#chills never (rarely) happen for me when I improvise

[marciego]

what’s your favorite canon moment of natila and what kind of dates do you think marciego would go on for the ask game <3

what’s your favorite canon moment of natila

i think it'd be when they passed the auditions for the rockbones and that naty was SO anxious about it and she tried to run away but camila immediately stopped her and made her stay and try to pass the audition too, and when naty did it and relaxed she sang to camila the entire time <3 i love this scene so damn much it's perfect

it could also very much be The One scene of them singing invincibles just the two of them and being GIRLFRIENDS, but honestly the whole rockbones arc they were THRIVING i love them so much

what kind of dates do you think marciego would go on

i think they'd be the KINGS of improvised dates, like every time they do plan something out some shit happens and forces them to cancel, one time marco straight up forgets, the other the band suddenly gotta schedule a rehearsal the day marciego planned their date, there's always Something that fucks up, so i think their way to go about it is just to go with the flow, one day diego steps out of his studio session with the boys and marco is waiting outside leaning against a pillar and when he sees him and takes him out to dinner, sometimes they're home chilling and one of them suddenly says he wants to do something and that's it they immediately leave to do it, sometimes that thing is going to the beach at 3am, sometimes it's sneaking in some park or whatever in the middle of the night and hiding from security guards while laughing all the way

i think that overall their improvised dates are very simple and casual, it's rarely (not to say never) Romantic tm dinner at a fancy restaurant or something of the sort, however it Is driving by a fastfood to get food at midnight and then driving to some place they both like and eating there while joking and laughing and staying up all night just roaming around the city aimlessly, walking through empty streets and taking in city lights, kissing around every corner and trying to get to the highest spot of the city to observe everything, possibly taking with them some alcohol and diego getting tipsy along the way, and realizing they've been out the whole night only when the sun strarts rising

also a bit different but it just makes perfect sense to me that marciego are into hiking so some of their more organized dates are along those lines, or like stuff that have to do with nature you know. renting a boat and leaving to hang out in the middle of the ocean, learning scuba diving together, that kind of really nature oriented things, i think it fits them a lot

[justletmeplayminecraft]

Hermitcraft Great British Bake Off AU

(Or the Great British Baking Show outside the UK)

With the start of a new series, I thought I'd compile this AU I came up with a while ago. Big shout out to @skywillsometimeswrite who helped me brainstorm nearly all of this (and accidentally got into the series sorry. Time to get emotional over bakers again.) 

It's Great British Bake Off, where the hermits take the place of the contestants, judges and some of the crew (with the recap boys as the hosts!) It follows the structure of the show, but to add maximum fluffiness, nobody leaves and the show works on a point system instead. The loser of each week does the washing up. (Not that the winner matters, this is all about the shenanigans.) Further explanations and what role each hermit fills with a short bio is under the cut!

The recording structure follows the usual routine. It takes place over several weeks, with the recording happening at the weekend. They stay at a hotel over the weekend. On the Saturday they record the Signature Challenge and the Technical. On the Sunday they film the Showstopper. Each week is themed, with the challenges fitting into that theme. The themes are often based around a certain kind of baking (pastry, bread, chocolate) but sometimes around time periods, places, or diets. I recommend googling or watching an episode of the show but a brief explanation of the challenges:

The Signature Challenge: They're given a certain thing (cake, pastry, biscuit, etc) to create. They've been able to practice at home. This is the opportunity to show personality and a home-cooked, rustic style with tried and tested bakes.

The Technical: The Judges take turns each week to set a recipe for an often uncommon bake. The recipe is bare-bones and the bakers have to use their intuition and knowledge about baking to create what's intended. This round is unpractised, and judged blind, with the judges outside the tent for the duration. The aim is to perfectly replicate the recipe given and that's how they're judged.

The Showstopper: A chance to bring out the big guns! They're often given a theme and a type of bake and then the contestants can go wild. The aim is to create something of professional quality, that makes the judges go 'wow' and still tastes good. Also practiced over the week, though sometimes less due to the size of the bakes.

Now onto the hermits:

The Judges are TFC and Biffa. TFC is the friendlier of the two. He does his best to find positives in bakes, although he enjoys making jokes about things that go wrong. Most of the contestants come to think of him as a grandad. Biffa gives more thorough criticism, but it helps the contestants improve a lot and is tailored towards the advice they need. They enjoy talking to the contestants about their bakes and lives outside the tent, both on and off camera. They've both had long careers in the industry.

The Hosts are our recap boys, Pixelriffs and Zloy. They're a dynamic duo in front of the camera, riffing off each other and the contestants naturally. They have a good balance of improvisation and planned skits. Zloy will doodle scenes from the tent during their downtime.

In alphabetical order, the Contestants:

1. Beef: Works as a butcher. It's often joked about, and not helped by him spilling red food colouring on his apron early in the series. He's incredibly good at piping and often creates artworks on top of his bakes for decoration. Absolutely smashes any biscuit decoration.

2. Cleo: Works as a teacher. Ironically, has to be censored at least once an episode and continuously hopes none of her students watch. It's hard to tell what she's doing until the last minute when she pulls it all together. She enjoys making little figures from fondant or rice crispy marshmallow mix.

3. Cub: Runs a sports equipment company. He likes coming up with creative solutions to the challenges and surprises the others by how focused he can become once in the zone. He has a deadpan sense of humour and a willingness to commit to bits. Often banters with Scar.

4. Etho: His job seems to change every time he mentions it. It never fails to catch the others off guard. He rarely explains his bakes, and his ability to mix flavours that shouldn't work but somehow do is infuriating. Sometimes, as he waits for things to bake, he uses the free time to play music on the baking equipment.

5. False: Works as a bodyguard. She says the details of her job are classified and never brings it up again. Nobody is sure if she's joking, but she's built. She's a very precise builder, with perfectionist tendencies that can sometimes come back to bite her if she focuses on them too much. She jumps between different themes with ease when decorating.

6. Grian: Works as an architect. He's fond of going big with his bakes, trying to push the limits of what's possible. However, he often gives himself too much to do, and ends up having to rush, disguise unfinished parts or the other contestants help him finish. He's bubbly in front of the camera and enjoys the occasional prank.

7. Impulse: Works as an electrical engineer. Also anxiety central. He's a very technical baker who's brilliant at following recipes. However, he will restart a bake if very minor things go wrong, which often leaves him pressed for time. Despite this, he's one of the most likely people to jump in and help someone who's struggling.

8. Keralis: Owns a bookstore. He loves decorating and his bakes are always some of the prettiest in the tent. Although he has a sleek, modern style, he can branch out when needed. He makes up his own pronunciation for ingredients, bakes and the other people in the tent. Gradually, everyone else starts using them too.

9. Scar: Works as a landscaper. Skilled at detailing and has out of the box thinking for his designs. Likes creating vehicles. However, sometimes he finds himself hiding bad baking with his decoration. His name proves accurate when half of his arm ends up bandaged in the first episode. Becomes good friends with Bdubs because of this.

10. Stress: Works as a personal trainer. Her bakes are always bright and colourful. It isn't a Stress bake if it doesn't make you smile. She's fairly equal on her decorating and her baking and enjoys a cartoonish style. A delight to have in the tent, loves helping other contestants and cheers them up if something doesn't go to plan.

11. xB: Medical researcher. His bakes are always creative, with fun stories behind them, if a bit dark. He's soft-spoken and doesn't raise his voice. He never quite swears but always comes close. The others can tell something's gone wrong when they hear a quiet 'dangit' or 'son of a-' and somebody jumps to find out what's happened.

12. Xisuma: Works as bee-keeper. He loves big shapes and patterns in his bakes. Often keeps things healthy(ish). He's primarily a technical baker and researches and practices his bakes extensively. However, he has a tendency to panic and makes silly mistakes (salt instead of sugar, forget to turn on the oven, etc.) 

The Crew Members:

Camera Crew:

Mumbo: Sometimes mistaken for being on a work placement/internship. He enjoys his work and takes a lot of the detail shots of the bakes. Although he can keep to himself, Iskall often brings him out of his shell and encourages him to chat with the contestants.

Ren: He's an incredibly chill presence to be around. He'll do his best to chat with contestants in-between filming and try to calm them down or hype them up. Usually he films stressful sequences with a reassuring smile and kind words. He enjoys singing in their downtime.

Zed: Very bouncy. He enjoys rushing around the tent to get over the shoulder shots or focus on the detail. He's good friends with Tango, and maybe he occasionally worries he’s ‘broken’ something to get the chance to talk to him on set. 

Sound:

Wels: He's calm and organised. He tests everybody's microphones are working and manages audio levels. He's good at handling distractions, but if they manage to catch him off-set they find he has a fun sense of humour and can give genuinely good advice. Enjoys singing to test the microphones when he thinks nobody's listening.

Wardrobe:

Iskall: Most of his work is done off-set, and he becomes good friends with the contestants, discussing their plans for bakes and chatting. He'll dart onto set to touch up make up when the cameras are off, offering words of encouragement as he does. Though it’s a bit concerning when he calls people’s bakes ‘of doom’.

On-site Medic:

Bdubs: Bdubs is a familiar sight with the accident prone contestants. He's always there with calm words and enthusiasm, talking the contestant down from their worry about their injury, helping them to relax. Despite his silliness, it's obvious he takes his job seriously. The contestants are glad to have him.

Set Manager:

Jevin: A bit chaotic, but he helps make sure things are set for filming. He enjoys getting the ingredients ready for the day and working out what they'll need. He also enjoys bullying Hypno. They've worked together a few times now. He enjoys a good joke when he gets the chance.

Hypno: Fairly relaxed, but he can appreciate a good joke and he appreciates Jevin. He helps organise ingredients and makes sure that things run smoothly on set. Very precise with his work, he doesn't cut corners and makes sure everyone has what they need, when they need it. A good person for the contestants to talk to.

Researcher:

Joe: He takes great pride in searching recipes, trying new things and adding them to his repertoire. Sure he might use a few too many words, but he's good at his job. He's not often on set, working mostly with Jevin and Hypno behind the scenes. But he might step in as tech if he's needed. A bit of a cryptid to the contestants.

Technicians:

Tango: A good friend of Zed. Even though he has some... Less than professional terms, he does his job well, and enjoys the opportunities he gets to socialise with the bakers. Very smiley and friendly, however if he’s in the tent, it’s likely something has gone very wrong. He's terrible at baking himself, much to the amusement of those who find out.

Doc: More serious than Tango, he's there to do a job, not make friends. Then he ends up making friends anyway. They're infectious. Grian enjoys 'breaking' things to annoy him (and have a chance to pull him on set to talk to him.) He does, secretly, enjoy the shenanigans the contestants get up to. But he'd never admit it.

Keeping in mind, I care less about the accuracy of this and more about The Shenanigans:

The first time Xisuma gets everything correct in a bake, he is convinced he’s still got something wrong. He spends the entire time until judging expecting there will be something wrong with it that they only discover during judging. A lot of memes are made out of his worrying.

At the end of filming during the heatwave, they have a lake party. Someone challenges Cub to jump in the lake and he cannonballs straight in. The others are surprised. Scar, who knows him well enough by then, is not. Doc is dragged in. Xisuma sits neatly on the edge and looks so relaxed they’d feel too guilty pulling him in. Keralis sits next to him and splashes him a little instead.

Cleo will make frequent asides to her students to try and impart good messages. Sometimes she swears during them. Then swears again upon realising. She uses her teacher voice on the other contestants a few times by accident (and on purpose.)

Someone doubts False’s strength. It’s probably Grian. She makes a beeline straight for him and hauls him onto her shoulder. And possibly into the lake. She makes it her mission to pick up most of the guys, whether they’re ready or not (with prior consent, of course.)

Stress and False work out together in the mornings. Sometimes some of the other contestants will join them and she’ll lead an impromptu work out session. She also does yoga in the evenings to calm down after filming. A fair few join her for that. 

Some of Etho’s jobs include: ‘I’m a gardener so I want this cake to include edible flowers’, ‘I’m a beekeeper so I wanted to use honey.’, ‘I’m a piano tuner so music is a big part of my life’, ‘I used to hack as a part-time job’. His job subtitle changes each episode. He gets a lot of concerned looks from other contestants.

Grian and Scar become frenemies because they’re bench buddies. Grian loves bullying Mumbo off-camera. He argues with Iskall over wearing anything but a red sweater. He loves complimenting everyone’s bakes. He makes a lot of friends. 

Tango and Zed often try to take jobs on the same productions. Zed likes to bother Tango with stupid ways to make broken tech work. Impulse will sit there and try to fix it in earnest. They have to remind Impulse he’s supposed to having a break before filming resumes. The three quickly become friends and can be found hanging out together.

During one of the heatwaves, Impulse near passes out from heat exhaustion. There’s eleven concerned people crowding around him, and it’s one of the only times Bdubs has to seriously raise his voice to gain control of the situation. The others are all sat outside in the shade and given water. Impulse goes back to the hotel and is ambushed by a lot of very concerned friends later that day. They take good care of him and threaten to beat him up if he doesn’t take better care of himself.

During Saturday evenings is when they’ll all lounge around the hotel and hype each other up for the show stopper. They like discussing what their plans are and sharing their ideas. A lot of dumb things happen to help work off the nervous excitement. 

There’s also a lot of calming each other down when they’re stressed out and caring about each other. It’s the Found Family VibesTM.

Even though washing up is supposed to be a punishment, a group of them usually end up doing it together and singing loudly and terribly to the radio.

One of the contestants catches Wels singing as he tests his microphone and drags him outside to come and jam with the contestants. Ren joins in. Etho provides backing. It delays things a little but they agree it’s worth it.

Keralis and Beef at some point have some made up war between them that is completely stupid, entirely overdramatic, and gives all the contestants a lot to laugh about.

There is, absolutely, a prank war part way through the season. It also extends off-set. Nobody is safe.

I haven’t seen anyone doing this AU before, and I apologise if they have! I hope there’s enough unique ideas to set it apart. But yeah, this is the AU I use when I just want some Fluffy content. Thanks for reading!

[ravensmind]

Happy RobRae week 2021! Here's my day 1 prompt fic. There will be an extended smuttier version coming soon. Might only do this prompt this year just due to things I have going on, but I'm still writing! Hope you enjoy this 😃.

https://www.fanfiction.net/s/13863436/1/Finals-and-a-First

~RavensMind~

RobRae week 2021 

Day 1: Gotham Academy AU

Finals and a First

Finals week. Two simple words that had the power to make anyone quake with anxiety and while he may do a good job of hiding it, Dick Grayson was no exception. Luckily for him, he had a solid group of friends who had each other’s backs. They mostly studied as a group when they were free, unless their class schedule or extracurricular activity demanded they improvise. Gotham Academy was not known for caring about its students' friendships or whether they had free time to study together or not. Dick was on the football team and they did not have practice that day, so he was free, but Victor, Kori, Garfield, and Tara were all at meets or practices or matches or just in class, only Rachel was able to study with him, and that presented a challenge. Dick was enamored with Rachel, infatuated with Rachel, could not stop thinking about Rachel, and she had no idea because he just could. Not. Tell. Her. 

Even though Rachel Roth, the quiet, reserved, sarcastic, smart, violet-haired girl was sitting only inches away from him at the same table in the library, he could not look at her, as he had some paranoid feeling that she knew exactly how he felt when he looked at her. Normally, he would play off of his other friends, but now they were alone. He hid in his textbook, pretending to be very interested in some words located near the spine of the book in some rose colored block of text. Out of frustration with his own inner turmoil, he picked up the noble they’d been assigned to read and chucked it into a nearby bookcase.

“Are you okay?” Rachel asked in a frustrated tone.

“Yeah, I’m fine, why?” Dick returned.

"You’re just not usually this quiet, is all,” she replied.

“Guess I’m just nervous,” he said.

“About our finals?” 

“Yeah,” he said, thanking the universe for that excuse.

“I didn’t think you got nervous over stuff like this, at least I don’t think I’ve seen it. Wait ‘till this gets out, the chill, cool captain of the football team is freaking over his final,” she teased.

“But you wouldn’t tell anyone, right?”

“No. Lucky you, I don’t think anyone would believe me.”

“That the only reason you wouldn’t say anything?”

“No, because I don’t know that I believe you either,” she replied, toying with a strand of her hair with one of her slim, almost pale fingers.

Dick chanced a look at her and was surprised to see a playful smirk on her face and a strange look in her violet eyes that he was not sure he had seen before. He tensed a little when he realized he had slipped up and looked at her. Did she know? Was he screwed? The last thing he wanted was to make her uncomfortable and get on her bad side. She had enough trouble dealing with the gossip and judgmental teachers for her goth vibe and overall lack of shits to give attitude.

At one point, he heard Rachel had been summoned to the dean’s office for violating the dress code by wearing black knee highs over fishnets and foregoing the standard blue skirt for a black one. Her response was that technically she was in compliance, as there was no rule about a specific color skirt, or that she could not wear anything in addition to the socks on her legs, and she was a model student. Aside from snapping at a teacher or two, she was rarely in trouble, and he knew she had good grades. She still kept that style, even though more teachers voiced their disapproval, but they ultimately could not do anything without changing the dress code and it was not worth it. After he heard about what happened, Dick helped her out by changing the color tie and slacks he wore from blue to black, as his popularity would make her style choice far less controversial. He had mostly done it to help her, but he also liked being seen as more of a rebel. He stuck up for her when she was being picked on and she was always quick to shut down anyone who was bad-mouthing him.They had grown a bit closer as a result, though neither really acknowledged it to the other. 

He swallowed and considered what his options would be if she dug deeper. He hoped that he could talk his way out of whatever accusation she was about to make. He shifted in his chair and cleared his throat.

“What makes you say that?” he asked.

“Hmm. Well, you’ve never really stressed about tests before. When Gar complains, you calm him down and put together a plan to study, so I’m pretty sure you’re more level-headed,” she replied.

“Doesn’t mean I’m not nervous.”

“No, but I think it’s less likely that it’s about the exams. Now that I think about it… you kind of acted like this last time we hung out. Maybe it’s about one of us,” she thought aloud.

“Like I said, I’m nervous about finals. It’s, uhh, just been a lot for me this time. It’s our last year and I don’t want Bruce to be harder on me if I don’t measure up,” he said, injecting a little truth, desperately hoping it would help sell his lie.

“I suppose that’s fair, but I still don’t think it’s that.”

“Why’s it matter? It’s not like I’m hiding anything that would hurt people. I’m just stressed!”

“You’re hiding plenty, but that’s not the point. It matters,” she hesitated before continuing, “because I don’t like seeing you stressed. It’s like I can feel it and I want to help you. Something’s clearly eating at you and I hate seeing you try and bury it like it’s not there.”

He sighed and looked  down at his book. He stared down at the page as he felt the swelling of emotions that rose from his heart. He wanted to spill everything, but knew that it would not be fair to her, to dump everything at once and give her a massive choice to make about them. He cared about her and she clearly cared about him, so he thought he might be able to at least give her a hint or two. She was dealing with more than enough, she didn’t need his problems too.

“Okay...don’t laugh. It’s about a girl,” he said.

Rachel perked up and tilted her head. Dick swore her eyes lit up, but that may have just been a trick of the light as someone passed by the window near them, book in hand. 

“I’m not going to laugh! What’s making you so nervous? I seriously doubt you’d ever need to be stressing over a girl, plenty throw themselves at you, though I guess that could be tough too.”

“She’s different. I like her, but she’s never really said if she likes me or not. I hang out with her quite a bit and we have fun, or I think we do. I'm just not sure if I want to take a chance and mess up a good thing.”

“You’re being ridiculous.. Clearly she likes you enough to spend time with you, you should have had some kinda obvious sign by now. Some girls tease you or act a certain way around you, others might be more blunt, but you have to know at this point. Though, it would help if you said who she is,” she teased knowingly.

“Hah, yeah, it is a little silly,” he chuckled, “You wouldn’t tell her though?”

“Yeah, that’s why I’m interested, I need to get ready for the big reveal, lots of pyro and speakers to set up,” she replied sarcastically, rolling her eyes, “No, of course not, idiot. You know you can trust me. Why the secrecy, though? Is it... Kori?”

She leaned forward with interest, almost teetering on the edge of her seat.

“No, uh, but you’re kinda close,” he said, anxiously shifting in his chair.

He watched as she went quiet and crossed her legs in her chair, sitting up a bit straighter as she considered the possible remaining options. He hoped she had thought of herself first.

“I admit, I could see why you’d like Tara, she’s pretty easy to talk to and knows what she likes, which isn’t common,” she said, tracing her bottom lip with her finger, “I think she can be a little insecure though, so you may want to keep that in mind.”

He wondered to himself if she was toying with him.

“It’s uhh, it’s not Tara, either,” he admitted, his cheeks turning red.

Rachel’s cheeks also reddened as her mouth formed a coy smile, and she went quiet. Her fingers played with the edge of a page in her textbook as she looked away from Dick toward the door before snapping back so her eyes met his.

“Oh. So, I think if you like her, you really should say something. I’m not sure if I know *exactly* how she feels, but I’d want to hear you say how much you like me. I’d like to know how I made you feel… if I was her,” she teased.

“Are you sure? I uhh, I’d hate if I came on to her too strongly, she’d shut me down and it would mess with the friendship she and I had,” he asked, undoing his tie and opening his school blazer a little. He was feeling very warm all of a sudden.

“I don’t think she would let that happen, Dick,” she replied, leaning closer to him, “You should probably tell me who she is...so I have a better idea.”

He took a deep breath and smiled at her, letting the moment last, enjoying the hopeful, expectant look on her face.

“Her name is Rachel,” he said, edging closer to her.

Dick felt his heart pounding in his chest and he swore his face was burning as they both got closer to each other, until his lips were inches from Rachel’s. Neither looked around to see who else in the library might be watching, and the idea that anyone else even existed was as distant as another planet. Her eyes closed as she pressed her lips to his and he eagerly kissed her back, hardly believing this was happening. Their heated kiss was interrupted by the sound of the librarian reprimanding a classmate of theirs at another table on the other side of a bookcase. Rachel smiled at him, biting her lip while she studied his face for a moment.

“That. Is what you get when you tell the truth,” she said.

[lizacstuff]

SCK episode 46 asks!

Hi folks, below the read more you'll find a smattering of asks about this week's episode as well as a few spoilers for 47.

Good asks this week:

(under the cut)

Anonymous asked: this may be superficial of me, but why are they dressing Serkan in such ugly tops? they finally brought Eda's hair back but now this

BWAH! You're not wrong. You know what I'm wondering, if they've put him in some of those outfits because they are showing his suburban dad side? It's kind of a subtle nod to him embracing father hood and a different way of life? He's now all about running around the yard after his daughter and not about what he looks like when he's being SERKAN BOLAT, FAMOUS BUSINESS MAN and WORLD'S BEST ARCHITECT.

Also, Eda's hair, thank goodness they let that go once the flashbacks were over and we didn't need something to distinguish between then and now! Those curly bangs were not it.

Anonymous asked: They built up the Edser chemistry soooooo well throughout the episode... for that ending? Who decided to cut it there?! The scene was BEAUTIFUL I’m actually upset lol. are not we going to see any more? I’m not asking for a sex scene, I wanted to see THE moment they decided to get back together (the tattoo line doesn’t do it for me) - a few words, tears as they embrace, him walking through the door as she closes it, one passionate kiss, something! But it doesn’t feel like a cliffhanger that continues next week. I’ll be so underwhelmed when they cut to the morning after and we have to infer that they got back together overnight *sigh* if they were allowed 1 kiss only, id rather it have been here instead of ep 2

We do deserve to see how they reconcile, that should be one of the biggest moments of the season after 7 episodes of build up to it.

90% of final scenes in this show have continued uninterrupted the next week. To me there's no reason to think the next episode won't pick up right where this one left off. Crossing fingers!

Anonymous asked: It just hit me that Serkan is the “Kiraz” for Kemal - but Kemal actually missed his child’s whole 35 years 😬 this is an interesting turn of events. Also that line Serkan said about how fathers should love their child’s mother and how he didn’t have that with his own parents....but his real dad does love Aydan, more than she deserves haha.

Oh so true! Kemal really does love his mother more than she deserves! How he puts up with her, I don't know.

The parallel between Serkan/Kemal and Kiraz/Serkan is strong and I hope it gives Serkan some perspective when he starts grappling with this knowledge. I'm sure it's going to be very disconcerting for him, because while he expected to never see his father again, Alptekin is still his father. He's still the man who raised him and formed him into the man he is. Serkan still runs the company he founded and bears his name.

I don't expect any of that to change, but hopefully he can forge a separate relationship with Kemal that might fill some emotional holes that he has and bring him some peace.

None of that even contemplates how Kemal will feel, thankfully Aydan didn't willfully hide the truth from him. How awful to realize you lost 35 years.

We aren't there yet, but I wonder at what age with Kiraz learn the truth, that her dad is not an astronaut, that her parents went through hell with with cancer and plane crashes, and that her father didn't know of her existence until right before they met?

Just something to think about.

Anonymous asked: i'm so happy for hanker, don't get me wrong, and i'm also so happy we get "together" edser for so many episodes until the end, but i'm already tired of the constant "hanker improvising" comments i know i will be seeing. not that they don't improvise in some scenes, but i just know that every romantic edser scene is gonna be analyzed to hell bc ppl want to look for hanker in them. like there's no possible way that ayse, the writer ppl hate the most, could write any romantic scenes.. nope no way!

Yes, this is one of my pet peeves, I can't stand the "Edser left the chat" and all the "that's Hanker, not Edser" type conversation. it's so invasive and most of all disrespectful to not only the writers, but Hande and Kerem and all the work they pour into bringing Eda and Serkan to life.

One of the things in fandom that sets my teeth on edge is when folks take some interpretation of the character by the actor and then decide because it wasn't "scripted" (pro tip the vast majority of physical movements the actors make are "unscripted") that it must just be the actors themselves and have nothing to do with the characters. What an embarrassing and naïve assertion. Actors literal job is to take what's on the page and then translate that. So, no, OF COURSE, every look and touch is not scripted. The actors interpret how their characters would think and feel, and what they would do in given moments and then do those things.

Eda is not touching Serkan's arm just because Hande can't hold herself back from touching Kerem. Puh-lease, they are professionals. Grow up.

However, having said all that, I do think there was one scene that seemed to be very improvised this episode. The bean scene in the grocery store did feel like them just eFFing around. LOL.

andhewonherheart asked: @andhewonherheart: SCK promo department is best and worst all at the same time, cause giving away the last (cliffhanger) scene in fragman is just cruel. But based on the next week’s fragman thing happens that we we think happens *wink*

Hee! So true. The thing I'm grateful for is that in season 2 not one fragman has made me dread the episode, I think there was at least one fragman an episode from 29-37 that was hella upsetting.

As far as I'm concerned these fragmans are doing there job, making me want to watch.

I am really excited for Serkan planning how he's going to ask Eda to marry him, I wonder what Kiraz's reaction is going to be. So far she's been their very own cupid!

Anonymous asked: I didn't find it surprising that Serkan removed his tattoo as soon as Eda left. His logic is always out of sight out of mind though it doesn't work. He did the same when he broke up with her when he found out about the death of her parents. He removed all of her belongings. But their memories are too strong and enough for him to continue to remember her.

Truth! Will he ever learn that it's never going to work? He'll never be able to erase Eda, she has left an indelible mark on his soul. Let's hope he's never faced with that situation again! From here on out, he and Eda are together, a unit, and will live a long life together and in love.

Anyone have any guesses where Eda's tattoo is? Will we find out or will it remain between the characters.

Anonymous asked: I've seen some people say that Edser are getting married now way too fast and to that I just have to laugh lol. First there were complaints we don't have happy Edser and now when we do, of course there's something else. These two have had a rollercoaster of a year when they first met and a five year separation.. they've been through the dating phase, the engaged phase.. of course they'll head straight to the altar! It's not like Eda's plane proposal and that first wedding wasn't rushed either!

I'm on team head straight to the alter! No more waiting. They've had terrible luck, so they just need to tie the knot and make sure there are no easy outs.

As for people who think it's too fast, they don't even know the storyline yet, I swear there are folks who complain just because that's their personality and they're never satisfied.

Anonymous asked: From some of the spoilers of BTS pics, and the fragman we got, I was just reflecting on this season and Turk romcom dizis in general and I just wanted to say how LUCKY we are to see Edser married (again, from spoilers) and with a kid on screen for more than just 10 minute at the end of the finale. Like, it is really rare and as much as people have nitpicked on this season in general, I feel like watching these last episodes have been such a breeze after the last arc of S1.

Oh agreed, I think these episodes have been very enjoyable. The writers are giving me exactly what I want from this show. Comedy, UST, romance with a little light angst thrown in now and again. I would rewatch this season a dozen times before even thinking about watching anything from the 30s.

We are very lucky that we've got to see them as parents, and actually forming their family. We've gotten so much domestic goodness so far and we still have a ways to go. I'm very appreciative of this season and that Ayse came back, got rid of the constant ridiculous melodrama for melodrama's-sake and is telling a very human story about family and love persevering.

Anonymous asked: the last scene gave me chills for some reason. you could actually see eda fighting her head and her heart and deciding to take the step (metaphorically and physically!) towards him for good. i wanna SUE whoever decided to end it the ep there though.. it was actually cruel. also looking at the next frag.. it makes my heart soft that in the flashbacks we see serkan pushing off their wedding bc of his fears and now he can't propose and get married fast enough.. can't believe we're really getting it

I know, it's almost surreal at this point. Since we're near the end we know it's for real and won't be ruined by psychos or awful family members or terminal illness. I just hope that they give us an emotional scene when they get married, whether its just them or the whole cast is there as guests, after everything they've (we've) been through we need to see them both feeling that moment and reveling in it.

FYI - I'm out of town next weekend, so I may be slower than usual in replying to asks and in posting gifs of 47, but I'll get to it all eventually!

[b4kuch1n]

The Future Is In Space! (and so is the rest of you)

Okay, so. Gordon should’ve seen this coming. 

And he did, to be fair: Joshua’s always loved space. Joshua loved the idea of flying cars when he was a tiny little thing, if the fact that all of the toy cars he had were thrown with intense force at one point or another meant something, and he clapped at the night sky once when Gordon got them both stuck at a gas station in the middle of nowhere due to… circumstances… which was super, ultra, uber cute as fuck . Especially because Gordon had just applauded him for singing along to a song on the radio when they parked, and that was very possibly the first time Joshua registered clapping as a possible positive reaction to something he likes, or whatever like that. Gordon Freeman has a PhD in theoretical physics and theoretical physics only.

The point is that Gordon loves Joshua so fucking much. No, the point is that Joshua has always liked space. He chose for himself a set of space-themed PJs when Gordon took him to the mall, and he likes food with weird colors because that’s “alien food”, and he has given away all of the toy cars he had to make space for toy space ships of many sizes, and Gordon has had to have a conversation with him once about upending a dusty fish bowl onto his own head so he could look like an astronaut. He doesn’t do that anymore, because Joshua is genuinely a really smart kid who just needs the required pieces of information to put things together by himself. 

Gordon loves him so much. 

Gordon also has only experienced a single year of relatively radiation-free, sludge-free, organic, non-Black Mesa- poisoned air and also freedom (to an extent) since. You know. Almost dying and also losing his right arm in Black Mesa. Where he jumped into a few portals, one of which leading to an alien world called Xen, where he had to kill what seemed to him at the time a spiteful god against his own existence. 

That, and not the Joshua-loves-space part, is the part he didn’t see coming. Hadn’t. Still doesn’t, if he can be honest for a minute. There are days it still doesn’t feel real, just to contrast nicely with the days when what’s left of his right arm and his right shoulder hurt, and days when power outage hit unexpectedly and the lights went out without warning, and days when he fights to not let some stupid fucked up slights against him go because that’s just how the world is that’s how things are now keep your head down and don’t think Gordon just shoot just let your trigger finger pull itself in you are in a comedy of error a laugh track a monkey on a leash just dance just move your feet j

Hey, no digging your heels in there. Throw yourself off your rhythm, Gordon. Joshua. Joshua loves space. Joshua is going to an elementary school now. Joshua just came home from a “career” day, and the parent invited to speak is a retired astronaut. 

Joshua said: “I wanna be an astronaut when I grow up!”

Joshua likes numbers. Somewhat. He’s not averse to them, at the very least, and homework’s kind of bullshit from the concept to the execution but when Gordon and Tommy and Coomer sit down to keep him engaged while he does it he has fun with math homework. He likes video games, he likes the puzzles in the youth magazines they signed up for at his school, he likes messing with shape blocks and pulls out some cool combinations Gordon doesn’t see coming sometimes. Joshua is a smart kid that enjoys a fair challenge. Joshua is totally astronaut materials. 

Joshua is going to space. 

Joshua is absolutely going to space. 

Xen is, coincidentally, also in space. 

Gordon is calm. He totally has a good poker face. He performs well under pressure, especially very specific types of pressure, e.g. when there are rules in place he can cling to and ground out an appropriate plan of action. He could improvise a presentation in class in a pinch, because he knew what presentations are and what he’s been working on and what the teacher expected. He could jimmy his car out of an ice patch, because he knew how cars work and how ice acts. He can smile and say “That’s great, Joshie! You just gotta work hard for it, and then you’ll be in space in no time.”

Gordon has an image he can provide to show how he feels.

[Picture ID: a drawing of Gordon Freeman standing in front of his son Joshua, cut off at their chest. Gordon is a tall man, a bit heavyset, with tan skin and mid-back length, messy curly brown hair that’s greyed at his temples due to stress from surviving the hellhole that is Black Mesa and Xen. He’s wearing his comfortable worn-and-faded t-shirt, which is orange with a very faded graphic printed on the front. Joshua is a young boy with brown skin and short dark curly hair, brown eyes that’s brimming with light and happiness, and a wide happy smile. He’s wearing a light green t-shirt. Gordon is smiling at him, with another shot of his face enlarged and superimposed on the drawing right next to his head. This Gordon is screaming. This Gordon is screaming his heart out, and his face is scrunched up while his mouth opens wide, and he’s screaming a silent scream and he will never stop.]

---

Contrary to how it appears to everyone, Benrey doesn’t live full time at the Freemans’. 

Well. He does “sleep” there. If he actually sleeps. That’s one of the questions that Gordon has had ever since Black Mesa that he never got to or bothered to ask, and then when they had to defeat Benrey in the final boss fight he thought that was it with his chance to ever ask. And then Benrey came back and the situation took a hard left into throw-the-whole-suitcase-out awkwardness and Gordon thought it better to never bring those questions up ever again. It’s. Ongoing. Like his climb back into being a normal, mostly law abiding, neutral good citizen, who has no ties to that research facility that blew up and opened a portal to hell in space. 

It helps that Benrey really is just… a dude. Now that he’s not eighty feet tall and clipping through walls anymore, he can definitely pass as someone who just really loves to mess with people for a laugh. Which… well, Gordon’s judgement of character is probably better discarded in the kitchen trash compactor now, but he’s not gonna lie and say that’s all Benrey seems to him. He doesn’t even mess with people for laugh, not really. He is just. Like that. He’s an alien, but in the sense that’s… 

Well, to Benrey, humans are alien. So that’s that. 

And also Black Mesa did stretch the definition of ‘human’ in the physical sense pretty thin. So, again, that’s that. It all fits together like sliced pita bread. 

The other thing that helps is that Gordon has the tendency to forget about risks or consequences when they are not directly in front of him, which he sometimes overcorrects, but this time around it helps move the sentiment into the philosophical window pretty quick, and then he can throw a brick through that one, because philosophy sucks ass. Gordon’s moving along well! He only had to change prosthetics twice because the first two were in order too heavy for his shoulder and too energy consuming, and all three are fully covered by the overlords that didn’t want Black Mesa to become a Thing in history, and now he works remotely for a uni that just lets whatever happen. It’s chill. It’s mostly chill. 

He could’ve just chugged along never thinking even an inch deeper about Benrey’s Benrey-ness again, and Benrey makes that easy, because Benrey loves walking around and looking at things and being a bit of a spectacle with a straight face. Okay, Gordon doesn’t know for sure if Benrey loves doing those things, because he’s not Benrey. He just knows that Benrey does those things, frequently, and with an expertise that baffles even him, who knows full well how Benrey is. Well enough. Awkward territory, all of this is, really. The Point Is that Benrey actually doesn’t appear at home too much! He plays games through the night sometimes, sure, and ever since he called second dibs on any cereal in the apartment he always appears at the right time to claim that, but the whole thing is. Balanced. Benrey doesn’t seem to have physical personal belongings outside of the PS3 and four copies of Heavenly Sword he lugged back one day (the rest of the game library everyone kinda chimed in here and there to build up, because console is common ground fair use for everyone, while PC is where Gordon streams and also works, so it’s off limit), and he rarely uses utensils to eat anything, so to anyone but the team it’d seem like he’s barely there at all. Except for his presence of course. That’s… a lot harder to negotiate.

Gordon’s gotten very, extremely good at it though. It’s his life. Things fit together, mostly. He can deal, he has been dealing, and it’s even been fun. It’s definitely really funny here and there. 

Gordon’s about to break the equilibrium. Introduce a nasty new specimen into the scene.

“Bro I knocked for a hot minute,” Benrey says, at the same time as Gordon’s blurting out, “I need to go back to Xen.” 

“Huh.”

“Wha- Why do you knock? You’ve never knocked. You’ve literally only ever broken in.” 

“Wanna… start now.” Benrey intones in that exact way, and then knocks on the door again. It doesn’t even sound good. These doors are all made with the weird thick composite that makes a dull plastic sound when knocked on. 

“Don’t do that, just use the doorbell if you want to-” Gordon catches himself. “No matter. I need to go back to Xen. As soon as possible, but anytime in the next… twelve years… will work.” 

Benrey just looks at him for a long time. An extended minute. Maybe even two. 

Gordon is just staring back. 

“You’re at. The door.” Benrey says, in a low voice. Gordon blinks. “Rude… rude little boy Freeman, huh.” 

Gordon takes a deep breath. “Benrey-”

“Gonna let me in? Soon? ‘s bad etiquette… greeter… doesn’t even let guests in. Bet your wares aren’t even good.” 

“Alright! Alright.” Gordon snaps, but he also does step back for Benrey to walk in, which. Really, that’s never been necessary. Benrey’s always come in and out as he pleases. Usually Gordon just walks out into the living room and Benrey’s already on the couch playing whatever game catches his eyes on that day. The decorum of knocking and walking in is simply never present. 

Well, Benrey does knock on Joshua’s bedroom door. But that’s it. 

They walk together into the living room, then Benrey situates himself on the couch, and Gordon settles on the carpeted floor next to the table to observe him. He’s never seen Benrey actually fold his limbs up into the position he’s usually already in when walked in on before. It’s mostly normal movements, which still catches Gordon off-guard a bit.

“Nice couch you’ve got here,” Benrey says, and pulls out his phone to fiddle with. It’s a Nokia 2700 Classic, with a theme downloaded from the Ovi Store, and a firefighter-themed 2D platformer that does get insanely hard in places. Tommy got him a snazzier Blackberry a while back, but he refused that one. Gordon didn’t really get it, but. Whatever. 

“It’s always been here,” Gordon replies on reflex.

“Liar… Gordon Lie… man.” Benrey seems to need to chew on that one for a second. “Gordon Lieman. This building’s like. Ten years old.” 

“That’s practically forever dude.  That’s longer than they sent me to MIT for. Joshua’s not even that old.” 

“He’s gonna. In… seven… years.” 

Gordon remembers what he needs to talk with Benrey about again. “Goddamnit,” he slaps his own face - not with the hard prosthetic this time, thank you very much. Took him six months of HEV training and a year with a prosthetic to get it to heart. “Okay, so. Xen.”

“Wait. Math’s wrong… eleven. Years.”

“Don’t distract me! Xen!” Gordon throws his arms up, finally making Benrey actually look at him proper. “Joshua wants to be an astronaut when he grows up.” 

Benrey puts his phone down. 

“Yeah,” Gordon scrubs his face, with his flesh hand. “So I need to… do something about Xen. I have a plan. I need to find materials, and then I need a way to Xen…” 

“What’s an astronaut.” 

“A- no.” Gordon sits up straight. “No, you’re fucking with me. You’re doing this on purpose. I’m fucking about to go nuts, dude.” 

Benrey looks him up and down, makes sure his head movement is clear in the dark living room, lit only by the lamppost outside the window. “Yeah,” he says, “no shit. You wanna go back to… Xen… and stuff. Freeman lost his mind.” 

Gordon opens his mouth to retort, but then closes it with a click. “Okay,” he mumbles after a moment of thinking it over, “okay. I get where you’re coming from.”

“Haha, get it. ‘cause I’m from. Xen. And shit.” 

“Not funny, dude.” It is a bit funny. “But I’m not- okay, so, listen, Joshua’s a determined kid, alright? He’s smart, and he’s healthy, and he likes space. He’s… the chance of him becoming an astronaut is not zero.” Gordon pulls his legs up to his chest. “If it’s up to me, it’s gonna be a hundred percent, ‘cause that’d make him so happy. But even if I’m not the one writing the almighty script I’m still gonna do my best to help him if he’s serious.” 

Benrey continues looking at him. “Uh-huh.”

“And… that includes. Never letting him near Xen.” 

“Mm.”

“And I know, I know Xen’s like. Ten fucking floating rocks at least a million Texas lengths away from Earth, but it’s still there, y’know? It’s still there. You’re from there! You know it’s still…” 

“Yeah?”

“... I. Want to blow Xen up.” 

Benrey settles into the draw-me-like-a-French-girl pose. “Sounds good. How’re we doing that.”

“Well, we’ll need explosives that can actually detonate in Xen’s climate, and acquiring that’s gonna put me on so many shitlist-” Gordon almost physically grabs his own hand to yank himself back to Benrey’s answer. “Wait. Are you really just… relenting? Are you actually in this now. Benrey?”

“Say more about the explosive though.” Benrey blinks innocently at him. “Please? Explosive cool. Maybe illegal. Super cool though.” 

Gordon is not doing the frog mouth thing. He’s not. He’s totally not. He sighs a long sigh; there, no more rude expression. “I am only thinking about using explosives, because it’s costly and we’re gonna have to transport it. So you have nothing to snitch about. Who would you even snitch to, anyway? Fucking- we are under an indefinite two-way nondisclosure clause, if any of us ever open our mouth to a stranger about that we’re gonna get sacked, but. Wait are you even involved in that? You came back after we signed those papers. Well Tommy’s officially ‘representing’ us, so it’s all tangential kinda, so maybe he can just add you, but why would you-”

“No explosive run huh… What’re you gonna… use. Then.” 

“-subject yourself to the law- alright, yeah uh. To be honest I was thinking raw force? Because I do have around twelve years to make this work, and Coomer has insane strength that has leveled a Xen island before, and Bubby is… I think he just isn’t aware that there’s supposed to be a limit to human strength at all. They forget to put that in when they pumped him with knowledge juice. He can- wait, Bubby can just make fire. He can maybe negate the climate conditions for us, so explosives are still in the question here, and- Darnold, last I heard he’s doing some ‘Sour Patch Kids but real’ stuff… sounds like seriously corrosive stuff… We can. We can have a plan.”

Benrey is on his phone again. “Nice.”

“Yeah. Okay.” Gordon dry swallows some dust from the carpet. He realizes he’s gripping on it pretty hard with his prosthetic; he’s close to ripping a chunk of it out. He takes a deep breath and relaxes the plastic hand. “We’re gonna need to make and test the explosives, and we’re. I need to tell everyone. Convince them to help. And we’ll need a portal back to Xen.”

Benrey’s still clicking away on his phone - probably playing that firefighter game again - but he’s looking at Gordon at the same time. Gordon looks up just in time to catch the sharp grin disappearing from his face. 

Alright. Maybe Benrey does love doing Benrey things. At least one of them’s actively enjoying this.

---

Gordon’s well aware how ridiculous he is. Is sometimes seen as. Perceived as. Terminologies.

Mostly he copes fine with that. He’s lived it for as long as he’s alive. Most decisions he makes are met with a raised eyebrow at the sublest and outright laughter at the rudest. Transitioning, that was a long, long period of his parents going from “haha funny joke but don’t tell it in public yeah” to “oh shit that’s for real huh? That’s for real” to confused, but silent, silence. Him applying for MIT and seeking a scholarship was definitely the career advisor at his high school laughing uncomfortably for a long time, because Gordon’s never held down a project properly, has he? How’s he doing this? And then him adopting Joshua officially was at least ten separate conversations with Joshua’s grandparents patting him on the back, it’s okay if you don’t! We can care for him. It’s nice to have children around the house again! We know you’re busy! We know there’s things youngsters like you want to do before getting tied down with children. Trust us, we know. You don’t have to . 

Gordon knows. He’s never had to make any of the decisions he actively made, but one, that’s why they’re decisions and not punishments , and two, in many ways including cerebral, he did. Kind of have to. In many ways those are the only steps that make sense for him to take. They were the foundation to who he is as a person, with a sense of self that must be supernaturally obscure, because he’s. He’s got a lot of things to balance. A lot of tight ropes to walk. 

Gordon’s many things, a lot of those he doesn’t fucking recall himself. Maybe that’s by itself absurd enough. He’s had a lot of time to learn, and a bit of time to relearn, being okay with being absurd. 

Black Mesa “helped”, in the same way it spared the rest of him when it got his arm cut the fuck off. It’s a horror comedy. It gave him a bit of a new perspective on absurdity. 

“Don’t you dare,” Gordon grouches, because he’s learning. He’s always learning. “Don’t use the a-word.” 

Bubby puts his arm together in front of his chest. “I’m not about to! Don’t presume you know what I will do.” 

In a way Bubby’s incredulous look stings worse than Benrey’s deflection, Gordon reasons, because Benrey has emotional (?) stakes in Xen’s existence. Maybe he has an external heart or something that’s still beating and keeping him alive on Xen, though Gordon hopes he’d’ve at least been transparent about that when they talked about blowing the place up. Bubby though, Bubby doesn’t have emotional ties to many things altogether. Bubby’s also a tube baby who sets himself on fire with his thoughts. Himself and other people and/or objects. Not as absurd as Benrey being Benrey, but absurd enough to be way above Gordon on the a-scale, and thus has no rights to call Gordon absurd. 

“You have to admit though,” Bubby says after a moment of silence.

Gordon takes a deep breath. “No, actually, I don’t have to admit shit,” he says, with what he can call patience with just a little bit of definition stretching, “you ever thought of that? I actually can just never admit that blowing up a whole planetoid system is a bit out-of-the-box thinking of me. I can just say that it’s totally normal and expected behavior of me, and what’re you gonna do with that? Huh? Do go on.” 

“Oh don’t be pissy at me,” Bubby huffs, and goes back to staring at the buoy bobbing on the water surface, tied to his fishing line. “You’re scaring away the fish, Gordon. Everyone knows you don’t talk and stomp around on the piers while people are fishing. It’s rude.”

“You’re literally only trying to see if you can set a fish on fire as a prank,” Gordon points out, more for his own sanity than to prove anything to anyone, least of all Bubby.

Benrey looks like he’s ignoring Gordon and Bubby’s exchange, just sitting at the edge of the piers, legs swinging evenly, but Gordon well knows he’s listening in. If not because he’s somewhat invested then because most things that frustrate Gordon is great entertainment to him. 

He is, maybe, a bit, somewhat invested though, must be. He brought Gordon to where Bubby and Coomer are camping, afterall. No reasons else to do it, especially when they have time to wait for them to come back to civilization. Twelve years, in fact. 

Gordon can wait (he can forget, but in his book that’s the same as waiting, really), and he doesn’t begrudge Bubby and Coomer’s “honeymoon trip”, which has consisted thus far of them trampling about in ~~nature~~ , e.g. deep ends of the world that they do not and should not have access to, but somehow end up in anyway. Gordon only knew because Coomer’s grown fond of taking pictures, and once in a while if they get wifi he sends everyone some. The most memorable one was a pitch black square except for two dots of light in the distance, with the geotag pointing to them being in the Mariana trench. 

They’re having fun, and Darnold and Tommy take effort to “decontaminate” them between trips, as well as make them learn wildlife interaction guidelines (Bubby probably already knew, but he didn’t care, and still nobody’s sure if he cares now), so Gordon doesn’t mind. Has no reason to mind. Until now, but only a tiny bit. 

They decided to stop in a seaside town somewhere up North three days ago, and wifi’s spotty at best but Coomer still managed to send them pictures again - of him fighting a dolphin and Bubby making fun of a goat skeleton in a museum - and then Gordon got tired of staying up thinking about Xen at night and shot his shot. It took them another day to check their message again, and Bubby replied saying “don’t third wheel other people, weirdo” and Gordon just sighed and resigned himself to staying up way too late for another week or so. But then Benrey asked him to go to GameStop with him, which. Admittedly that was suspicious as hell, but Gordon reasoned Benrey knocked and asked to be let in the other day, so what the fuck, right. And then he stepped through the GameStop’s door, noticing the glass being darker than usual, and ended up on this piers where Bubby’s been trying to have a laugh at some poor fish’s expense.

Bubby made fun of him for third wheeling again, despite Benrey also being right there, and despite Coomer not even being there. 

“Did you guys have a fight or something?” Gordon asked, because maybe he can be a little bit spiteful. He’s allowed. 

“No,” Bubby grumbled. “Harold impressed Gregory with his punching power, so he’s invited to the Punching Tournament. I don’t like being in water for a long time so I stayed. Their sandwich’s not even good.” 

Gregory turned out to be the giant squid that lives a few kilometers off the shore, and another few kilometers under the sea level.

“I’m gonna issue an a-word ban, actually,” Gordon declares, when he comes back to where Bubby’s sitting on his journey to wear a track into the piers. “I think that’s more conducive to real conversations.” 

He’s being distracted, he knows. And maybe he’s letting himself be a bit distracted, so he can have a minute to improvise a script. Benrey just fast traveled him here, he did not prepare any materials, he doesn’t even have his notebook with him. That’s where all of his plans are! And his doodles. Mostly his doodles, but that’s a part of his thinking process, so he’s allowed. 

“Alright, Mister Fucking-Insane-Person,” Bubby shrugs.

“Doctor.”

“Oh, my bad! Doctor Fucking-Insane-Person.”

“Also that’s a ban dodge and you know it. Also you still don’t have any rights to call me anything! I refuse to submit in this matter.”

Bubby turns around fully to put his hand on crossed legs and stare at Gordon. “You sure, Gordon? Are you very sure about that, when you warp out of thin air to where I am missing my husband very much and not torturing fishes for fun, saying things about blowing Xen up ? Is that not ragingly absurd, Doctor ?” 

Gordon takes another deep breath. For his own benefit. For his own wellbeing. “Okay, one, Benrey warped me here, I was not responsible for that. Two, you’re trying to set fishes on fire, and your husband is punching more fishes while a giant squid cheers him on, probably. And three, which part of blowing Xen up is absurd, now? Feel free to elaborate on it. I’m all ears.”

“The very idea of it!” Bubby exclaims, accidentally shoving his fishing rod off the optimal position, chasing away the few fishes not shunned by his radiating malicious intent yet. “Who even thinks of that?”

“Me,” Gordon snaps back, “and you guys kinda ruined what ‘absurd’ even means at all for me, so don’t try me at it.”

Bubby shuts his mouth with a click, but his brows are still furrowed in the exact way that claims, loudly even if soundlessly, that he thinks that’s stupid.

“No, go on, Doctor Bubby,” Gordon presses. “You’ve got the quiz. Try your hand at it again, go ahead.”

“Alright, then, how are we even doing it? If we’re doing it. And there’s no we yet, mind you.” 

“I- okay.” Gordon holds his hands up. “I’ll admit I do not have the specifics yet. But logistically at least, it’s entirely possible. We’ll need,” he calculates a number real quick, “thirteen hundred pounds of column charge slurry, but if we have something high corrosive we can wrap up safely until detonation we’ll need even less. We can. Make that much. If we have Darnold’s help. We need access to Xen itself, which Tommy has the biggest chance to get. We’ll need to put the explosives deeper into the ground than surface level, so we’ll need to dig some holes, but with Doctor Coomer’s strength we can take care of that. And then we’ll need to trip it, and that might pose a problem in Xen’s climate, but we can manage a chemical fuse, or. Y’know. Just burn it hot enough to explode, which.” 

He ends that speech with a vague and a bit jerky wave of his hand towards Bubby. 

Bubby just blinks. “Huh.” 

Benrey snickers under his breath, either at a fish or at Bubby’s reaction, Gordon doesn’t know. He wouldn’t even be able to guess, since Benrey still has his back to the entire commotion.

Gordon catches himself holding his breath, so he consciously exhales slowly. It’s okay. It’s whatever. He has twelve years. He can take some detours if necessary. He can forget, even. Maybe.

“That Doctorate turns out to be for something, huh,” Bubby continues. “That does sound pretty plausible, afterall.”

“Huh,” Gordon’s turn to blink. “Wait, that’s it? You’re in now?” 

“Yeah, sure,” Bubby swings his arm out, “even though I’d like to be testy for a while longer, I also want to blow things up. Outside is very large, but it severely lacks opportunities to see things explode, so I’ll have to make it happen myself now.” 

That’s a tiny bit worrying, but Gordon’ll take it. He’s used to Bubby being a tiny bit worrying anyway. Wouldn’t be Bubby without it. 

“Now shoo,” Bubby turns around to fiddle with his fishing rod again, carefully moving it back to the optimal position, “you chased all the fishes off. Gonna have to start my work from the beginning now. It’s hard work tricking fishes, you know.” 

“Don’t tell Coomer,” Gordon warns, “I want to let him know myself.” 

“Sure, sure.” 

“I’m serious.”

“Aren’t you ever.” 

Gordon figures he’s done all he can on that front. 

Benrey catches up with him when he’s walked away dramatically for a few minutes and is now at the main street of the town. “Rudeman.”

Gordon did forget him at the piers, so that’s on him. “Sorry, but also, do you have a plan to get us home, or what? ‘Cause I don’t have my car and I’m not hitching a random ride if I can help it.” 

“Gotta... find a GameStop first. Score some Sports Champions 2 for the. PS3.” 

“Alright.” Gordon nods. “Wait, do you need a GameStop to transport us? Is that a thing?”

“Huh,” Benrey just looks at him, and then pulls out his brick phone.

Gordon rolls his eyes, but then catches a glimpse of the screen, and sees the digital clock. “It’s- fuck, it’s almost five! Joshua’s almost home.”

“Oh look, no GameStop on the… roadside. What’re we gonna do.”

“Benrey, you- goddamnit,” Gordon frantically pulls his phone out of his pocket. He tries to yank his right arm out of Benrey’s hold to hold it steady, but Benrey doesn’t yield. “Fucking, let me,” he unlocks it and finds Joshua’s number, which is on top, because he added ‘01’ before his name, because he’s had plenty of experiences with arranging files so they don’t disappear on him, “c’mon, c’mon… Hey Joshie! Are you at school right now?” 

“Hi Dad, yes,” Joshua answers, at the same time Gordon registers that he’s walking, Benrey pulling on his arm. 

“Sorry I called in the middle of class, buddy, but we’re gonna. I’m gonna be a bit late home, okay? I’m outside right now, but I’m on my way- oh, no, we.”

They’re in his living room. Gordon puts his arm, just released, on top of the couch. This is his couch. The bowl of cereal he finished right before Benrey dragged him out’s still on the table. The PS3 lays silent in the TV cabinet, as it’s always been. He does go around the table to put his free hand on all of these things just to be sure. 

“Dad?” Joshua asks from the other end of the line. “Are you okay?”

“I.” Gordon dry swallows. “No, yeah I- I got home. Me and Benrey were out for a bit and we got? Lost? But we found our way back, and I’m. I’m home now. I was really worried I wouldn’t make it back in time to open the door for you, so I called! But I’m home now.”

“That’s good!” Joshua says, even though Gordon can still hear worry in his voice. Sweet kid, his boy is. “Thank you for telling me in ad-advance.” 

“I’m sorry I interrupted your class. Dad’ll be more careful next time.” 

“It’s okay. What are we having tonight?” 

Gordon takes a deep breath, holds it in for a moment, and then breathes it out, slowly. “We can have mac and cheese again, or we can try our hand at naan and make some soup to go with it,” he says, willing his voice to calm down. “We still have the yeast Ms. Juney gave us last month, right? We can go get bread flour when you’re home.”

“Okay.”

“Go back to class, buddy. See you soon, yeah?”

“Yeah. Can we have chowder tonight too?” 

Gordon laughs. “We’ll look into it, but sure! If we can find the ingredients for it. Alright, bye now. Love you, honey.”

“Okay,” Joshua says again, and when Gordon’s about to move the phone from his ear, he adds, “Love you too, Dad.” And then he hangs up. 

Gordon goes to the couch and sits down. He’s maybe cradling his phone a bit. It’s still warm from him gripping on it way too hard. Deep breath in, deep breath out. 

“That went well, huh,” Benrey says, from the hallway. Gordon looks up to see him closing the door behind him, what looks like a copy of Sports Champions 2 for the PS3 in hand. 

Gordon laughs, again, for real this time. “That’s- where'd you even get that?

---

They did make naan, or a version of it. Joshua likes messing with flour, Gordon caught him walking his fingers through the bowl, leaving tiny “footprints”. They couldn’t agree on a fish to put in the chowder, so they shelved that plan and bought some canned beef-and-vegetables soup instead. The naan turned out… fine. They tasted enough like naan, and Gordon only burned like two. Which was maybe thanks to the apartment’s stove top burning a bit less hot than it did the last time they used it; Gordon made a mental note to check on the gas or. Whatever one does. When that happened. He just needed to look up a number, call it, and stand next to the (hopefully) professional who would come while they did their work. 

Benrey sat at the couch while the Freemans cooked and ate their dinner, either being on his phone or scrolling idly through the PS3’s library. Joshua asked if he could try and throw naan pieces into Benrey’s mouth from the kitchen table, which Gordon allowed, but with the preset limit of only three pieces, and the condition that he picked up the ones that missed himself. He then asked Benrey very politely if he could open his mouth to catch the bread, and then made a lot of mental calculations before throwing each piece. The first one missed, but the other two were snatched up by Benrey in a somewhat shark-like display, which Joshua clapped excitedly for. 

Gordon heard Benrey come to the kitchen table, which Joshua was wiping off with the designated kitchen rag (the fourth one this month alone; it feels like someone’s eating them as they’re replaced sometimes), while he was cleaning the dishes. “Hey lil’ gamer dude,” Benrey said, and Gordon could hear him rustle around in a pocket of his puffy vest. “Scored big in the. Minigame.”

“Thank you,” Joshua replied politely. 

“Here’s your price,” Benrey said. Gordon assumed Joshua was holding out his hands to receive whatever Benrey gave him, because he couldn’t hear any noise that thing made, just Joshua’s little excited gasp. 

“It’s like the... Intarna-Internation… nal… Space Station!” 

“Huh,” Gordon could hear Benrey blink, “that’s what it is…” 

“Yeah! These are, here, they’re solar panels! They charge the batteries in here.” 

“Nice.” 

“Thank you Benrey!” 

“Yeah, GG.” And then Benrey shuffled back to the couch, if Gordon interpreted the noises correctly. 

Joshua held onto the price trinket until he asked Gordon to put it in the tool cabinet, along with the cake moulds and decoration kit courtesy of Gordon’s hectic MIT years. It was… Gordon could see why Joshua thought that was where it should go. It could be considered a cookie cutter, if the shape weren’t kinda suboptimal for a cookie. It also did look like the ISS, with wings and all. 

Nobody in this household’s baked anything sweet in this apartment for at least a year, but. Well. Never say no to free, reusable stuff.

  Gordon’s phone vibrates when he’s just sat down at the kitchen table again, a mug of garbage instant coffee in hand. He abandons it to go get his phone from where it’s charging on the living room table.

It’s Coomer. “It’s Coomer,” Gordon says out loud. “That’s weird- he’s. He doesn’t call.” 

“He’s calling. Now.” Benrey says from where he’s sitting, on the couch. Gordon takes a deep breath and doesn’t deign it worth a rebuttal. He accepts the call instead.

“Hello Gordon! I heard you want to blow Xen up.” 

Gordon pinches the bridge of his nose. “Bubby told you.” 

“He did! In great details!”

“I- alright, whatever, I didn’t expect actual results with that one anyway.” Gordon remembers about his coffee. He comes back to where it’s waiting for him on the kitchen table, and takes himself a generous sip, letting it burn his mouth. “Fuck!” He sets the cup down maybe a bit forcefully. “Oh that’s a bad decision. What did- what did he tell you?” 

Coomer takes a moment to gather his thoughts, leaving a blank minute where sounds of the wind and waves on the shore come through his mic. Gordon hopes he isn’t thinking about sleeping out there tonight, for the full nature flavor or whatever. “ A large part of his speech was about explosion! And how big and grand it would be. And also about how much he fucking hates Xen!” 

“Glad we agree on that front,” Gordon mumbles. 

“So am I! I also fucking hate Xen!” 

“That’s. That’s fair, really, it’s a garbage place. But- did he, like. Have you heard anything about the actual plan? Did he tell you anything about the actual plan I definitely mentioned to him?”

Coomer pauses for another moment, probably to recall. “Nope! Not a word about a plan-”

“I fucking knew it,” Gordon mumbles.

 “-though that is very thorough of you, Gordon!”

"Okay, listen,” Gordon picks his mug of coffee up and starts pacing. “I actually don’t… have all of it yet. I know me and Benrey are in,” he flicks his gaze to Benrey again, who does nothing to deny the statement, “and Bubby’s now in as well. I still need to- okay, the plan’s basically that we find or make enough explosive for the ten asteroids on Xen, we bury it at the core of said asteroids, and we blow that up so it blows Xen up. I have- I don’t know the specifics of how to make that much explosive yet, but I’ll convince Darnold somehow, and if he sits this one out then we’ll borrow his lab when he’s not using it. And I’ll ask Tommy about a way back to Xen, his. His dad’s done that plenty. He doesn’t seem to like Xen much, right? That’s the impression I got, so we can spin this into us doing him a favor or something. And then we transport the explosive to Xen, I can borrow a truck for that, I know someone, and then we dig into the ground there, that’s where we can really use your superstrength, and then we put the explosive in and. Set it on fire. Bubby, uh, agreed to take care of that.” 

Another beat of silence follows Gordon’s speech. He seems to have been making that one a lot recently, mostly to himself, in his room, while writing things down in his notebook. He finds himself chewing on his own lip, so he makes himself stop and takes another gulp of the coffee, which has thankfully cooled down to gulp-appropriate temperature.

When Coomer speaks again, he seems to have chosen his words carefully. “I will need to ‘sleep’ on this, Gordon. You are right in your assessment that you do not have your plan together yet!”

Gordon takes a deep breath. “It’s okay,” he says, as much to Coomer as to himself. “It’s true. It’s half-thought up right now. I still need to figure out- figure out Darnold and Tommy and Mr. Coolatta. I, yeah,” his voice’s dropped to a mumble by now, “I think I need to sleep on it too.” 

“Gordon.” The rustles that accompany Coomer’s voice gives the impression that he’s sitting down onto the pebble-littered beach as he speaks. “I would like to see Xen obliterated, and I think we can get it done.”

“That’s,” Gordon stops on his pacing in the kitchen, “That’s not. It’s okay if you’re not interested, Coomer. You don’t have to walk it back on me.”

“Please do not question my fucking hatred for Xen, Gordon.”

“O-okay.”

“But I am not in favor of hazy dreams anymore. I have gotten to see a lot during my ‘honeymoon’, and now I have broken free, and mere words on a script cannot placate me. I would like to see proof that it’s possible before I participate.” 

Gordon takes a deep breath. “Okay.”

“I believe you can do it, Gordon!”

“Thank you,” Gordon says, a little bit dazed, while Bubby’s voice comes through from a distance at the same time, “Are you reciting poetry again?” 

“In what distant deeps or skies, burnt the fire of thine eyes?” Coomer answers. “On what wings dare he aspire? What the hand, dare seize the fire?”

“Stop praising that tiger while I’m right here!” 

“I’ll,” Gordon says before Coomer can get fully caught up in Bubby’s antics again, “I’ll come back to you with. The details. When I’ve hashed it out. Thanks for,” he exhales, “thanks for holding out for me, Coomer.” 

“So it is, Gordon, so it will be!” 

Coomer hangs up there, and Gordon sits down at the kitchen table again. He finishes the mug of coffee in one long gulp. It’s gone a little bit more room-temperature than he likes. 

“Sleep on it,” he mumbles, “good advice.” 

“You should. Do that.” Benrey says from the couch. “Sleep good for body for soul.” 

“You know what, when you’re right,” Gordon says, and stands up and goes brush his teeth. He then sits down at his work table and writes down questions until four in the morning.

---

Gordon used to suck at making phone calls. He’s kind of a champion at it now.

Funny thing is there’s an epiphany to it as well: he didn’t grow up with cell phones, so making phone calls was a hierarchical thing for him until he was like. Twenty years old. Kids used the landline when absolutely necessary only, and adults used it whenever they damn well pleased, because they paid for it and they had businesses to take care of . And Gordon was… not much of a rule breaker, surprisingly enough. Oh he fell short of where rules lay plenty, but he didn’t really intentionally break them. So he took calls when his parents said he could and when he absolutely needed to, and that habit persisted well into his adulthood. 

He might also just be not very good at holding his tongue when speaking and. That was no good for phone calls. Kiddies phone calls. ‘cause he just realized one day that adults said whatever the fuck they wanted on the phone really, and nobody chastised them for it, no divine punishment, no sudden death round. 

A sermon on self-love, that was; Gordon just takes phone calls now. Worst case scenario, he just turns his brain off and lets his mouth do its work. When people don’t presume they know better than him, they don’t presume he’s talking out of his ass ninety percent of the time. 

That’s- that’s what he thought. Gordon’s wrong, a little bit. He can be wrong. Has been wrong plenty before. He can correct himself, here, he’s gonna do it right now: worst case scenario, he has to recite his plan, conceived so far in total isolation from anyone he knows and whose opinions he cares about, to the person who’s the most skittish and averse to what his plan is bringing about among those people, over the phone, where he can’t see and gauge body language and facial expressions. 

Gordon would… like to meet Darnold face to face for this. But. It’s work. It’s, well, it’s closer to work than to play, given that he’s gotten mildly stressed out over it, and their lunch at the only Taco Bell in the whole desert is strictly pleasant, not-work talk only. And Gordon really, really enjoys those lunch dates, because he never has to think about damage control or having an identity crisis in the middle of one. They’re just nice, normal, a tiny bit shouty (the Taco Bell is usually packed and the acoustic’s not good, but it’s a Taco Bell, and it’s a ritual now), mostly jovial, lunch with a friend, eating subpar food he’s learned to enjoy. They don’t talk about what happened at Black Mesa, they don’t talk about work in general, they don’t even talk about soda outside of appraising the gaudy color combinations for any new sponsored drink. They talk about Joshua, about Darnold’s cat Lumbar Support, about Coomer and Bubby’s travelling, about new game releases, about Sega vs. Nintendo, about the weather. 

Gordon doesn’t want to fall short of where the rules lie, not this time. So he calls. 

“Doctor Freeman?” Darnold answers with the title, which sets the tone pretty well. Gordon takes a deep breath and steels himself. 

“Doctor Pepper.” He pauses. “Darnold. Hey. I, uh, I’ve got a thing I wanna ask.” 

“Go ahead!” Darnold goes quiet for a moment, to finish his sandwich, Gordon’d guess. He’s called in the middle of Darnold’s lunch break. “I must preface however that we’re working outside of office hours, and I can only advise you at the moment. Anything further will have to go through the… official channels.”

“Okay, that’s alright. I just.” Gordon worries his lips. He realizes he’s tugging pretty hard on his left sleeve; he makes himself let go. “I have a. Plan. That’ll need your expertise.” 

“I’d be delighted to help then! Feel free to share more.” 

“It’s about, uh.” Gordon takes another deep breath. He’s been consuming a lot of oxygen recently. “IwanttoblowXenup?”

Darnold goes, predictably, quiet for a moment. It doesn’t sting less when it’s predictable.

When he speaks again, it’s in a clipped, professional-but-barely tone. “Please say that again, but slowly.”

Gordon closes his eyes against the sunlight streaming in from the window in his bedroom. “I want to. Blow Xen up.” 

“Gordon,” Darnold sighs. “Doctor Freeman.” 

“I know.”

“Your megalomaniacal tendencies have grown since we last met.”

“It’s not- I’m not doing it for fun!” Gordon throws his free arm up. “Okay, this is genuinely a lot of effort and stress for something I’d do for pleasure, Darnold. I also couldn’t care less about fucking Xen - okay that’s not true, I’ve lost like a week of sleep over blowing it up, that’s not not caring, but like. I can’t. I need it to not be there,” he stands up from his bed and starts pacing, “and I have. A plan. Half of one. About that much. So it’s not hopeless-”

“Gordon, please slow down.”

“-as long as I have your help and- and Tommy’s, okay, I will. uh.” He taps on his thigh with his free hand too, for good measure. Go the whole nine yard with fidgeting, why not. “I. So, Joshua wants to be an astronaut,” he intones, and for the first time in a while he’s reminded again of how this started, how it took over his life for a hot minute, and it almost gives him the hiccups, “and. Y’know. Xen is in space. So it needs to not be there anymore. So I want to. Blow it up.” 

Darnold goes silent again. Gordon thinks he can hear the epiphany punch the air out of him. Fuck, he hates phone calls. 

“As much as I want to berate you about how you’re treating this matter and yourself,” Darnold resumes primly after a moment, “my lunch break is ending in exactly fifty-two seconds, and this sandwich will take me another two bites to get through. I’ll see you in the Taco Bell’s parking lot at three AM this afternoon, Gordon. Drink water.”

He hangs up. Gordon goes drink water.

Benrey clips into the apartment when Gordon’s on his third mug of iced water. “Whoa, hydration streak,” he says, settling himself on the kitchen table. 

“I can go a bit crazy,” Gordon mumbles. “I’m allowed a little bit of funk and insanity. This is my house.” 

“It’s… actually. MFA’s.” 

Gordon groans. “Don’t fucking remind me. I tried to forget that. Also it actually belongs to the NRC, since they apparently can just scare MFA into giving employees housing, which I’m really fucking horrified by, but I’m choosing to not think about it, and you can’t make me.” 

“It can be mine soon.”

“Do not attack and dethrone Nils Diaz.”

Benrey huffs. “Killjoy Freeman.” He shifts his pose so he’s sitting up straighter. “You wanna… try out Premium Water? Free trial for a week, you can manually cancel your. Subscription. After.” 

Gordon stares at him. “What’s Premium Water.” 

Benrey opens his jaws, wide, showing his teeth. He points inside as if there’s anything Gordon wants to find at all in there at the moment. Then he closes it with a click and stares back at Gordon. 

Gordon just sighs. “No, Benrey.” 

“Guaranteed beddy bye time, no charge,” Benrey blinks at him. “Black Mesa Sweet Voice™ a hundred percent effective. Five stars… satisfaction… rating.” 

“You’re fucking lying, because I’d never leave it five stars. You get three at best.” 

“Gonna catch you when you fall off the. Chair. Gonna be romantic.”

Gordon laughs. “No, not allowed.” He sighs and finishes the mug of water like it’s mead and he’s some Dungeons and Dragons elven ranger. He gives himself brain freeze. “Ah, fuck, oof,” he slaps his own forehead, “bad decision. Bad decision. Okay, I. I appreciate you asking instead of just going for it, but that’s the reality of asking, right? The person you ask can say no. And you’ve just gotta learn how to deal with it.”

Benrey just keeps staring at him, but he’s used to that now. It’s only a tiny bit unnerving. “How’s learning’s... satisfaction rate.”

Gordon sighs again. “It sucks ass. Fucking hate learning.” 

Benrey grins at him, and then he checks his phone and it’s already time to go.

“Drink this,” Darnold says immediately when Gordon climbs into the shotgun seat of his car, and holds out a beaker of bubbling purple liquid. 

Gordon just stares at it. “Darnold, what is this.” 

Darnold sighs. “It’s the Potion of Not Telling. I also drank a sample before coming here,” he holds up an empty beaker with some of the same purple liquid at the bottom. “It blows us up if we tell our employers what we’re up to.” 

Gordon ponders this very carefully. “Does. Tommy, for example. Does he count as my ‘employer’?” 

“No,” Darnold says. “‘Employers’ only cover people and/or establishments you’re currently under an employee contract with and receiving salary from.” 

“Alright,” Gordon intones carefully, and downs the whole beaker. It tastes like… the jello packaged like seahorses Tommy brings over sometimes. The red ones, specifically. It makes him feel a bit bloated, immediately, and he rubs his side a bit anxiously when he sits down in the car. “You’re actually under NDAs at all times, huh,” he says, as an opening line.

“Same as you, Gordon.” Darnold takes the beaker back from Gordon’s hand and puts it in with the other one. “Black Mesa seeked me out and offered to find me a position in a brewery, as well as fund any of my independent ventures, as long as I do not say a word about what… transpired… back there. The official record’s that I was stranded on an island with curious dino-esque creatures for four years, instead of worked in Black Mesa’s mixology department, and honed my craft with their help, using the fruits native to that island.”

Gordon laughs, and rubs his face with the prosthetic hand. It’s like putting your face on the car’s dashboard. “Sounds like them alright. At least yours sounds exciting, instead of fucking insane. They said I was ‘chasing an entropy in the desert’ and it ‘ate my hand’. What the fuck does that even mean?”

“We attempted feats of miracle, only it was not under their accountability,” Darnold says, “and we were punished for it. No matter, we have more important things at hand. What is this plan you’ve cooked up, Gordon?”

Gordon takes a deep breath, finding it easier than it’s been for a while, and relays what he’s got down of the blow-Xen-up plan to Darnold. They never look at each other meanwhile, both staring at the cars lined up haphazardly in the lane across from them, Gordon in a barren calmness as words leave his mouth, Darnold with his arms crossed in front of his chest, his whole presence compacted into a contemplative, silent piece. 

“That is an intense reaction to a faraway threat, Gordon,” Darnold says when Gordon’s speech is over. “Xen is not only at least a galaxy away, but also a few dimensions over, if I understand the briefing right. I haven’t thought about that wretched place for almost a year.”

“Sorry,” Gordon says, not really feeling any of it, but making the effort. 

“You don’t have to. I understand where you’re coming from.” Darnold taps idly on his own arm. “I was… extracted… swiftly from Black Mesa after I met you and your friends. I did not witness what happened after, but I saw… enough.” He takes a deep breath as well. “We can all have intense reactions to anything.” 

“Doesn’t mean it’s not maladaptive,” Gordon says. He’s gone to therapy. It was really good for helping him build a system that filters out the things that actually fucks him up and makes some sense of the rest, but it doesn’t lift him out of the comedy of his life itself. It can’t. That’s not what therapy’s for. 

“Indeed,” Darnold says. “But I can’t be the judge of that. My domain lies with potion mixing, and I dare say I am a true expert at it, but I can’t claim expertise at other people’s life. Especially not yours.”

“I get it,” Gordon nods. The world kinda bobs a tiny bit when he does that. “I. Know not to indulge my impulse mostly. But sometimes decisions come back to haunt me, and those are usually just about choosing one furniture over another, or tying my shoelaces in the bunny ears way instead of the circle way and having them undone in the middle of a meeting and stepping on them and falling on my face, but this time it’s. It’s Joshua’s life. And there’s just no limit anymore to what can happen, not since.” He swallows. “Black Mesa.” 

Darnold nods. 

Gordon blinks. “I know it’s a little bit crazy.” 

“It might be,” Darnold says, “but as a famous mixologist once said: nothing ventured, nothing gained. Even if that gain is just your peace of mind.” 

Gordon lets out the breath he isn’t even aware he’s been holding. “Thank you.” 

“You do not need to,” Darnold smiles, “I do stand to gain from this as well, since I really need to test this flavouring that’s supposed to land on pleasantly tart on the taste scale but goes into intestine-destroyingly sour territory instead. I need to know what makes it that corrosive, and testing on humans is entirely unethical.” 

---

Gordon got home before Joshua. Benrey’s also not home. He lays down on the couch and takes a nap. 

He wakes to a quilt over most of him, light turned on in the living room and in the kitchen, and silent chatter. His sense of smell kicks in a minute or so into him still laying on the couch, blinking up at the ceiling; he smells fish sauce and sugar cooking. 

“Tommy’s over,” he mumbles. 

“He awakes,” Benrey says, seemingly into thin air. Gordon feels the couch shift minutely as Benrey makes to stand up from where he’s sitting leaning back on it. “Good eatin’. I’ll go get the. Food. Coloring.” 

When Gordon’s gathered enough of himself to sit up, Benrey’s nowhere to be seen. Tommy’s shifting something animatedly on the stove, while Joshua carefully carries one bowl at a time to the kitchen table. 

“Hey Dad!” Joshua says when he catches Gordon’s eyes. He puts the bowl he’s carrying down to free his hand for waving. Gordon waves back. 

“Hey Joshie, hey Tommy. What’re you guys making?” 

“Caramelized pork b-belly!” Tommy says from his stove station. “And... sautéed vegetable medley.” 

“With rice!” Joshua adds.

“A perfectly balanced meal.” 

“I picked the vege-ta-bles!” 

Gordon folds the quilt to busy his hands. This one’s definitely not his. He may have one somewhere in the closet, but it hasn’t made an appearance in… six months. He thinks. “What did you get for us, buddy?” 

“Carrot!” Joshua holds up a finger. “It has a lot of vita- vitamin… A.” 

“Awesome,” Gordon says and goes over to the kitchen table to high five Joshua. “What else did you choose?” 

“String beans!” 

“Oh?” Joshua hasn’t been much for that. 

“Uncle Tommy’s gonna teach me how to eat them!” 

“A dash of- of flavour, packed in one Kn●rr’s Complete Seasoning packet, is all you’ll need!” Tommy switches to a lower voice when Gordon peers over his shoulder at the pan on the stove. “That is not true. Kn●rr is only… fit to be- be on the floor.” 

“Are- you’re not putting that in then?” 

“No, I just use salt and pepper.” 

Joshua giggles. Tommy extends a hand that Joshua can slap on in place of a high five. 

Gordon gets out the utensils - spoon for Joshua, chopsticks for him and Tommy - and brings the rice cooker to the table once the light’s jumped to orange. He plates the pork, scooping Joshua’s helping into his personal plate first, while Tommy finishes with the vegetables. Tommy lets Joshua choose which vegetables to go on his plate; Joshua bravely gets a little bit of everything. 

They eat dinner on top of companionable conversation, Gordon and Tommy taking turns asking Joshua about school and other things. 

“I heard you want to- to be an astronaut,” Tommy asks. Joshua dutifully finishes his mouthful before answering. 

“Yes! I want to go to space!”

“Do you want to meet- aliens?”

“Yeah!” Joshua’s excitement cools down a little bit as he scoops up another spoonful of rice with a piece of string bean carefully balanced on top. “I read the Wiki-pea-dia about it though. They say there’s no dis-discernable e-vidence of aliens yet. We sent the Voyager Golden Records an’ they haven’t… answered yet.” 

“That’s how p-physical mails are,” Tommy smiles while getting himself a piece of the caramelized pork. “It used to take… weeks... before we hear from our friends who are far away. And the- the universe doesn’t have a… an Everywhere Wifi Network yet.” 

Joshua shares a conspiratory look with Gordon and mouths not yet . Gordon laughs. Gordon’s clutching his bowl maybe a bit too tight. 

“You can become an astronaut and- meet aliens. In space,” Tommy waves his chopsticks with a flourish. 

“I’ll teach them what- what e-mails are!” 

“It’ll take a- a lot of hard work, and you have to be able to eat string beans.” Tommy takes an exaggerated look at Joshua’s plate, now cleaned of food. “Oh! Would you l-look at that! Mister Joshua Freeman is… perfect astronaut materials, according to… the NASA guidelines.” 

Joshua beams with a pride that knocks something loose in Gordon’s chest. 

They finish dinner and clean up together, then Gordon sends Joshua back to his room to do his homework, agreeing to an hour of video game after if he can get it done before nine. Gordon cleans the dishes while Tommy puts the kettle on and makes them both hot chocolate. 

“I bought some-something for Joshua today,” Tommy prompts. Gordon looks back to see him hold up the exact same cookie-cutter-thing Benrey gave Joshua the other day. 

“Oh- oh my god.” Gordon laughs. “Holy shit?” 

“Wh-what’s the matter, Gordon?”

“Do you guys have like a hivemind or something?” Gordon pulls off a glove to open the tool cabinet and pull Benrey’s gift out. “Benrey gave Joshua this. I don’t even- what’re these supposed to be? Where d’you guys even get them from?” 

“It’s the- International Space Station Biscuit Cutter!” Tommy puffs out his chest, slightly indignant, but definitely bemused as well. “They’re issued by- NASA, cut from the s-scrap metal of the hulls of… prototype spaceships. They’re very rare!”

Gordon stares at the one in his hand. “And now we have two of them.” 

“They’re… very valuable! You can sell them for a high price.” 

Gordon smiles. He puts Benrey’s apparently rare and expensive gift back into the tool cabinet and puts the glove back on. “You’ve gotta ask Joshua about that. It’s for him, afterall.” 

They fall into a comfortable silence, crumbled into grains only by the click-clack of dishes in the sink and the water running from the faucet. Gordon weaves himself into a solid piece of nerve, bracing, bracing. 

Tommy’s… better acquainted with the crazies of these things than most, maybe. He’s apparently said “fuck it” to the administrative work that his dad would’ve liked to hand back to him at one point, and just. Got a PhD in nuclear physics instead. Gordon’s been through something like that, and from experience he can tell that it would’ve taken real nerve to do it. He also can tell that no matter what it still rubs off on you, and you don’t recover from that kinda consistent exposure to idiosyncrasies, because you don’t ever feel like there’s anything to recover from , really. It’s just how it is, and the world’s off-kilter, not you. Like Benrey, Tommy’s world runs on a different axis, and he and the rest of them are, in many ways, looking both through strange eyes. 

Gordon’s a little bit jealous of that. He’s honestly not sure if he can ever fully get Tommy, but then. Plenty of people never get him, and here he is. He can learn to wear it as well as Tommy, one day. 

Right now though. Tommy’s important to the plan. Gordon knows that, in a theoretical way. Ha, theoretical… 

“I would like to not be insane,” Gordon says, more to himself, at the same time as Tommy setting his cup of hot chocolate down and saying, “Benrey… told me.” 

“Oh… I. That’s? Good?” 

“Wha- you’re not insane , Gordon!” Tommy waves his hand. Gordon can hear it, even if he can’t see it. “You’re… creative.” 

“Thanks Tommy,” Gordon says with a huff of laughter that he doesn’t think reaches Tommy at all. “I. I get it though. I got Bubby to turn around on it, but everyone else did say that it’s a little bit fucked up that I thought of doing that at all.” 

“But they… agreed on helping you anyway.” 

Gordon taps on the metal wall of the sink. “That’s… yeah. Well, other than Coomer.” 

“Doctor Coomer doesn’t think you’re crazy,” Tommy protests. “He just has... boundaries.” 

“That’s fair. He’s allowed that. He more than deserves that.” Gordon blinks. “Wait- why am I arguing down on my side? I need you to be on board for the plan to work.” He laughs, bowing down over the sink. He’s shaking a little bit. “Wow. I’m a little bit gone. Can I be a little bit gone?” 

“You’re… totally allowed, Gordon” He feels Tommy tug on his elbow. With a deep breath, he lets go of where he’s gripping on the edge of the sink with white knuckles, and lets Tommy lead him to the kitchen table. He dutifully sits himself down on a chair, lets Tommy take off the gloves, and holds the cup of hot chocolate Tommy pushes into his hands carefully. “It’s your house.” 

“It’s MFA’s.” 

“It’s yours,” Tommy says, determinedly, and Gordon takes a deep breath and sidesteps every implications that has. “You can have your fears, and… and your plans, and your hopes. For Joshua. It’s your place, Gordon.” 

Gordon takes a shaky sip of the hot chocolate. Tommy puts on the gloves and finishes washing the dishes for him. 

“Sorry,” Gordon says, mostly aiming at the dishes thing, but. He also just kinda wants to put that out there. 

“There’s nothing to be… be sorry for,” Tommy replies, amidst the noises of the dishes and the water running. 

Tommy talks while Gordon drinks his hot chocolate; in the end, whether he wants to or not, he’s accepted a bit of the job the Gman holds. Gordon knows this, that’s how Tommy vouched for and kept the Science Team from a much worse fate than relative freedom except for a story no sane man’d believe anyway. Mister Coolatta Senior seemed to be impressed by the choice, aside from all the worries that come with it. 

“He’s… he’s proud of me,” Tommy says, softly. “I know he only wants what’s best for me.” 

“He’s been awfully accommodating,” Gordon says, remembering about the movie night they had after Tommy’s birthday bash last year. That man pulled a gun on him. As if he’d walk out on Tommy, if Tommy’d asked for him to stay around. 

“He… doesn’t involve me… with his problems,” Tommy says. “Some parents do that.” 

Gordon can’t find anything to say to that, so he finishes his hot chocolate. 

“I got a vote when they brought Xen up the-the other day,” Tommy says, when the dishes have all been cleaned and put on the rack to dry. He pulls out the chair next to Gordon and picks up his cup of hot chocolate. It’s still steaming, somehow. “I-they were thinking it was- it’s too risky to leave a bridging point open like that. They want to… demolish it.” 

Gordon chuckles, and then it becomes a full body laugh, and then he’s curling up on himself, the empty cup between his hands. He shouldn’t clutch it like this, it might break. He’s broken the handle off of a mug before, when one of his old prosthetic wasn’t calibrated perfectly. He can’t stop laughing though. Not enough to let go of the cup now. 

“Holy shit,” he wheezes. “holy motherfucking shit. We’re doing it. We’re doing it? Xen’s fucking going down.” 

“It sure is!” Tommy says, and claps a polite golf clap for Gordon’s victory.

---

Gordon does have shit he needs to do for the online classes he teaches, but outside of it he’s still way too idle. He and Joshua go to the aquarium and the museum whenever the schedule works out, and once in a while they drive by Roswell to catch a plane taking off into the sky, and he does grocery runs and tries to clean around the house and do laundry on a timetable, and there’s always the PS3 Benrey dragged back that’s now public good, as well as his probably too long Steam list, but. Gordon’s shit at talking himself into and out of doing things. Sometimes it just doesn’t feel right to start doing something, so there’s a black hole of time between him thinking “I should get to this” and him actually doing it. And Joshua’s life isn’t just him; his son’s going to school now, and he’s made friends at school, and he talks to them on the phone and goes hang out with them on weekend afternoons.

Gordon’s not as good at holding onto time anymore, now that things’ve. Changed. 

So figuring the explosives out’s been good for him. It’s just what he does back in uni again, except without a supervisor, without having to write anything down properly (just legibly’s enough), and without peer review. It’s mostly math, but with the spirit of two middle schoolers stealing sodium crumbs from the school lab to throw into puddles. It’s closer to play than he expected. Closer than playing Horse Simulator 3D on the PS3. 

He and Darnold spend the day building the corrosion rate equation, pouring Darnold’s concoction on rocks Gordon figures have the same make-up as the ground on Xen. Benrey doesn’t bring the venture up often, but every other day Gordon finds clumps of dirt and random rocks that weigh suspiciously little for their size in his glove compartment. He brings those in for the pour test as well, and they build a simulation based on them. 

Balancing the corrosion with the heat’s a bit tricky; Gordon needs to know how hot Bubby’s ignition can go, since their number’s high. He was about to shoot Bubby a call when Coomer’s latest photo arrived. Gordon recognized the street in it. 

They put the project on hold for an afternoon so Tommy and Darnold can have the lab to decontaminate Coomer and Bubby. Gordon spends that afternoon getting the air fryer he ordered last week out of the box while Benrey reads the manual out loud wrongly. He calls Joshua to let him know they’re having guests over that evening, thankfully in the middle of the school recess this time. Gordon tries to remember Joshua’s exact timetable at school, he really does. It’s just not fruitful a task.

When Joshua arrives home, Gordon’s in the middle of arguing with Bubby over how much water’s left in air fried food. “Hey Granpa! Hey Bubby!” Joshua waves at Coomer and Bubby, “hey Uncle Tommy! Hey Doctor Darnold! Hey Benrey! Hey Dad!” 

Gordon steals the chance to close the air fryer while Bubby’s joining in with the “Hey Joshua!” chorus and distracted. “We’re making spring rolls and egg rolls!” He calls after Joshua, who’s in his room putting his backpack away. “You can choose the filling yourself!” 

The kitchen barely fits everyone, so comes dinnertime they move the living room table up next to the TV cabinet to make space for the spare straw mat, and lay out a tablecloth on top for good measure (Gordon’s had enough experience to remember to do that). They sit on the floor in the living room together, almost shoulder to shoulder, and at some point the conversation gets away from Gordon entirely. He just nods when Joshua points at something he wants and gets some in the bowl for him. 

“I’ve heard somebody wants to become an astronaut,” He hears Coomer say at one point. 

Joshua puffs out his chest proudly. 

“Doesn’t everybody at some point,” Bubby says. “I wanted to be an astronaut too, when I was forty.”

“Oh I have seen the photos,” Coomer continues, a gentle light in his eyes, “It is very beautiful out there.” 

Joshua asks for help with his homework after dinner, and Tommy and Darnold sit down with him for that. Benrey joins Gordon at the sink while he’s pouring dish soap into one of the large bowls they used. He doesn’t know what to do but blink at him, dumbfounded. 

“Check this out,” Benrey says, and spits lime green into the sink. When the light clears, the dishes have become spotless. 

Gordon stares at the sink. “I- you- th- is that- you can do that? ” He points at the plates. leaning on the sink’s edge. 

Benrey grins. “New… new skill acquired bro. Just got the EXP for it.” 

“You spent your EXP on dish cleaning ?” 

“We should conserve water, Gordon!” Coomer declares from behind him next to the kitchen table. “Water shortage is caused by corporate greed, but with certain individual actions we can improve the situation ourselves!” 

“Please don’t kill Mark Schneider.” 

“Worry not, Doctor Freeman! His death will not be by my hand directly!” 

Gordon laughs, helplessly. “Everything happens so much,” he laments, only semi-jokingly, as he takes off the cleaning gloves and puts the plates on the rack. 

“Keep up, Doctor Freeman,” Bubby says. 

“They certainly do,” Coomer says, much more nicely. “I’ve heard your plan is soon coming to fruition!” 

Gordon nods. “Yeah, it’s. Yeah. We were,” he swallows, “Darnold and I, we were about to ask for Bubby to let us test his fire. Figure out if he can reach the ignition point we need.” 

“Well now, that sounds like a challenge,” Bubby says. 

Gordon finds a price tag still stuck on one of the bowls that he’s very sure wasn’t there when it was brought out. “Benrey,” he groans. Benrey just gives him a shit eating grin. “You’ll need to hold a temperature for about three minutes, and then the mixture takes care of the rest,” he says to Bubby, while swatting Benrey on the shoulder. 

“Just three minutes, isn’t it.” 

“Do not try and stay for more. I’m serious. When it explodes it’s gonna turn seriously corrosive. You’re gonna be sludge ten seconds after it gets on you.” 

Gordon can hear Bubby blink. “Oh- oh. This is serious huh. We are blowing Xen up.” 

“We are, darling,” Coomer affirms. 

Bubby shifts on his chair. “I’ll need. A minute.” 

When Gordon’s done with the dishes, he turns back to the kitchen table to catch Bubby letting go of Coomer after a hug. “Son of a bitch, you went for it, you motherfucker,” Bubby says, a bit too loudly, fixing his glasses. 

Benrey sings a very high note over his voice. “Language!” Gordon hisses. 

“Oh, sorry.” Bubby pats his own mouth. “Forgive a man, I’m still working through it.” He switches to a mumble, seemingly only to himself. “It’s real. I’m gonna set Xen on fire. Gonna show Black Mesa what for. It’s really gonna happen…”

Coomer pats Bubby on the back lightly, making him almost hit his face on the table. “We’ll finally move fully away from the game, my dear Professor,” he says, and he’s smiling. He’s smiling very wide. 

“I can be your Professor,” Bubby mumbles. “I can blow Xen up.” 

“ We can blow Xen up,” Gordon corrects him. “Me and Darnold didn’t agonize over a- darn modifier for a week and a half so you can set our work on fire and take all the credits.” 

“Hush, let me process things, you rude bastard.” Benrey censors bastard with another burst of pinkish light.

“I can see the other end,” Coomer says, cheerfully. “Now, Gordon, I’ve heard you need help digging into the core of a few asteroids?” 

---

They mark a date for the excursion. 

He ‘woke up’ early, and made himself and Joshua an actual breakfast for a change while Benrey finished off the box of cereal that was open. “Dad’s got a work thing coming up,” he told Joshua while scooping extra egg onto his plate. “I’m gonna have to stay on site for a night.” 

“So you’re not going home tonight?” Joshua asked, taking the plate handed to him by Gordon, but making no move to go back to his chair. 

Gordon nodded. “I’ll be home tomorrow though, but you’re gonna have to stay at your grandparents’ tonight. I’m gonna come pick you up at their place tomorrow afternoon. You should pack a spare change of clothes and your pajamas to bring to school.” 

“Okay,” Joshua said. And then, “What’re you staying on-site for?” 

“I’m,” Gordon said, “Okay, you can’t tell anyone this, yeah? I’m blowing asteroids up.” 

He could see Joshua’s eyes brighten. It was visible . “ In space ?” 

“Yes,” Gordon laughed. “But it’s very experimental, which means…” 

“It’s not ready for the public eye yet,” Joshua whispered, almost reverently.

Gordon laughed again, and took off the mitten on his hand to ruffle Joshua’s hair. “You’re gonna be okay staying at your grandparents’ place? If you don’t like that I can ask someone else to come over instead.” 

“It’s okay,” Joshua said, finally content to go sit down again. “Can I bring my skate shoes?” 

“Sure thing, put them in a bag.” 

Gordon called Joshua’s grandparents to let them know to pick him up at five (Joshua chimed in to ask them to remind him about the roller skates), and then Joshua got his backpack and spare clothes and bag for the shoes and the house was once again vacant. 

They don’t have a vehicle, but Tommy sings and Bubby joins in and Darnold keeps a beat and after a while Benrey starts playing songs out of the shitty speaker on his phone. Gordon’s even spent the day before sleepless, but that’s kind of everyday now. He hadn’t anticipated having to get used to a day having twenty four hours again, but well. He hadn’t anticipated anything while going through Black Mesa, really. It wasn’t really ideal thinking-far-ahead environment.

Benrey seems bouncier when he’s on Xen. Gordon didn’t think about it, but when he steps through the portal he has a flash of that image from what feels like a lifetime ago: Benrey giant as the Earth itself, blocking everything else in sight, his form longing to catch up with his already immense, oppressive presence. Taller than any walls, any mountains, any barriers between himself and a measly human’s fleeting existence.

Gordon shakes his head. At his least incomprehensible, Benrey’s said it was “a show”. “Like. Cable TV. A television series,” Gordon’s asked. 

“Like a cutscene,” Benrey’s replied, as if Gordon was the one too slow for the course. 

Benrey now felt nothing like whatever that was that happened to him and the Science Team last year. Benrey now felt just… like a dude. Doing a barrel roll, while saying “Ooooo barrel roll” with a straight face. While his Nokia 2700’s still crushing whatever song it’s playing into oblivion. 

Gordon doesn’t deal in implications anymore, so he starts singing along to whatever everyone else’s singing as well, and focuses on carrying their homemade Xen-specific dynamite blocks to where they’re going to dig their largest hole into the core of this wretched piece of rock.

It takes a day, kind of; he doesn’t sleep, out here in the thin atmosphere of Xen, where the stars don’t blink and red light comes in a hue from inside the dirt. He doesn’t have to force himself to go lay down at midnight like back home, he just sits down, at the edge of the portal, when the explosives have all been installed, and watch Coomer and Bubby ready themselves.

They can hear Bubby’s cackles ringing in Xen’s air and also in their comms, as he lays in Coomer’s arms and they race the fire, starting from the outer ring of asteroids to the main Xen island. They jump from rock to rock, red light trailing after them while the dirt itself breaks apart, not with a boom, but with the sound of bubbles breaking after a wave crashes on the shore. Xen glows brighter than it probably ever has, in its disintegration. 

Benrey sings a few vacant notes, standing on nothingness; the light from his mouth blends in almost perfectly with Xen’s dying light. 

“You got all of your belongings outta there?” Gordon asks, half as a jab, half serious. “Didn’t leave anything important in your old apartment?” 

Benrey doesn’t answer, for a moment. When he does, it’s just to mumble, “oh look, there’s fireworks.” 

---

They got home early from it. 

Gordon takes a nap on the couch; he only wakes up from Benrey turning the sound up to max and then shooting a rocket at a truck in Far Cry 3. “Dude,” he throws an arm up over his face, and winces when it’s the plastic arm. “What the fuck.” 

“Go pick Joshua up,” Benrey says, definitely too conversationally, and barely understandable under the noises from the game. “Gordon. Sleepman.” 

“You’re slipping,” Gordon comments as he wrestles himself out of Tommy’s quilt. He forgot to give it back to Tommy, he realizes sleepily, picking up the phone he left charging on the living room table. It’s seven already. 

The drive to Joshua’s grandparents’ place is not a long one. He finds Joshua sitting at the porch of the little house, backpack and the bag with the roller skates at his feet. Joshua jumps up at the sight of Gordon’s car, and before he can walk through the gate he’s already found his arms full of his son. 

Joshua clings to his neck with a death grip. “I’m sorry I’m late,” Gordon says. “I was tired, so I took a nap, and forgot the time.” 

“It’s okay,” Joshua mumbles, “you were tired.” 

“I blew up so many asteroids though.” Gordon says, and Joshua laughs. 

They drive home after saying goodbye to Joshua’s grandparents (Joshua’s grandpa put a wrapped up pot pie in Gordon’s hands with an iron grip and a gaze that communicated clearly what would happen if he refused it), and Joshua agreed to take a detour to the Roswell airport for the night. Gordon absentmindedly texts Benrey taking the kid to watch airplanes, get your own food , and puts his phone away for the drive. The radio’s on, but Joshua doesn’t sing along. Gordon’s vocal cord’s still tired from Xen (no more, Xen-no-more it is, there’s just a vast of empty space inbetween dimensions there now) so he also stays silent. 

They get ice cream at a drive-thru on the way, and then they’re at the highway, parking on the roadside, looking over the rail at the airport. A plane leaves the ground there and goes into the air. Gordon’s struck by how different it is from a bird or a moth; nothing about the plane communicates any internal movement, it just. Moves. Up and up. Like a JPEG sliding across the screen under someone’s puppeteering with a mouse. 

Joshua stares at the plane, unblinking. “Is it dangerous in space, Dad?” He asks. 

Gordon taps his hand on the steering wheel. “It’s.” He starts saying, but stops to clear his throat. “It can be. There’s a lot of math going into making things that bring a human into space, and a lot of different people doing different parts of that math, and. Sometimes some people do their math wrong. Sometimes they try something new, and we don’t have the good math for that new thing yet. Sometimes new things break into the old math, and we need to. Work around that new thing.” 

“What happens if,” Joshua swallows, “someone does the math wrong?” 

“We try to catch it,” Gordon says. “That’s why there are so many people doing the math. So if someone gives the wrong answer, they can spot it early, and fix it.” 

“What if nobody does,” Joshua says. He’s still looking through the car’s window, at the stroke of cloud the plane’s long flown past. 

Gordon puts his hands on the gear stick. “That’s very, very rare to happen,” he intones carefully. “They have to check, over and over, before they send a ship into space.” 

Joshua turns from the window to Gordon. He looks at Gordon’s prosthetic hand, on the gear stick. “I’ve only found books about spaceships that have gone to space,” he says, quiet. 

Gordon turns over, and holds out that hand. Joshua climbs over the gear stick to give him another hug. “Experiments are important to those ships too,” Gordon says. “They give the people who make the ships important information to make them safe.” 

Joshua just buries himself in Gordon’s arms. 

“I’m really sorry I came home late and didn’t call you, Joshua,” Gordon says, and hugs his son tighter. “I won’t do that again. I’ll always call when I’m home late.” 

“I don’t have to be an astronaut,” Joshua mumbles. 

“Oh, no- nononono, listen,” Gordon says into his hair, with all the determination he can muster up. “Listen, Joshua, you become whoever you want to, okay? You don’t have to be anything, but you don’t have to not be anything either. That’s my mistake, you didn’t do anything wrong. You’re good. You’re good. You’ll be an incredible astronaut. You’ll be the first man on Mars. Jupiter, even.” 

“Jupiter is a gas giant,” Joshua mumbles. “There isn't any land to land on.”

Gordon nods. “That’s why it’s called landing , I get it.”

---

They drive home after, and Joshua asks to sit with Gordon while he and Benrey play Mario Kart. Gordon agrees, which means he has to clamp down on any curse he almost lets out when someone bumps him off the damn road, while Benrey does some magic or whatever on his screen. Who the hell knows. 

After their third match, Benrey elbows Gordon in the arm to signify a break. “Beddy bye hour,” he says, not even looking at Gordon, “for… babies. Hattrick means I make the rules.” 

“You didn’t come first in the second match,” Gordon argues, but quiets down when he looks down to see Joshua asleep leaning on him. “Okay, don’t fucking choose Toon Link for me again while I’m away,” he points a finger at Benrey, who’s residing smugly in the to-be-chaos of his own making. “I’m fucking serious.”

He carries Joshua to his bedroom and tucks him in, and then detours to the kitchen for some water. 

“Ooh, hydration,” Benrey comments idly. 

“What d’you know about it,” Gordon mumbles when he settles back down on the couch. He looks at the TV screen to find Inkling on one of the shitty bikes. “What the hell man, this bike sucks ass. Fucking Shit Taste McGee over here.” 

Benrey laughs. 

Gordon plays the game, while thinking about the sendoff party they’re throwing for Bubby and Coomer next week, before the grandpas go off gallivanting in yet another forbidden corner of the Earth. Coomer lovingly calls it their “honeymoon”, but Gordon has full faith this is gonna be what they do forever. Or at least until they’re bored of Earth, and start aiming for the Moon instead. Probably not a bad place to be in. 

“Thinking Xen thoughts, aren’t’cha,” Benrey says, while sending a shell after some poor computer character. 

Gordon grins. “Ha! Sike! I’m not even thinking about Xen.” He pauses, catching the full force of a fireball a Mario shoots at him. “I haven’t thought about Xen at all actually. Since I got home with Joshua.” 

“Achievement unlocked,” Benrey says, and extends a hand. Gordon stares at it. 

“Wh- huh?” 

“High five, idiot.”

“Oh,” Gordon says, and slaps that hand. Benrey’s eyes widen at the noise. 

“Yo that’s a. Crunchy noise.” He claps his hands together, and he’s laughing now, light flowing out in a thread of something like baby blue. “This rules,” he says happily. 

Gordon smiles, and then some motherfucker flings a shell at him, so he falls off the road again. 

He stays up way too late again, and time doesn’t stop slipping, and when Darnold gives him a vial of neutralizer for the Potion of Not Telling at their little party the week after it gives him something like mania and he hugs Coomer like an idiot while the old man slaps his back in a motion that’s supposed to be comforting. He sleeps that off as well afterwards, and wakes up to Tommy surfing the channels on his TV, complaining about lack of daytime talk shows. When he forgets about the scheduled blackout a month after, he still calls the concierge with shaking hands and then climbs into his bed like he’s four again and there’s a storm outside. He still thinks about Black Mesa, and about Xen. 

There’s just a little addendum now, that he can remind myself of. 

It’s weird how quickly it blends into everything else, but. Well. It’s weird everything . 

He makes cookies again, comes the winter, and teaches himself how to decorate cookies, just to have something to do. Joshua throws his pencil onto the notebook one day to go dig out the lumpy, supposedly-ISS-shaped cookie cutters from the tool cabinet. 

“Careful,” Gordon calls after him. 

Joshua toddles back with the cookie cutters in hand. “Can we have ISS cookies?” He asks. 

Gordon says yes. He also looks up a buncha references, prints them out, and tries to get the cookies exactly correct, making two “outside” cookies and an “inside” one, with schematics of the inner chambers of the ISS drawn on. Joshua loves it. 

“Here’s where the astronauts sleep,” He points at the spot that’s supposed to be the service module, and Gordon’s proud of getting that part right on the cookie.

He ruffles Joshua’s hair again. “Hey, maybe you’ll sleep there in twenty years,” he says, and marvels at the levity to that sentence. Just a little bit. It’s washed away with Joshua’s smile, and then they busy themselves with folding bags for the cookies instead.

[lakelewisia]

A Lewisian Year

Presented in partnership with the Lewisia Communications Board and Lewisia Public Library

Sponsored by The Historical Society

Hello, readers, listeners, and psychic osmosizers! Welcome to A Lewisian Year, a monthly showcase celebrating the rich culture here in the Lake Lewisia district. Each month, we'll highlight some seasonal events, local celebrations and interpretations of national and world holidays, and historical tidbits.

SEPTEMBER

The Final Sunset

It's approaching seven in the evening when you walk outside and turn to the west. The sun sinks down to the horizon slowly, reluctantly, and paints the sky with fire as it goes. While the nights and early mornings have started to take on a chill--or at least, what feels like a chill to those now acclimated to the heat of summer--the days are still baked hot enough to carry over into evening. So you find a shady spot to sit, keeping the western sky in view.

Up and down the street, you can see your neighbors doing the same. Some have brought their meals out with them, but this is not one of the raucous barbecue events of the last three months. The groups are small and quiet, acknowledging each other from one front step to another with a nod at most. All attention is saved for that sinking sun. It's September twenty-first, and the Autumnal Equinox takes place tomorrow just after noon. This will be the last sunset of summer.

Of course, it won't be the actual final sunset of the year*, but just as we marked the return of the sun's strength in spring and its blazing zenith in summer, we will mark its waning into the growing dark and chill of oncoming winter. Much like the Window Opening Festival and Spring Equinox seed exchange that are the counterparts on the wheel of the year, the Final Sunset is something mainly celebrated at home, rather than in the public square. It is a moment of quiet reflection between the bright excitement of summer and the gleeful mischief of Halloween.

Legend has it, any creature that flies by during this time is an omen of the fall to come for the one who spots it. Crows for prosperity, owls for secrets revealed. Bats for visitors, gryphons for travel. So you keep your eyes on the sky until the sun is out of sight, the light has died to a banked ember glow, and the night chorus has started up in the planters next to the front steps. Did you spot something good, I hope?

When you head back inside, you pick up the bonfire-warmed stone you have from midsummer and hold it close to your heart. Its time has come to see you through the long nights and cold days ahead. Summer now is only a memory. Autumn sweeps in behind it and settles over Lewisia like a shroud.

*Historical note: it was, however, the final sunset of 1938, during which the winter was marked by a succession of astrological anomalies. Catastrophe on account of the lack of light was averted by the immediate arrival of a temporary and localized second moon, which provided enough illumination to keep life going.

Labor Day

Labor Day is observed in Lewisia as elsewhere, but it is the day (and even week) before that sees the most difference from the outside world. It is traditional to bring gifts to workers who have been of particular service to you in the past year. These days, the gifts generally take the form of large cash tips offered on the worker's last shift before the holiday. In the past, it was more common to offer food or durable goods of your own making as a way of repaying labor with labor.

Lewisian culture has always been one of fair dealings and decency, and as such has not been the direct site of significant labor protests historically. But many Lewisians work outside of the region and still others move to make their way in the wider world. So the town's ideals--and methods--have come into play in the fight for pay and protection for workers.

Several prominent anarchists involved in pro-labor demonstrations, riots, and bombings of the 19th century were Lake Lewisia natives now living elsewhere. At least three factory fires, at the time attributed to improvised incendiary devices lobbed through the first story windows, were later proven to be the result of several combustible newts set loose in the night. Exactly who released the newts, whose native habitat is well known to be coal mines and not textile factories, was never discovered. Suspects included Lewisian activist Milka Salonen, though, who upon her death in 1962, at age 101, donated an extensive private menagerie of incendiary vertebrates to the Knellen Family Trust's preservation program.

Lost Mail Day

Continuing with the month's historical leanings, Lost Mail Day comes September 2nd with its long-delayed tidings. Part swap meet, part matchmaking event, part historical exhibition, this day is one last concerted effort to get the mail to its destination, however far off-track it may have strayed. The backrooms and storage bins of the postal service are opened up and their contents spread out for one more try at delivery.

Here is a letter sent from the European front in 1941 to a wife who had, unbeknownst at the time to her husband, disguised herself as a man and made her way to find and fight beside him. Here is an order form and enclosed payment for a correspondence course in the nearly-forgotten art of sentient paint breeding. Here is the last letter sent by a portal explorer to her parents before her disappearance into a time anomaly in the scented candle aisle of a DORSHOP megastore.

The public is encouraged to look through the collection for their own mail or that of their acquaintances. More so, the public is asked to volunteer to track down recipients not immediately identified. Every year, there is a core collection of these volunteers, who range from history teachers to private investigators to genealogy hobbyists, who turn their particular skills to finding someone, living, dead, or descended, who might wish to receive such a long-lost letter or package.

If, at the end of the day, a piece of mail remains unclaimed by either the original sender, the intended recipient or suitable proxy, or one of the volunteer investigators, it is given over to the care of the Historical Society for long-term preservation. While there have been a few rare cases where a letter was identified and delivered even after this stage, most will enter into the Society's extensive archive of historical documents and primary sources. These are available for researchers outside of the Society by special arrangement, with the arrangement generally being a Society member informing you via cryptic messenger that you have been selected for their purposes.

This Month in History

We turn our attention this month to a much more recent anniversary than our usual selections. Two years ago, on September 20th, 2019, the store at First and Lilac first opened as an otherwise unnamed organization in the business of time retrievals. Well, we say "opened," but of course the shop is rarely open in the conventional sense of hours in which the doors are unlocked and customers can come inside.

Those who have partaken of the shop's services report that it is possible to go inside to pick up items when they arrive from their prior timeline locations. No one could recall going inside the shop, meeting with employees, or providing payment in advance when placing an order. I did identify two people who work at the shop, but their answers regarding their employment proved less than enlightening. It is, if nothing else, reported to be a comfortable and satisfactory way to make a living.

Those who have been willing to admit to what they purchased listed everything from stuffed toys from childhood to disappeared pets to heirloom watches. One person very proudly presented to me an oak tree of stunning height and fullness, complete with an endearingly rickety treehouse nestled within its branches. I never entirely cleared up if it was the tree or the treehouse (or perhaps both) that was rescued from the depths of time. Many, even those who would not admit exactly what they received, spoke movingly of a loss at a younger age that had haunted them ever after.

If you will allow your host a brief aside, I know this month has leaned more heavily than usual on the subject of history, the past, and the passage of time. Call it my own Final Sunset-inspired rumination. From ancient days of early people observing the changing seasons to our own very recent, very personal pasts, we are always in conversation with time, however modern we like our daily lives to feel. What we call "history" is a fiction, an ordering of the chaos of our lives. It is all, always happening, each moment and memory ready to be plucked from the stream if we wish to keep it. We forever have another chance to change the flow of time around us.

That's a taste of what September has to offer us. See you next month, when October brings Halloween (and yes, maybe a few other things as well).

[fantasticstoryteller]

New Dynasty Chapter 50

Bea Arthur sniffed the air around her and hissed. She smelled something that could be enemy, could be danger, could be food—

“It’s an old homeless guy,” Deadpool told the creature he was riding. “And I don’t care what the author says—eating him could kill you.”

Wade, please.

“Or at least make you really sick. How often does she need to eat, anyway?”

She’s not really hungry Wade; just bored. Jump a few rooftops and do some acrobatics and she’ll be fine.

“Onward!” ordered Deadpool. Bea Arthur roared in acceptance and jumped onto a fire escape to climb to the top of the building. An elderly woman opened her curtains to see the monster outside them, and there was a small thud as she fainted. “Hey!” said Deadpool. “I’m pretty sure giving a senior citizen a heart attack counts as killing them!”

Calm down. She merely fainted—and her apartment is full of quilts she’s made. She’ll be fine.

“Oh yeah? And what about Aunt May?”

Aunt May has a rare adult version of brittle bone disease. She’s still healing from her broken foot, but other than that she’s fine.

“Are you sure you didn’t kill her off screen? You’re good at that.”

Wade, what is this about?

Deadpool held tight to the improvised saddle as Bea Arthur leaped between rooftops and picked up speed. “That kid. The one in the tank at the lab.”

I remember.

“He died.”

Some time ago, yes.

“Off screen.”

Well, I did write a chapter for it explaining what happened—

“And?” Deadpool’s voice is brittle and angry.

And it was depressing as Hell and didn’t match the overall tone of the story.

“You authors and your ‘tones’,” growled Deadpool. “He was a good kid! You could have saved him!”

He was being forced to live as his body decomposed around him watching the children he thought of as siblings being tortured as they were tested to destruction for an incomprehensible goal. Trust me; he’s in a much better place right now.

Bea Arthur growled and stalked forwards, her movable toe tapping on the roof in an odd clicking motion. Suddenly she lunged forwards and chomped down on a sleeping pigeon.

“I thought you said she wasn’t hungry!”

She’s not. You’re riding her like a sack of potatoes. She’s a little bored.

“We’ll see about that!” Deadpool clung to the saddle and she raced forwards. She leaped down from the roof, bouncing from clothesline to clothesline, as she made her way to the street before running, jumping over pedestrians. Soon she ran back into an ally and hopped up the fire escape until she made it back to a roof. “How’s that?” Bea Arthur’s mouth opened in a satisfied grin as she lightly panted from the exercise.

Much better. Aren’t you looking for something while you’re out here?

“Oh, like I’m really going to find anything jumping from rooftop to rooftop this time of night. No, I wanted to talk to you.”

I’m feeling suspicious Wade. What do you want to talk to me about?

“How’s Peter and Arachne?”

Fine. They had their little talk, and they’re not watching TV as they wait for you to get back from patrol.

“And why couldn't I be there?” demanded Deadpool. He didn’t like being written out of a heartwarming scene with Arachne—she was his daughter too.

Of course she is. And you couldn't be there because 1) you would have focused on critiquing her one below the belt punch and 2) the incident has traumatized you enough.

“I am not traumatized!”

You’re referring to yourself as Deadpool.

Deadpool—Wade was silent as Bea Arthur bent to sniff something on the graveled rooftop. “All right,” he said. “You’re right. I don’t like the thought of those bastards going anywhere near my little girl—”

And you shouldn't.

“—but I can handle it.”

Can Peter?

Deadpool—Wade—reeled in shock on the back of Bea Arthur who looked up and snorted a low, menacing growl. “What?” he demanded.

Can Peter handle you being traumatized by what happened? And Arachne?

“That—you—”

I realize, Wade, that you are the only one in this story that can hear me, but you are not the only one in it.

“So you were protecting them? Not me?”

This may be a foreign concept to you, but I can be protective of my protagonists. And that includes you, by the way, which is why your boxes aren’t here.

“Huh.” Bea Arthur sniffed the air again and pranced in place as Deadpool sat on her back thinking about what the author said. “That said—you did cause me mental anguish.”

You’re not about to heap demands on me are you? Because you are literally riding a movie-style velociraptor that has laser vision, the ability to create a force field, and happens to be carrying four fertile eggs.

“Four WHAT?” Wade looked down at the creature between his legs.

Chill out Wade, they’re not developed enough to be laid yet.

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

I haven’t decided if she’s going to get spayed yet, or if she’s going to lay them.

“And when were you going to decide that?”

I thought I’d let the comments decide for me.

Bea Arthur suddenly shifted in an odd, sliding movement as she sniffed the air, tracking an elusive, familiar scent.

“The comments. Well, I’ve been thinking about that story you’re going to write me in.”

I’m writing you in a story now.

“No, no—the new one! The one after this!”

What about it?

“I want you to put smut in it. None of this ‘start affection and then cut away at the last moment crap.’ That’s only good for kids stuff.”

Wade, I don’t write smut. I’ve never written smut; I wouldn't be good at it.

“Then you need practice! Like the priest said to the virgin, ‘It only hurts the first time!’” Wade grinned under his suit. “And you’re smiling!”

I am, actually. That was a good book. Shout out to Mercedes Lackey, one of my favorite published authors.

Bea Arthur growled and suddenly lunched forwards as Wade automatically adjusted to her new gait as she began running and jumping between the rooftops.

“And I want good clothes!”

Meaning…?

“I want a cape! Lined with fur!”

Wade, do you even know how impractical that is?

“It’s a fantasy! You can do what you want!”

To a certain extent that is true.

“And no cowboy hats.”

And just what, pray tell, is wrong with a cowboy hat? You wore one not that long ago, if you’ll recall.

“And it was stupid! Come on, there just happened to be a box of cowboy hats in that warehouse? And I just happened to grab a couple?”

Enough. I have had enough. Wade, I wanted to write something fun. Something with action. But were you satisfied with that? Oh, no. No, you’re complaining about my taste in FASHION!!

“Your taste sucks!”

I’ve had it. I’ve had it. I have had it with you.

“Oh?” Wade’s lips pulled back in a sneer. “And what are you going to do about it?”

I’ll show you what I’m going to do about it.

Suddenly Wade felt a sharp pain in his chest and looked down to see the dart piercing him. The plunger had depressed as it hit pushing the drug into his system. His body felt like lead. He was having trouble holding on to the saddle.

And Wade?

“Wha?” slurred Wade as he blinked rapidly trying to clear his blurring vision.

Betty White is the better Golden Girl!

“You BI—”

Wade’s world went black and he fell off Bea Arthur. She tried to defend him against the men who attacked—but she was hit with another dart and it knocked her out as well.

[fictional-worlds-are-exquisite]

i am out there!! i'm glad you liked it! i'm definitely trying out the recipe you left in the tags. it sounds way better than just banana and peanut butter. i always have to pay a lot of attention when i type banana because i've ended up with "bananana" way too many times

i was planning to run straight to your askbox the second i saw you replied but then the end of the semester happened and it killed me. hopefully i'm done with it now

i do exactly the same thing with height! if you tell me your height in feet i have absolutely no idea how tall that is. if you say that in centimetres that's easy. i mean you're 155cm so that's 12cm shorter than me. when you told me that in feet i was like okay cool i have no idea how much shorter than actually is

i love birds!!! so that seems awesome! i am now titling you the queen of birds. and i'm glad your vacation was good! i think i saw a couple of posts you made about it so it definitely does seem like a lot of fun! and did you ever figure out completely what that see through animal (?) in the sand was? i had no idea stuff like that even existed so now i'm invested in knowing what it is

i am 100% hiring you for my coming out party i'm throwing in a couple of years. it's gonna be fun. if we don't get immediately kicked out i promise good food and some spicy drama between my homophobic relatives and my accepting relatives! and my brother's, who i already came out to, dry commentary

i was definitely not the one you told about burma trails! but from the tags i'm just gonna say how is that allowed and why does it seem like a weird type of torture? i hate it, i probably would've had a heart attack 3 seconds in

oh yeah i actually can't tell most of the time if the memories from my childhood are actual memories or if it's just a combination of having seen photos and heard stories about it

my glasses prescription is fine i think. my eye doctor said that i get headaches from glasses because... well i tried to explain this and then deleted it all because it was a very scientific explanation when she said it and i zoned out pretty much halfway through and even the part that i did understand i can't translate to english! but it has something to do with the fact that with contacts it's enough to move my eyes in the direction i want to look at and with glasses i have to move my whole head and my brain got so used to contacts that it overdoes it with the eye movements when wearing glasses? i dunno. this is the best i can do in explaining it

i must admit i'm very jealous of the never snows part because while snow is pretty to look at it's absolutely freezing! for the past week i slept under a duvet, three blankets while wearing pants and a long sleeve shirt and i still woke up cold. because for a couple of nights it was around -22°C. it's great

ohhh you got pretty lucky as a kid then! my kid self would have absolutely lost it at getting the equivalent of 5/10 bucks. i probably would have bought so much candy

excellent!!! hope you’re enjoying the vague void from whence you came! i’ve never said whence before in my LIFE i wonder if i used it correctly. anyway. the actual recipe was way more specific but once i saw ‘2 frozen bananas’ and looked at all the sliced bananas in my fridge, having no idea how many there were, i just started improvising sdfkhsdfs. I’d be interested to try it with yoghurt though if I can get some dairy free plain stuff, I’m sure I can somewhere. Banana used to be my biggest problem when I was younger. Then I learnt words like occasion and necessary and embarrassed and I realised the more english I tried to learn, the worse my life was gonna get. And I was right. On the bright side, developing an inability to ever spell occasion correctly made banana seem a lot easier to handle.

that is fair. end of semesters are rough. i cannot function during them at all. i hope everything chills out for you!! i’m not sure how the school year is over there but maybe it’s break time? that’d be nice. but rest in peace anyway, enjoy being dead! they say necromancy is frowned upon in all societies but I reckon it’s just called making a friend when you’re dead so maybe you wanna take that up as a hobby! I’ve heard it’s nice this time of year!

yup! sometimes I’m like oh you’re 5 foot 4? that sounds way taller than me. but it...it really isn’t...it’s like an extra 8cm or something. which adds up! but in my head I was picturing a MUCH taller height. In my head I think I picture 6 foot and 5 foot 4 as the same height, now that I think about it.

!!!!! my first order as queen of birds is to meet a morepork face to face so we can chat about the price of pork these days. yes!! the first half was nice but the second half was really fun. my best guess is still that it’s a salp? Maybe? So many salp pictures are massive groups of them but like,, from what i can tell of singular photos,,, it was maybe that? I guess the only other possibility is it’s just some clear jellyfish but salp does seem more likely. At first I was like oh duuude boob implant for the ocean!! but then I realised it actually seemed kinda alive and was probably an actual creature. my bad.

excellent. i’ll break any tension by dropping the vampire act for the mouse act. will do backflips for cheese. will bite ankles for homophobic comments. Will pull a knife out of god knows where, not to threaten anyone, just to clean my nails with to make everyone nervous. I offer many services. I’m flexible. And I love me some good food.

I actually DON’T know the reason behind burma trails. I really don’t. The reason ‘it’s a fun activity!’ seems a little fake. if it’s a fun activity then why did Mrs. G. tell us a horror story about the forest before we went out to navigate said forest at night, blindfolded, surrounded by wildlife and parents supervising (*cough* waiting for the opportunity to jump out at you *cough*) with a teacher at the end waiting to scare us. So we can learn how to navigate the forest in the dark? So we learn how to follow a mysterious rope INTO the forest at night? seems dodgy to me. school camps be like [drives you out to forest] follow this rope and don’t take your blindfold off. like. bruh. i almost DID have a heart attack one time, I got stuck like something was holding my leg. First thought-ah, must’ve got my leg stuck in a big stick. Second thought-maybe this is one of the parents fucking around, it feels more like a grip than a twig. Third thought-I cannot get my leg free no matter what I do what the fuck is HAPPENING so I started crying out for help. When they FINALLY came they found nothing my leg was caught on so that was fun. love that for me. I was able to move as soon as they arrived. That’s not weird at all. anyway.

I think most of my early memories are just from stories I’ve been told and photos I’ve seen. My memory tends to be horrible I highly doubt I remember that one time I was eating dirt from the garden out in the yard gleefully. I just saw the photo evidence. mm spaghetti. bone apple teeth. my character hasn’t changed at all since I was a wee babe.

ohhhh okay. I think I get what you mean by that. Thank you for trying to explain! That’s really interesting. I guess I do move my head a lot with glasses. Although I have massive glasses so it’s probably easier for me to just move my eyes where I want. I reckon with smaller glasses I’d have to move my head way more.

the temperature comment is so funny because during the heart of winter i tend to sleep with a sheet, a blanket, a duvet, then 2-4 blankets on top while in a long sleeve shirt and long pants and sometimes bed socks and often a hottie (i’ve never realised how that sounds out of context...a hot water bottle...is calling it a hottie normal or is a my family thing? is this a nz thing? now i’m questioning myself). in my uni accommodation last year we didn’t have proper heating during most of winter and well. there was a quilt added to everything else. every blanket i could find. how cold does it get here in winter? rarely ever past 0 degrees celsius. I would literally die in your position, clearly. I could not survive that. Props to you for making it through aha.

yesss. Before when I found five dollar notes it’d be on the street and I’d be like oh no! Mum we have to hand this into the police station! It’s a lot of money, someone will be looking for it! Understandably she was like,, lindsey they might miss it but there’s not really any way you can find them,,, I still refused to spend it. That was like my first time really getting that much money for myself. The dairy on main street sold lollies for 10 cents each and they had like, 30 different lil glass boxes so you’d go I want 3 of 26, 5 of 7, ohhh and 5 of 13 please! I dunno if they’re still 10 cents each but I thought it was the best thing ever as a kid. I think I wanted to save the money though sfdjsdkfhs put it in my piggy bank to save up for something ‘super cool’. Aka probably like a neat soft toy to sleep with sdfsdkfs.

[sweetiepie08]

All I Ask of You (Chap 2)

The Dark Crystal: Age of Resistance fic

Deet x Rian

She walked into his life when all seemed lost. He accepted her when the other surface dwellers didn’t. She was gentle. He was brave. Their first impressions dwelt in their minds and their feelings grew as their journey wore on. They supported each other, comforted each other, and gave each other strength. Together, they were a light in the darkness.

Chapter 1. Chapter 2. Chapter 3.  Chapter 4. Chapter 5.

[-]

The night brought a much-needed chill to the Crystal Desert. The suns bore down on them during the day, harsh and unforgiving, but the moon and stars granted them relief. They gathered around a campfire, preparing an improvised funeral ceremony for the fallen, though specifically it was for Brea’s mother, All-Maudra Mayrin. It was Deet’s suggestion. Brea lost her only a few days ago and the pain was still fresh. Rian understood. He knew what it was like to lose someone dear, then need to run with no time to mourn or reflect. But now, on the cliffside, they could finally slow down, rest, and feel the weight of their losses.

Kylan lead the ceremony. He gave Brea a Dream Stitch and told her to bind her mother’s memory to it. She hesitated. The others tried to encourage her, but she was overwhelmed, unsure of what to say. So, Rian stepped in. He’d been silent about his own grief until now. This was meant for the All-Maudra and he didn’t want to overshadow that. But Brea needed support. He wanted to show her she wasn’t alone, that someone else knew the pain of losing a parent to the Skeksis. So, Rian told them of his father.

He let out more than he intended. Gurjin knew how he felt about his father, as did Mira. He’d gone on enough childish rants over the years about how strict his father was. Though, Rian had to admit, he didn’t make it easy. Mischief was something of a specialty of his, especially as a childling. Breaking rules, particularly ones that seemed unfair, was a constant temptation. It got him in plenty of trouble growing up, as could be expected. Who’d have guessed that talent for breaking rules would work out for him now?

But his father did not always see it that way. “He is a challenge,” he overheard his father say to his grandparents once when he was a childling. Rian remembered running outside, his heart lodged in his throat and terrified he might cry. It wasn’t the words that hurt, necessarily but the way he said them; cold and impersonal, like he was giving a report on a new, disappointing recruit. He got in trouble that night for staying out after dark. He never told his father what he heard. They never talked about it, about anything really. How might things have been different if they had?

But his father did teach him something. He learned to fight, and not just with a sword. He knew the value of justice, of Thra, of the lives of those around him. And he knew the importance of protecting those things. When he and his father fought the Hunter, they were not just fighting for their lives, but for the future of Thra, and they fought together.

His father’s final message was to be brave. So he would. He’s take those simple words and make them his mantra. He would not give up. He would fight on for Thra, for the gelfing, for his father.

Brea spoke next. She had kinder things to say. Her mother was more affectionate and openly loving. She said “I love you” often. His own father was a man of action, not words. And his father’s final action was one of pure love. Still, Rian wondered what it must be like to have a parent who said the words at any chance.

Once Brea finished speaking, Kylan began a funeral dirge. Deet joined in first, then others. Kylan took out his flute and accompanied them. Hup began singing a podling dirge as well, his melody blending beautifully with the others. Rian was as comfortable singing as he was dancing, which is to say not much. He watched the others sing, all the same song, save Hup. They were gelfling from all different clans. Each had their own culture, their own traditions, their own way of life. But this they shared. They all lived, they all died, they all felt, and they all loved. And so, they all mourned, together.

Rian joined the song. As he sang, his gaze fell on Deet. They locked eyes across the fire. He focused on her voice. It was lovely and sweet, like her. The thought snuck up on him and it surprised the song from his lips. He watched her in the fire light. Her face was soft and serene as she sang. The embers reflected in her soulful eyes. She noticed him watching her and she paused as well. As she looked back at him, they shared a moment of silence.

I am so thankful to have met you, he thought, as if he could convey it through his gaze alone. She smiled at him, then continued singing.

The dream stitch began glowing in Brea’s hands. It unfolded its wings, rose into the air, and drifted away on the winds.

[-]

After the ceremony, the gelfling stayed up a while longer. They split off into smaller groups. Gurjin and Naia bantered as siblings do, Brea wrote in her journal by the fire while Kylan played his flute, and Deet and Hup chatted quietly as they stargazed. Rian took a place by Gurjin and Naia and listened as they talked. There was something comforting about their back-and-forth. He’d only met Naia a handful of times before all this, but he was familiar with Gurjin’s dry sarcasm and it reminded him of simpler times. Though, as he listened, he found his eyes drifting over to Deet and he noticed her stealing glances at him as well.

One by one, they drifted off to sleep. Almost the whole camp had gone to bed by the time Rian decided to turn in. However, he saw Deet still sitting alone by the cliffside. “Deet?” he said, approaching her, “are you going to sleep soon?”

“In a minute,” she answered, her eyes transfixed on the stars. “I want to look at the night some more.”

“The night?”

“Yes, Grottons have sensitive eyes,” she explained. “We learned to see in the dark, but the suns can be quite harsh on us. My eyes have adjusted to the sunlight, but they still hurt sometimes at the end of the day. It wasn’t so bad in the forest, with all trees around, but the desert is much brighter. Looking at the night feels very refreshing to me.”

“Oh, I didn’t know.” He sat down next to her, letting his feet dangle over the cliffside. She looked at him and he could see her eyes clearer. They were so deep and expressive. Looking into them was like looking into Deet’s gentle (beautiful) heart. “Maybe you should wear a hat or something? You know, with a brim? To keep the sunlight out of your eyes?”

“Oh, so it’s like carrying shade around with you all the time?” She smiled like she just discovered something new. Maybe she had. There would probably be no need for a sunhat in the caves. Her world be as different to him as the surface was to her.

“Yeah, I guess it’s something like that.”

“That’s a good idea. You surface dwellers come up with some clever things.”

“Clever things come out of your caves too,” he said, remembering her campfire moss trick.

Her smile softened and she turned her gaze back to the stars. “You know, I’ve never truly seen the stars before I came to the surface. They look so beautiful tonight. The way they reflect in the crystal sands makes it hard to tell where the night sky ends.”

“I never thought of it that way,” he admitted, “but you’re right.” And she really was. Deet had a way of turning simple things into wonder. It was all in the way she approached them. She had compassion for everyone and everything around her and she saw the best in it.

“By the way,” she said, “I though what you said about your father tonight was very touching.”

“Oh that,” he felt himself blush for some reason. “I just said something to help Brea get her thoughts together.”

“Still…” she began hesitantly, “I was there that night. I saw what happened…”

“I remember.” The sheer memory felt like a knife in his heart.

“I never knew him, of course, but I think your father would be very proud of what you’re trying to do.”

He let out a ragged breath. “You know, you might be right about that. At least, I hope I can make him proud…” Finally.

“Tell me about him,” she said, “I mean, if you want to.”

“Well, my father was a hero,” he began, reciting the refrain he heard his entire life. “He lead the Stonewoods to victory in the Arathim Wars. He was stern, disciplined. He wanted me to be the same but…” His heart clenched.

“But that’s not you,” she finished for him.

He shook his head. “No…that’s not me…”

“Well,” she said, her voice soft, “I like you the way you are.”

A smile tugged at the corners of his lips. “Thank you.”

“I guess I’m lucky. My family never wanted me to be anything except what I am.”

“That must be nice,” he answered before unconsciously letting out a forlorn tsk.

“What is it?”

He hesitated a moment, wondering what to say. He rarely talked about his father to anyone but his friends. Was Deet not his friend? He knew she was kind and gentle, but still brave enough to leave her home to save Thra and rush to the aid of a friend in need. She was a good person and I good friend. He was sure he could talk to her without judgement.

“Whenever I think about my father, I can’t help but wonder what might have been. His last moments showed me that everything he did, he did out of love for me. Still I wonder, what if he was more affectionate, or more encouraging, or said the words more…” His voice broke as guilt overwhelmed him. “It’s awful. He gave his life for me. How can I still want more?”

“Is it about wanting more?” she asked, moving closer to him. His own sorrow reflected in her eyes. “Maybe it’s what you said, wondering about what might have been. From what you said…” she stopped to finds the right words, “it sounded like you were just starting to form a great team. The Hunter stole that from you both. It’s only natural to wonder. Besides, you must have had some other good times together. Did it always feel like you were just a soldier?”

He took s breath to collect himself. “Well, when I started my training, it did. He didn’t want to show any favoritism, so he treated my like any other recruit. And when I was a childling, he was usually too busy leading the castle guard to spend much time with me. So, I got up to a lot of mischief. It seemed the only way to get his attention when he was on duty. I understand now that he had a job to do, but still, growing up was a little…”

“Lonely?”

“Yes…” he admitted. “It wasn’t all bad, though. I spent my summers at Stone-in-the-Wood with my grandparents. I looked forward to it every year. I could run and play anywhere I pleased and I didn’t have to be mindful to stay out of the Skeksis’ way. Even better, my father would come visit me for one week every month and we’d spend all our time together. We’d go fishing, or camping, or fizzgig hunting. He taught me how to use the stars as a map, how to make a campfire, how to live off the land… He’d show me a new skill once, maybe twice, then tell me to keep trying until I figured out how to do it myself.” A small laugh escaped his lips. “You know, part of me is surprised that, on the day I came of age, he didn’t drop me off in the middle of the Endless Forrest with nothing but a hunting knife and tell me to find my way back.”

“What did he do?”

“He gave me my first drink, well, as far as he knew, as my first sword. He congratulated me on graduating my training and said he was proud of me.” A smile came to his face as the memory warmed him. “My father was a soldier to the core, but he did have a softer side. I think I got to see it more than anyone.”

“I saw him fighting alongside you. He seemed very brave. I see that in you as well.”

The smile of his lips stayed as pride grew in his heart. “I’m not much like my father, but he taught me a lot. I don’t think he expected me to apply his lessons quite the way I am, but I will keep fighting as he taught me, for him, for the gelfling… and for Mira.”

“You cared a great deal for her,” Deet said, moving closer to him.

“I loved her,” he answered firmly. He didn’t want that fact to get lost in the story. He wanted people to remember who Mira was. She was more than what the Skeksis did to her. She was a person with a great laugh, a taste for adventure, people who loved her, and a brilliant future that was stolen from her.

“Actually,” he went on, “before she died, I was planning on going to Stone-in-the-Wood on my next leave and bringing her back a stone.”

“A stone?” Deet asked, a trace of amusement in her voice.

“It’s a Stonewood tradition,” he explained. “When a gelfling proposes marriage to another gelfling, they bring their beloved a stone from a special place where their love bloomed.”

“What was your special place?”

“Well, she’d heard so many stories about my summers in Stone-in-the-Wood, she insisted on seeing it with me. So, the next time we had leave together, I took her with me. I showed her all my favorite places. We went to the open-air brewery which makes the best ales. We went ziplining down the tallest trees. I introduced her to my grandmother and they got along great. Her favorite place, though, was a swimming hole just outside the village. I took her there for a moonlight swim. I remember, she’d just jumped out from behind a waterfall. She was laughing. She always seemed to have a joke in her head. The moonlight bounced off her hair, making her glow. I thought she looked so beautiful. I told her I loved her. I didn’t plan it. It just came out. She kissed me so hard I we fell beneath the surface of the water. I was planning to bring her a skipping stone from the water’s side and aks her to marry me on the castle’s observatory.”

Tears came unbidden to his eyes. He’d only noticed they were there when he felt them on his cheeks. Deet laid a hand on his back, gently as she was named. She didn’t say anything. She didn’t need to. This was exactly what he needed. He needed to stop, to think, to grieve, to cry. There was never time before. Tears always came to his eyes when he dreamfasted that horrible day, but every time, he needed to wipe them away quickly and carry on. Now, he could let them fall, let them dry on his cheeks and leave their salt behind. Having Deet there, feeling her touch and knowing she listened, just made him feel safer.

“Feeling better?” she asked after his tears slowed.

He wiped the remains away. “A little.” His pent-up sorrows had drained with his tears, leaving relief in its wake. The pain of loss was still there. That sort of grief left a scar. But it dulled and left room for him to feel other things again.

“I can tell you loved them, and miss them. I’ll be they know it too,” she said, moving her other hand to his. “I’m sorry, I wish I had something better to say.”

“Don’t be,” he said softly. “Just talking to you helped a lot.”

“If you ever need to talk again, I’ll be right beside you,” she said, and she meant it.

“Thank you, Deet. It means a lot to me.” He curled his fingers around her hand. “Maybe I’ll get to return the favor someday. Hopefully not under the same circumstances.”

She let out a sad, but amused breath. “No, I certainly hope not.”

“But if you ever need anything, you can always ask me.”

“Thank you, Rian,” she said, a smile coming to her lips. She looked back up at the sky. “And maybe I will get one of those hats you suggested. Though, your sky lights aren’t all bad. The stars and the moon really are beautiful.”

“Yes,” he said, his gaze still fixed on Deet. He watched the stars glittering in her eyes. They really were… “Beautiful.”

He turned his had back to the night sky. She was right. It was beautiful, but not just the stars. The night breeze cooled the air. The world was painted in shades of blue. Everything was quiet and still… Peaceful was the word he was looking for. Funny, in all the chaos he somehow forgot. But that’s what it was, peace. Not the false peace the Skeksis promised, but true peace. Everything in Thra working in harmony as it should. This is what they fought for, the chance to bring Thra back into balance.

He felt something heavy land on his shoulder. He looked down to see Deet’s head leaning against him. “Deet?”

“Oh,” she gasped, suddenly lifting her head again. “I’m sorry. I must be getting sleepy.”

“We should both be getting to bed.” He swung his feet back onto solid ground and stood up. “Come on,” he said, offering his hand. “The edge of a cliff is no place to be nodding off.” She smiled as she took it and he felt her warmth radiate off her.

They joined the others by the campfire and fell asleep alongside the rest of them. As he drifted off, Rian thought about their conversation. It was a simple thing, just one friend listening to another, but he was finding he needed simple things in his life. In the midst of all the fighting and heartache, peace was what he longed for most.

[aion-rsa]

The 25 Best SNL Holiday Sketches

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The holidays are a special time around 30 Rock. While tourists flock to see the towering Christmas tree, the Saturday Night Live writers room is busy thinking of holiday sketches you’ll reminisce about as you put up the stockings for years to come. Some of SNL’s all-time great sketches illustrate the best of the holiday spirit or lack thereof as show’s biggest stars often shined the brightest just before the New Year. 

From unlikely Santas to unorthodox gift-giving, we’re looking at 25 of our favorite Saturday Night Live holiday sketches. We’ll be going in chronological order here. There is a big dose of modern stuff in there, but what can I say? The show might be more miss than hit these days, but they really hit it out of the park year after year with the Christmas sketches.

Santi-Wrap (1976)

Very early in the show’s run, we get this classic where an adult woman (Laraine Newman) is all about sitting on Santa’s lap like when she was a little kid. The initial laugh is that before sitting down, she puts pieces of toilet paper on Santa’s leg for protection, like one would do in a public bathroom. Dan Aykroyd, her companion on this trip, seems shocked by this. Not that she’s trying to protect herself from germs, but because she’s not going far enough!

Suddenly, it turns out to be a commercial for Santi-Wrap, a festive and plasticky take on toilet seat covers. Not only do those two sell the product concept so well, but John Belushi as the mall Santa pushes it further by coming off as a complete disaster of a man who is probably riddled with disease.

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One of the show’s all-time best line deliveries is Belushi’s drunken, “Ho ho ho…” which has both defiant gusto and the sense that he’s seconds away from vomiting all over himself.

Mr. Robinson’s Christmas (1984)

Saturday Night Live has been a stepping stone to superstardom ever since Chevy Chase became a household name during its first season. In the 80s, Eddie Murphy’s recurring roles on SNL helped raise his profile as he eventually became one of, if not the biggest star of the decade. It was around Christmas time when Murphy’s spin on Mister Rogers’ Neighborhood became one of the sketches that came to define his tenure at Studio 8H.

Mr. Robinson’s neighborhood isn’t quite as nice as Mister Rogers’ but at Christmas time you have to make the best with what you have. Mr. Robinson was able to do that with a chunk of lettuce and a headless doll and Murphy was able to make the most of every opportunity he had on SNL.

It’s a Wonderful Life: The Lost Ending (1986)

If you’ve seen the 1946 American Christmas classic It’s A Wonderful Life, odds are you’ve been inspired by its heart-warming ending. Thanks to SNL and host William Shatner, we now have footage of the “fabled” lost ending to Frank Capra’s Christmas epic and it’s anything but heartwarming. Rather than end the film with everyone coming to George Bailey’s aid in his time of need and celebrating his lifetime of selflessness and kindness, it decides to give Mr. Potter a fate more explicit than being doomed to failure and loneliness. Phil Hartman pops in as Uncle Billy and not only remembers what happened to the missing money, but knows exactly who has it!

Dana Carvey makes the sketch as a George Bailey hell-bent on revenge. It just wouldn’t be Christmas without seeing him give Mr. Potter a beat down alongside his bloodthirsty loved ones.

Master Thespian Plays Santa Claus (1987)

Jon Lovitz’s characters were usually very hammy by design. Whether he was a pathological liar or the Devil himself, he always went to 11. One of his better recurring characters was Master Thespian, a scene-chewing Shakespearean actor who takes himself and his roles far too seriously.

In this installment, he would be playing the role of a mall Santa Claus.

Thespian doesn’t seem to have heard of Santa, but he’s down for the part. Finding out that there’s no actual script, he improvises and figures out the character via making mistakes and getting scolded by the Macy’s manager (played by Phil Hartman, choosing to base his performance on Frank Nelson because why not). To his surprise, Santa Claus actually LIKES children! These are notes a performer needs to know, man!

Seeing him play off the kids and Hartman is a blast. Speaking of which, one of the better gags is a fart joke that somehow proves how great an actor Master Thespian truly is. THANK YOUUUUUU!

Hanukkah Harry (1989)

Santa Claus (Phil Hartman) is violently ill with the flu, so it seems Christmas might be cancelled. Luckily, there is one man capable of fulfilling his obligations through the same kind of holiday magic. Hanukkah Harry (Jon Lovitz), Santa’s Jewish counterpart, is called in to help.

At its core, it’s a lengthy sketch about Jewish jokes and how lame Hanukkah is outside of it lasting eight days. Springing off of that, it actually makes for a really good, if a little touching, holiday story. There are definite laughs in there, but what was created to be a parody hits a little too close and becomes a genuine gem celebrating both holidays and the spirit of togetherness.

“On Moishe! On Herschel! On Schlomo!”

Motivational Santa (1993)

What started as a pep talk for troubled teens turned into Chris Farley’s iconic recurring character. Matt Foley, the thrice-divorced, sweaty, overweight man who lived in a van down by the river, crashed into our living rooms in 1993 and remained a fixture on SNL until Farley was fired from the show in 1995.

Sometimes a sketch is so successful that the writers are almost forced to bring one or more of its characters around again and Matt Foley was no exception. In one of the funnier times Matt Foley returned, he was hired to spread Christmas cheer as a motivational mall Santa, offering up this gem:

“‘Twas the night before Christmas, and all through the van Your ol’ buddy Matt fell asleep on the can. His children were nestled two time zones away, With his first wife and her husband, in sunny L.A. Matt woke up and realized with a chill and a quiver That he was living in a van down by the river!“

Though many of the same jokes and physical gags are recycled, Farley’s effort, from the painfully high pitch of his voice to crashing down the chimney, earns the Motivational Santa a place in SNL Christmas lore. 

Adam Sandler’s Hanukkah Song (1994)

Yes, we’ve heard Adam Sandler’s “The Hanukkah Song” a million times over, but we shouldn’t let that cloud our judgement. It’s one of the first clips that pops into your head when you think “SNL Holiday Sketches” and it will go down as a landmark moment when the history of “Weekend Update” is written 200 years from now. Sandler didn’t use his time to evoke images of being a Jew at Christmas, rather he chose to praise the Festival of Lights and name-drop all the famous people who celebrate it. Since debuting the song in 1994, Sandler’s updated it for his comedy albums and standup routine and given Jewish kids something other than “The Dreidel Song” to belt during during the holidays. Sandler’s clever, original moment is about as influential as it gets for any not-ready-for-prime time player.

It did lead to the movie Eight Crazy Nights, so it isn’t free from sin.

TV Funhouse: Fun with Real Audio (1997)

It’s rare for SNL to get poignant, but here’s a fantastic example. In this animated short, Jesus Christ returns to Earth and spends the first opening minutes being ignored and shoved into the background for disagreeing with televangelists who use his name to line their pockets with donations or to justify their hatred of homosexuals. These bits are, of course, animated over actual audio of said real life sociopaths. Jesus is able to give them their just desserts with his divine magic, but it bums him out.

Walking the city streets, unnoticed by the public at large, Jesus watches Christmas-themed TV through a store window and is disappointed with what he sees. That is, until he comes across Linus’ speech at the end of A Charlie Brown Christmas and we get a final moment that’s adorable, uplifting, and pretty hilarious.

NPR’S Delicious Dish: Schweddy Balls (1998)

The dry, NPR-host banter between Ana Gasteyer’s Margaret Jo McCullen — who cheerfully admits that she leaves tap water and rice out for Santa because “Christmas foods really wreak havoc on the ol’ digestive system” — and Molly Shannon’s Teri Rialto as they discuss delectable Yuletide “balls” with Alec Baldwin’s Pete Schweddy is a can’t-miss skit. The trio makes monotone an art form, while remaining dedicated to the naivety of the characters involved. (In response to Alec Baldwin’s, “But the thing I most like to bring out this time of year are my balls,” their faces barely twitch.) It’s double entendre at its finest, and never fails to leave me in stitches.

Pete Schweddy returned in another episode where he introduced the women to his hotdogs, but having them show so much interest in putting his wiener in their mouths was a little too easy a joke to pull off.

I Wish It Was Christmas Today (2000-the heat death of the universe)

On one December episode, there was a short segment of Horatio Sanz, Jimmy Fallon, Chris Kattan, and Tracy Morgan playing a catchy, albeit incredibly stupid song about Christmas being on the way. Sanz played a skinny guitar while singing, Fallon occasionally pressed an elephant noise button on the keyboard, Kattan held the keyboard while shaking his head, and Morgan danced with a look on his face like he got dragged on stage against his will. It was silly and would have probably been forgotten soon after.

Instead, they returned a week later and insisted on playing it again despite being explicitly told not to. Soon they would start playing it during non-December months to show Christmas’ superiority over other holidays. After Simon Cowell insulted the group, he sheepishly agreed that he wanted to join them and broke out some maracas. One year, when Sanz was the only one left in the cast, he replaced his buddies with Fozzie Bear, Gonzo, and Animal while Kermit the Frog danced in a way that you have to wonder if a Muppet is capable of snorting coke.

The song still gets brought out now and then, usually on Fallon’s show. It’s even been covered by Julian Casablancas and Cheap Trick of all people!

They did sing a completely different Christmas song one time, but nobody cared.

Glengarry Glen Elf: Christmas Motivation (2005)

Alec Baldwin seems to be the go-to host for classic Christmas sketches. Playing on his iconic Glengarry Glen Ross character Blake, Baldwin (in a way) reprises the role as 615-year-old “elf from the home office” sent to straighten out the subpar work of Santa’s elves. There couldn’t have been a more perfect break in character than when Baldwin says “Always Be Closing” instead of “Always Be Cobbling” as scripted. It’s a slip-up that makes for a perfect holiday sketch, full of deep-bellied laughs. 

TV Funhouse: Christmastime for the Jews (2005)

Not only is the witty “Christmas for the Jews” written by comedy legend Robert Smigel, but it’s sung by David Letterman’s Christmas angel Darlene Love. In “Christmas for the Jews,” the characters see “Fiddler on the Roof,” grab an early dinner, and enjoy dreamland Daily Show reruns. It’s an intriguing and catchy look at the other side of the Christmas season, complete with a very Rankin-Bass animation style.

Digital Short: Dick in a Box (2006)

Justin Timberlake is one of the most entertaining, versatile hosts that SNL has been gifted. A member of their prestigious Five-Timers Club, “Dick in a Box” is Timberlake’s most memorable sketch, filled with skeevy, disgusting come-ons from Andy Samberg and Timberlake, which has been viewed just millions and millions of times. In 2006, Timberlake had already impressed critics and viewers alike with his acting range in Alpha Dog, but his comedic turns on SNL solidified him as an actor. Timberlake has done a lot of impressive things in his time as an entertainer, but there are few more enjoyable (or laughable) than “Dick in a Box.”

These two R&B weirdos would return later on to sleep with each other’s moms as reciprocated Mother’s Day presents and later swear that being in a two-guy/one-girl three-way isn’t considered gay.

John Malkovich Reads ‘Twas the Night Before Christmas (2008)

As quipped by the man himself, no one emits Christmas spirit quite like John Malkovich. This admission yields the self-reflexive irony of Malkovich reading “The Night Before Christmas” to the children of SNL’s staff. Malkovich, pausing during his reading of the holiday classic, asks the children about the suicide rate rising during the holidays, talking about how shooting a home invader in California is “perfectly legal,” musing about how the tonnage of Santa’s sleigh and reindeer would (scientifically speaking) burst into flames, how in Portugal their version of Saint Nicholas steals children’s toes, as well as reciting the gem: “You know what they say about hopes; they’re what we cling to when reality has left us nothing else.” If you’re in a lighthearted Christmas mood, Malkovich’s monologue is certainly one to enjoy.

Stefon on Holiday Travel (2010)

Bill Hader was highly respected for his versatility and range during his time at SNL, but it was his improvisational skills that turned a Weekend Update bit into a must-see recurring segment. Stefon, likely the defining character for SNL during the 2010s thus far, informed New Yorkers and tourists alike of the city’s hottest nightclubs – with Hader almost always breaking down in laughter as his cue cards were frequently changed from the rehearsal to throw him off.

Stefon knew how to get weird and you can imagine he’d save some fun things for the a “classic New York holiday.” Make sure to check out the Lower, Lower East Side dump hosted by Tranderson Cooper or find a club with the right amount of Puerto Rican Screeches or Gay Aladdins. Just don’t run over the Human Parking Cones.

Stefon would return with more Christmastime insight three years later, where he’d discuss a club called [loud Tauntaun noises], founded by Jewish cartoon character Menorah the Explorer.

Under-Underground Crunkmas Karnival (2010)

Good God, I wish there were more Under-Underground Records sketches. As a parody of the Gathering of the Juggalos, we’d regularly see DJ Supersoak (Jason Sudeikis) and Lil Blaster (Nasim Pedrad) excitedly talk up huge concert events that are needlessly violent and inexplicable in their randomness. For instance, there’s the Crunkmas Karnival, which features such musical acts as Dump, Boys II Dicks, Scrotum Fire, and…Third Eye Blind for some reason.

It’s just a bunch of loud humor that goes back and forth between being stupidly hardcore and being meekly out of left field. Yes, you can go check out a “dong tug-of-war,” but you can also see a special 2D screening of the Owls of Ga’hoole or meet Spaceballs star Pizza the Hut. Not to mention the return of their most fondly remembered running gag, the endless undying and dying of Ass Dan.

This Christmas-based event will take place in February. Sounds about right.

Ornaments (2011)

Every now and then, SNL will do a sketch towards the end of the show where the guest will talk about whichever holiday is coming up and awkwardly go into one of the aspects of it, such as Easter eggs or Halloween candy. In this instance, it’s Steve Buscemi unloading a box of Christmas ornaments and commenting on each one. All the while, Kristen Wiig plays Sheila, his girlfriend who appears to be more than a little off and doesn’t quite grasp tree decorating.

Buscemi’s descriptions range from delightful non-humor to outlandish and disturbing. He might make an intentionally lame joke about one ornament before holding up another and matter-of-factly letting you know that, “I put this one up my butt.”

And somehow he’s still the straight man in this bit.

You’re a Rat Bastard Charlie Brown (2012)

This sketch is centered on Bill Hader playing Al Pacino, playing Charlie Brown. The rest of the cast turns out bang-up impressions as well: Jason Sudeikis playing Philip Seymour Hoffman playing Pigpen, Kate McKinnon as Edie Falco playing Lucy (as Charlie Brown’s drug peddling therapist, causing a holiday-blues Charlie to say, “Oh yeah…I want something to take me sky high!”), Martin Short playing Larry David playing Linus, Taran Killam doing Michael Keaton as Schroeder, and Cecily Strong as Fran Drescher as Charlie Brown’s mother, all performed in front of a baffled childhood audience.

For anyone who grew up watching Charlie Brown and Co., watching Bill Hader/Al Pacino/Charlie Brown unleash the expletive-laden “You’re gonna hold that f***ing football?!” towards Kate McKinnion/Edie Falco/Lucy, and saying, “Ow, you bitch!” after she pulls it away is absolutely to die for.

Jebidiah Atkinson on Holiday Movies (2013)

For a time, Taran Killam played Jebidiah Atkinson, a Weekend Update character based on how an old newspaper editorial was discovered that panned Abraham Lincoln’s Gettysburg Address. Atkinson, somehow still alive, would appear and read review snippets about other big speeches he hated.

One of his return appearances had him discuss holiday specials and movies. Every single one of them he hates. Every single one of them gets roasted. His vicious energy is so over-the-top that the good jokes land and the bad jokes still get a laugh from the misplaced confidence. Over these several minutes, he screams about how much of a depressing bore A Charlie Brown Christmas is, how the Grinch stole a half hour of his life, and how every time they play It’s a Wonderful Life, an angel blows its brains out.

This one is admittedly a bit dated with its biggest joke, where his distaste for Snoopy is so great that he wishes Family Guy killed him off instead of Brian. The horror from the audience still makes it worth it.

St. Joseph’s Christmas Mass Spectacular (2014)

Ah, Christmas Mass. The drum solo for every childhood during Christmas time. It’s uncomfortable and especially boring. Ergo, liven it up by framing it as a big, in-your-face event via what amounts to a monster truck rally commercial!

It’s a brilliant use of contrast. Take an event that is so mundane with so many familiar and shared experiences and treat it like it’s some extreme thing. The familiarity of the pastor making corny jokes that get the most minor of laughs is treated like a once-in-a-lifetime event. It shines a light on the weird tics of the prominent people you see at church and feels amazingly universal.

The SNL cast is fantastic here, but the MVP is Cecily Strong as the middle-age woman who is way into doing a reading in the loudest, most overly articulate speaking voice possible.

Sump’N Claus (2014)

Getting gifts from Santa Claus is great and all, but when you grow up, you realize how hard it truly is to be nice all year round. Luckily, there’s an alternative. Introduced via an extremely catchy song, we meet Sump’n Claus (Keenan Thompson), a pimp-like offshoot of Santa who not only used to work for St. Nick, but also appears to have some dirt on him.

Sump’n Claus sings several verses about people who have had breakdowns and would be thrown onto the naughty list. Sump’n Claus doesn’t care about that. You be you. Every December, he’ll still be there to hand you an envelope full of twenties and fifties. He’s the holiday mascot for adults, basically.

One of the highlights is how he mentions that Santa is not your friend as friends don’t watch you while you’re sleeping.

The Christmas Candle (2016)

Christmas has been saved by many different things: ghosts who see through time, an angel trying to earn his wings, a reindeer’s glowing nose, New Yorkers singing “Santa Claus is Coming to Town,” and so on. Then again, sometimes you need a savior for something with lower stakes.

In the form of a mid-1990s all ladies group that gives me kind of a Celine Dion vibe, we’re given a wonderful song that starts with the tale of a woman who had to get a coworker a gift for Secret Santa. She found an old peach candle in her closet and just gave her that. The second verse is a similar situation where not only is a peach candle given as a throwaway gift to an acquaintance, but it’s THE SAME candle. Yes, somehow this one peach candle is re-gifted across the globe through latter December by women and gay men who couldn’t be bothered to put thought into their presents.

Truly a miracle.

First Impression (2018)

Beck Bennett plays a guy about to finally meet his girlfriend’s (Melissa Villaseñor) parents and he’s nervous as hell. She assures him that he’ll be fine, but he really wants to impress them. Sure enough, he tries to impress them in the weirdest way by hiding somewhere in the house and speaking in a high-pitched voice in order to dare them to find him. Her parents (Jason Momoa and Heidi Gardner) are notably confused, as is she.

It’s already a strange and silly bit, but Jason Momoa shifts it into gear by suddenly being COMPLETELY into it. Removing his jacket with purpose, Momoa excitedly starts searching the house for this guy. The fact that Momoa is playing an overweight 60-year-old man is enough of a novelty, but he brings this oddball zest to the role as he starts to literally tear the home to pieces in order to get a look at his daughter’s elusive boyfriend.

The boyfriend’s plans here are both overly complicated and half-baked, culminating in an ending that’s as happy as it’s inexplicable and off-putting.

North Pole News Report (2019)

When Eddie Murphy returned to SNL, there was much fanfare. A completely solid episode, it admittedly spent too much of its runtime revisiting his old recurring classics like Mr. Robinson, Gumby, and Velvet Jones. The final sketch of the night goes full blast with his manic energy as he plays an elf eyewitness on the elf news, screaming bloody murder about a horrible tragedy. Mikey Day is reporter Donny Chestnut, looking at the destruction of a toy factory. As he tries to make heads or tails of what’s going on, Murphy bursts onto the scene, screaming about a polar bear attacking the elves and eating them like Skittles. And just screaming in general.

The best line comes from the elf (who keeps declaring, “IT DOESN’T MATTER WHAT MY NAME IS!”) bringing over one of the survivors, and noting that, “This white, teenage elf girl ran out here, straight up to me – a black elf in sweatpants – and asked me to keep her safe. That’s how bad it is!” Despite this elf being right about the situation, Donny Chestnut keeps trying to sideline him for being increasingly erratic about Santa’s potential role in the slaughter and what it means for Christmas. Even as he trips over some of his lines, Eddie Murphy is so damn precious here.

AAAAAAHHHHHHH!!

December to Remember Car Commercial (2020)

It might be in bad form to include a sketch from this very year, but man, this joke is not only long overdue, but the acting is top notch. Heidi Gardner’s barely repressed rage is something special.

You’ve seen the commercial a million times. It’s Christmas morning and someone reveals a brand new car to a loved one. As part of Lexus’ December to Remember, Beck Bennett reveals a brand new Lexus with a giant bow to his wife (Gardner) and their son (Timothée Chalamet). What initially appears as shock turns out to be fury and confusion over what is a selfish and short-sighted decision. Buying a car is a huge deal and isn’t something you don’t tell your significant other. More than that, Bennett’s character hasn’t been employed for about a year and a half and has no way of affording such a thing. The thread is pulled away, unraveling both how much of an idiot he is and how doomed their family life happens to be.

Then neighbor Mikey Day shows up and it hits another level. Beck Bennett is the expert at playing guys with misplaced confidence who haven’t come close to thinking things through.

The post The 25 Best SNL Holiday Sketches appeared first on Den of Geek.

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[justincourtneypierre]

In 2007 I was recording part of the third Motion City album “Even If It Kills Me” in New York with Eli Janney and Adam Schlesinger at the helm. My memory is not my greatest asset, but I believe it was winter and I believe it was a cold and miserable experience. New York. Not the recording session. Recording with Eli and Adam was one of the most incredible experiences I’ve ever had working with Producers. Eli was very soft spoken, calm, and chill compared to Adam’s intense, and frenetic (dissecting and reassembling several ideas in the blink of an eye whirlwind) force of nature. They were a good team.

I did not know Adam outside of making this record. I enjoyed his music, his many bands, the songs from movies and television shows he wrote, and the music he produced. So I guess maybe I did know him - through all that. I don’t know. The point here is that I wanted to offer a little moment behind the curtain to let you all in on what I experienced working with the man, to celebrate his essential brand of brilliance in the studio.

There is a song that stands out for me from that session. It’s called “Antonia“ (you can find it anywhere if you’re interested in hearing what I’m about to write). The original idea was fairly straightforward in terms of structure. Again, apologies if any of this is inaccurate... For once I had a great problem. I had too many options for lyrics, as the song is a laundry list of things I loved about a certain imaginary woman, the nuances, the weird stuff (I borrowed heavily from Tom Waits’ “First Kiss” in this respect). Anyway... I really only had an A part and a B part and they went back and forth for an eternity. Matt Taylor ended up writing the chorus music, which solidified the whole thing.

Then Adam got a hold of it.

He ripped the entire thing apart and dug around in its guts, throwing what felt like hundreds of ideas at us at warped speed, eventually helping us reassemble a far superior version of the song (you can listen to a live demo we did of the track on the 10th anniversary reissue of the album if you want to compare and contrast). It was amazing. He suggested that we do the little walk down B part on EVERY rotation instead of just the last two. When going to the chorus for the first time he had us not sing for two rotations, which was fucking bonkers. But it totally worked. Blew my mind. He had us add a solo (I’ll get to that in a minute), and before the solo had us double the little tag that would normally lead us back into the next verse. But instead of doing that, I got to lay down a “ripping” solo (which led to me on future albums doing way more of that sort of thing). I had never written a solo under duress before. He had me just play along (terribly) and improvise solo takes. He recorded maybe 8 takes in total and then cut and pasted the parts he liked together, even moving parts around to the front that I played at the end. It happened so fast. Then he played what he thought the solo should be back to me and I was floored. It was incredible. My only request was that I be given some time to learn this new cut and paste solo so that I could do it for real in a single take (if possible).

That day is suddenly coming back to me, flooding waves of nostalgia, a moment in time I didn’t pay enough attention to when it was happening (story of my life). Maybe that’s just what happens when someone dies. Things that you chalked up to just another winter day in a studio in New York now have more weight. I was working with, and I rarely use this word, a true genius, an artist unparalleled, a great fucking man, and I didn’t even realize it fully until years later. I’d run into Adam at festivals in Europe or randomly in New York here and there and it was always great exchanging brief and simple pleasantries. We were not close, but when you work intensely with someone on a piece of art, and you pour your soul into their hands, and allow them to reshape it into something new, something excellent, something you couldn’t have done on your own, you become forever tied to them in a way.

He will be missed by so many. He leaves behind a continent sized hole where his magic used to reside. My heart goes out to his family and close friends. I can’t imagine what they are going through on top of this slow motion horror show we all find ourselves living in. Please take a few hours and listen to some of his work and share it with others. Turn people on to him, rediscover him, or simply continue to enjoy the art he put into the world. My buddy Tony Thaxton put together a great Spotify mix of songs of his. You can check it out here: https://open.spotify.com/playlist/22qybPKx9zwSMXvBh9nLWX?si=dM9Y2IKnS_KQLhpP1UbTBg

Also, here is the only footage I could find of myself with Adam in the studio: https://youtu.be/499HPJ_rI1Q

I was working out a guitar lead for the song “Can’t Finish What You Started” around the 2:45 mark. We lost a lot of footage after Hurricane Sandy, so unfortunately these 8 or so episodes are all we have of that recording session.

So yeah... Maybe you’re a fan, maybe you’re a friend, maybe you didn’t even know who Adam was. Hopefully this tiny glimpse of my experience with him fills your heart with a little more joy. There is definitely sadness when I think of him, but there is much more joy. The world was made better by him having been in it. We still have his music. We still have his essence. Let’s listen. Let’s love. Let’s feel. Stay safe out there, good people. I hope to see you on the other side of this when all is said and done. Much love. -JCP.

[poorreputation]

Undertaker: The Last Ride

When I say I've been waiting years for this, I'm serious. Ever since Undertaker's loss at Wrestlemania 30, and shortly after that the news he would be on the Stone Cold Podcast, I've been eagerly anticipating seeing Mark Calaway speak as himself. Many fans have been hesitant to watch Calaway out of character, worried it would ruin the mystique of the Undertaker, but I've felt for years that the work put into these characters behind the scenes is just as fascinating as the fiction.

I watched episode one soon after it aired, and want to do a rewatch/reaction post before episode two drops tonight. Join me, if you wish.

If you've not seen the episode, a little content warning: there is blood, gore in a surgical setting (very, very graphic, but only there for a couple seconds at a time), needles, and implied injuries, including details of Mark's concussion at WM30.

CHAPTER 1: THE GREATEST FEAR

The series, all five episodes, takes place between 2017 and 2020. Chapter 1 covers Wrestlemania 33, and his match with Roman Reigns, which was intended to be his last.

This is the first time Mark Calaway's really opened up about his work, and himself in general. There's other instances of him being interviewed, even mixing fact and kayfabe, but never on a platform like this, certainly not with WWE.

Mark: You know they call me Santa Clause, now, right? Because I only come out once a year.

Jimmy Hart, being the sweetest: That's all you need to. You look great.

These backstage segments of Calaway with his coworkers are honestly some of the best parts of the episode. A transcript can only do so much justice.

Roman Reigns, upcoming opponent of the Undertaker, signs in at the lobby desk right next to Mark, being a smartass. Screw your camera guy, indeed.

Mark meditates on the struggles of working only once a year, and throughout the episode, chronicles the moments and injuries that make an already challenging schedule nearly impossible. Chasing the dragon that is the perfect match has lead him to a stalemate with himself and his character: if the Undertaker can go out in a match fitting of him at Wrestlemania, Mark Calaway will be happy.

Gah, baby 'Taker at his Survivor Series debut always gets me. No one could've called the run that boy was about to go on. I see other people call this portion of the episode the mythologizing of the character, building him up to be this big deal, and it's so funny to me because I wouldn't be watching if I didn't already think that of him. Like, y'all are just preaching to the choir, at this point. That, and so much that's been said here has been consistent with what Mark's peers have told about him in the past, it just feels like catching people up rather than building an image from scratch.

Say what you will about Vince McMahon (and there's a lot to be said), but there's something special about his comments on Mark Calaway. You rarely get to hear the guy talk candidly as it is, so when he does, you know it's important.

Calaway describing the weight, the prestige of Wrestlemania... and then the sneer he makes after that statement. I ain't a journalist, so I'll freely speculate: 'Mania's for the best of the best, and he just doesn't see himself as deserving to be there, not right now, at least.

Other wrestlers, from Orton to Edge to Batista, talk about what an honor, and mark of trust, it is to work with Undertaker, period. To work with him at Wrestlemania? You've arrived. The implication of what this would, or should, have meant for Roman is clear. It's a wonder if this image that his coworkers built up of him affected Mark's own expectations of himself. I mean, it's more or less spelled out in the episode, and it is the pro wrestling way to go out on your back, losing to someone who can use the rub, but, just throwing it out there, 'Taker had more pressure on him than most. That legacy, 'Mania, and the worry of managing to physically move during a match? It's overwhelming.

For those confused about why working once or twice a year would be so much more difficult than working hundreds of shows in that same time span, Steve Austin sums it up best: the road keeps you calloused and bruised. Ring rust from inactivity, due to being away or rehabbing an injury, gets you both mentally and physically. Knowing Mark's doing this process every year in his 50′s is insane.

During this, Steve plainly states that to go through that, and the many surgeries as Michelle McCool, Mark's wife, mentioned, it makes him a tough son of a bitch. It's an interesting note, considering we start this episode with Mark referring to that toughness as a thing of the past. His perception of himself, and what his peers see, is another fascinating aspect of the documentary.

Calaway talks about how nerve-racking the final workout before 'Mania is. The worry you'll hurt something while trying to train. Later, when other wrestlers talk about how calm, cool and collected 'Taker always seems... it's like they've built him up to be superhuman; Invulnerable to the same things and fears that plague all athletes. They talk about the physical decline, of course, that’s inevitable. But the mental side of things is where the biggest differences are.

Hoo boy, WrestleMania 30, the cause of my first major bout with depression. After that match between Undertaker and Brock Lesnar, not only was I crying and distressed, but there was then the news of Mark Calaway's hospitalization that was the numbing cherry on top. I remember registering how much more important the man's health was, but it was like I couldn't get any more upset. 

After that, I'd read up on so many rumors, that the only new bit of information here in the documentary is about when Mark's being rushed to the ER; how Vince infamously left the arena before 'Mania was over just to make sure Mark was okay, and, in new info, Brock was in the car with him. I cannot stress enough how humanizing that is to hear, especially considering how closely guarded Brock is about his persona, and how the man and the character are often so blended together. Time heals all wounds, but I really appreciated hearing that.

So, the injury for the uninformed: during the match with Brock, 'Taker got concussed. No one knows when it happened, much less Mark, who can't remember anything from after 3:30 PM that afternoon. To say I, and many others, were convinced this was it, he'd retire, would be an understatement. Many people felt he should retire, I did too, at one point. But, I could also tell Calaway wouldn't want to leave on such a note, because frankly, the match sucked. That's what happens when one person gets knocked the fuck out, and the other guy's gotta improvise. The fact 'Taker's going on muscle memory while he's out is nothing short of a miracle.

With WM30 in the books, 'Taker was at a low point, his confidence shot and a lot riding on his match with Bray Wyatt at WrestleMania 31 (or Play Button, if you prefer). Bray himself recalling how nervous he was, but how chill Undertaker appeared, in comparison.

Triple H's pep talk with 'Taker backstage is another gem, and I just love their friendship. I love the raw vulnerability this series is providing, both when it comes to 'Taker, and everyone else around him. I hope it's a constant through the rest of the docuseries.

WM31 was an ego boost, and leads into the superior Brock-Undertaker program in 2015. It's not highlighted as much, but it's fire, and I think allowed Calaway to redeem himself a bit, in his eyes. Not too much, since he didn't retire, but it made fans really start to come back 'round.

Now, I liked WM32 because I got to see it in person, and it was the first time I'd ever seen Undertaker live, so I'm a biased bitch. Anyone signing up to work Hell in a Cell is a ballsy move, and considering how old both 'Taker and Shane McMahon were going into that is no small feat. I liked it, it was a spectacle, and I was sports entertained. There is the implication, between showing clips of WM32 and 'Taker's appearance at the 2017 Royal Rumble, that Calaway wasn't satisfied with how the former turned out. It becomes fully fleshed out he's talking about entering the RR, and feeling intense regret, but that he was also disappointed with the former. Again, if he were happy with it, he'd have retired, but that's again the difference between what the fans see and what the wrestler sees. I, and I imagine roughly 100,000 others, had the time of our lives; Mark Calaway was, and still is, chasing perfection.

With RR 2017, Mark freely admits that he had no business being there. It sounds truly like his thought process in the moment, and not just the regret of how WM33 went down, and that the build for that match began when he and Roman went toe-to-toe at the Rumble.

Back to WM33 weekend. 'Taker's finished up the final workout, and is talking about his place on the upcoming card:

Mark: Regardless of my injuries, regardless of my age, regardless of everything that has happened, if I'm on the card, there's some young guy that's making a lot of the shows through the year, you know, that may not be on that card. So, it's my duty to make sure that it's worth putting me on the card. No one would probably say it to my face if I stunk it up, (but) I would know, and that's one of my biggest fears, and um, is becoming a parody of myself.

This is someone who's also been reading the rumor mill, the comments, general fan reaction. It's neat he's so receptive to fan interaction, and makes me wonder if he's actually been doing this for years, but it's also sad to watch him only see the negative sides. The Undertaker, as a character, wouldn't have worked for so long without innovation, so being open-minded is important. And, I'm all for Mark Calaway doing what he wants with his life, but, for him, will anything, any match, ever be good enough?

It's the night of the Hall of Fame 2017 and we see Mark and Michelle backstage greeting people. We get a shot of Mark saying hi to the likes of the late Bruno Sammartino, inductees Sean Waltman and Kurt Angle, and I just love how dolled up Michelle looks, whereas Mark's just in jeans, a dress shirt and a cap. I love their dynamic, so so much. Also, Mark and Kurt's friendship, that's adorable. One of the good things to happen when I found out about kayfabe was thinking how these characters who normally hate each other on screen, were really besties backstage. It's a thought that still tickles me to this day, and watching that in the episode on several occasions is a joy to behold.

Kurt's talking about 'Taker's role as locker room leader, and Mark mentions how it wasn't ever something he actively pursued, it just happened. Being locker room leader just seems to be yet another thing added to the legend of the Undertaker. Makes a bit more sense why Mark's peers put him on a pedestal.

Wrestlers are talking about how, very early on, Undertaker set the benchmark, the gold standard, of work every night. John Bradshaw Layfield goes on to say, "(Mark) was the yardstick. And if you did well, then pretty much you were in, if not, then you were out, because you knew if you didn't do well, it wasn't the Undertaker's fault." That explains why it hurts so much for 'Taker to not be at his best. I mean, it doesn't take a rocket scientist to figure that out, but it's fascinating to see all of these elements come together. It's also interesting to hear JBL build up 'Taker as the greatest of all time, and then plainly say he's never seen Mark in worse shape than he was heading into WM33.

On a lighter note, it's real funny to hear Mark and Roman talk about the latter's new twins (from 2017) considering he's got another set of twins on the way, now. Just in general, Roman going on about how much he loves talking to Mark about work, but mostly family and to hear the stories Mark's got to tell, you can see how much this match means to him. The prestige of working with 'Taker at any point, let alone 'Mania, he knows this is the highlight of his career. I can't help but respect Roman for that, and couldn't help but feel that way going into WM33. It's a stark difference from how I felt about Brock post-WM30, and I honestly thought I was prepared to watch Undertaker take his rumored loss at this show.

It's the night before 'Mania, and they're doing entrance rehearsals. The stage setup for this show was so cool, guys, it took inspiration from the theme parks that are littered throughout Orlando, and was a beauty to see live, especially when it got dark. And 'Taker's entrance, even in practice, is a spectacle.

Cuts to the day of WrestleMania 33. General nerves are felt, and the start of a very long day begins.

Mark: People say, "All you gotta do is go out there and chokeslam somebody, make your entrance, and everybody's gonna be happy." No. I'm not gonna be happy. Like when I say, and this isn't stupid man pride, or cliche stuff. I'm either gonna go out in a match that's befitting the Undertaker at WrestleMania, or I'm going out on my shield, one way or another.

And there we have it, the subject of this docuseries.

Roman talking about the weight of potentially being the last person to work with the Undertaker, it just makes you feel bad for him things didn't work out quite the way they planned. But, it's as JBL summed up before, no matter the outcome or if it's really 'Taker's last match, this is the biggest night of Roman Reigns' career. I know episode 2 will focus on the aftermath of WM33, and Mark's reaction, and what gets him to come back to wrestling, but I hope they get Roman's take as well. Is he as disappointed as 'Taker? Does he blame himself? Or, did he actually like what they did, flaws and all?

Content warning: they show the botched top rope dive from WM25, the one where 'Taker goes head-first into the mat. It's during the segment where Mark explains how he comes from the era of 'if you can move, you can make it to the ring'. He's okay, and we know he's okay, but it doesn't make it hurt any less to watch. They also mention the time he was severely sick and still worked a match with Big Show, and how he caught on fire in 2010 on the way to the Elimination Chamber match. Like, they actually show him engulfed in flames, then narrate how he went on to work the match. I love you, Undertaker, but JFC.

And now we're at the medical portion of the episode. Warning for needles.

Actual showtime for the match, and even now, 'Taker's entrance gives me chills. That feeling of happiness is indescribable, and is that precious something that never fails to make me smile.

So, everything else in the match is framed as great, brutal, well-done, and then that damn botched tombstone reversal comes up, and it's honestly the hardest thing to watch in the entire episode. I swear, it's the only bad thing in my eyes, and seems to be enough to make 'Taker dissatisfied. Again, I'm biased, with others saying his whole mood was off during the match, and that affected the overall performance, so what do I know? But, I will say this, ending 'Mania on such a grim note will always be a strange choice to me. I get it, if not the main event, where else would you put the Undertaker’s retirement match? Still, it completely changed my perception of the whole night, from riding high to finding myself depressed, once again. And maybe that’s exactly what all those wrestlers, namely Vince McMahon, were talking about. Instead of this being Shawn Michaels going out on a high note, it’s far more dour.

Mark: We'll see what tomorrow brings. 

And with that look, and the fact he's had a match as recently as March/April of this year, he won't be gone for long.

Preview for the next episode contains intense surgical imagery. Just a heads up.

Post-episode thoughts:

I learned very little new information, but that's not the the hook of this series for me. Undertaker's the first character I ever truly loved, long before the likes of Supernatural came into my life. An interesting dynamic is potentially seeing both the Undertaker retire, and Supernatural come to a close, in the same year. I don't find myself mourning either, because I've already been through that. Now, I just want to indulge in behind-the-scenes tales, and watch two of the most influential stories in my life come to a close.

I greatly look forward to Chapter 2 of The Last Ride, and the rest of the episodes to come.

[dokuhebi]

Shatteredxlookingxglass asked: For the Phobia prompts... Atychiphobia: My muse comforts yours after a (real or perceived) failure. -OR- Dipsophobia: Our muses drinking together. ~~ Dan @shatteredxlookingxglass​

Phobia Drabble Prompts Atychiphobia: My muse comforts yours after a (real or perceived) failure.  / Dipsophobia: Our muses drinking together. // @shatteredxlookingxglass The trees groan miserably as the deployed team pushes through thick and damp terrain. Familiar grounds branching off in to something far less known and safe. The forests surrounding Fire Country carried the risks of enemy shinobi, treacherous elements and beasts large enough to treat these expanding sequoia trees as little more than twigs beneath clawed or scaled feet. Unknown grounds or not however, as the group leaves behind the routes they have all explored throughout childhood, there is still one very familiar aspect to this. Danger itself. There is nothing new about the perceived sensation of a reaper tailing the group, waiting to find out which Leaf shinobi would be picked off first to be dragged to some unseen beyond.  Despite this graveness however, life continues to exist rather peacefully until chaos ensues. The greeting from a small rodent that scurries past, the ever pleasant and charming songs from the birds calling one another in the trees above. One particular little song, causing the viper to travel back in time in their own mind. 

“Why is she in a trap Taichou?” they are only eight years old, trained and talented enough to be deployed in to these lethal woods, with nothing more than a team captain as their guide. Their golden eyes are upon the small songbird, looking frantic in its prison, as the team captain stages another trap beside the one it is now ensnared in. It’s calls, pretty as they are, strike the child as a little sad. “She’s bait,” the man replies curtly, focused more on his task than the childs curiosities. Because food rations were now diminished, and he had a squad of shinobi relying on his lead. “But why do you want to lure a predator?” they ask again, childlike innocence compelling them to open her trap up for her release. As easy as coaxing a butterfly from a spiders web. Of course then, as Sensei had once told them, the spider would starve. Today, if they are analyzing their captains work correctly, it would be their team that starved. Although after meeting the birds eyes, the serpentine child has decided they very much wouldn’t be bothered skipping a meal on this evening. “I’m not baiting a predator. I’m baiting her mate.” That was the final answer the captain gave, and a firm lesson the child could not shake even in to adulthood. The little bird, clueless to its fate and the one awaiting its partner, would relentlessly call. And it would be the bond between two life mates that caused both to perish. Because hunters knew to exploit nature at ever turn. Because if one bird was caught, it would forever sing a song of rescue to its counterpart, and without fail, that counterpart would place fears aside to seek the other out. Be it a parent coming to a child, siblings, mates or cherished companions, care would be the catalyst. A jaded tale of love, if ever there were one. And while watching the songbird wailing in hope its partner would come, as if the other bird would ever be any help, the child watches with a little morbid criticism; stop calling, you’ll only get them killed.

On this mission, with Dan taking the position of team captain, a job that both offered honor to those who succeeded in missions or stripped it bare from those who failed, the serpent would once more encounter this lesson. This time however, they would be the foolish one who lured someone they cared for to harm. Ignorant to the fact that the danger they placed themself in, could so easily be translated over to a burden for someone else. Or so they would pretend. Dan had placed his team in a functioning order, but the serpent would break from it.  Pretending that amid this plan, an error was made where they could not properly take up the position they ought to. Pretending they had needed to improvise when something went wrong. It would be a purposefully made miscalculation on their part, knowing that Dan was never oblivious to them, knowing they could not escape the eyes of a trained Kato. In fact, they were betting on it. Within a few moments of intentional grave error, the serpent is well aware that they have walked in to a trap. One they admittedly would have survived with or without outside help. But only they know about their own ability to survive this without aid, and they would not need to prove this knowing their comrade wouldn’t be taking such a chance. Dan would arrive at their defense to mitigate the damage, he would arrive to ensure the vipers safety, as the two make quick work of the enemy forces. But the serpents action of drawing Dan away from his own position meant there were other casualties. Meant the part of the team abandoned faced another downfall. A downfall the serpent had calculated too, and found no sure way to avoid. They should have told Dan what they had sighted, they should have mentioned the inevitable loss. That was what a captain relied on, the honesty of the team, the cooperation of being a multi shinobi force. Orochimaru however, had feared Dan would ally with his team in the same fashion he had allied with the serpent in the heart of such danger. They were afraid, that he may meet the same fate. It is why they keep it to themself, why they can not bring themself to risk his life for the lives of those they barely know. It is also why, however, Dan ends up taking the brunt of failure. Why he is accused of losing a team, failing an assignment, and left with the mountain heavy guilt of that ‘fact’. Not a fact at all of course, if one knew there was a betrayal on the team. A betrayal due to something as innocent as a well formed bond - now, in the serpents experience, was that not merely nature at its most honest? They had on this night, been the little bird singing it’s companion in to death like a siren might. They were, and remain completely aware of it, the one who is the cause for the mans lowered morale and mood. The real culprit of failure. So it is perhaps, the least the can do to try help Dan drown away his sorrows for the evening. Why, on the sleepless night the two return home, they find themselves still clad in blood stained uniforms, hidden only by the dark cloaks that had shielded them from the outside weather, at the only open bar. These are times of war. Nobody notices the flash of a crimson stain, nobody asks whether or not someone has had too much to drink or not. They sit beside him, knowing they should be feeling remorse for their hand in this. That his guilt is a burden they chose to give him, feeling it a better consequence than death.  “The only thing that is not blue these days is the sky,” they mutter to him, observing the way the strong sake swirls at the bottom of their cup. Warranting a refill. Their golden eyes glance over to the man, offering the support a close companion ought to, company and agreement that life was just as insufferable as their currently downed comrade felt it was. Even if, at heart, they were simply relieved he had made it out in one piece. Even if his failure reflected in his eyes like broken glass. A little more sharp than broken perhaps. “We should just be glad it wasn’t you, or me,” they continue in the honesty of any shinobi who was both tipsy and well aware the man they spoke to was likely drunk enough to not remember what was being said, “places speak the names of everyone we know after all. I bet neither of us would ever sit at this bar again if the other died.” Because they have watched the way the dull but warm bar lights play tricks on the mans moon coloured hair, the way those same lights hit is ocean eyes. The way he takes up the space of the bar stool he sits upon, the way his frame blocks out the other patrons, shields them without thought from the room they prefer not mingling with, from the chilled breeze that threatens to crawl in from the open door. And they know, if that seat were ever empty, because the gods forbid something happened to him, they would certainly be unable to take their own seat ever again. It is when they catch the way the glass moves unsteadily in his hand, not curiously motivated so much as a result of impaired mobility, that they slip from their bar stool and settle the tab. Again - the least they could do. “That’s enough for tonight,” they mutter, more to themself than Dan, who was either saying something too drunk for them to understand, or else, was saying something perfectly comprehensible, but the serpent themself was the one too drunk to comprehend it. Whichever way it was, the midnight haired shinobi had decided the two have done enough poisoning for one night. Their own abode was closer, even if it did require a clumsy ascent up three sets of stairs. They keep a slim arm around the small of his back as they clamber up, once more unsure of whether their smaller form is giving him any support, or whether he is merely offering it to them. They had spent many nights interrupting his peaceful nights with their ideas. Entering with some new conclusion or finding, talking in their quiet but evidently enthusiastic manner, eventually succumbing to fatigue and falling asleep upon the very couch he offered them. Where the man would without fail find a blanket to draw over the serpent, daring not to interrupt the rare sleep they had managed. Tonight however, after fumbling with their locks, they would be the one to return that favor. Guiding him to their couch, helping him sit down and then eventually, covering him with a blanket after the polite effort of removing his shoes, cloak and flak jacket. Words are unspoken however, or perhaps only half spoken. They wonder if he knows them well enough. Did he hear it amid the rest of their ramblings? Did he hear it in their actions and behaviours? Did he hear it in their relief? Their excuses? Their every reaction - even their silence? ────   ‘I don’t want to lose you.’ Their svelte form sits in the gap left on the couch beside his abdomen, moving a strand of pale hair to investigate a gash on his forehead. Determining whether the cleaning could be left until morning, as to leave his sleep undisturbed. Finally determining that it could. It is not the only thought running through their mind however. They had made quite the promise to themself after all, one where they would not form attachments to people who were so fragile. Where they would not create a bond of any sort, when the human life was a fragile little flame so destined to burn out.  But now they had. Now they couldn’t say him leaving would have no profound impact on them as a person. And now, the only question they can both morbidly and fondly ask themself, as if looking back in to the eyes of that ensnared songbird, was who would be the death of the other first. 

[edmundodiaz]

#SKAMItalia Fedrico Cesari (Martino Rametta) replies to tweets from fans - TRANSCRIPT

tweet: i’ve started watching the series ten minutes ago and i already have a crush on martino #skamitalia

f: i think you’ll be disappointed here, i think. hi, everyone! i’m federico cesari, i play martino rametta and today we’re here to read your tweets.

card: and they lived happily ever after.

tweet: martino rametta, i’m not ready to let you go.

f: well, guys, i’d say martino deserves a holiday after everything that has happened to him, it’s christmas for him too, he needs to chill a little right now.

tweet: i’m going to miss martino’s season so much.

f: i’ll miss it too, i felt awful when we were done shooting it. i watch it at the same time as you, so i’ll miss it so much too, because i’ve never watched the last two episodes. the first time i “met” martino was at the auditions. mine was the first audition of all skam italia, ludovico tells me this all the time. the first time he saw me, he immediately thought “oh, you could be martino”. at first he proposed me the role of giovanni, then he proposed me the one of martino because, watching me playing giovanni, he saw martino.

at first, i was scared of representing something like this in the wrong way, obviously i was really scared, i had faith in ludovico’s work, but i thought i wouldn’t be right for it or that i was going to play a stereotype, but i have to say the work ludovico made with me has been amazing, because we went to dinner, we talked, he guided me day by day on set. he basically took me where he wanted to get, because he had all in his mind. i just went on set, acted unaware of what i was doing and he already had all this plan in his mind, but i have to give him loads of credit.

tweet: martino rametta is such an inspiration to me, you can go through very tough times and be an arse to people who didn’t deserve it, but you can also grow and learn to love and forgive

f: i’d say martino gave me a lot, he made me grow too, because his growth is undeniable day by day, clip by clip, it makes you understand lots of things, it made me aware of a lot of things.

the moment of this season i remember more fondly is the fight with the other guys, because it was very hard for us.

we love each other so much, we’re really close and trying to bring rage, resentment to the scene, having to physically fight each other was very hard.

it’s something that we are not like.

it was complicated but at the end of the fight, we hugged, holding each other for ten minutes and we said a lots of nice stuff, we said to each other “i love you, we made it, we did a good scene” because you could feel the emotions of that scene just like when a group of friends fight: you’re angry in that moment, but there’s also love, so there’s a mix of rage and love you have for those people.

there are many emotions all together, shooting it was really hard for us too.

tweet: i love the scenes between martino and his mum

f: i’d say introducing marti’s mum was a big stroke of genius by ludovico bessegato. martino unloads all his fears, doubts on her, he vents to her. it’s a stream of feelings you have to unload on the other person, it was really difficult, really hard. there are load of difficult scenes with niccolò, with the other guys. they really put me through the grinder this season, i was always crying.

tweet: skam italia made me cry the whole season. i’m closer to martino that to isak.

f: and i’m very honoured by this, because tarjei is a great actor and facing isak was really hard, but i’m glad you liked my martino.

tweet: when you realise martino’s coming out had more success than black friday, you understand that things are starting to go in the right direction. thanks skam

f: wonderful, guys, wonderful. feelings, not consumerism. the right way.

skam projected me into a reality that didn’t belong to me before, because i get a lot of love, support and this helps a lot, just considering the work i’ve done as an actor, this series has sensitised me a lot, it’s inevitable to fully empathise with the character and try to give your best, feel all his emotions. it makes you aware of many things and often it shows you how the opinion of those around you can change, just by playing a role like martino and i think this is an awful thing to see, but it makes you realise many things, like some people around me look at me differently just because i play martino and this makes you understand the difficulties people can still have in 2018. so inevitably, you become more aware of this.

tweet: i was thinking that skam italia sadly shows a very utopian scenario, because italy is not norway and if martino and niccolò walked in the streets even just holding hands, someone would insult them or worse. how ugly our society is.

f: i reckon that it’s true that in italy homophobia is much more present than in norway, because i’ve been in norway and i saw how people interact, i must say it’s true, but i think that showing martino and niccolò’s story in this way is also important, because it tries to make people understand that it is normal. so it’s important to normalise their love story, because it has to be treated as such: a love story between two teenagers. whether it’s between a boy and a girl or two guys, it’s always a love story. that’s what that matters.

in italy it’s rare that teenagers get shown in this way, it’s really rare. usually series tend to judge them or to have someone explains them their mistakes.

instead in skam italia, teenagers face reality, live reality, interact with each other, grow, but they don’t get judged, there isn’t a grown up eye that observes them and judges them.

they have the freedom of facing reality, of colliding with it, of making their mistakes and grow from them. there’s also great realism in what has been told. often ludovico says to us “i wrote your lines this way, but you can change them, if you don’t like them” and we go on set, maybe improvise, change them. so we’re really free to bring our adolescence into it.

so guys, i’ll say goodbye now.

how are you feeling after the last clip? did you like it? did it break your heart? but most of all, did you expect this killer plot twist? 

no, anyway, guys, keep following us, because we’ll be back with season three. 

there are going to be lots of great things, new themes, niccolò and martino are always going to be there, so what can i say? 

we’ll see each other in skam 3.

[sophielovesbarnes]

Let Us Live Like Flowers, Chapter 1

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x reader

Warnings: Angst, violence, swearing.

Word count: 3.7k

Author note: Here we are, new chapter fresh out of the oven, I was mind blown with how much love the prologue recieved, and I really hope you like this chapter as well.

Tittle inspired by Ellen Everett.

Gifs are not mine.

Masterlist

Prologue

June, 2019; Brooklyn, NY.

He misses everything about her.

Her lips, her laugh; the way the morning sun illuminated her eyes; the feeling of her warm skin against his, sleeping with her arms wrapped around him, chasing every bad dream away; the childlike smile that always embellished her face; the smell of her hair had in the morning, like honey and lavender; how she swung her hips and sang to herself while she was making breakfast, the feeling of her head against his shoulder while they danced in their living room, the way she looked at him, like he was her favourite person in the world, like he was perfect, as if his hands weren’t covered in blood.

It’s been almost four years, and the sound or her laugh still echoes in his head, her phantom haunts every corner of the house, the halls, the kitchen, the paintings she collected since she was sixteen, her shelf in the bathroom, her side of the bed, the half of the closet where all of her clothes and her hospital scrubs are hung, clean and waiting for her; his friends keep telling him that he should move, that a new house would help him, that he deserves a fresh start and that’s what she would’ve wanted.

He can’t leave, he can’t abandon the home they built, the home where they learnt how to breath again, the place that was supposed to be their safe haven; but mostly a part of him still expects her to come back, some nights he still waits up for her, eyes fixed on the door, and in his mind he sees her; pushing it open, tossing her keys in her handmaid clay bowl, throwing her shoes and her bag next to the entrance mat, with her hair pulled up on a messy bun, dragging her feet on the floor, forcing herself to move, and as soon as their eyes met hers would light up like Christmas lights, she would run to him and they would get lost in each other’s lips, “ I love you ” whispered between kiss and kiss.

But the door never opens.

Time doesn’t forgive, and the world doesn’t stop spinning, so he keeps moving, he goes to work, he hangs out with his friends, he goes to run and he comes back home, following the same routine every week.

Sam has taken the habit of crashing on his couch every Monday; he enters his house like he owns the place, they order food and eat in front of the tv watching any game that it’s on, drinking beer and celebrating or protesting when necessary.

Steve and Peggy visit him on Tuesdays and Thursdays; they bring over their kids and they make dinner, while he plays with Sarah and listens to James telling him about his day at school.

On Fridays the whole crew hangs out at Clint’s place, taking turns to flip burgers at the grill while the kids run at the open field, and the others chat and set the table, sometimes after dinner they improvise a baseball game and sometimes they sit in circle, sharing anecdotes or playing board games, the evenings are always filled with laughs and music.

He pretends that he doesn’t notice the concerned look in his friends’ eyes when they think he’s not looking, or the sympathetic smile they give him when anything related to her comes up.

He likes Saturdays the most; Nat picks him up at his house, they take their motorbikes and ride them across the city until they find themselves lost in the forest; once they find a nice spot, they sit on the ground, they watch the stars, they drink and they eat, but they rarely speak, that’s what he likes about being with her, that she doesn’t force things, she allows him to mourn, he doesn’t have to fake with her, she doesn’t look at him with pity.

She is the only one who actually understands his pain, so they grieve in silence.

He lost his soulmate, and she lost her sister.

***

He’s early as usual so the precinct is almost empty, there are a few officers walking around, three guys locked in the cell, and for the look on their bruise covered faces he assumes they probably got arrested after a bar brawl. Maria and Luke are already at their own desks, typing away on their computers, putting all their paperwork in order before the morning meeting.

At the kitchenette Bucky serves himself a cup of coffee; black, three sugars; and then heads to his desk, he’s up to date with his paperwork so he uses his time to check all the points that have to be touched during the meeting and to make sure that the team’s case reports are well done.

He is distracted by the sound of the elevator opening and sees Steve walking out, briefcase in one hand, decaf coffee at the other, uniform as tidy as always, he walks up to his desk, saying hi to the officers that cross paths with him, when he gets to him he places his cup on Bucky’s desk and the briefcase on the floor.

Steve has that smile, he is planning something, he can smell it.

“Morning Buck.”

“Hey punk.”  Bucky replies,  “How was your weekend?”

“It was fine, we took the kids to the park, James is decided to lose the training wheels and since Sarah is walking now Peggy thought it would be a good idea for her to explore new territories, yours?”

“Pretty, chill, went out with Nat on Saturday, stayed home on Sunday.” Bucky answers still analyzing Steve’s behavior.

“Good, good.”

Steve’s fidgeting with one of the bubbly heads from his desk, shifting his weight from side to side; he’s definitely up to something.

“So…” There it is, he knew it. “Peggy and I went out with some of her friends last night and she introduced me th-”

“Nope.” He cuts him off “I know what you are about to say, the answer is no.”

“Come on Buck, just meet her, she works with Pegs and is really nice.” Steve insists.

“No Steve, this dates you and Peggy send me to always end up being a mess and a waste of time.” Bucky retorts; it’s not the first time they have this conversation and with the closeness of the date he is already on edge, he doesn’t need to add more stress to his life; the look on Steve’s face makes him take a step back; he knows he has good intentions, taking a deep breath he is able to calm down, when he continues speaking, his tone sounds more relaxed. “Look I appreciate what you and Pegs are trying to do, but I’m not looking to date anyone right now”

“They weren’t all that bad, the one with Carol went well.”

Bucky laughs softly and plays with the rim of his mug.

“Yeah, you’re right, Carol and I did get along.” He takes a sip of his sip of his coffee and places it back on his desk. “I still hang out with her and her girlfriend.”

“Right, point taken.” Steve takes a deep breath and looks at him like he is trying to get him to keep speaking.

“I’m fine punk, really.”

Steve is about to add something else but seems to regret it at the last moment, he places the bubbly head back in its place and smiles again, taking his briefcase and his cup of coffee.

“See you in the briefing room?”

“Sure.”  

With this said Steve finally heads to his office, nodding to Maria and Luke as a hello, Bucky returns his attention to his computer but he is unable to focus, he gives up after re-reading the same page five times without being able to actually catch what it says, he drops the file over his desk and takes a sip of coffee.

His eyes end up focusing on your picture.

The one he took after you had just moved in to the first apartment you shared, there’s white paint in your nose and hair, and your head is thrown back in laughter.

He’s able to replay the sweet memory in his mind, the delicacy you had while painting, the accident that lead to a play fight that ended with both of you covered in paint sharing kisses on the floor.

A bittersweet smile it’s drawn on his lips, the anniversary of your disappearance is less than a week away, on Friday it will be four years since the last time he saw you, the last time he kissed you and held you in his arms; he feels the date lurking him, getting closer with every second that passes, and he is not ready for it.

This wasn’t supposed to happen; the two of you had already suffered enough, things were supposed to be different, you were supposed to be with him, to build a family, to walk every step together and that was taken away from him, he was supposed to protect you, he promised he would.

He failed.

Bucky gets so lost on his trail of thoughts with his eyes fixed on nothing that he doesn’t actually realise he’s gone until a voice snaps him out from his trance.

“Sarge?” Luke is staring at him, concern reflected on his eyes. “It’s time.”

“Yeah, thanks.” Luke nods and turns around, walking towards the briefing room, Bucky takes a deep breath and rubs his eyes, he after drinking a last sip of coffee, he takes his binder and follows Luke’s steps, walking across the team’s desks, giving back the smile Maria gives him.

When he enters Steve is already standing behind the podium and Cage is on the left middle desk flipping his badge on his fingers; one by one the rest of the team starts to arrive, Sharon and Maria are the first ones to come in, they sit on the frontal row with their vision focused on the front, they are followed by Mack and Lincoln who seem to be having a heated discussion about the match between the Destroyers and Atlantic City, they give a brief hello to everyone, sit on the desk next to Maria ‘s and continue with their debate, Jessica follows them closely, dragging her feet until the last row where she sits reclining on the chair, putting her combat boots over the table.

The room seems to fill rather quickly after that, after every sit is taken Steve clears his throat, silencing all the voices that fill the room.

“Good morning.” He greets getting a unison response from the squad. “We have a few important things we have to go over today, first of all I want to congratulate the whole team for taking Rumlow down, I know it wasn’t easy and you all did a great job.”

There’s a round of cheers and applause; it feels like a huge weight it’s suddenly lifted from the room, there are hand fives and hugs, Lincoln shuffles Daisy’s hair earning a playful punch on the shoulder and they both smile at each other with that shine on the eyes Bucky knows so well.

For a moment he is happy, watching the team that became a family for him, rejoice causes him a warm feeling in the chest.

“Okay, okay.” Steve says trying to silence the voices and earn the squad’s attention again, “Now, the bond forgeries, where are we standing there? Hill?”

“Got a hint from one of our informers, he linked the bonds with Victor Moreau, it’s an alias, the name has popped up in other cases but there is no actual record of him.”

Sitting next to him Darcy is keeping note of everything said.

“What’s our next step?”

“We are tracking him closely, to see if we can get a real name, all the banks have been notified, if he tries to change them he’s ours.” She states, getting a nod of agreement from Steve.

“Good, keep me posted.” He turns page on the report that he has over the podium and  turns his attention to Jessica. “Jones, Cage what’s the status on Klaue?”

“He is smart, dick has teenagers moving the coke in clubs and parties, they blend in.” There’s a small unison laugh when Steve gives a stern look to Jessica while mouthing language.

“We think he’s keeping the drugs on a warehouse under the name of Ahab Melville.” Luke adds.

“Klaue is using a goddamn Moby Dick name, we asked for a search warrant, but Hawley has been stalling it, says we don’t have enough evidence.”

“Then find it, bring in the kids he’s using to deal the drugs, one of them has to be able to link him to the drugs, keep pushing it, we don’t need a man like Klaue on the streets.”

Steve keeps going over the cases, taking note and giving advice when needed, eventually is his turn to speak, Steve lets him take control of the podium and sits next to him.

“The 71st asked for our help, there has been a series of burglaries following the same pattern, the victims receive an alleged call from their phone companies, they get asked for their schedule to program an upgrade on their system, a few days after the unsub breaks into the house and empties it.”

Darcy stands up and starts to deliver a paper sheet with a rough drawing of a man in it to each detective.

“Someone was able to identify him, he’s our principal suspect, keep your eyes open, and make sure to distribute the sketch, let everyone know his face.”

After the briefing everybody leaves the room, the rest of the day goes by uneventfully, Jessica manages to bring in two of the men on Klaue’s network, they get called in for a break in nearby Washington park, after they collect evidence and interrogate all the witnesses he heads back to the precinct and spends the rest of the afternoon doing paperwork and preparing his monthly report.

When he finally gets home he is greeted by the sight of Sam, who is scavenging his fridge and drinking a beer.

“How come you never have anything edible in here?” Bucky sighs with annoyance, leaves his keys on the clay bowl and drops his backpack next to the door. “I mean, seriously, there is beer, an orange, mustard and a litre of milk has been here for like a month, that’s it.”

“Well, maybe you should eat at your own house.” He answers and throws his tie to Sam’s head.

“Nah man, I like your couch better.”

“Birdbrain.” He mutters under his breath, when he feels something vibrating and rubbing against his legs, Bucky looks down and picks up the black and white cat, cradling him in his arms. “He is a birdbrain, isn’t him Bowtie? Yes he is.”

Bucky lays down on the couch, kicking out his shoes, dropping them on the floor, he scratches the back of Bow’s ear who leans in to the touch purring on his hand.

“ Where’s your sister Bowtie? Where’s Strudel?” Like summoned a ginger cat jumps on him, meowing softly and rubbing its head against his chest.

Bucky closes his eyes rests his head on the leather armrest, the cats fall asleep on top of him, lulling him with their breath.

At the kitchen Sam is going through his entire pantry on a probably effortless mission to find something to eat; he is right about the food, Bucky can’t even remember when was the last time he actually went to the supermarket.

He keeps dozing until he hears Sam approaching him, when he opens his eyes he sees his friend smiling and eating straight out from a Cheerios box.

“You are eating my cereal.”

“Yup.”

“Why are you eating my cereal?”  

“Because it’s the only thing you have to eat in here.” Sam jests. “Make space.”

“No.” Bucky replies calmly.

“ Move.” He says, trying to push his legs aside.

“I can’t, the cats are asleep.” Sam raises an eyebrow questioning him. “If I move I’ll wake them up.”

“They will get over it, come on man, the game is about to start.” He looks at him expectantly until he gives in and carefully moves the cats out of his lap, both of them protesting and then leaving, and then removes his legs from the couch and places them on the coffee table, Sam sits next to him and turns on the tv.

After the Rangers score their third career the Chinese they ordered finally arrives, they eat in silence until Sam steals the last egg roll from his plate, Bucky turns around to face his friend, giving him a death glare.

“Stop stealing my food.” Bucky says, hitting Sam with a pillow between each word, who looks at him and takes a bite from the roll, choking with it as soon as he tries to swallow, after Sam manages to catch his breath and looks at him with teary eyes they both burst laughing.

“Stop stealing my food.” You laugh and without breaking eye contact you grab another french fry from his plate and place it on your lips.

“I thought that whole “what’s mine is yours was” a thing.”

“Everything but my french fries misses Barnes.” He answers with a smug smile.

“How convenient.”  You reply and trap his face between your hands, running your fingers through his hair, leaning in to kiss him.

The sudden flashback leaves his lungs out of air, shutting his eyes closed he focuses on his breath, slowly he is able to recover a steady pace and his heart goes back to beating normally, without saying anything he returns his attention to the flat screen in front of them and acts as if nothing happened.

“How are you holding up?” Sam finally asks.

“I’m fine.” He answers after a few seconds, Sam nods and Bucky is secretly thankful with him for not pushing it any more.

Sam leaves a few minutes after the game giving him a pat on the shoulder and letting him know that he is available if he needs anything, the next days go by in a blur, one moment it’s Monday and the next thing he knows is that it’s already Thursday night and he is in his kitchen, drying the dishes that Steve passes hims and piling them on the pantry, Peggy is in the living room luling Sarah to sleep and James is already passed out on his couch; he feels spaced out, every time someone talks to him he feels like he is listening to them from behind a glass, he can’t focus or keep a normal conversation without having to ask the second part to repeat itself at least twice.

“What do you think? ” Steve stares at him like he is waiting for an answer,  which makes him realize he probably missed out a conversation. “Buck?”

“Sorry, what?”

“I was asking you what do you think about Rumlow and the deal he asked for” He repeats looking him with worry.

“I think a scumbag like him would say anything to stay out of prison.” He answers.

After they finish with the dishes he helps Steve to take the kids to the van, when Sarah is tucked in her carsit and James is buckled on the seat next to her Peggy hugs him saying goodbye.

“Call us if you need anything.” She states giving him a stern look, accent as thick as the first day he met her.

“Will do Pegs.” She climbs into the shotgun sit and Steve closes the door after her, turning to face him .

“Hey, are you sure you want to go to work tomorrow? You know there is no problem if you need to take the day.”

“Yeah, I’m sure, see you tomorrow.”

***

He stays awake the entire night, he knows that if he actually wanted to sleep he could just take one of the pills his doctor prescribed him but everytime he closed his eyes his mind would be flooded with memories of you.

So he doesn’t sleep.

At seven o’clock he gets up from his bed and heads to the shower, in it he throws his head back and lets the cold water wash out the tiredness; once he is out he dresses with black pants, white shirt and the tie you gave him for the last birthday he spent with you.

He is halfway through his breakfast when his phone starts to ring.

“Barnes.” He answers.

“Sarge, we have a 10-31c between the Sixth and Sterling.”

“10-4 I’ll be there in fifteen.”

He drinks the remanent milk of his cereal straight from the bowl and leaves it in the sink, once his teeth are brushed and all of his things are in his backpack he takes his keys and heads to the scene.

When he arrives to the scene there are two patrols and the forensics van already parked in front of the building in the entrance there is a young police officer waiting for him.

“Sergeant Barnes?” He nods in answer giving cue to the officer to keep speaking. “Peter Parker sir, nice to meet you.”

Bucky accepts the handshake Peter offers and walks towards the scene.

“You were the one who called it?”

“Yes sir, there was an anonymous call to 911, I was the one closest.”

“Any witnesses?”

“Just one sir, one of the detectives is already interviewing him.”

“Thanks Parker.” Peter smiles at him as he enters the scene, right after crossing under the barricade tape he is intervened by Bobbi, her eyes are teary and filled with worry.

“Sarge…”

“What’s wrong Bobbi?” She opens her mouth but not a single word comes out, he keeps marching towards the scene leaving her behind, when he feels a hand holding firmly his shoulder.

This time is Jessica the one stopping him, looking around he notices that most of the eyes are fixated on him, he removes her arm from his shoulder and wades through the detectives and the coroners finally reaching the scene.

As soon as he does the floor seems to sway under his feet.

There’s a corpse on the floor, covered by a white blanket, and on the wall there’s a missing poster, with the word “found” scribbled in blood.

He falls on his knees unable to breath, the world spinning around him.

The picture and the name in the poster are yours.

Chapter 2

A/N: Thank you so much for reading, let me know what you think, feedback is always appreciated and my asks are always open.

Let me know if you want to be tagged.

Requests are open.

10-31c: Homicide

10-4: Affirmative.

[ergomaria]

The Past is Gone (but something might be found) - Preview

(Almost nobody reads this blog, so I can post spoiler-y stuff without too much fear. I’m currently working on something that absolutely delights me, even if nobody else will appreciate it.)

The planet had a strong connection to the living Force, so there was a good chance that whatever Alek was sensing belonged to one of the locals. His shuttle’s scanners had revealed several settlements across the vast jungle, indicating that there was at least one sentient species. Perhaps they would have more information about what could have happened to the Hawk’s crew. Drawing a breath, he desperately hoped that his reputation as a tyrant and murderer hadn’t spread here. If it had, he supposed that he could use fear to pry out any information.

Slipping into the dense foliage, Alek kept one hand hovering near his hip where his lightsaber was concealed beneath his cloak. He could feel the comforting thrum of the crystal, a more than generous gift from Vann during a time when the other man owed him absolutely nothing. It served as a strange reminder of who they once were, even if those memories could sometimes be painful. But things could be worse. At least he had memories. Shaking his head, he refocused his attention on the surrounding jungle, sensing that the Force signatures were much closer than before. Apparently, the individuals were on the move and headed towards him. Tensing, he mentally prepared himself for whatever confrontation might occur.

The last thing Alek expected was for a blur of black-and-gray to hit his chest with astounding speed, the sheer inertia enough to knock him down despite his size. His eyes blurred for a moment as the back of his head struck the soil and when his vision returned he thought for sure he was hallucinating.

Sitting on Alek’s chest with his cyan lightsaber drawn was Vann… or at least Vann as he’d been in his late teenage years. Deran, some horribly traitorous part of his mind whispered. The boy couldn’t be older than seventeen or eighteen, his face losing the very last of its childish softness and his limbs graceful yet seemingly too long for his body. By this age, he’d finally grown into his looks and he was undeniably handsome, though in an oddly innocent way. For whatever reason, he was still wearing his spacer clothing even though it was slightly too loose on his leaner frame. The main ‘saber of his adult self was grasped confidently in his right hand, the second hilt still clipped to his belt as he hadn’t mastered Jar-Kai until his twenties.

“See, I told you there was someone here!” Glaring out towards the trees, the teen never lowered his weapon. His voice, and how Alek had missed it, still had the crisper accent of his youth without the Outer Rim drawl that he’d acquired during his time as a mercenary.

It was the sheer shock that kept Alek still and quiet, his brain completely failing to process what his eyes were seeing. Things didn’t get any better as two more figures appeared out of the vegetation, both teenagers of roughly the same age. One was a boy, broad-shouldered but a still a bit too slim for his ridiculous jacket to fit properly. That had to be Onai. Stars, the resemblance to Dustil was actually disturbing. The other figure was much smaller, almost delicate in appearance since she had yet to pack on muscle from frontline fighting and trekking across hostile worlds. Her blue eyes were wide as she half-hid behind the taller teen and his matched set of pistols.

Reaching out his awareness, Alek nearly choked at what he sensed. The two Force signatures that he’d distantly recognized had been Vann and Meetra, or at least how they’d appeared through the Force at this age. The former was still astonishingly bright, though he lacked the chilled cloud of darkness that he’d acquired throughout the Mandalorian Wars. The latter… It almost brought tears to Alek’s eyes to sense the shimmering radiance of Meetra before Malachor, her presence bright and blooming. His golden Consular was back in all of her glory rather than limping along as a walking wound in the Force.

“Who are you and why are you here?” Vann, or at least his teenage self, was bringing his lightsaber ever closer to Alek’s prosthetic, his expression fierce though his dark eyes were uncertain.

Once again, the former Sith’s brain stuttered to a halt. How could anyone not know him? He was probably the most recognizable man in the galaxy thanks to his scalp tattoos and prosthetic jaw. It was impossible! Unless…

It was probably a bad sign how easily Alek’s mind adapted to the impossible. Something had clearly been damaged by the Star Forge because he was already considering the idea that this trio had been turned, mind and body, back to the people they were as teenagers. If that were the case, it was understandable if they didn’t recognize him. He’d been so changed by age and his own experiences that he bore no resemblance to the black-haired Jedi he’d once been. He was a stranger to them all. A large, scarred, fairly dark stranger.

This could end very poorly.

Alek fleetingly considered giving the teens his real name even though it would only raise more questions, most of which he couldn’t answer and some that he just didn’t want to. The longer he thought about it the more he realized that this situation had far too many variables for him to even begin explaining his complicated history with the adults that these teenagers became. For now, he just needed the trio to trust him, at least until he could get them back to their allies. Unfortunately, he’d never had Vann’s talent for improvisation or Meetra’s gift with honeyed words. That had to be why he blurted out, “My name is Naver!”

Apparently, the Star Forge had also caused his intelligence to plummet. ‘Naver’ was just ‘Revan’ backward.

“Are you a Jedi?” Meetra was slowly creeping out from Onasi’s shadow, her eyes falling to the lightsaber hilt that had been uncovered by Vann’s flying tackle. Next, she took in his nondescript brown cloak, her awareness drifting out like a warm breeze.

Given the clues, it was a reasonable enough question. It was also the best cover identity Alek could think of. “I am. I was passing by this planet and I sensed distress… some type of disruption in the Force. I came down to check that everything was alright. Is it?”

Narrowing his eyes, Vann also examined the former Sith through the Force. “What did you say your name was? I don’t recognize you, and I live on Coruscant.”

“Do you know every Jedi in the Order?” Arching a brow, Alek was pleased to see how quickly the question unbalanced the teen’s bravado. “And no, you wouldn’t know me. I’m a Sentinel who spends most of my time at the edges of known space. I come to Coruscant once a year at most and it’s rare that I stay for more than a few days.”

It was a reasonable lie for two reasons. The first was that it would excuse some of Alek’s darkness. He wouldn’t be the first Jedi to ‘go gray’ from time spent away from the main Order. It would also help to explain his unusual lightsaber should he need to wield it. Orange was close enough to yellow that he could probably think of an appropriate explanation.

“So, uh, do you know this guy?” Teenage Onasi sounded remarkably less uptight, his eyes shining playfully.

“No, but if he’s a Knight of the Order we should be able to trust him.” Stars, Alek had forgotten how naive Meetra had been before the war.

“We don’t have any proof that we can trust him!” Still eyeing the ‘Sentinel’ with a healthy dose of skepticism, Vann gestured for the blonde to stay back. “I know for a fact that anyone can buy a ‘saber on the black market just to claim that they’re a Jedi.”

It was time to take a risk, at least if Alek wanted to figure out what was going on. “Deran, right? Master Kavar told me about you the last time I was on Coruscant. He was very impressed by your remarkable progress in Juyo.” It was a vague enough statement that it should land well with either of the teenage Jedi.

“You know Kavar?” Meetra arched a brow, clearly torn between caution and curiosity.

“Of course I do. Even Sentinels have to train with the Battle Master on occasion.” Nodding to the figure still sitting on his chest, Alek added, “And of course, almost everyone knows about the Order’s prodigy… Even if the complaints sometimes outweigh the praise.”

This slight dig was enough to make Vann grow pale, a mixture of embarrassment and abject horror dawning across his features. He quickly masked it again as he jumped to his feet and backed away. “Er, well, I… I was just being cautious. To protect the others since they’re probably less capable.”

Alek had only intended to sound like the various Knights he remembered from childhood, most of who chided any Padawan they met as a reminder to be mindful. But he’d forgotten how poorly Vann, or he supposed it was currently Deran, had handled their critiques. As an apology, he hastily added, “You’re wise to be cautious. Never trust a stranger, even if they have a seemingly friendly face.” A sardonic laugh unintentionally burst forth. “Not that my face is anywhere near friendly.”

(PLOT: Vann, Meetra, and Carth touch the wrong thing at the wrong shrine and are turned into themselves at 18. Alek finds himself paying his penance to the Force when he has to simultaneously watch over the trio while trying to figure out how to restore them to their proper ages.)