#i was going to post about a parade of providence at some people since its one of my fav parts of The Essay

[iridescentmirrorsgenshin]

hi! i was thinking about the difference in kaveh’s reaction in a parade of providence’s ending when it is alhaitham vs the traveler telling him about his father with relation to sachin. with traveler, kaveh readily and openly admits that he still feels guilty anyway. with alhaitham, he curiously doesn’t, and I wonder if that’s conscious or unconscious. Does he know, however subconsciously, that alhaitham disagrees with him feeling guilty over his father’s death, or that alhaitham was trying to help him overcome that guilt? but he is not ready to let go of it so he specifically doesn’t mention it to not provoke a discussion and give alhaitham the chance to further show him reasons why he shouldn’t feel guilty? both to avoid being swayed and more arguing about a painful topic… (or maybe he just got distracted by alhaitham’s teasing about ‘thank you’s. or maybe the teasing was alhaitham’s olive branch and a way to go back to their usual banter because he knew the new info was still not enough and kaveh wasn’t ready yet…)

anyway, just wondering about how kaveh, while having no problem discussing delicate and private matters with alhaitham (this conversation, and then when he was homeless at the tavern) presumably because he trusts him and still feels close to him in a familiar way, is very, very careful to not mention his guilt still… could also be trauma after their final thesis argument, maybe?

hiya!! thank you so much for this ask!! HAPPY ONE YEAR TO A PARADE OF PROVIDENCE!! <333

you raise extremely valid and scrummy points, thank you for giving me an opportunity to talk about this event hehehe

i think it's deliberately ambiguous as to kaveh's thinking here, as you've said, with the traveler, kaveh openly admits that although his father's depressive slump after the interdarshan championship and him joining a research project in the desert wasn't directly connected to him, rather it was sachin's influence, kaveh still believes he was the catalyst for this chain of events, and therefore he believes he is still to blame

with alhaitham, however, this mention of guilt is omitted, and kaveh thanks alhaitham for letting him know about 'all this', which reads not only as alhaitham letting kaveh know about sachin's influence over his father, but also as a reference to their discussion about their respective philosophies - with alhaitham concluding that their issue is not who is right or wrong in their approach to life, because as is concluded within this event - 'correctness' is a subjective way of thinking; alhaitham being 'right' about egoism, or kaveh being 'right' about altruism, ultimately doesn't matter, but, to alhaitham, what does matter is sacrificing oneself for the sake of a subjective ideal - this is a fate he does not want for kaveh

the difference in context between the traveller telling kaveh about sachin versus alhaitham, is that kaveh knows that alhaitham is looking into sachin but he doesn't know why alhaitham is specifically interested as he (rightfully) knows that alhaitham isn't interested in nihilism. this contradiction in alhaitham's behaviour is such an issue for kaveh that he repeatedly questions it within the remainder of the event after discovering alhaitham's note, seemingly about sachin, but addressed to kaveh in a language only they know. when the traveller reveals the news to kaveh, this context is removed, and the connection between the discovery and alhaitham is severed. the element of personal has been omitted.

when alhaitham tells kaveh the news, however, kaveh questions why alhaitham is interested in sachin's research, only for alhaitham to tell him that it isn't because of philosophies at all - it's due to sachin's connection to kaveh's father. this is personal. alhaitham is the only one who knows about the source of kaveh's guilt, in comparison to the traveller and paimon, who kaveh evaded confiding in. it's revealed to kaveh here that alhaitham has personally looked into this matter for kaveh's sake - but the question left unanswered is why?

in terms of kaveh's understanding of alhaitham, this is a pretty big deal, since kaveh interprets alhaitham as constantly criticising his ideals and his philosophies (whereas, alhaitham is actually highlighting the detriment of kaveh's pursuit of his ideals). alhaitham openly stating that they have moved on from asserting 'correctness' over each other, and that this isn't the issue, actively prompts the question of what the actual issue is - coupled with this is the impact of alhaitham's actions in this event. alhaitham leaves kaveh a cryptic note about the idealist never being able to accomplish happiness for themselves if they detriment themselves for the sake of achieving happiness for others, which kaveh (rightfully) doesn't understand in relation to sachin. and then alhaitham reveals to kaveh that he looked into his father's disappearance, and kaveh is not the sole instigator as he believes himself to be.

your point about kaveh's guilt never openly being discussed is crucial here i think in terms of subtext. the source of his guilt, being his belief he lead to his father's passing, is questioned by paimon and the traveler, to which kaveh evades telling them. alhaitham is the only person who does know the reason kaveh detriments himself in his altruism, as shown in their argument in their akademiya days. alhaitham looking into sachin must tell kaveh something, but again, it isn't revealed exactly what kaveh thinks, and alhaitham never reveals the reasons why he looked into it, and what he hopes to achieve.

although i think this is more due to narrative reasons, the wounds left from their argument are definitely a factor in this evasion of mentioning kaveh's guilt - a parade of providence deliberately highlights the miscommunication between alhaitham and kaveh, and this is solely due to their past argument. kaveh not mentioning his guilt could be because he doesn't fully understand why alhaitham has looked into this incident for his sake, and alhaitham says nothing more about it because he knows it's still too early for kaveh to process - narratively, i think this is what's at play here

alhaitham teasing him is definitely a way to revert back to their normalcy, however, i also think it serves as a distraction - and it works!! kaveh is relatively cheery in comparison to how upset (as described by paimon) he is when the traveler tells him the news. narratively wise, i think it's a good place to leave it as nothing is inherently confirmed - the potentiality for kaveh and alhaitham separating is eradicated; kaveh and alhaitham continue living with each other, and kaveh is seemingly no longer intent on moving out of alhaitham's house, having thanked alhaitham for his words, rather than finding them 'infuriating'. this is an open ending and gives their narrative arcs freedom to potentially (hopefully) be developed in the future

(from the leaks, i'm going to say that the 'good' ending, or the ending that coincides with the arc that these characters are undertaking, is the ending in which it is alhaitham who tells kaveh of sachin's involvement with his father - i'll have more to say about this at another time!!)

Thank you again for your ask?? Your points were really insightful into their messy little psyches!! Everything you said rings true <333

[bettyshoweduptotheparty]

Midnights is defined by duality: The story of an unreliable narrator and performance art (Part 1)

One year on, I think I've finally figured out what midnights is about. And it might surprise you.

The midnights album has just celebrated its first anniversary. And having listened to these songs for the last 12 months, staying up late to watch live streams of the Eras tour, and at times being unable to escape news about Taylor on every medium, I finally have an idea that makes all of this make sense: This is Taylor's duality era. And she wants us to notice. Join me on the ride if you want to know more :)

I made a post a few weeks ago about how the Midnights aesthetic has the ‘two Taylors’ duology: Private vs public, which is the lead theme that carries over into the music and most recently also into her public image. Midnights had a mismatched visual to it from the very beginning with the depressed 70s look (announcement photo and vinyl covers) and the glamourous midnight blue (cover image and public appearances).

The two Taylors in the Anti Hero mv really drove home the message for me that this album is about two versions of the same story, and Taylor is the writer and narrator. And while I'm sure that these two versions have existed for a lot longer than the midnights era, they have not previously been so prominently next to each other. In fact, the very point of having the public narrative, is to keep Taylor's private life out of the public eye. She has never shied away from providing the 'stories' that her fans want to see in order to relate to her music, and as the girl that made her fame with songs about heartbreak and fairytale princes, that usually meant being seen with a man that these songs could be attributed to. And she made sure people would make the connection, be it with scarves that change ownership, or foxes on shirts:

(Btw you can't deny how effective this was, with just a few photos she managed to hang an entire album on each of these men!)

So, acting is not new to Taylor. In addition to appearing in a few feature films and TV shows since 2010, she's done this public performance for well over a decade now. And she has been vocal in recent years about her intention to go into filmmaking, so we know she's able to tell stories in multiple ways. She's a storyteller first and foremost, maybe the best of our generation. But is she a reliable narrator?

What does 'unreliable narrator' mean?

A story told by a so-called unreliable narrator, is usually a first person narration, where it turns out that the person telling the story was either lying or in some other way unable to give a truthful account of events (e.g. hallucinating or dreaming). That usually means that the audience is left with having to interpret for themselves what really happened and what was real or not real. Famous examples of this kind of storytelling are the 2010 psycho thriller 'Black Swan' with Natalie Portman, or the YA novel 'We were liars' by E. Lockhart. If you like stories that leave you guessing, check those out ;)

So, why is Taylor an unreliable narrator? For those fans that have paid attention to her lyrics, it has long been evident that her songwriting and public narrative don't match up. The most obvious theme being her 17-year run of writing songs about secret relationships and hiding, while she was parading men around in public to be photographed with. But, as we know, most people ignore it because it's just easier than digging deeper into lyrics. But now with Midnights, I'm starting to think she wants people to notice the duality and start to question her narrative. The sheer number of songs on that album that have strong double meaning or draw attention to lying or distorting the truth is astonishing: Right out the gate with track 1 we have Lavender Haze, a pretty loud song about bearding using the very well established queer reference of lavender. (And maybe she leaned out of the window a little too far with that title, because we all know the gaylor uproar was so loud when the title was revealed, that she had to backpedal and hetsplain it.) Immediately followed by Maroon, the song that has probably singlehandedly turned the most swifties into gaylors since Bettygate of 2020... Then on to Anti Hero, the ultimate duality song that also makes mention of lying and scheming, same as Mastermind. High Infidelity and You're Losing Me join the ranks of songs that look like they are about romantic relationships on the surface, but could also be interpreted to be about Taylor's relationship with fame and her fans. High Infidelity is a play on words of the term High Fidelity or HIFI, which is a 90s sound technology that refers to truthful reproduction of sound. High INfidelity is therefore a genius way of referring to both cheating and unfaithful reproduction of sound, almost like someone who makes music that isn't quite truthful... We also know from Aaron Dessner that this song was written following the 2021 Grammys and in the light of the whole William Bowery grammygate situation... I think there is point to be made about this song drawing attention to lying in a big way.

The timing of the release of You're losing me right around the time that her breakup with Joe made the news also feeds the narrative of a breakup song. But in this very 'breakup song' she says You say, "I don't understand," and I say, "I know you don't" and talks about sending signals that fall on deaf ears. Doesn't that sound an awful lot like 'I gave so many signs'? What does she know the addressee won't understand? Is it that when she finally reveals all her lies 90% of her fans will be shocked to their very core? On the exclusive CD version that has this track on it, it also immediately follows Dear Reader which on the track list looks like this:

Dear Reader You're Losing me (Does that look like a message? I think it does...)

By the time we make it to Dear Reader, she's basically told us 'I'm a liar who hides behind fake lavender relationships who charms everyone like a sleezy congressman, I'm the narcissistic Anti Hero you can't trust who schemes like a criminal and plans out everything like the puppet master I am, just so you like me and therefore you shouldn't look up to me, but I know you still will.' If that doesn't scream 'I want you to question everything I say or do' I don't know what does. Which brings us to performance art.

What is performance art?

Performance art is any kind of visual art that involves a dramatic performance aspect. To explain how this relates to Taylor and who she may have taken inspiration from, I refer to the brilliant Kristina Parro on TikTok:

Ok, groundwork is laid, but this is getting too long. Part 2 will be relating this to upcoming music releases and media coverage but that will have to wait til tomorrow.

As always, thanks for humouring me guys!

[skippyv20]

Skip, Julie here. Thanks Sandiedog. I just knew you were the perfect person to track down a traitor to HMQE11 and KC3. Tomatoes!! Waste of good food!! Surely the horses on Horse Guards Parade could have provided good pelting material.

Nigeria. I read that a person is upset that in their opinion someone has provided information re Africa ( yes I am fully aware it is made up of many many countries today (althoughmany people were never taught that. I know I wasn’t) and includes Nigeria) in that simply because it was a story re Harry and his wife going there for a visit. Clearly the information provided came from history books because I have read the same information. We all are very aware that history is written by the victors just as we are aware that we today do not actually know the truth in our own counties past except for written or verbal teachings and how accurate they are is anyone’s guess.

I am sorry that the person is highly offended. I am also sure the person who contributed the information was providing information she read in a history book or was taught or maybe even teaches history.

I read nothing in the information that I perceived as racist but we each feel our own pain so it’s not for me to tell people how to feel. I’m sure no one would intentionally try to hurt others on this blog. The part about English paying a lot of money to slavers to stop the practice of enslaving and selling men, women and children I have read and seen documentaries on.

This is a place where we value education and knowledge so if the person who has a better understanding of the facts due to different education I am sure many of us would appreciate learning about it.

We don’t come on here to abuse or cause offence. We come to learn ( and we have so many knowledgeable people it’s amazing the breadth and depth of knowledge) to distress (watch the animals - it’s priceless and way cheaper than therapy) learn about religion ( I’m catholic but love learning about other religions and how and why they have different views). We learn recipes, artistic pursuits, computer tricks even Jam making and gardening. Did you Know is always educational and the photos of different places in the world are brilliant.

Again I feel sorry the person felt offended, I truely am, but Skip would never intentionally post racial slurs. However, we are all different and feel differently about some things that we read but with people from many countries, cultures and backgrounds coming to this safe haven from a world that is turning nasty but she nor anyone else can determine how someone will react to any post.

I think at times things can be confusing as to what some are saying or thinking.  I find I get confused at times.  Not all people have been here since day one like you and I Julie, and as a result have missed much!  We think the way we do because of Harry’s wife, definitely nothing to do with race, we always have made it clear….its her actions, she could be red and striped for all we care.  So I can see someone taking offense when we are talking about Nigeria, if they don’t know where we are coming from.  We don’t slam other countries in this community.  God knows our own countries are a mess….thank you for this great post.  You always bring clarity.❤️

[creative-anchorage]

As a digital migrant rather than a native, I remember how amazing it felt to stumble my way around the internet in the 90s and early 00s, uncovering its unexpected nooks and crannies with astonishment and delight; it was an exciting and genuinely joyful time. Now I watch other people shout at each other, assailed by news of catastrophes and bombarded with adverts for horrible trousers and cryptocurrency for the further enrichment of billionaires. I scroll, jaded, trying to recapture that sense of wonder I used to feel. Thankfully, there are still off-the-beaten-path pockets of astonishment out there and I thought it might be nice to gather some of them together. So, here is a selection of online things I love, and that other people I asked love – old and new stuff that is fascinating, beautiful, edifying and, above all, fun. Maybe one or two of them might give you a bit of internet joy back, too.

Dogs in Elk

Do me a favour: Google “dogs in elk”. Perhaps one day this post on a long-defunct forum will vanish into the ether, or perhaps it’s sufficiently beloved to survive, but either way you need this hilarious shaggy (bloody) dog story in your life. It was written by Anne, whose dogs discovered an elk carcass, got inside it and refused to leave. Anne and I once exchanged emails, so I can assure you that she exists and that this really happened.

The Fish Doorbell

There is a dam in the Netherlands where migrating fish get stuck, since it rarely opens in spring. The solution: an underwater camera linked to a website where viewers can press a button when they spot fish. That notifies the lock operator, who can open it up and let the fish go on their way. Ooh, I have just seen two! Press the button!

@crescentshay

Shay Rose is an effervescent and endlessly inventive costume-maker who shares her projects on Instagram. Nothing is too bonkers for her: a “social distancing” dress that enveloped her in a 3.7 metre (12ft) circle of pink tulle, anime cosplay or a fancy-dress costume that turned her into a perfect lifesize version of one of those stocking-filler wiggly worms on a string.

Strange Flowers

In his Wordpress cabinet of human curiosities, the Australian academic James Conway writes potted biographies of daring, transgressive, dangerous-to-know eccentrics of the past 200 years. Choose at random and you are unlikely to be disappointed, but how about Violette Murat, the fin de siècle lesbian who kept a decommissioned submarine in which to smoke opium, or Marchesa Casati, who, naked beneath her fur coat, wore a necklace of live snakes and paraded a cheetah on a lead?

Radiooooo

Pick a country from the world map, pick a decade and Radiooooo plays you music from that time and place (refined to slow, fast or “weird”, if you want to be more specific). I am writing this to a soundtrack of 1960s Morocco and feeling more cosmopolitan than I have any right to: “Oh, you’re not familiar with Abdelwahab Agoumi? You should check him out.” More seriously, Radiooooo gives you that expansive feeling that the world is vast, various and infinitely creative. That’s nice.

Crime Pays, But Botany Doesn’t

This YouTube channel describes itself as “a low-brow, crass approach to plant ecology & evolution as muttered by a misanthropic Chicago Italian”. A gruff botanist called Tony tells you about esoteric plants, and it is exceptionally soothing.

Kottke

Sifting through the internet to provide a miscellany of interesting stuff is a real talent; Jason Kottke’s magpie eye has been reliably curating interesting stuff – short, long, funny, serious, totally out-there – since 1998. Recent highlights include the best visual illusions of the year competition, Japan’s decorated manhole covers and stunning photos of the Milky Way.

Weird Medieval Guys

Check out the titles of some of these Substack posts by the historian Olivia Swarthout and tell me you don’t want to read more: “What does a biblically accurate angel look like?”; “No, the king doesn’t own all the swans in Britain”; “Do you have less free time than a medieval peasant?” Clickbait, but medieval (and highly informative).

Mimi Smartypants

The consistently hilarious Chicago-based medical publisher Mimi Smartypants has been blogging since the internet was just fields of billowing unspoilt html and her riffs on whatever amuses or outrages her – public transport encounters and the general absurdity of life – are endlessly delightful. Her newest entry describing the deficiencies of linen sheets made me laugh out loud (“Would you like to take a nap on Nan Pierce?”).

Sandwiches of History

An American man called Barry delves into old recipe books and then taste-tests the sandwiches he finds in them on YouTube. They are usually an affront to God and man (ironed bread and mushroom soup, condensed milk, flour, egg and vinegar) but Barry gives each one a fair go and a generous assessment. We should all be more Barry.

Closer to Van Eyck

This incredible site is dedicated to Jan van Eyck’s much-stolen Ghent Altarpiece, featuring the 15th-century Flemish master’s deeply weird Adoration of the Mystic Lamb. Zoom in on every brushstroke and piece of craquelure, check out the X-ray and infrared imaging, delve deep into the strange history and iconography and pretend you are one of the posh experts on Fake or Fortune … hours of fun.

My80stv

Whatever year you are nostalgic for, scratch the itch here with a compendium of TV clips that you can channel-hop through as if you were watching telly in, say, 1989. It is very US-centric, but it gives me the time-travel feeling I crave. Other decade versions are also available.

David Rumsey’s Map Collection

Cartography enthusiast David Rumsey has put his entire collection of more than 150,000 maps online, from 16th to 21st century, terrestrial, maritime and celestial. It is the perfect place to get lost (sorry).

Found in a Library Book

The Oakland public library uploads the things people leave behind in library books (usually as bookmarks) to its website: it is a gripping, often touching collection of photos, drawings, sugar packets, letters, shopping lists and more.

Marine Traffic

There are a mind-boggling number of ships in the world and on this site you can watch them going about their business. They are colour-coded by type (cargo vessels, tankers, fishing boats) and you can find out where they have come from and where they are going.

Laura Ramoso

There is a lot of so-so observational comedy on the internet but Laura Ramoso’s Instagram and TikTok imitations of her German mother and Italian father have the ring of extremely funny truth.

The National Grid Live

Hear me out: this site lets you see how much power is being generated from different sources – watch as solar rises on a sunny day – and how much Great Britain is importing and exporting. It is weirdly compelling.

Tradle

Guess a place based on its exports: you get six chances, narrowing it down, thanks to information on how far off each wrong guess was. Warning: they are not all countries despite the game description: 77.3% “processed crustaceans” and 0.4% compasses is Saint Pierre et Miquelon, one of France’s semi-autonomous “overseas collectivities”. Nerdy but entertaining.

Forvo

A guide to pronouncing anything, including proper nouns and names in any language, Forvo has the power to save you significant embarrassment.

Lightning Maps

Follow storms erupting in real time. Yellow dots represent lightning strikes, and a white expanding circle shows the thunder sound movement. This is good for impressing kids, says a friend, because, like an omniscient weather god, you can “predict” when thunder is about to erupt.

Useless Farm

Karen the murderous emu, Brad, a furious fluffball cockerel, and several dopey alpacas live on this Canadian smallholding absolutely failing to earn their keep, other than on TikTok and Instagram. This kind of stuff can swiftly become annoying or samey, but useless animal wrangler Amanda has funny bones, and pretty much everything she posts is entertaining.

Messy Nessy Chic

I have no idea how Vanessa Grall comes up with the cabinet of art, design, fashion and historical wonders that have filled her website for the past 12 years; I just know she has better taste than I ever will. Dip in for the likes of a guide to Swedish islands, intimate Victorian portraiture by a viscountess or 1920s matchboxes.

Ridella

For Wordle addicts hungry for more once-daily stimulation, this site offers a riddle – the kind of thing a troll would make you solve to cross a bridge – one line at a time.

@dusttodigital

This Instagram music account is a celebration of the human desire to make sound in all its lovely diversity, from virtuoso to amateur and everything in between. I especially love the posts that showcase videos people send in of music they have encountered across the world, in the streets, in classrooms, rehearsal halls, fields …

Global Wind and Wave Patterns

You don’t have to have a clue what is going on to enjoy this site that lets you watch mesmerising animations of wind, wave and current patterns wherever you like on the globe.

The Worst Cat

This is a single-joke site – the joke being criticising baby hippos for being moist, ugly, frequently straw-covered cats – and has not been updated for years, but returning to it, I still laughed, again and again. It might work for you, too.

My Noise

My Noise feels like a gift to a fractious world: your choice of hundreds of customisable soundscapes, based on your needs (focus, sleep, stress, “pet comfort” and many more). There is an incredible variety – everything from “calm office”, to “European primeval forest” – and you can play around and mix your own blend based on whatever elements work best for you. My husband has found “rice field” with extra cicadas provides real relief from his tinnitus.

The Marginalian

The site formerly known as Brainpickings is a compendium of philosophy, poetry, visual arts, literature and other mediations on the business of being alive, collated by the author Maria Popova. Recently, I enjoyed 19th-century naturalist Jean-Baptiste Vérany’s chromographs of octopuses and Magritte’s exhortation to celebrate “joy for the eyes and the mind”.

One Zoom

Pick an animal, plant, or other living organism and, via this site, explore visually how it fits into the tree of life. Mesmerising.

Listen to the Clouds

On this dreamily weird site you can listen to live air traffic control chatter from a variety of airports across the world, against a background of ambient sound.

Library of Congress

The US Library of Congress has digitised big chunks of its collection – incredible photographs and early daguerrotypes, baseball cards, cartoons, maps and historical documents. It is overwhelming, but brilliant for a lunchtime browse.

How Many People Are in Space Right Now?

This site does exactly what it says on the tin (with details of who they are and a link to their Wikipedia page).

GeoGuessr

This quiz gives you a picture of somewhere and you have to put it on a map accurately. For an additional layer of complexity, try TimeGuessr, which asks you to identify the correct year as well as place for a photograph. I have just narrowed down a pic of an Edinburgh festival street performer to within 163 metres, but my guess of 2013 was four years out. Curses! Play again.

Martin Critchlow

The TikTok adventures of a scaffolder from King’s Lynn and his tiny mouse, Mr Jingles (the successor to Mrs Jingles, sadly deceased of natural causes). Mr Jingles really likes prawn crackers; Mr Critchlow really likes tiny harvest mice, I guess. Wholesome.

Explore webcams

There are an overwhelming number of wonderful wildlife cams out there but, for a sure bet, head to the “featured” camera on the Explore homepage. I just got bald eagles feeding their chicks, which proved very unhelpful for finishing this article.

The Lucyverse

I am torn about including writer Lucy Sweet’s brilliant newsletter because I’m sure she will end up getting my job, but I can’t in all conscience leave it out. Sweet reviews stuff: herbal teas, B&Q, Soreen mini loaves, Christmas decorations she finds in Home Bargains. The magic is in her forensically accurate skewerings. A taster: “Ugh, the Toast catalogue … Like a Guardian article on the dangers of foraging.” If you sign up, the newsletter arrives every Monday morning precisely when you most need a laugh.

If the Moon Were Only 1 Pixel

Space is terrifying – my tiny medieval peasant mind can’t begin to comprehend its vastness. This site, which describes itself as “a tediously accurate scale model of the solar system” is such a good way to understand the vastness, through scrolling – something I am very good at – with manageable little nuggets of info along the way.

Mondo Mascots

Japan’s mascot culture is a repository of intense oddness, and the British writer and illustrator Chris Carlier gives an enthusiastic account of them on his site (in more detail than on his laconic and equally unmissable Twitter account @mondomascots). Discover, among others, an extinct river otter with a bowl of noodles as a hat that represents Susaki City, an “armless, dancing character based an ancient roof tile” or “Colon-chan, an intestine-haired lady who encourages colon cancer screenings”.

Post Secret

Post Secret predated Fesshole, the popular Twitter feed where people confess their sins anonymously and receive internet absolution or condemnation (more likely both). It is a combination of confessional and art project, since contributors send in their contributions on a postcard, sometimes elaborately decorated. “The day I leave this city I’m asking Tim for a kiss”; “Somebody else’s 23andMe DNA test destroyed my life”: each one is a baby-shoes-length short story.

Wikiloc

Wherever you are in the world, find a user-tested walk or cycle route. You can filter for distance, difficulty and for circular walks only. It has taken me to some spectacular spots (and trudging along a few A-roads, too, but that is mainly my incompetence).

Kingdom of Loathing

I don’t really understand what is going on in this long-running gentle, funny game full of stick people yet, but on my first try, I apparently gained “the patience of a tortoise” and a “liver popsicle”. Tell me more.

The Deep Sea

Scroll down, down, down this metre-by metre graphic of the sea and discover all the weird stuff that lives at various levels, with cool facts along the way. It is a good site for a “tag yourself” game with the creatures you encounter: I think I’m a headless chicken fish.

The Met’s Artist Project

Take a couple of minutes to watch a contemporary artist react to pieces in the Metropolitan Museum’s incredibly eclectic collection. Edmund de Waal reflects on why a 500-year-old Chinese jug was left white and Kehinde Wiley discusses class in John Singer Sargent’s portraiture. There are 120 entries in total.

@museumoflostmemories

There’s something really poignant about this Instagram account, which seeks to reunite photos found in junk shops and flea markets with their subjects (or subjects’ descendants): so many forgotten smiles and poses. The hit rate is low, but if you click “Returned!” you can enjoy some really satisfying success stories.

Antipodes Map

A simple site to answer that perennial question: where would you end up if you tunnelled right through the Earth and came out the other side?

Kids Favourite Jams By Their Dads’ Favourite Bands

On TikTok, songwriter Kevin Scott Rhoads spins a wheel to choose a band (Mumford & Sons, Bon Iver, The National) and a nursery rhyme and then produces pitch-perfect parodies. I particularly enjoyed Baby Shark in the style of Radiohead.

xkcd

I don’t understand all of Randall Munroe’s often science and tech-themed stick-figure web comic (Munroe is a physicist who worked for Nasa), but the bits I do get tend to be clever and very funny.

Things Magazine

This densely packed, very plainly formatted compendium of links to interesting things was created by a group of writers and historians with an interest in objects and what they tell us about the world. That doesn’t exactly narrow their remit and it can feel overwhelming, but there is so much delight and interest packed into every post. The newest one has links to a playlist of classic tracks from 1994, royal doppelgangers and a Museum of Failure. Just let your eye wander and alight on whatever link catches your attention, you won’t be disappointed.

Surprised Eel Historian

You may never have thought “I’d like to know more about the history of eels”, but that was a mistake, as this Twitter account full of fascinating eel facts demonstrates.

Owl in a Box

I had to include this, the OG of internet angry birds. There is not much to it: six photographs of a great horned owl found by the side of the road, absolutely furious to be rescued. The photos, in which only one giant yellow eye is visible, glaring balefully through the flap of a cardboard box, make all the years I have wasted on the internet worthwhile. Sort of.

[potteresque-ire]

I’ve got several asks about BJYX supertopic’s recent battle for the top CP ranking. I’ve meant to answer them the way they’re asked, but the answer gets long. Dear Anons ~ please forgive me for splitting the answers into multiple posts!

As with everything I’ve said about CPs, they’re mostly my limited observations—unlike history and news, it’s impossible to find articles about any of this that pass journalistic standards. Therefore, please consider the following to be my personal impressions and ramblings, and as usual, everyone please feel free to point out mistakes and add your own thoughts!

Everyone probably knows already, but the new drama that has brought waves to the Weibo’s CP ranking list is Word of Honour (山河令, which I will abbreviate to WoH), and the CP pairing is known as Lang Lang Ding (浪浪釘, LLD). I haven’t watched this drama yet but as a Wuxia (and slash) fan, it is on my to-watch list. Nonetheless, I’ve been watching the developments surrounding the popularity of the drama and the CPs, and I think I can make the posts long enough just with these observations alone. (I’m incredibly long winded :D )

For the CP competition, I think it’s important to point this out: the LLD supertopic is a mixed character-CP and real-person-CP supertopic, unlike the YiZhan supertopics (BJYX, ZSWW, LSFY) that are real-person-CP only. This means comparing LLD and the YiZhan supertopics is really …  comparing apples and oranges, especially when WoH is still airing (and therefore providing fresh candies for the character CP with every new episode). I therefore wish this kind of popularity competition doesn’t take root in the international fandom; it’s … a bit silly to me, really. It makes little sense.

That said, however, I understand why c-turtles are fighting so hard for the #1 CP spot. C-ent (as is true with many other aspects in the country), numbers and ranking are everything. That 20(?), 40(?) minutes during which BJYX supertopic fell to #2 the first time already made “news” headlines that claimed that WoH had surpassed The Untamed (TU)—an even stranger comparison, if one thinks about it. BJYX, technically speaking, doesn’t have anything to do with TU. It’s a GG/DD real person CP.

But it doesn’t matter—numbers are numbers, and they talk to c-ent watchers, the commercial interests looking for their most promising future investments. The perceived power of c-turtles hinges on them and by power, I mean both fan power and spending power, which are almost synonymous terms in c-ent. Many of you have probably seen those charts that rank the popularity of c-ent entertainers by how much goods, in monetary value, they’re able to sell. How much do the c-turtles contribute to these monetary values? Are they, as a collection of fans, worth keeping, worth wooing?

The notion that only the fan’s spending power means something may cause unease in many i-turtles—and it is, indeed, a very cold-hearted assessment, as it implies that fans are little more than living wallets to be emptied. My observations have been that such a notion doesn’t bother c-turtles for the most part and, IMHO, they’re being realistic for their sociopolitical environment. They also respond to this notion accordingly—while it is difficult to tease out the exact percentage of turtles among Gg and Dd’s active fans (fans that make major purchases goods and merchandises), c-turtles have previously demonstrated their ability to contribute a substantial fraction (in the 10s of percent) of money spent on Gg and Dd. As these splits are only very occasionally visible to the public, the CP ranking likely serves as a constant reminder of c-turtles enormous fan/spending power — without which, Gg and Dd’s popularity will also take a hit.

In that sense, c-turtles are fighting for their right-to-exist. Remember when I talked about the “traditional” thinking that CPFs < solos, and that one CPF = one (loyal) solo lost? This means c-turtles must be able to demonstrate their ability to offer something that the solos cannot, and more importantly, that their offer will not come in any other name. If c-turtles proved last year that they wouldn’t change their name to solos, then this year they’re set to prove they’ll not change their name to LLDs or other CPFs. 

If the latter sounds a bit like a battlecry, it may be exactly that. Ever since the announcements of the long line of upcoming Dangai’s, ample inflammatory posts have been made on the platform to get c-turtles to “defect” to the new dramas, or predict that as soon as another pair of random, beautiful men start to throw candies on screen, c-turtles will promptly forget about Gg and Dd and join the fun. The latter, especially, can be quite insulting to read, as one can imagine. However, with c-turtles being a loosely connected group of millions, despite their apparent firm stance that they shall stay turtle, their underlying nerves that these “insults” may turn out to be true can also be felt — the worry that c-turtledom will haemorrhage when the next popular Dangai with enticing M/M CPs (character or real person) come along. 

WoH, as the first drama that fits the criteria, is therefore a test— a test that many c-turtles likely view they must pass with flying colours to prove their point, to stand with their heads held high among those who do not care about BJYXSZD (not necessarily solos—many solos, BTW, have actually helped the turtles out this time); to show that turtles are not only every bit as loyal as other Gg and Dd fans, they’re not so … cheap as to take any random “industrial saccharine” (工業糖精; referring to ZQSG-free candies created solely to lure in fans) and walk away.

The reform of the BJYX supertopic (which now allows candy analysis and explains the sudden appearance of many old candies), the flood of BTS videos from almost every Zhan Jie previously involved with the YiZhan CPs, the temporary retaking of the top 3 CP spots by BJYX+ZSWW+LSFY ... can therefore be viewed as a rally of c-turtles. The message is: we’re not going anywhere. We’ve got enough candies that no other (M/M) CPs can hope to match in quantity, in quality.

(And the parade is indeed impressive.) (The reform also didn’t come out of thin air; there have been discussions about the supertopic’s candy sharing rules before.)

Some c-turtles have rightfully been concerned about how such a parade of candies can affect Gg and Dd. They point out that some candies should still remain 閱後即焚 (“burn after reading”, instant return to hiding after release like certain BTS videos); that at some point, c-turtles have to let go of their obsession of staying on top of the CP rankings. TU is already almost 2 years old, and being a little lower on the CP ranking list will take the heat off the YiZhan fandoms in the long run, incite less outside forces trying to fan the flames between the shrimps and the motors and the turtles.

The rules and guidelines of c-turtledom therefore remain a work in progress, and c-turtles, the millions of them, are still learning as they go.

Personally, I have faith in what will come. I also haven’t been too concerned about the candy parade, because most information is already out there for those who’re determined to find them — on Bilibili, Douyin, Zhihu etc. I spent some time talking about the Gg Assistant fic not with the goal of eliciting pain or panic, but rather, as a demonstration of why it has been the tradition of CPFs—not only the turtles—to play things very cautiously, with 閱後即焚 and 圈地自萌 (“to play within the circle”; ie, keep all information and candies within CPFs) being the default rules even after removing the “queer factor” from the discussion. Real person CPs have fate as one of their writers and so, unlike character CPs, their candies can have unintended, unpredictable consequences. As the YiZhan fandoms have now grown big enough that their candies can no longer be realistically well-contained, it may not be such a bad idea for especially the sensitive candies to return under the “jurisdiction” of the BJYX supertopic, so to speak. c-turtles can then gain better control of their comes-and-goes. Their narratives.

(CPN below.)

About narratives. @rainbowsky have previously written a thoughtful piece on the possible reasons the YiZhan fandoms have been allowed to thrive, and I’d like to add the following hypothesis—it may be a way to take pre-emptive control of the Gg/Dd narrative in preparation for the scenario where their relationship is exposed without their consent. Some i-turtles, I think, may have already gained a sense of how ruthless, cruel and above all, quick the c-ent rumour mill can be. If Gg and Dd get outed by a third party, chances are they won’t have time at all to create a fresh narrative, and the one that come out of the rumour mill will likely be … very ugly, containing every worst misconception people have against homosexual relationships. Whereas now, c-turtles already have a narrative at hand—the canon-fanon that, while c-turtles may not agree on every detail, is largely agreed upon on the important milestones. The supporting materials are also ready: the videos, the images, the voice and arrow guides on them.  

For me, another interesting question is whether this c-turtle rally and parade of candies are truly necessary in the end.

I’m curious about what will happen to the LLD supertopic when WoH completes its airing. There’s really no precedence for this kind of a mixed character + real person M/M CP supertopic setup — the history of Dangai is short, of popular Dangai’s, even shorter.

Guardian (鎮魂), the first successful Dangai aired exactly a year before TU (in the summer of 2018), never had a dedicated CP supertopic (please holler if I got this wrong! I know there’re Guardian fans here ~ hello! *waves*). Discussions of Guardian’s CPs were found within the drama’s supertopic (剧版镇魂); the real-person-CP also never had its own name; its discussions were hidden under the character CP (巍瀾) tag.

Then came TU. Its real person CP (BJYX) split away from its character CP (WangXian) long before the airing for the drama—the birthdate of the BJYX supertopic was 2018/04/28 (TU’s airing date: 2019/06/27).

After TU, two Dangai dramas have already aired before WoH that seemed to have largely passed the attention of i-fandom: The Sleuth of the Ming Dynasty (成化十四年) and Winter Begonia (鬢邊不是海棠紅). Winter Begonia, in particular, was well received. Their character CPs never really took off, however, being conceived and perceived as more brotherhood than romance. Age also played a factor for Winter Begonia—Yun Zheng (尹正), known to many turtles as Dd’s motorcycle buddy, is 34, and Huang Xiaoming (黃曉明) is 43. The associated real person CPs also never became popular as a result; Huang Xiaoming’s famous marriage to a beautiful actress also meant that a real person CP was likely to be off the table for Winter Begonia from the start.

The best reference I can think of then, when it comes to speculating the fate of LLD, is therefore the fates of the CP supertopics of 2020’s summer hit, Love and Redemption (琉璃). I’ve talked about its character CP before; essentially, just days after the drama was done airing, the (het) character CP (初遇夫婦) was broken up and in a manner largely criticised as unnecessarily cruel to CP fans. Its supertopic closed immediately afterwards. The supertopic for the real-person-CP (冰橙汁) got to live, however, and is still active today.

The commercial forces behind WoH will likely break the character CP as soon as the drama is done airing; popular het and non-het character CPs in the recent years have gone through similar fates. What does this mean to LLD then? Does it mean the supertopic will be shutdown, since the drama itself already has its own supertopic? But what will happen then to its real-person CP, which has been incorporated within the LLD supertopic? Will the real-person CP be broken at the same time as the character CP to allow for immediate “purification” of real person CP fans into solo fans, to avoid future “headaches” like BYYX—a bound between the actors that cannot be severed—or 227 that, in the eyes of many passerbys, remains an issue of solo vs cpfs?

Only time will tell, and I very sincerely hope it’ll get a happy ending. Fans are made to love, and it saddens me every time to see them being severed from their loves, or pitted against each other especially when it’s clear it’s the social media platforms, the commercial interests behind the scenes — not just the production/media companies but the YXHs, the water armies — who will reap the benefits in the end. Personally, I feel no joy in seeing anyone’s favourites getting torn down, even if they aren’t my own. Gg and Dd’s safety — and the safety of every upstanding, hardworking c-ent entertainer like them — doesn’t hinge so much on their CP or solo or drama ranking, but whether their fans can refrain from bringing their conflicts into the public eye, from “occupying social resources”—ie, deflecting the public’s attention from the “core socialist values” the government intends it to focus on.

Fandom is big enough for us all.

[blankd]

Thoughts on The Mitchells vs the Machines

I watched it a while ago and kept forgetting to post my thoughts on it, but some posts here on tumblr recently reminded me.

I disagree with the majority takeaways I see but is that not the spice of life?

As a standalone movie its inoffensive and the writing of it will likely exit my brain in a few months.  However I can appreciate that the visual style was different from the typical fare and the mixture of 2d elements for visual embellishments were mostly enjoyable and well-suited for Katie as the POV character.

It's a bit "hyper" for my liking, but that's fine, it's likely intended for an audience that's accustomed to the flood that is the current norm of the internet.  It was probably made with GIFable moments in mind and that is the most frequent content that is shared about it, so it certainly succeeded in that regard.

My more critical take is that jokes are delivered at the expense of what could be more authentic themes.  Quips are made that draw attention to character flaws or undercut questions the movie should try to answer, but inevitably they are ignored to move onto the next joke or story beat.

The rest would fall more into spoiler territory, so read more for that.

--"They Were Both In the Wrong"

I personally disagree heavily with the thrust of how "both sides" were wrong when the degrees are disproportionate.

I've seen claims that Katie was "as in the wrong" as her father, but she's incredibly patient to the man who does her material harm.

I've yet to have seen someone say specifically what Katie did *wrong* to her father that is at all on par with the *years* he at best hasn't been able to interact with her or worse, actively refused to engage with her interests.

I would generously venture that her flaw was that she was more willing to communicate her feelings to strangers, but she easily talks to her mother and brother- her brother even helps her with her movies and she happily engages him with his own interests, which pivots the point back to how her father is physically/emotionally unavailable and led to the erosion and distance between the two of them.

Due to this, MvM comes across more as Kaite having to do so much more to guide her father rather than a more mutual learning experience for the both of them.

--"Technology that [Dis]Connects"

It's probably beyond the scope and intent of the film, but I was surprised there was no examination about why technology can be more alluring than interacting with physically present people.

For better or worse, the internet can be used as a means of supplementing the validation and acceptance of family.  It can also lead to no longer connecting to people around them because of the validation high of appealing to a constantly 'awake' sea of strangers- the spotlight is warmer than the cold reality that they are not the internet image they have cultivated.

For example, the rival 'perfect' family was never revealed to be a carefully constructed highlight reel that Mrs. Mitchell envies, they really were actually that perfect- because that provides an easier punchline than an examination or acknowledgement of how the internet can create unhealthy expectations.

I also can't expect MvM to acknowledge the reality that LGBTA+ people who are rejected by their family resort to seeking a new one through the internet because it would be much harder to redeem/rehabilitate a man defined by being tethered to "old values" if he was homophobic instead of "overprotective" and apprehensive at his daughter's departure from home and her dubious art career.

But hey we got that quick line at the end that Katie likes a girl, so that's a diversity win or something.

(To be clear I'm not expecting a whole parade or even an A or B-plot dedicated to it, but I think it should be acknowledged that this kind of "surprise inclusion" is very easily erased with a change of audio and would be completely unsurprised if this were the case for countries that are homophobic.  People can be happy about it, but it is dishonest to pretend that this is a bolder statement than it is.)

In that sense, I do and don't hold MvM to taking a "safer" route about how family always has your back, but this still feels like an important omission considering the focus on technology and its dynamic with the Mitchells.

I will also say that it was also bizarre, to me at least, that the obvious route that her father sees the value of home videos didn't become an active point between him and Katie.  Or that Mr. Mitchell's carpentry never really amounts to anything despite having a sentimental wooden moose.

Lastly, I think it's an unintentional, but it's interesting that Katie going to college to pursue her passion is viewed as a Terrible Thing by her father even though if he had his way, he'd be ostensibly living in the woods away from everyone else except his wife.

This isn't a problem, people are a collection of contradictions, but It's fascinating to see what the *narrative* treats as a difficult sacrifice while simultaneously pulling at heartstrings when PAL cites how children ignore their mothers.  There's an unexamined comedy that Mr. Mitchell's losing out on his 'passion' to live in the woods away from people is treated as tragic despite the movie's insistence on staying connected with your blood family.

--"The Inconsistent Personhood of AI"

PAL is rightfully angry at being discarded for something new; it's provided as a glimpse of what Katie will do when she finds 'her people' at college.

This in of itself is a good hook, because there is no one universal answer to when a flawed relationship should be mended with compromise or if it's better off being broken for the wellbeing of the ones involved.  Family and relationships are not programming, it's a choice and a gamble for whatever it brings but is nonetheless something that must be mutually worked upon.

Initially I thought that PAL was being set up as an exaggerated parallel to Mr. Mitchell.  PAL and Mr. Mitchell did their best to provide for their family.  PAL and Mr. Mitchell are in different stages of being 'discarded' by their family.  PAL and Mr. Mitchell both retaliate at their lack of power in the scenario by using the power granted by their roles to infringe on the autonomy of others for selfish reasons.

PAL even gives a 'chance' for her plan to be halted with, I had assumed this was being set up as the thesis of the movie, about humanity and the value of family, relationships, etc. being used to help someone who is already hurting.

But despite Katie looking at the camera and explaining herself, it is never actually directly resolved or challenged because a punchline was deemed more desirable for this narrative climax.

This begs the question of why PAL bothered with the pretense that she could be reasoned with, especially since this is not some question leveled at all of humanity, just two people.

I'm curious how the writers came to the conclusion that this was the best execution of the scene or if Katie's speech was considered immune to any challenge from PAL.  Would anyone have accepted this outcome if PAL were not an AI but instead a person?

It's not necessarily bad writing they went this route, but I doubt anyone would consider this good writing either.

By the end of the movie, PAL is no longer a 'person' who was betrayed and is lashing out, she is an object to be destroyed because the movie has to wrap up.  No compassion or chances are spared to this AI that did literally everything asked of her except take being discarded quietly.

Did PAL deserve a redemption arc? For this length of movie, probably not.  But it could have concluded with a commitment to doing no further harm.  Instead it is an accidental glimpse at how easily the pretense of compassion can be quickly discarded and mostly unexamined with the right framing.

A likely unintentional example is the conditional humanity given to Eric and Deborahbot who are adopted as "family" while the rest of the robots are mowed down without another thought.  Some are even beaten and broken while begging for mercy, because again, it is a funnier punchline.

Far be it for me to advocate that the murderbots needed 'a second chance uvu' but for a movie whose conceit rests on 'sticking by family' and 'giving chances', the writers certainly made a choice in deciding which AI get honorary humanity and spared violent death- perhaps PAL had a point about humanity's callousness after all.  Bad robots are discarded, good robots get to live.

Even the CEO who realizes he enabled this mess (easily the most unrealistic part of the movie, honestly) is given another chance and he manages to take away a completely wrong lesson.

Speaking of-

--"Maybe I Shouldn’t Have Used Tech Like This"

There's a particular image/gif set posted about MvM with the CEO apologizing for the machine uprising, attributing it to unchecked technology and monopolies.  I've always seen it accompanied by people congratulating the scene as if any of this is at all relevant to the movie.

Charitably, these are people who haven't watched the movie and don't know that PAL is a phone AI single-handedly doing this, but most take the stance that this scene is proof the movie is not saying technology is bad, only corporations are.

The speech isn't technically wrong but it is so utterly divorced from what happens in the movie that it's surreal to see people congratulate it as anything but a moment of soapboxing.

None of the datagrabbing was used at all as part of the takeover.  It's all magical kid-friendly terminators with no relevance to what anyone's browsing history is.  If the company was one that produced robot assistants instead of a being a super tech monopoly, there would be no narrative difference.

The closest to a predatory tactic that is used in MvM is the offer of free wifi which is used to lure most people into their cells which they happily comply with. Curiously this... commentary of people’s mindless addiction to technology is not acknowledged by the Tumblr Court with the same intensity as the CEO’s speech.

But more constructively, I do feel it’s a missed opportunity that Katie who's supposed to be an extremely online person apparently never said any bad things about her family or made any petty vent films for PAL to weaponize.  Instead an in-media audio at one of the outskirt locations was used to accomplish its Traitor Revealed moment.

IN CONCLUSION

MvM is a movie that involves topics that ought to be touched on and explored properly in media and chickens out on all of it due to possible concerns with age-appropriate handling or because it was more committed to its comedy than whatever it has to say about family, change and how technology affects people.

It also reminded me that I hope media will finally graduate from the trope that if you spec into any ‘outdoorsy’ hobby you are incurably afraid of technology.

[justlookfrightened]

Birthday surprises

For the prompt: Jack secretly loves surprise parties

“So how did you celebrate Canada Day when you were growing up?’ Bitty asked, carrying the pie to the table. “Was it like the Fourth of July, with parades and fireworks and red and white bunting everywhere?”

“Sort of,” Jack said. “It wasn’t such a big deal in Montreal, because, y’know, Quebec. A few years ago they made it moving day in Quebec just to screw with the government in Montreal.”

“Moving day?” Bitty asked. “Wait just a second.”

He turned to the counter behind him and picked up a small Candian flag, which he stuck in the middle of the pie.

“Happy Canada Day!”

“Euh, thanks,” Jack said. “Moving day is when everyone’s leases end and their new leases start. So thousands of people are moving on Canada Day. There were always fireworks over the harbor, though. Sometimes we’d go see them if we were in town.”

“Well, then, happy moving day,” Bitty said. “So not much like Madison on the Fourth of July?”

“Bits, nothing is like Madison on the Fourth of July,” Jack said.

“I’m sure the fireworks aren’t as good --”

“I have very fond memories of the fireworks in Madison,” Jack said. “Best fireworks of my life. Are you okay staying here for the Fourth this year?”

Bitty shrugged.

“I guess so,” he said. “The shop’s just getting on its feet, and I can’t really take much time off yet, and that would mean flying down on the morning of the fourth and back the next day. And Mama and Coach said they’d come up to see us for a weekend before school starts down there. We can still go to the fireworks and all here on the Fourth, right?”

“Your parents are coming up?” Jack asked. “Do you know when?”

“Beginning of August,” Bitty said. “Don’t worry, though. I’ll make sure their visit doesn’t conflict with your big birthday celebration.”

“My … what?”

“Your birthday?” Bitty said. “You’re turning 30 a little over a month from today. Don’t tell me you forgot.”

“No, but a big celebration?”

“Oh, no, sweet pea,” Bitty said. “I meant ‘big birthday,’ like turning 30 is a big deal. Not a big celebration for your birthday. I know you don’t like that kind of thing.”

“Oh,” Jack said, looking down at his pie. “Okay. That’s good.”

“Unless you want my parents here for your birthday?” Bitty said. “I was thinking your parents might come, but … I’m sure my folks would be happy to.”

“No,” Jack said. “No, that’s fine.”

****

“I’m so glad you and Bits decided to do this,” Shitty said, taking another drag on his joint. “You guys aren’t usually around on the Fourth, but the rest of this summer looks crazy for me, and then you have the season coming up. I wouldn’t want it to be too long between visits.”

“Crazy this summer?” Jack said. “What’s up?”

“Work stuff,” Shitty said. “It looks like we’re going to trial against that chemical plant at the end of August, and it’s gonna be like seven days a week getting ready. I already told Lards to prepare for work-widowhood.”

“Yeah?” Jack said. “How’d she take that?”

“I’m not sure,” Shitty said. “You think I’m crazy enough to say shit like that when she’s awake?”

“Haha.”

“No, seriously, she’s leaving next week for a six-week residency at some artist colony in the Berkshires, and then she’s got a show to mount for the gallery at the end of August. I’m not sure she’ll even notice.”

“Come on, Shits,” Jack said. “You know she will.”

“I know,” Shitty said. “It’s just fucking hard sometimes, you know? I mean, it seemed like all the lawyers I knew when I was a kid had lunch and played golf all day. Plenty of time for fucking around. Too late I learned it doesn’t work that way in the public interest sector. And who knew being a successful artist was so time-consuming? How do you and Bits make it work?”

Jack shrugged. It was difficult, with his life consumed by hockey and Bitty’s time taken up more and more by a successful career in -- baking media? Jack wasn’t even sure what to call it, since Bits wasn’t just a baker, just a cookbook author, just an Internet and TV personality. He somehow did all of that, and just this summer had lent his name, personality, and talent to a new shop that sold both baked goods and baking equipment (toys for bakers, Bitty called them) in Providence.

“Remember Bits’ birthday in May?” Jack asked.

“Yeah,” Shitty said. “The big two-five. Remember how you wanted to throw him a surprise party? That was never gonna happen. Like that boy would ever let anyone else control the menu.”

“I guess you're right,” Jack said. “But I like surprising him. Remember Betsy II?”

“That was sweet,” Shitty said. “And the proposal at Faber, too, you romantic son of a gun.”

“Who told him about the surprise party in May?”

“Uh --”

“Was it you?”

“No.”

“Was it Lardo?”

“Um, she maybe told him not to make plans for that day? Because he was telling her he wanted to plan an overnight getaway because it was the only time it would work with your schedule?” Shitty said. “He took it from there. My understanding is that you caved under questioning.”

“Yeah,” Jack said. “I guess I did.”

“But don’t worry, brah,” Shitty said. “If I heard about a plan for a surprise party for you, I would totally warn you. I know you’re not into that.”

“Euh, okay?” Jack said. “But --”

“I got your back, brah,” Shitty said, giving Jack an exaggerated wink and nod just as Bitty and Lardo pushed open the sliding door and carried trays of drinks and snacks to the terrace.

“So what did we miss?” Bitty said. “Fireworks haven’t started yet, have they?”

“Nope,” Shitty said. “You’re just in time.”

****

“Jack?” Bitty asked, looking up from his laptop. “Do you know where you want to go for your birthday dinner?”

“Birthday dinner?” Jack said. “We’re not having it here?”

“Well, since I know you don’t like parties, and thirty is kind of a big deal, I thought maybe we should go out.”

“Who said I don’t like parties?” Jack said, pausing the tape of the last game of the Stanley Cup final.

“Please, sweetpea,” Bitty said. “I used to have to beg to get you to show your face at a kegster, and your mama’s told the story about you hiding under the bed to get out of going to that banquet more than a dozen times.”

“I was six,” Jack said.

“I know, sugar, and you haven’t changed a bit,” Bitty said. Then his eyes dropped to Jack’s chest, and lower, and Jack suddenly felt warm. “Except in the obvious ways. I was thinking Hemenway’s for seafood or maybe Waterman Grille or Al Forno with your parents. But it might make more sense to go the night before. Hemenway’s at least is closed on Mondays. Then on the night of your actual birthday, we can eat at home. Steaks on the grill, maybe? Do you want to invite your parents for that, too, or have it be just the two of us?”

Jack wanted to protest that he could want a party even if he didn’t want the debauchery of a kegster, and he shouldn’t be judged by his six-year-old self not wanting to go to a stuffy banquet (even if he still didn’t like stuffy banquets). But the moment seemed to have passed, and really, what Bitty was planning was fine.

Maybe he would get a surprise party for his fortieth, when he wasn’t playing and his friends’ careers were more stable and everyone had more time.

“Any of them are good, but Papa really likes Al Forno,” Jack said. “And I guess they can come on Monday for dinner, as long as they leave early.”

“Now, Jack, that’s not very hospitable of you,” Bitty said with a smirk. “I almost think you have plans. Maybe once I finish making this reservation you can give me a preview.”

He pecked at the keyboard for a few more moments and then closed the laptop.

“Ready when you are, Mr. Zimmermann.”

Jack clicked off the TV and followed Bitty to the bedroom.

****

“Maman?”

Jack had put off this call until Bitty left for the market.

It wasn’t like his husband was a busybody or nosy. It was just that, what with Jack’s schedule, and the wedding, and Bitty’s career, they were still in the condo Jack bought for himself in Providence when he signed. It wasn’t really small -- it probably had almost as much square footage as the Haus, and only two of them living there -- but it was mostly open-plan and Bitty would know if Jack was hiding in the office to call his parents. Which he was supposed to have done two weeks ago.

“Jacky!” his mother said. “It’s been ages. I saw those pictures you posted from your beach excursion last weekend. It looked like the two of you had fun. But I didn’t know you got a dog.”

“We didn’t?”

“But Bitty --”

“Was playing with a dog in a lot of the pictures?” Jack said.

The dog had run up to their picnic blanket when they moved off the beach proper, into the shady park, for lunch. Jack wasn’t sure exactly what kind it was. It was black and brown, like he thought of a German shepherd being, but much smaller, with long, skinny legs, a pointy nose and floppy ears.

Bitty had immediately started cooing over and petting the creature, despite Jack pointing out that they didn’t know who it belonged to, if it belonged to anyone, where it had been, if it was friendly.

“You don’t know if this dog is friendly?” Bitty had been incredulous. It was pretty ridiculous, given that the dog was more or less washing Bitty’s face with its tongue while Bitty giggled. “And she has a collar. And a tag. Stand still, girl.”

Bitty had still been trying to read the tag, and Jack was still taking pictures, when a teenage girl ran up, a leash in her hand.

“There you are, Eleanor! I’m so sorry! She just jumped out of the car and took off as soon as I opened the door. Eleanor, come!”

“No worries,” Bitty had said, holding the dog while her person clipped the leash to her collar. “We’re always happy to visit with a friendly puppy.”

Jack had been thinking about adopting a dog ever since, if only to see Bitty giggle so much. A dog that could go on runs with him, and keep Bitty company when Jack had to be gone … it might be a good idea. But it wasn’t something to surprise Bitty with. If they adopted a dog, it had to be a joint decision.

“That was just a dog that got loose and came to visit,” Jack said. “Although now that you mention it, I wonder if Bitty might like to have a dog around. I’ll have to ask him.”

“Judging from those pictures, I’m pretty certain he’ll approve,” Alicia said. “Now, did you need to talk about something?”

“Euh, the plans for my birthday?” Jack said. “Bitty wants to take you and Papa to Al Forno on the second, and then cook dinner here on the third.”

“Bitty wants to?” Alicia said. “What about you?”

“I’m not sure why we need to do both,” Jack admitted. “Either would be fine with me. But he seemed set on going out to celebrate because it’s my thirtieth, and a lot of restaurants are closed on Monday. And he was equally set on celebrating on the day of. But he has to work early the next day, so it’ll be an early dinner.”

“You never did like a lot of fuss,” his mother said, not calling him on what he thought was an obvious … not untruth, exactly, Maybe more of a manipulation? “Grumpypants. Of course your father and I will be there for both.”

“I don’t mind fuss,” Jack said.

“Jack, mon coeur, when have you enjoyed people getting together to focus on you?”

“They had a birthday dinner for me at the Haus,” Jack said. “Before my senior year. Bitty made a pie and everything.”

“Were you part of the planning for this dinner?” Alicia said. “Did you even know about it?”

“It just sort of … happened,” Jack said. “But it was nice.”

“Jack, dear, was that the first time Bitty made a pie especially for you?” his mother asked. “Forgive me, but that might have more to do with your fond memories.”

****

“Jack, what kind of pie do you want for your birthday?”

Bitty was sauntering between the farmer’s market booths while Jack trailed along, watching Bitty more than looking at the produce.

“Pie?” Jack asked. “Don’t most people get cake for their birthdays?”

“Do you even know me?” Bitty asked, then turned to examine at a table full of cherries.

Jack accompanied Bitty to the farmer’s market almost every Saturday in the summer. It was an errand, sure, but some weeks it was also the closest they got to a date.

Bitty would probably scoff at that. What did they need with dates, now they were an old married couple? Neither of their schedules permitted a regular date night most of the time, anyway. But in the summer, at least, they had Saturday mornings at the market.

“If you know me, you know what kind of pie I want,” Jack said.

“Maple-crusted apple,” Bitty confirmed, then shook his head sadly. “Have you seen these cherries, Jack? Or the blueberries? There will even be decent peaches up here by the beginning of August. Apples won’t be in season for another six weeks or so.”

It was a familiar argument with no heat in it.

Jack shrugged.

“I like what I like,” he said. “And there are always apples available. You know you’ll make it for me. And something else for whoever wants it.”

“See, you do know me,” Bitty said. He stopped in front of the booth with honey soap but paid it no mind. “Jack, are we becoming old and boring?”

“We always were old and boring,” Jack said. “From the beginning of time.”

“First, speak for yourself, old man,” Bitty said. “Second, I’m not sure whether that was a chirp or flirting. Don’t you know you had me at ‘Eat more protein’?”

“That’s not what you said then.”

“Hush,” Bitty said. “I mean, you don’t have to have the same thing for your birthday every year. Branch out a bit. Maybe a pear tart?”

“I wanted to do something different for your birthday, but then everyone went and told you,” Jack said.

“I’m sorry, sweetpea,” Bitty said. “I would have gone along with it and pretended it was a surprise, but I had to get out of other plans somehow. And people did want to eat. Good food.”

“By which you mean your food,” Jack said.

“I like to think I have a reputation to uphold,” Bitty said, stopping to examine some melons. “Truthfully, I kind of wish I hadn’t found out. You give good surprises.”

“Yeah?”

“Come on, you moose. You know I would have married you after you bought me Betsy II,” Bitty said. “Too bad parties aren’t your thing. Could you imagine a party with all your mom’s A-list friends and your hockey uncles, plus your team and Kent and all? It would be the talk of Providence.”

Jack shuddered.

“Definitely not my thing,” he said.

“I know, sweetpea,” Bitty said. “Besides, celebrating on our own has its advantages. Catch.”

He tossed Jack an eggplant with a smirk

Jack groaned. “Really, Bits?”

“Sorry,” Bitty said. “That was bad. I have what I need. Ready to head home?”

****

Jack was set up and sitting at his computer, half-listening to Bitty going on about whether his deadlines for the next cookbook were remotely reasonable, when the call from Tater came through.

“Zimmboni!” The image of Tater on the screen waved. “Hey, Tater,” Jack said.

“Is that little B?”

Tater’s face moved, like he was trying to see around Jack.

“Yeah, Bitty’s here,” Jack said, waving a hand to get his husband’s attention. “You want to say hi?”

Bitty leaned over his shoulder.

“Hey, Tater! You look good. How’s the family?” he asked.

“Everyone is good,” Tater said. “My mother and my sister Tatiana want to visit this year, so they can meet the baker I’m always talking about.”

“I’d be honored and delighted,” Bitty said. “Don’t forget those recipes you wanted me to try, alright? We can work on them together. You translate and I bake.”

“You speak better Russian you think!” Tater said.

“That’s what you think,” Bitty said. “I have to go to the shop. ПοКа!”

“Bye, Bits,” Jack said. “So, Tater, how’s the conditioning? You keeping up with it?”

“Of course,” Tater said. “Russian training every day.”

“And Russian home cooking every night?”

“Of course,” Tater agreed, grinning.

“How’s everything else?” Jack said. “When are you heading back?”

“Not long now,” Tater said. “No plane ticket yet, but early August, probably. We have dinner then, yes? To celebrate you becoming an old man.”

“Uh, we can have dinner,” Jack said. “But it doesn’t have to be for my birthday. Just to celebrate getting ready for a new season is enough.”

“Why don’t you celebrate?” Tater said. “I hear from Marty, Snowy, Thirdy, all the guys, that Jack is having a big birthday and didn’t invite them to the party. I say, ‘You know Jack. He probably isn’t even having a party.’ And they say, ‘You’re right, Tater. Jack hates parties.’”

“I don’t hate parties,” Jack said.

“You were not at Marty’s daughter’s party,” Tater countered.

“That was a kid birthday,” Jack said. “And Bitty had to go to New York for work that day, so I went with him.”

“Right,” Tater said. “But Bitty would be here for your party.”

“I’m not having a party,” Jack said.

“But you could if you want,” Tater said. “So you don’t want. So why do you hate parties?”

Jack ignored the question in favor of saying, “Just let me know when you're coming in, and I’ll pick you up at the airport if you want,” Jack said. “As long as you shut up about the party.”

“What party?”

****

Jack put on the new blue suit that Maman and Bitty had agreed (insisted, more like) that he should buy. He hesitated over the tie: stripes? paisley? miniature hockey sticks that Papa would find amusing?

No. If he couldn’t be sentimental on his birthday, when could he be? He picked up his pale blue tie, the one Bits told him brought out his eyes on his graduation day, and slid it around his neck.

Bitty was already ready, he knew, in a charcoal grey suit that he got from Jack’s tailor. Getting to see Bitty all dressed up almost made it worth it to Jack to put on a suit on a Sunday in the summer. Well, that and the look that Bitty gave Jack when he emerged from the bedroom.

“You always did clean up nice,” Bitty said. He picked up two boxes of baked goods -- a pie in one, and a couple of kinds of cookies in the other.

“You’re taking food to a restaurant?”

“No, of course not,” Bitty said. “The cookies are for Lauren downstairs. She has a shower to go to and she wanted to bring something. They’re shaped like … you know.”

“Babies?”

“No, a bridal shower,” Bitty said. “A lingerie shower.”

At Jack’s blank look, Bitty muttered something under his breath and said, “A party where they give the bride-to-be sexy underwear and tell naughty jokes.”

“So the cookies look like underwear?” Jack said, all innocence.

“No, Jack,” Bitty said. “They look like dicks, okay?”

“What about the pie?”

“That’s for your mom and dad,” Bitty said. “We’re supposed to meet them at the hotel. They can drop the pie off in their room and then we’ll go to dinner.”

That meant going inside the hotel, probably. Which meant parking and then retrieving the car, and pleasantries in the hotel lobby, and …

“Are you sure we’ll make our reservation?” Jack asked. “I’d hate to get all dressed up for nothing.”

“Aw, sweetpea, I think I can guarantee that won’t happen,” Bitty said, reaching up to pat Jack’s face and give him a peck on the lips. “Let’s go. I don’t want to be late.”

Jack pulled up at the hotel valet stand, and when he got out, said, “We’ll only be a few minutes. Keep it close, eh?” with a twenty-dollar bill folded into his palm.

“Your folks said they’d meet us down here,” Bitty said, heading into the lobby. His head swiveled and stopped when he caught sight of Jack’s parents at the hotel bar. Both had drinks in front of them. Great. They’d want to finish, and there might be a bill to settle, too.

He followed as Bitty picked his way across the lobby, exchanged a half-hug with his father while his mother swept Bitty into her arms, and then traded places.

“Jack, you look wonderful,” Alicia said, finally letting go and holding him at arm’s length. “You both do. This summer has agreed with you.”

“Thanks, Maman,” Jack said. “You look great too. Um, are you two almost ready to go?”

“The pie, Jack!” Bitty said.

“Oh, and I have something upstairs to show you, Bitty,” Alicia said. “Come up with me and we can leave the pie in the room.”

“Fine,” Bob said. “That’ll give me time to watch the end of this round.”

Jack looked at the TVs above the bar. He couldn’t mean the golf tournament? Who knew what time that would end? But it was that or … competitive cornhole?

“Only a couple more tosses,” Bob confirmed. “If this one pushes that bag in, they’ve got it.”

“You have got to be kidding me,” Jack said.

“Oh, come on, Jack, relax.” Bob said. “It’s fun. Sit down and tell me about your summer.��

“It’s been more Bitty’s summer than mine, with the shop and this new book he’s working on,” Jack said. “He’s been busy.”

“I remember those days,” Bob said. “When I’d finish the season so tired I didn’t know how I’d even haul myself upstairs to the bedroom, and by the time I was ready to face the world again, your mother would be on location on the other side of the world somewhere. I always wondered why our schedules couldn’t align.”

“It wasn’t her fault,” Jack said.

“Of course not,” Bob said. “Any more than it was mine. Hockey season is hockey season, and filming schedules are filming schedules, and cute little shops on streets popular with tourists open during the summer.”

“No, I know,” Jack said. “I wasn’t complaining.”

He stopped at the look his father gave him.

“Okay, I was complaining, but not about Bitty,” Jack said. “Just the way things worked out this summer. I was thinking we could maybe have a party for my birthday this year --”

“You haven’t wanted a birthday party since you were eight!”

“Not a big party,” Jack said. “Just a few people. But Shitty’s in the middle of preparing for a big trial, and Lardo’s off being an artist in residence somewhere, and Tater’s not back yet. Bitty’s too busy to plan anything anyway, and no one would let me plan it.”

“Get it all out, son,” Bob said. “Before your mother and your husband get downstairs. Even if Bitty didn’t plan a party, he did plan this evening for you, and it doesn’t do to feel sorry for yourself on your birthday. Especially when you have someone who thinks the sun rises and sets on you like he does.”

“I know,” Jack said, then caught sight of the time on one of the TVs.

“Oh, no. We’re late for our reservation.”

“We’ll make it.”

“No, we’re late. Already. Maybe I should call them?”

He was picking up his phone when he saw Alicia, carrying a large shopping bag, and Bitty crossing the lobby from the elevator. Bitty was on the phone. Of course he had it handled.

Bitty did not have it handled.

He hadn’t said anything about the reservation to Jack on the way to Al Forno, just squeezed Jack’s hand on the console as they pulled away from the hotel.

“I really hope you enjoy tonight,” Bitty said.

They left the car with the restaurant valet and headed straight into trouble.

“Bittle-Zimmermann, party of four,” Bitty told the maitre d’. “We have reservations.”

The maitre d’ scanned his sheet, made a face, and looked up at Bitty.

“This reservation is for thirty minutes ago,” he said.

“I know,” Bitty said, “And I’m sorry we’re late.”

“Surely half an hour can’t be a problem,” Bob said, trying to shoulder his way into the conversation, folded bill just visible between his fingers. “We promise not to linger. It’s my son’s birthday.”

“Papa!” Jack hissed, tugging at his father’s sleeve like he was eight years old again. “Let Bitty handle it.”

“Yes, Bob,” Alicia said, drawing herself up to full height and looming over the desk. “My son-in-law, Eric Bittle-Zimmermann, has this under control.”

Jack took a moment to be pleased that his mother knew Eric’s name would have more clout than theirs in a restaurant.

“I’m sorry,” the maitre d’ said. “But we gave that table away not five minutes ago. We didn’t think you were going to show up.”

“We can wait for another table,” Bitty said.

“Not tonight,” the maitre d’ said, looking truly regretful. If Bitty had liked the dinner and mentioned it on his vlog, that would have been very good for the restaurant. “We have a large private party coming in. I’m afraid it won’t be possible.”

Bitty’s face fell and Jack’s heart clenched.

“It’s fine, bud,” Jack said. “We have the food for tomorrow at home. We can go make dinner, and then head to the store in the morning. It’s not a big deal.”

“It is a big deal,” Bitty said. “It’s your birthday. I planned this dinner, and it’s my fault it got screwed up. Your mother wanted to show me your present and I got to rambling on … and why can’t I pay more attention? I’m sorry, Jack. I spoiled your birthday dinner.”

“Bitty, it’s okay, really,” Jack said.

“Perhaps next week?” the maitre d’ suggested.

“But then it won’t be Jack’s birthday anymore,” Bitty said.

“Perhaps the gentlemen would take a coupon for their next meal here?” the maitre d’ said. “For the inconvenience.”

“That’s not necessary,” Bitty said. “It was my fault.”

“I insist,” the maitre d’ said.

Jack took the offered envelope and slid it into his jacket pocket.

“Come on, Bits,” he said. “It’s not the end of the world.”

He ducked closer and whispered, “At least we can get out of the suits, eh?”

“Jack!” Bitty said, giggling through his frown. “Your parents are here!”

“Not what I meant, bud,” Jack said, but he grinned, because he’d gotten a laugh from Bitty.

“Need anything before we go home?” Jack asked while they waited for the car. “Or do you want to just pick up dinner on the way?”

“I think we have all the food we need,” Bitty said. “Maybe a bottle of champagne? Shoot, no, it’s just after six.”

“Just after six?” Bob said.

“Rhode Island law,” Jack said. “No packaged liquor after 6 p.m. on Sundays.”

“So unless you want to drop me at home to get started and drive to Attleboro, a champagne toast will have to wait for tomorrow,” Bitty said.

“We don’t need champagne,” Jack said. “Come on, let’s head home.”

Jack drove again, Bitty in the passenger seat next to him, his parents in the back. It was completely normal, and that thought struck him as odd. Here he was, 30 years old tomorrow, married to Eric Bittle, the love of his life. His parents loved Eric, too, and were here to celebrate with them, and in a few weeks he’d be getting ready for training camp for next season. He wished his 18-year-old self could have seen this future. It was better than anything he’d ever expected.

He would have liked to celebrate with Shitty and Lardo, Tater, maybe Marty and Gabby and Thirdy and Carrie, but this was good, too. Better than he had any right to expect.

He stopped at a red light and glanced at Bitty, who was also looking at him, a sly grin on his face.

“What?” Jack said. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

“It’s your birthday,” Bitty said.

“Not until tomorrow,” Jack said.

“You know what I mean.”

Jack took Bitty’s hand in the elevator when they got back to the building and held it for the whole ride up. He was still holding it when he got to the door and opened it.

He dropped it as the crowd shouted “Surprise!”

“What the --”

“Surprise, sweetpea,” Bitty said, reaching up to whisper to him. “You can still change out of your suit if you want.”

“Jackabelle!” Shitty was there to claim a hug. He wasn’t dressed in a suit, but he was dressed. Jack probably should thank Lardo for that. And there she was, hanging back, talking to Gabby.

So Marty was here somewhere -- by the pool table, talking to Tater while Snowy lined up a shot. Thirdy was in the corner, deep in conversation with Coach Bittle, and there were Suzanne and Carrie bringing more napkins in from the kitchen.

The island was covered with catering trays from … Al Forno, and Jack could see a maple-crusted apple pie among a selection on the kitchen counter. There was also a cake and some cake pops (for the kids? Were they here?) and it looked like someone (Shitty, probably) had been serving drinks from the bar. There was a bottle of champagne chilling.

Jack’s mother slipped past him to deposit the gift bag on the hall table with the other gifts.

“Happy birthday, Jacky,” she said. “When Bitty said our job was to help distract you, I wasn’t sure we could pull it off. I thought you might insist on leaving for the restaurant too early.”

“You were in on this?” Jack said.

“Everybody was,” Bitty said. “Even the maitre d’ at Al Forno.”

“But the gift certificate …”

“A gift from me to you,” Bitty said. “For when we can have dinner, just the two of us.”

The rest of the evening went by in a blur of conversations and congratulations. Marty and Thirdy’s kids were there, hiding in the guest room, watching gamers play Animal Crossing on YouTube and coloring, but they came out to help blow out his candles.

“What about your trial coming up?” Jack asked Shitty. “And your residency?” he asked Lardo.

“Those are both real,” Lardo said. “But a funny thing about being an artist in residence: They don’t lock you in. And Shits needed a break for a little while.”

Coach Bittle looked tickled to be sharing a room with so many professional athletes, and Suzanne helped Bitty shuttle food and dishes in and out of the kitchen.

“Told you they’d want to celebrate your birthday,” Bitty said. “They flew in this morning and Shitty picked them up at the airport. They were waiting around the corner for us to leave.”

“You do like parties!” Tater boomed at Jack before leaving. “I knew it! But it took your husband to invite me.”

“That’s because it was a surprise, Tater,” Bitty said. “Jack didn’t know.”

Once everyone was gone -- not too late, because it was a Sunday -- Jack helped Bitty stow the leftovers and wash the dishes.

“How’d you know?” he asked Bitty.

“Know what, hon?”

“That I wanted a party,” Jack said. “A surprise party.”

“Jack, sweet pea, you’ve been moping around this house for weeks,” Bitty said. “All woe-is-me because your friends were busy this weekend. Of course you wanted a party. And you wouldn’t have tried to plan a surprise party for me unless you at least didn’t hate the idea.”

“How did you do such a good job planning it?” Jack said. “I really didn’t know.”

“You don’t have a suspicious mind?” Bitty said. ”Now come on. It’s nearly midnight. Let’s get to bed and you can have another birthday surprise.”

****

Jack groaned when he opened his eyes the next morning. It was late, later than he usually slept anyway. But he’d been up late the night before.

He could hear Bitty in the kitchen, opening drawers and moving plates and cookware around. Coffee was ready, probably.

He got up, dragged a T-shirt over his head and tugged on a pair of shorts, and wandered down the hall.

“Morning, bud,” Jack said.

“Jack, happy birthday!” Bitty said. “Breakfast’s almost ready, and I put all the cards and gifts from last night on the table.”

Jack worked his way through them, shaking his head at Shitty’s selection of boxer briefs emblazoned with the logos of female superheroes and grateful for the small painting from Lardo. There were restaurant gift certificates and a tie from Papa (“You always wear that old blue one!”) and reading glasses from Marty.

Then he opened his mother’s gift. It was a flat box, and it held a red leather leash and collar, along with a gift certificate for adoption fees from the animal shelter.

The enclosed note said, “I think this will be a good gift for both of you, but of course I’m not about to surprise you with a puppy. Take your time deciding which dog to adopt. In the meantime, know that there was also a $10,000 donation in your name to help support all the animals.”

“Bits,” Jack said. “Did you have any plans this morning?”

“Nothing in particular,” Bitty said. “Maybe see my parents at some point. D’you mind if they come for dinner?”

“Of course not,” Jack said. “But do you think we could go to the animal shelter?”

[snowwhitelass]

When President Donald Trump canceled a visit to the Aisne-Marne American Cemetery near Paris in 2018, he blamed rain for the last-minute decision, saying that “the helicopter couldn’t fly” and that the Secret Service wouldn’t drive him there. Neither claim was true.

Trump rejected the idea of the visit because he feared his hair would become disheveled in the rain, and because he did not believe it important to honor American war dead, according to four people with firsthand knowledge of the discussion that day. In a conversation with senior staff members on the morning of the scheduled visit, Trump said, “Why should I go to that cemetery? It’s filled with losers.” In a separate conversation on the same trip, Trump referred to the more than 1,800 marines who lost their lives at Belleau Wood as “suckers” for getting killed.

Belleau Wood is a consequential battle in American history, and the ground on which it was fought is venerated by the Marine Corps. America and its allies stopped the German advance toward Paris there in the spring of 1918. But Trump, on that same trip, asked aides, “Who were the good guys in this war?” He also said that he didn’t understand why the United States would intervene on the side of the Allies.

Trump’s understanding of concepts such as patriotism, service, and sacrifice has interested me since he expressed contempt for the war record of the late Senator John McCain, who spent more than five years as a prisoner of the North Vietnamese. “He’s not a war hero,” Trump said in 2015 while running for the Republican nomination for president. “I like people who weren’t captured.”

There was no precedent in American politics for the expression of this sort of contempt, but the performatively patriotic Trump did no damage to his candidacy by attacking McCain in this manner. Nor did he set his campaign back by attacking the parents of Humayun Khan, an Army captain who was killed in Iraq in 2004.

Trump remained fixated on McCain, one of the few prominent Republicans to continue criticizing him after he won the nomination. When McCain died, in August 2018, Trump told his senior staff, according to three sources with direct knowledge of this event, “We’re not going to support that loser’s funeral,” and he became furious, according to witnesses, when he saw flags lowered to half-staff. “What the fuck are we doing that for? Guy was a fucking loser,” the president told aides. Trump was not invited to McCain’s funeral. (These sources, and others quoted in this article, spoke on condition of anonymity. The White House did not return earlier calls for comment, but Alyssa Farah, a White House spokesperson, emailed me this statement shortly after this story was posted: “This report is false. President Trump holds the military in the highest regard. He’s demonstrated his commitment to them at every turn: delivering on his promise to give our troops a much needed pay raise, increasing military spending, signing critical veterans reforms, and supporting military spouses. This has no basis in fact.”)

Trump’s understanding of heroism has not evolved since he became president. According to sources with knowledge of the president’s views, he seems to genuinely not understand why Americans treat former prisoners of war with respect. Nor does he understand why pilots who are shot down in combat are honored by the military. On at least two occasions since becoming president, according to three sources with direct knowledge of his views, Trump referred to former President George H. W. Bush as a “loser” for being shot down by the Japanese as a Navy pilot in World War II. (Bush escaped capture, but eight other men shot down during the same mission were caught, tortured, and executed by Japanese soldiers.)

When lashing out at critics, Trump often reaches for illogical and corrosive insults, and members of the Bush family have publicly opposed him. But his cynicism about service and heroism extends even to the World War I dead buried outside Paris—people who were killed more than a quarter century before he was born. Trump finds the notion of military service difficult to understand, and the idea of volunteering to serve especially incomprehensible. (The president did not serve in the military; he received a medical deferment from the draft during the Vietnam War because of the alleged presence of bone spurs in his feet. In the 1990s, Trump said his efforts to avoid contracting sexually transmitted diseases constituted his “personal Vietnam.”)

On Memorial Day 2017, Trump visited Arlington National Cemetery, a short drive from the White House. He was accompanied on this visit by John Kelly, who was then the secretary of homeland security, and who would, a short time later, be named the White House chief of staff. The two men were set to visit Section 60, the 14-acre area of the cemetery that is the burial ground for those killed in America’s most recent wars. Kelly’s son Robert is buried in Section 60. A first lieutenant in the Marine Corps, Robert Kelly was killed in 2010 in Afghanistan. He was 29. Trump was meant, on this visit, to join John Kelly in paying respects at his son’s grave, and to comfort the families of other fallen service members. But according to sources with knowledge of this visit, Trump, while standing by Robert Kelly’s grave, turned directly to his father and said, “I don’t get it. What was in it for them?” Kelly (who declined to comment for this story) initially believed, people close to him said, that Trump was making a ham-handed reference to the selflessness of America’s all-volunteer force. But later he came to realize that Trump simply does not understand non-transactional life choices.

“He can’t fathom the idea of doing something for someone other than himself,” one of Kelly’s friends, a retired four-star general, told me. “He just thinks that anyone who does anything when there’s no direct personal gain to be had is a sucker. There’s no money in serving the nation.” Kelly’s friend went on to say, “Trump can’t imagine anyone else’s pain. That’s why he would say this to the father of a fallen marine on Memorial Day in the cemetery where he’s buried.”

I’ve asked numerous general officers over the past year for their analysis of Trump’s seeming contempt for military service. They offer a number of explanations. Some of his cynicism is rooted in frustration, they say. Trump, unlike previous presidents, tends to believe that the military, like other departments of the federal government, is beholden only to him, and not the Constitution. Many senior officers have expressed worry about Trump’s understanding of the rules governing the use of the armed forces. This issue came to a head in early June, during demonstrations in Washington, D.C., in response to police killings of Black people. James Mattis, the retired Marine general and former secretary of defense, lambasted Trump at the time for ordering law-enforcement officers to forcibly clear protesters from Lafayette Square, and for using soldiers as props: “When I joined the military, some 50 years ago, I swore an oath to support and defend the Constitution,” Mattis wrote. “Never did I dream that troops taking that same oath would be ordered under any circumstance to violate the Constitutional rights of their fellow citizens—much less to provide a bizarre photo op for the elected commander-in-chief, with military leadership standing alongside.”

Another explanation is more quotidian, and aligns with a broader understanding of Trump’s material-focused worldview. The president believes that nothing is worth doing without the promise of monetary payback, and that talented people who don’t pursue riches are “losers.” (According to eyewitnesses, after a White House briefing given by the then-chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff, General Joe Dunford, Trump turned to aides and said, “That guy is smart. Why did he join the military?”)

Yet another, related, explanation concerns what appears to be Trump’s pathological fear of appearing to look like a “sucker” himself. His capacious definition of sucker includes those who lose their lives in service to their country, as well as those who are taken prisoner, or are wounded in battle. “He has a lot of fear,” one officer with firsthand knowledge of Trump’s views said. “He doesn’t see the heroism in fighting.” Several observers told me that Trump is deeply anxious about dying or being disfigured, and this worry manifests itself as disgust for those who have suffered. Trump recently claimed that he has received the bodies of slain service members “many, many” times, but in fact he has traveled to Dover Air Force Base, the transfer point for the remains of fallen service members, only four times since becoming president. In another incident, Trump falsely claimed that he had called “virtually all” of the families of service members who had died during his term, then began rush-shipping condolence letters when families said the president was not telling the truth.

Trump has been, for the duration of his presidency, fixated on staging military parades, but only of a certain sort. In a 2018 White House planning meeting for such an event, Trump asked his staff not to include wounded veterans, on grounds that spectators would feel uncomfortable in the presence of amputees. “Nobody wants to see that,” he said.

[renaerys]

PPG One-Shot: Blowing Off Steam (Brick/Blossom)

@carriedreamerx and @kiebs have been hard at work these last couple of days drawing some really pretty art over on IG for various of our collective fics (check out their IGs, the art is super gorgeous). Since I have the artistic skills of a rock, I thought I’d say thanks with some Reds fight-and-make-out fic! This is an excerpt from an upcoming multi-chapter fic that will feature the Punks along with the Girls and the Boys. Gist of it is they’ve all been warped to a different planet and are stuck in a weird, possibly haunted house as they try to find a way out of it with punches and problem solving and *gasp* teamwork. They’re all in their late 20s in this. In this excerpt, Brick and Blossom blow off a little steam and Berserk takes all the credit.

(Unbeta’d and subject to change when I get around to posting the actual multi-chapter fic itself.)

xxx

Blossom had never felt more discomfited by Berserk’s absence than her presence, but she felt it now across the table from Brick with no one else around to draw her wandering eye, or his. He shifted his weight in his chair. She stretched her neck. He took a sip of water. She cleared her throat.

After ten minutes of this, he slammed his book shut. “What is happening?”

Blossom fixed her gaze firmly on her book and the passage she’d re-read at least four times now without absorbing any of it. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“It’s taken you twenty minutes to read two pages.”

The knee-jerk urge to refute him tugged at her like a dog begging for table scraps, but she ignored it. He wasn’t wrong. “I guess I’m finding it hard to concentrate today.”

They watched each other across the long table, and it struck her just how red his eyes were even from afar: two burning pits fixed entirely on her. Unsettling, yet strangely warm. She thought about retiring early, but she wasn’t tired. In fact, she was having some trouble sitting still in her chair. Maybe a walk outside would do her good, or even a run. Maybe Buttercup was free and up for a spar. Just anything to get her body moving and her brain blanking before her thoughts burned a hole through her skull and exposed everything to him.

“Let’s go a round,” Brick said. The sound of his chair sliding over the tile screamed in the cavernous, quiet library.

“What?”

“I feel like I’m trying to crawl out of my own skin.” He flexed a fist, and red sparks spiderwebbed along his knuckles to the wrist eager for something to burn.

Blossom’s mouth went dry at the manifest threat of his power calling to her like old ghosts. She could retreat, provide some excuse, it had worked before. But no excuse came to her now, and under the table, her fingers curled around a mass of pastel power itching for a summoning. She rose from  her chair, books forgotten, and headed for the door. “We can’t have that,” she said.

He fell into step after her not a moment later and followed her down the hall and up the second floor balcony to the first challenge room. The house was quiet and empty tonight, its vaulted ceilings cold and distant. It was as though they were the only two people awake in this uncanny place.

It took everything Blossom had not to stop and wait for him to catch up. His eyes at her back gave off a singular heat, homing and hyper-focused. Perhaps years ago, she would have never entertained the thought of turning her back on someone so dangerous. Now, the thought of what she might invite if she faced him kept her squarely focused on her destination ahead.

“Ladies first,” Brick said directly behind her when they reached the challenge room. He grabbed the edge of the door and held it open for her.

Blossom looked anywhere but back at him and stepped over the threshold. The change of pressure entering the pocket dimension made her ears pop and the access band on her wrist heat with power. As before, the walls on all sides moved as concrete structures grew and shifted, sky scrapers blooming like flowers and withering to dust, only to sprout again elsewhere. Brick followed and closed the door behind them. Already disoriented, Blossom began to float as she adjusted to the altered gravity and tried to abandon the idea of up versus down.

“Restrictions?” Brick asked. He shed his red jacket, leaving him only in his matching pants and a form-fitting tank top.

Blossom very maturely averted her gaze lest he assume she was ogling him, of all the ludicrous notions. Steeling herself, she unzipped her own red jacket and tossed it aside to join his. “Since when can you afford to restrain yourself against me?”

His laughter, light and low, shivered her to the bone. “All right, then. Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

He was on her in a flash with a hard punch. Blossom blocked at the last second, but the force sent her crashing into concrete. She barely had time to cough when he came at her again with another punch aimed at her face, but this time she dodged in the nick of time and it was his turn to eat rubble.

Adrenaline and Chemical X made for a heady, explosive cocktail in her veins that spread from her fingertips to the very ends of her long ponytail. Incandescent, pink power jumped over her bare arms as she poised to receive him again.

“Come on,” she said.

Brick glowed red, and it was her only warning before he rocketed after her. Blossom took off deeper into the maze of ever changing obstacles, the exertion only fueling her faster along in a familiar chase they had not run in years.

The pocket dimension was a death trap. Blossom darted over and under spikes and spires closing around her like jaws, her movements precise and fluid. But Brick was just as adept and wasted little energy swerving around the masticating mandible they had chosen for this evening’s playground.

Blossom swung around and under a sprouting obelisk, trusting her body to move exactly according to her will, but Brick abruptly changed course and met her mid-spin. Anticipating his sneak attack, Blossom let him have it with a wicked kick in the ribs.

Unfortunately, he was damn fast and grabbed her by the ankle just as her kick connected, and they both went flying with the force of her attack. A receding column broke Blossom’s fall with a rude crunch, and she broke Brick’s. Rose met red through a cloud of dust and electric Chemical X.

“Caught you,” he said.

Maybe it was the rush of the moment that drove her, the old thrill of the hunt from their heyday, never acknowledged but deeply felt. She felt him now, palms searing around her knee and pinning her neck, and she reached back.

Too close to avoid her open palm on his chest, Brick took her ice at point-blank range and blasted away in a flurry of snowflakes. He nearly hit a stone pillar punching out of the undulating wall, but managed to flip out of its path at the last second.

Blossom floated higher, her arms sleeved in ice and her breath misty. The temperature plummeted further as her power rippled through the pocket dimension. “Not quite,” she said in a voice that crept in between the shifting sky scrapers like hoarfrost.

Across from her, Brick’s power sluiced off him as thick as magma. He was a bright, burning star in this grey world, and god she could feel him pushing back and fighting for ground as if he were right in front of her. The chemically saturated air shimmered around him and ignited the blood in his eyes as they met hers. “Come here.”

It was all the encouragement she needed to give in to the timeless spark between them and unleash. Frost met fire as they collided, broke, and collided again. His punches smoldered, but her ice tempered them to cleansing smoke. And when she caught him in a freezing hold, he inevitably slipped through behind a veil of steam. Each unable to smother the other, they were evenly matched and forever at odds as they ricocheted off stone towers and toppled thrusting obelisks in their bid for dominance.

And that was what this was, what it had always been. Blossom had never felt the need to control and dominate another like she felt it fighting Brick. Call it fate, or design, or maybe it was just him, but there was nothing like this release, this honest surrender to the creature she was and always would be, made magnificent in the eyes of a true equal.

“I’m right here!” she taunted, with snowflakes in her hair.

Brick landed on a cracked block. The cement began to melt under the heat of his power where he crouched and captured her in those pyre-bright eyes. “Is that an invitation?” he shot back. “Or a threat?”

Alive with the thrill of unfettered competition, Blossom grinned. “Let’s find out.”

She took off at a punishing pace, half flying around the cement blocks and half skating over their frozen faces. Brick was right on her tail, his steps scorching the swaths of ice she left in her wake to cataclysmic ends. Wherever the two Supers’ extremities came into direct contact, the concrete collapsed and exploded like a parade of supernovas.

He was close, she could feel it, but he wouldn’t catch her, no way. Blossom was the best at what she did, and no one knew that better than her counterpart. But he was fast closing the distance between them, and when she chanced a glance back, there he was haloed in haze, his fire rising like great, golden chains, and he reached for her.

Blossom gasped, and it was her mistake. Brick caught her waist and pulled her back hard. The blizzard in her lungs went up in steam between his fingers clamped over her mouth. They hurtled together head over heels with Blossom kicking and jabbing with her elbows. But Brick locked her arms to her sides and anchored her to his chest until they came to a stop and she could hardly move. Pink power crackled on her skin as she thrashed in his arms, but he only laughed.

“That tickles,” he murmured.

Blossom immediately ceased her struggling. Immured in his arms with no chance of escaping unless he let her go, she became acutely aware of just how close they were. His breath was warm in her hair, and he smelled like smoke and parchment. He hadn’t loosened his hold around her at all.

“Brick,” she said, sotto voce.

He laughed again, low and husky. “Yield.”

The very word inspired an electric disdain in her. “No.”

He pressed his nose to her hair, and when he spoke his lips brushed against the side of her neck. “Are you sure?”

Blossom turned her head to look him in the eye and held on to her nerve out of sheer force of will. “Are you?”

This close, she could count his freckles and taste the heat he radiated, but there was no reading him beyond his singular and absolute focus on her.

He loosened his grip around her and pulled away. “No,” he said.

Blossom caught him before he could move away. Thoughtless perhaps, but Blossom never stopped thinking, not about their entrapment here, not about finding a way out, and not about him since the day they arrived in this strange place. She barely tugged at his shirt before he was on her again, arms around her waist and kissing her hard. Her fingers sparked with power as she threaded them through his short hair, making him groan, and he suddenly shoved them against the freezing, concrete wall until it cracked. His kiss was volcanic, as relentless as he was, and Blossom pulled him deeper with a smile.

The wall lurched at her back, and as quickly as it had begun, Brick ended the kiss and pushed her out of the way of a wicked spike just as it erupted from the enchanted wall. Blossom landed deftly on a nearby block and watched him do the same. Breathing hard, she wiped the traces of the best kiss of her life from her lips.

“Best two out of three,” he called to her.

Unable to resist, she smirked. “Restrictions?”

“You couldn’t restrain yourself against me if you tried.”

A retort sat poised on the tip of her tongue, but it still remembered his kiss and refused to cooperate.

“Blossom,” he said in a commanding tone that wanted answering.

Blossom’s power burst around her, radioactive, and she launched herself skyward. “Try and keep up.”

They spent the next two hours raining tempestuous ruin, on the pocket dimension and on each other.

xxx

Berserk took one look at Brick and Blossom when they returned to the Red Wing later that evening in their soot- and sleet-stained clothes, set her book down, and drained the rest of her bourbon. “Oh god.”

Brick rolled his eyes headed for his room. “There better be some of that left when I get out of the shower.”

Berserk flipped him the bird, which he returned behind his back before slamming the door.

Blossom hovered like a deer caught in the headlights until Berserk took pity on her and poured a fresh glass. “Here. You look like you need this more than I do.”

Blossom snapped out of it and took the offered bourbon automatically. “What?”

Jesus Christ.

You try to be nice for once, and nobody fucking appreciates it. Typical.

“Whatever.” Berserk went back to her book and her own glass of bourbon, which she topped off with the rest of the bottle so there would be none left for Brick.

Blossom didn’t fuck off to her own room like she ought to have, but instead sat down on the red sofa across from Berserk. She was smiling like a creep. Before Berserk could ask her if she needed medical assistance with whatever the hell was going on, Blossom said, “Cheers.”

Magenta eyes narrowed over the top of her book as Berserk studied her counterpart for any hint of a scheme. When she found none, she cautiously clinked her overfull glass to Blossom’s and drank.

They sat there in silence for a while. The sound of Brick’s shower was a low din behind his closed door as Berserk slowly flipped the pages of her book, some boring shit about this planet’s agricultural practices. Blossom had picked up a book of her own and curled up, her legs tucked under her in a perfect mirror to Berserk. Every once in a while Berserk would steal a glance at her counterpart and find her quiet and content with her book and bourbon. Peaceful was not quite the right word for this weirdly tranquil ambience, and Blossom for sure needed a shower. But, well…

Well.

“Thank you.”

It was so softly spoken, that had they not been reading in complete silence, Berserk may not have heard her speak. Blossom didn’t look up to acknowledge her sitting there, or even to check that Berserk had heard her.

Berserk curled a lock of her frizzy, red hair around her finger and buried her nose in her book. “Whatever.”

Blossom hid a smile behind her book and finished her drink.

xxx

Thanks for reading! <3

[darkarfs]

Lately I find myself reaching springtime levels of despair (not that the intervening months were any joyride), and I was trying to figure out why, considering that we’re heading into what seems to be the home stretch before a vaccine, we’re learning more and more about the virus and how to combat it each day, and I, my family, and most of my friends have the privilege of being able to stay home and stay safe, and I think it’s that I’ve finally accepted, as Saeed Jones said on Twitter regarding this photo, that we have been utterly abandoned.

In the spring, things were obviously terrifying and uncertain, and while I never expected anyone to be able to handle this perfectly, the extent to which things immediately went tits-up (despite having China and Italy as a warning, and— as we learned earlier this year— vastly prior knowledge of the impending crisis compared to the public) was shocking.

And I’m not a naïve fool— I’m no fan of our government, or its slavish devotion to the deathtrap of capitalism and how that informs every policy they make, so this isn’t disillusionment (that happened a long time ago, though I entertain hope at weird, desperate times), and I figured whatever care, resources, and goodwill the government (particularly the GOP) provided would mainly be in the service of optics, but I figured we’d get it. if nothing else, they couldn’t risk losing support for re-election (whether through disappointment or, uh, dead constituents). If nothing else, it looks VERY BAD to just let people die en masse when they don’t have to! I thought we could agree on that. If nothing else.

Then I figured, no, okay, the original onset was mishandled to a darkly comic degree, but now we know more about what we’re dealing with. The pandemic experts have laid out a timeline that gives us a bit of (relative) breathing room to prepare with what could potentially be a devastating fall and winter, but since we have half a year before we get to that point, surely we will have things well under control by then. We have more than enough resources to do so — this is not a shortage problem, at least not now — and we know the government can act very quickly when it wants to, like when it wants to pass a shitty law or confirm a supremely awful justice (pun intended, let me have this). I figured, okay, by providing for and protecting citizens, Trump looks like a hero, gets an ego boost, and will have an easy path to re-election (which of course bought along its own set of anxieties), so of course he’ll do it. and even if he doesn’t, surely there is at least ONE reasonable adult, ONE semi-human with a kernel or two of empathy in the White House who, if nothing else, realizes that continuing to mishandle (or simply refuse to handle) this is going to tank Trump’s 2020 chances.

But uh, no, here we are, with all this knowledge and all these examples of other countries who’ve managed to do so, so much better than we have, often with much less, and we’ve had to resign ourselves to another parade of death, to brimming ICUs and mass graves and constant ambulance sirens. (I live 5 houses away from a fire station/ambulance station. Minimum 3 a day.) This isn’t even touching on the anti-sciencers, the willing vectors, the defiant partiers, the staggering number of ‘regular’ people for whom 1% of a very large number of people dead is ‘acceptable collateral damage,’ the equally staggering number of people too selfish to make a laughably small sacrifice (one--ONE-- motherfucking Thanksgiving dinner, out of all the years you’ll get to have a motherfucking Thanksgiving dinner, you motherfucker, I’ve worked every Christmas and Thanksgiving since 2008, and every Eve and the Day After, you fuck), etc.

Just realized this was a lot of spiraling despair without a hopeful note to end on (though in a post all about my embracing hopelessness with odd spots of insane, clutching hope; I’m guessing that didn’t surprise anyone), but I will say that I have been incredibly heartened and impressed by my fellow citizens (most of y’all, anyway) and their willingness to help out, to reach out, to try to ease the burdens of others, to convert and utilize their skills – whatever they may be – to make things better for other people. Often unasked, often with no benefit if not some hindrance to them, and just – often. So I guess the message is that government sucks and community-minded organization is the way to go. Which we all knew anyway.

[nadiaportia]

Prompt 1 - Hometown: “Never Over”

For @arcana-echoes​

Summary: A partisan on the run returns to their roots and with it the guilt over their family’s fate.

Word count: ~2000

Warnings for mentions of arson, death and war.

Considering it’s a tad depressing, I feel like “enjoy” is the wrong word but you know what I mean. And yay for this being the first thing I write for The Arcana in months and feel comfortable with posting! I went with a more flashback-esque approach than I originally intended to and hope it somewhat works out.

They reached Valanguer in the late afternoon, the sun already being more than midway on her journey to the horizon.

A group of people were lounging in the shadows of a large strawberry tree, the one just outside of the village. They saw them approach, but didn’t get up from their comfortable seats. A woman wore the sandy uniform of the Queen’s Men, but that didn’t necessarily have to mean something. It was most likely stolen from a dead corpse and paraded around like a trophy. Some Queen’s Men didn’t stand behind Jacinta’s words or those of her butchers. Ultimately that mattered little to Deirdra, to most of the people who have lost someone at the Loyalists’ hands, but in the moment that might’ve helped them not getting caught and sent to prison.

“There’s a hole in the jacket, right in the sternum.” Eugeni said to Pau, but loud enough for the rest of them to hear.

“Trash’s already been taken out, then.” Renée murmured grimly and kicked a rock out of her path. 

“Told ya, I didn’t see one single llagosta the entire day I was scouting here. They don’t come back to places which they already ransacked. Folks here got lucky though, their village looks better than the one a few days away from here. That place was burned to the ground, nothing but scorched earth.”

Deirdra swallowed and tensed up. They didn’t slow their step though, they knew what they had agreed to. They could’ve chosen to go with Arnau and Lluïsa and seek refuge in the forest but when Rut had come back with the news of the village being free of Loyalists, they knew that this is where they had to be - at least one more time, before death came either at the hand of a firing squad, a bayonet, a wound that wouldn’t close up with the help of magic or get infected regardless how much it was taken care of. Living in a dreamworld where home still looked like home wasn’t what Deirdra wanted.

Something passed by their legs and rubbed itself against them. 

Enkidu was looking up at them, his beady eyes so dark and yet warm that Deidra felt themself taw a bit. They bent over and picked the marten up, gently stroking his fur and holding him close to their chest.

Renée was the only one who approved them, perhaps the only one who felt at comfort doing so but Deirdra felt the others’ worried gazes on their back. Some of them had been in the same position, but regardless of that they all felt with them.

She didn’t say anything but just gently took Deidra`s wrist, caressing it with her thumb. A silent consolation, as reassuring as saying You’re not alone out loud.

The fields where the farmers would grow wheat had been left untouched, or maybe they had already recovered. It has been two years. Everything could’ve happened. Papá had said nothing of burning fields in the letters he, like many incarcerated sympathizers, smuggled out of the prisons where they sat in. It might’ve happened after they took him away. Maybe a villager would know more.

Deirdra had thought of the possibility of someone recognizing them. The marks on their face could be a giveaway, they and Jaume had been the only ones in Valanguer who had them. Maybe the villagers would assume they were from one of the cities, and they might not even recognize them, they had a growth spurt and perhaps the dark blue hair dye was enough to throw anyone off. 

Truth be told, Deirdra was wishing to not be confronted. It might be unbearable and make the experience more real. They had come back to look at the city, not to have someone discover that a lost child came back from the dead.

 Windows were opened cautiously when the group entered the village, and Rut was right; most houses still stood. 

Those that didn’t stood out even more.

Two old men were playing a card game on a shaggy table in front of a house, they looked up curiously when Deirdra and the others passed by them. 

An old woman peered out a door and immediately closed it with a bang as soon as she saw their dark green uniforms. 

Deirdra thought for a moment about potentially being ratted out by Loyalist supporters and forced themself to calm down. Unless the old woman had younger relatives, she wouldn’t be running out to meet the Queen’s Men. They had been gone for some time, or at least that’s what they hoped.

A young man came around a corner with quick paces. His dark curls clung to his forehead and a scar split his lower lip. His nose looked like it had been broken a couple of times, and his brown eyes were steely - but not exactly unwelcoming.

“Greetings, soldiers, Welcome to Valanguer. Are you passing through or looking for a place to rest?”

Llorenç was the son of the mayor, a few years older than Deirdra. Papá would’ve said whether or not he had been a good student, Mamá would’ve talked about everything he had been up to as a free time. 

Pau took up word, as the unofficial leader of the group due to being the most experienced and oldest.

“Greetings. Depends on whether your village is safe or not. My comrades and I would love some rest but if it’s not meant to be, then we will search for our luck in the next village.”

There was no ‘next village’. Rut had told them all so just a few minutes ago.

Llorenç knew that too.

“Would a night be enough? I assume you’re on your way to the capital.”

“Yep.”

“We should talk inside my home, please follow me.”

As Llorenç led them down the street and to the mayor’s house, he introduced himself. He has been acting mayor since last year.

“Last winter some Queen’s Men from the capital came down here. Looking for insurgents and sympathizers. They took the mayor to prison for supposedly providing them with aid and food.”

His mother. Deirdra didn’t give their condolences, they didn’t tear their eyes from the ground. They thought looking at what the war had done to home would be hard to bear but not as hard as it was in reality. It was easier to bow your head and see the dirt that was the same everywhere. And yet they saw the fountain, a ruin of what it had been before where the children used to play when the summers were particularly hot.

The mayor’s house was small, smaller than Renée’s home had been back in the capital, and not all fifteen could fit in the room that served as the mayor’s office. Pau motioned for Rut and, after a brief moment of hesitance, Deirdra to come along with him. They passed Enkidu to Renée who gently stroked his head and followed Pau inside while the others remained outside.

Llorenç’s eyes hung on them for a moment, but there was no flash of recognition in them. He poured himself and his visitors fermented arboç juice.

“I personally have no love for the Queen’s Men. Filthy pillaging murderers, all of them, but the ones who do it because their lives in the city were too boring… those bastards are the scourge upon this land.” He sighed. “But not all people in here think like I do, even in villages like these there are some sympathizers for the Loyalist cause -- even if that “cause” is just killing rebellious youths.” 

Deirdra felt a knot in their stomach. The arboç juice tasted bitter despite its sweetness. Jaume had been such a rebellious youth, and how had his story ended? With a hole in the back of his skull, the most cowardly way to kill someone.

“You leave at sunrise. The Queen���s Men torched the school building that same winter and we don’t have the resources to rebuild it, but it should provide enough shelter for the night.

A shiver crawled down Deirdra’s neck and spine and instead of listening in on what the mayor had to say, they focussed on the flavor of the arboç. They had never particularly liked it but now it was a welcome memory of days long gone that would never return.

They left Llorenç’s home by the time the sun was already kissing the horizon. The sunset was beautiful to behold, the colorful hues overlapping perfectly and fading from orange to red to pink to purple to dark blue. If one looked up, the ruins of Valanguer weren’t visible anymore. 

Deirdra walked the streets with their companions, both giving them a worried look but not daring to approach the issue. 

“It looks better than some other places we’ve been to.” Rut finally said slowly and earned a sharp look from Pau.

“Don’t wander off too far and-”

“Look out, just in case. Don’t be up to any bullshit. I know.”

The both gave each other a look but let them be. Without another word Deirdra turned around and left them behind. 

Valanguer was small, so it didn’t take a lot to reach their destination, but given how often Deidra stopped to look at the houses, they had to admit to themselves they were stalling quite mercilessly. 

Some houses were deserted, the broken windows and kicked-in doors poorly repaired. Those that weren’t reminded them of turtle shells, a refuge where its inhabitants could lock themselves in until danger had passed. The Queen’s Men probably passed by a lot more often than they had at first thought -- maybe they had just left, or were already on their way. Valanguer was a two day trip away from a small town that was known to be full of Loyalist sympathizers, it was a surprise the surrounding lands weren’t infested with llagostes. 

They had left nothing of where the Margalit-Araya used to live. In a village that was burnt to the ground, one blackened ruin didn’t stand out a lot, but here, where mercy had prevailed (until now that was), it stuck out like a sore thumb. There must’ve been nothing left to salvage, and Deirdra felt actual pain at the thought of what had all been lost in the flames. They stood in front of the ruins of their childhood home for a long time, refusing to turn away in an act of self-imposed torture. 

Maybe if they hadn’t left on a whim that night and stayed instead they would’ve been able to take both Papá and Mamá away from here, even if it would’ve ultimately been against their wishes because leaving Valanguer, their home, left leaving behind their lives and leaving behind Jaume, and especially the latter was something neither would have wanted in their sentimentality. And where had they all ended up? Either dead, in prison or on the run, from both those responsible for their -- everyone’s, because they were hardly the only ones -- misery and their own guilt.

Footsteps made them twitch and just from the sound of it, they knew who it was.

“The others said I should leave you alone but I don’t think that’s the right thing to do.”

Renée’s hand rubbed their back and Deirdra felt her put her head against her shoulder. 

“This isn’t how I wanted you to see my home.” Their throat felt dry, like sandpaper, but also surprisingly steady. Deirdra was glad to not feel the need to cry.

“I’m so sorry.” Renée’s lips gently touched their temple and her hand, rough and with calluses, took a hold of Deirdra’s. “When this is over--” She paused, unsure of what to say.

Deirdra turned to look at her and allowed Renée to caress their face, wrap her arms around their neck and pull them close in a hug.

When this is over. They all talked a lot about how things would be when this would be over. Everything destroyed would be repaired, Queen Jacinta chased out of the country and back to her Calpacian liege lords, tail between her legs like any good vassal, and the Orioli would be truly free.

But for Deirdra it wouldn’t be over. And they had the feeling that it would never truly be.

[soundofseventeen]

Under the Umbrella (Kim Mingyu)

Alright y’all...you have my full permission to condemn me for never being on. I meant to have this posted like two weeks ago, but moving is hectic. Anyways, a happy late birthday to @notprincesscharming and @mingyulonglegs and I hope y’all like this! -Bee

Word count: 4962

“Y/N, don’t forget the umbrella,” Joshua called from the kitchen. “The news said it was actually gonna rain today.” He came into the living room, holding a bowl of popcorn, calmly sticking them into his mouth one by one. He eyed your casual attire, wondering if you’d be able to make it without getting wet.

You shook your head as if reading his mind. “They’ve been saying that since...forever ago and it’s been nothing but hot weather. I’ll live.” You sighed when your roommate shook his head at you, and went back to find said umbrella and came back out with a small huff and he nodded approvingly. You had just opened the door, stepping outside and only stopping when you remembered. “Do you need anything?”

“The will to live might be nice! I’m ready to drop out or get hit by a bus….I’m fine with either option at this point.” He flashed you his famous devil may care grin. “Anything will be better than this torture.”

You pulled out all the won in your pocket and waved it at him. “Sorry pal; the best I can do is an energy drink and maybe some ramen if you’re lucky.”

“I can live with that. Make sure it’s not that low carb shit though! Last time, I had a crash so bad that I slept for two days.” The engagement ring on his finger reflected against the sun and it shone on your face, making you turn away with a grimace. The wedding was a week away and you couldn’t believe how soon so many things that’d change. At least you knew that this would always be intact.

“You take what you get and you don’t complain!” You laughed and closed the door, ready to head to town for the week’s groceries since Joshua would be doing the cooking for a few more days. The sky was blue but a hint of the gray clouds colored around it. Rain had been in the forecast for sometime but it had yet to fall and you knew once it happened, the last traces of the humid weather would disappear for the remainder of the year and the cold would take its place.

Normally, you’d be thrilled to bring out your sweaters and blankets and parade down the streets in your favorite boots but lately you couldn’t find yourself to move past the summer or the adventures it brought. You could still taste the watermelon when you speared it with a toothpick and ate it while you waited in the laundromat for the washer to finish its last spin cycle and you could hear the songs playing on the radio while you roasted marshmallows and swatted the pesky mosquitoes while the campfire crackled happily with the attention. And you could smell the sunblock as you rubbed it on your skin even though you didn’t plan on leaving the shade. These memories you couldn’t let go of just yet and you hoped it could stay like that just a little longer until you could accept it. Especially when those expressive brown eyes and warm smiles that lit your soul from the inside out seemed dedicated to searing themselves deeper and deeper into your heart until a permanent mark took its place. You dusted the nonexistent dog hair off your shirt, hoping to shake it off.

The grocery shopping didn’t take as long as you expected it to, so you took the long way home, picking up a few extra things on the way back, even cutting your roommate some slack and picking up some takeout so he wouldn’t dirty the kitchen you spent a long time cleaning up. You didn’t enjoy the hot breeze that hit your face but it still hinted at the summer weather and for that, you were grateful. You walked past a popular restaurant, pausing when you recognized Minghao and nearly waved at him until you saw that he wasn’t alone. Your breath got caught in your throat and you struggled to get it out, your lungs failing you. Your hands trembled a little at the sight and it took all your power not to drop all the items in your hand and turn around. Minghao saw you and he waved, but you couldn’t. You merely walked past the window, not bothering to turn back until you were sure you wouldn’t see either of them. You faked a smile and a good mood for Joshua (which he bought, bless his soul) as you chatted (or rather gloated at how you were right and you didn’t need the umbrella) at the table and when you went outside to take the trash out, you looked at the evening sky once more.

Not a hint of rain.

*

The relationship you had hadn’t always been this way and you didn’t think you’d even make it as far as it did. You and Joshua had agreed to travel abroad together to experience a life outside of your home while you continued your studies, deciding that you needed a culture shock at least once in your life. You lucked out when you moved somewhere you could still speak English but the same couldn’t be said for others. That’s how Joshua met Kim Mingyu when they became roommates for a year.

Mingyu was someone who understood the basics of English but often had trouble communicating so the pair became fast friends because Joshua spoke Korean almost as well as Mingyu. It’s not that you didn’t have an interest in getting to know him, but you stayed in your dorm a lot, often studying and refusing to leave the place when your social anxiety kicked in, especially when it felt like you couldn’t relate to your own roommate. But when you started spending more time in their dorms, it seemed inevitable to befriend him as well.

He piqued your interest when you saw the photographs hanging all over the place and how good they looked even if he wasn’t a professional. He took a lot of candid pictures Joshua and many other boys you recognized both in your class and around the campus, and you noticed the captions on the back, writing the dates and the activities and the food stains that contrasted against the whiteness of the Polaroid he sometimes used. You were confused when you saw yourself in some of the background photos because you couldn’t remember Mingyu ever taking out a camera in your presence. It surprised you even more when you found out it was more of a hobby than a passion for him.

You weren’t sure what sparked the movement but you just knew that one day he was your best friend’s roommate and the next, he showed you his private world that included bass playing and poetry slams his other friends helped him write. He left after a couple of semesters due to him still being undecided in his major, but exchanged social media to keep in touch with each other’s lives. He was a great friend and even though it hadn’t been meant to have him around for a long time, you were satisfied in knowing you could watch him grow and cheer for him from afar. After all, it was a big wide world and you didn’t expect to cross paths with him again, not when he was destined for great things and his lack of posts on his social media proved it.

Over the school years, you and Joshua hopped around from university to university and meeting new people and being introduced to new things. You two dated around, although no serious commitments ever came out out of that, which sometimes bothered you because of the pressure to find someone hit you out of nowhere but Joshua often encouraged you to shrug it off and have fun. You wanted something serious but also your wanderlust always won in the end and you knew finding someone who was okay with you seeing parts of the world with your best friend was nearly impossible.

Your luck seemed to change when you arrived in South Korea. Tired of always asking your parents to transfer money into your bank account, you obtained a work visa to provide for your necessities and Joshua followed suit. You finally managed to move out of the dorms and into your own apartment with him as your roommate. Granted, you struggled in the beginning but anywhere seemed like a better option than sharing a place with someone you didn’t know.

It didn’t surprise you when Joshua casually announced he was going on a date one night you were doing calculus but you wondered why it had taken so long. When the first date turned into a second and then a third, you felt lonely because he didn’t stay home as much, even though he tried not make you feel left out and you appreciated that. However, you knew that you couldn’t hold onto him forever, especially because he seemed serious about this one. So you sucked it up and let Joshua be, keeping your emotions to a minimum.

One day, while at the hardware store, you were browsing the aisles, looking for the paint section because the living room needed a new coat when you saw a familiar face. He stuck out like a sore thumb even after not seeing him in a few years. Kim Mingyu carefully balanced the bird feeders in his arms and when he struggled to hold onto them, you found yourself running to help when one nearly toppled to the floor. His eyes widened when he saw you but he treated you like an old friend as he chatted away about the old lady near his house who was too old to replace her old ones and your paint was long forgotten. Just before he left, he said it had been good to see you again and it was a small world to wind up there of all places. You left home with a good mood at seeing him even though you exchanged nothing except a small catchup on your lives.

A month later, you found out you worked next door to each other when you had gone out for lunch and you saw him leave a local clinic for his own lunch. He called your name, flashed you a smile and waved you down, heading in opposite directions and all, and you ended up eating at a Japanese restaurant he swore was the best in the area. From there, not only did you try to time your lunch breaks to at least see him, but you finally managed to get his phone number although you quickly realized he was busy outside of work too. He had hobbies that included building cabinets and desks and painting them, and often checked in with the ajumma in exchange for learning her recipes. (He said it was good for future résumés.) He had switched to online courses so he’d have more time to do things so whenever you saw him during the lunch hours you couldn’t meet up, you’d see him with a laptop stuck to his face as he typed away.

The first time he asked you to hang out with him after work happened at the last minute. With work being slow, you were allowed a couple of hours earlier than usual when he had walked out, his phone wedged between his shoulder and his ear as he locked up, assuring someone it’d be okay. He had spotted you the moment he hung up and asked if you were busy. When you told him no, he apologized for asking you last minute but he had planned to go to a concert with his friend Seungcheol, but his sister had broken her arm and they were currently at the hospital and if you’d like to go. You thought about it a moment, quickly weighing out the pros and cons, and agreed. You texted him your address and he promised to pick you up within 30 minutes. Joshua wasn’t there so you wrote him a note not to wait up for you and that you had your keys in case you arrived later than planned and Mingyu whisked you away for the afternoon.

You two hit it off and before you knew it, he became part of your everyday life and you managed to balance school, work, home and now him. He began calling you weekly to see if you’d like to accompany him to do laundry late at night and most of the time, you said yes. Though most of the time he worked on his assignments, he made sure to bring the seasonal fruit in a container for you two to snack on until you complained you were hungry and he dashed to the McDonald’s across the street for a last minute meal. He invited you to a lot of other places that recommended or required a plus one and you went along with him whenever time allowed.

It took you a lot longer that you wanted to admit that he was someone who couldn’t be alone. Most of his personality trait revolved around the fact that he needed constant companionship and it wasn’t a bad thing but when you asked him about it he shrugged and said he liked being around people. But he did, however, invite you to an animal shelter and he rescued a pup that he fell in love with immediately. And then you figured out he liked helping others, felt a sense of responsibility and pride when he looked after people, and when you brought it up to him another night, he gripped the insect repellent little too tightly which made it slip from his hands and fall with a dusty crash next to Aji who woke up scared from her nap. He never thought of it like that and with a shy smile, he placed his hand on your knee and explained his dream to become a nurse to feel that sense of belonging in the world while Ed Sheehan sang contentedly in the background.

Joshua met him again and the two often made plans to hang out when their schedules lined up. Apparently they had a ton of mutual friends and they spent a lot of time together, often making a party out of study dates. You didn’t accompany them those times, instead taking advantage of the peace and quiet to catch up on your work, sleep or latest Netflix binge until your roommate came back.

Joshua noticed the sparkle in your eye whenever he saw you with Mingyu or whenever Mingyu stopped by, but he never said anything in fear of you denying it and pushing Mingyu away because it had happened in the past with a few others. However, he knew it wasn’t his business to interfere with your love life so he let you be, watching you slowly fall in love Mingyu, but also wondering if you’d ever make your move. He could tell that while watching Mingyu spraying your back with the sunblock and begging you to join him for a swim, he’d be your one that got away and he remained unsure if you’d be able to bounce back from that. That was one heartbreak Joshua would not know how to handle.

You swore you could never do that, but it was dusk and you saw him fiddling with the bass trying to keep the somber timbre between Hansol and Wonwoo rapping about hope despite the hopelessness they painted and you could feel Joshua wrapping his fingers around your hand as he let their words of affirmation sink in. You squeezed his hand back in reassurance, his breakdown still fresh in your minds and only let it go when you stood up to give Mingyu his well deserved standing ovation and you realized just how far you fell into the rabbit hole. He met your gaze bashfully and looked away just as quickly, a rare thing for someone as confident as Kim Mingyu. You threw a stray flower in his direction, to which he caught by the pink petal and fumbled out a meek, “thank you,” and walked offstage before anymore attention would be on him.

He might have not been the brightest crayon in the box, with the way he’d suddenly exclaim at a bruise he barely noticed while you talked about the possibility of failing one of your classes or whenever he called you in the middle of the night when you were dead asleep and asked if you wanted to go have dinner because he had just finished building the ajuma’s house for her blue jays (but you rejected those offers most of the time). Rather, it was the way he talked a hundred words a minute when it came down to him teaching Aji a new trick to when he raved about how Soonyoung was his favorite person for giving him extra guacamole so he wouldn’t have to ask for more. And your favorite times were when he’d swipe his eyes happily when he told you about the recovering drug addicts and alcoholics and how long they had stayed sober.

Just like that, you could feel the ache in your chest because you were just one of many of Mingyu’s admirers. He treated you the way he treated everyone else: with common courtesy and basic respect. You could easily find him having a meal with one of his coworkers while on break the same way you knew his everyday hobbies that included people. You didn’t let it get to you; just being his friend was more than enough. You merely smiled when it was your turn to spend time with him, feeling like the luckiest person walking the planet because you had been blessed with an angel...with respects to Jeonghan of course.

You kept him close, often letting him fall asleep during a movie when he overworked himself, and turning the air conditioner on as low as it could go because he radiated more body heat than you ever could and then covering yourselves with a blanket so he wouldn’t get cold and helping him make dinner when he didn’t have enough to go out and pretending you were in a relationship, because when he’d pick up whatever he was cooking with his chopsticks, and blowing on it so he could feed it to you and get your opinion, you couldn’t help but feel how domestic it was, especially if you managed to get sauce on your face somewhere and he’d clean it off with a napkin.

And then somewhere between your own mental breakdown from stressing out over everything and Joshua one day telling you he’s getting married, Mingyu also dropped the news he’d be leaving at the end of the month to Japan to pursue a cooking career which turned your life upside down and you went out of your way to shut him out so the goodbye could be easier. It worked some days, like when you agreed to open or close at work so you wouldn’t bump into him and joining a couple of study groups so you wouldn’t outright fail your classes and even accompanied Joshua to see the caterers that interested him the most. You’d be so tired at night, Mingyu wouldn’t even cross your mind as your head hit the pillow and your eyes closed involuntarily and you brought your blanket as close to your face as you could. And some days, it felt impossible because a piece of Mingyu always seemed to be everywhere: the grocery store, the gym you passed by on your way home, the park and you could recall the details, even the insignificant ones like Mingyu tying tying his shoe and jumping in surprise at the bee that flew in his face, mistaking him for a flower. (Could you blame the bee though? He bloomed fully with the light in his eyes and the clean smell from all the soaps and detergents and fabric softener he threw in the washer, and how beautiful he was to marvel at. You would’ve done the same thing.)

The leaves finally started changing their colors, the department stores breaking out the scarves for the cold weather, the coffee shops with their infamous pumpkin spiced everything, and the night crept in earlier with each passing day and yet, the warm weather remained as if not quite letting you let go of Mingyu either.

And even when the first day of autumn officially arrived with promises of rain in the forecast, you still sighed heavily and wondered when the summer would be over for you.

*

“Don’t wait up for me,” Joshua said on the other end of the line. “We’re still looking for homes and the person who owns the venue might be late.”

“You have three days until your wedding and-never mind. Be careful both of you. You have your key, right? Okay, yeah. I’ll see you tomorrow.” You hung up and immediately went to your room to pick up the (overdue) library books as well as the ones neatly stacked up on the kitchen counter. You were thankful that the librarian working today was familiar with you and wouldn’t charge you the late fees and for that you were grateful.

This particular day brought the time of firsts. You woke up in the morning feeling well rested and okay, and when you opened your window, a cool breeze greeted you. You even checked the weather app, and for the first time in a long time, there was no rain scheduled in the forecast. With that, you burst into a sleeping Joshua’s room and announced the good news, and running out to search for your favorite slipper socks and blanket for the special occasion. You didn’t work and you had finally caught up in most of your classes so as a reward, you binge watched all your favorite movies with your roommate until he had to get ready for the final wedding preparations and hopefully find a place to live. He asked you to come with him, especially because the temperature rose and he found it difficult not to laugh at you for getting carried away but you declined, savoring the day until reality kicked in again. That happened sooner than expected when you saw your books and cursed yourself and gave in, switching out of your pajamas for a pair of shorts.

Chan snickered at you when you sheepishly handed him the books, and as part of the deal, handed him his favorite packet of gum in exchange for the override and after picking out new reads, saw you off with a sarcastic yet happy, “See you next time!” and stuck a stick of spearmint gum in his mouth and blew a bubble.

You hadn’t even been inside long but when you stepped out, you noticed the sky had turned a dark gray color. The cold air picked at your skin and you rubbed your hands up and down along your arms to keep warm. It wasn’t a long walk but you didn’t know if you’d be able to handle it. You stopped long enough to put the books into your backpack when you felt the raindrops...and you groaned. The one time you didn’t bring your umbrella and this happened. And you hated the meteorologist in charge of the Seoul weather for not doing their job properly. It fell long and hard with the pent up energy of not doing it sooner.

You had yet to get up but you didn’t have the strength to, feeling overwhelmed as if you had just experienced a betrayal. You were supposed to enjoy the change in climate, not suffocate in it. And just like that, it stopped…but not really. It still fell around you, but it wasn’t pelting you like before. You looked up to see none other than the Kim Mingyu shielding you and himself from the rain. He offered his hand to you, and you hesitantly took it as you stood up.

“What are you doing out here dressed like that? You’re gonna get sick.”

“I didn’t know it was gonna rain. I...had to turn in some books and got some new ones.”

“Doesn’t Joshua hyung take care of you?” The tone he used surprised you. It sounded bitter, almost angry even.

“Joshua had some stuff to do for the wedding,” you mumbled, staring at the wet ground. You didn’t doubt that a few minutes, it’d be pooling at your ankles and you knew that you had to leave. Fast.

“Oh.” He stayed quiet for a moment, but not making an effort to move. “I haven’t seen him lately but please tell him I’m sorry that I’m not gonna be able to attend the ceremony.”

“Mingyu-” You were at a loss for words. “He’s one of your best friends. You need to be there.”

“I’m sorry, but I can’t. It’d…” He struggled to say thoughts out, only to fail and choke on them. “I can’t go. He’s one lucky guy.”

You nodded. “I agree. It’s what he’s wanted.”

“Is it what you want though?” He asked.

“Huh?” You looked up at him in confusion. His eyes, often telling the stories of his emotions, stared at you intensely, and you wondered if for a moment, he could see the inside of your soul.

“Does he make you happy?”

“Well, yeah. Mingyu, he’s my best friend-”

“Do you know that he’s cheating on you?”

“What?”

“While you’re over here, probably coming down with a cold, he’s out with someone else. I saw them earlier. They were laughing and holding hands and kissing I’m sorry you had to find out this way, but I can’t come to your wedding knowing that he’s gonna hurt you later in life and-”

And you laughed. So hard you cried and with those tears came all the emotions you’ve been repressing and you cried for everything and he held you with the arm that wasn’t holding the umbrella. “Mingyu…” you had to catch your breath before you could speak properly. “Mingyu, I’m not marrying Joshua.”

“Oh thank God you’ve come to your senses.”

“Mingyu, I never was. I could never, not even for all the money in the world. I love him, I really do, but not like that. Don’t you know that by now?”

“But you guys...are always doing things together...I heard you once when he called you about the flavor of cake you wanted...and how you’re always showing up everywhere together....”

“Mingyu, we’re roommates and friends. It has never gone beyond the platonic level.” Except for one drunken kiss you shared a long time ago, but it was a dare. You had witnesses. “We do a lot of things because it’s convenient for us too.” You took his hand and wrapped your pinkie around his. “He’s happy and I’m happy just the way we are.”

“So you’re not in love with him?” He wiped the last of your tears with his sleeve, looking hopeful.

“No...just you.” You dropped your gaze, not wanting to see his reaction, but wating to hear the rejection.

With that, he dropped the umbrella and took your face in his hands, not caring about getting wet. “You have no idea how long I’ve been wanting to hear you say that.” He pressed his forehead to yours. “I thought, I thought-”

“It’s just you,” you assured him. “It’s always been you, I guess. I don’t think I’ve ever wanted something as much as this.”

He finally closed the distance between you, enveloping you in a kiss with so much love, it left you breathless. “Let’s go home.”

*

Mingyu laughed as you stepped on him again but didn’t say anything. Since the band played at the reception, he hadn’t let you take a break and while you had gotten a little better, you still had a ways to improve. He kissed your cheek at the effort, and finally cut you some slack and returned to the table, holding your hand proudly the whole time.

The room was alive with music, the laughter and squeals of the children as they ran across the floor, some of them bumping into the dancers, the compliments of the place and the critiques of those family members who wouldn’t have been pleased even if the venue was made of gold, and still you looked around at everyone, the face of the married man who was still gonna be your best friend, to his friends and their dates, smiling at Vernon and his love, just because you knew their history and how his love denied they were together, even though you could see the Hansol’s ring around the neck, loud and clear for the public to see. (You could hear the conversation despite the noise. “I’m gonna smack you right now. Just walk away while you have a chance.”

“You need to let go of my hand first.”

“I’ll do no such thing.”

“Sucks. ‘Bye.”

“Chwe Hansol, come back and give me attention. I’m not done holding your hand.”)

As Joshua clinked his glass to get everyone’s attention, he caught your eye and smiled at you. He stated his speech about his move with you and even though many things had changed, things were relatively the same as well. He was uncertain about his future but one thing remained clear: with his love, he could face anything.

And you looked at Mingyu again, staring at you with a smile on his face, and you kissed him softly. Because as long as you had him, the world could hurl whatever it wanted at you.

[aion-rsa]

High-Rise Invasion Review: Bloody Anime is a Satisfying Character Study

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This review contains no spoilers and is based on all 12 episodes of High-Rise Invasion season 1.

“I refuse to die. I won’t lose to a world like this.”

There’s nothing quite like a good, heightened mystery, especially if it’s working in tandem with something like the horror genre. Audiences have become increasingly savvy towards and desensitized by even the most extreme examples of each genre, which pushes entertainment to go even further. 

This isn’t always the right approach, but it can sometimes be just the right kind of crazy and High-Rise Invasion succeeds in finding that balance. The new Netflix anime initially feels like Rob Zombie’s animated take on The Most Dangerous Game or Battle Royale, but it soon becomes far more than a parade of blood, guts, and lunatics. High-Rise Invasion has a complex message that it wants to convey and the anime cuts much deeper than the simple flesh wounds that cover the cast of characters. 

Yuri Honjo is a typical teenager who wakes up in an abstract prison reality that consists purely of the tops of skyscrapers and pits regular humans against deadly individuals in intimidating masks. It’s a lot like if John Wick’s assassins consisted purely from the serial killers in The Strangers. It’s a chilling scenario and Yuri is running for her life too quickly to be able to properly question what’s going on. Yuri learns that her brother, Rika, is also in this strange scenario and her goal becomes to reunite with her sibling and find an escape together.

Read more

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Aesthetics are a major factor in anime and High-Rise Invasion tries its best to present visuals that are as engaging as central mystery and story. High-Rise Invasion comes from the more recent anime studio, Zero-G, but it’s definitely one of their most polished works. There’s a strong art direction here and the animation style even feels reminiscent of a grungy anime OVA from the ’80s. The anime’s soundtrack beautifully taps into this energy and it’s full of electric guitar rock riffs that honestly feel like they could be Queen tracks. They intensify and become more wild during the anime’s more chaotic moments. 

At first it appears as if the objective in High-Rise Invasion is rather cut and dry, but Yuri learns something radically different each time that she digs deeper into her surroundings or the murderous individuals who wear masks. The anime does a good job with how it illustrates that the masked antagonists are victims in their own ways and that there’s an even higher power that’s using everyone as tools to fulfill a twisted game. The complications and layers behind the new “realm” that Yuri is stuck in are what give the anime such life and make it more than some edgy hack-and-slash action series. 

The ideas that High-Rise Invasion poses turn the anime into a larger meditation on what humans will do to survive and how far they will sell their values in order to secure their safety. This isn’t exactly an original idea, especially with how some mysterious and shady benefactor is behind the whole operation, but the execution is at least very unique.

It becomes a creative character study that does manage to say something new on these themes. Some of the most entertaining material that’s tackled through this is Yuri’s struggle to find a way to survive, but to not become worse than the monsters that hunt her. It’s a struggle that’s present from the very first episode and High-Rise Invasion explores it in a pseudo-realistic manner that doesn’t feel overly rushed for Yuri’s development.

A major source of tension in the series stems from how Yuri is trusting and wants to see the bests in others, but this makes her a major liability in the process. This is a game where no one should be trusted and allies are collateral damage in the making, but Yuri finds a real sense of purpose and security when she meets another lost soul in this world, Mayuko Nise. Mayuko’s aggressive personality is quite the contrast to Yuri, but there’s immediately a palpable chemistry between them.

Mayuko gets introduced as an ally for Yuri, but Sniper Mask gets brought in just as quickly as a formidable opponent. He’s treated as a parallel figure to Yuri who also wants to figure out the basics of this world, but he comes at it from a different angle than Yuri and Mayuko’s necessity for survival. Sniper Mask ultimately becomes the most fascinating of High-Rise Invasion’s characters since he exists in this fractured state where he has some level of awareness that allows him to question the rules that govern this realm. 

High-Rise Invasion unpacks this larger mystery with three separate series of events between Yuri’s party, Rika’s group, and Sniper Mask’s team. These three narratives all cover different aspects of this universe and it’s an effective strategy that builds real excitement once these disparate objectives get to align and come together. It all helps contribute another layer to how the true goal of this situation may not be to escape and that there’s actually something more appealing to those within the universe.

People will likely come into High-Rise Invasion for the murder and trippy concept, but they’ll leave talking about the friendship between Yuri Honjo and Mayuko Nise. Yuri explodes with joy whenever Mayuko shows her appreciation and they form a sisterly bond that’s truly wonderful, as is Mayuko’s embarrassment every time she opens herself up to Yuri a little more. These two have somehow brought out the best in each other in this twisted world and the growing bond between them is one of the highlights of the series. They’re the new reigning Murder Wives.

No one in the cast feels like a waste, but Yuri and Mayuko grow into especially entertaining protagonists who have a surreal sense of humor and empathy that add a lot to each of them. Mayuko’s romantic love towards sharp blades is a good example of High-Rise Invasion’s wild mix of sensibilities. The dynamic between Yuri and Mayuko is a consistent delight, but High-Rise Invasion develops strong character dynamics across the board and there are multiple pairings of unlikely figures that blossom into endearing friendships by the end of the season. Sniper Mask is often played in juxtaposition to Yuri and his bond with Kuon Shinzaki is also genuinely sweet. 

The vocal performances in the English version are also exceptional across the board and add a lot to the characters. Suzi Yeung as Yuri and Jonas Scott as Sniper Mask are the best of the lot, but everyone makes a strong impression. The Mask characters are by nature caricatures and all have generalized names that speak to their weapon of choice like Sniper Mask, Axe Mask, or even Masked Rider Mask. Baseball Mask and Chef Mask are some of the most creative of the lot and are also highly terrifying. High-Rise Invasion at least seems to be aware of how absurd and exaggerated all of this is and is in on the “joke.”

It’s common for series with an overarching mystery as dense as High-Rise Invasion to drag things out or for there to not be enough content to sustain the entire season. High-Rise Invasion very carefully parses out details where different characters collect disparate nuggets of what’s going on in this “realm,” while the audience is allowed to piece all of this together and try to get a little ahead of the game. The anime is also a case where it only improves as the season goes on and it doesn’t run out of ammunition after the first few installments. If anything, it uses this time to work out its more awkward impulses and really find its groove with the characters and structure.

Once everything does come together there’s a considerably different story being told than what it initially seemed. The answers that High-Rise Invasion provides are satisfying and still leave plenty to be discovered in subsequent seasons. These episodes do feel like the end of a first chapter and that the anime and its world are about to get considerably bigger in its second season, yet there’s still enough of a full story being told that the ending doesn’t feel incomplete. 

High-Rise Invasion is a very satisfying journey that’s thankfully more than the sum of its parts. It’d be easy for this series to coast on some creepy imagery and boatloads of violence, but there’s a more intricate story that’s in play here. It does give in to some of its baser instincts at times, but this first season delicately builds a gripping mythology and solid foundation to fall back on. 

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

This is an anime with dozens of murders across its 12 episodes, heightened brainwashed assassins, and those that want to ascend to a level of deity, but it’s really about finding independence in an oppressive world and how the right friend can change someone’s universe. High-Rise Invasion manages to make its gonzo murder party somehow feel relatable and spill just as much empathy as it does viscera.  

All 12 episodes of season one of High-Rise Invasion are now available to stream on Netflix

The post High-Rise Invasion Review: Bloody Anime is a Satisfying Character Study appeared first on Den of Geek.

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

[mongoose232323]

Who Would Think A Donald Trump

A 5-Time Draft Dodger Would Say This

Americans Who Died In War Are ‘Losers’

And ‘Suckers’

~ Donald J. Trump ~

His Niece Mary Trump Said This

Anybody Who Is Surprised By Donald Trump’s

Comments Is Once Again Letting Him Off The

Hook When He Has Time After Time Demonstrated

Himself To Be Nothing But An Anti-American,

Anti-Military Traitor To This Country.

~ Mary Trump ~

Quite An Amazing Article

From The Article

The president has repeatedly disparaged the intelligence of service members, and asked that wounded veterans be kept out of military parades, multiple sources tell The Atlantic.

When Donald Trump canceled a visit to the Aisne-Marne American Cemetery near Paris in 2018, he blamed rain for the last-minute decision, saying that “the helicopter couldn’t fly” and that the Secret Service wouldn’t drive him there. Neither claim was true.

Trump rejected the idea of the visit because he feared his hair would become disheveled in the rain, and because he did not believe it important to honor American war dead, according to four people with firsthand knowledge of the discussion that day. In a conversation with senior staff members on the morning of the scheduled visit, Trump said, “Why should I go to that cemetery? It’s filled with losers.” In a separate conversation on the same trip, Trump referred to the more than 1,800 marines who lost their lives at Belleau Wood as “suckers” for getting killed.

Belleau Wood is a consequential battle in American history, and the ground on which it was fought is venerated by the Marine Corps. America and its allies stopped the German advance toward Paris there in the spring of 1918. But Trump, on that same trip, asked aides, “Who were the good guys in this war?” He also said that he didn’t understand why the United States would intervene on the side of the Allies.

Trump’s understanding of concepts such as patriotism, service, and sacrifice has interested me since he expressed contempt for the war record of the late Senator John McCain, who spent more than five years as a prisoner of the North Vietnamese. “He’s not a war hero,” Trump said in 2015 while running for the Republican nomination for president. “I like people who weren’t captured.”

There was no precedent in American politics for the expression of this sort of contempt, but the performatively patriotic Trump did no damage to his candidacy by attacking McCain in this manner. Nor did he set his campaign back by attacking the parents of Humayun Khan, an Army captain who was killed in Iraq in 2004.

Trump remained fixated on McCain, one of the few prominent Republicans to continue criticizing him after he won the nomination. When McCain died, in August 2018, Trump told his senior staff, according to three sources with direct knowledge of this event, “We’re not going to support that loser’s funeral,” and he became furious, according to witnesses, when he saw flags lowered to half-staff. “What the fuck are we doing that for? Guy was a fucking loser,” the president told aides. Trump was not invited to McCain’s funeral. (These sources, and others quoted in this article, spoke on condition of anonymity. The White House did not return earlier calls for comment, but Alyssa Farah, a White House spokesperson, emailed me this statement shortly after this story was posted: “This report is false. President Trump holds the military in the highest regard. He’s demonstrated his commitment to them at every turn: delivering on his promise to give our troops a much needed pay raise, increasing military spending, signing critical veterans reforms, and supporting military spouses. This has no basis in fact.”)

Trump’s understanding of heroism has not evolved since he became president. According to sources with knowledge of the president’s views, he seems to genuinely not understand why Americans treat former prisoners of war with respect. Nor does he understand why pilots who are shot down in combat are honored by the military. On at least two occasions since becoming president, according to three sources with direct knowledge of his views, Trump referred to former President George H. W. Bush as a “loser” for being shot down by the Japanese as a Navy pilot in World War II. (Bush escaped capture, but eight other men shot down during the same mission were caught, tortured, and executed by Japanese soldiers.)

When lashing out at critics, Trump often reaches for illogical and corrosive insults, and members of the Bush family have publicly opposed him. But his cynicism about service and heroism extends even to the World War I dead buried outside Paris—people who were killed more than a quarter century before he was born. Trump finds the notion of military service difficult to understand, and the idea of volunteering to serve especially incomprehensible. (The president did not serve in the military; he received a medical deferment from the draft during the Vietnam War because of the alleged presence of bone spurs in his feet. In the 1990s, Trump said his efforts to avoid contracting sexually transmitted diseases constituted his “personal Vietnam.”)

On Memorial Day 2017, Trump visited Arlington National Cemetery, a short drive from the White House. He was accompanied on this visit by John Kelly, who was then the secretary of homeland security, and who would, a short time later, be named the White House chief of staff. The two men were set to visit Section 60, the 14-acre area of the cemetery that is the burial ground for those killed in America’s most recent wars. Kelly’s son Robert is buried in Section 60. A first lieutenant in the Marine Corps, Robert Kelly was killed in 2010 in Afghanistan. He was 29. Trump was meant, on this visit, to join John Kelly in paying respects at his son’s grave, and to comfort the families of other fallen service members. But according to sources with knowledge of this visit, Trump, while standing by Robert Kelly’s grave, turned directly to his father and said, “I don’t get it. What was in it for them?” Kelly (who declined to comment for this story) initially believed, people close to him said, that Trump was making a ham-handed reference to the selflessness of America’s all-volunteer force. But later he came to realize that Trump simply does not understand non-transactional life choices.

“He can’t fathom the idea of doing something for someone other than himself,” one of Kelly’s friends, a retired four-star general, told me. “He just thinks that anyone who does anything when there’s no direct personal gain to be had is a sucker. There’s no money in serving the nation.” Kelly’s friend went on to say, “Trump can’t imagine anyone else’s pain. That’s why he would say this to the father of a fallen marine on Memorial Day in the cemetery where he’s buried.”

I’ve asked numerous general officers over the past year for their analysis of Trump’s seeming contempt for military service. They offer a number of explanations. Some of his cynicism is rooted in frustration, they say. Trump, unlike previous presidents, tends to believe that the military, like other departments of the federal government, is beholden only to him, and not the Constitution. Many senior officers have expressed worry about Trump’s understanding of the rules governing the use of the armed forces. This issue came to a head in early June, during demonstrations in Washington, D.C., in response to police killings of Black people. James Mattis, the retired Marine general and former secretary of defense, lambasted Trump at the time for ordering law-enforcement officers to forcibly clear protesters from Lafayette Square, and for using soldiers as props: “When I joined the military, some 50 years ago, I swore an oath to support and defend the Constitution,” Mattis wrote. “Never did I dream that troops taking that same oath would be ordered under any circumstance to violate the Constitutional rights of their fellow citizens—much less to provide a bizarre photo op for the elected commander-in-chief, with military leadership standing alongside.”

https://www.theatlantic.com/politics/archive/2020/09/trump-americans-who-died-at-war-are-losers-and-suckers/615997/

[tessisawriter]

Article: “The conflicted passions of Islanders fans of color and changes they want to see”

Under the cut, I have reposted in full an article written by Arthur Staple & published August 28, 2020 on the Athletic (a subscription-only site) b/c I feel everyone should be able to read it. Finally, someone is writing about racism on Long Island and within the Islanders fanbase; it’s been a major problem from the moment the team was founded. Imagine not feeling comfortable going to a hockey game. That’s what Black and POC Islanders fans experience all the time, and it cannot continue. The Islanders’ owners, Scott Malkin and John Ledecky, have to do better. 

Here’s the link to the article; everything under the cut is from that article and was written by Arthur Staple. 

Jason Faustino is not a household name to Islanders fans, but many of them wear his sneakers. The co-founder of Extra Butter, a trendy sneaker label, Faustino was a longtime Islanders season-ticket holder who custom-designed Isles-themed kicks through the team and Reebok several years ago. He counts a few players as customers and friends.

He’s also a Filipino-American hockey fan who all too often has felt alienated from the team he loves. Those experiences have ranged from being one of a bare handful of fans of color at games or, more recently, dismayed at the team’s tepid statement in the wake of George Floyd’s killing by a Minneapolis policeman on May 25 and the subsequent protests worldwide.

Faustino has been watching the Islanders’ successful playoff run in the fan-less Toronto bubble and has enjoyed the escape the games provide for him. He was encouraged that Islanders players decided to join the rest of the NHL in sitting out games Thursday and Friday to support the league’s players of color in the wake of Jacob Blake’s shooting by a Kenosha, Wis., police officer on Sunday.

But the online discussions resulting from the NHL players’ decision not to play for two days, combined with the team statement from June 1, have left Faustino wondering where he fits in as an Islander fan. And he’s not alone.

“I can’t help but look back and see that they pandered to a fan base that’s largely ignorant,” Faustino said. “You don’t want to take away from supporting the team, but sorry that it might make those fans uncomfortable to read or see the words ‘Black Lives Matter.’ What that statement (in June) confirmed to me is the team just might not be aware at all and just does not understand how the perception is different for players and people of color, not understanding what it feels like for them.”

In June, after the Islanders’ social media account posted the team’s statement — which, by all accounts, was approved by principal owner Scott Malkin — several fans reached out to The Athletic via email or direct message on Twitter to express their disappointment with the organization. We spoke with three fans, who are used to being one of very few Black or Brown faces in the crowd at the Coliseum or Barclays Center, about how the statement made them feel about their team. In follow-up conversations, we asked them whether having games back this month has changed their views.

None of the Islanders fans we spoke with had ever experienced racism at Isles games, but they said they felt and still feel distanced from the team due to the lack of outreach and sensitivity to the experience of people of color who love hockey. The Athletic reached out to Islanders ownership through a team spokesman in June and did not hear back.

‘I think the Islanders are good for Islander fans, not Long Island’

Desmond Zantua grew up in Floral Park, in the shadow of what will soon be the Islanders’ new home. He started going to Islander games as a teenager in 1997 and quickly noticed he could count, usually on one hand, the number of people of color in the Coliseum around him. “And it was easy to count since there weren’t many people there in the late ’90s,” he said.

Zantua, a Filipino American, has been active since Floyd’s death, going to protests in New York City and on Long Island and posting strong messages on Twitter. He feels the Islanders’ statement in June catered to a part of the fan base that is also vocal online, the part that counters Black Lives Matter with All Lives Matter, among other sentiments in the face of police brutality and misconduct.

What he wants to see from his team is more diversity in the organization, more outreach to minority communities on Long Island and more care taken to grow the game in a very diverse area.

“(The June 1 statement) confirmed to me that whether it’s business considerations or cultural considerations, everything is centered in suburban Whiteness,” Zantua said. “Being a fan of this team … the Islanders have played in predominantly Black neighborhoods and yet the crowd is predominantly White. Seeing a statement like that says that people like me don’t count.

“I’ve been going to games since 1997. I know most of the people there, I’m lucky if I see double-digit non-White people at the games. That should not change your ability to speak up against racism. It says to me those are the fans you want to keep, and what does it say about me if I continue to give money to an organization that feels this way?”

Since hockey and the Islanders have returned, Zantua has returned, too. He said it’s easier to watch and support the team when no fans are allowed because he doesn’t have to decide whether to attend or not. But the Blake shooting and how it forced the NHL and its players into confronting the world outside the playoff bubbles still makes him question his support.

“It’s been difficult. It’s still impossible to ignore what a White-privilege sport hockey is,” Zantua said. He hopes the Islanders get more involved with the minority communities around UBS Arena and grow the game on the Island in a new way once fans are allowed into the building.

“The kids in Garden City and Long Beach don’t need help discovering the game,” Zantua said. “Elmont is right there, Valley Stream is right there. … The Islanders talk about how good they are in the community. I think they’re good for Islander fans, not Long Island as a whole.”

‘You’re not making people feel welcome’

Ian Macks grew up in the Bronx and, even though he moved to Albany as a teen, still has a passion for the Islanders. It waned when the fan base never fully embraced the Barclays Center experience starting in 2015, and the June statement further pushed the 26-year-old Black poet away.

“There were obviously issues with them playing in Brooklyn, but it sort of felt to me that they never really tried to make it work,” Macks said. “I thought it was such a great opportunity to get new fans, fans that look more like me from Brooklyn and Queens and the Bronx, into games and into the Islanders. But they went straight back to the Coliseum when they could. … The aversion to Brooklyn just seemed to come from a place of, ‘We know where our comfort zone is and we’re going right back there.'”

When we talked to Macks in mid-June, there was no hockey. He was wearing his No. 66 Josh Ho-Sang jersey, but wasn’t optimistic about going to Islanders games on the Island in the future.

“I went to an Islanders game in Philly this season and it was the most at home I’ve felt at one of their games,” Macks said. “It shouldn’t have to be that way. The statement says to me they care more about a certain type of fan than the people who are being counter-protested right in your backyard. You’re not making people feel welcome. And this is an organization that’s had a real problem keeping fans from all their mistakes over the years.”

‘It’s not the kind of fan I want to be’

Faustino is a Melville, N.Y., native who lives in Boston now and works for Saucony, a major sneaker brand. After a decade of helping build Extra Butter and doing things his own way, he’s come to understand that living life in the corporate world means not always having your personal views validated. So, while he was extremely bothered by the Islanders’ June statement, he said he knows plenty of people within the organization who were hurt by what the team put out.

“In the sneaker industry, it was a similar moment (three months ago) — there were brands that got it right and ones that didn’t,” Faustino said. “It was disappointing the Islanders got it wrong.”

He’s been watching the playoffs and enjoying the team’s success so far. The problem with being so removed from games, he said, is that you’re sucked into the online world of fandom, which is not a welcoming place for Islander fans of color. After the Islanders put out their statement Thursday in support of the players’ decision not to play, tweets from mostly anonymous fans followed vowing never to support the team or the league again for caving to what they saw as left-wing pressure.

“I saw statements of people that won’t support the team going forward. Would this impact me wanting to go to games if I were a season-ticket holder and the games had fans? I don’t know,” Faustino said. “And if there’s a Stanley Cup parade, do I even want to walk with these people? It’s hard to have my own bubble of 10-12 fans that I care about and ignore the rest.

“Seeing the games come back and seeing the Isles win a couple rounds, it’s a relief, really. I think it is for a lot of fans to get away from the realities of 2020. And I’m sure it’s not just Islander fans on Twitter reacting to the games being postponed this way. But seeing some of those reactions and thinking back to how the team kind of catered to that group three months ago, it makes me want to remove myself from the team and the game I love. And that’s not the kind of fan I want to be.”

[semi-imaginary-place]

gamers have no rights

SEIZE THE MEANS OF PRODUCTION

Oh and Minato actually using crude (like he always speaks very politely)  speech for the last big shot was a good moment. i rather like minato  and you can  see how dear kaburagi is to him. Minato gets Kaburagi put on mod duty instead of being destroyed or sentenced to life at the waste facility. Minato then stops Kaburagi from getting destroyed a second time and even keeps his avatar which would have gotten him killed. and he does all this without Kaburagi asking him, without Kaburagi ever knowing. Minato in the finale then risks annihilation to see kaburagi in the finale and is willing to gamble his life by staying in deca-dence to execute the plan. if he hadn’t helped, kaburagi would almost certainly be destroyed by the bubble wipe. Minato just wants to be near Kaburagi and be a part of his life. me in the distance: “gaaayyyyyyyyyyyyy”

when the admins threw donatello into the poop jail, did no one think to take the arm gun?

Yuzuru Tachikawa  has a lot of good stuff. death parade, mob psycho 100 II, assistant director for zankyo no terror.

once a limiter is released, can you put it back on?

http://decadence-anime.com/en/ incase the website ever goes down and i have to use the wayback machine

5.5: ok so i did forget the part where they say that Solid Quake and the other mega corps manufacture the cyborgs. ah and the cyborgs are also property of Solid Quake. real last stage capitalist dystopia. and some cyborgs’ job is to play the mmo. Like the company mandates download of the game upon cyborg activation. yeah if solid quake has the resources to manage a population of squishy monsters and have absolute control of all matter in the bubble they totally could have dealt with the air pollution on the rest of the planet. There’s also at least 4 other structures/companies on the planet. I wonder what they are up to. i was wondering about the ruins, so they were made as set pieces/background art for the post apocalyptic story.

so cyborgs did originally have their roots in biological humans. but currently and all the ones we see are assembled by Solid Quake. I wonder about the cyborg cores, they have the same green glow as oxyone. And one of the characters (minato? kaburagi?) says that cores aren’t controlled by Solid Quake, so the cyborgs have free will.

So I doubt minato ever switched departments though I guess its possible, meaning when he says he wants to fight along side kaburagi again he means this metaphorically, he wants to be able to once against work towards the same goal as kaburagi side by side. Also Minato calls Kaburagi “Kabu” no honorifics or anything and the subtitles bastardize this into just “Kaburagi”

they ended up making a game that involves throwing around a cyborg core. isn’t that a little...

Though everyone helped out a little, the finale was all about helping kaburagi where as I would have preferred something like everyone working and changing the system rather than kaburagi having a chat and the deca dence system letting him do what he wants. but I suppose that’s a hook for season 2. So seen on its own deca-dence has a good solid ending but not a spectacular one. But I am so glad it has a good ending, you don’t know how many shows have gotten my hopes up in the first couple episodes only to fizzle out and flop. I am so happy this show stuck the landing even if there was a little wobble.

I watched all of Deca-Dence in one sitting and wow do I love this show. It's just a good solid show. There's no weak point, each episode is solid, the writing is good, the animation is striking, and most importantly the show holds itself together throughout its entire run.

funny thing is. When I first saw the promo material for this anime back in spring of 2020 i went like ”ugggg not another one of these” where the remnants of humanity fight against annihilation at the hands of some monsters like shingeki no kyoujin or kabaneri of the iron fortress mostly because I’m been thinking a lot on compassion for the Other and a lack of that combined with propaganda about how the Other is a threat to the existence of the in-group forms the basis of a lot of modern facism and white supremacy groups that justify their existence against an imaginary threat use this same kind of logic framing themselves as the last bastions of humanity (whiteness) against a monstrous other (muslims, immigrants, ethnic minorities, usually people of color/not white people). Now the premises of humanity fighting against annihilation by monsters in of itself isn’t necessarily racist, but after a year where violent racism exploded against asian americans and BLM had a lot of attention, my mind can’t help but be in that space. However by the time I watched Deca-Dence on January 25, 2021 I had completely forgotten everything and anything about the show. All I remembered was some people crying about it on tumblr and twitter whose posts I skipped over once I realized they were about a show I hadn’t seen. So I went into this with a completely blank slate, I didn’t know that this was scifi, or that there was a giant fortress city, I didn’t know that Kaburagi was featured in the promos alongside Natsume, and I didn’t know we would be fighting monsters. But the first episode was just so well directed that I was excited for a second one despite the premises, and also i was still processing that last shot when i clicked the next episode button. It was the second episode that sold this show for me.

Oh I totally forgot to talk about natsume’s arm and how the show handle’s disability. Also I don’t have a prosthetic so take this with a gain of salt. Natsume occasionally feels self conscious about her prosthetic arm since people will comment on it and it adds barriers in her life, disqualifying her from joining The Power and making it more difficult to adjust the nozzle on her pack. She has added struggles in her life that others don’t, but the show never portrays her as lesser for it, its just something she has to consider and work around in her life. The line about how its not her weakness, but her power was a good line. And she literally turned it into a weapon, that’s so cool.

Corporations generate capital for the enrichment of their shareholders. But in the world of deca-dence there are no shareholders at the end of the pipeline. The machinery of the capitalist firm continues to spin, squeezing out as much cheap or free labor as possible, and acquiring assets, but for nothing and no one. Its a system made to benefit the Few, but whose beneficiaries no longer exist (or at least we never see them in the anime). The exploitation of the Tankers and cyborgs serve no purpose but to continue the existence of Solid Quake and its system.

dissonance grieving tankers at funeral to cyborgs chatting about how fun the last raid event was. bright cartoony artstyle to the dystopia of neoliberal capitalism (and the labor camp). the cheery game trailer and company intro style exposition for the apocalypse.

The reason the ending was only good instead of spectacular is because it doesn’t engage with the themes laid down in earlier episodes enough. The ending provides an emotionally fulfilling ending for its characters but only a lukewarm one for late-stage capitalism. There’s two narratives going on in Deca-Dence. The personal narrative told through Natsume and Kaburagi about learning to try again, improve yourself, make your own decisions, live on your own terms, and push your limits. Then there’s the secondary narrative about overcoming structures and systems of oppression. The anime team did a great job at the first one, but kinda meh about the second one. When we are introduced to the people of Deca-Dence we see them stratified into classes like Gear/cyborg and Tanker. However this is a false narrative perpetuated by Solid Quake to maintain its control of both groups, after all Solid Quake owns both the cyborgs and the Tankers as literal property. Ideally the Tankers and cyborgs would realize the divide between them is false and team up to tear down not only Solid Quake but the systems that allowed mega corps to exist in the first place and build more equitable and just social systems. And we do get some of this in the ending with changes in how Solid Quake is run (no more punishment of “bugs”, got rid of the gulag), but all this is shoved to the background. Essentially management and company policy changed but the fact that the corporation or its structures exists, didn’t. I can't tell if its deliberate or not though. Its common with single cour anime to leave dangling plot threads as a bid to the funding for a second season and most of them never do. So I can see it like that, but eh I still never liked this approach. Its also a limitation of the single cour instead of being produced as a 24 ep anime where they would have had lime to develop that second narrative.