#anyways if i play the trumpet consistently again i will get a new one so i just have to do that

[aroaceofthesea]

Im sorry but when i hear someone play the trumpet i remember why its the best instrument and its not bc i play it

[caffeineforbucky]

As Time Goes By...(Chapter One)

Post-blip (five or six months later)

A/N: This is my first time writing on this website or anything public really, I usually just write for me, please just bear with me if it looks or sounds janky. Also, thanks for taking the time to read. I deeply & wholeheartedly appreciate you. Enjoy!

Summary: I suck at them but, I'll give it a shot. You- the reader, are surprised by 'old' friends when they show up out of the blue, asking for your help on a mission. (This is just the sum for chap. 1)

Word count: 2,760

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Fem! reader

Warnings: Angst, swearing, ex-boyfriend jealousy...

The day was coming to an end, a small heatwave conjuring up a sweat as you wiped down your last table for the night. You blew out a breath, brushing back a sheen of perspiration with your forearm, watching the last customer walk out of the restaurant as the bell chimed above their head.

You never understood why people chose to sit inside when there were tables out on the sidewalk. It was hotter in here than out there, especially since the air conditioner had gone out just a few days prior and the fans above the tables were only circling the air inside. It was an actual oven, but they contended.

Your hightops heaved across the tile, dragging yourself with the sufficiency of a person who was only working because they had to. You kicked up the doorstop, pulling the door towards you with a small amount of goodwill and vigor to finish locking up, flipping the paper sign over from open to closed. It wasn't as if you hated your job. You thoroughly enjoyed the atmosphere of it all. It was the only person working the night shift job you hated with every fiber of your being. You weren't completely alone in the restaurant, having a few cooks and the owner to keep you company, especially on busy nights like the one you just had.

"I'm clocking out, Mrs. Turner!" You call out, reaching behind your back to untie the knot of your apron, pulling it up and off your neck once the ties came undone. Trudging back to the table, you picked up the disinfectant wipe and toss it in the bin, making your way to your boss's office before hanging up your apron on the hook. "Mrs. Turner...?" You murmur softly, poking your head in through the doorway, only to see her counting the profits for the day. "I'm heading home," You chime, pointing behind your shoulder with your thumb as she glances up at you.

"Alright, Honey," She beams, a bright smile pulling at her lips as her eyes meet yours. "I'll see you tomorrow then?"

Working for the Turners wasn't supposed to be a permanent job, in fact, it wasn't even your original plan, as opposed to the small favors you would complete now and then for the people that were willing to pay a pretty penny for your...services.

But you figured having a stable job was smarter and safer than the alternative. And the help wanted sign was very persuasive, due to the pretty colors and splashes of glitter. It looked like it was made by a child, which you later found out, was decorated by Mrs. Turner's seven-year-old. "Always." You accede, tapping the doorframe as your goodbye before parading into the breakroom to gather your things from the lockers.

You take your backpack off the hook and swing the strap over your shoulder before time punching your card and going straight through the back door. The sounds of the city hit your ears as the heavy door slammed behind you. Traffic honks and tires treading against the grain while you walk further into the busy streets of San Francisco.

As you were about to turn the corner, you were met with the sight of your friend's van, followed by a trumpet rendition of La Cucaracha. You grinned widely, gripping your strap tighter as you jog up the 1972 Ford Ecoline, aka Big Bertha. At least that's what you called it. "Luis!" You rejoice, resting your palms on the ledge. "What are you doing here?"

"Scotty sent me out for a few things," Luis answers, his hands gripping the steering wheel, his head turned to you. "I was just about to go when I saw you. Thought you might need a ride." He shrugs, a cute smile playing on his lips.

You nod, reciprocating the smile at his answer. "Yeah, if it's not too much trouble..." You drag, your voice hesitant, as if he didn't offer at all.

"Nah, get in." He gestures, beckoning you with a wave of his hand. "Your place is on the way," Luis loosens his seatbelt, reaching over to the passenger side to pull up the lock, opening the door for you.

You climb in, plopping down on the tufted leather seats as you pulled the door towards you, closing it shut. "Thanks, Lu," You breathe, dropping your backpack below your feet, then you fasten your seatbelt. "How is Scott, anyway?" You ask as Luis changes gears and presses the gas, the van rolls onto the street.

"Ehh...he's...he's alright, know what I'm sayin'?" He answers, glancing at you before focusing back on the road. "I mean, he missed like five years of his daughter's life. He's just trying to spend as much time with her to make up for years they both lost."

You nibble at the inside of your cheek, nodding softly in agreement as the city lights passed you by. There wasn't much you could say to that, having lost so many people yourself. People you considered family just...gone.

"Yo!" Luis pipes up, snapping you out of your train of thought. "Didja see the news today?!" He shakes his head, whistling at the thought. "I can't believe they would just give some random dude the shield like that, ya know?"

You drew in your bottom lip in contempt, nodding once again at Luis. You had seen the news, and they couldn't have picked a better time to broadcast. If it hadn't been for Mrs. Turner asking you in, you would've hunted Sam Wilson down and kicked his ass yourself.

The van rolled to a stop, brakes squealing as Luis pulled up beside your apartment. You sighed heavily, glancing at the small apartment you shared with your Ex-boyfriend. By the looks of the living room light illuminating behind the curtains, he was home, and you absolutely dreaded when he was. It wasn't as if you wanted to live with him, but you had no other alternative. Ever since dropping your side job, money was tighter, and he was kind enough to let you stay, just until you found a place. "Thanks again for the ride, Lu." You mumble, unclicking your seatbelt as you took hold of your backpack. "You didn't have to."

"Don't even mention it, Y/N," Luis reassures, watching you as you pull at the door handle, opening it to get out. "I know how hard it is to get back into the norm."

You shut the passenger door, shooting him a sympathetic smile. "I'll see you around?"

With a smile, Luis waves goodbye and drives off into the night, the exhaust pipe blowing smoke as he rode off. You shook your head, cracking a smile at the honk of his horn. You turned towards the front entrance of the apartment, your stomach twisting as your smile dropped completely. You swallowed thickly, rolling the tension from your shoulders to prepare yourself before jogging up the small flight of stairs.

You fished your keys from the front pocket of your backpack, taking a breath before shoving the key into the lock, twisting as you pushed the door open with your shoulder. "Joshua?!" You voiced, calling out your ex's name to make sure it was him. You dropped your belongings beside the door, pushing your sneakers off before kicking the door shut with your foot.

"Yeah, in here!" He responds quickly, a slight tremor to his tone.

You frown softly, tossing your keys into the bowl on the console table before sauntering to where his voice was emanating from. "Josh, are you...?" Your voice came to a halt, your footsteps stopping altogether as you walked into the living room.

"Hey!" Joshua exclaims once your figure comes into view. "You wanna explain who they are?" He presses, his face crossed with fear as he gestures to the two men sitting calmly on your living room couch.

You remained quiet, your body tense, eyes wide as your focus shifted between the men on the couch and your ex.

"Well...?" Joshua demands, crossing his arms over his chest, shifting in his stance at the unsettling glare one of the men was sending his way. "I was in the middle of hosting game night-as you can see, when they showed up," Josh drops his arms, hands splaying out to gesture to the coffee table consisting of five different dips, two bulk-sized bags of tortilla chips, and a twenty-four pack of Blue Moon beer. "The guys were just about to come over."

You take a deep breath, closing your eyes to refrain from any and all insults towards your ex. That explained why he was home. "Um..." You utter, pinching the bridge of your nose, "Fucking hell," You curse under your breath, eyes fluttering open to look at Joshua. "Josh," You begin, clearing your throat as you start with the man on the left. "They are Sam Wilson and..." You hesitate, eyes settling on the man to the right, his sight alone bringing back the memories that you swore you didn't want to remember. "James Barnes," You finish, ripping your eyes away from his baby blues to look at your ex. "Aka-"

"The Falcon and The Winter Soldier..." Joshua finishes for you, his eyes flashing with amazement, head whipping towards the guys. "Shit!" He curses, smiling widely like a kid in a candy store. "Can I get you guys anything? A plate? Beer?"

"Actually," You grunt, interrupting before Sam or Bucky could answer. "Can you give us a minute, Joshua?" Insisting while your foot tapped impatiently against the hardwood floor.

"Should I be worried?" He inquires, eyes filled with confusion as he looked between the three of you, trying to piece together the situation at hand. The main reason you and Joshua couldn't work it out was that you kept a lot of secrets, mostly from him. He didn't like the fact that you wouldn't let him in. Sure, you lied to him, the biggest lie being that you were an Avenger, but that was just to keep him safe. There were other reasons why you decided to split up as well. Joshua knew...he knew deep down you were just with him to pass the time. He could see it when he looked into your eyes. There was someone else in the reflection and it wasn't him. If he was honest with himself, he could admit that it did hurt him. That he wanted a chance to make it work with you, but with the way you were staring at James, he finally recognized that reflection.

He should've noticed it early on-like that day he had somehow convinced you to take a trip to D.C for a tour of the Captain America museum. You were hell-bent on not going, trying to make up some elaborate excuse or an alibi of sorts, but alas, you still went. And for some odd reason, you couldn't stop coming back to the Bucky Barnes portion.

"No," You reply, keeping it short to dismiss him.

Joshua's mouth set in a hard line, a foreign feeling forming in the pit of his stomach-jealousy. He never had to worry about it before, especially when his friends used to come over, back when you were still together. Except for that one time, but how could he blame them? You were the kind of person that listened, laughed at the jokes being made, could lend a hand when needed, and your looks were just a bonus in his book. "Uhm, yeah," He coughed, frowning softly while nodding his head at you. "I have to go pick up the pizza, anyway," Josh brushes past you, fetching his keys from the bowl while slipping on his Vans that sat up against the wall ledge that separated the front door from the living room. "Are you going to be okay?" He mumbles, glancing over his shoulder to look at you.

You shoot Josh a smile, nodding reassuringly, his footsteps approaching closer before stopping in front of you, the palm of his hand landing gently on your shoulder, giving it a light squeeze. "Let me know if you need anything, m'kay?" Josh's voice is soft, the concern in his eyes making you feel guilty. You knew he cared about you, and there wasn't a time where you'd catch him staring at you for far too long, but you were well past that. "I'm just a text away," He notes, waving his cell in his hand.

"Josh, I'll be fine," You sigh, stepping away from his touch, the sound of his hand hitting his jeans as it dropped from your shoulder. "I always am."

"Right," Josh nods, looking over at the men on the couch before gazing back at you. "I'll see you in a bit, bug." And with that, he turns, opens the front door, and steps out, shutting the wooden door behind him.

You close your eyes, the pet name Josh had coined for you making you sigh. He agreed to stop calling you that all together and it only made you feel that more guilty for ending things. "So..." You pipe up, opening your eyes as you turned to look at the guys. "To what do I owe this pleasure?"

"Bug?"

Bucky is the first to speak, his jaw clenched at the mere sound of the word. Indignant at the way Josh had touched you, even if it was just your shoulder. "I didn't know he knew you like that," Bucky flashes you a taut smile, nodding softly as he shared a look with Sam, but the falcon only shook his head. "How long have you been..." Bucky couldn't even finish the question, his glove-clad hands tightening at the thought of you being with somebody else...someone that wasn't him. Though, it was his own fault. If he hadn't done what he'd done-you'd have never found another.

"Wow," You scoff, padding closer to where they sat. "You don't miss a beat, do you? Just..." You sink into the sofa adjacent to the one they occupied. "-Right into the big stuff."

"I didn't bring you here to question her about her love life," Sam voices, his scolding eyes on the man beside him. "And she sure as hell isn't obligated to answer you, Bucky."

You smile gratefully at Sam before glancing down at your leg that had begun to bounce in anticipation. "What are you guys doing here? And how'd you find me?" You ask, tilting your head in curiosity as you look up at the guys. "When I resigned from the Avengers initiative, they ensured me that I wasn't able to be traced, not by your or any other remaining member. I was supposed to be scot-free," You declare, hitting your thigh with your fist.

"Oh, come on, Y/N," Sam chuckles, shaking his head at the naivety. "We both know that's a bunch of bullshit. The government is always going to have its eyes on us. Especially free agents like you and us."

You draw in your bottom lip, biting down, eyes flickering between Sam and Bucky. You knew it was too good to be true, and part of you sensed the bullshit when the government explained it to you. You just didn't want to believe it.

"You were an ex-assassin. How could they not keep tabs on your whereabouts?" Sam recounts, emphasizing that it was in the past. At least, that's what they thought. "And I had some help from Redwing as well." He shrugs nonchalantly.

You choke out a laugh, shaking your head at the smug demeanor emitting from Sam. "Redwing," You whisper, smiling thinly. "Of course, nothing could ever be hidden from your personal P.I, huh?"

"I hate that thing," Bucky grumbles, folding his arms across his chest. in annoyance. "Invasion of privacy, I'm telling you."

"You love redwing," Sam jokes, playfully jabbing Bucky's arm with his elbow, "It's okay Bucky, you can admit it."

"Can we get back to the issue here?" You interject, "Not one of you has explained the reason you're here. I mean, don't get me wrong, it's great to see you...one more than the other," You whisper that last part but, completely aware that Bucky could hear it. "But, you both showing up out of the blue...? That's almost a bad omen."

"I didn't ask him here, by the way," Sam acknowledges, raising his hands in defense, "I just want to get that out of the way. Bucky came because he wanted to. I'm here," Sam gestures to himself, "-For one reason and one reason only..."

"And what's that?" You ask, leaning forward in your seated position.

"I need your help, Y/N."

[angelsandarsenic]

DSMP as Marching Band

drum major: Philza

-will make you do push ups

-everyone loves him

-will steal an entire box of donuts and no one stops him (to clarify, I don't mean steal steal, I mean when someone brings donuts to band)

-main clique

-the director’s favorite

-everyone’s favorite

-steals the snacks in the drum closet

last bass drum-technoblade

-biggest and loudest bass for the most reliable one with the best time keeping

-would be drum captain if he wanted to

-practically drum captain anyway

-makes fun of every other instrument and band with Wil (but it’s accurate tho)

-freshman/new kids go to him for help once they’re no longer intimidated. He acts like it’s a hassle but he loves it

-keeps the drum closet stocked with snacks

-contributes a surprising amount to coming up with vocals and goofy drumline stuff

trumpet section leader-wilbur

-tries to knock everyone’s hats off at shows

-makes fun of other trumpets (mainly tommy)

-actually really knows what he’s doing but doesn’t act like it

-brings a speaker just to blast meme music

-playing during downtime. Sometimes it's cool, sometimes it's annoying on purpose

-sometimes hangs out with main clique

other trumpets-tommy and tubbo

-the band either hates or loves them no in between

-have to do the most push ups

-goofs off but practices at home and likes being in band

-tries to sword fight each other with their hat plumes

flute section leader-puffy

-brings snacks and hand warmers for everyone

-holds everyone to a high standard

-used to play trombone and still does but prefers flute for marching

-could be main clique but doesn’t want to

-seems mean but just a stickler for details

other flutes-nikki and bbh

-niki takes aesthetic photos at competitions

-came up with the section chant

-somehow makes the uniform look good

-Nikki knows all the sets and what measures correspond

-help the freshman of every section/freshman favorites

-bad can play the highest

-bad adopts freshman

second drum major-ranboo

-in training and Phil is happy to help ofc

-has a tendency to over exaggerate conducting and his time gets wonky occasionally (but he'll be really good eventually)

-is the same height as Phil even from the smaller platform

-tries to steal an entire box of donuts but tubbo takes half of them

-plays bass clarinet

clarinet section leader-george

-main clique

-The One Dating a Drumline Member

-naturally has good time keeping

-gets picky about people’s marking time and dress and cover

-messes around with color guard or drumline on breaks

-complains the most about waking up early

-loses his reeds

tenor-dream

-didn't get drum captain the first time he tried but got it the second time

-main clique

-50% of his existence is rim shots

-gets upset when people don’t fix things after doing the mistake over and over again

-does the drumline vocals where no one knows what he’s saying

-stick tricks. so many stick tricks

-one of the kids with nothing else going on but band but he's cool

color gaurd captain -Eret

-makes sure they have good uniforms and not the awful body suits

-best at 45 tosses and sabers

-the choreographer is questionable but she talks them down from some of the worst decisions, thankfully

-he’s the best at the dance aspects especially

-"if you hit/kill a band kid it doesn't matter we don't need them anyway"

-was a flute in elementary school for a while

-“you’re just jealous because we’re prettier than you”

-winter guard captain too of course

-their team has the coolest winter guard shows and it's all because of her

Saxophones-Quackity and Sam

-Quackity is a little sour that he isn’t section leader

-Sam would be leader but he doesn’t play loud enough. or speak loud enough

-Quackity gets the solos because he plays the loudest and is pretty good

-he also teaches himself meme music

-Quackity used to play trumpet

-the freshman go to Sam for help most often

-Sam is the most consistent of the whole band and has great tempo

-quackity is sort of part of the main clique??

-dynamics?? Haha no

-Quackity gets really quiet and anxious about how he’s playing easily if he messes up, even if he knows the part well and it was just an accident

Other clarinets-Sapnap and skeppy

-skeppy always hangs out with badboyhalo and the flutes

-help each other memorize music

-sapnap set 4 reeds on fire once because he wasn’t satisfied with any of them

-either falls asleep at 9 or stays up all night on trips

-gets mcdonalds after competitions

-skeppy always suggests things for the chant but it’s rarely added

-sapnap actually practices just the right amount

-he’s pretty good naturally too

[stillness-in-green]

I saw speculation on this going around & I’m curious to get your thoughts on it: where do you think Geten’s story might be going in the future, & do u think it’s possible Dabi will kill him? I saw ppl talking about Dabi’s noted distaste for him & how the PLF seems more of a temporary alliance in the LoV’s mind (Compress’ noted rejection of the name in his thoughts, Dabi’s use of Skeptic against his will, etc), & w/ AFO back in the picture they theorized Dabi may get his quirk & kill Geten.

Okay, so, it took me a while to grapple with this one, and in the end, I'm going to have to break my reply up into two parts. Because you asked a very simple question, anon, and my answer to the question you actually asked is pretty simple (if characteristically rambly)! But you also provided a bunch of contextualizing information about what prompted your ask, and I have a lot to say about that contextualizing information, stuff that is only tangentially related to your actual question.

Note that some of this is going to get pretty salty, but I assume you wouldn't have brought a Known MLA Stan a question like this if you didn't want at least a bit of that. Most of the salt will be in the second part, though! This first part is pretty safe!

So, to answer the actual question: I don't have a lot of solid thoughts on where Geten's story is going, because from the looks of the way the series as a whole is going, it may well be that the MLA’s story is already done. I have previously expressed concerns about the current status of the MLA mainly because of all the speculation that Horikoshi is trying to rush to get to the ending, and if Hori’s rushing the ending, I don’t know that I’d bet on Geten coming back at all. In fact, given what I can guess about the scenario, I’d kind of rather he not.

The thing is, the MLA have always been far more relevant to the League than they have been to anyone else in the cast. They’re Tomura's victory spoils; their plot beats were established to connect to the League, not the heroes, the students, or even All For One. There’s just no personal connection there, and lacking a personal connection, all they’d do is be fodder for background fights to fill page space and give the side characters something to do.

And there’s just no drama in that! Not even any tension! We've already seen the MLA characters beaten--first by the villains, and then by the heroes. Hell, we've seen Re-Destro beaten three times!(1) Based on how the raid went, there are maybe three people in the entire MLA that present a credible threat--Hose Face, whose name we don’t even know, Re-Destro, who has a repeatedly-illustrated weak point in the form of his new legs, and Geten.

While I definitely think Geten could give any of the students save Deku a run for their money,(2) what would be the point? Who would he be slotted in to have a dramatic fight with? Geten hurt Cementoss, but he didn't kill him, and none of the students are uniquely close to Cementoss anyway. Geten has never personally offended or harmed any of the kids directly. There was a time people theorized that Shouto's end game boss would be a combination of Geten and Dabi, but with the PLF scattered, that looks less likely.

From the other side of things, Geten himself has no particular beef with the kids. If he'd been on the front lines to witness the opening moments of the battle, maybe he'd have a bone to pick with Kaminari, Kinoko, Juzo, and particularly Tokoyami, but it took Geten a bit to get to the front; he has no particular way of knowing about those four, and at the moment, he certainly has more pressing matters on his mind.

Geten's primary interest, when it comes right down to it, is Re-Destro. He talks a big game about the MLA's goals, but when the pivotal moment comes in Deika, he bails on the battle that was assigned to him to try and help RD instead. He claims that pure strength is to be valued above all else, but his loyalties don’t change when Gigantomachia bats him aside like a fly or when Shigaraki proves himself to be An Strongest. Even up to Jakku, Geten is still concerned solely with Re-Destro. With no real reason to pit RD against the kids, there’s no reason to throw Geten against them, either.

The only person Geten has an established rivalry with is, of course, Dabi, but getting the two of them even in the same vicinity again is going to require breaking the MLA leaders out of jail, which clearly isn't a priority of AFO's, and he's the one running the show right now. Would Shigaraki bother? He might, particularly if RD, Trumpet and Geten all get shipped to whatever Tartarus Lite Mr. Compress and Machia are likewise bound for. But if the story is headed to its conclusion, is Shigaraki ever going to get that option?

Is AFO the final boss? If so, it doesn't seem to leave much of an opening for the MLA to become relevant again, because, again, the MLA are all about Tomura's victory, Tomura’s ascendant arc as a villain, his status as a hero to other villains (namely RD). If Deku "saving" Shigaraki from All For One is going to magically resolve all of Tomura's issues with society as a whole, because hey, at least this kid is a good person, so his society can't be so bad after all! (GAG), that doesn't seem to leave much room to get into the myriad issues with society that all of Tomura's followers have. Frankly, the only thing the MLA has to offer Deku right now that's remotely relevant to his current goals is Re-Destro's starry-eyed explanation about why he's fallen so hard for Shigaraki, and Spinner is better suited for that role on basically every level.

So that’s all been one big if. The other alternative is the ending I'm hoping we get, in which Deku and Shigaraki join forces to put an end to AFO, only for Shigaraki to thank Deku cordially and then get right back to destroying things because, surprise surprise, Midoriya Izuku being a good person doesn't absolve Hero Society of all of its many, many sins. Then I can see there being room for the MLA to return. At that point, not only is there RD’s devotion to Shigaraki on offer, but also the MLA’s ideology of Liberation, what it is, what it offers, along with, for example, more on whatever Harima Oji’s complaints were about heroes, more on what has to change systemically to satisfy Shigaraki’s grudge. That’s a story the MLA can meaningfully contribute to, and therefore a story in which Geten and his quirk supremacist beliefs are more likely to be addressed.

However, I’m not optimistic that we’re going to get that ending, and until we find out whether Shigaraki will be satisfied with being rescued from AFO (if, indeed, he survives the process at all), or whether he and his compatriots’ societal issues will be left by the wayside, I’m not yet prepared to spend a lot of time theorizing on how the MLA’s role in it would look.

As to the specific question of Dabi killing Geten--honestly? I think that moment is past. While I said earlier that Dabi is Geten’s only established rivalry, that is frankly being more generous than their relationship actually warrants. After all, we haven’t seen them interact since Deika, and literally the only time one of them has so much as thought of the other in that period was Dabi grumbling, “That icy punk sure knows how to let loose,” after Geten’s big wall of ice attack allows Tokoyami to get away with Hawks. If their continued animosity were going to be a plot point, and especially if Dabi were going to murder him in cold blood eventually, Horikoshi should have shown us the two of them antagonizing each other as co-lieutenants of the Violet Regiment.

At this point, Dabi has made his big play, revealed his identity to the world. I think he's pretty locked into the Todoroki Drama now; he has bigger concerns than going back and winning a grudge match against Geten. Also too, given the point he's trying to prove about the strength of his/Endeavor's flames, would he even want Geten's quirk? If he were to get it, would he get the "evolved" version or just the basic one?(3) Because given the precedent set by both the mechanics of Monoma's Copy and AFO's comments about Jeanist's Fiber Master, I'd be inclined to think the latter, and Geten's ice powers are way less badass without the temperature control, especially for a dude trying to wield them in concert with flames of the temperature Dabi uses.

From a narrative standpoint, Geten has already been punished for his hubris with a personal defeat, the humbling of his leader, a loss of pride in his organization, and then a second, much more damning defeat and subsequent capture at the hands of heroes. Dabi taking his quirk and killing him at this point would just be kicking--indeed, killing--him when he’s already down. It doesn’t feel like karma; it just feels malicious.

That said, in the rather dubiously scaffolded scenario that the MLA gets free and finds their way back to the League and AFO/Shigaraki takes Geten's quirk(4) and Dabi accepts it, would Dabi then kill Geten with it?

…I mean, maybe? Do people think that Dabi is that much of a sadist? Because it would be the act of a sadist, to murder a kid who's almost certainly younger than he is and might even still be a teenager, one who has just been violently stripped of any ability to defend himself, all out of a desire for petty revenge over a months-old slight--a slight consisting of Geten parroting rhetoric he learned from the weird cult he grew up in, and which Dabi has very possibly been working with Skeptic long enough to know is maybe not all that accurate a characterization of the cult's ideals anyway!

And that brings me to Part 2. ---------------------------------------

(1) Four, if you count the clone’s destruction.

(2) Even 1-A's two remaining powerhouses don't present any more of a threat to Geten's ice than Dabi did, and Shouto will only give him more of it to work with. Their advantage over Dabi is that they can both sort of fly, which might well tip the balance--one of Geten's major advantages is his ability to manipulate ice from a considerable distance away, farther away than Dabi's flames can reach, but flying opponents deprive him of that advantage. Now, Shouto's flying is fairly unstable, so I suspect Geten is more maneuverable in the air, but his maneuverability wouldn't save him from Bakugou, the human equivalent of the anger-powered jetpack.

(3) Set aside the Doylist explanations about anyone who stole Geten's quirk getting the version the audience already knows purely out of laziness, forgetfulness, or authorial fiat.

(4) And look me dead in the eye and tell me Geten would just let Shigaraki Tomura or anything currently inhabiting his body just casually stroll up and lay hands on him without protest. Not to say I think AFOmura couldn't do it, but doing it in a "cool," dramatic way would probably involve some lightning movements we have not seen him make thus far.

[kitauji-king]

‘Liz and the Blue Bird’ Recap Part 3

Our favorite trumpet and euphonium duo are getting ready to practice.

The cracks in Nozomi’s facade are beginning to show.

Nozomi still attempts to preserve the illusion nevertheless.

Speaking of being perfectly in-sync with each other, say hello to the poster children for a perfectly healthy relationship. To me, KumiRei has to be one of the best pairings based on how well they get each other and how they consistently support each other throughout all of their endeavors. They both see the other’s flaws but they still remain devoted to each other regardless. This is represented by them playing Mizore and Nozomi’s duet perfectly in time and in tune with each other.

Mizore overhears the duo practicing too and stops to take a look. She doesn’t stick around for too long though.

We love to see it.

It was a confession of love, after all.

That’s true, if Kumiko and Reina were in the position of Liz and the bluebird, their parting would take on a different meaning. As I said only a moment ago, Kumiko and Reina are always in support of each other. If one of them felt as though the other one was being held back from achieving their full potential and becoming special, they wouldn’t hesitate for a second in letting the other one go. They’d have no doubt that letting the other go would be the correct choice.

Nozomi second guesses herself.

Mizore has read the story through multiple times, but she still can’t seem to get into Liz’s head.

Another area where Mizore and I are quite similar. Just like her, I find myself getting extremely attached to certain people I care deeply about and I even go as far as creating this idealized version of them in my head. The idea of letting that person go is almost unspeakable.

Yuuko is extremely passionate about this because after Nozomi quit, she was the only one Mizore had left. She saw firsthand how strongly this abandonment affected her, even to the point of her getting physically sick. So, it makes sense that she’s frustrated at Nozomi for doing the same thing all over again.

Well, sometimes, but communication is also important too. When was Mizore supposed to find out, then?

Niiyama makes a very astute assumption about Mizore and her sentimentality, to which Mizore can’t deny. Then, she gives Mizore a different perspective to think about.

Back in the fairy tale world, Liz finally breaks the news to the blue girl. She takes it pretty well.

Seemingly out of nowhere, the rug was pulled out from underneath the blue girl. She had been living with Liz and the two of them had been pretty much attached at the hip for a while now. They had come to love each other deeply, but now Liz is telling her she has to leave. 

Liz has come to terms with the fact that the blue girl cannot truly be free or happy if she chooses to stay with her.

This particular shot with the way Liz looks at the blue girl and the way she speaks this line really melts my heart. All of her love is being reflected in her eyes. I think what makes this even more emotional is the addition of Liz pulling back for a  moment to recompose herself before she speaks. It’s a painful decision to make, but she has to peel off the band-aid. The blue girl is reluctant to leave, but she does so anyway out of respect for Liz’s decision.

Also, I’m going to use this shot to reaffirm my statement that this is a queer movie. Liz’s one line in this shot hints at the nature of her relationship with the blue girl. It’s not platonic. In Japan, there are quite a few ways to say “I love you,” all of them having their own nuances and context. Liz uses “aishiteru,” which is normally used only in romantic situations; for instance what two spouses or two lifelong partners would say to each other. “Aishiteru” marks a very deep, committed, romantic relationship. It has such great meaning that the word isn’t even that commonly used in normal settings. Yes, it’s a bit bold of me to label their relationship as romantic, but I still find it a little ridiculous to assume that the two of them are just friends and nothing more. I would even say that it was willful ignorance. Clearly, whatever this relationship is, it transcends friendship.

But also, it is just a fairy tale.

Suddenly it starts making sense.

All this time, Mizore had been restraining her playing so that she wouldn’t leave Nozomi behind. The whole reason she plays the oboe in the first place is because of Nozomi. Now she realizes that because she loves her, she has to convey her love and all her emotions through her playing to give it back to her. Music is the best way for someone like Mizore to express themselves after all.

Here Nozomi finally comes clean and comes to terms with her own jealousy. She admits that it hurt to see Mizore getting all this attention when Nozomi is also passionate about music. She has to learn to accept that Niiyama just happened to see a greater potential in Mizore that Nozomi just didn’t seem to have. She has to accept that Mizore is going places where she cannot follow.

Originally, they thought of Mizore as Liz, and Nozomi as the bluebird. Nozomi was a strange miracle that came into Mizore’s life when she least expected it. And then, just like the Avatar, when Mizore needed her most, she vanished.

The roles have been reversed.

The bluebird has gone away to be free with others of her kind, and Liz is left to watch as the bluebird soars higher and higher and farther and farther away.

A stray bluebird feather descends from the sky. Liz grabs it and holds it closely, accepting is as something to remember her companion by. Ultimately, she made the correct decision in letting the bluebird go free, but god it still hurts. Now Nozomi knows she must do the same as well.

This last shot is so stunningly gorgeous from color to composition. I like that the film lingers here for a good few seconds.

Act 3 begins at the start of another rehearsal. In a seemingly uncharacteristically bold move by Mizore, she asks if they can go all the way through the Third Movement in Liz.

Niiyama approves.

As they begin playing the duet, Nozomi immediately notices that something is different.

Mizore is playing her part now with a new vigor and liveliness. All of her inhibitions have been thrown out the window and she doesn’t restrain herself to allow Nozomi to keep up. She’s soaring like the bluebird.

This specific portion of the song gives me chills and goosebumps every single time. The music is at a low rumble, Mizore leads as the piece is building up and building up until the cymbals crash and a trumpet fanfare begins, marking the climax of the movement.

Nozomi is so overcome with her emotions she can hardly play. She can’t focus enough to even move her fingers and fake it. The camera going in and out of focus really enhances this.

Nozomi finally drops out, laying the flute down in her lap in defeat. She just can’t keep up anymore.

She firmly grips the instrument in her lap as the tears begin to fall. It’s no use, and she knows it. Mizore has flown too high and far away for Nozomi to even reach her anymore.

Mizore concludes the solo on a literal high note.

The film goes silent. Everyone in the room is left utterly speechless or in tears because of Mizore’s solo. I had the same reaction. Not Niiyama-sensei though. She knew all along that Mizore could play like this; she’s merely proud.

If even Reina offers her kudos to your playing, that’s how you know you’re an amazing musician.

Even with all this praise, there’s still one thing on Mizore’s mind.

Mizore finds Nozomi sulking alone in what was previously her own hiding spot: the blowfish tank in the science lab. 

Mizore’s in a difficult position. She doesn’t have that same type A personality that someone like Reina has. Mizore is happy to play as long as she gets to do it with Nozomi, the competition aspect isn’t that important to her. So I can see why she would hold herself back for Nozomi’s sake.

Nozomi’s in a tough position as well. She’s extremely passionate about music and she is a skilled flautist; she was the president of Minami Middle School’s band, the principal flautist to boot, and she only quit Kitauji’s band because she couldn’t stand being around the upperclassmen who didn’t take it seriously. We know this. So it really sucks for her to realize that she’s coming up short in her playing. Now this girl, whom she introduced to concert band in the first place, is turning out to be more skilled than she is and is even getting more attention for it. I don’t care who you are, that’s gotta hurt, petty or not.

This is reflecting the part in the short story where Liz claims to be just “a cage that confines you” and tells the bluebird that with her flight she can go anywhere she chooses.

Mizore is done being talked over and is ready to finally speak her mind.

Nozomi severely underestimates how much of an effect her disappearance had on her friend. It’s even affected how Mizore saw her other friendships (though she didn’t have very many to begin with). For the entire year that Nozomi was gone and Yuuko stuck by her side, Mizore was so sure that she was only doing that out of pity. She didn’t see herself as being worthy enough to be considered someone else’s friend. And now that Nozomi’s back, Mizore felt she had to live with the fear that it could happen again.

Mizore’s main fear is that she’s just another one of Nozomi’s many friends, and that if she ever stopped doing it, there would be no reason for Nozomi to continue to be her friend. Whether or not she actually liked band was irrelevant in that equation. And as we learned in season 2, when asked why she never quit the band even after Nozomi did, she explained that the oboe was the only thing keeping her connected to Nozomi.

Mizore’s as serious as a heart attack when it comes to how much she loves Nozomi.

Nozomi is referring to the part of herself that she doesn’t let anyone else see. The part of her that is petty, jealous, and selfish. She doesn’t feel she lives up to the perfect, kind hearted, divine being that her peers have made her out to be.

It is physically impossible for Mizore to even entertain the idea of hating Nozomi. She loves her, flaws and all.

Cutting Nozomi off from downplaying her confession, Mizore raises her hands in another I Love You Hug attempt. Nozomi is rendered speechless.

Mirroring the last I Love You Hug attempt, the two are froze in time and we, the audience, are left wondering “will they, or won’t they?” Boldly, Mizore is the first one to move; she wraps her arms around Nozomi and clutches onto her. Very hesitant and calculated, Nozomi slowly places her hands on Mizore’s waist.

For some reason, I don’t believe that, Nozomi.

In true I Love You Hug fashion, Mizore gushes about all of the good things Nozomi has brought into her life just by saying hi to her that one day.

Just typical things straight people platonically say about their friends.

This line can be interpreted many ways as I’ve seen when I look at other people’s analysis on this film. Some people say that this is Nozomi rejecting Mizore’s love confession seeing as she doesn’t compliment her on who she is, only what she does (her being a hard worker, and being skilled at the oboe). But I don’t agree with that interpretation. The point of this scene is for Nozomi to let go of the bluebird, just like Liz. I think that’s why she puts herself down, saying things like Mizore had to hold herself back for her sake, that she is very talented and has the whole world ahead of her. She does that so that Mizore will see how great her potential is and choose to live her own life and be free. I believe that if she had returned Mizore’s confession at this very second, that would defeat the entire purpose of her trying to release the bluebird.

Nozomi suddenly bursts out laughing. Maybe at the realization that all they needed to do was communicate with each other? I still stand by my opinion that giving each other cute nicknames would’ve resolved all of this a lot sooner.

See, I think you remember it perfectly, Nozomi.

We get this silent shot of two birds flying side by side in sync with each other.

I hope the school is paying this girl.

Mizore is trying to renew Liz again after who knows how long it’s been, and the librarian’s still trying to nag her. Luckily, Nozomi is there to save the day. However, she’s also there on a mission: she’s here to study for college exams. 

This scene is meant to mirror the one at the beginning of the film with both of the girls walking to the band room and with Nozomi leading. In this scene, now the girls are independently following their own paths for the future. Mizore is practicing her oboe to get ready for music school, and Nozomi is studying up for a regular college.

Nozomi left a little doodle for Mizore on her sheet music as a reminder.

Looking through the windows of both domains, we see the same lone bluebird fly across the sky, showing us that both girls have learned to let go.

Some time later, Mizore is leaving the school building and up ahead is Nozomi’s smiling face waiting for her. She hurriedly runs up to catch up to her. Overtop of this is a voice over of Nozomi and Mizore deciding what they should eat on the way home. What’s significant about this scene is that now girls are being depicted as equals; gone are the days of them walking with Mizore trailing behind from a distance. Now they are walking side by side and both of their opinions for what they wanna do are being taken into consideration. It’s not just Nozomi calling the shots anymore.

Some things never change.

This line has kind of a double meaning. Yes, she really is going to practice and learn to play her solo with as much fervor as Mizore, but she also wants to use this time to work on herself as a person. She needs to get over her jealousy and learn to support her friend. And then maybe someday she’ll be able to return Mizore’s confession. She just needs a little time first.

Mizore agrees to keep practicing too, for a different reason though. She’ll keep following her own path.

Further demonstrating that they’ve never been more on the same page with each other than they are right now, Mizore and Nozomi hivemind for a second. Mizore recalls the conversation with Hazuki and Midori she eavesdropped on and uses the ‘Happy Ice Cream’ trick. I don’t think Nozomi realizes she’s going to be the one who has to pay for those ice creams, but you guys can cross that bridge when you come to it.

My god, what do you think she said!?

Wow, what a ride.

If you’ve actually managed to make it to the bottom of this review, I just wanna say welcome, and also thank you for taking the time to read this!

Like I said back in the intro ages ago, this immediately became my favorite film upon watching it. This is becoming one of those films that I can look back on every now again and still love it just as much if not more. KyoAni never fails to disappoint. Shoutout to Naoko Yamada, the amazing director. Would definitely recommend this film to anyone who has eyes and ears.

I’m really glad this film gave us all a chance to get a deeper look at Mizore and Nozomi’s relationship. After their 4-episode arc in season 2 of Hibike is concluded, we don’t hear much about them. This was a lovely aftermath to see how they’ve both changed and grown since their falling out and reuniting.

Now I wanna open this up for further discussion on the film. What are your thoughts and interpretations? Do you agree or disagree with me at any points? What did Nozomi say at the end!?! Leave a reply or send me and ask and I’ll try to respond to as many as I can.

Part 1

Part 2

[riverboundao3ff]

Riverbound Chapter 8

As it turned out, you would not be dashing off on a dangerous quest as the valiant hero determined to save Alternia. Not yet, anyways.

However, you would be helping to prepare for Tyzias’s mission that is planned for tomorrow, which has your blood pumping as the teal whips out a map of Thrashthrust, with one smaller area circled in red marker, and slaps it down in the middle of the carpet you’re all gathered around.

“This is Her Imperial Condescension’s Drone Factory of the General Thrashthrust Area,” Tyzias begins. “In about thirty hours, all drones in the city will report back to the factory in four waves for about one hour each to upload new information to the government’s databases. Information like this includes individuals who are at risk of being culled, cellular data that’s been used to track people as they go about their night, and most importantly, if there’s any signs of rebellion. The drones will also be undergoing their regular maintenance checks.”

Daraya reaches over and taps a claw to the area circled in red. “While there are a few trolls there to make sure everything’s running smoothly, the uploading of data and maintenance checks are done by computers. What we want is to get into those computers and wipe out the data. Bonus points if we can wreck the computers, too.”

“That kind of technology won’t just be out in the open for anybody to get into, much less the information needed to actually access the good stuff,” Mallek says, tapping the pad of his pointer finger to his other fist. He’s tense, and for a good reason.

“We won’t be doing any hacking this time. Maybe if we had more time in between waves, but…” Stelsa shakes her head. “No, we’re going to have to take a more… crude approach.”

Tagora smiles and drums his claws against his knees. “The factory’s heavily protected against things like solar flares, but only from the outside. If something like, say, a massive electromagnetic pulse were to go off inside…”

Mallek raises a brow. “You have electro-bombs?”

“For legal reasons, no. For other reasons… just don’t ask me anything about any bombs, please.”

You grin at Tagora. “Hell yes, Gor-Gor.”

“Hell no, Gor-Gor,” Tirona begs, tugging on his sleeve.

“Try and stop me, you little gremlin.”

Tirona groans dramatically and flops back on the loungeplank with her hands over her face.

You’re absolutely amazed at how much your friends have changed since you disappeared. Who could have thought that Tagora Gorjek, of all people, would join up with a whole-ass rebellion? Or Stelsa, for that matter? Even Tirona seems resigned to the fact that she’s going to end up involved whether she likes it or not.

“So how are we getting the bombs in there?” Wanshi chirps.

“Orginally, I had a plan that consisted of people sneaking in and out of the buildings between waves. Different drones go to different buildings for their business. Now, we have a much easier and quicker way of doing the whole thing.” Tyzias nods to you.

“We understand if you still need more time to recover, though,” Daraya adds quickly.

You meet her gaze without hesitation. “I’m ready.”

This is why I’m here, kiddo. For your future, for all of our futures, for this planet. I just wish I could tell you that.

“... Wait. Before we go any further, there’s something you said earlier that everybody seems to be overlooking. Something very important.”

You turn to Lanque and are surprised by how intensely he’s looking at you. Dark green eyes glint sharply through his bangs.

“What’s up?” you offer.

“When you explained to us what happened to you, you said that you had come back to Alternia, but… in the future. If you went to the future, then you must know how this all turns out,” Lanque states matter-of-factly.

Your heart sinks.

“Believe me, you’re not the only one who’s been thinking about that,” Tyzias growls before you can try to defend yourself. “But the thing is, we can’t know.”

Watching the realization hit your friends is like watching a car accident. You wince as Tagora, Tirona, and Stelsa glare at you furiously. Wanshi and Karako look confused, and then nervous.

“And why not?” Stelsa demands.

Thankfully, Daraya chucks her pen at Lanque with a hiss. “Because, you morons! If we know the wrong things, we could screw up everything! If they tell us we win, we might slack off at the wrong times and get ourselves killed. If we lose, then what’s stopping you from just giving up?”

“I don’t like not knowing things,” Tagora says coldly.

“Tough!”

Lanque grimaces. “This is definitely not where I meant to go with this. I was just hoping for a few words of reassurance from our dear friend that they actually have a plan to help us succeed.”

“And I do!” you promise desperately, shooting to your feet. “Look, I know it’s crazy of me to ask you guys to trust me with something like this, especially since I’ve been gone so long. But in…” You pause to do some quick math. “In seven nights I’m supposed to report back to my friends in the future. If we all work together, then we will be able to do this with the least amount of casualties, in the least amount of time.”

“Can we trust these friends of yours?” Tyzias asks.

“Yes. I wish I could tell you more, but…” you trail off, at a loss for words.

“This is barnacles,” Tirona whispers to Wanshi.

“The thing is, y’all don’t have a choice. They can time-travel. They can provide your rebellion with critical information about what to do next. Like it or not, they are your key to victory,” Mallek snaps, pointing to you with one sharp claw. “If you guys wanna keep whining about them trying to protect the stability of the timeline or whatever then that’s your fuckin’ problem. I trust them to do the right thing no matter what, and so should you.”

You want to hug him again. “Thank you, Mallek.”

“I can’t believe I’m saying this, but Adalov’s right. With all the shit they’ve been through, I think they’re more than capable of doing this for us,” Lanque agrees.

There’s a moment of tense silence. You’re nauseous again for an entirely different reason.

“... Fine. I mean… yes. You’re right,” Tagora finally admits, trying to not quail under the vicious stares of Daraya and Tyzias. He glances over at you a little remorsefully, and then sits back down besides Stelsa without another word. Stelsa nods, surprisingly quiet for once. Tirona gives you the peace sign and also keeps her mouth shut.

“I won’t let you guys down. That, I promise you,” you tell them.

“Then let’s go already,” Lanque sighs.

“Oh, yeah… uh, where are they?”

“I had them commissioned from a… special artist,” Tagora admits. “An indigo acquaintance of my kismesis.”

“Oh, worm? You and Galekh are official?” you gasp.

“Yes, yes we are. Now don’t go spreading my business around to just anybody! Anyways, his name is Bovois. After I pay him he will most likely try to kill me.”

“I… yeah, I don’t know why that took me off guard. Continue.”

Tagora smiles thinly. “The plan is simple. Bovois and I complete the transaction, I thank him for his time and walk away. He is a wealthy man and will therefore have somebody do the dirty work once I leave his property. I will be… relying on a few choice trolls to help me make sure they don’t succeed.”

“Or I could just teleport you out of there,” you protest.

“And have him call the drones on us once he sees you? I think not.”

You know he’s right, and it pisses you off. “Fine. I’m still coming, though. Just in case.”

“If you insist,” he says, but you can tell he’s happy you want to go with him. “Lanque and Stelsa will be the backup.”

“I’m taking Wanshi and Karako back to the caverns for afternoon classes. Call me with the results,” Daraya orders as she shoos the kids back towards the elevator.

“I’m taking back our brat, too.” Tyzias opts to just sling a squealing Tirona over her shoulder as she marches past Daraya.

“But I’m strong! I can beat up anybody!” Wanshi argues.

“Honk!” Karako makes his displeasure known with a few low notes deep in his throat, which sounds like somebody playing a rusty trumpet.

“Yeah, yeah, I know. Come on, Bronya’s already gonna kill me for bringing you two outside, anyways.”

“I know how to walk, Tyzias!” Tirona shrieks.

“Stop screaming in my ear, you short f--”

The chaos is shut off when the elevator doors slide shut. You decide right then and there that you’re never going to have kids of your own.

“Tegiri’s missing out on all the fun,” you tell Tagora.

“Tegiri can shove his sword where the moons don’t shine.” He looks over at Lanque and Stelsa. “I hope you two have been brushing up on your fighting skills, because it’s about to get messy.”

You feel something cool brush against your wrist, and you take Mallek’s hand in your own. He’s looking down at you with big blue eyes that say stay.

It’s too much, and you look down at the sign on his hoodie. “I’ll come back soon.”

“... Promise?”

“Always.”

:::

The four of you take the omniscuttlecar-- no, the omniscuttle… the bus. You take the fucking bus to the highblood part of Thrashthrust.

Somehow you guys find an empty car so that nobody sees your alien ass, but even then you stick close to your friends. You take the chance to catch up with Stelsa, who chats animatedly about a case she just won, which is super cool except you know nothing about Alternian law, so you just smile and nod as she goes on about some legislation invented to protect lowbloods except it really doesn’t. Tagora and Lanque launch into a passionate conversation about different high-brand clothes, which delights you until they turn and start making fun of you and Stelsa.

“Okay, okay! But at least my hair isn’t greasy!” Stelsa yells at Tagora.

“How dare you. I’ll have you know all of my hair products are the highest quality a teal can afford in this economy--”

“Economy? Bitch, that’s just caste oppression,” you shoot back.

He pauses for a second. “Shit. Maybe you’re right. It’s a shame about your pores, though.”

“Gor-Gor, I’m homeless, why would my pores be a priority.”

“Your hair is a little greasy,” Lanque snickers.

“It is not! That’s just hair gel--”

“At least Stelsa and I have asses,” you cut in.

Both Lanque and Tagora turn to you, looking so damn offended Stelsa starts cackling and almost falls out of her seat.

“That was low,” Tagora hisses.

“Yeah, I get low every time I do squats. That’s why I have an ass.”

The boys definitely would have taken turns destroying your life after that, but you’re literally saved by the bell when the speakers above you chime, letting you know you guys reached your destination. You feel the bus slow and your heartbeat speed up.

All at once, the fun drains out of the air like water down the drain. You all look at each other before Tagora gets up, pulls the door open, and marches down the collapsable stairs with his head held high. You’re not fooled, though. Tagora Gorjek is afraid, as he rightfully should be, and he’d rather die than admit it.

You fall in close behind him, with Stelsa and Lanque fanning out on either side. It’s easy to see why they were chosen for this mission-- both of them are big and strong.

“Never took you for the fighting type,” you tell Lanque as you walk down a road that leads to a fancy neighborhood. Each property is so large each hive is no bigger than a pencil eraser on the horizon. The place reeks of privilege.

He winks. “It’s called being well-rounded, darling.”

“Where’d you learn?”

“Let’s just say growing up in the caverns isn’t kind to those who… don’t become what people expect you to become.”

You’re not sure what to make of that, but he doesn’t say anything else on the matter, and you don’t push him. Right now, there’s bigger fish to fry.

Tagora leads you around a curve in the road and stops before the first path on Shatterbone Avenue. Charming. It leads up to an absolutely massive hive that makes Vriska’s castle look like a treehouse. Elegantly pointed spires reach up into the cloudy sky like they’re trying to spear the stars themselves, and buttresses line all the outside walls that you can see. The yard’s just as magnificent, with a lavish garden and an assortment of trees and shrubbery lining the property.  

It’s beautiful, but just looking at it makes you feel lonely. How could one person possibly live alone like this, much less grow up in it?

“... Huh,” you say instead of voicing your thoughts.

“Indeed.” Tagora swallows and takes a deep breath. “Well, here goes nothing.”

“We’ll be ready,” you promise him.

He nods stiffly before striding up the path. You, Stelsa, and Lanque slip into the cover of some dense shrub-thing. You’re glad this neighborhood is so spaced out, because if somebody saw some weird pale creature, a teal, and a jade all trying to hide in a bush the drones would be on you like Zebruh trying to get a date.

Through the brush, you see Tagora knock on the door three times and wait. It’s a solid twenty seconds before anybody answers, which you think is a little rude, but whatever.

You become a little less worried about social etiquette when Galekh’s indigo friend steps out to greet Tagora. The dude is fucking massive, with horns that twist around to the front like a bull’s, and with muscles like one, too. Tagora’s always been a little small, but standing in front of this absolute unit he didn’t look to be much more than a wiggler.

“Holy fuck,” you mumble. “Who let that thing out of the caverns?”

“Wasn’t me,” Lanque whispers back.

“Ssh!” Stelsa hisses.

The two start talking after Tagora bows to him. Bovois’s body language looks friendly enough, but from this distance it’s hard to tell. That, and troll body language is way different than human body language.

“Bovois is about to go get the bombs,” Lanque murmurs in your ear.

You shiver a little and tell yourself it’s because your friend is about to be attacked. “You can hear them from here?”

“Can’t you?”

“No.”

Stelsa flicks the both of you upside the head, and you wince. That was gonna bruise.

Sure enough, Bovois disappears back inside the hive for a moment before bringing out an innocent-looking black bag. Tagora opens it and looks inside. Apparently what he wants is in there, because he steps back to clasp Bovois’s huge hand.

“Are they shaking on it or is Gorjek getting his arm ripped off?” Lanque mutters.

“Pfft.”

Without fanfare, it’s over. Tagora bows again and strides off down the path, slinging the backpack over his shoulders. The door closes behind him and takes Bovois with it.

You hold your breath as Tagora nears the end of the walkway, turns, and looks around.

Nobody else is there. Nothing happens.

Stelsa and Lanque look at each other, then at you, and then you all look out at Tagora before carefully emerging back on to the road. Something stabs you in the thigh, and you grunt as you yank out the offending thorn to rub at the irritated area. Lanque brushes off a dead leaf on his sleeve with a look of disgust.

Without a word, the four of you start power walking back down to the neighborhood entrance. Nobody’s running, except you because you have short-ass legs. Just a small group of friends who got turned around and ended up in a highblood area. Nothing to see here, folks.

The walk to the entrance is the shortest and longest of your life. Somehow, all of you make it there, and no other troll in sight. The bus stop is just down the street, and a scuttlebuggy drives by with the bass turned all the way up.

“... Huh,” you say again.

“You’re gonna give me white hair, Gor-Gor,” Stelsa scolds.

Tagora makes a face. “Well--”

Annoyingly enough, it’s Lanque’s crazy good ears that save your asses when a dark blur comes flying around the corner with knives drawn. Tagora gets knocked out of the way just in time for the jade to take the full impact of the attack.

Stelsa screeches with fury as Lanque and the attacker go horns-over-heels into a tree and flings herself into the fray. You stare in horror as Lanque snarls and bites the shit out of his assailant’s forearm, only to get a knife to the shoulder. Stelsa grabs the attacker and flings them back into the tree with a solid thud. The new troll has to be tough as shit, because they just dodge out of the way when Stelsa goes in for the kill. They’re smaller but insanely fast, and before you can so much as blink they’re lunging for Tagora.

A scream builds in your throat, and then--

Lanque hooks his claws into their side, takes them to the ground just as you skid to a stop in front of Tagora. The two flip around in the turf, clawing at each other and screaming like mountain lions. There’s green and teal blood everywhere. It’s on fangs and hands and clothes and all over the blue-gray grass. Stelsa jumps back in, is slashed across the face, and almost gets stabbed, leaning back just in time to get cut across the nose.

Seeing trolls fight is terrifying to watch, but when they really get into it, it’s like watching wild animals try and kill each other.

The attacker finally kicks Lanque off them and whips around to slam their knee into Stelsa’s stomach. The teal goes down with a ragged wheeze, gray face going white. Lanque doesn’t even get the chance to get back up again before there’s a knife going for his gut.

You don’t even think about it, you just act. With a speed you didn’t think a human could have, you charge and ram into the assassin’s side as hard as you possibly can.

The ground and the sky switch places several times before you’re flat on your back. A million miles away, Tagora is screaming something. A shiny point of a silver blade comes down towards your chest.

You brace for impact.

It never comes.

Two huge yellow eyes are staring down at you, pupils blown out in shock. The rest of their face is hidden by their hood and a mask, but even before it’s ripped off by a shaking hand you know who this troll is. You’re not winded but there’s no air in your lungs.

“Polypa?!”

[morris-magus-merry-miller]

Chapter 5: The Marvelous Manor of Madness

The island was to be a two-hour trip from Port Town. Enough time for me to prepare a special little spell, which if this is not the final draft will likely be on this page if it hasn’t already been expended. Sorry about that, I’ll undo the effects if you weren’t the intended target. Hope you at least have a nice nap.

Anyways, it was a quick and uneventful boat ride, until the last moments. As we approached the island, we found there was an ominous storm brewing. Blood red clouds had gathered in the sky above Gladshire’s manor. I would not blame you, dear reader, if you find this storm very similar to the roiling pink clouds which had gathered when Ulong had frozen Dualwood. Certainly, that is what we feared as we approached the island. But this proved to be a different phenomenon entirely.

We dropped anchor at the shore and made our way inland on foot. As we approached the manor, we came upon four shambling animated corpses and a foreboding looking tree.

Issac, our dear nature expert, informed us that the tree was a very dangerous undead plant called a Hangman Tree. It’s a tree…that does exactly what its name implies. It’s an insidious creature that uses spores to trick your brain into thinking it’s nothing but a normal tree, or even a friendly treant. Then when your guard is down it snags you by the neck with its vines, strangles you to death, and then eats you!

As we formulated a plan of attack, Issac warned that it wasn’t particularly flammable by normal means—but it would likely be set ablaze by a well-placed lightning bolt.

That meant it was John and Vigo’s time to shine. John called upon his goddess’ wrath and bolts of lightning rained from the heavens, striking the tree and the zombies that meandered around it.

Strange that a goddess of death would have an affinity for storms…although I suppose many people are likely killed by lightning strikes, so it’s not utterly uncalled for. It would make more sense I think for a cleric worshipping Nairon’s goddess to strike down foes with lightning. But again, I am no expert on divine magic. If a goddess of death wants to grant her followers control of the weather, who am I to say it makes it seem as though the world we live in has no internal consistency?

With the zombies weakened, Vigo followed up with a wall of lightning that blew them apart. Thus in mere seconds only the tree remained.

I began a reading to focus my companions’ minds to the task at hand, and also sent a spell at the tree to slow its movements to a snail’s pace. Even if it released its spores, I thought, it wouldn’t be able to immediately grab any victims.

Well, I was right, but that didn’t stop it from releasing said spores. As Terrance and Nairon pushed forward, intent to take advantage of the plant’s slowed state, a cloud of spores were released into the air. I saw Candy let out a gasp, breathing in the mind-altering pollen. I couldn’t allow that to happen to my friend, of course. I snapped my book shut, abruptly ending my performance. The remaining magic was channeled to Candy, clearing her lungs of the dangerous substance.

Unfortunately, in doing so I left myself open to breath in the same pollen. Things got a bit fuzzy from there. The tree actually looked quite friendly. I think I was about to run up to it, before John utterly annihilated it with another lightning strike from above. It is quite possible I owe John a life debt for that, and I will repay him in kind.

 Nairon and Terrance had apparently also been taken in by the tree’s mind warping properties. They expressed discomfort with going any further after such a harrowing experience, and decided they would return to the ship and keep watch from there while we cleared out the manor.

So we parted ways, and our band continued onwards. As we approached the manor it was clear all was not well. Many of the once opulent windows had been shattered, and a quite deceased body hung out of one. Not moving, unlike the corpses that had stood vigil around the tree, thankfully.

However as we approached a voice spoke up from the body. At first it appeared a lingering spirit was calling for our aid. What we discovered, however, was that the body had one of those Stones of Farspeech on its person, and Oswald Gladshire was trying to contact us through it. The Wizard of the Stars was being held captive within his own tower by a vile necromancer—who also happened to be his grandfather. Gladshire requested our immediate aid, to clear out the monstrosities that now infested his home, and to free him from the bird cage he’d been locked within at the highest point of the tower.

We needed his guidance to save Dualwood, so we were of course going to do so regardless. Adventurers save nobles in distress because it’s the right thing to do, that is a given. That he offered to let us keep anything we picked up that could help us within his manor was, of course, a secondary concern.

He quickly dropped the call as he heard his captor approaching, but promised to keep in touch as the situation allowed.

 The inside was both as extravagant and as wrecked as the outside had been. Rubble blocked a ruined staircase, necessitating us going the long way around to get to higher ground.

There were a number of rooms down the halls to both sides, many with placards denoting what the room was. Vigo stuck he head into a room labelled “WC”, which he said didn’t have anything of interest. John and I went looking into the “Horse Room”, which was a mostly barren room with a single large golden statue of a horse. Someone—Gladshire I must presume—had placed sunglasses upon the horse’s face. Quite reminiscent of Nathaniel’s usual attire, in fact, although something about the statue gave me a feeling that this horse was much older and more venerable than my own dear companion. I gave him a polite nod in greeting, as I would Nathaniel if he had been there at the time, before being on my way.

Down the next hall we came upon an imposing metal door—Gladshire confirmed over the Stone of Farspeech that it was a vault. He was fairly certain some baddies had made their way inside, and asked that we unlock it and clear it out. One itty bitty little problem stood in the way of that—the door was protected by a device that was password protected. A skull mounted above the door would spit acid at anyone who guessed the password wrong, or tried to open the door through brute force. Gladshire didn’t know the password himself, he’d had his apprentice Elena set it for him, and he hasn’t seen her since the attack. All he knew was that he’d told her to set it to ‘something you will remember’.

Clever adventurers that we are, we took the most prudent course of action. Guessing wildly. Paige confirmed that a few…admittedly rather vulgar terms were not the password. I tried Elena’s name—after all she was sure to remember that! We brainstormed other possibilities, and were about to give up when Paige tried the word ‘Something’. While the door remained closed, the skull didn’t activate.

A brilliant thought hit me—Gladshire hadn’t said the password need be only one word. Heart pounding, excitement flowing through my veins, I spoke the password.

“Something you will remember”

And voila! The skull remained inactive, and there was the sound of a lock opening. I pushed open the door.

And immediately back-peddled for Candy to take the lead, as there was a golden skeleton waiting directly within the doorway. A swift flurry of kicks was all it took to do away with that little problem. We got a number of nifty trinkets courtesy of Gladshire’s generosity, and we continued on our way to keep clearing the manor of such ghouls as that. Not literal ghouls. I don’t think we faced any literal ghouls. A few…other things, as you’ll soon find, but no ghouls.

 We circled back around, finding that the next hallway led back the way we’d come, but also continued forward in the opposite direction. John found a “smoking room”, and he and Vigo took a number of seemingly enchanted cigars from there. One was as long as Vigo was tall, and smelled…just atrocious, really. I had to excuse myself, alongside Peanut whose poor sensitive bear nose must have been burning from the putrid smoke.

Next we came to a parlor. The room beyond had music coming from it. Issac decided to try to scout ahead. He transformed into an adorable little hedgehog and skittered forward to peek beyond the door.

He didn’t get far. In the next room a number of awakened skeletons waited, and they immediately spotted the tiny hedgehog that pushed his way into their midst. The music grew louder and more focused, as one of the skeletons—whom I later learned was named Georgio—began playing trumpet.

I felt a challenge had been issued, and whipped out Nathaniel’s flute to begin a tune of my own.

While Georgio and I provided background music for the skirmish, Candy had a more up close and personal fight with one of the musician’s friends. (A backup dancer perhaps…?) I threw my hat into the ring as well, so to speak, when the skeleton had some disparaging words to say about Candy. His companion may have been a fine musical talent, but a gentleman this one was not. I called up a new spell I’ve been toying with—biting words—and told him just what I thought about him speaking ill of my companions.

Between the five of us, the musician’s two companions fell quickly. Georgio didn’t seem to have much in the way of battle prowess himself, and quite frankly I felt no desire to destroy him. He was a man of true talent after all!

It would seem he had no desire for a physical confrontation anymore, either. He ceased his trumpeting and challenged me to a far more desirable duel—one not of magic or sword, but of musical might.

Unfortunately for him, he flubbed his notes rather quickly, while I was quite on point. He tipped his hat to me.

Before exploding.

…I know some people don’t handle a loss very well, but looking back that still seemed a bit excessive.

 I took both his trumpet and a fiddle from the wall, which I shall play in his short lived memory.

With the skeleton band out of the way, Issac stole a peek into the next room. It was…beyond description, and even if it weren’t I fear I don’t desire to make use of words to do it justice. You shall have to fill in the gory details yourself, dear reader. Suffice to say there was a veritable horde of Fetches. They were seated at the table eating. Not food—oh no—but viscera, scraps of flesh, the last remains of many a visiting noble’s carcass...

I apologize, I did say I would not describe it, but the memory is difficult to banish.

Standing before the feasting horde was a man. Although ‘standing’ and ‘man’ are both inexact. It was more ‘floating’ and ‘ghost’.

I recognized the man from some old news I’d read some time back, while Candy realized she’d seen this man first-hand in the past. A vile fellow by the name of Count Bartholomew McLaurin. For those not in the know, he was once a count in Donmum City. However he was caught up in some dark business—human experimentation, warping creatures together, and who knows what else. All at the behest of some group called the Society of Great Enlightened Ones. He died in an explosion, a suicide bomb, I suppose to escape any punishment for his crimes.

What connection he had to this place was at first unclear. Without knowing we feared we couldn’t best him permanently—for as everyone knows, a ghost will just keep coming back if it still has unfinished business in the mortal realm.

And it would seem I was to be the one to uncover the truth. The others were rather quick to volunteer me for the task. I cannot deny I have a knack for words. I wouldn’t be an author if not! But I must say this entire situation was rather off putting. Quite frankly, I wasn’t certain that the entire room wouldn’t just mindlessly attack me. Not that all undead are mindless—as we saw from Georgio that is very much not the case, and I am well aware of the rise of awakened undead in cities across the globe. However these were…you know, eating viscera in the middle of a manor where most everyone had apparently been slaughtered…it didn’t seem like an ideal place for a chat. Georgio aside.

Still, my companions felt this was the best course of action. The fetches wouldn’t be difficult due to their pyrophobia, but we feared the ghost alone might be enough to drag one or all of us to the grave if we weren’t careful. So we hatched a plan to speak to the ghost, butter him up to learn what we could about what bound him to the mortal plane. We brainstormed possible codewords to use to call in reinforcements if things got out of hand—and settled on ‘would you like some merlot with that’, since the undead were eating. Issac also decided to come along with me—transforming into an adorable little black rabbit who helped calm my nerves tremendously. I wonder if anyone has ever told Issac he’d make an amazing therapy animal in that form?

To be quite honest with you, dear reader, I found the idea of talking to a ghost a rather frightening concept. I know we were in a haunted manor, but I didn’t expect to find a real ghost of all things!

As a wise man once said “I ain’t afraid of no ghosts”. Actually, I think maybe Vigo said that. Regardless, with a plan in place, a very fluffy bunny in hand, and a few spells cast to grant myself a…let’s say confidence boost, I strode forward into the feast of horrors.

[pavlagomba]

Sleep-over in a Bhutanese monastery

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“Wow! You will sleep in a monastery with sixty monks practicing tantra?” My best friend’s voice reflected awe, worry, concern and even readiness for the same endeavour when I told her about my plans for the mission to Bhutan.

“Relax, cool down. Monks have to observe strict celibacy. They can’t even shake a woman’s hand,” I tried to dispel a common misconception about the Buddhist tantra that is often held by (not only) Czech people. “And after all, the majority of them are children – it is a monastic school.”

The Chorten Nyingpo monastery in the Kabjisa region was built more than 350 years ago. Before then, this place was deemed cursed, full of evil demons, and people were too frightened to come near. Drukpa Kuenley, the “divine madman” and distinguished lama, who lived in the 15th century had fortunately changed that. From the opposite hill, he threw a burned stick at the cursed hillock, by which he purified the place and expelled all demons. The stick took root and grew into shadowy, twisted tree that dominates the monastery main gate up to this day.

Unsurprisingly, even the way up to the monastery is deeply spiritual. After you leave the main tarmac road and drive along a narrow track in a steep slope, you will hurriedly say your prayers hoping that there will not be any vehicle in the opposite direction because you wouldn’t stand a chance in trying to pass by. If you are fortunate enough and make it up the hill into 2,7000 metres above sea level, on the left you can admire a breathtaking view of the white walls protecting the main temple. As if it was a fairy tale! If the villagers burn the grass before new planting, veiling the monastery into a puff of mystical smoke, the scene might bring tears to your eyes, as it did to mine.

Chorten Ningpo is a monastic school that prepares boys for their livelong mission. A few years ago, UNICEF built a source of drinking water, washrooms and toilets here, and now continues working with the teachers so that, in addition to mastering rituals and memorizing holy text, young monks obtain standard education and have also the possibility to play games, do sports, and are protected from bullying, violence, and abuse. It used to be a common practice for the Bhutanese families to send one of their sons to a monastery. Today, however, wealthier parents prefer to send their children to schools and universities abroad, and so monasteries rather cater for orphaned children or children of poorer background.

I am curious what has changed since my visit last year!

First and foremost, the monastery has a new head. Lama Nado (my Bhutanese colleague Phuntsho tells me that in the Dzongkha language that means dark) meets us for the first time and is quite reserved. He lifts the door curtain of the main room where teachers stay and beckons us to enter. First of all, we are invited to drink butter tea sudja that is inseparable from every visit in Bhutan. A surprisingly cold, wood-panelled room is decorated with pictures of the royal dynasty on one wall and all manifestations of Guru Rinpoche, who brought Buddhism to Bhutan, on the other wall. A blue carpet lies on the floor, sheer luxury! Swarms of bees on the carpet that look as if they were still alive. That hunch was correct as painfully confirmed by my colleague Phuntsho. I attempt to explain the objectives of our mission in a friendly and yet fair and humble tone – and it paid off in the end: I noticed a faint smile on lama Nado’s face. Perhaps he had just been stressed by the visitors from abroad and relieved his anxiety once it turned out that we are quite normal.

Young monks’ day starts even before the dawn – at 4:30 in the morning. Two teachers wake them up by banging the gong that is strategically placed in front of the boys’ bedrooms. Within a few minutes, first little figures wrapped in red robes leave the rooms and descend the stairs to the bathrooms. The teachers keep banging, they are now faster and more insistent, so in a quarter of an hour no sleepyhead stays in the bed. Breakfast? Not even close. At five o’clock, young monks sit on the floor of the classroom muttering their prayers. That takes an hour, then the lessons begin. They are not much different from prayers: boys recite holy texts; however, they are less coordinated and shout at one another.

By the law, the monasteries should only accept children that are at least seven years old. Yet the smallest children here look younger – five or six years old. The cause of this may lie in the fact that every fifth child in Bhutan is stunted due to mother’s anaemia and chronic malnutrition in pregnancy or undernourishment in their first years of life. That is damage that cannot be compensated later.

First meal of the day is served at eight. Small monks are awake for more than four hours, and unlike me, they look quite fresh and lively. Breakfast picnic! Looking at two rows of monks sitting on the grass in front of the main sanctuary, I just cannot avoid thinking about this association. Older monks serve rice and chilli from big bowls. All of them must be terribly hungry, yet each of them first makes a small rice roll as an offering and puts it aside. This is eagerly awaited by the dogs that live in the monastery. Bhutanese people believe that a dog is the closest reincarnation to a man. As a result, any good you do to a dog you are likely to be rewarded for even within this life. If by any chance the supreme judge of karma decided that I was too naughty in this life and couldn’t possibly return as a human, I wouldn’t mind becoming a dog in the Chorten Ningpo monastery :-).

After breakfast, it is again time for study. The boys stay in the classroom for the entire morning. At one o’clock, young monks get lunch: the most modest meal of the day consisting of tea and few biscuits. This is a great time for having a siesta – waking up very early made me so tired that part of my body would relish a nice afternoon nap. “Will they go to bed now?” I ask full of hope. Lama Nado smiles faintly: “No, no, they must study more. It requires discipline and self-restraint to become a monk!”

The boys come back to the room, and though I am dead tired, I pretend to be very involved and excited. The afternoon is time for rituals. The boys take turns in groups scattered around the monastery: they practice their musical instruments (thought there is not enough of them for every boy, so some young monks substitute a trumpet with their robes), or they made ritual objects from dough, older ones devote their time to “religious polemic”. This means that half of them sit on the lawn and the second standing group “demolish” them with arguments. The topic is prayer flag colours: white stands for purity/wind, blue represents water, green is for nature, red is for fire, and yellow is the colour of the earth. I’m trying to find out more about this when a group of young monks pulling a body of a dead dog disturbs this philosophical debate. Each of them holds one of the dog´s leg and even though it is unlikely for a dog to be so heavy, tiny boys’ backs bend under its weight. My surprised face made lama Nado explode with laugher: “No, the dog is not dead. They only have it castrated down in the village.” And he points to a pile of wood behind the sanctuary from where I hear many whimpering weak noises. Perhaps, I will need to rethink my reincarnation plans.

The sun approaches the summits and ancient trees surrounding the monastery cast dense shadows. Lama prepared afternoon tea for us. Now it is black, without milk, yummy! The monks brought the kitchen table outside, and I realize how special this moment is. “Are there any tourists here?” I ask. “Recently, we have had more of them. They built a new hotel down in the valley and the tourists sometimes visit us too. One American donor even pays an English teacher who arrives once a week.” It is just a matter of time when someone finds out that the tourist who pay 1.2000 dollars a night won’t hesitate to pay at least as much for a picnic with a lama. The unique magic of this place will be lost though. I secretly wish that tourist found a different source of amusement. And I am even more proud of UNICEF’s programs that always respect the local tradition and culture, wherever we work.

“For monks, water and hygiene is very important. Since the bathrooms were built, the boys have been sick only rarely, even in winter. Before that they had often developed skin diseases or infections, but it has radically improved lately. Water is also needed for rituals in the temple. Anyway, we need to extend the source of water because it is dying down.” The monastery has also embarked upon higher monks’ education and stirred up considerable interest that necessitates increasing the capacity from 50 to 100 beds and building a proper retreat facility. In order to become a lama, you need to spend 3 years, 3 months, 3 weeks, 3 days, and 3 hours meditating in a secluded place without any contact with other people.

At five o’clock we have dinner. Young monks gather in the dining room. Every boy carries his own metal plate. He will need to wash it on his own after dinner. It is practical: older monks who are in charge of the kitchen do not have to bother with all plates but clean only big pots in which they cook – nothing other than – rice and chilli sauce. Most monasteries are vegetarian as ordered by the chief abbot. Nothing surprising in a country where Buddhism is recognized as a state religion and slaughterhouses are banned. On the other hand, a lack of proteins contributes to anaemia in 44% of Bhutanese children. 15 years ago, it was a terrifying 80 percent. Among other things, the percentage decreased thanks to UNICEF’s programme at primary schools that started “iron Thursday” and advocated for the fortification of salt with iron.

Today’s dinner in Chorten Ningpo would not please nutrition specialists – again it consists of rice and chilli. That is why asking children here about their favourite food is ridiculous. They eat whatever they get. That is monk’s life: they do not eat when they are hungry, they do not rest when tired, they do not wear what they would like to wear – austerity and adherence to a strict routine is a way of fulfilling their duty.

The dinner is silent. Extraordinary, considering how many children are there. Noble silence is probably part of a ritual, and I am grateful for it right now because I am at the end of my tether, too exhausted to talk. Some boys gather in bigger groups while others sit alone or with one mate – I am thinking about what kinds of relationships can be forged in the artificial environment where the youngest children are unsupported by parents and must be largely self-reliant.

It must be difficult for the newcomers to get used to following such a strict programme. While other young monks go outside to wash their plates, seven-year-old Younten, who has been living in the monastery only for three months, stands behind the dining room with eyes full of tears. He is embarrassed by strangers, so he swiftly dries the tears, tidies his robe, and joins his mates. His parents separated and he had to live with his grandma. She was, however, too frail to take care of a small child. So the monastery is the only Younten’s option. He has to get used to it.

Separation from the family is the only disadvantage that 17-year-old Dawa Tashi, the best student of the school, mentions as well. He has been living here for five years and has coped with it so well that he sometimes looks more self-confident than the lama himself. “I like it here. The major benefit of being a monk is profound wisdom and knowledge. I would like to become a teacher and be a role-model for the others,” he says determinedly. I trust him.

Time after dinner brings some leisure pursuit. The monks set up a net on a holy tree, wrap their robes around the knees so that the clothes won’t bother them, and one of the monks brings a volleyball. Even though it is getting dark and the ball is hard to see, the boys keep playing, passing, setting and hitting the ball – relishing every single moment of being children again.

But Younten does not play. Perhaps he is too small for volleyball or not in the team yet. He sits by the pile of wood and plays with eight little puppies. Lama Nado expresses sympathy for that. He sits next to Younten and speaks with him while the puppies are biting their toes. Some people might say that this is too cute to be true, I am thinking as I look at the photos that I had taken. “Pavla, Pavla, mother is coming back!” my colleague Phuntsho cries with urgency. She worries that the puppies’ mother may attack me. I’d rather take a step back.

The monastery and its surroundings were plunged into complete darkness, and I am looking forward to creeping into my tiny room on the first floor. My mattress on the floor and a thick blanket look as if it was the best place in the whole universe after the exhausting day.

I should conclude with something wise. But the day has not yet ended for young monks! They hurry to the temple for an evening prayer. I can barely catch up with them. Recitation, songs, holy scrolls reading peppered with clinking and drumming – over and over again. Huh. The smallest kids also have enough. Some of them have fallen asleep in the lotus position with their heads falling forward and back until their mates poke them into their ribs to wake them up. The supervising teacher generously overlooks that. Every time the singing stops, I wish it were the end, but my hopes are dashed. The evening prayer last until eight p.m. – one and a half an hours. “It usually takes only an hour, but one villager passed away yesterday, and the relatives asked the monks for a prayer for his soul, so it’s longer today,” my colleague whispers to me.

Lama Nado finally gets up and leaves followed by the teachers. Hallelujah, done! But what is going on again? Young monks have to stay in the classroom! “They will have one more hour of study, their day ends at nine,” Phuntsho answers my unspoken question. And really, boys pick up their books and recite the texts even a bit louder than during the prayer. That made my jaw drop!

After nine they finally leave the classroom. The yellow light from the dining room glances softly. Lama Nado and I stand in the darkness outside and thought the window, we look at about ten boys sitting on the benches and sipping their tea from tin mugs. The dining room looks chilly and inhospitable. I wrap myself subconsciously into my jumper soaked with cool Himalayan air and ponder what warmth could a thin polyester fabric used for monks’ robes retain. “The evening tea is not compulsory, only some boys would come,” says Nadu. Five, ten minutes for tea, then they wash their faces and brush their teeth and at half past nine the boys are in their beds.  I thought that I would see a sky full of stars in the Himalayas. The air is clean and fresh, but the night is cloudy, so the only light steams from the hotel down in the valley.

I do not want any tea now. Because I would need to turn on light, tiptoe on creaky floorboards, go down the steep wooden stairs and then cross the whole 100-meter wide courtyard to enter the bathrooms at night. For now, I will not stick to my water intake.

Last glance at the sanctuary and the flags that take all prayers to heaven. At night, the monastery looks completely different than in the daylight. I feel great ADMIRATION and RESPECT for the small monks that did not choose this way of life.

I know that monasteries have a prominent role in the Bhutanese society which we, the foreigners, admire so much. And that monk’s life is devoted to discipline, modesty and self-denial which may ultimately lead into the enlightenment. Yet I can’t help thinking about their right to have a standard childhood. They have a right to be with their parents, right to play, right to rest, right to acquire standard education.

One night in the monastery has changed a lot for me. Now when I wake up in Prague in the morning, I have to think about how much these boys had already done. When I feel tired after work and glance at my watches, I count how many hours more the monks will have to study. I decided that I will never complain again when I am in a hurry, exhausted or drained. And one more thing: I am proud that we take a small part in supporting these children to have clean water and hygiene facilities. Together with the local authorities, we work on improving the conditions these children live in – helping to protect the special and irreversible period that is called CHILDHOOD.

Photo Pavla Gomba and Vít Bělohradský, translation Petra Běličová.

[foursideharmony]

Changeling AU: The Good Doctor

Word Count: 1,799

Warnings: Therapy visit, sad family story, vomit mention

Pairing: None

Summary: How did Roman survive his time in the special needs school without being Undone? He had help...

A/N: I actually went to a psychiatrist as a child. This was roughly 30 years ago at this point, I remember very little about it, and anyway it didn't actually help me. So apologizing in advance if this doesn't accurately reflect contemporary therapy visits.

The couch was soft, at least—upholstered with brown faux-leather that had worn a little in spots but was still perfectly serviceable. It reminded Roman of some of the antique furnishings at Caer Flamingo…which would have been more comforting if he had more confidence that he would ever see Caer Flamingo again once St. Dymphna’s was done with him.

“Just wait right here, Roman,” the receptionist said in a sickly-sweet, chirpy tone, “and the counselor will be with you in few minutes. Feel free to play with any of the soft toys or action figures in here, but please don’t touch the figurines on the shelves. Do you want a cup of water before I leave you alone?”

“No thanks,” said Roman, flinching at the slight tremor that came unbidden to his voice.

“All right.”

She left the room and swung the door until it was just ajar, leaving Roman alone with his thoughts and about twenty different stuffed animals and superheroes. He didn’t pick any of them up right away, instead investigating the contents of the room.

The figurines the receptionist had mentioned were clustered along the numerous bookshelves, and like the toys, consisted entirely of cartoon characters. The groupings were more-or-less sensible—three Looney Tunes characters, a couple Disney Princesses, a few others that Roman didn't recognize but that shared an art style. If he wasn't supposed to touch them, did that mean they were there for the counselor's own enjoyment? If so, that was...unexpected.

Directly across from the couch was an armchair upholstered in the same faux-leather. Presumably that was where the counselor would sit while interrogating him, although at the moment it was occupied by an absurdly large plush of Winnie the Pooh. Someone had put a fake lab coat and a pair of spectacles on it. Roman wrinkled his nose at the crude attempt at humor, and decided he'd seen enough. He turned sideways on the couch and drew his knees up to his chest. It wouldn't be long now...the counselor would arrive, barrage him with questions, and pick apart his soul. They would declare that Roman was abnormal and needed to be fixed, and maybe put him on some sort of medication, and just like that, his life as one of the Shining Host would be over when it had barely begun. Lady Valerie had said so.

Roman balled up his fists and pressed them to his forehead, forcing himself not to sink into despair. Lady Valerie had said...but Thomas had said something quite different, something much more hopeful...he had to hold onto that.

He nearly jumped out of his skin when someone abruptly started singing baritone right outside the room. There were no words—just “dum da dum” syllables, but the tune was...a fanfare? Roman was painfully reminded again of Caer Flamingo, with its trumpeters and troubadours...but then the song continued. A hand came through the narrow gap in the doorway, fingers wiggling in time to the music, which sounded more and more awkward the longer it continued. Finally, the singer reached a crescendo and flung the door wide, springing into the room like a jazz dancer closing out Act 1.

The counselor—as Roman assumed this was—wore a tan suit, a grass-green necktie, dark-rimmed eyeglasses, and a goofy grin. “Good afternoon! My name is Dr. Picani, I use he/him pronouns, and I will be your counselor for today and the foreseeable future! You must be Roman...unless you prefer a different name?”

Roman could only blink in confusion. He had never met a regular mortal grown-up who behaved like this. Was it a trick of some kind?

“Um...Roman's fine,” he said.

“Ah!” Dr. Picani continued, shutting the door firmly and crossing to the armchair. “Dr. Pooh Bear! Thank you for keeping my seat warm!” He moved the plush to the floor and settled into the chair, pulling a small notepad and pen out of his jacket pocket. “So then. I'll start with the same question I ask all my new patients: Do you how do, Roman?”

Had he heard that right? “Do I...what?”

“Listen again,” said Dr. Picani, in a tone of hushed excitement. “Do you...how do? Did you hear it that time?”

“'How do you do'...backwards?” Roman guessed.

“Not backwards, exactly. More...turned inside out. Like the Simpsons, in that one Halloween episode! You've seen it, right? No?” He cleared his throat and shifted in the chair, changing the mood of the interview. “Roman, do you know why you're here?”

Roman looked away. “Because my parents think I'm crazy,” he said bitterly. “And my teachers, too. At my real school, I mean.”

“Let me stop you there,” said Dr. Picani. “I don't want you to think St. Dymphna's isn't your real school. It can seem like a different world here, and maybe you've heard it's only for people who are full of delusions, and it's only going to be temporary...but it's still real. As real as the Ghostbusters.”

Roman's gaze snapped back into position. Despite that out-of-the-clear-blue reference to some old movie, that description was almost suspiciously relatable. That first week, after the theme park...

“Let me explain the situation as I understand it,” the counselor continued. “Roman, you're here because you're having trouble living in the world outside your head. My job is to help you figure out how to do that...without necessarily changing who you are as a person. The unique person that you are is a worthwhile one, and you shouldn't have to turn into someone else in order to get by. I want you to know that.”

Roman felt tears pricking the corners of his eyes. This was reminding him so much of what Thomas had said in the junk pile that it was painful. He blinked the moisture down and put on the haughtiest expression in his repertoire. “You're reciting,” he said. “Like a speech. You don't really mean it.”

“It's true, I do practice saying things like that. Using the right words is an important skill in my job here. But I also mean it. My goal is to help you, Roman. But I can't do that unless you cooperate with me.” He turned a page in his notebook. “Why don't I let you do some of the talking for a while? Do you remember how your troubles started?”

Troubles... Roman decided to humor the misconception for the time being, and suddenly the words were spilling out. “Yeah, it was when we went on vacation to Disney over Christmas. Everything there was just so...wonderful. It's like every kind of story come to life, all in the same place. They make it so you can really believe in magic. And so...so...so I did. And I found out that it was real, all of it, even after our vacation was over and we left.” The tears came again, too thick and fast to be stopped. “There really is magic. Why won't anyone believe in it?”

He fully expected Dr. Picani to shoot him down, but to his amazement, the counselor was nodding thoughtfully. “That makes a lot of sense. You're probably not the first.”

“The first...what?”

“The first to enter Chrysalis in a theme park.” Roman's eyes bulged with shock, but Dr. Picani was forging ahead. “After all, don't they call it The Most Magical Place on Earth? Where Dreams Come True? I always found those commercials to be pretty corny, but the place is focused on imagination and art. Why shouldn't it be capable of connecting susceptible individuals to the Dreaming?”

Roman leapt to his feet, hand scrabbling at his hip to draw the sword that he was not presently wearing. “How do you know these things?” he demanded. “You're not Kithain! I'd be able to see it if you were!”

The counselor slowly stood up, walked over to the desk in the corner, and took a framed photograph from it. He handed it to Roman, who examined it. It was an older photo, in color but with that slight smudginess that indicated it was taken using film rather than a digital camera, and depicted a girl in her early teens, and a boy several years younger, posing on monkey bars in a playground. The boy was just recognizable as a young Picani, while the girl...

Roman's eyes widened again. The girl shared a family resemblance with the boy, but...while the camera could only capture the mortal seeming, there were the little tells in her appearance, in the cant of her eyes and the shape of her nose. She was a changeling.

“No, Roman, I am not one of you. But my sister is. Or was, I guess. She's still alive, but we've barely spoken in years. She was...she lost her fae self, you see.”

“She was Undone,” Roman stated, running his fingers over the glass in the photo frame.

“Thank you, that's the word I was looking for. Our parents thought she was crazy. And so did her teachers. They wouldn't believe in magic.” Roman looked up. Dr. Picani was still smiling, but now it was a sad smile. “So Laura was put into psychotherapy in order to 'cure' her of her 'delusions.' The therapists wouldn't believe in magic either, and by the time they were done, Laura was a normal—completely human—girl.”

Roman felt the blood leaving his face and he began to grow dizzy. Autumn People... He let himself fall back onto the couch, setting the photo aside lest he drop it from his trembling hands. The dizziness got worse and he leaned over, letting his head droop between his knees.

“Easy there,” said Dr. Picani's voice, sounding oddly far away. He sat beside Roman—he felt the movement of the cushions—and rubbed his back. “Do you need the nurse? Or something to throw up into?” Roman shook his head as the dizziness subsided. “Roman, I'm not going to let that happen to you. That's the main reason I became a therapist—so that if I met any other young changelings, I could help them come to terms with their place in the world without making them turn out like Laura. And now I've met you. When they gave us your file, I found your story so familiar...I requested to have you as my patient. You can talk to me about your world, and I'll know that it's real. You're going to be all right. You're going to be you. Are you willing to work with me on that?”

Roman carefully sat up, noting with satisfaction that his head no longer spun. He allowed himself a careful smile. “I think so.”

“Then permit me to ask once more—third time's the charm, right?—do you how do?”

“Do...I...pretty good?” Roman guessed.

Dr. Picani beamed.

A/N: As of this writing, there have been two “Cartoon Therapy” episodes, and Dr. Picani's tie is color-coded for each. I chose to continue that theme here. Green is a color often associated with faeries in folklore because of their ties to nature.

Taglist: @k9cat

[deadcactuswalking]

REVIEWING THE CHARTS: 22/05/2021 (Olivia Rodrigo, J. Cole’s ‘The Off-Season’, Nicki Minaj)

Yeah, it’s a big week, given the impact of J. Cole, Jorja Smith, Olivia Rodrigo (more on that next week) and the remaining impact of the BRIT Awards. There’s a lot of nonsense on this chart, a busy as hell one at that, but this surprisingly did not affect the #1, as the remix to “Body” by Russ Millions and Tion Wayne spends a third week at the top. Let’s just attack this head on. Welcome back to REVIEWING THE CHARTS.

Rundown

First of all, let’s get this nonsense out of the way: what happened to songs already on the UK Top 75 chart, which is what I cover? Well, a fair few of them dropped out. Any song that spent five or more weeks in the chart or peaked in the top 40 is considered a notable drop-out, and this week, they include “Wants and Needs” by Drake featuring Lil Baby off of the return last week, “Track Star” by Mooski, “Heat” by Paul Woolford and Amber Mark, “6 for 6” by Central Cee, “Patience” by KSI featuring YUNGBLUD and Polo G, “Hold On” by Justin Bieber, “We’re Good” by Dua Lipa, “Commitment Issues” by Central Cee (Gosh, didn’t think J. Cole would take a chunk out of this guy’s audience specifically), “Up” by Cardi B, “Streets” by Doja Cat and finally, “Get Out My Head” by Shane Codd, but also interestingly “i n t e r l u d e” by J. Cole dropping out off of the top 40 debut despite the album boost. This doesn’t mean it didn’t perform well but rather this is demonstrating this silly chart rule where in the top 100, one artist can only have three songs, preventing album bombs that you see on the US Billboard Hot 100. It makes the chart less accurate but arguably more diverse and hence fun for me to talk about.

There are also a few returning entries to add some fuel to this chart fire, one that has already combusted in the US this week, as “Slumber Party” by Ashnikko featuring Princess Nokia is back at #70 thanks to the video, “All You Ever Wanted” by Rag’n’Bone Man is back at #51 thanks to a delayed album boost, and the same can be said for “Addicted” by Jorja Smith at #49.

Then we have our notable losses, songs that fell at least five spots down the chart this week, including “WITHOUT YOU” by the Kid LAROI at #18, “Higher Power” by Coldplay falling big off of the debut at #25, “Your Power” by Billie Eilish at #26, “Didn’t Know” by Tom Zanetti at #28, “Heat Waves” by Glass Animals at #30, “Leave the Door Open” by Silk Sonic at #31, “Don’t You Worry About Me” by Bad Boy Chiller Crew at #39, “Latest Trends” by A1 x J1 at #46, “Last Time” by Becky Hill at #52, “All I Know So Far” by P!nk at #55 off of the debut, “My Head & My Heart” by Ava Max at #57, “Martin & Gina” by Polo G at #58, “Miss the Rage” by Trippie Redd featuring Playboi Carti dropping hard off of the debut at #60 (Really, what was expected here?), Travis Scott’s remix of HVME’s remix of Travis Scott’s “Goosebumps” at #61, “Cover Me in Sunshine” by P!nk and Willow Sage Heart at #63, “Don’t Play” by Anne-Marie, KSI and Digital Farm Animals at #65, “Sunshine (The Light)” by Fat Joe, DJ Khaled and Amorphous at #66, “Tonight” by Ghost Killer Track featuring D-Block Europe and Oboy at #71, and finally, “Calling My Phone” by Lil Tjay and 6LACK at #73.

That’s not to say there weren’t any notable gains however as we do have some interesting remnants of BRITs excitement and some other reasons for our gains this week, which include “One Day” by Lovejoy (more on them later) at #54, “It’s a sin” by Elton John and Years & Years at #47, “Way Too Long” by Nathan Dawe, Anne-Marie and MoStack at #43, “drivers license” by Olivia Rodrigo at #35 off of the success of “good 4 u” (again, more on that later), “Black Hole” by Griff at #23 thanks to the BRITs, and finally, “deja vu” by Olivia Rodrigo at #11. Really, all of this is just me stalling because this is a massive week – I’m writing this early – let’s just get through this... starting with—oh, for God’s sake.

NEW ARRIVALS

#75 – “Taunt” – Lovejoy

Produced by Cameron Nesbitt

Two weeks in a row, ladies and gentlemen: Minecraft YouTuber-core. How this happens I have no idea but regardless, the people of the UK seem to enjoy this Wilbur Soot guy’s new band. Is the new single better than the last one that charted from this EP, at least? Well, yeah, it is, mostly because at least this one’s an actual pop rock tune that, whilst derivative again, has more hooks than “One Day”, especially those stop-and-start-again verses that give me mathcore flashbacks, just with less of a catharsis to come from it other than that infectious, trumpet-laden chorus. The content is pretty gross if anything, seemingly focusing in on this past relationship from secondary school in which Wilbur tears into a girl for being insecure despite her privileges... for seemingly no reason. I mean, surely, you’ve moved on, right? Thankfully, Wilbur does get his comeuppance by the end of the song as the girl throws his drink at him, but it does leave the rest of the song with a pretty spiteful taste in my mouth that can’t be avoided by some pretty, 2000s indie rock-esque instrumentals. It doesn’t help that Wilbur Soot is such a non-presence as well, which I can see improving as the band goes on to record more material but the problem is with this early stage is that for now, it’s all rather primitive... yet it’s still charting. Oh, and if any people happen to find this that are fans of this guy, I am terrified of you so I’ll clarify that I don’t dislike this band at all, I’m just not a fan of what I’ve heard. I just wanted to put that out there because I value my personal information.

#74 – “Crocodile Teeth” – Skillibeng

Produced by Adde Instrumentals and Johnny Wonder

So last week, Nicki Minaj re-released her classic 2009 mixtape Beam Me Up Scotty onto official streaming services for the first time, with a remastered mix of some of her classic remixes as well as some new tracks or fan-favourite loosies sprinkled in. Why do I say this in reference to some random unrelated track, you ask? Well, we’ll get back to Nicki later but this song was actually remixed by Nicki and appears on that mixtape, despite baring no resemblance or relation to that mixtape at all, given this was released in 2020. The UK Singles Chart is particularly inconsistent is crediting remixes however, so we have the original here and, for what it’s worth, I quite like this. Skillibeng isn’t the most interesting presence but does his job in being vaguely menacing and violent over this cheap piano-led Afroswing instrumental with some questionable bass mastering. The song is in Patois but you can get the gist that it’s gunplay and flexing, typically stuff you’d hear in any UK drill track and it’s generic for sure but catchy enough to ignore. This version of the song is completely passable but I do think it is elevated by Nicki’s short introductory verse on the remix. I’d obviously have preferred there be more interplay but the remix was probably only known to Skillibeng when Nicki’s lawyers reached out anyway.

#72 – “Straightenin” – Migos

Produced by DJ Durel, Atake, Sluzyyy, OSIRIS, Nuki and Slime Castro

So Migos are finally preparing to release their highly-anticipated record Culture III as the boys are back together after some time apart, in which they have had varying levels of success, with Offset probably delivering the best solo material because he has both the best qualities of Takeoff and Quavo and always delivers on guest verses... I’m sorry, what about this needed six producers? This beat is not bad by any stretch with some vague flute loop eerily played under a rote trap beat, of which the bounced 808s are probably of most interest, but I do not understand how one person, let alone just an AI, couldn’t have made this alone. Regardless, the beat is good enough to make Quavo sound like he finally cares, even if he’s just going to talk about how he just saw Tenet – a bit late to the party – and how he turned a pandemic to a “band-emic”. Yeah, okay, so we’re going to ignore Mr. Quavious and move onto Takeoff and Offset who... at least have some good flows, albeit just the same triplet deliveries they’ve had for years. I think the most interesting part about this whole song is the slippery backing vocal that follows Quavo in the later choruses, which shows an attention to detail I missed from these guys. There’s only so much I can hear Quavo say “don’t nothin’ get straight ‘bout straightenin’” before I lose my mind, though, especially by the time we get to that awkward outro, so I can’t call myself a fan of this. If we’re speaking trap-rap from acts on hiatus, I really would have preferred “Lay wit Ya” by Isaiah Rashad and Duke Deuce to chart but I guess these guys will do.

#64 – “Independence Day Freestyle” – Fredo

Produced by Handz

By the end of this episode, I will never want to hear skittering hi-hats ever again. For now, however, we’ve got the same genre, different country as we go home to Fredo, a British rapper who’s pretty consistently good to be fair to him and did release an album I liked earlier this year. This is just a random freestyle he dropped last week because he felt like it, and here it is on the chart. Okay, well, it isn’t an actual freestyle because nothing that’s called a freestyle actually is in 2021, but that doesn’t mean it can’t be a trap banger in itself and it’s got the foundation for it. I love the eerie chipmunk vocal sample that adds a touch of soul to the menacing keys before they get drowned out by trap percussion and Fredo going through his typical rags-to-riches commentary and memories of gang violence in one massive verse that somehow keeps my interest throughout the entire three minutes. The flow is about as smooth as it gets with UK rap, typically a lot stiffer, especially in drill, and the mixing’s fine, so yeah, I can’t really complain. I’d have preferred a chorus, obviously, and there are extended freestyles we’ll talk about later that do this a lot better, but for now, I can dig this, especially considering it’s pretty damn quotable for what it is. “If I fell off, I must have fell off the stairs into some elevators” is a bar, as is when he says he’s got more foreign cars than an Asian wedding or when he calls himself “Lord of the Bling”... okay, maybe that one’s not as impressive.

#62 – “The Great Escape” – Blanco and Central Cee

Produced by LiTek and WhyJay

Central Cee is a more familiar name but you may not know Blanco who, despite the collaboration with Cee making it ripe for comparison and comedy, is not a French white rapper. Rather, he’s from pioneering drill group Harlem Spartans and this is actually his first solo charting song thanks to Cee’s appearance. As you’d expect, this has some loud drill production and vague acoustic guitar loop as well as some stuttering vocal production peppered with dark 808s (that do bang here in all honesty) and pointless alarm sounds. Whilst drill is so standardised now, I do actually like this beat because it’s what I want to hear Cee on; sure, it’s got the guitar and the flutes but it’s also got a sax riff, which is what made “Loading” so fun. Blanco himself is also a more charming presence than Cee and their two energies bounce off of each other pretty well, even if the most witty their punchlines get are just referencing Powerpuff Girls characters... and when they’re not basic, they’re borderline incoherent but whatever, this is a fun slice of misogyny and violence that you’d expect from the genre with at least some care put into it. Not bad at all.

#56 – “Bussdown” – Jorja Smith featuring Shaybo

Produced by Riccardo Damian, Jeff “Gitty” Gitelman and Kal Banx

This is the break-out single from the most recent “project” from Jorja Smith, going the Drake route of not bothering to name it an album, mixtape or EP, and this one features London rapper Shaybo in a track about materialism but not as much embracing it as becoming increasingly alienated by it as whilst wealth may bring you luxury and connections, it detaches you from reality, which is the point in Shaybo’s verses about being Miss Naive, someone who is increasingly aggressive as a result because, well, she always gets what she wants, right? This is not a project I listened to but the content is promising... until I actually hear the song, with its awkward, clattering percussion showered in overwhelming vocal mixing that fails in whatever intimacy it attempts to present, and that’s before the decidedly unsubtle air horns and guitar licks. The song is minimal enough for the content to kind of fall flat as well, as a song like this feels like it deserves more than a slick bass groove, rather some kind of maximalist yet subtlety eerie production. I’m thinking Shaybo would actually make more sense there than she would here as well as her awkward, pathetic-sounding flow is delivered in the most dead-pan cadence, so much so that it drifts off fully into background “vibe” music but even then, it feels too distracting in the mix to work as that. I did want to like this but it just ends up as a really disappointing track from Jorja Smith, once again.

#42 – “Seeing Green” – Nicki Minaj, Drake and Lil Wayne

Produced by GOVI and Kid Masterpiece

We’re half-way through our batch of new arrivals and what better way to celebrate than a posse cut by three rappers long past their prime by now without a chorus that pushes six minutes? Normally, that would be sarcastic, but in this case it is absolutely not as this is awesome. I love 2000s hip-hop and a chipmunk soul-inflected beat blended with early 2010s era proto-trap production is obviously going to appeal to me as that type of contrast is what I love about more lyrical hip-hop, hell, I wouldn’t have been surprised if it was said this was a Kanye beat or more accurately perhaps one by Harry Fraud. It helps that over that gorgeous soul sample we have all three rappers proving they still have it as performers, with some detailed verses from the classic Young Money crew that if nothing else provide a perfect nostalgia button for their era of dominance in hip-hop, not that it’s ever stopped since. I also just love hearing Lil Wayne hungry again, because I am a pretty big fan of his voice, delivery and even some of his wordplay and one-liners, all of which he expresses perfectly in his high-energy verse that switches through flaws as if it were all some off-the-top freestyle, and knowing Wayne, it might as well could have been. I love how he starts his verse off by shooting a guy and then saying it was his bad for doing it because he was a “good cat” and somehow it gets more off the rails afterwards, as he calls his girl a vacuum and says he’s peeing lean, before this self-proclaimed “badonkadonk bikini fiend” reminisces about his bisexual ex from Atlanta in a pretty clever use of repetition in rap. This is all with his sludged drawl of a delivery, which becomes especially important when he calls us all back to 2010 as when Wayne was in prison at his career peak, Drake always said “Free Weezy” and now 10 years later, Wayne’s saying “Free Drizzy” because Drake’s locked up in Canada because of the COVID-19 pandemic... because of course. I know it just seems like I’m itching out tiny little details in the verse but that’s what’s so great about repeated listens to detailed and great rap verses. That’s not to say Wayne is the only stand-out here either as Nicki Minaj impresses with that confident delivery she’s known for as she clarifies her beef with Cardi B being less about her “copying her homework” as it was about her up-hill battle with the industry, she recites how bitches are infamously her sons and delivers some pretty clever and quotable lines of her own, like “brand new Vanilla Maserati, I’ve been Haagen-Daszin’”... which again sounds like a bar straight out of 2010. I think the best verse here might actually be from Drake as much as I hate to say it, with bravado out of the gate that seems pretty deserved for someone with as immense success as he’s had. Not only is he referencing back to 2010 and even his Degrassi days, comparing it to the run-up to his upcoming album since he’s back on two crutches, but he’s also delivering some of his most interesting and quotable lines in years, and it all runs off so effortlessly and smoothly, but with a constant hunger and conviction reminding me of some of his deeper cuts like “Dreams Money Can Buy”. I won’t go further than I already have with this song – even though I could gladly quote practically the entirety of Drake’s verse, even when he aspires to be Vladimir Putin (I guess it’s better than accidentally comparing himself to Hitler) – but I’ve rambled on enough about this wonderful track. Triumphant lyrical rapping over soulful vocal loops will never be a thing I stop having a fondness for; these are some of my nostalgia biases creeping in – especially since these aren’t close to being the best verses any of the trio have delivered – but it’s so great hearing all three back on form together. Check this out if you haven’t as it’s absolutely a highlight off of the mixtape’s re-release.

#37 – “Build a Bitch” – Bella Poarch

Produced by Sub Urban and Elle Rizk

Bella Poarch is a name I had to search up and it turns out she is another one of these TikTok stars turned pop singers and all power to them for starting their career through such a useful and culturally important platform, honestly, and realistically, anyone regardless of their career background could make a song I enjoy, so there’s no use in dismissing them as a result, especially if I actually enjoy the concept of this song. The writing tends to be a bit childish as expected – again, more on that later – particularly when she sings lines like “Bob the Builder broke my heart and told me it needs fixing”, but the song’s theme of embracing young women for how they really are instead of Photoshopped, unrealistic beauty expectations is a message I like being expressed to her audience of teenage girls; I see it as necessary in the social media age. I do think that this message could be expressed with more tact than a Build-a-Bear parody but it never goes the slut-shaming route and is more critical of the men demanding or expecting perfection from their female partners, or on a wider scale the expectation for successful women to follow fashion and beauty trends, especially by men in their industries and fields. Poarch herself is a light-hearted vocalist kind of reminding me a bit too much of a self-serious Ashnikko but the melody in the chorus is infectious enough for me to ignore how void a personality she is. It’s harder however to ignore the stiff 808s that drown out clattering, awkward future-bass production and that drop just being really gross, kind of ruining the song in how it’s clearly a lean towards hyper-pop without fully drawing itself within that lane. Either way, this is fine, and at barely two minutes it struggles to find itself as a finished song let alone anything I can be offended by. This is remarkably okay, and that’s more than I expected.

#16 – “a m a r i” – J. Cole

Produced by T-Minus, J. Cole, Sucuki and Timbaland

These songs don’t even show up when you search them on Spotify and to be honest, I was hoping that would lead to limited success but of course, it didn’t. J. Cole’s latest album The Off-Season is yet another mediocre instalment in a dull catalogue full of rambling verses from a guy who thinks he has much more to say than he actually ends up saying, and it’s exhausting to listen let alone discuss the man’s art out of a sheer lack of personality or wit that follows his every move. His Dreamville label is filled to the brim with people more consistent, skilful and interesting than Cole has ever been so it’s just frustrating to see the label boss get all of the recognition. Regardless, I’ve never liked Cole as an artist – especially not a conscious one given the ableism, homophobia and tone-deaf exchange with Noname just last year – so I’m almost glad he’s stripped off half of the pretence of making a woke, important album. He’s just rapping on this record, which gives me the excuse to run through the rest of these consecutive bores from Cole as quickly as possible. First of all, we have “a m a r i”, a barely sufferable dud from the album scored by a blend of acoustic guitars and squelching trap percussion that fails to platform Cole’s Auto-Tuned moaning, oftentimes just aggravating and barely listenable, and sometimes disguising some pretty weak, topic-less verses for a man who claims to be focused. “Want smoke? I’m a whole nicotine company”  is not the silliest bar on the album, but I’m almost convinced the song ends as abruptly as it does because Timbaland’s embarrassed that he helped produce such an underwhelming beat and not even someone praised as a modern great can save it from being worthless.

#15 – “p r i d e . i s . t h e . d e v i l” – J. Cole and Lil Baby

Produced by T-Minus

One of my favourite hip-hop releases of last year was Aminé’s Limbo, a diverse selection of tracks that ranged from conscious hip-hop about his ambitions and fears about growing up and raising children in a modern world as well as typical trap-rap flexing and R&B crooners about girl problems. All of this is smoothly stirred into a pot of personality that actually attempts to bridge a gap between older and newer generations of rappers rather than just claiming to. “Can’t Decide” is not one of my favourite tracks from that record – “Compensating” with Young Thug executes its ideas just that little bit better for me – but it’s still a fun, R&B-adjacent tune with insanely catchy hooks about Aminé’s relationships. So why did we need a J. Cole remix? This guy sucks the fun out of beats like a vacuum in a bouncy castle, as he sloppily whines in an almost emo-rap cadence over a cheaper West Coast slide he just can’t convincingly sell. Lyrically, Cole focuses on the idea of pride and how it corrupts someone’s morals, criticising the flashing of money and social isolation from the family... both of which seem like Cole’s M.O. at this point, right? Success amidst independence? Platinum without features? This time around, there is a feature however from Lil Baby, who much like Cole claims to be focused in this very focused whilst pick-and-choosing between random trains of thought in his typical frog-throat delivery. Hey, at least Lil Baby flows with less strain and unwarranted, desperate effort that Cole does, and ends up out-shining the primary artist entirely, even if he’s going to “pay silly bands to have sex on the jet”. ..What?

#13 – “m y . l i f e” – J. Cole, 21 Savage and Morray

Produced by WU10, J. Cole and Jake One

The first lines of this song are “Spiralling up just like a rich person’s staircase; no fly zone, please stay out of my airspace”. Cole, I thought pride was the devil! I understand that one can still acknowledge the flaws in their worldview whilst embracing it and engaging themselves in it – that’s really a lot of the point of rags-to-riches rap – but some subtlety or at least some explanation from someone who wants you to see him as focused, woke, hungry and a master of his craft, would have been nice, right? This is Morray’s first charting hit in the UK and I’m glad he’s here as he’s basically what differentiates this from the duo’s prior collaboration “a lot”, a song that not only banged harder but felt smoother and Hell, just more coherent, especially with some soulful production that this new collaboration glaringly rips off. Morray’s biggest hit is “Quicksand” but his mixtape Street Sermons is full of soulful and honest trap-rap that I’d absolutely recommend for gospel flavour on the surface and the lyrical detail behind the bravado being extensive and confidently delivered, especially standing out on his own with no features to speak of. He has the chorus on here and I’m surprised DaBaby doesn’t have the second verse so this could be a North Carolina anthem but we do have 21 Savage, who delivers his typical brand of cold-hearted (or rather no-hearted), stoic paranoia bars but at least that’s a personality. 21 Savage delivers a slick flow over this sample and spits the pretty simple yet profound bar of “I pray that my past ain’t ahead of me”, leading to probably the most enjoyable verse on the whole album. If you couldn’t tell, the new guys outshine the old guard so obviously with so little effort it’s kind of impressive on Cole’s part even. I’m glad this is the biggest hit from this album so far as not only is this one of the best tracks out of a slim selection but it’s big for both 21 and especially Morray, who I’m really rooting for against, say, a Rod Wave or Kevin Gates in terms of southern rap with a lot more soul and grit. Oh, and Cole, “know it’s on sight when I see you like I’m working at Squarespace”? Really? Again, it’s not the dumbest bar on the album.

#2 – “good 4 u” – Olivia Rodrigo

Produced by Alexander 23 and Dan Nigro

It’s pretty fitting to book-end a batch of new arrivals mostly consisting of hardcore gritty trap with two up-beat alternative rock tracks, and I’ll say I prefer this to Lovejoy mostly because, well, like I said with “Seeing Green”, my biases will always be on full and honest display, and as someone who’s a sucker for pop-punk of all eras, especially if it’s a female-fronted band with some youthful, raspy vocals, this will obviously hit for me. Throughout Sour, I found it hard to buy into the teenage melodrama due to Dan Nigro’s production often sounding too clean for its own sake, never allowing the guitars to really crash into some lo-fi, distorted noise like they seem to want to do on tracks like this, “deja vu” and especially the opener, “traitor”. Sadly, that cuts the chances of radio airplay by a ton more than it should, so we end up with mixing that slides off Rodrigo’s reverb-drenched vocals too smoothly, creating a rather formulaic album, unfortunate for its sheer excess of promise. With that said, this is one of my favourite tracks off of the album, if only for that funky bassline and some of Nigro’s most interesting stylistic and production choices, particularly in the drumming, which sounds as organic as possible for something that was programmed by him and Alexander 23. The sarcasm-laced post-break-up kiss-off is already not unfamiliar territory for Olivia Rodrigo and neither was it for Avril Lavigne, which this track tends to sound almost like an imitation of, down to the inconsistently PG-13 image as “screw you” is delivered with as much conviction as the actual F-bomb in the same verse. Regardless of how much it wants to consistently kill its own momentum, this janky songwriting actually reminds me of early Paramore, much of which holds a special place in my heart, so whilst Hayley Williams has been off doing her solo work – and Paramore seem to have moved on from this kind of bitter, petty pop rock anyway – this quenches that thirst pretty effectively.

Conclusion

Olivia Rodrigo bags the Honourable Mention for “good 4 u” as well as it’s one of two songs debuting this week I think are pretty damn special, the other one being “Seeing Green” by Nicki Minaj, Lil Wayne and Drake as it grabs Best of the Week. For the worst, I mean, pick your J. Cole-flavoured poison but personally I’d say “a m a r i” can be crowned Worst of the Week with a Dishonourable Mention to... great, I don’t want to seem like I hate J. Cole but nothing else here is even as bad as his Lil Baby collaboration “p r i d e . i s . t h e . d e v i l”. Here’s this week’s top 10:

Expect two more of those spaces filled up by Olivia Rodrigo next week as whilst we may not get any new entries from her the album will have an impact regardless on the chart. Otherwise, I guess we’ll have to wait and see with how a Queen-sampling BTS song wrecks the chart – probably will give both Olivia and “Body” some #1 competition – as well as new songs from Little Mix, Lana Del Rey, Polo G and Lil Nas X popping up not too far behind it. It should be just as busy next week, folks, so strap in, I suppose. Thanks for reading and I’ll see you then!

[puppys-rhythm-heaven]

what i want from a new game

so while my preference would be a collection of all the games (hopefully with added content, which would probably mainly be consistency edits like giving all tengoku games practices) and these points are with that in mind, i am aware that that sadly probably won’t happen. sucks but oh well.

anyways, here’s what i’d want from a new game when they eventually make one nintendo please-

the option to change languages in all the games: one of the best features in megamix is the ability to change the audio language. it means you don’t have to suffer through “and pose” and “lessitdown” (it still doesn’t sound like they’re saying “let’s sit down” no matter what audio you use) and also means that you can hear tokimeki no story’s lyrics even if you have megamix and not best plus. so i really want this to be in all the games if they make a collection, and in whatever game they make if it’s not a collection. if they make a collection, then tengoku especially needs this just because of space dance and marching orders and whatever they’re going to end up doing to toss boys dear god i’m scared for that if they do make a game collection/remake tengoku-

added features: again, if it’s a collection, then i’d like to have things be added instead of them literally just being ports. a remix with all the games would be really cool (as much as i hate charging chicken (as someone who plays on citra and played it with buttons because i forgot which endless game was next), it should have remix privileges, did they forget about it???). adding manzai to fever would also be cool, even if it was exclusive to japanese audio. giving every game at least some lore in some shape, way or form would be nice also because there are lots of games that don’t get any (esp in fever; tambourine, donk-donk and shrimp shuffle have literally no lore because of that give them lore privileges,,, though i mean,,, maybe not,,, idk what lore you could give donk-donk-). oh and maybe have perfect rewards for games with lyrics be,,, the song,,, and not just the song lyrics,,, like yeah you can listen to them on youtube but,,, still? that way i can listen to the in-game version of honey sweet angel of love- oh yeah that reminds me.

dubbing for japanese exclusive songs: oh my god nintendo please. p l e a s e . actually dub bon odori, honey sweet angel of love and wish - can’t wait for you. please don’t just make them trumpet. give them actual translations. please. dub tokimeki no story and machine remix’s songs while you’re at it maybe? please??? i would like to know what they are saying, thank you very much- so i can actually sing it correctly instead of just being like “tOKIMEKI NO STORY- U H SOMETHING NO SHOJO-” and shit. that’s probably not even the right romanization for it sfklsfjl-

,,, basically i just want them to not ruin tengoku-

[meetmeatthecoda]

Waking: Part 3 - Wondering

Okay, y’all, here’s the last installment in the Red angst fest! It’s to do with Red’s actions in the later months of Lizzie’s coma, a few months before she wakes up. This one is important to me but I did struggle with it a little (maybe something to do with the fact that it’s 4am but whatever I mean who cares) so I’m just hoping it can hold it’s own as a fic but it also fit vaguely with the others? Idk, just hoping you guys can enjoy it. I got to let out my reading nerd and actually put my soon-to-be acquired music degree to good use. I fit a lot of dialogue in here (all Red, of course) so I’m hoping it flows well and still stays in character. So the usual stuff, I guess. Anyhoo, I really hope you guys like this 3 part angst parade cause I certainly enjoyed writing it. I’ve loved seeing all your comments and I’m sorry I made some of you cry. :) These two crazy kids are just so tragic, I can’t. :’) Anyway, I should wrap it up here so, per usual, this is also on my FF.net and AO3 accounts. The song for this was “All I Want” by Dawn Golden. Please let me know what you think about this final part of the series! I love your feedback! :) Now that this is completed, I get to start on that fic I posted about last week where Liz is suffering from apraxia and Red is caring for her. Super pumped for that :D So yeah, enjoy peeps! :) Much love! <3

Red wonders if Lizzie can hear him.

He read somewhere that people in comas may be aware of their surroundings. He hopes that’s true. He can’t handle thinking of Lizzie just sleeping for the past seven months, lying there in absolute darkness and silence. The thought just…wrecks him.

So, he tries to provide a stimulating auditory environment for her. He talks to her constantly. It starts as just mundane things like the weather and the color of the paint on the walls in her hospital room. But then he looks at Lizzie’s sleeping face and he can almost hear her scoffing and rolling her eyes.

“Really, Red? I’m stuck in a hospital bed recovering from brain surgery and you think I want to hear about the weather? You can do better than that, come on!”

(The minute he starts imagining Lizzie’s responses to what he says is the minute he starts being genuinely concerned for his sanity. Ah well. He supposes if he’s going to hear a voice in his head, it might as well be Lizzie.)

So, he starts talking to Lizzie, really talking, telling her anything that comes to mind. He tells her about the new coffee creamer he tried this morning, describing the taste and texture with an amount of detail she probably wouldn’t have been able to stand ordinarily but he’d rather be too descriptive than not enough.

He’s living for the both of them now.

When he’s describing the foods he’s eaten and the flavors he loves (“I was initially quite skeptical of calamari, Lizzie, I won’t pretend otherwise, but it was surprisingly pleasant, I must admit.”), the bizarre dishes he describes leads him to telling her about all the places he’s visited.

He knows Lizzie has always wanted to travel and since he’s painfully aware she can’t go anywhere at present, he settles for telling her everything he can think of, from the consistency of the snow in Vienna and the color of the ocean in Haiti.

“I can’t wait until you wake up, Lizzie, and then I can take you whenever you want to go. You’ll like someplace tropical, I know you will, but you should really give Iceland a shot, it is unbelievably beautiful…”

He tries not to get too personal with his ramblings, tries not to share anything that she would have been uncomfortable hearing if she were awake, (like the fact that he’d love to take her to Antarctica and lay with her in the snow and moonlight and see the northern lights reflected in her blue eyes), but it’s quite hard to resist telling her things he’s always wanted to tell her when he knows she won’t sigh exasperatedly and walk away.

(All he wants is to tell her how much he loves her while she’s awake to hear it. It never occurred to him that someday that would be impossible.)

Telling her about the places he’s been reminds Red of the people he’s met and the ridiculous situations he so often seems to find himself in, stories that normally she would be reluctantly amused by. He misses telling her these things over morning coffee or during a car ride, observing her closely, watching as she stifles a grin, pretending not to like his fantastical tales.

He wishes he could see that again.

“…and it was quite a stench, Lizzie, let me tell you, camels are not to be trifled with. And that Bedouin trader could have warned me but I truly don’t think he’s ever forgiven me for the way I insulted his wife. But it was completely unintentional, Lizzie, believe me…”

When Red runs out of stories of his own to tell, he turns to books. Lizzie never seemed to have enough time to read so he makes it his goal to expand her literary world.

(If she can’t venture out into the world, he’ll do his damnedest to bring the world to her.)

He starts with things he knows she’ll like, things Dembe found on her bookshelf when packing up her apartment. He slogs through her silly romances and crime novels, playfully berating her for her lack of variety.

“…and clearly it was the tax collector who murdered the grocer, Lizzie, it’s obvious. Some detective this hero is, really, he’s just pathetic. I mean, I know we’re only on page seventeen but I’m quite sure of myself. At any rate, we’ll see if I’m right in the end…”

They make good progress, usually several chapters in a day, and Red soon makes it through Lizzie’s scant collection. He moves on to things he thinks she’ll like based on her collection. He starts with Jane Austen.

“I have a feeling you’ll like this, Lizzie. Much better than those trashy paper backs you seem to consider ‘romance’. This is sophisticated love, you see. Much more entertaining. Mr. Darcy can be a bit tiresome but I think you’ll like the heroine…”

He tries to stick to her preferred genres but he also occasionally picks an outlier, something he knows she wouldn’t have picked off a shelf for herself.

His biggest gamble was the Lord of the Rings. He’s not sure Lizzie would like them but he so enjoys reading the rich descriptions of such a fantastical land out loud, savoring them, trying to create a vivid mental picture for Lizzie.

It takes him a month and a half to get through them all. He saves them for dreary days when he can hear the rain pitter-pattering on the roof and the light is dim all day and it feels like he and Lizzie are the only two people in the world.

He wonders if she can hear him.

After months of talking and reading, Red starts to think that perhaps Lizzie would like to hear something other than just his voice. So, he asks Dembe to fetch his record player and collection from his Bethesda apartment.

Dembe had raised his eyebrows in question at that. It was a general rule that Red’s Bethesda things stayed in Bethesda, no exceptions. But Red took one look at Lizzie’s soft, pale eyelids, closed and still, and urged Dembe on.

This is all she has.

Red starts to alternate days of reading with days of listening, though he still makes a point to narrate everything they listen to. He tries to vary the selections, changing the genres depending on the weather and his mood, trying to guess what Lizzie would pick.

He wishes he could ask her.

For the first week or so, he opts for jazz.

“This is Dizzy Gillespie on trumpet, Lizzie, he was really something. A legend in the world of jazz, so talented. Did you know that someone knocked over his trumpet and bent the bell? Instead of getting it fixed, he decided he liked the way it sounded and kept it, bent to hell. Can you imagine?”

He buys a special record of “Symphonie Fantastique” just for Lizzie. They spend a whole afternoon listening to all five movements, the sound so crystal clear it’s as if the orchestra is in the room with them.

“This was composed by Hector Berlioz, Lizzie. Interesting man. The poor thing was wildly in love with an actress, obsessed with her. Completely harmless, of course, but still she wanted nothing to do with him. That’s what the symphony is based on, you know. The protagonist is so desperately in love with the woman of his dreams but his feelings go unrequited so he takes opium to drown his sorrows. You’d probably say that’s a little melodramatic of him but…” he reaches up and gently brushes a lock of hair behind Lizzie’s ear. “…I’m not so sure. I think I rather understand him.”

On sunny days, Red plays 80s hits by Billy Joel and Pink Floyd from his iPod, sometimes singing quietly along, his rumbling bass filling the room pleasantly. He imagines that Lizzie has a beautiful singing voice.

He wishes he could hear her.

Red spends months with Lizzie like this, talking, reading, singing, never silent. He never wants her to feel as though she’s alone in the dark. He is here, with her, always. He hopes she knows that. He wishes he could ask if it helps, his constant noise, so desperate to keep her company.

(Or perhaps it is him that needs to feel less alone. He’s not sure anymore.)

And in the dark of night, sitting at her bedside clutching her hand, he tells her things, things he only feels safe telling her when it’s just the two of them, her asleep, him awake, always awake and waiting.

In the dark, he pleads with her.

“Lizzie…Lizzie, please come back. I miss you so much. You’ve been gone so long and…you must come back. We’ve gone through a lot of books and records over the past nine months…I’d love to hear your opinions on Tolkien and Berlioz. Wake up and tell me what long-winded saps they are. Tell me you miss me…Lizzie, tell me you love me. Because I love you, sweetheart. So much. I’m sure you know that by now. So, please wake up so I can tell you in person. I miss you. I miss you, Lizzie…please…come back to me…”

He wonders if Lizzie can hear him.

He wonders if he wants her to.

[wiener-soldiers]

can’t help falling in love - peter parker

request: I was wondering if you could write a peter parker x reader and have the reader being able to play the Ukulele? And maybe have peter not know she plays and he catching he playing/singing? Lots of Fluff? I hope you notice this! Ps love your writing sweetheart💚 (requested by @nevaehsuga)

summary: As an avid music lover, the ukulele was just another instrument you had learned to play. However when Peter catches you playing, he can’t help but be amazed.

pairing: Peter Parker x Fem!Reader

words: 1,522

warnings: major fluff like i was squealing while i was writing

a/n: first request guys! this was super fun to write, so i hope y’all enjoy. i’m working on a part 2 to Forgiveness in Time, so that’ll be up tomorrow. remember that requests are open and im honestly so happy when i get them! ALSO ITALICS ARE FLASHBACKS!

There were three constants in you life; your love for your family, space, and music.

Growing up, the relationship between you, your parents, and your sibling was tight. No matter the situation, the love shared between yourselves was constant.

Space was also consistent. To anyone else, space is just something out of their reach; a beautiful sight to behold, but no one bothers to look because they are busy sleeping. Not you, though. Although space had always fascinated you (let's be real; NASA was the goal), space was just a way to show that there was so much you didn't know, and that you curiosity was always overpowering.

Music, however, was not an art. To you, it was a religion. From as long as you could remember, music had been incorporated into your life. In the fourth grade, you joined an Honours Choir, signing in competitions all across New York City. In the seventh grade, you joined the middle school band. You picked up the clarinet and played well enough to have been invited to join the New York City Honour Band less than a year after you started to play.

Your love only blossomed from there. When you became old enough to discover Broadway, you immediately fell in love. You bought countless cast albums, and still cry every time you listen to Hamilton. As soon as you started high school, you were auditioning in the school's production of The Hunchback of Notre Dame. Along the way, you mastered the piano, you taught yourself the guitar, and even learning some trumpet.

But the small, charming instrument called the ukulele captured your heart.

In middle school, you were definitely the 'always-on-Tumblr-oh-my-god-Tyler-Joseph-is-my-dad' kid, and after hearing House of Gold by Twenty One Pilots for the first time, you instantly fell in love with the charming stringed instrument, later running to your favourite music store and buying yourself a ukulele.

You picked up the ukulele very quickly after already knowing how to play guitar, and every extra second you had to spare was strumming that instrument.

Which was where you found yourself that Saturday afternoon. Instead of studying for your biology exam, you found yourself distracted and desperately craving the sound of the ukulele. So, you pushed your textbooks aside and grabbed your ukulele, strumming a few chords.

Before you know it, you find yourself strumming the chords to We Don't Believe What's On TV by Twenty One Pilots.

The song was special to you, solely because it reminded you of your best friend, Peter Parker.

You had met him after school during rehearsal night. You were starring as Esmeralda in the Hunchback and slipped out of the auditorium to grab some water while the ensemble was learning some choreography. As you stepped away from the water fountain, you noticed a blur of someone wearing red and blue skin tight material run past you and up the stairs. Curiously, you had followed him.

The staircase lead to an empty hall, aside from Peter Parker standing at his locker, attempting to stuff something inside it.

"Peter?" you call out, "Peter Parker?"

You watched as his head whips around. "Yeah? That's me. Uh--(Y/N)?"

You walk closer to him. The closer you got, the more nervous he seemed.

"What are you doing here this late?" you question.

Peter scratches the back of his neck. "I could ask you the same question."

"I'm at rehearsal. We're doing The Hunchback this year, remember?"

"Oh," was his only response, forgetting to answer your question completely.

You put a hand on your hip and continue, "Say, did you see someone run up here? Clad in red and blue spandex?"

He stutters out a, "No."

"So then what are you doing at your locker?"

"Getting some books I forgot, I told you."

"No, you didn't."

"Didn't what?"

You roll your eyes, getting impatient. Finally deciding that enough was enough, you grabbed the handle to his unlocked locker. Despite Peter's pleas, you yank it open to find the Spiderman suit hung on the coat hook.

"You're Spiderman," you say in disbelief.

"You can't tell anyone."

So you didn't. You and Peter came up with a deal. Peter was in the same Biology class as you were, and as much as you hated to admit it, you needed a tutor. So in exchange for keeping your secret, Peter helped you not only pass, but ace the midterms.

As the months went by, your 'business deal' turned into a friendship, and on your part, love.

You got to the chorus of the song and began to sing.

“I need to know that when I fail you'll still be here,

'Cause if you stick around I'll sing you pretty sounds,

And we'll make money selling your hair.

I don't care what's in your hair,

I just wanna know what's on your mind,

I used to say, ‘I wanna die before I'm old,’

But because of you I might think twice.”

You continue to strum and finish the song with some occasional singing and humming. As you strum the last chord, a slow clapping comes from the fire escape outside your window.

There you find Peter clad in his Spiderman suit, mask off, sitting on  your windowsill.

A blush comes up your cheeks as you stand up to close the door and pull him inside your room.

"Pete! What are you doing here? Someone coulda seen you!" you scold him, but your insides were screaming in joy that Peter decided to stop by.

He laughs and slings the backpack he was wearing off his shoulders, gesturing for you to turn around so he can get changed. You quickly spin against your heel, but you manage to sneak a glance at Peter's insanely sculpted back muscles before he slipped on a shirt.

You finally become aware that he had finished changing as you heard the squeak in your mattress as Peter sits down. "I didn't know you could play," he says while inspecting the ukulele laying on top of your comforter.

You sit next to him and smile a little, "I picked it up a couple weeks ago. I haven't really shown anyone. Well, until you showed up."

He laughs and nudges your shoulder before replying, "Well, I'm glad I did because you are absolutely breathtaking."

You stare at him and smile, "Thanks, Pete."

He smiles back and look back at the ukulele, turning it in his hands. He plucks each string one by one, before strumming all four together. He turns to look at you again.

"Teach me?" he asks, looking at you hopefully.

You nod in return and move your hand above his, moving his fingers above certain strings to form a chord.

"Now strum," you instruct.

With his opposite hand, his fingers gracefully strum the strings. The beautiful sound reverberated in your ears.

"I did it!" he says excitedly, with the biggest smile on his face.

You let out a giggle at how cute he was, "Yes you did, you big dork. Now, shut up so I can teach you a song."

After a couple of minutes, he learns the rest of the chords. And in less than an hour, he plays the song almost flawlessly.

You watch him with a smile as he stands up on your bed to do a celebratory dance, ukulele still in his hands.

"Peter!" you manage to say in between your fits of laughter, "come down before you break yourself, or my ukulele!"

He laughs at you, but sits back down beside you nevertheless. You had retreated to the floor, using the bed as a back rest in fear that Peter was going to jump on you.

After the laughter dies, he places the ukulele in front of you and turns to you.

"What song did you teach me anyways? You never told me."

"Oh!" you say with a surprised tone, "it was I Can't Help Falling in Love with You."

"Good," Peter says with a slight smirk on his face.

"What?" you ask, utterly confused.

Peter smiles and shakes his head. "Well," he starts, "it's good to know that the girl you fell in love with can't help falling in love with you, too."

Your mouth drops in shock, trying to process what just happened.

Deciding that it didn't matter you quickly uttered, "Peter Parker, you are the smoothest dork I know," before pressing your lips to his.

He makes a noise in response before responding. His arms find their way to your back, pulling you closer to his honey tasting lips, and your hands find themselves wrapped around his neck, playing with his hair. He begins to lean closer, but accidentally ends up kicking your ukulele in the process, a sour sounding chord playing quietly. You both pull away in laughter.

"I'll make you deal. You keep teaching me how to play, and you'll do me the greatest honour in letting me be your boyfriend," Peter says as he tucks a stand of (Y/H/C) hair behind your ears.

You smile and pull him in for another kiss. You whisper back in adoration, "It's a deal."

[sometipsygnostalgic]

Hiveswap Act 1 OST Review

Ok, I’ve been listening to it for some time. I should really review the OST! 

I’m a musical ameteur so this is a bad idea. Hope you enjoy it! 

1. Definitely Safe Forever -  good. 3 out of 5. nothing else to say on the matter

2. Snake Escape - great. very funky, nice bass tones. iconic hiveswap tone... 4 out of 5.

3. Joey Claire, Extraordinaire - Nice slow buildup, gentle theme. Feels welcoming and safe, yet a bit more curious than your average Pokemon hometown theme. The wind instrument gets extremely loud at times, maybe too loud. But this track is so different from what Homestuck usually offers that it paints a new identity for Hiveswap. It’s repetitive enough to not distract you, but interesting enough to not bore you. I like how it gets a bit more mellow and bittersweet over time, which is something you can say for a lot of tracks. 4/5.

4. Half-Harley Manor - I have always liked  the leitmotif for this house. It’s... not quite spooky, but not warm and welcoming either. I love how this track starts loud and spooky, then you have quiet percussion, then it gets back to the original theme with a bit more windiness... very satsifying. Then the part where it gets VERY sparkly and happy. Idk what intrument that is. Keyboard? It’s the only part of the song that makes this feel like home, ut then it loops back into the original alienating theme. 4 out of 5..... 

5. Relatively Visible Darkness - I don’t like the trumpets in this much but I enjoy everything else about this theme. Serves its job. Relatively unspectacular... until the chorus in the second half,  then it gets great. for a little bit. 3 out of 5.

6. Bedroom for an Annoying Dog - Love the final fantasy joke. Love how scary they made the fucking basement sound. Love how this builds up with the, uhh, organ pipes? 5 out of 5.

7. That’s How I Beat Snake - hmmm... Very nice intro but the main theme is a bit shit, until it hits the chorus, then it gets catchy. Its soundfont is... odd. I think it serves well as a fight theme but is the weakest battle music in the game. I do like the drop at the second part a lot! 3 out of 5. or 6 out of 10. yes. lets start doing them out of 10 from now on because fuck consistency.  

8. Jude Harley, Bizarrely - Nice character theme but terrible music. I think that’s the intention. You do however lose points for it being a remix of Joey’s theme and Harleyhouse Manor because it means the only sort of leitmotif Jude has is how fucking bad his music is . 6 out of 10 get this CANMT shit out of here.

9. Table for Tooth - NICE INTRO! This was used in the trailer, right? I love the initial drop. The main theme’s instrument is... garbage, yes. But then it plays the Harleyhouse theme and it’s SO GOOD.  Wish that part was longer. 7 out of 10. 

10. Final Spice - if you think this sounds like an Undertale track it’s cos this one had the least touching up by James. It reminds me of Toriel’s theme. Nice and catchy but not quite good enough for me to enjoy. 7 out of 10. 

11. Living Legend - The final and best battle theme on tis track. Another Final Fantasy joke. I love this theme and what James and Toby did with it. 9 out of 10.... not quite the best track on the album, but very close. 

12. Singular Peril - nice and perilous. Also nice coming off of the Final Fantasy track cos this reminds me  of when you escape the nuclear plant in FF7. 8 out of 10. Would work better if it wasnt heard for just 3 seconds.

13. A More Defensible Position  - I, think this is the tied second-best track on the album because of its second part. So magical, so ominous. You feel shit building up here.  9 out of 10. 

14. Open the Door - Majestic buildup, dark, intense, spooky......... then it becomes nothing shot of an anticlimax. It needs to be LOUDER on the piano part! Then it could have been the best track easily! 7 out of 10. 

15. Keep Your Head Down - I’m annoyed at how far forward this track is cos you only hear it after Xefros gets flattened. I love it though, very 80s, fitting remix of Xefros’s theme to represent the path he and Joey have ahead of them. 1980 out of 2000.

16. Oh Whoah, What’s This - The theme’s fine. A nice intro to Dammek’s hive, gentle and empty after the dramatic teleportation. The name however is unacceptable. 0 out of 10. 

17. Some Kind Of Alien - WHOAHHHH the transition between these two themes is nuts. I love how LOUD this track is! I love the waltzy beat, the flute, how it represents Dammek’s conspiring nature. It gets much more cheerful as it goes on,perhaps indicating this boy isn’t entirely a weird jerk.  And it ends on Karkat! 8 out of 10. Probably deserves a 9. 

18. Rustblood - When people play through this game, this tune really catches them. And I enjoy it, because this is the part of the game that starts feeling like homestuck, yknow? Anyway Xefros has by far the most distinguished theme out of any of his mates. This is very Toby Fox. Very solid 7 out of 10. 

19. Filthy Nuclear Bunker - you know how HYPE this track is? You just want to click on everything and read all the text, because it has hit you that you’re playing the HOMESTUCK VIDEOGAME  and youre REALLY ENJOYING IT. 9 out of 10 for the variety of instruments, the upbeat mood. Despite the weird soundfont. I’m feeling generous. This music is relatively long though, compared to the others. It should end before I change my mind.

20. SPORTS! Personally I Love Them - this is the third time ive listened to this track today. 7.8 out of 10 too much Superbowl. Liked the Dark Souls reference in this room. I wish the music that played during the puzzle was in this OST.

21. Lofted Gunpile - A more “meh” version of Dammek’s theme. I prefer what they eventually went with. Why did James want it to be so.... low? Same complaint as the anticlimactic portal theme. Do like when the instruments start blending together near the end. 6 out of 10. 

22. Serpent Genesis Better, original version of the snake fight with better soundfont. 8 out of 10. 

23. We Shall Go Together - Beautiful ending to the game. Nothing spectacular about it though. 6 out of 10. 

24. Wish You Were Here - Our first taste of Trizza’s theme and by jegus it’s amazing. Very little can make you more hyped for act 2 than an intimidating introduction to the antagonist, a selfie over a burning village. WHOAHHH its actually playing now and I like it even more. That DROP. 9 out of 10 easily. 

25. Intermission 1 - Welcome to the best track on the fucking album. I think the credits should always be the best. Starts off with continuing Trizza’s theme, letting us absorb what we just witnessed, as drawings of the game we just played appear. Then you get hints of the theme from Dammek’s hive. Quieter during this part.... funkier again... THEN IT GETS REALLY INTENSE.  That’s easily my favourite part. Anyway, 10 out of 10. This track alone has me ready to wait for act 2. 

26. Alternate Recipe - 8bit mix of the spice theme. Louder, which is good. 7.5 out of 10. Catchy.

27. Heavy Snaking - I... prefer the original snake theme in the context of a fight. This is ok to listen to by itself though. Oh gosh that bass! 8 out of 10 great music, wrong atmosphere for the extremely brief battle. This’d be great as a boss encounter theme though. If it was used in the right place, then it’d possibly score even a 9 or 10.

28. “How It Could Have Gone” - seems to be about the portal? A ot louder than what they went with. I wouldnt have minded this being merged with the actual theme, but I still think it could be better. 7 out of 10.I love the spookiness of the original and would be sad if that was gone.

29. Old steps - Dance, Joey, Dance! Not really a song. 

30. UNDERTALE. 10/10. Sincerely. I love it. 

Total musical rating -  8 out of 10. Does its job very well of being good but not distracting. Good background music, rather than the energetic music of Homestuck itself.

[eternaleve]

So, if you’ve had a look at my update post, I’ve not been doing much of anything lately. I’m house-bound currently because my health has been absolutely terrible as of late. My life’s on hold yet again which is very annoying because I’ve felt like it’s been on hold since university. That’s four years ago now where my luck has been terrible. Maybe’s it’s Anita Blake cursing me.

Anyway, if you know me, you’ll know that history is my thing. In fact, it’s Tudor history. I specialised in the politics of the Henrican court and I like to sharpen my brain box from time to time.

And this little show is currently up in its entirety on Netflix.

  It’s rated an 8.1 on imDB and was nominated for Golden Globe awards. It was presented as being an intimate sort of revelation of the great secrets of Henry VIII’s court, the great men and great women of his life.

And this show makes me rage as only a historian can rage. This show is a burning bag of garbage that makes me incredibly angry. Not only in terms of really bad writing choices but really terrible clothing. And that there are people who made genuine efforts to try and make this accurate and include incredibly minor details of court – only for it to be absolute rubbish.

And I’m here to pour water on this burning bag of garbage. Or another, better metaphor.

Let’s throw ourselves into ‘In Cold Blood’. Our official synopsis is ‘King Henry VIII, the young and ambitious monarch of England, prepares for war with France but is dissuaded by the diplomatic manipulation of his powerful Lord Chancellor, Cardinal Wolsey, who proposes that the King sponsor a “Treaty of Universal Peace.” The harmony of the King’s domestic affairs is threatened, however, when he discovers that Elizabeth Blount, the young and beautiful lady-in-waiting to his Queen, Katherine of Aragon, is pregnant with his child.’

That’s a lot of information for one episode and it really rattles through the stuff that people all commonly associate with the Tudors. It is also really badly written. Let’s begin.

A Nonsense Beginning

The episode doesn’t really start off too well. We’re heading straight to an Italian palace (even though ‘Italy’ as a specific location did not exist in the sixteenth century) and this is not a sixteenth century palace. This is really not. This is neo-classical in the most blatant style.

This is a sixteenth century Italian palace. Much more ornate and decorative.

Sean Pertwee gets out of a carriage and his costume is wrong in so many ways. English fashion in the sixteenth century is known for its many layers, the wide silhouette, and the use of slashing to display fabrics. Sean Pertwee’s style is very reminiscent of gentlemen at the court of Elizabeth I; slim and narrow, a style that has become highly feminised. These are not the clothes of a man from the later half of the sixteenth century, not from the beginning.

The men he’s travelling to meet are much more appropriately dressed – highly decorated doublets with long overgowns. Plus hats. You’d never be out in public without a hat at this point in time. And hello baby Aiden Turner. You’re going to be in one of my favourite TV shows of all time, and then be in Poldark with its really awful rape scene. Ups and downs there.

Anyway, Sean Pertwee gets brutally taken out by the French.

This confuses me greatly. It makes for an incredibly dramatic opening, that’s for sure, and sets up that England hates the French and that is mutual. There’s animosity between the two countries which is only news if you are not European. However, early modern politics was not a brutal affair. Well, all the time. There was that time that the Dutch cannibalised someone and people were thrown out of windows in Prague, but an English ambassador would not be stabbed to death by the French in public this way. It would be incredibly stupid because it would only cause war.

This also throws up many questions to me in terms of history. When is this meant to be set? There were varying times of war and peace between England and France, and a specific year is never given in this episode. This episode swings between 1514 and 1520, and six years is a long time in politics.

And there’s the issue that Sean Pertwee is supposed to be Henry VIII’s uncle.

Right. Okay. There’s a writing choice I can simply not get my head around. Henry VIII didn’t have any uncles, and giving him one doesn’t inform his fictional character or explain what happens. It makes no logical sense – his father was an only child and if Henry VIII’s mother had surviving brothers… then they would be king. Because her father, Edward IV would have passed the throne to them.

The Poor Choices of Henry VIII

The big selling point of this show was that it’s YOUNG Henry VIII. It’s Henry as you’ve never seen him before! He’s young, he’s sexy, he’s active, and not fat and gross. In pursuit of this, the writers made a huge mistake. They made him brash, rude, and frankly abusive to Katherine. He’s a slobbering mess in this first episode, and his characterisation is all over the place.

And his clothing is fucking terrible.

Our first introduction to Henry is that he’s dressed like an acrobat. There is nothing right with his clothing. Compare him to this image of a English man from the early part of the sixteenth century (it’s later than VAGUE 1514 TO 1520 VAGUE YEAR but at least it’s English).

English fashion is bulky and layered. There’s no way Henry would not have an overgown and his clothes are just too slim. And that crown looks like ass.

I like that Henry has the most Catholic underclothes it is possible to get. I don’t like the metallic popper buttons. Buttons were not especially widespread in clothing, with most items being tied or fitted to the body. Henry VIII did not have child-friendly popper boxer shorts with Catholic detailing.

Henry is wearing only the most fashionable in cheap and common leathers! This looks like foot soldier armour. It is not anything a nobleman in Tudor England would wear. Also Katherine’s dress is terrible, but I’ll be going into the women’s fashion in a bit.

Henry VIII is FLORAL SOFA MAN!

Who doesn’t want to do physical exercise in a full suit of leather?

Love that fisherman jumper, Henners.

Throughout this episode, Jonathan Rhys Meyer makes just the weirdest choices for his performance. Ignoring the fact that he is blatantly wrong for this role, he just does weird stuff. He’s loud and obnoxious and plays Henry as a complete idiot. And the episode ends on this image. Just Henry, his pathetic little beard, staring madly at you. Thanks, director. I needed that.

A Decorated Skirt Does Not A Period Costume Make.

I get it. Tudor women’s fashion does not appear sexy to modern audiences. You have to balance out the ‘sexy’ lead and make the women appear sexy. They do this by making the worst attempt at Tudor costumes for women I’ve ever seen.

The first female character we see is in The Corridor (c) that we see consistently over the first season. They show the vast wealth and grandness of the palace of White Hall with the same terrible brick background over and over.

For a start, her waist is too high. English fashions are conical at this time, with hemlines square and farthingales round like an ice cream cone. Her hair is also loose under what appears to be a piece of lace.

‘I have a necklace in my hair for no apparent reason. Also my hair is loose, which no grown woman at the English court would ever have. Because my hair would be really fucking long and I don’t want lice.’

Katherine of Aragon, an incredibly proud and proper queen, is just lazing around with her hair loose and a nightgown. For the record, here’s Katherine at this time –

Gable hoods and trumpet sleeves. They may not be sexy but they were at the time.

I don’t know I don’t even. This screams 17th Dutch more than anything else with the huge white collar and huge great big stomacher. This is especially egregious as this is Thomas More’s wife and there’s an incredibly famous portrait of her. She should have a hood on, great big trumpet sleeves, and no huge white weird collar that is attached to her dress and not the shirt underneath which appears to also be a dress.

This dress has some huge great big puffy sleeves are are hideous. They also don’t come into English fashion for another fifteen years. The attempt at a French hood is also… weird. For a start, they’re not around at the English court from this point for about ten or so years (depending on whatever vague year this is), and what the hell? What is with all this loose hair? She’s got beautiful flowing locks that do not work with a French hood.

That’s how a French hood works. Your hair is covered because all women pretty much had their hair covered in public at this point in time and you don’t want nits. Long loose flowing hair? THAT’S HOW YOU GET NITS.

I don’t even with this. Not only is her dress terrible, with an overgown that wouldn’t be introduced to the 1550s, but what is even with that headdress? What is it meant to be? You can’t just glue fake pearls to something and call it a headdress.

So, left dress: fine, I guess, as a common gown for when you’re at home not seeing anyone. I don’t like the bustle thing at the back. It could be a bumroll, but her skirtline would be much higher and if you’re relaxed at home without a farthingale, why would you have a bumroll?

Right dress; whaaaaaattttt. That’s very Italian. The lose, low sleeves are continental and the bust line, shoulders, and curled hair make me think of Stuart/Restoration fashion, not 1510s/1520s. And that’s not even getting into whatever the bodice is. It’s a bodice for a dress, not a front-opening bra.

Everyone’s Evil Henny

Fashion aside, the point of this episode is that Henry is stupid and everyone around him is evil. No matter where he goes, from fucking (there are far more sex scenes in this episode than necessary), to playing tennis, or to the daily joust, there is someone being evil and making use of how lazy and stupid Henry is to get across their evil doing. FYI, Henry VIII was an incredibly intelligent and busy man. He did not just spend his time at the apparently daily joust.

The Duke of Buckingham is evil and planning a rebellion. He also actually looks like Henry VIII and did not launch open rebellion in real life. He wears all black throughout the show so we know he’s definitely evil.

Cardinal Wolsey is also evil because he wants peace (boo!) and is pro-French (boo!). He’s conducting what appears to be the Treaty of London, but that was 1518 and there’s stuff that takes place in varying years. Pick a date, guys. Pick a date and stick to it. He beats a guy up. It’s weird.

Thomas Boleyn is introduced and because he’s actually wearing the right clothing out of all the characters, you can tell he’s evil. Because, yeah, I love that cheap idea that terrible fiction authors peddle that the Boleyns were evil schemers working their way to the top that flies in the face of just about all knowledge of political power in the period.

Random Oddness

Why is there straw just thrown around this floor? I saw extras struggling and just kicking it into the air. It’s weird. This is the grandest palace in England. I have no idea why there’s straw everywhere.

Look at Henry mangle this pomegranate. For symbolism. And because he’s a big gross child.

Unpicking the Tudors; S1 EP1 So, if you've had a look at my update post, I've not been doing much of anything lately.

[bladedbalatablog-blog]

How Golfing Saved my Life

I first picked up a

golf club

the year after my mom died.

And it saved my life.

I grew up in a magical, if not entirely backwards, period known as the 1980s. In addition to my miraculous survival through an era when seat belts were practically optional, organic hadn’t been invented yet, and parents only had the wisdom that their parents had passed down to them, my childhood was spent in a very small town. The year I was born, it’s population was just over six hundred people. And so, my beginning was spent as the oldest child of a barely-making-ends-meet working class family of five, in a three-bedroom house that stood next to a filbert orchard in Dundee, Oregon.

In that town, whose only municipal buildings were a single post office and an elementary school, my parents, for fear my brain would rot or my soul lost to the devil, forbade me many things. Mind you, I was allowed to do some things. Like ride my bike in the street completely unsupervised, without even owning a helmet. But there are two things that have stood out over my thirty-six years as being the most important. So of course now, besides my wife and kids, they’re the two things that have meant the most to me in the world.

I was five years old when I asked my father what the bag full of chrome sticks was hanging in the rafters of our garage.

“They’re golf clubs,” he told me.

“Can I see them?” I asked.

“Golf is for rich, old people. I only have those so I can play when my boss asks me to. It’s not for you. Don’t ask again,” he told me.

That was it. For the rest of my developmental years that’s what I believed. And anyone who played golf fit right into that stereotype for me. Golf was for rich people. Old people. And not me. If you weren’t those things, rich or old, then you weren’t doing it right. And golf wasn’t for you either.

That is, save a single instance in high school, when I was sixteen years old, and the girl I worshiped most had a poster of Tiger Woods hanging on the back of her door.

“Who’s that?” I asked.

“Tiger Woods,” she smiled. She was always smiling. Like she knew something I didn’t know. It drove me crazy.

“I don’t know who that is.”

“You will.” Maybe she really did know things.

Secondly, I wasn’t allowed to listen to music.

Not the music I wanted to, anyway.

Around the same time that my dad was telling me that golf wasn’t for me, my mom was telling me how dangerous music was. And was subsequently only allowed to listen to Bible stories on the record player and mom’s gospel music. But, she thought, even gospel could get a little racy sometimes.

It wasn’t until I was quite a bit older, riding the bus to the next town over for middle school, that I finally heard genuinely artistic music through the awful clock-radio speakers of my blessed bus driver’s radio.

I very clearly remember hearing Peter Gabriel for the first time. Eric Clapton for the first time. And remember my heart absolutely stopping any time Michael Jackson came on.

I admitted to her one day that I didn’t want to spend any more time learning to play the clarinet. They had bought it for me to play in the school band after I had specifically asked for a saxophone. So I could be like Kenny G. “It’s the same thing, just cheaper,” they told me. Every male trumpet player in the 6th grade disagreed.

I told my mom that I would rather spend my time learning to play the electric guitar.

“Electric guitars are the devil’s music,” she informed me. She added later that it was the high squealing solo parts that made the devil especially happy, which made me sad because those made me happy too.

That was the first time in my life I remember thinking that my parents were wrong about something. And refused to believe something they had told me. It took me nearly ten years from that moment, after thousands of attempts, from multiple angles, with every last bit of angst and determination a boy could muster to finally wear my mother down.

She bought me my first guitar when I was sixteen. I went to music college in New York City when I was eighteen. And was playing professionally by the time I was twenty-one.

She never got to see it.

I still loved my parents, then. I love them even more now. It’s just that my father was, and I think to some degree continues to be, filled with the kind of wisdom a person gets filled with growing up in the late 50s as the youngest son of a WWII chaplain and his British war-bride. His great rebellions consisted of going to see a movie after they told him movies were evil. And running off to live with his sister after high school, who herself was married to a pastor. What I’m saying is that his story isn’t a life lived out in The Hunger Games or The Catcher in the Rye. It was a life built with rules and boundaries and precision, and measured only by how steady one could be.

I want to be steady now, too. For my family.

But my story happened differently.

Mom got sick when I was fifteen and was gone by the time I was twenty. And when my world ended, collapsed, meaning ceased to exist, I just wanted something to fight against.

I needed it. A new battle. Something I could win. Because you can’t punch cancer.

And I was already well on my way musically.

What I needed was something new to fight. Something to pour the passions and fires and war from my life’s destruction into. Lest I destroy myself. Or someone I loved. Or both.

I remembered then the poster on the back of the door, and felt romance and passion.

I remembered my father telling me no. Rebellion.

I remembered what it took to get good at guitar. How my fingers bled on the frets. Fire.

My next door neighbor, a man named John, was one of the angels in my young life. He found out I wanted to play golf, was himself left-handed, and gave me my first clubs. He set them on our doorstep, bound together in a carboard box, for me to find. In those months after my mom’s death, being happy was such a foreign feeling to me that I cried when I saw them.

They were rough in my beginner hands.

MacGregor blades with hard, cord, black and green grips. You know the ones. They’re the ones your neighbor probably gave you when you first started playing.

My maiden voyage out was nine holes at the OSU home course with my best friend. I couldn’t hit a 7 iron more than a hundred yards and we barely finished. The skin on my hands, red and raw, pealed off in quarter sized blisters.

“When can we go again?”

The only words I could speak. I was in awe.

There’s never a good time to lose your parents. There’s never a good time to lose anyone. But spending high school watching her go. And then facing the idea of my twenties, trying to become the person I was meant to be, by myself? Alone? That I would never hear her calming voice again?

There’s no other word for it. I was scared.

But also, something new was forming. After buying a set of baseball gloves to cover both my hands so that I could still play guitar the next day, I wanted something beautiful. Maybe more than I had ever wanted anything before. I wanted to flush a 7 iron again. I wanted to learn how to hit the ball farther and straighter than anyone else could. And I wanted to hear my name called by the starter and walk out onto the course with nothing but me and the ball for hours and hours.

You can’t compare some things. Being a father or a good husband isn’t compatible or comparable to golf. Those things have separate categories.

But golf is perfect to me.

That’s what I’m trying to say.

For however long I’m out on the course, it’s perfect. Golf is my heaven.

When I first started out, the oldest, and hence cheapest, balls in the used ball bin were the old balata balls. Soft cover balls that, if you hit it with the leading edge of your club, left a scar that never went away. Cut it right to the core.

Some scars never fade. We can accept that.

But you can still finish the hole if you can find new reasons to go on. New joys and passions. New games to play. New courses. New playing partners.

A long time ago I was a very broken boy. Maybe I was broken from the start. But I’m still here and playing. And I couldn’t be happier.

That’s what I’m going to write about here.

My name is Nathan Christensen, and I am an old bladed balata.

And maybe that’s great, because maybe you are too.