#it took... 15... hours.... GUH

[solplease]

hi. i saw him and went crazy

[raspberry-starship]

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Sam stood in the doorway to bunk 15 with Cas, Sadie peering over the angel’s shoulder to look in, too. Gabriel was huddled in a corner, rocking back and forth slightly with his arms around his knees. He was still covered in blood and wearing his filthy clothes and he wasn’t speaking. All over the walls, Gabriel had written his story in Enochian, which Cas had translated for Sam and Sadie—it involved the faking of his death, finding his independence finally, moving to Monte Carlo, and spending a lot of time with porn stars. Sadie was unsure how she felt about this archangel.

Gabriel didn’t look any of them in the eyes. Cas tried to jog Gabriel’s mind into working correctly and Sam tried to give him back some of the grace Asmodeus had taken out of him, but both endeavors were met with fervent denial. Suffice to say, after his spat with Dean and now this, Sam was feeling rather frustrated.

Meanwhile, Dean was walking funny. An hour or so earlier, he’d been shot by some stranger in the woods who’d been trying to take him to the angels to be a slave. Ketch had helped save him and then they’d gotten directions to where Dean assumed Jo would be. They were on their way there now—someplace the man had called “the Silo”. Dean was of the idea that the people who were being taken as prisoners might have some knowledge about where to look for his mom and Jack. He also wanted to right something that had haunted him for a long time—or at least come as close to doing so as he could.

Ketch had lifted all the weaponry off of the coyote, including a belt of angel-killing bullets—both the caliber for Dean’s handgun and Ketch’s semi-automatic.

“Are you sure this is the best plan?” Ketch asked again, following Dean as they walked parallel to the road they’d been pointed to.

“We need information, right?” Dean winced, his wound aching, “So, I figure—”

Unable to finish his sentence, he collapsed against a nearby tree. Ketch’s eyes widened and he rushed over to help.

“Dean?” He asked, forcing Dean upright against the tree. Out of curiosity he touched Dean’s forehead and grimaced. “Oh, god, you’re burning up. Let’s take a look at that wound.

“No, no, I’m fine.” Dean tried to subdue a cough, “We gotta keep moving—”

“—Do shut up, huh?” Ketch replied, moving the collar of Dean’s shirt to see the bullet wound.

It was black and purple, with dark veins of poison seeping out under the skin around it. Almost immediately, Ketch knew what he had to do. He set his pack down and began rifling through it before pulling out a small case of ingredients. He began murmuring as he prepared his concoction.

“Taro root… trace of arsenic… Basidiomycota… and—”

“—Why don’t you just skip the birdseed, give me the flask?” Dean grumbled, head lolling to the side as his neck was too weak to hold it up.

“Your shortness of breath and delirium are symptoms of a poison the Men of Letters use to disable monsters in the field.”

Dean rolled his eyes. “Of course it is.”

“My guess is that the bounty hunter used a similar toxin to coat his bullets to hobble his prey,” Ketch took a breath, “at first.”

Dean looked up in concern, still a bit out of it. “What d’you mean, ‘at first’.”

“Well, if the antidote isn’t administered, then the victim dies a particularly gruesome death.”

Dean groaned and rolled his eyes, “Guh, you guys are such dicks.”

“Yes, well…” Ketch swallowed, “guilty.”

Dean’s eyes fell closed, but he was still awake as Ketch used two rocks to crush up his antidote into a paste.

“Now then,” Ketch gathered some of the goop onto his fingers and addressed Dean, “this will smart.”

Without any more warning, he began applying the mixture to Dean’s bullet wound. Dean took a sharp breath in, grimacing as he tried to keep everything locked down.

Back in the Bunker, Sam was sitting in bunk 15’s desk chair, staring at Gabriel. He’d been talking to the archangel for twenty minutes now with no response, and he was already feeling short-tempered so this turned out to be his last straw. He didn’t know how many more times he could say that Gabriel was safe here—he’d tried so many different ways that now all he had left was:

“Gabriel, you have to dig yourself out of this hole.”

He was met with silence. At this point, Sam wondered why he kept being so surprised by it.

“Look, I know you think it’s safer inside—no more torture, no more pain, no more expectations. I’ve been there.” Sam continued, “You were nothing like your family—you sure as hell weren’t like your dad. Me either. And just like you, I got out. Or I—I thought I got out. But then… then my family needed me.”

Gabriel didn’t answer, but his expression shifted just slightly. He could hear in the library someone singing softly to themself.

“…Drying up in conversation, You will be the one who cannot talk. All your insides fall to pieces, You just sit there wishing you could still make love.”

“And this is my life.” Sam said, not noticing any change in Gabriel, “No matter how many times I tried to fight it, this is what I was put here to do. This is where I make the world a better place. And sure, yeah, sex workers in Monte Carlo sounds great, but your family needs you. Jack, your nephew, needs you. The world needs you. We need you. So, please, help us.”

“…They’re the ones who’ll hate you, When you think you’ve got the world all sussed out. They’re the ones who’ll spit at you, You will be the one screaming out…”

Gabriel was frozen for a moment, thinking about both what Sam had said and the soft singing he could hear. He hadn’t heard someone sing in years. Something about hearing her made him realize that he was actually free. He was trapped in this room but it was his choice—there was a whole world outside of him now that was all at his fingertips.

Sam let out a sigh of exasperation and got up, moving towards the door. Just as his hand was about to touch the knob, a scratchy voice spoke behind him.

“Porn stars.” It said. “They were porn stars, Sam.”

Sam’s brow furrowed in surprise and he looked over his shoulder. Gabriel offered him a cautious smirk.

“Your friend has a lovely voice.” He added softly.

“My—…?” Sam cut himself off when he realized what Gabriel must be talking about. “You… you can hear her from in here?”

“He might’ve stolen my grace but he didn’t take my damn eardrums.” Gabriel replied, voice still hoarse. He took a breath then nodded, “Alright. I’m ready now.”

* * *

Night had fallen some time ago. Dean was doing better but his wound was still aching. After an hour of walking without stopping, he could no longer stave off the collapse. He fell against a nearby tree, wincing and covering his wound. Ketch, who’d been in the lead, paused and turned back to him.

“This is absurd.” Ketch said, “You must rest.”

“Okay, look, I—I’ll give you that… anti-poison merit badge award, okay? I do appreciate it, but… we’re running out of time.” Dean nodded and forced himself away from the tree. He gave a nod and then began walking past Ketch, “How about you rest—?”

He didn’t finish that before tripping on his own feet and falling to the ground, his bag under his head.

“I’m gonna keep going.” He invited from the ground, “…In five minutes.”

“Good plan.” Ketch sighed, taking a seat across from him. “Perhaps we can use this moment to revisit this plan.”

“Not gonna happen.” Dean grumbled, forcing himself upright and leaning against a nearby tree.

“To your point, we are running out of time.” Ketch insisted, “We don’t know where your mother and Jack are. We don’t even know if we’ll find this Jo. And if we do, a rescue may be impossible and stupid. I propose we return home, regroup, reinforce ourselves, and we may have a shot at saving everyone.”

“Alright, look,” Dean shifted, wincing a little, “I know Jo, okay? She’s up to her elbows in this fight, I’m sure of it. She wasn’t bein’ captured to be a slave like that guy tried to do to me, she was bein’ led somewhere with a bag on her head, I’m guessing that means she’s someone important, here, and I know she’s not gonna give the angels what they want.”

“Your Jo wouldn’t.”

“They’re gonna kill her.” Dean said, “One-hundred percent, and I’m not…”

Ketch waited a moment then cocked his head. “What? What’s the story you’re not telling me?”

Dean sighed and glanced away, taking a moment before replying.

“Jo was family. She and her mom, they…” He swallowed, “…I got her into a situation where she got hurt. Then… then she and her mom sacrificed themselves to save us. They… they got blown up and there wasn’t a damn thing I could do about any of it.”

Ketch thought for a moment. “You feel you failed her.”

“I know I did.” Dean shook his head woefully.

Ketch nodded slowly, “That, I understand.”

Dean frowned and lifted his gaze from the ground. “Uh, hello? What about your story ‘re you not telling me?”

“Oh, I’ve had many failures.” Ketch spoke almost equivocally, but it was clearly a defense mechanism. “Friends and colleagues who have died on my watch. ‘Only difference is, I didn’t... try to save them. ‘Duty’ and all that… rubbish.”

Dean sighed, “Well, you do suck.”

Ketch smirked a little at that. “What the hell. Perhaps rescuing this Jo will wash some of the stains off my hands.”

“‘Impossible and stupid’, huh?” Dean had a hint of a smile in his eye.

“You say that like it’s a bad thing.” Ketch countered, rising to his feet and offering Dean a hand. “Come on.”

Dean looked from the hand to Ketch’s face and then set his expression. With a firm grip, he allowed Ketch to help him up onto his feet.

As he was dusting himself off, Ketch’s eye caught on something. He pointed to a round cabochon of green stone set in a gold circle.

“Is that yours?”

Dean blinked and turned, with a small sigh of exasperation, he stooped down and snatched it up, tucking it away into his pocket with a sour look on his face.

“What is it?” Ketch asked.

“None of your business, that’s what.”

As Dean began walking away again, Ketch spoke. “Is it a reminder of someone else you feel you failed?”

Dean paused, glancing up at Ketch. He swallowed thickly and faced away again. “Yeah. That one I know I failed, too.”

In the Bunker, Cas was giving the last of Gabriel’s grace back to the archangel. Sam stood in the doorway, arms crossed and shoulder leaning against the doorframe. He heard footsteps approaching from down the hall, and turned to see Sadie approaching. She was wearing a long-sleeved purple shirt over her jeans, her hair up in a messy bun. He thought idly then that he liked looking at her.

She sighed as she came to a halt beside him, arms crossing over her chest as well. “How’s it going in here?”

Sam sighed, too. “Well, we gave him some of his grace already, but we’re not sure it’s doing anything.”

“Has he said if he feels different?” She asked.

“He says he’s not sure.” Sam said, shifting his weight a little.

There was a pause in which they just stood there, observing Cas and Gabriel talking softly to one another. Slowly, Sam’s eyes flickered over to peer at her through their corners. She stared straight ahead, gaze a bit distant as she pondered something.

“How are you, Sadie?” He asked, his voice at a murmur.

She blinked and looked up at him. “I’m fine, Spaceman. How are you?”

He shrugged a shoulder, “Fine, I guess.”

“You guess?” She prompted.

“Yeah.” He glanced down at her, “What’s that supposed to mean?”

It was her turn to shrug now. He was about to prompt her further when his phone began buzzing in his pocket. He fumbled for a moment, then pulled it out. It was an unknown number. He looked up from the screen to Sadie, who’d been looking at it quizzically, too. She met his gaze and then watched as he picked up.

“Uh, hello?”

“Samuel!” A jolly-sounding southern man spoke through the speaker.

In the room, Gabriel stiffened, scooting back on the bed instinctively.

“I believe you have somethin’ of mine in your possession.”

[shypitaya]

Inseparable - Chapter 15

Tags: Broppy, Slow Burn Fluff, Not rated, Trolls Mythology Au

Ao3 is here

Notes: Umm... Feel free to leave a like or a comment? xD I noticed I have many readers, but I barely got any feedback from you. Even if you don’t like it (but still read it somehow), feel free even to openly hate me xD

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- Yeah, you were right - Branch admits with a gentle smile. - That was fun.

They're leaving the little village they've just visited to check if everyone sleeps well. But Guy Diamond already was there and powdered some glitter on trolls' eyelids. The townsfolk have sweet dreams for sure.

- Chaos can be so surprising sometimes - Poppy chuckles, thinking about the last Night. - Who would expect the group of Party Goddesses?

- "Silver Party Goddesses" you wanted to say - He shakes his head with amused disbelief. - What were their names, again?

- Wani, Ari, Baby Bun - Poppy starts counting with her fingers. - Kim-Petit and... Gonbori?

- Gomdori - He corrects her. 

- Yeah

- I'm glad they came at the end of the party - He confesses. - I mean, that was fun, but I don't want to party every Night.

- Me neither, to be honest - She smiles at the stars up her head. - I really took to the calm sounds of the Night.

Branch smiles warmly, glancing at her. Their eyes meet and she adds:

- But we'll come to parties sometimes, right?

- Of course! - He beams.

- You were wild on the dance floor! 

The god explodes with a laugh.

- I was dancing just like you!

- You humble dork! You are a really great dancer! And oh my goodness, you sing so well... I mean, your voice was always so warm and calming, but when you sing, guh, you do such amazing things with your voice!

Branch blushes, feeling a bit shy. He starts rubbing his neck awkwardly.

- Well, thank you - He murmurs quietly. - I always thought that your voice is... Well, angelic. Sound, soft, melody. I just had your beautiful voice to harmonize with at the party, that's all I can say.

He corrects his cape near his neck and finally looks into her eyes. Her cheeks are magically charming with a rose blush decorated by her sparkling freckles.

- Aww - She smiles tenderly at him. He looks away with an awkward smile.

- And now we're all red and shy - He chuckles shyly.

- Yeah, now we're all red - The pink goddess grins.

- There has to be some medicines for that or something - He rubs his face. - It's ridiculous to turn all shy every time we complement each other. No one reacts like that!

- I don't know - She smiles at him sweetly and grabs his arm. - I like it this way. We are dorkly original.

He gazes into her joyful eyes, being so close now. His cheeks get warmer, of course. Her wide smile forces him to smile back. A deep, glad sigh escapes from his lungs.

- You are so adorable - He says warmly.

- And you are so handsome - She whispers playfully.

Branch giggles. 

They walk like that for a while. The long sandy road guides them in the dark,coniferous forest. One of the stops on their way. The god of the Night has to check here if critters are in their homes, caves, minks, hollows, and nests. He always needs to find every lost one and helps them. Being in a safe and warm place during the Night is really important. So the moment they arrive at the woods, they split up, walking around and making sure if every critter is in their place. It's Branch's job of course, but they started sharing their responsibilities more and more during the last months, doing almost everything together. It has one, really attractive advantage - they do their jobs much quicker, so they have much more time to waste with each other.

Therefore, Poppy's part is to find lost ones in the woods when Branch is tending sleeping animals. She walks around the whole forest, but luckily this area is empty. No one got lost here. She comes back to the god, finding him near to a little hollow in the big pine tree. 

- No one gets lost or hurt here? - The god guesses, when she stands by his side.

- No - She tilts her head aside with curiosity. - Is that a squirrel hollow? Can I take a look?

- Sure - He makes space for her and invites her with a hand gesture. She stands on her toes to peek in the hollow.

The squirrels are sleeping peacefully, gathered in one place. The biggest one is surrounding its offsprings with a long, fluffy, deep orange tail. Little squirrel's children are squatting, hiding their noses in their parent's belly. 

- What are they doing? - Poppy asks.

- They're sharing warmth - She hears Branch's answers behind her. - I like to call it "hug". Or "cuddle". They are lying really close to each other and keep the warmth between them. All animals do that during the Night.

- Why? - She frowns.

- Why?? - He sounds really surprised. - It's really cold during the Night! Don't you notice that? They can freeze if they are not with their close ones.

Poppy is still staring at the little squirrel balls. Their tiny, orange muzzles show comfort and serene peace. They all look safe and happy. She can't take her eyes off them, they are so adorable.

- Why is the Night so cold? - She asks another innocent question with the purest curiosity in her voice.

- How is it possible you don't know that? - His voice is a bit impatient now. - The Night is cold because I am cold. 

The goddess finally turns to him. She blinks, tilting her head like a surprised puppy.

- But why? Why are you cold?

Branch heaves a sigh, slouching a bit.

- I just am - He looks aside. He sounds a bit disappointed in himself. - I always was. 

- You feel it? Do you feel cold? - She peers worryingly at his face. - I mean, are you freezing? It has to be unpleasant...

He shrugs his shoulders blankly.

- Yeah, but I got used to it.

She steps close to him. She's always warm, even during the Night, so she just didn't realize what Branch can feel. How horrible is to always be so cold and not be able to do something with it? She remembers his touch, she knows how cold he is. And she knows, he doesn't like to be cold at all. Her every touch makes him calm, blessed... He desires warmth so much.

- So that's why you always wear your cape? - She asks.

Now the god chuckles at her innocent question.

- It's funny that you noticed those only now. I thought it was so obvious for y...

Branch stops with his eyes wide open. It hits him sharply. The soft warmth, the scent of the wildflowers, shiver on his back... He loses his breath. Her little arms embrace him around, place on his back, little warm hands on his back, under his cape, her heated soft beating chest on his chest, fast strongly beating heart, her chin on his cold shoulder, and her cheek pressing gently into his...

- What are you doing - He blows weakly. His arms, wide open, get lost, and freeze lifted in the air.

- I share my warmth with you - He hears her sweet shaking whisper right in his ear. - I'm hugging you. What is it like?

He blinks. He still tries to get his lost senses together. Poppy is... Poppy is everywhere. So close. Her warmth hits him from every possible direction. His whole body desperately absorbs it like a thirsty animal in the desert. Her soft warm touch... It makes him melt and shiver, it makes him burn and calm down, it fills him like empty vas, it fills him with unknown feelings, it makes him forget about the whole world, about himself, about everything. All he knows now is the warm arms of the pink goddess around him and her sweet scent in his nose...

His breath gets calm and deep. He carefully puts his free hand on her back. She's so little, so fragile, his fingers cover almost the whole of her back. Her skin is so delightful to touch, soft like silk. Oh, her supple body clings to his, surrounds him. The sweet, fragrant cage, the exitless trap of her arms... He closes his eyes, sinking into an infinity abyss of bliss.

- It... - He tries to answer her question from the last minutes, but his mind is still dizzy with feelings. His whispering voice turns husky and low. - It's... Let's just say... Please, never let go of me...

Poppy chuckles softly into his ear, making him quiver again. She nestles up to him even tighter, and he starts wondering how it's even possible to be even closer, to touch even more, to feel even deeper... Their hearts beat like one, their chests breath in a common rhythm. They freeze like that, in the middle of the warmest moment in their life.

Branch sighs blissfully. He corrects his grasp on the Staff. Now the hand on it is the only quite cold part of him. He wishes he had both hands free. He wishes he could just leave the Staff somewhere for a while... He wishes he could embrace Poppy with both of his arms, trapping her in him, and never let go if she doesn't refuse. Oh, is there any limit of intimacy? 

His nose gets stuck in her silken strawberry pink hair and he breathes in her warm scent. Oh, how amazing she is, she’s a huge mysterious world he can explore endlessly. An ocean without the bottom, he can dive in and never come back, swimming down deeper and deeper and never looking back. He can't ever get enough and equally he always has much more than he could even wish, than he could ever dream or imagine. His nose gets deeper in the sea of her beautiful hair till it touches her warm neck. It makes her skin shiver, it forces a sudden pleasant sigh of her. Branch smiles. So she likes to be touched here.... But he doesn't move anymore. Even if he wants to, he feels his body weak and strong, burning and melting, his heart can explode if he moves even the slightest step closer. He stays where he is, and he doesn't need more in his entire life. Just to be. To be a man in Poppy's arms. 

Neither of them knows how long they are cuddling. Maybe an hour, maybe a half. But also neither wants to push others away. They cling to each other, feeling so safe. They're in hog heaven. Calm, but also burning. They're all heated. Much warmer than Poppy was at the beginning. Sharing the warmth makes them both warmer somehow...

The goddess heaves another deep, content sigh. Her hand gently strokes his back under his cape.

- We should finish - She murmurs into his shoulder.

Branch purrs lingeringly as if he misses her at the very thought of letting her go. He fondles her neck gently with his nose, snuggling his face. Her hands on his back grab his shirt and clench into it.

- Branch... - She breathes out shakingly, during another deep sigh. She puts her chin on his shoulder to be more hearable. - Really... I really enjoy this... But your responsibilities... We need to stop...

He chuckles softly into her ear.

- It's you who is hugging me, sweetheart... - He whispers warmly, with a tender smile she can't see.

Poppy heaves a sigh one last time. She slowly, unwillingly leaves his arms. She steps back and immediately loses her balance. The god grabs her arm, stopping her from falling. She staggers a bit until she stands on her leg. She puts her hands on her face and then sinks her fingers into her hair.

- I'm so dizzy - She mumbles, squinting.

- So am I - He chuckles dorkly, staggering and then lying down with the Staff.

- What are you doing? - The goddess giggles, getting on her knees next to him.

- I'm drunk - He confesses, gazing adoringly into her eyes with such a wide smile. - Drunk with you.

She rubs her cheeks, smiling at him.

- You are so cute and handsome... - She whispers purringly.

- And you are so stunningly beautiful and adorable... - He replies with a low, husky voice.

They gaze at each other tenderly, until Poppy chuckles sweetly.

- Look, we don't turn red! - She points out, giggling.

Branch laughs heartily, closing his eyes. For the first time in his life, the ground under him is colder than him. He's warm. He's really warm. He laughs with happiness inside him. He's so purely happy.

Then, the sudden sound of clearing someone's throat interrupts their laughs. They both look up at the orange god who appears in front of them out of nowhere.

- Can I ask you what are you doing? - Gust frowns at them with puzzlement.

- We're nuts - Branch giggles. - There are so many weird things about us. You don't want to know. Just keep walking.

- Branch! - Poppy laughs, covering her eyes with her hand with amusement.

- Actually, I'd like to know - The god of the Order looks at them calmly. - King Peppy sent me to you to ask why the Night became warm.

Indeedly, the world around, even if still covered by the blanket of Darkness, feels warm. Not as warm as during the Day, but not cold at all. It is really nice temperature, the grasshoppers sing happily on the nearby meadow.

- It's her fault - The blue god points at the pink goddess next to him. She shrugs her shoulders, grinning.

- Well, how to say it - She chuckles. - I shared my warmth with Branch.

- She's amazing.

- I know, I know. And now we're both kinda drunk.

- We didn't drink. We were just hugging.

- Basically, we have no idea how we work.

- We work amazingly for me - He smiles at her dreamily as if Gust isn’t there.

Poppy giggles. She points at Branch, turning to the god of the Order.

- See? Just look at him, isn't that the most charming and taking smile in the world?

The blue god sits up.

- Disagree! Your smile is the most adorable, breath-taking and mesmerizing miracle that could happen on the Earth.

- Ok, stop - Gust chuckles awkwardly, lifting open hands with the peace-offering gesture. - This... I don't know what's happening with you two, but you seem to have some sort of fun, so I'm going to tell King Peppy that everything is great.

- Yeah, It is great - Poppy smiles dreamily.

- Super great - Branch adds, lying down again.

- One thing - The god of the Order says with a bit firmer tone. - The Staff. The Gold Sphere should not lie on the ground.

The god of the Night turns his head to the side and glances at the Staff in his hand. He drops his dorky smile and blinks. Reminding him about his responsibilities sets him up. He stands up straight, brushing his clothes down with one hand. He corrects his grip on the Staff, dusting the Gold Sphere off a bit. It is so fragile, so fragile that a slight hit can crack it. He should never forget to care about It. He clears his throat shyly, seeing Poppy standing up next to him out of the corner of his eye.

- Sorry - He says, looking down a bit ashamed. 

- It's okay - Gust smiles at them comfortingly. - Just be more careful about It. 

Branch nods with a serious face.

- Farewell - The orange god says and disappears, just like Immortals like to do.

- Well, that was embarrassing - Poppy announces, turning to her company. She frowns with surprise. - And what are you doing now?

Branch is unclenching his cape, trying to take it off with one hand.

- I feel warm, I don't need this anymore - He throws the cape on her shoulders.

- Hey, I don't need it either!

- But  you want it - He smirks at her, trying to lay the cape on her with only one hand.

- Branch! - She giggles, grabbing the edges of the fabric. - It's huge!

- Let me see you in it - He steps back and views her slowly. Poppy giggles and puts the hoodie on her head. She rubs the fabric across her cheek and smells it.

- Okay, agree, I want it - She admits. - It smells like you.

- And how do I smell? - He chuckles.

The goddess looks aside, smiling shyly.

- Like the woods, trees, leaves. Like safeness and care.

Branch smiles warmly at her.

- Well, you look pretty safe in this - He puts the top edge of the hoodie on her eyes. She puffs, amused. - Come come, we have res pon si bi li ties

Poppy lifts the hoodie, looking up at him with a smirk.

- I really like your mood now - She says genuinely.

He grins in the way she usually grins at him, making her smile even wider.

****

- The Night is almost over - Poppy announces, unclenching the silver buckle under her chin. - Maybe you want your cape back?

- No, not really.... - Branch starts, but the goddess is already getting the cape right on his shoulders. - Oh, okay. You don't like it though?

- No, it's really comfy, especially when I hide in it whole - She smiles, clenching the buckle on Branch's neck. - It just can bother me during the Day.

She brushes the cape on his arms to get it right. She meets his adoring eyes and caresses affectionately the corner of his smiling lips with her hand.

- Grab the Staff - He orders quietly.

She frowns.

- It's not the time.

He squints at her with discontent.

- It's just a few minutes - He argues. - Can't you start the Day a bit earlier?

- For what?

He looks up, smiling dorkly.

- What is it? - Poppy chuckles. - Can't it wait a few minutes?

- Can't you grab the Staff earlier?

- Tell me what you want! - She beams at him.

- I want you to take the Staff from me - Branch smiles mysteriously.

Poppy is gazing at him with puzzlement. She hesitates for a while. Her curiosity fights with her head. A few minutes aren't a big deal, right? She carefully grabs the Staff, the sky gets lighter and beams with the colors of the dawn, and almost at the very same moment Branch embraces her suddenly. His arms cover her whole. She loses her breath.

- You waited to hug me with both your hands? - The goddess breathes out, giggling. He purrs "uh-huh'' into her shoulder, which wakes up pleasant butterflies in her stomach.

Poppy closes her eyes. His big hands drape her whole back, she sinks into him, in his warmth, in his care and safeness. She cuddles tight, letting him hide her into his arms, conceal her from the whole world around. She breathes his warm heavy scent. Now she notices why he was so desperate to hug her with both arms. The Staff in her hand doesn't let her fully snuggle with him, it stops her from diving deeper, she has to keep the Staff as far from Branch as it's possible, cause he can't touch it during the Day.

But even with the Staff in her hand, she's in their small, pure, warm heaven. His fingers sink tenderly into her hair, forcing her to sigh. Oh, may this moment last forever...

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Index

[sylvesterlestermanchester]

Love is the Fulfilling of the Law

Summary: Dan’s happy in his relationship with Phil. If only everything else could start to fall into place, that’d be great.

Word Count: 5,700

Genre: Humor, fluff, angst. Isn’t that life?

Warnings: Swearing, mentions of homophobia, allusions to conversion therapy.

A/N: This won’t make much sense unless you read the first fic in the Fearfully and Wonderfully verse, Fearfully and Wonderfully! (I was really creative with that title huh.) Also, ty for all the love on the past two fics! I don’t have much free time to write these, so I appreciate a few people actually saw it lol.

Dear God. 

Hey, God, it’s me.

Our father, who art in heaven...

Wait, am I supposed to pray to God? Or Jesus?

Dan let out a quiet groan, burying his face in his hands. It was way too early in the morning to be thinking, let alone trying to connect with a higher power. 

Why couldn’t Dan pray like Phil did?

Yeah, Dan could’ve asked his boyfriend for help with this. His boyfriend, literally the most religious person Dan had ever met. His boyfriend, who had plans for seminary. His boyfriend, who...his boyfriend…

A sleepy grin spread across his face as he pushed all other thoughts out of his mind and snuggled up closer in his boyfriend’s arms, their bodies squeezed together on the tiny twin mattress that barely fit just one of their lanky bodies. In the month that they had been dating since coming back from the retreat, Dan still wasn't tired of calling Phil his boyfriend-when nobody was around, of course.

“Boyfriend…” Dan sang quietly as he moved to play with Phil’s shaggy hair, biting back a laugh as he received a quiet snore in response. “Oi, boyfriend.”

“Shush your hush.” He hears back after a moment, voice low and tired, but still fond. “Shush your hush?”

“Mmm.” “Wow, quite eloquent. Shush your hush. I’ll write it down for later, so you can-”

“Shush!” Phil suddenly rolled on top of Dan, pressing a sloppy, wet kiss to his cheek.

“Wha-Phil, guh-ross!”

“It’s what you get.” Phil laughed, nuzzling his nose into Dan’s hair.

The sleepy cuddles only last a bit longer before they force themselves out of bed, getting ready for class. It’s only when Dan tugs on a new shirt and catches a glimpse of Phil kneeling beside the bed and looking up at the ceiling that he remembers why he woke up early to pray-or at least try to. 

Phil looks...peaceful. Transcended, almost, from their cozy but cluttered dorm room. Part of Dan winces for his knees, but part of Dan is jealous. This is something so deep, so meaningful to him, and it’s something Dan feels this need to share with him. 

How could he be with Phil if he can’t even share the most important thing in his life with him? He’s pulled out of his thoughts this time by Phil’s soft giggle. “Are you watching me?” He asks softly, pushing himself to his feet and moving over to wrap his arms around Dan’s waist. 

“W-What? No. Just zoned out. I need coffee.” He whined, running a hand through Phil’s hair and pushing it back lightly.

“You were creeping on me, creeper.” Phil giggled and tickled Dan’s side lightly, watching as he squirmed.

Before Dan can argue back, Phil leans closer and presses a lazy kiss to his lips. One month in, his knees still weaken as he feels his boyfriend’s soft lips on his. 

“C’mon, we should get going.” “We could just kiss the day away.” Dan murmurs. “We could. But I could also buy you coffee and we can try to focus on these midterms you guys keep warning me about.” Dan grumbled and pressed a quick peck to his lips before pulling away reluctantly. He was dreading the mid-semester exams that were coming up just a couple weeks from now, and he knew Phil wouldn’t be prepared at all, considering he hadn’t even known they were a thing until last week. 

Once they gather their things and share a final kiss (okay, three) they both pull away, Phil smoothing his shirt down and Dan fixing his hair before they step out into the hall.

Phil trails behind-close, but not too close. Far enough away that they look like just roommates. Close enough that it keeps Dan from reaching back and tugging him into his arms, just wanting to envelop himself in Phil.

It’s when they’re walking that Dan sees the glint of the silver cross necklace bouncing against Phil’s chest, and his eyes trail from that up to the clouds in the sky, finally getting as close to a prayer as he figures he’s going to get.

Hey, God. Speak to me, yeah? If for nobody else, for Phil. 

-

“Okay, I’ve done the math-we can do this! With a week left before everyone’s first exam, we just need to keep up the studying, and-and maybe sleep, like, three hours less a night each.” Phil rambled, hands shaking from the abundance of caffeine rushing through his veins. He looks up from his calculator before looking at Louise and Dan across the booth, a nervous smile on his face as he tries desperately to cheer up his sullen friends. “Y’know, three hours isn’t even that much, especially if we work really hard and study non-stop. These tests should be easy then, right?” PJ chuckled dryly, rubbing his temples slowly. “You sound insane. You really never had to take tests in your little homeschool world up North?” He asked, pawing through the mountain of books in front of them. The fun “study session” that Phil had suggested had devolved into madness once the sugary coffee drinks had gone through their system, and Phil was desperately trying to scrape it back together.. “Well, not really. Once a year, we did this one just to prove we were actually learning. And then I took that weird G-C-E test or whatever, but I didn’t even take that seriously, because I barely knew what it was. But I must’ve done okay, because I ended up here, right?”

Louise stared at him before groaning. “Only you could half-ass the GCSEs and manage to score high enough to get a fucking huge scholarship.” Louise rolled her eyes playfully as she reached out and ruffled his hair. “The rest of us are doomed. Hey, Speaking of the North, why didn’t Chris show up, again?”

Phil giggled a bit as PJ shrugged, slurping his Frappuccino. “Just said he couldn’t make it, that’s all.” “He’s been ‘busy’ a lot lately.” Louise rolled her eyes gently. “He’s gonna bomb if he just stops studying.”

“What is he even doing?” PJ raised his eyebrows. “Seriously, I’m getting concerned-”

 “Less gossip, more studying, c’mon!” Phil interrupted suddenly, shaking his head quickly.

Louise and PJ rolled their eyes but reluctantly grabbed their pens, but Dan is too focused on Phil’s slightly trembling hands thumbing through his textbook. His nearly-neurotic obsession with studying wasn’t anything new-Phil had been studying a lot lately, breaking both the coffee and all-nighter limit they had set earlier that semester. 

Dan...well, he wasn’t exactly doing the same.

Pre-law was boring as fuck. Dan could feel his soul dying every time he went to a seminar. He couldn’t stand anyone else in his major. His eyes glossed over if he read case studies for more than 15 minutes, and if it came between studying and, well, literally anything else, he would gladly take anything else. 

Especially when that anything else was kissing Phil. 

Kissing Phil sounded really good right now. If their friends hadn’t been around, he’s sure he would’ve dragged Phil out of here by now and to one of the dozens of hidden corners of their campus for a good secret-kissing session. In fact, he’s tempted to make up some excuse and pull Phil away now when Louise nudges him. 

“Earth to Dan? Dan, aren’t you slipping in this class? C’mon, stop zoning out and get to work.” “You’re slipping?” Phil frowns, head jerking up. “Oh, Dan, why didn’t you say anything? You know I would’ve helped you study.” Dan groans under his breath. “Okay, okay. I’ll do it. I can’t help that it’s just so incredibly dull and stupid and-” PJ rolled his eyes. “We get it, you hate it. Less bitching, more studying, all of us.” Dan ducks his head down and begrudgingly starts to read along with the rest of them. He doesn’t miss the way Phil’s eyes glance over at him, offering him a sympathetic smile. If he had to, he would. If only just so he could trudge through it and get to the other side already. 

After a moment of debating, he glances up at the ceiling. God, if you’re there-let me get through this?

-

“Remand.” “I want to re-mand you that you’re my boyfriend, not my tutor.” Dan flashed Phil a grin, wiggling his eyebrows.

His grin wavered a bit as Phil shook his head, biting his bottom lip and giving him a stern look.

“Remand.” He repeated firmly, and Dan sighed.

“Um...the case in the court below it was incorrect?”

Phil shook his head. “Close, it’s actually-” He gets cut off by a dramatic groan from Dan, only muffled as Dan buried his face in their mattress. “Dan, I know you had your English exam today, but this law test is in two days. You need to-”

“Give me another one.” He snaps, and Phil sighs.

“Preemption.”

“That’s not a word.” “Dan, yes it is.” Phil says, voice softening as he reaches out and rubs Dan’s back. “Head up. What does it mean?” “Wait....is it when two courts, can-can...they can hear the same case at the same time?” Dan asks hopefully, looking at Phil, who’s grimacing.

“Not-Not exactly.” Before Dan can start up again, he quickly jumps in. “Let’s try an easy one-Plaintiff.” “Who even cares?” Dan snapped, kicking his feet childishly. He’s being annoying, he knows. He knows it’s late, and Phil has his own studying to do, and that he’s just trying to help. But Phil’s been on him since their study session last week when Louise let it slip that Dan wasn’t doing well in this class.

“I care, Dan.” Phil sighed, looking down and speaking quietly. “I-I just want you to do well. I’m praying for you and everything, but you gotta put some work in as well.” That shuts Dan up. 

“You’re praying for me?” He asked quietly. “I mean, I pray about you all the time.” Phil lays back down and gently pulls Dan with him. “But yeah, I’m praying for you. You just-you don’t seem happy with what you’re studying, and I just want you to be happy and successful. So I’m praying you find that.”

Dan pauses, not sure how to react. He doesn’t have a chance to when Phil gently adds “Even if...even if that means not doing law.” At that, Dan turns to look at Phil. “Don’t say that.”

“Seriously, Dan, if you want to study something else-” “Phil, drop it. I mean it.” “Fine, fine.” Phil pulls away, rolling off the bed and padding over to his desk. “You take a break, I’ll study on my own.” Dan curls up slightly into himself, his stomach turning. Phil sounded...defeated, almost. Maybe it was the lack of sleep, or maybe Phil was more stressed than he was letting on. And Dan was only adding to it, oh God, what a fuck-up he was- “Pray with me?” Dan blurts out suddenly. 

Phil freezes mid-highlight before turning to Dan, eyebrows furrowed.

“You just...you look so calm when you do. It’s worth a shot, right?” Dan says, but it’s a weak lie. He doesn’t just want the calm Phil has. He wants that relationship with a God, that spiritual awareness. He wants to feel close to Phil in the way that seems to keep them apart, moreso even than the physical distance that they keep when out in public.

After a moment Phil’s expression softens and he gives Dan the kind smile that always makes him melt. Before Dan knows it he’s back on their bed, pulling Dan close. “Why don’t we do the Daily Examen?” “More exams?” Dan raised an eyebrow, smiling as Phil giggled.

“Examen. It’s a guided prayer. It helps me when I’m all over the place and can’t think as clearly.” 

Dan nods a bit, taking Phil’s hands and watching as his eyes fall shut. “Dear God...we’re now entering a space where you’re with us.” Dan watches as Phil takes a deep breath before realizing he should probably close his eyes, too.

Phil starts them by listing their gratitudes (coffee, a kind professor who let Dan finish the last bit of his essay despite being over the time limit, a sunny day), focusing on emotions (Dan’s a bit surprised with how empathetically Phil agrees with Dan’s overwhelment), picking one area to pray (peace), and then their hopes for the next day (just to get through it). 

As he leads Dan, Phil gets that serene smile on his face, and Dan opens one eye slightly to watch him. He wants what Phil has, really. But he can’t shake the feeling that, well, they’re just talking to someone who isn’t there. 

When Phil opens his eyes, he gives Dan a slightly hopeful look. “Better?”

“I feel...calmer,” Dan says, and it’s true. He feels a bit better, but he’s not sure that it’s as much because of the prayer or because of Phil’s soft, guiding voice. 

“Good. Now, let’s forget about vocab, yeah? We can study more tomorrow. Let’s get some rest.” He presses a gentle kiss to Dan’s forehead, and suddenly Dan feels the guilt build up further. He wants to feel this sense of closeness, and he’s pretty sure by the relaxed grin on Phil’s face he wants it as well.

“Night, love.” Dan whispers, watching as Phil snuggled up close before drifting off. With a sigh, Dan looks up at the ceiling.

Okay, God, I had Phil with me this time. He thinks, furrowing his eyebrows a bit. And you still can’t talk to me? Give me a break here, yeah?

-

Dan and Lou stand in the cold a couple days later when they're outside the church for study group, waiting for Phil.

PJ had to cram right before an art exam, which seemed like an oxymoron to Dan, but he couldn’t be envious of how cool that sounded. They both had tests-Phil a math exam that he was surprisingly confident about, and Dan’s law exam, which, well…

“How’d it go?” Phil asked cheerfully as he jogs up to them both, and despite the heavy feeling in Dan’s chest as he flashes back to the test-he had barely finished in time, and he knew that a lot of guessing was involved.

“It’s law. But, um, you know. Decent.” Dan lies with a small shrug. Louise quirks her eyebrow subtle, a trait that Phil doesn’t seem to pick up on as Dan asks about his exam and smiling as Phil lights up.

“Good! I know I nailed the extra credit. I’m exhausted, but-” “Chris? Hey, I thought you said you weren’t going to come!” Louise says as Chris walks over. It’s only then that Dan realizes he hasn’t seen him for more than a passing wave in the halls for about two weeks now. 

All their study sessions, and group de-stresses, and snack runs, Chris hadn’t been there. But here he is, Bible in hand and with a weird grin on his face.

“You know me!” He says, sounding just a bit too cheerful. “Unpredictable Chris. Let’s get inside, yeah?”

Phil watches as he makes his way through the chapel. “Oh-yeah, that sounds good. How is everything, by the way? It seems you’ve gone MIA-”

Chris waves him off. “I’m here now, Phil, c’mon. I need some snacks.”

They head down the stairs and make their way to sit in their regular seats, Phil and Dan exchanging quick glances. After a few minutes, they begin-brief introductions, a few announcements, and finally the starting prayer.

Before Caroline can direct them to a verse to study for the day, Chris butts in. “Can I ask a question?” 

Both Phil and Caroline smile widely and nod, and Chris flips open his Bible.

“I was reading some 1 Samuel, about David and Jonathan.” He starts, gripping the book tightly in his hands. He taps a bit of a highlighted text, raising his eyebrows. “And they talk about how “David loved Jonathan more than women,'', and how, and I quote, ‘the soul of Jonathan was knit to the soul of David’. I mean...they were gay, weren’t they?”

The group seems a little taken aback by Chris’ bluntness, and Dan doesn’t need to look over to sense Phil shifting uncomfortably in his seat.

Caroline jumps in quickly. “I-I mean, people have interpreted it that way, yes. But they could have just had a deep, brotherly bond-”

Chris’ snort cuts her off. “I dunno, it seems pretty gay to me. I mean, they literally start smooching it up.”

“I think that they were gay, actually.” A girl across the room says with a shrug. “I mean, there had to be gay people back then. And Chris is right. They seem to act pretty romantically.” “You really think so?” A guy furrows his eyebrows. “I never read it like that. Judas kisses Jesus, but they weren’t gay.” “Yeah, well, I guess that’s not exactly the point. Here’s my question. How can you guys read and live by this book, but even though you claim that God is all-loving, some of you guys hate gay people?” The group falls silent, but that seems to only spur Chris on further. 

“Seriously. You guys talk so much about loving God, and God loving us, and loving brothers and sisters, but what if somebody in here was a guy, who happened to love guys? Like…” Dan holds his breath, eyes wide as he stares at Chris. 

“Like me?” He continues. Dan blinks a few times, looking equally as stunned as everyone else as his eyes dart around the room.

“Well-we want to be tolerant of everyone in here, so let’s start off with that.” Caroline jumps in again, but Chris shakes his head and barks out a laugh that doesn’t sound funny at all.

“I don’t want to be fucking tolerated, I want to be respected, and loved, and cared about-not just in spite of my sexuality, but because of my identity.” 

Chris stands to his feet, gritting his teeth as he slams the Bible shut and starts pacing around the circle. “It really, really fucking hurts when people don’t respect that. It hurts when I have to hear from my friends-” With that he whirls around, walking over to Phil suddenly. 

“Chris…” Phil whispers, sinking down in his seat somewhat as he looks up at him.

Chris stops in front of him, crossing his arms over his chest and glaring down at him. “When my friends talk so much about loving one another, but I’m not sure that they would love me if I was authentic with him.”

Phil sucks in a deep breath, slowly standing up. “Chris.” He says, voice shaking. “Chris, I promise I had no idea.” 

“Yeah, well, forgive me for being nervous.” Chris snaps. “I mean, you-Phil!”

Chris lets out a small yelp as Phil suddenly tackles him in a tight, desperate hug. The entire group is watching their every movement. Dan feels like his heart is going to explode. Finally, Phil pulls away, still holding both of Chris’s hands in his.

“Chris, if I haven’t shown you that I love you dearly as one of my greatest friends, I have f-failed you. As a friend. As a man. And as a follower of Christ.”

“You haven’t failed-” Chris laughed shakily, trying to hide the fact that his eyes were welling up, but then he looks shocked as a small sob erupts from Phil.

“I love you s-so dearly, Chris.” He says, quickly trying to control himself. “ ‘If a man say, I love God, and hateth his brother, he is a liar: for he that loveth not his brother whom he hath seen, how can he love God whom he hath not seen?’ “

“Chris, I-I know what love is because of the undying love of you as my brother. Through that I know God, and I know that God loves you so, so much. E-Even if you don’t believe, nobody ever-and I mean ever-should use him against you or your sexuality.” 

Chris is full-on sobbing now, and Phil pulls him to his chest, rubbing his back.

“If you’re gay, or bi, or-or whatever, I love you, and I love you b-because of it. I never want anyone to f-feel hated for that.” Phil pulled away after a moment before turning to the group. “And-And if you call yourself a servant of Christ, and you want to perpetrate this hate, or intolerance, I-I’d ask you to question why seeing someone-someone like Chris love another person with a pure heart makes you s-so uncomfortable.” Phil hugs him again as Chris’s shoulders shake and he balls up Phil’s shirt in his hands, mumbling “Thank you, thank you, thank you...”

After what seems like an hour, Caroline speaks quietly. “I think you both brought up some great points. Why don’t we wrap up early today, and-and we can try to pick this up next time, okay?” The group stays silent as Caroline leads them in their closing prayer, Chris’s quiet sobs the only noise besides her soft voice. People stand, a few shuffling over to give Chris hugs and murmur in his ear. “I think I’m gonna go for a walk with him. Y’know, help calm him down.” Phil murmured to Dan when he got a moment away. “Clearly a tough time, yeah?” “Yeah, yeah, of course.” Dan nods quickly, still a bit shell-shocked from the sudden outpouring of emotion. “Are you gonna-” He glanced between the two of them, and Phil bit his lip.

“I don’t think this is the best time to tell him about, um...that. It’s about him right now, me.” He said, glancing back at Chris nervously. “I just want to give him time to decompress. But we’ll grab dinner later, yeah?” 

Before Dan can answer Phil is back over with Chris, a supportive hand on his shoulder as he leads him out. The next thing he knows, he’s alone in the small room, and he takes a few deep breaths before looking up at the ceiling.

Why do you have to make this so hard, God?

-

It’s just about eight-thirty when Dan’s phone buzzes.

We had a long talk-tho i guess u guessed! Lol! 0_o U want 2 meet @ snake path? -Phil! 

Dan couldn’t help but grin in spite of the heaviness he had been feeling for the past several hours, practically jumping off the bed. 

Omw in five. 

Snake Path was Phil’s name for this little curvy path near the edge of campus, totally obscured by trees. The two had shared plenty of kisses and mini dates there, hiding out from the world when it all got to be too much. Some time with Phil sounded perfect-time where he didn’t have to think about God, or Chris, or coming out, or God forbid the fucking bombed law exam.

Dan can practically feel the sadness dissipating as he makes his way down, pulling his jacket tighter with a happy hum under his breath. Once he sees Phil, he picks up speed, laughing a bit as Phil gives him a small wave.

“Why didn’t you ask me to bring you a jacket?” Dan whined, wrapping his arms around Phil tightly. “You must be freezing!” “Well, good thing I’ve got you to warm me up.” Phil grinned and sat down, pulling Dan into a kiss as soon as he was sat down as well.

Dan giggled and started to speak, but Phil was kissing him again, hands moving to gently hold his hips.

“I missed you.” He murmured against his lips. “I know it’s stupid, but we haven’t had enough time to ourselves lately.”

“I missed you, too.” Dan sighs, wiggling slightly under Phil’s hold as he pulled him into another kiss. 

Phil kisses back, and for the first time all day, Dan feels good.

Dan’s totally lost in the feeling, letting out a happy sigh. Before he knows it, he’s climbing into Phil’s lap, hands cupping his cheeks. 

He doesn’t even realize that he’s sliding his tongue into his mouth until Phil makes a surprised noise, quickly freezing as he feels guilt swarm inside him.

“Phil…” He starts to push him away, but Phil giggles a bit, looking a bit stunned, before he slowly tries to pull him back. “Nobody’s out here…” He assures Dan, shrugging a little bit. “If-If you want to keep going-” 

“Phil, I-what are we doing? What am I doing?” Dan quickly moves off of Phil’s lap, hugging his knees to his chest.

Phil blinks a few times. “...Kissing your boyfriend?” He asks, tilting his head to one side. He’s giving Dan a clueless look, like he really doesn’t get what’s going on. That only makes Dan’s stomach hurt worse.

“You know I want to do a bit more than kissing, don’t lie.” Dan’s snapping now, but he can’t help it. All the frustration is bubbling up, and the way Phil’s face turns red and he looks away sheepishly. “And I think you do, too.”

“Is that such a problem?” He said quietly. “That I want to...do more, with you?”

“Yes, Phil!” Dan groans. “Are you-Are you kidding me right now?”

Phil takes a deep breath. “I’m sorry-you just came on kind of strong. I-I guess I must’ve gotten the wrong idea.” “Yeah, well, you sure did.” Dan grits his teeth, running a frustrated hand through his hair. “I’ve had the worst fucking day of all time, and now look what’s happening.” Phil looks completely beside himself, curling up a bit further into himself, but before he can speak Dan’s going off. All these things he’s been holding inside him for so long, they just seem to be exploding out.

“Everything sucks, yeah? I get that for you, it might be different. You know what you want to do with your life, and you love it. It’s your calling or whatever. And you’re naturally some freaky genius who gets to do everything right the first try.” “Dan, c’mon-”

“No! It’s true! You’re Mr. Saintly, you can do whatever you want! My parents think I’m some delinquent, and I have to become a shitty lawyer to convince them I’m not!” “Hey, hey-” “You don’t get the pressure I’m under!” Dan snaps finally, slamming his hand against the grass. “I don’t know pressure?” Phil says, voice quiet. Dan opens his mouth to speak, but freezes as he catches the glare Phil shoots him. “You’re telling me I don’t know pressure? The model Catholc ex-homosexual?” Dan nearly shivers as the way Phil’s voice raises in anger-it’s not even that he looks that mad, but it’s so foreign that it terrifies him.

“I mean, really, Dan! I’ve never taken exams like this, I’m exhausted, I’m worried about you, I learn my-my friend thinks that I’m just as bad as the people who tried to ‘cure’ me, and now my boyfriend is getting mad that we just want to kiss after a long day and telling me I don’t know pressure?”

Dan gulps audibly, wrapping his arms around himself. “I didn’t mean to get mad.” He says finally. “Then why were you?” Phil sounds exasperated. “I don’t understand how you can kiss me like that and then just freak out and expect me not to get worried!”

Dan sniffles a bit, looking down. ”Well...we were getting kind of intense. And we’re Catholic, so I thought-”

He falls silent as Phil’s anger fades away and is replaced with confusion.

“Wait, hold on.” He shakes his head. “We’re Catholics?”

Dan freezes before looking over at him with a guilty look, feeling his insides physically ache at all of the hurt inside him. “Well...I-I’m trying to be one, anyways.” He explains shakily,

Phil gently rubs his hand with his thumb, letting Dan continue.

“I-I’m always trying, you know that? Even if I seem like I’m being a little bitch about flashcards, or-or slacking off, or just being weird and watching you pray. I’m trying! I’m trying to believe in God, I’m trying to not flunk out, I’m trying t-to not kiss you in front of everyone, I-I’m trying so hard, and it’s just-it’s not enough…” “Baby…” Phil reaches out and pulls Dan into his lap again, this time only to hold Dan as tight as possible. 

“Why isn’t it enough?” He hiccupped out as he started crying, breath coming faster. “E-Everyone else g-gets to do everything s-so easily, s’not fair!”

Phil didn’t say anything, just humming sympathetically and rubbing slow circles onto his back. After a bit, Dan finds himself slowly starting to calm down, and when his crying has been reduced to sniffles and a shaky sigh, Phil pulls away. 

“Do you want to start brainstorming solutions?” He suggested gently. Dan shrugged, rubbing his eyes. “Okay, let’s start with an easy one.” He says, voice somehow managing to be matter-of-fact and still loving. Dan feels himself shrink slightly, pressing his cheek to Phil’s shoulder. “You think you’re going to fail?” Dan laughed weakly, nearly about to start crying again. “It’s not really a question at the moment. I totally bombed that test today.”

“Do you care?” Phil said, quickly clarifying. “Do you care if that hurts your chances of having a career as a lawyer?” Dan pauses, taking a deep breath. “I don’t...I want to be in college. I don’t wanna flunk. But, fuck, if I become a lawyer I think I’m gonna be sad, and miserable, and having a miserable mid-life crisis, fuck-” Phil tugs him closer. “Hon, you don’t have to do law. You can do something else.” “You don’t get it, my parents-” “Dan.” Phil nudged Dan’s side. “Remember, I’m supposed to be an ex-homosexual and a future man of God. My parents expect me to be holy. Literally. I know it's tough. But it’s your life, right?” Dan nodded, rubbing his eyes. “I just...I don’t wanna be aimless.” “Then don’t be. Use the rest of this year to explore what you’re into, and then we can regroup and come up with a plan.”

Dan bit his lip. At first, the thought terrified him, but really after this semester there was only a semester left. Maybe Dan could take that theater class he had heard about...and the idea of not having to do another law seminar didn’t sound too bad…

“Mmm...I suppose I could.” He mumbled, rubbing Phil’s chest absentmindedly. Phil smiled and kissed his nose. “Now. About the religion stuff.” He started, sighing as Dan groaned in embarrassment before continuing on. “Are you really wanting to be Catholic? Like...really?”

“I want to be Catholic with you.” Dan said softly. “I want to share that-that idea of God with you. Because what if, when you-you go to seminary-which I know is a million years away, but still-what if you realize you need to be with another Catholic?”

Dan’s voice broke at the end and Phil cooed, rocking him back and forth gently in his arms. “Daniel, I-I...I don’t even know if I want to be Catholic anymore.” He admitted. As Dan shot his head up, 

“I want to follow God, and be a leader for Him. And I love some of the ways that the Catholic church does. But the idea of trying to be a religious leader for a religion that can’t support me and my relationship...” He took Dan’s hand and laced their fingers together. “Maybe I could check out some more, um, progressive Christian denominations.” 

Dan took in a deep breath, cupping Phil’s cheek with his free hand. “Wow. Just...wow. You see us lasting that long? Even if...I’m sorry, but even if I don’t think I could ever believe in God?” He asks, a bit doubtful. “Owe no man any thing, but to love one another: for he that loveth another hath fulfilled the law...” Phil began, nuzzling his cheek. “Love worketh no ill to his neighbor: therefore love is the fulfilling of the law.” At the blank look on Dan’s face Phil laughed. “It means love is the most important thing, out of all the rules and commandments of Christianity. I think you’re a wonderful person who acts with love as much as possible, and I think that’s why I love you, and honors God-whether you call it that or not.”

Dan blushed. “You really think so?”

“Of course. And we can share deeper, spiritual things together, if you want to get close in that way. We can try meditation sometime. Or-Or more midnight talks, you know I love those.” “And what about...getting close, y’know, in that way?” This time it was Phil’s turn to blush, looking down. “I’m not exactly saving myself for marriage anymore.” “Can’t you become a virgin again?” Dan asked, and Phil turned infinitely redder.

“I-yeah? But do I really want to do that? I mean, I did what I did. And I don’t want to be a virgin until I can sign some piece of paper. I-I don’t want to wait that long at all, actually.”

“Oh?” Dan gulps thickly.

“I want to share it with you, because I love you, so much. I’ve never done it with someone I’ve, um, loved before.” He whispered softly. “Only quick, desperate stuff when I was...y’know.”

Dan cooed and cupped his cheeks, kissing him slowly. “I want to share it with you, too, love. We can figure it out later, yeah?” Phil grinned and nodded before leaning into the kiss, Dan giggling a bit. It might sound stupid, but he just felt so good. So light. Like he could just sit here in Phil’s arms forever, and nothing bad could happen. Like-

“Are you two tonguing right now?!” Louise shrieked, and Dan yelped as suddenly Phil was scrambling away, both their faces bright red as they turn to look up and see Louise, Chris, and PJ looking down at them with amused looks. “You totally were!” “Noooo…” Phil whined, burying his face in his hands as Chris snorted out a laugh. 

“Wow, Phil, kinda bummed you didn’t show me this kind of brotherly love.”

 Dan and Phil exchanged small glances, a slow smile spreading across each of their faces. “The soul of Daniel was knit to the soul of Philip.” Dan teased.

“Oh-shush your hush!”

[icharchivist]

 i’ve got a spiral down about my past and needed to throw it all out somewhere sorry about that, scroll past

under cut cw: self harm mentions, suicide idealization mentions, the usual deal from my parents, abandon issues and even slight bigotery discussion that has nothing interesting to say, just me being upset at my parents, so please just scroll past. 

Honestly i act as cheerful as possible lately and to be honest, i truly am happier than i had been in a long while - my current hyperfixation helping a lot and i think it also helps me process some things that I need to process as of now, especially the whole “living in the present, moving forward and try not to think too much of the past” angle that i obsess about lately -

but there’s not a single day that passes where i’m not angry at my family, that i’m not frustrated, that i don’t want to scream. I look back at my past and want to destroy it all, throw it all out, hating every single minute of it. 

And it’s while it’s better now that my (ex)stepdad left for good (I still have the 6 fucking years of trauma he left me with to deal with though) and that my mom is barely there bc she’s happily living with her bf right now (and even there this bad, bitter part of me is just BITTER that she can just move on and be happy as if i hadn’t been miserable due to her decisions in that whole time) - there is still the case of the fact that there’s this trial against my dad that is bringing back sour memories because my dad just... come to shake things bc he sucks. 

And meanwhile i’m happy i don’t have the weigh to bother with my mom but like?? that adds to all the times i’ve felt neglected, abandonned, left behind. And she will be /happily/ doing so and i must be happy bc she’s happy. 

All those problems i have to still process the consequences to shouldn’t even have been problems to start with. There is no reason any of it is fair, any of it is worth it. 

And like everytime i look back i just see how miserable it made me and how i still pay those decisions to this day: hell right now my hands hurt like crazy and GEEZ. bc what is handicaping my hand? a sickness that started due to high dose of stress my parents put me under AND neglect bc my mom argued for months i didn’t need to see a doctor and we didn’t have the means for it, leading to me contracting a deadly disease that will ALWAYS remain in my blood and always show up again when i’m having some pick of stresses and that still forbid me to do things to that day.

And like... everytime i start to be in pain i get frustrated because those problems, i’ve learnt to deal with them and i especially learnt to shut the fuck up about it. Because even if those are things that could kill me, it’s always things that do it /slowly/ so my parents don’t care?? they just tell me to stop complaining and move on? Like i almost had a ulcer and since then can’t eat some stuff anymore but does that stop my mom from just cooking it and joking that “she too is in pain eating them”? 

And i’m frustrated because I compare to my sister who had also been deadly sick, but those deadly got very quick and concerning very fast so my mom at least always overprotected her - and that’s good and fine, i’m glad my sister got the support she needed, but in the meantime when I got my deadly sickness i was just told to suck it up and that we couldn’t see a doctor because see it’s slow so it’s not important? 

And there’s not a day without those thoughts to come back to me. And it frustrates me, it makes me want to yell. 

And like. Like. My mental health had been SO BAD for ALL THOSE YEARS and all i’ve ever heard was my mom in denial shutting me off everytime i tried to bring it up because “no no because it’d mean you’re crazy and you can’t be crazy” mom i’m telling you i want to kill myself pay fucking attention, or worse, my dad who used my confession to my mom about self harm (that my mom welcomed with fucking “I have more important things to deal with” before snitching to my dad that it was his fault while i didn’t want to tell my dad) tO PUT IT IN COURT and tlel the judge that my mental unstability “caused by my mom” was why he shouldn’t give me allowance and lol i was 15??? And that led my dad to make suicide jokes at my expense to total strangers as i grew up???

And then 4 years ago  when i cut ties with my dad he started to send threats telling me he was going to send doctors from the mental institude against us because we were “dangerous to society because we’re mentally unstable” for thinking he should pay the fucking allowance, and he’s threatening this very thing again now??? 

Meanwhile like even my mom told me that perhaps i should keep low my attempts at therapy because my dad might use it against me and like?? like??? in what fucking world. 

And I think back to those once in a while, those thoughts sneak back into my mind and i’m angry, i’m so angry, i’m so so angry at this past. I want to tear it off i want to remove it I just don’t want it. I am tired of staying up at night reviewing my trauma because my brain finds it funny to remind me that everything went downhill and i’m trying to fix what people had destroyed around me and i wonder why i even bother it’s not like i knew how it was when it wasn’t broken and i don’t see why i have to put this much effort into all of this that shouldn’t have happened to start with. 

and I can see random things and it sets off the spiral down, anything that is a cute tongue and cheek thing about your past can make me remember stupid things that happened and then it’s over for the few hours that follow because i need to review AAAALL of that trauma, including things i have no reason to remember about like my fucking ex. 

And it happens over and over and over again.

I’ve ended up having a rather weird spiral down rn bc when my brain keeps me awake at night i try to focus on learning Japanese so i still stimulate my brain and distract myself from mental breakdown, but it comes with its lots of trauma, like the fact my mom had always been pretty bigoted toward this culture and had always made me feel bad for being curious about it, that i’ve wanted to study it for ever but my mom always killed it in some way or another, that i was made ridicule for it, and hell so did my Dad, he was no better he was just less virulant than her and just more humiliating. My mom was shutting me off and my dad was humiliating me, they made such a goddamn duo (and anyway from the letters i’ve found back from my sister running away that was already their combo kill before, lmao, and they still do that while divorced ofc).

And I was thinking what would be THE event in my life i could change that would have saved me all that trouble? And i think, if my grandmother took me with her when she took my sister away from my family. If i grew up with them what would have happened? 

And I was thinking, geez my mom always told me they were horrible people and i mean the apple can’t have fallen so far from the tree right? Like, how is there any garentee it could have been better except for the fact my sister got a happy life there.

and from all the things I could remember i remembered that they moved away back to the island my mother grew up to that is nearby Japan (which was my mom’s justification for being bigoted), and that for a couple of months when i was 14 where my mom managed to get in contact back with her mother (not allowed to talk back to my sister though and that’s when things turned sour but that’s a whole other can of worms), and for that slight time my grandmother actually talked back to me and was the most encouraging person from my whole family, and she had patrons from Japan so since she knew i was interested she sent me goodies she could find, like a traditional fan i still have, and she was even talking about how my mom and I could move in with them, and that i’d study there and study the language and all and it was already more support than i’ve ever had before which i’ve never realized until now and i started to cry in the kitchen out of nowhere (probably not helping i was making onigiri so it’s the mood i guess)

and like all of this was a lie since a few weeks later she told my mom last minute that we weren’t allowed to approach them anymore since my sister didn’t want to see her anymore (DUH that’s why she ran away) so we had to change our plans last minute and we lost contact and i’ve lost pretty much all interests i had at the time because now i associated it to a sour memory, and i suppose that’s part of the reasons why i hadn’t considered studying Japanese again until pretty recently (that and the fact my mom still found bigoted boyfriends who belittled me for that as well but hey when the shoe fits i guess)

 and i guess this whole spiral down i was thinking, i was told all my life they were horrible people and I don’t know them enough to have judged them, yet in a couple of months i was in contact with them they had shown more support to me than my family ever did. 

And it just... guh.

I feel like ever since i’ve read my sister’s file and that every affection i still had for my family broke, everyday is just a flood of remembering memories i’ve repressed of slight neglects here and there, or things i’ve been in denial about because it couldn’t have been that bad right? 

And I feel like.. the more now i’m trying to be in a better place mentally, and to sieze things I want, the more i remember why i wasn’t doing those to begin with and it’s not just my mental health being bad because of my parents, it was the whole package the problem, i have this sort of trauma on every aspect of my life, there’s not a single thing i can think back without taking it in the lense of feeling betrayed by my family in some regards. 

And hell even to some extend i feel so, so upset that those bounds with my families are things I want to throw out to start with, because I value the principle of legacy, but my family never did and I think back about the fact my parents come from very different and vast cultures that has nothing to do with France (my father is southern italian, my mother is of jewish descendant (as in she herself considers herself atheist and she never passed it down but she was raised in the faith) with her family branches from Algeria and she grew up in tropical islands surrounded by their cultures) and that they always, always specifically made sure i never knew about it until very late, shutting me off of it and then being mad that i don’t know stuff from my father’s side or mad that I get curious about others things in general. 

and i feel misplaced, i feel like this odd number that never got the attention of my parents, that didn’t inherit anything and perhaps it’s better this way, but i’ve been envious all my life of this concept and now i keep thinking and thinking and thinking about what the hell went wrong and there’s nothing in my control, just trying to break the paterns over and over again. (and all of this not helped by the fact it was the same as school for similar reasons, so the problem always felt like a me thing, it takes forever to try to heal from it)

All while also i was the one who took care of all of them, ALL of them, of my mother’s trauma, of my father’s abuse, of my sister projecting her abandons issues on me and my eldest that left such a ghost in our life i have no memory of despite this weigh, all while dealing with life’s problems, school, bullying, my fucking ex, and I had to think about it, i had to take a lot of responsabilities very young to stop my mother from collapsing and to try to stop my father from hurting us, and it comes back, it comes back that i should have never taken this burden to start with, and that all this burden i’ve taken is for a family who had never connected with me, never tried to and always making me feel bad for doing so, and the people i’ve villified all my life as a coping mechanism ends up making me feel a sort of homesickness i don’t even know how to express because i don’t know what it is to have a home that doesn’t hurt and no place of escape was ever actually safe.

And i want to move on, i want to move past that, i’m tired to deal with those ghosts all over and over again, it should never have happened to start with. I am so frustrated of those battles i should never have had to pick, of this responsability i’ve taken, and now between my mom just going on living her life happy go lucky leaving me to fend on my own as if she hadn’t destroyed my life and my father who keeps arguing of how much of a terrible person i am for just asking for the rightfull help my parents owe me, all while also my father keep making me feel guilty about the disconnect i have with my family, about how i’ve cut ties with everyone, that i neglect this heritage i have, so much that the timing leaps over the things i want to focus on now and i grow bitter and bitter and there’s nothing my parents aren’t always poisoning in some way or another. 

I’ve been told all my life to not mimick my eldest, hearing humiliating things about her with the constant threat of “dont be like her” and now i yearn for having understood her back then and having done like her sooner instead of trying all my life to do the extra miles to not hurt my parents again the way she hurt them, while she was right, she was right all along and i’ve villified her all my damn life while she was right and i should have done the same far earlier if i hadn’t been made to feel guilty about having this clear exemple of a way out in front of me.

And i’m tired and i’m tired and i want out i hate this life i hate every single things that brought me to that past and i have no idea what i’m doing with my life nor why i even bother trying to keep walking but i sure as hell need to at least fucking try, if only because i can’t them let win it, if only by spite of wanting to finally cut it all out and them having to live with the fact they’ve destroyed everything they ever touched. 

So the spiral downs and freakout that keep me awake lately are super fun and i fucking love that i just had a breakdown in the kitchen because I just thought about how i was given my eldest sister’s room when she left home and all the things that then followed from me never feeling at home anywhere ever, and that just a single thought about a material thing from my past suddenly brings an avalanche of bad things to remind me of all that repressed memory i refuse to acknowledge.

Im having so much fun on this tuesday night, peace out i’m tired, i’ll blast some music again now.

[vegalume]

GUH! I hate fricken Walgreens! Until my insurance issue is fixed I have to pay cash for my prescriptions. The last time this happened it cost me $83 at Rite-aid for my most important medication. I go to get it filled at Walgreens (that took over our Rite-aid), they want $180 for the exact same medication.Another one that once cost me $14 is now $45. My inhailer is $300, used to be $75. And a 5 day course of prednisone that was $4, it's now $12. Even the OTC stuff is outrageous. I needed Sudafed, their store brand was twice was Rite-aid's was and is actually priced 50¢ more than the name brand.The new automated phone system sucks, we're always on hold for at least 15 minutes. And when I got fed up with being on hold over a half an hour I walked over there so I could talk to the pharmacist in person. Waited in line for close to 20 minutes only to be told by a manager (who only showed up when a line of around 30 people formed behind me) That if I wasn't dropping of a prescription then I needed to get out of line because they were too busy to talk to me about my meds. I'm really considering transferring my meds to the Walmart pharmacy, even though it's miles away. The convenience of the place being right across the street doesn't make up for the horrible price gouging, or the shitty customer service.

[codylabs]

Chapter 19: The Worst of Times

Links: P 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18

An honest-to-goodness alien spaceship came careening out of the sky, directly toward the town. At the last possible second, it pulled up and curved away, close enough that the people on the streets could feel the pull of its gravity drive. Then it swerved unstably side to side through the sky, as its pilot attempted to get bearings. Soon it seemed to pick a direction, and so tilted on one end and raced off toward the hills, slicing off a couple treetops as it went. When it passed over the Mystery Shack, it took a sudden drop in altitude, hovered into something resembling a standstill, bumped once into the side of the building, and settled to the ground upside-down.

Its engines wined tiredly as it rolled itself back right-side-up, and finally came to a rest right between Soos’ truck and the Stans’ RV, like just another car in the parking lot.

The airlock momentarily opened and two sore but triumphant teenagers blinked in the light.

“Ugh…” Dipper dropped the alien instruction manual and rubbed his arms with a groan. “Ow…”

“Bro…” Wendy staggered slightly and shook her head, her inner ear still spinning from the flight’s antics. She gripped her fingers around the upper rim of the airlock, and hoisted herself out before extending a hand down to Dipper. “That was… Bleh…”

“Yeah… Bleh…” Dipper took her hand, and let himself be lifted up.

“Let’s… Uh…” Wendy set him down beside her and gave him a friendly slap on the back. “Yeah… Let’s not… Not do that again.”

They both dropped down off the vehicle’s rim, limped over to the Mystery Shack porch, and plopped themselves down on the sofa, where they could massage and stretch their sore bodies in relative peace.

After about 5 minutes of sitting there groaning, Wendy reached an arm way over in the direction of the cooler, and came back with a pair of ice cream sandwiches. One she tossed to Dipper, the other she unwrapped herself. The cool milky goodness reminded them how hot they were, and they began to unbuckle and loosen their armor. Wendy took a moment to admire all the scratches and dents she’d accumulated on her shoulder pads, and Dipper took a moment to subtly readjust his pants for reasons we won’t go into. Finally he spoke up again. “Yeah… And if we do do that again… I’ll drive.”

“What? No…” She smirked sharply at him. “That was fun, man… I mean… I mean, that wasn’t bad, was it?”

A smile twitched at the corner of his mouth. “…You drive spaceships about as well as you drive cars.”

“Yeah, well…” She struggled for a retort. “Well… You read Alien-ese about as well as you read Spanish. ‘That’s the reactor ignition’ you said. ‘push that button’ you said. ‘try those switches over there’ you said… But was it any of those?”

“No… No, we made it out by dumb luck…”

“Yeah…”

“Ugh… Sorry.”

She blinked. “Yeah… Hey, you know what, I’m sorry too. I totally forgot all about the rotation controls there during takeoff. And I guess I am a pretty bad pilot all-in-all…”

“Ahh… It’s fine… It’s just barf. It washes out…”

“Ha ha… Ooooh.” She took another bite of ice cream. “That’s gross dude.”

“Breaking news! Dipper is gross!” A new voice suddenly joined the conversation, its owner leaping out of the door to land in a smug summersault before them. With a big metal smile and a voice like a TV announcer, she held her own ice cream sandwich like a microphone. She was talking again by the time the screen door banged shut behind her. “Stay tuned next time for these and other shocking revelations, such as: grass is green!”

“Ugh! Mabel!” Dipper frowned.

“What is UP, Dippingsauce?!? Say, when did you guys get back?”

“Like… Just now?” Wendy shrugged.

“Mabel!” Dipper hissed at a volume he thought was quiet. “Go. A. Way. You were ruining the… Ermmmph…?” He nodded toward Wendy in a way he thought was discreet.

“Oh, what?” Mabel laughed. “Did I ruin the moment? I thought you were talking about how gross you were! Well excuse ME for mussing up the moment, you adorable lovebirds!”

“I…! Guh! Mabel! Go away!”

“Maybe I will, but I'll never be faaaar... Ooooh-weeEEEEE-Oooooh...!” She made a mysterious alien noise.

“Say…” Wendy interrupted, eager as anyone to steer the girl toward alternative conversation topics. “What have you been doing all day, dude?”

“Oh, ME?” Mabel smiled. “Well, I… I! I have been thinking and braining and computing, and I think I’ve finally found a way for you guys to solve your little adventure. A big, grand, happy solution! A way that doesn’t involve killing all the alien robots. I way where people are still safe, but also nothing has to be extinct!”

“Oh yeah?” Dipper glanced at her, intrigued. “And what would this big, grand, happy solution be?”

“Nuh-UH! I can’t tell you! It’s a super secrety secret that only Soos and Robbie are allowed to—SWEET MOTER OF CINNAMON IS THAT A UFO?!?”

“Uh…” Dipper glanced over his shoulder. “That? No, of course not.” He shook his head and took another bite of ice cream. “’UFO’ stands for ‘Unidentified Flying Object.’ Whereas that machine is perfectly identified. It is a nuclear-powered sub-light cargo shuttle manufactured on Trilazzxx Beta, as exploratory equipment for Colonial Vessel 4.16’\. An extraterrestrial spacecraft. Not a UFO.”

“OH MY GEEEEEEEE…! Soos, get out here! Dipper and Wendy got us a UFO!”

Soos appeared at the door with a heaping mouthful of grass. “DUDE!” He gasped some down his windpipe, and spent the next several seconds coughing it back up as he ran after Mabel toward the vehicle. “Dude it’s a spaceship! Duuuuude!”

“Duuuuuuude!”

“Duuuuuuuuude!”

“DUUUUUUUUUUUDE!”

Mabel and Soos clambered up the side and disappeared down the airlock.

“…And we’re sure that thing is harmless, right?” Dipper blinked.

“At this point? Yes. And I also took the keys.” Wendy reached into her pocket and pulled out something like a cross between a sonic screwdriver and a feather duster. “I think these are the keys, at least…”

“Ha ha… Good move…”

“Yeah…”

They were silent for a few minutes more.

Dipper took a deep breath.

Wendy took a deep breath.

“So…” He began.

“So…” She began at the exact same time. This seemed to cause some form of mutual interruption, and caused them to both stop talking.

“Go ahead.”

“No, you go ahead.”

“Okay…” She continued. “So…” She let the word hang in the air for a minute, unsure of how to follow up on it. “So… We started a conversation earlier that we never got to finish.”

“Oh…” Dipper stammered. “Oh yeah. Uh… We did, huh? Yeah…”

“About how this adventure might very well be our last. About how if we’re not careful, we might never hang out again. About how I’ll miss you and you’ll miss me and neither of us really want that to happen and, like, what should we do about that…?”

“Uh… Uh… Yeah…”

“Hmm.” Wendy grunted.

And then they fell silent again.

Finally Dipper opened his mouth. Then he closed it, cleared his throat, and tried again. “Wendy, uh… I was wondering if tomorrow… Uh… If… Uh…”

“What?”

“Uh…” A spell of dizzy itchiness seized him about that time, and it got just a little too much to bear. “Uh…”

“What?” She repeated.

“Umm… Never mind.”

“No no no no!” She insisted. “You started a conversation earlier, and now you better finish it.  And you just started a sentence just now, so you darn better finish that too. If you really do have something you want to say, you darn better man up and speak up, or who knows; one of us could die in the meantime. You never know when you'll never have another chance, so take it now.”

“UH!” He squirmed nervously. “No, it’s not… Never mind. I changed my mind.”

“Changed your mind…? Really?”

“Uh…” Dipper took a breath, set his jaw, and finally said. “Okay.” Then he looked her in the eye and, with a truly monumental effort of courage, said it. “Wendy… Do you want to go on a date with me tomorrow?”

Her mouth slowly spread into a little smile as she leaned back and took another bite of her ice cream sandwich. Then she said. “I do.”

Then…!

Then… That was…

That was it… Wasn’t it?

That night Wendy came home tired, happy, and strangely optimistic… Everything seemed pretty good. Pretty chill.

Everything wasn't pretty good.

When she crawled into bed, turned out the lights and drifted off to sleep, something was wrong… It wasn't a happy sleep. A darkness seemed to encroach upon her mind, and forced upon it a new vision; a new vision, filled with darkness.

Within this evil nightmare, the day seemed to run the same way that she remembered. Just the way it was supposed to… Yes, everything was exactly the same… Until…

Until everything went wrong.

The ship exploded. Little bits and pieces flew from its port-side wing, as it tumbled for the ground. The controls fought back against her, the ground came much too fast, she missed the yard entirely, and crashed in the forest.

The ship tumbled end over end, breaking into pieces, littering the landscape with debris. Fires started. Radiation cooked the area at the atomic level. Ford evacuated people for their own protection. When he found Wendy, he had her strip to her underwear before he blasted her with the hose, trying his best to decontaminate her scarred skin.

But Ford had been irradiated himself; an even higher dosage than she. He was sick within hours, and nobody had seen much of him since. They say he’d retreated to the solitude of his lab, where he spent the hours and days doing who-knows-what.

Soos had to move his family out of the Shack. And as they sat together in a lonely motel room, he realized that there was so much heartbreak and brokenness and chaos roaming about that he couldn’t fix it. Even the greatest handyman in the world couldn’t fix it. He knew it, and the knowledge tore him up inside.

Melody had her hands full enough just trying to keep the hotel room in shape.

Abuelita found herself without her recliner for the first time in decades. The futon was a pretty big step down.

Stan found himself as a caretaker of sorts. He kept them fed and sheltered, much as he was able, kept them together and stable to the greatest of his ability. The same man who had brought them all together as Mr. Mystery now brought them together as their Grunkle. And what a Grunkle he was; but even he couldn’t reach Mabel.

Mabel.

As for her, there were no words for what she felt. It seemed that something inside her had suddenly snapped, and she’d retreated into her shell. Nothing seemed to be able to pierce through.

And Dipper…

Dipper was dead!

Wendy awoke with a sudden gasp, and found herself sitting up in bed, the sheets hot and sticky against her skin, her eyes glued on the moon out the window, her breath coming ragged and heavy.

What a nightmare that had been! It was so vivid! Almost as vivid as reality! When she tried to remember it, it didn’t elusively fade like dreams usually do; she could recall it so clearly… The image of Dipper’s bloody, broken body still hovered before her eyes, the broken lives and dreams, the sickness, the pain. She could see it almost as clearly… As… Reality…

But… Wait… Reality…?

Reality was the happy landing… The ice cream… The smiles… The awkward little invitation…

Right?

What was…?

What…

Which was the dream?!?

Wendy’s eyes slowly strayed around her room, searching in dread for the clues which would tell her.

She saw the 4 journals lying open on her desk; three red with the symbol of a hand, and one blue with the symbol of the tree.

She saw the pitcher lying next to her bed, so she had a place to barf if she again felt sick in the night.

She felt the light cotton shirt across her chest, the only thing she could wear that didn’t hurt so bad when it rubbed on her radiation burns.

She saw the little container on her nightstand, with some long, cumbersome scientific label: the pills Ford had given her to flush the latent Uranium from her body.

She saw her calendar, with its extra marks telling her she’d been bedridden 4 days now.

She saw the ‘get well soon’ cards her friends had made, lying in a messy little stack.

She saw last night’s dinner sitting where dad had left it on the foot of her bed; stone cold and untouched…

And on the windowsill directly in front of her, she saw a shattered, oil-stained axe; the axe Dipper had used to defend her to his dying breath.

Wendy’s mind, now fully awake, began to put the grim picture together: the happy ending was the dream. Instead of the nightmare, it was the good day that faded quickly from her consciousness, leaving nothing to recall it by except a vague, groundlessly hopeful feeling. The nightmare had taken its place in her memory.

And now, Wendy was struck with a sudden and powerful feeling of Deja-Vu: she’d been having the same dream for the past 4 nights. Each time, she vaguely recalled the relief, the peace, the life and love… Everything always seemed pretty chill… Then each time, she fell asleep. And the dream within a dream was a nightmare, and when she woke from both she beheld that the nightmare was true. Somehow, inexplicably, it had always been true…

Reality was the nightmare…

Bill would have been tickled pink.

Wendy would suffer no more sleep tonight. Instead she eased herself out of bed, dragging the quilt behind her for warmth. Then she flipped on the lamp above her desk, and watched the weathered pages of the journals appear before her in the yellowish light. Her butt landed on the chair, and her eyes landed on the pages, and there both stayed as the small hours ticked by.

This wasn’t right. She told herself. It wasn’t this way, and it won’t be this way. I don’t know how it could ever be fixed, but there IS a way, and I WILL find it. As she turned another page, she repeated this promise to herself a second time, and she believed it. She knew it.

Wherever you are, Dipper… Listen to me, and don’t you give up hope. Things look bad right now but somehow, somewhere, sometime, I’m coming for you. I will save you.

You had honor and grit beyond your years, Dipper. You were the one who taught me determination. You were the one who taught me heroism. Whatever it is I need to do, I learned it from you. If it had been me dead out there, you would have done the same and more for me, with neither hesitation nor doubt. And you wouldn’t have let depression or despair or a little Acute Radiation Syndrome stand in your way.

Listen to me Dipper, and hold fast.

I won’t be long.

I promise you life.

“Learn to think dark thoughts, my girl.”

These were the words Robbie had given Mabel 4 days ago, when he’d scorned her spirit and left her. These words had been given to her 23 minutes before Dipper died.

She shouldn’t logically have known of his demise on such short notice. She’d been in the van at the time, on the way to the motel, complaining and talking and joking with Soos and Melody… Then… She’d suddenly and inexplicably felt a piece of her soul shatter to pieces. Maybe it was just the minutes ticking by when nobody spoke or called. Maybe she’d suddenly put it all together: how the only place a dirty UFO could have come from is on-planet. How the only people who were currently investigating aliens (and thus the only ones who would ever find such a craft and try to land it in their yard) were Dipper and Wendy. Maybe Robbie’s words had set off a chain reaction of unreasonable, escalating paranoia.

It was probably the work of some kind of latent twin ESP.

It didn’t matter how she’d known.

She just had.

And thus did the civil war begin.

It was the spark that set the two sides of Mabel’s soul afire in hatred against the other. They donned their armor, they took up weapons, and they charged headlong into war on the surface of her mind.

The light half of her brain cried foul at the claims of the darkness; it said that Dipper wasn’t dead at all. “It’s all right!” The light half said. “What do you mean he’s dead? Of course he’s all right! He’s always been all right! He’s always been there for you, you’ve always been there for him, and nothing in the universe can stand between! That’s the way it’s always been, and that’s the way it will always be! Your love for him conquers all! And even if he is dead; so what? Together, you’ve conquered things more powerful than death before, and you will conquer them again! You’ve battled across space and time, you’ve grappling-hooked your way through demons and robots! So long as the name ‘Pines’ still dances in the sunny fields of Gravity Falls, your hope and your love will endure! Stand up and laugh at cruel fate, Mabel! The others need your strength!”

“Of course he’s dead.” The dark side retorted. “He went off alone with Wendy; he spent more and more time with her, less and less time with you, because he wanted to leave you behind! He thought you were too sweet and young and foolish for his duty, and he was right… He left you because he knew you couldn’t handle the grown-up world! The real world… It is dark and twisted and dangerous, filled with evil men, just like Robbie told you! Dipper left you for this world, and his foray into its clutches destroyed him. He should have stayed with you, growing young and stupid by your side, but he didn’t… And now what will you do, you glittery, girly little fart? You will sit down and you will cry, because bringing him back means following him into that grim world, and you are too cowardly for the task!”

Yes, it was true: only half of the mind was occupied by Mabel’s old self… The other half was something terrible and ugly and foreign… Some part of herself she’d either never noticed or always tried to repress. Where did this other half come from? How did it get into my brain? Why are you here? Why won’t you leave me alone? Help, somebody help! It’s hurting me!

No matter how the fires raged on that battleground, the darkness would not be subdued.

But that whole evening, the light side would not be subdued either. It had been holding aloft that one and singular hope: the hope and that this was all just a weird onset of paranoia. But… But what kind of person was paranoid enough to instantly become certain of a dark truth she couldn’t have known? Even Dipper hadn’t been that bad. Nobody was that paranoid, certainly not sweet, optimistic little Mabel… Certainly not sweet, optimistic, innocent, supportive, carefree, cheery, bubbly, joyous, happy little Mabel… Certainly not I…

Dipper was dead; she knew it but she didn’t know it, and that was the misery she had lived until 7:28 that night. And that was when Melody, the most adult-like adult present, got a call from Ford. She’d listened to the news with a steely frown for some 10 minutes, whispering questions just outside Soos and Mabel’s hearing.

Then she nodded, said something to Soos, and handed the phone to Mabel.

Mabel turned away before she could see Soos’ reaction, then pressed the earpiece to her head, and, in a barely steady voice, demanded of the man on the other end. “He’s dead? He’s dead, isn’t he? Dipper’s dead?”

Ford hadn’t dared to hesitate; she’d waited long enough. “Yes.” He’d said.

She vaguely remembered dropping the phone, then curling up in someplace cold and dark, pulling her head and limbs into her sweater, and crying. Deep inside the impenetrable inner sanctum of Sweatertown, the darkness gained ground. “I was right.” It said. “You are foolish, you are stupid, you are weak, and I was right. Now you are all alone, and there is nobody to help you. Your brother is gone, your uncles are just uncles, your friends are just friends, your Soos is just a Soos, and none of them know you anymore. The Shooting Star burned so bright and beautiful in its time, but a shooting star is just a falling star, and its shine is merely its vaporization. The atmosphere has torn it apart, and now a cracked, rough, beaten, cold shell comes plummeting for the ground; an impact that will surely dash it to pieces… Poor, poor Shooting Star… At last… At long, long last, it’s time for you to become something new…”

Thusly did the sweet, optimistic, innocent, supportive, carefree, cheery, bubbly, joyous, happy little Mabel slowly rot.

Robbie’s words echoed over the blackened, besieged walls of Sweatertown.

“Learn to think dark thoughts, my girl…”

Such thoughts had begun to ooze.

Dan tucked in his shirt and buckled his suspenders, as he glanced tiredly at the clock. He had to leave for work in 15 minutes… He supposed that was long enough to try once more to talk.

So he scooped a couple eggs and some sausage off the stove and onto a plate, and carried them over to his daughter’s sealed door. With one massive fist he knocked once, and waited a minute for the response that never came.

She didn’t want to talk. She never wanted to talk.

So he opened it anyway, and took a timid step within.

She was sitting at her desk, wrapped tightly in a quilt and little else, as seemed to be habit these past few days. Before her, arranged on the table like some kind of ritual, were all those old confounded books… What was she doing?

Whatever it was, she didn’t think it warranted showing to him.

Her back was turned, and there it stayed. Her gaze was forward, and there it stayed, as she flipped page after page, slowly and methodically, scanning from book to book to book to book. Occasionally she scribbled a note or a question or an answer here or there. Sometimes she checked a little chart she’d scribbled on the wall, that seemed to be some kind of code. Sometimes she fact-checked the blue one with the red ones, or the red ones with each other.

Always she was looking. Looking for what? Dan couldn’t guess. Why the sudden interest in books, when she’d never liked them even a little? Dan hadn’t a clue. What strange books were these, that could promise answers among matters of life and death? Dan hesitated to speculate. What did she believe stood to gain by pouring over scribbles all through the late and early hours? It didn’t make much sense to him. But somehow, such folly seemed infinitely important to her. Indeed, by the intensity of her studies, it seems she believed in it… WHY? He wondered again. WHAT IS THERE TO BELIEVE? WHAT IS SHE THINKING? IS SHE HOPING? HOPING FOR WHAT? AND HOW? HOW DOES HOPE FOLLOW FROM A SITUATION LIKE THIS…?

Well… He figured she probably knew a lot more about this than he did. Whatever she was thinking, he hoped to God that she was right.

He set her breakfast down on her bed, to replace her untouched dinner.

But before he left, he decided to try once more.

“…WENDY?”

No response, although her shoulders may have tensed just slightly.

“LOOK, I… I KNOW YOU DON’T WANT TO TALK, BUT… BUT. HMM. YEAH… UH… YOU KNOW, WHEN YOUR MOM DIED--”

“Was it your fault?” Dan saw his own daughter spin on him, wild and aggressive, lashing out like a cornered animal. And for the first time, Dan clearly saw that terrible, ungodly look in her eye. It was a look that shocked Dan, even frightened him into taking a step back, because he recognized it well. He hadn’t seen that look in a long time, and he’d hoped to never see it again. That was the look he saw in the mirror, when he met times of true desperation with all he had left: his anger and his willpower. When her mom died. When her brother had hit his head on a hiking trip. When the sky was red and everyone was gone. This was a look of great import.

“I don’t talk.” Wendy growled. “Because I know what you’re going to say, and I’m not gonna listen. You’re gonna ask me why the dickens I was trying to fly an alien spaceship in the first place. Why I didn’t land it properly, or why I showed enough weakness to need protection from some wimpy kid. You’re gonna tell me none of this had happened if I’d have just gotten a job like a good little girl! If I’d have just forgotten the whole thing! You’re gonna tell me I shouldn’t have tried to do this, and now ‘HEY LOOK SOMEBODY’S DEAD! HEY LOOK, NOW YOU’VE GOT ARS AND YOU SHOULDN’T BE OUT OF BED TILL YOUR BONE MARROW HEALS!’ WELL I KNOW IT, DAD! I darn well know I messed up, but I’ll have you know that we had our own good reasons for going out there, for fighting the fight we did, for flying that ship… We believed—No—We knew that we had to! But this wasn’t the way it was supposed to be! We would have lived…! And… And I don’t need another lecture from you telling me how to live my life… Just… Please, just leave…”

Dan stood there for a minute, shocked to silence.

“And…” Wendy announced. “Frankly dad, today’s the day. I don’t think I’ll find any more answers in these books, so I ain’t gonna stay sitting on my butt for one hour longer. You’re gonna leave for work in… What, 11 minutes? Soon as you do, there’s nothing to stop me. I’m gonna get up and I’m gonna head to town. Firstly to collect some equipment I lost in the crash. Secondly to get some questions answered. Third to buy a new bike, because the robot ate my old one. Forthly to visit the Pines, and tell them the half of the story they haven’t heard yet. Fifthly to just clear my head… I know Ford said to stay in bed, stay in my room, until I’m stronger; well screw him. I’m going, because this is more important. And… And that’s the way it is, so there…”

Her gaze passed off of him, as she turned back to her books.

Dan frowned for a good long time, his brain working to process all of this. He started off angry. Then he got confused. Then he stopped being confused, and he knew what he needed to do.

He could be late for work just once.

“UH…” He finally said, as he turned for the door. “I WON’T HAVE YA WALKIN’ ALL THE WAY TA TOWN IN YER HEALTH. GET YER STUFF TOGETHER, EAT YER BREAKFAST, AND I’LL MEET YA IN THE TRUCK… AND FER THE LOVE OF ALL THAT’S HOLY, PUT ON SOME PANTS! YOU’LL CATCH YER DEATH OF COLD…”

10 minutes later, she locked the front door behind her, and turned for the truck. She’d dressed herself approximately as she usually did: jeans, boots, jacket. But this time, that faded cap with the pine tree seemed more prominent on her head. And she was carrying more than an axe today; the blue journal was tucked in her unbuttoned jacket.

She was dressed for this business. But she wasn’t feeling it. The eggs and meat tumbled in her empty stomach like they didn’t belong. The chill morning air bit harshly though the inside of her stuffy nose. And her knees, of all things, hurt from so many days of sitting. In every inch of her body there lurked these subtle hardships of sickness. They made her feel thin, weak, even small. As if everything in creation, right down to her very flesh, was conspiring to oppress her. As if, in so many subtle ways, fate had made her less than everybody else.

This must be how Dipper feels every day. She realized.

“READY?” Her dad nodded from the cab of his truck.

She took one more deep breath.

Grit.

“Yep.” She nodded.

“KAY.”

Then she looked over and met her dad’s eye.

Honor.

“…I’m sorry I yelled at you.” She told him. “That was outta turn.”

“’SOKAY.”

“…You’re really not mad at me?”

“…THERE’S A LOTTA THINGS I DON’T UNDERSTAND.” He grunted. “BUT AS FER WHAT YER FEELING… THAT I DO GET. AND EVEN I KNOW BETTER THAN TA STAND IN THE WAY OF A CORDUROY WEARIN’ THAT FACE. NOW… WHERE IS IT YA NEED TA GO?”

She stepped up into the passenger seat, and pulled the door shut behind her. “Uh… McGucket’s handling the salvage from the crash, right? Weren’t you driving the tow truck for the cleanup?”

“YEAH. EVERYTHING WE DIDN’T BURY I TOOK TO HIS PLACE.”

“McGucket Manor then.”

“Hey, make it fast up there, Pumpkin.” Grunkle Stan lowered her gently off his shoulders, and gave her a reassuring pat on the shoulder. His rough, cranky old voice was the gentlest he could make it today. “Don’t wanna be around here longer than we have to… Ha ha… Radiation, and, uh… Heh heh… Y’know. All that… Just get your stuff and come right back down.”

In numb compliance, she walked slowly up the familiar creaking stairs, through the room lit red by the triangular window, and finally into the cramped attic space where all her stuff was…

And all his stuff too… She tried not to look at it.

She stopped by a small metal box that was sitting on her bed. And she stared at it for what felt like minutes, while the mighty battle of light vs. dark raged harder than ever in her soul.

Juan was in that box.

The adorable, innocent little robot that Wendy had found in the woods at the start of all this… Mabel had been the one to keep him fed and charged and happy; who had played with him, and kept him safe from the family who would have meant him harm… Somebody mysterious had even saved him from their hands, and then entrusted him to Mabel, knowing that she still loved and cared for the cub…

Hesitantly, Mabel popped the latches on the box, and looked inside.

Juan was still in there.

He’d been in there 4 days now. No electricity. No room to move. No light. No warmth. No mommy. No love.

Very slowly and weakly he looked up at her. His red eyes were glowing almost too dim to make out, and the most he could do with his legs was wiggle them side to side, as if lacking the power output to even stand up. She could tell that he was nearly dead.

“Oh…!” She choked dryly over her words, and her sight got blurry. “Oh, I’m so sorry Juan…” She reached down with her bare hands, and curled them around his tiny chest. He was even thinner and lighter than she remembered, and his legs were covered in what felt like metal shavings. (Robot poop? Gross…)

He didn’t activate his saws, even when her bare hand accidentally touched them. Maybe he didn’t fear her or hate her anymore; or maybe he was just that helpless.

She rushed over to the wall outlet, sat down next to it, and held his head right up to the socket. Soon as the creature recognized what was happening, it extended its hooks and worked them into the plug. Its entire body seemed to shudder for a moment and then relax. His legs wrapped themselves comfortably around her wrist, and the claws gently plucked at her sweater. His tail wiggled in the cutest way possible, and his entire body seemed relieved, even sleepy as he nursed.

Oh, Juan…

Such a sweet thing…

…

It’s all his fault.

If you hadn’t wandered into that bear trap… Your mom wouldn’t have left you for dead. And then Wendy wouldn’t have found you and taken you home. And then your mom wouldn’t have come back looking for you, and hurt Dan… And then Dipper and Wendy wouldn’t have gone on an adventure to find where you came from… And… And then Wendy wouldn’t have flown that spaceship, Dipper wouldn’t have dueled your mom… Your mom wouldn’t have died, and… AND… AND!

AND DIPPER WOULD STILL BE ALIVE!

Very slowly, Mabel watched her hand reach up to settle on the top of Juan’s head. I’m just going to pet him… It’s all right. I’m just petting you Juan… Don’t be afraid. You need to be… Petted…

But she didn’t pet him. As if it had a mind of its own, Mabel’s hand curled its fingers around the sides of Juan’s head. And her other hand reached around to hold his torso steady.

No…

No, I can’t do this. It’s not… It’s not really his fault. He’s just a baby… He… He… He doesn’t deserve it! What am I thinking?!? He’s innocent! I love him! He’s…

He’s guilty.

I hate him.

Mabel’s fingers tightened. In an instant, her wrists flexed, her arms straightened, and she grunted with effort.

With all her strength, she spun Juan’s head around on his body. And she held it at that terrible angle for a second, flexing with all her strength, waiting for some quiet ‘click’ which would indicate his tiny spine had cracked.

But his neck was made of titanium; it didn’t break.

Suddenly, Mabel froze, and realized what she’d just done.

She dropped Juan on the floor with a gasp, and stood up suddenly, staggering back about 5 steps. Juan shook his sore neck and glanced up at her in an accusing way.

Mabel kept retreating until her back touched the wall. That really happened. She realized. She’d just tried to murder an innocent creature. She, Mabel Pines, had really, truly, with all of her might, tried to end the life of an innocent, adorable baby animal, and all for no reason besides anger…

She broke down into uncontrollable tears, jerked the door open, and rushed headlong down the stairs. Stanley noticed her coming, and, guessing wrongly at the source of her distress, reached up a hand to try and stop her. “Hey, woah, woah, it’s okay, Sweety! C’mere, it’s—”

She blubbered something unintelligible that even she didn’t catch, barreled her way past her Grunkle’s embrace, and sprinted for the back door.

Gone, gone, gone…

Dipper was gone… And now Mabel must be gone too… Yes, something must have taken up residence in my brain, because I would surely never have done that… Surely not I…

The battle in her brain raged on, just as ferociously as ever.

And the light side was getting truly desperate. Has the darkness really won? It asked.

The dark side snickered at the protests of the light. I guess we’ll have to see… It taunted.

Beneath the battle in the brain, Mabel’s legs ran and kept running, while the tears streamed down her face. Grunkle Stan may have been running after her, or he may not… It didn’t really matter; she had faster legs than him anyway.

She ran and she ran.

I tried to kill him! The light side of her brain sobbed. Dipper was the only one I could ever trust, and now I can’t even trust myself!

Geez, this is getting sad! The dark side of her brain cringed. You weren’t even strong enough to break that kid’s neck! Dipper wouldhave couldhave done it better… Whatever you think you’re doing, you definitely need help.

Where are you, Dipper?!? Her light side cried out. What can I even do? Where are you to tease me when I’m silly? Where are you to pick me up when I’m stupid? Where are you to put a bandaid on my soul and give me an awkward sibling hug? Dipper… I need you so BAD…

She ran and she ran until she found herself standing all alone, in a small field of yellow grass. All around the field stooped a scraggly grove of Birch Trees, their trunks banded in sheaths of white bark as smooth as eyelids…

Mabel took a deep breath and wiped her tears, as she sank down into the grass.

Dipper… The light side of her brain pleaded. I would do anything in the universe to get you back…

Oh yeah? The dark side asked. …Did you just say ‘anything’, Shooting Star?

She opened her eyes.

And she saw a small stone statue.

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[thetravellingvagrant]

Day 8- Lviv: In Which I Am The Man In The High Castle

I spent the vast majority of my morning catching up on blog business, various pieces of travel admin and sleeping for longer than I should have done; consequentially (and shamefully), it was veering close to one in the afternoon by the time I removed myself from bed.

I walked, bleary eyed to the bathroom. The toilet was still running from the last time I had pressed the flusher. It was, I had learned through experimentation, possible to fix this problem, though each time I did, it would relapse at the next push of the plunger and require ever so slightly more drastic action for its next repair. Not willing to eventually have to dismantle the entire cistern, I had begun to just let it run in between uses; a barely acceptable, though mildly infuriating solution at best.

Barely acceptable, though mildly infuriating is actually not a bad way to describe this apartment in general. It hadn't taken long for the shiny white veneer of the place to crack apart, revealing the poo-brown mankiness that lay underneath (Not literally, though give me time...). The constantly howling toilet and genuinely stomach-turning décor of the place were among the steadily more and more irksome irritations which had begun to surface at this point and in no area was this more apparent than in the kitchen.

The kitchen had been stocked in a genuinely mind-boggling manner, boasting far, far too many of certain items- something like 20 plates, 15 shot glasses, a single pastry brush, because even one of those is too many in an AirBNB kitchen- and far, far too little of others. Zero bowls being the most egregious offender, though an utter lack of any kind of bread or butter knife also ranked fairly high on that list. Two types of spoon were available; teaspoons and giant-ass serving ones. Nothing in-between that you might, say, want to eat cereal with. Also whenever you turned the hob on, touching any of its corners would immediately result in a mild electric shock, which. You know,. Not great.

And so I found myself on my first morning in this apartment, in a bad mood, pouring cereal into a mug. I cracked open the milk I had bought the previous night, gave it a customary whiff to check its freshness and immediately wretched.

“Thaaaat is not milk” I spluttered to myself.

I took the time that I should have taken in the supermarket to translate the Cyrillic on the carton.

“Yuh...ooooh...guh...urt...” For fucks sake.

I tipped the contents of my mug back into the packet from whence it came and decided to have a sandwich instead.

Five minutes later, I was rewarded for my effort with a piece of mangled bread, torn up initially in the cutting and later in the butter spreading process- given that, as I mentioned, I was sans bread and butter knives respectively- topped hastily with clumps of butter, a couple of slices of plasticy Emmental cheese and a few bits of some thinly sliced, cured sausage. It wasn't the prettiest sandwich ever made, but begrudgingly I will admit that I still enjoyed it. Somehow. Nyerr.

And so I left my apartment, full of starch and rage, close to two in the afternoon, with only a few hours before darkness and the freezing cold of eastern winter set in. Unlike Brest, Lviv boasted a great number of worthwhile attractions and museums and whatnot, so I had had rich pickings for the day's plans. A great number of the things I really wanted to do were positioned in the area immediately adjacent to the city's Russian consulate, though, and so I decided to perhaps postpone them for a day or so, pending a check up on that whole pesky martial law thing. Instead I had opted to have a little walking tour of the city, taking me past some of the cooler statues (and this city has some very cool statues...), around High Castle park- which, as the name suggests, is a park, on the top of a hill with...a castle. I think, at least, I didn't see a castle, but I bet there is one- and finally to the arsenal museum, positioned right next to my flat, to gawp at all old weaponry and that for a bit.

I decided to head to the park, first and foremost, as time was getting on and I didn't fancy climbing a big hill in the dark. It was located around half an hour's walk outside the core of the city, so I had hoped the walk would give me an opportunity to take the city in, properly, this time after straight up forgetting nearly everything I had seen and done, the previous day.

I wasn't disappointed; Lviv is a nice city, seemingly walking a line in its aesthetics between its eastern neighbours and something altogether more...Scandinavian. The best of both worlds, really. Particularly, if like me, you enjoy wide open, freezing cold, borderline dystopian spaces. Mmmm.

Anyway, I progressed through its relatively lovely streets, freezing away- it is still routinely around -5/6 every day- and soon found myself at at the base of the High Castle.

The park was as pleasant as the city, itself and, save for a weird greenish, mustardy colour that the well trodden snow had somehow taken on, was an altogether lovely experience. I clambered my way to the highest peak, which was, I dunno, pretty high, I guess?

...I guess?

snapped a few pictures, as I am wont to do, before, after around twenty minutes, finding myself becoming just a little too cold to justify hanging around any further and unclambering my way back down. Despite the feeling in my fingers fading alarmingly quickly, I decided to continue around the rest of the park, having seen a sign pointing to a thing called a “grot” and having very little idea what that could have been but knowing that I absolutely needed to find out.

TELL ME YOUR SECRETS.

The rest of the park was equally lovely, save for the grot- which was actually a bit rubbish in the end-

Genuinely thought a troll would live here. Beyond disappointed.

though did, by the time I found myself leaving, strike me as being all a bit samey thanks in no small part, I imagine, to the snow covering everything, like the big white bastard blanket that it is.

After another half hour walk back to the city, time was marching on and I knew I needed to move quickly, if I was to make it to the arsenal museum with enough time to ooh and ahh at its pointy wares. My stomach, however, was growling with hunger and my core temperature dropping to genuinely uncomfortable levels and so I took a calculated risk to drop into a cafe quickly to refuel and warm up.

By the time I had made it to the museum, there remained only around half an hour before it was due to close. Perhaps just enough time for a whirlwind tour of the place (which, realistically was all I had really anticipated in the first place). Even this blitzkrieg visit was not to be, however, as I watched in (admittedly minor) dismay as the couple entering the museum ahead of me, were immediately turned away, presumably as they wouldn't have enough time to make it around the entire exhibit before the staff effed off home. I breathed a sigh of relief, grateful that the minorly awkward bit of social interaction had fallen on these other people rather than me and vowed to come back tomorrow, instead. All that was left to do, then, was pick up some food for the night and go home. My next stop was to be the supermarket.

I went to a different supermarket than I had the previous night; a necessity, given that I couldn't find the last one I had gone to and had since entirely forgotten its name. This new supermaket was the fucking worst. Tiny enclosed aisles, bustling with genuinely quite rude people who had seemingly very little in the way of awareness of the space their body occupied or how the way in which they used that space may come off as slightly antisocial; this coupled with the shop's bizarre, almost one way circular circuit of a layout and mind-boggling insistence to not stack like products together, saw me spending the better part of half an hour, walking round and round, being knocked into, tutted at and side-eyed in the pursuit of three paltry items, by, to put it as kindly as I can, wankers; a phenomenon not entirely localised to Lviv's supermarkets, by the way- there appears to be a general culture of being just honestly a bit rude and refusing to get out of other people's ways, here.

Audibly grumbling to myself, like a nutter might, I returned home to warm up and continue my desperate efforts to chip away at the mountain of vagrant admin.

My dinner for the evening was to be a hearty bowl of tuna-pasta. I boiled my fuisilli, diligently for as long as I could be bothered waiting and set about mixing two new additions to the vagrant larder- tuna and mayo- into some kind of grim, almost edible paste. I cracked the top off of the little pouch of mayonnaise I had just bought and, for some weird reason, thought it prudent to give it a taste before I let it touch my precious tuna. Be it due to some kind of weird psychic vagrant-sense, or because the packet, on closer inspection looked like it might not actually be mayonnaise in the strictest sense, I slurped a glob of it into my mouth. For the second time today, I wretched. I wretched hard. I wretched so hard that I was nearly immediately sick as my very nice and also total bastard of a girlfriend with whom I was skyping at the time, laughed herself feral at my obvious discomfort. My mouth was filled with a weird, putrid sweetness that immediately hit the back of the throat. It was like drinking a death milkshake.

[REDACTED]

“...are you sure its in date?” she queried, except more Geordie than that.

Again, I was fairly sure that it wa-ah, no. There it is. Mystery solved. It was more than one month past its sell-by date. I had just eaten a mouthful of rotten mayonnaise, with an audience. Perfect. What a perfect day this was. I put the mayonnaise in the bin, right next to that fucking yoghurt and the Arsenal museum. Fuck this.

Thinking on my feet, I ended up mixing the remnants of my sandwich fillings into the pasta, creating a sort of cheesy, meaty brick of carbohydrates, which I grimly and dilligently munched my way through, on the verge of tears before, almost immediately afterwards heading to bed, with an ominous churning beginning in my guts...

[richiesmashmouthtozier]

BITE ME!

CHPT.  3/??

read: 1 | 2 | 3 |

A/N: This chapter is way longer than the first two but this is, without a doubt the best chapter yet. So sit back and read all about betrayal and trust issues hahahahahahahaha...

mentions: big thanks to @edsrich for reading the first version of this chapter (i rewrote it lol) and just generally showing interest and being nice:)

also a little mention to @tobzier for showing interest, you may not think you’ve done anything but you actually encouraged me by showing that you liked my idea so thanks:)

description: The losers are only 15 when Derry changes forever. The scars from It are barely faded when the newest threat hits the small town, Zombies. Most adults start getting infected one-by-one leaving many kids to fend for themselves, including the losers club. When Beverly is attacked and bitten by her father she can’t help but think she’s a danger to the club, there’s no escaping yourself.

Pairings: reddie, stenbrough, benverly

!!!!!!TRIGGER WARNINGS!!!!!!!!: description of gore and lots of it (it’s a zombie apocalypse), a lot of angst, so many swears oh mY GOD

this chapter: trust issues and angst

And without further ado,

Enjoy :)))))

————————

“You’re hair is winter, fire january embers, my heart burns there too…”

“No not that!”

“Come on Ben think!”

“Ugh this is stupid!”

Beverly woke up with very little memories of what happened the night before, she didn’t even know what time or day it was. She slowly opened her green eyes to reveal a foggy vision starting to adjust. her headache rushed through her brain making her squint. Her stomach was in agony as she curled into a ball. It rumbled and made weird noises, she was hungry. She was so fucking hungry goddamnit.

She thrashed the covers away and used one hand to support her getting up by holding the end table, her other hand, of course, was clenching her stomach. Her legs were shaking bad and felt numb as they hit the floor with every small step. The feeling went from her feet up and caused a wave of exhaustion spread despite her sleeping more than usual.

“He- help…” her voice was raspy and broken. She attempted walking but she had to remain hunched over. This position allowed her to notice all the little things around the room. there was paper scattered along the floor and around the window they threw their trash out of. Along with that there were crayons and broken pencils, almost every typical writing utensil you could find. She didn’t have the time (or energy) to think about what that was all about and kept walking, very slowly.

she took off the giant coat that had been wrapped around her to reveal the bloodstained inside caused by her bloody clothes from the previous zombie wave. She was burning hot but once she took off the jacket she was cold, so she draped the coat over her shoulders without putting her arms through the sleeves. Her steps were slow and she swayed back and forth but she finally reached the door. Her shaking hand pulled the handle down and the door opened. She continued walking down the hallway.

“Bev, what the fucking hell?” Richie quickly finished the stairs and came to the girls side, “You look like complete shit!”

“Richie…” she said at a whisper, “I- I need food…”

“This is all because you’re fucking hungry?” he said surprised as she used his arm as a support beam, “What type of dreams are you having to make you this goddamn hungry?”

“Shut up…” he stomach felt like it was being stabbed and it made weird bubble noises.

“Bill! Get a plate of food!” He yelled. She squinted from hearing the loud noise and her ears started mildly ringing. He picked her up wedding style and carefully walked down stairs.

“Wuh-wuh-what’s wruh-wrong?” Bill said placing the plate on the table with stan resting his chin on his shoulder.

“Bev is starving? I’m not really sure what’s happening either to be honest,” Richie replied helping her in her seat. Eddie took a breath from his inhaler in shock of what he was seeing.

“Jesus Bev!” Stan said. She was gorging the beans as fast as she could with the small fork. The three boys stared at her with confusion that it made Mike confused when he entered the room.

“Um why are we all starting- the hell is she doing?”

She lifted her chin from her last bite and dabbed her napkin around her mouth, “Why is everyone staring?”

“Why? You were eating faster than any animal I’ve ever seen!” Mike said. She glared at him.

“I’m sorry i got hungry,”

“That’s seems like an understatement,” Stan said.

“Yeah that seems a little unhealthy,” Mike said.

“How many times do I have to say that I’m fine?” she got up with both hands on the table, “You don’t need to worry about everything that happens to me,”

“Buh-bev-“ Richie nudged him and gave him the “this won’t help anything so just stop talking” look and Bill nodded.

“I grabbed your guys’s backpacks while I was down there and two of the flashlights need new batteries- BEV!” Ben came from the basement and dropped everything in his hands to run over and hug her, “Holy shit I thought- well i didn’t know what to think!” Bev hugged back but needed to double take on what just happened.

“Uh.. Thanks ben,” she did the only thing she knew what to do when she liked someone and tried to ignore him and focus on something else before she made a fool of herself, “Are you guys going out to town?”

“We were planning on going to the convenience store on Woodblock street,” Mike said rolling up his map.

“Well then I guess I woke up just in time then,” she gave ben his coat back and hesitated but winked, “I’m not waiting up!” she grabbed her backpack hanging over a chair.

“Beverly you can’t be serious,” Stan said parting from Bill.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she gave the sassiest look she could.

“Bev i don’t think this is the best idea,” Ben said holding his coat real tight.

“You legit just died, stuffed your face and now you want to fucking go on an adventure? You’re fucking high, dude,” Richie said looking to Eddie to see if he agreed, he didn’t look at him but he could tell he did.

“Look are we going or not?” Bev said tapping her foot.

“Leh-l-let’s just guh-guh-guh-go,” Bill said walking towards the door.

“Bill,” he looked back to see Stan with his hand on his shoulder and the rest of the boys. All of them were staring at him with mixed expressions: angry and confused.

“Big Bill you might want to rethink this,” Richie said leaning with one hand on the table.

“Yeah you’re going crazy,” Eddie said shaking what was left of his prescription (he’s been saving it up since the apocalypse even though he knew it was all bullshit).

“Luh-luh- look, Bev just guh-got a little sih-sih-sih-sick, she slept all day, o-o-obviously she was huh-hungry,” everyone knew they should follow Bill- he was their leader after all- but in the back of their minds they thought it was wrong. Stan especially was wondering why he kept defending her. Ben was thankful for it but he was worried about his crush, he had spent the whole time she was sleeping making a poem about her just in case something… bad happened.

“We’ll wuh-wuh-wait about a-an hour t-to prepare some muh-muh-more, than we’ll go,”

“Sounds like a plan,” Bev said and threw her backpack on the table top and ran upstairs.

“What the fuck is up with chick,” Richie said out of the silence.

Bev stared herself down in the mirror of her room. Her overalls were covered in blood as for her skin. Her hair was starting to grow out more and it was halfway down her neck. She felt weak. She felt scared. She didn’t feel like herself at all. She started pacing. The feeling of terror hadn’t crossed her this bad in two years when she was forced to face her biggest fear. What was her biggest fear now?

She shook off the thoughts. Don’t be stupid, she said to herself and she did the only thing that felt right.

Exactly an hour went by and Bev came downstairs wearing the same outfit she had worn when they first defeated It. Everyone stared at her surprised, she hadn’t wore that dress since that day. Just seeing Bev in that outfit made them all shiver in fear.

“Is that hair on your shoulder?” Stan pointed out.

“Probably,” She shrugged and dusted it off. She had cut her hair as short as it was with worn down scissors she found in a closet. Of course she didn’t look like she did when she was 13 but, hell, it was close enough to make the rooms air fell thin.

“Wuh-wuh-well we better get going,” Bill said looking back at everyone as they gathered their stuff.

They walked in a in a horizontal line with Bill in the middle holding a fence post nice and tight (with Stan right next to him and the butt of his gun sticking out of his backpack).

Ben stood awkwardly at Beverly’s left (Bill was at the right) and tried to observe Richie and Eddie on the other side. Everyone knew they liked each other, especially after last night's bonfire, and Ben wanted to see how they did it. How they would be so close and nothing was weird. Then he observed Beverly. That outfit made all her features stand out more since the last time she wore that was 2 years ago.

She had grown and he hoped he did too but he never noticed anything new with himself but the people around him seemed to be growing physically and mentally. That wasn’t always a good thing considering Stan was officially diagnosed with OCD and Eddie’s Anxiety got worse to the point where the pills weren’t (gazebos) placebos. His mental health wasn’t right after the event but his mother was too poor to pay for a medical bill to check if there was something they could do about it, but all they could was hope it didn’t get worse.

“This is it!” Mike said almost triumphantly as they walked between an old flower shop to see at the other side of them was an empty convenience store. They had taken the path through the canal where less zombies roamed and kept a sharp eye out. They never talked unless they were in the building that was already checked for those rotten corpses.

Richie went in first and checked to see if there were any zombies in the front and the rest poured in and checked the isles.

“All clear!” Stan yelled after checking the last aisle.

“Oh-okay guh-guys, get wuh-whatever you want,”

“I love being able to take anything I want,” he breathed taking in the scene. Trash mouth Tozier adapted the easiest to the whole apocalypse, no one to miss and no one to miss him, except for his losers. Everyone thought that was sad but they couldn’t lie about the single moments of feeling free.

“Don’t take too much, Tozier we gotta haul this back to the house,” Mike said picking up more cans of baked beans in the third aisle.

“Do you think they’ll have jerky here?” Bev spoke up from the “female product” aisle. Mike audibly gagged at the thought.

“Since when do you like beef jerky?” Stan said while getting jars of peanut butter.

“I dunno, I was just kinda craving something,” Her eyes scanned the store in a hunt for the dried meat. Stan rolled his eyes, after that everyone figured it was just “that time of the month” so no one said anything. The simple sounds of shuffling and small talk was abruptly interrupted by the shrill voice of Eddie Kaspbrak’s high pitched squeal.

“EDS?” Richie yelled running to the other aisle.

“FUCK OFF ME!” He’s voice pierced through the air.

“Eddie?” Mike ran with Richie.

“What’s happening?” Ben yelled as loud as his timid self would allow him next to the girl he loved. Bev started to smell something.

Was that blood?

Why could she smell that?

It smelt like meat?

Did it smell g-

“GET OFF HIM!” Richie yelled interrupting her thoughts.

“Holy shit!” She grabbed Ben’s arm and ran past the empty aisles clutching a fence stick in her other hand.

“FUH-FUH-FUCK!” Bill yelled. When they finally got to the other end of the store they saw the bunch of losers swinging their arms. Eddie was being ripped through the wall by a pair of rotting hands tearing at his clothes and skin. Eddie had one arm on the decaying hand trying to choke him and his other arm was being pulled by Richie who was being supported by Mike. Stan was shooting hands best he could without hitting their victim, but nothing was working.

“Stay out of my way!” Stan was yelling to all of the conflicted teens.

“HELP!” Eddie’s voice cracked. Beverly felt something inside her switch.

“Sorry Stan!” She shoved him out of the way and did the only thing her brain would tell her. She got a good grip on one of those arms and yanked it.

“HOLY FUCK!” Eddie screamed.

“WHAT THE FUCK!” Stan said. Ben stared in utter shock.

“SHI-SH-SHIT!” Bill stuttered out.

The arm had been ripped out and the blood was pouring everywhere along with chunks of skin. After the arm was detached Richie took his chance and wrapped his arms around the small boy’s waist and lifted him up with all his strength. He got him far enough from the wall that Ben could use the extra axe the store kept to cut off the arms. They were all running out of the horrific crime scene but Ben stopped at the door, “Bev?” he yelled. She was standing there shaking with the arm in her hands.

What the fuck have I done.

Why the fuck was I gonna do that…

“BEV?” Stan yelled louder.

“Oh shit! uh… sorry,” She threw the at the floor and stumbled into things on her way of running out. After everyone was outside Stan used his second to last bullet and shot the zombie in the head. After that they ran to the back hesitantly and continued along the stream.

“AUGH!” Bev screamed as she hunched over and fell down. Everyone turned to her.

“Uh… Bev?” Bill crouched down and reached a supporting hand.

“GO AWAY!” She swung her arm out and pushed him off balance into the water.

“Bev what the hell?” Richie walked towards her. she started to crawl backwards onto land, “GET AWAY FROM ME!” She was bent over due to the incomparable pain rising in her stomach.

“Bev calm down!” Mike tried to sound supportive.

“FUCK YOU!” She threw a rock at him.

“Beverly?” Ben said quietly walking ahead everyone.

“Bev stop!” Richie yelled. She stared at him with betrayal.

“Holy fuck,” Eddie said under his breath behind the trash mouth.

“AUGH!” She started to cry.

“Bev!” Ben ran to her. she lifted her head up to look at him in the eye. Her eyes started rolling back showing the whites in them.

“WOAH!”

“SHIT!”

“HAYSTACK!”

Stan ran to the front ahead of Bill who was stunned and stuck in the dirt.

He pointed his gun at her.

“Bev what the fuck!” his voice cracked.

“Woah Stan!” Richie yelled, he motioned forward but Eddie grabbed his arm and gave him a scared expression.

“UGH!” she grabbed her face and clenched her hair. She grabbed her bag and stuffed her arm into it. She grabbed the jerky and ripped off the top with her teeth and gorged on it, crouching over her knees. She whipped her head towards the losers club and as if fog had cleared in her eyes, the polished emeralds appeared again.

“I- What- I uh,” She tried to spit out.

“Hey,” Ben said timidly out of the crowd, “You’re okay. We’re- We’re all okay.”

She started crying against a tree as the rest of the gang dragged out of the water to comfort her.

“I’m so sorry…”

Ben was in the room with Bev, Richie was sure they were asleep by now. The rest of them sat on the ripped up couch in the living room. Eddie was leaning on Richie with what was left in his tear ducts stained on his cheeks. Richie was in the same disoriented condition, but everyone knew it was worse. This was the first real loss he’d experienced and she wasn’t even “gone” yet. Mike was in the kitchen cleaning up, it’s what he did when he stressed out. The three could hear Bill and Stan yelling at each other in the bathroom.

“YOU-YOU WERE GUH-GUH-GOING TO KUH-KUH-KUH-KILL HER STAN!”

“SHE COULD’VE KILLED YOU!”

Richie squinted while listening to the yells. Eddie was squeezing his hand noticing the tense feelings.

“WELL FUCK BILL! I DIDN’T KNOW WE WERE KEEPING ZOMBIES HERE NOW!”

“STUH-STAN STOP IT! DUH-DUH-DON’T TALK ABOUT BUH-BEV LIKE THE-THAT!”

“Whatever, Bill,”

“YOU’RE FUH-FUH-FUCKING JEALOUS!”

“OH DON’T YOU FLATTER YOURSELF BIG BILL!”

“You’ve ah-always been jeh-jealous of Bev! YOU-YOU’VE ALWAYS BEEN-”

“YOU’RE A DICK! THIS ISN’T ABOUT ME! THERE’S A FUCKING ZOMBIE IN THIS HOUSE GODDAMNIT! AND I’M THE ONLY ONE WHO SEEMS TO CARE!”

“S-STAN STOP IH-IT!”

“STOP WHAT?”

“STUH-STUH-STUH-STOP!”

CRACK

“What the-“ Mike flinched.

Everyone jolted upright. There was a hole in the bathroom door and blood around the left splinters. Bill started crying uncontrollably and fell into Stan's arms, the bird boy just looked at the door in shock while holding his lover close to his chest. All the while two emerald eyes were silently pouring rains from the hallway at the top of the steps.

———————-

A/N: HEYOO!!! I have no idea on how y’all are going to react to this lmao but sorry for my shit writing pretending that what i wrote was so good and hyping it up haha.

Be the first on my tag list? send me an off anon ask!!!!1!!

I don’t have any previews for the next chapter yet sorry:/ but just a btw I’m writing this while crying my eyes out because of the last episode of stranger things.

[vocaotome]

Hakuoki Shinkai Drama CD - Oedo Kaiko Roku - Full translation!

Many thanks to @ghostbunnies​ for commissioning me to translate this entertaining drama CD! I was super into Hakuouki when I first joined tumblr so it felt nice to revisit an old love <3 If you like the story, please support the series by buying the drama CD! It’s available in several online stores, e.g. cdjapan.

Translation under the cut! The CD was almost one hour in total with with 12 tracks, so it’s pretty long.

Hakuouki Shinkai- Drama CD

Chance encounter in Edo

 Track 1: The Renbukan successor

 -sparring yells-

Motoyama: They’re so enthusiastic as always. The number of pupils also seems to have increased a lot compared to when I came last time. Hmm, I wonder where Iba is…Ah, there he is!

Iba: Hey, you there. Your body axis is unsteady when you thrust. I always say to stand with your body on the midline, don’t I?

Motoyama: Iba!

Iba: Oh, Motoyama. What’s the matter? Did you have some business with me?

Motoyama: What are you saying! Didn’t we make plans to go drinking after this?

Iba: Ah, that promise was for today?

Motoyama: “Was it for today”, you say….sheesh.

Iba: My apologies. I have been occupied by tasks lately, and it slipped my mind.

Motoyama: Geez, you’re a heartless one. By the way, what’s up with Gunbei-san? I can’t find him.

Iba: Father is out for an appointment, and isn’t likely to return until late at night.

Motoyama: Eh, seriously!? I was looking forward to drink with him…

Iba: Are you changing your mind then?

Motoyama: No way! Regardless of the reason, there’s no way I’m putting off a chance to drink! I can just drink with Gunbei-san at some other time.

Iba: Is that so? Understood.

Motoyama: Well then, how about you? Will practice hold you up for a long time?

Iba: Please wait a little bit. I’ll wrap things up soon. -claps- Everyone, let’s end practice here. Please start cleaning up.

Disciples: Yes sir! Thank you very much! -relieved sighs-

Motoyama: (Iba has really gotten used to being the successor of the dojo. It’s hard to believe when you know about the past.)

  Track 2: Meeting

 Motoyama: Haaa! It sure got late! The pretty moon is spinning…

Are you alright? Your legs are wobbling. Shall I lend you my shoulder?

Motoyama: I’m not wobbling…Rather it’s everything around me that’s uselessly shaking.

Iba: I really should’ve stopped you midway. We only have a little more to go, so please do your best to walk for a bit longer. -footsteps- Uh?

Thug 1:You two. Sorry to interrupt, but could we have your attention?

Iba: What do you want?

Thug 2: You are the successor of the Renbunkan dojo at Okachimachi, aren’t you? We have some real important talk with you.

Motoyama: (Wha…Why do they know about Iba?)

Iba: I believe this is the first time I’m meeting you all. What could be this talk you’re referring to?

Thug 1: Nothing too big. You teach swordmanship in the Koubusho (T/N: a Japanese Military academy) for the Shogunate, don’t you? My employer got totally beaten up by you there and really got an earful for it. He was pretty mad about how it’d sully his reputation as a warrior if he let this go.

Iba: So you are here for the retribution of that?

Thug 1: Impressive, you get things quickly! That’s the correct answer.

Iba: In that case, instead of going this roundabout way, wouldn’t it have been more logical for your employer to just come to either the Kubosho or our dojo himself and ask for a rematch?

Thug 3: That indeed would be the right way to do it, in this world most people care more about their reputation and status. We have nothing against you, you see.

Thug 2: It’s just that we’ve already received a good bunch of money from our employer. Don’t hold this against us. -unsheathes sword-

02:00

Motoyama: Whoa! Hey, these guys took out their swords!

Iba: Motoyama, please hide behind me. Don’t leave my side at any cost.

Motoyama: But you alone can’t face off against so many-

Iba: Just listen to me and do it quickly!

Motoyama: G-got it.

Thug 3: Haha, this is good. Even though he’s carrying such an impressive sword, he’s useless when it comes down to actual fighting?

Thug 2: In this era, this is how warriors are. We are much more used to handling swords.

Iba: I’ll ask you this last time. You don’t plan to retreat, do you?

Thug 1: You’re making me laugh. Why the heck would we want to retreat when in such an overwhelmingly advantageous position?

Iba: Understood. In that case…-draws sword-

Motoyama: (Iba also took out his sword, can he really win against this many opponents?)

-swords clashing-

Thug: Shit!

Motoyama: (Amazing! Even though he’s going one against three, he doesn’t look cornered at all! Things might work out…!)

-swords clashing-

Iba: -panting-

Thug 1: Looks like you’re getting out of breath. Even if you’re the heir for some bigwig dojo, I guess being this outnumbered is still too much of a disadvantage.

Iba: -frustrated huff-

Motoyama: (This is bad! At this rate Iba will…!)

-footsteps-

03:30

Hijikata: Sheesh, I always tell you to hold back during practice…you really did a number on the poor disciples from downtown.

Okita: Even that was me holding back quite a lot, you know.

Thug 3: Aniki! Someone is approaching!

Thug 1: What?!

Thug 2: Hey there brothers, stop there for a bit. No one is allowed to pass through here. Look for another road.

Hijikata: What’s up with you? What do you mean by passing through not allowed?

Thug 1: It’s just like you see. If you don’t want to get hurt, do as we say.

Saitou: A three against one swordfight, huh? Hard to call this a fair fight.

Hijikata: Seems like either highway robbery or spree killing? Either way, I don’t like this.

Thug 1: Stop harping! We’re telling you to screw off, can’t you hear? This has nothing to do with you!

Iba: He is right. Please leave this place immediately. You might end up receiving collateral damage.

Okita: -chuckles- Collateral, you say? These three don’t seem to be skilled enough to win against us though?

Iba: It’s no time for jokes! Please, go away quickly!

Motoyama: Iba…!

Saitou: The person involved is saying so…What do we do, Hijikata-san?

Okita: Let’s do it! None of them seem that good.

Hijikata: I was also feeling kinda irritated just now.

Iba: What are you saying?! Didn’t you hear what I said earlier?

Thug 2: What, you wanna have a go? You could leave unharmed if you just left this place quietly. I guess these are what they call suicidal idiots!

Hijikata: Now then. I wonder who are the idiots here. -draws sword-

Motoyama: Uwah! They drew their swords too!

Hijikata: Souji, Saitou. No need to hold back. Beat them into the ground as long as you don’t kill them!

Saitou: Understood.

Okita: Even if Hijikata-san didn’t tell me, I wouldn’t have gone easy on them.

Thug 1: Seems like they won’t learn without some pain. You two, take them on!

Hijikata: You louts are the ones in for a world of pain!

-swords clash-

05:49

Motoyama: Look, Iba! That man, dressed in black, he’s holding his sword to the left!

Thug 3: What the heck is up with this guy?! Why is he holding it to the left?! -swords clash-

Thug 2: Shit, it’s hard to face those strikes! You bastard…what a cowardly tactic-

Okita: Do you have time to look away? Your opponent is me. -swords clash-

Thug 2: What the hell are those movements!?

Okita: Ha!

Thug 2: Aaah! -sword flies off-

Iba: I can’t follow his footwork at all! Also three consecutive hits!

Hijikata: Now then…you’re the only one left standing. Are you prepared?  Heh, I don’t plan to let you go regardless of whether you’re prepared or not.

Thug 1: Huh, keep prattling! Haaa! -swords clash-

Hijikata: Oh? Seems like you do have some skills. Why do things like this when you are this good?

Thug 1: We also have our own circumstances. You were just unlucky! I’ll show you just how much until I drill that lesion into your flesh and bones! -swords clash- I guess swords won’t do. In that case…let’s end it with this!      

Hijikata: Oh! Eat this! -throws sand-

Thug 1: My eyes! You coward! -punched-

Hijikata: Serves you right! It’s your fault for letting your guard down.

Iba: What on earth? Did he throw sand towards that roushi? (T/N: Roushi - lordless samurai)

Okita: You’re the same as always, Hijikata-san. Won using an unfair tactic again?

Hijikata: Shut up. A win is a win. If I let this go on for any longer my sword will get dull. (T/N: He literally said “How many togidais do you think are here?”, and togidai refers to a policing bench for Japanese swords).

Saitou: Hey. The others with you aren’t in a position to hold their swords anymore. Do you still mean to continue?

Thug 1: Guh! We’ll retreat for now, but you definitely won’t get away with this! We’ll definitely pay you back for today! Remember it! -runs away­-

08:15

Motoyama: -exhales- We are saved! I seriously thought we were going to get killed.

Okita: Oh boy. -sheathes sword- They were weaker than I expected. Considering how they were, wouldn’t Hijikata-san alone would have been fine?

Hijikata: I’m not so sure. They didn’t seem like the sort to honestly fight face-to-face.

Iba: Um…

Hijikata: What?

Iba: I’m Iba Hachiro from the dojo in Okachimachi.

Saitou: Okachimachi? One of the four big dojos of Edo, Shingyoto Ryu dojo Renbukan? The name of its founder was indeed Iba, I believe.

Iba: Yes. The current head, Iba Gunbei, is my father.  

Okita: A young master who’s the heir of a bigwig dojo, huh? You seem to have been raised very well.

Iba: Thank you for rescuing us in the face of danger. –That’s what I would like to say, but as a swordman I cannot help but question the way you fought earlier.

Motoyama: -splurts- Iba?!

Hijikata: What about the way we fought?

Iba: First of all, why is he -points to Saitou- carrying his sword to the left of his waist? Any proper dojo would have corrected the dominancy of his hand.

Saitou: Of course I’m aware.

Iba: Then why do you not correct it?

Saitou: Because I reached the conclusion that correction wasn’t necessary.

Iba: Are you trying to commit sacrilege against swordmanship?

Hijikata: Just carrying the sword wouldn’t be a sacrilege against swordmanship. Seems like the young master of a big dojo is pretty inflexible.

Iba: That’s not all. Earlier you threw sand into that roushi’s face to blind him.  No matter what a sword used through cowardly means manages to achieve, it will never be more than a tool for evil.

Hijikata: I don’t particularly care. It can be evil or whatever as long as I win.

Iba: Are you mocking me? A victory earned through such means is nothing except a fleeting win.

Okita: Could it be that you didn’t notice? I guess the Renbukan dojo isn’t that much of a big deal, unexpectedly.

Iba: Eh?

10:37

Okita: Hijikata-san, the roushi from earlier was hiding something in his bag, wasn’t he? Considering the size, it was probably some throw weapon.

Hijikata: Don’t say unnecessary things.

Iba: !! Don’t tell me, the roushi from earlier was about to use that?!

Okita: You finally noticed? I guess there is a limit to being slow.

Iba: -speechless-

Hijikata: Since you ran off your mouth so much about our fighting style, let me say something in return. If you were surrounded by people like earlier while you had a woman with you, what would you do? If they used the woman as a shield and took off with her, would you make excuses for your defeat -“they were cowards, I would’ve won in a fair fight!”

Iba: That’s…

Hijikata: Haha, I guess the young master of a big dojo would’ve managed something using all those disciples. Either way, you won’t be able to protect a single thing with such weak determination.

Iba: !!

Okita: Let’s get going already, Hijikata-san. Talking with people like this is a waste of time.

Hijikata: Yeah.

Iba: Wait!

-footsteps leave-

Motoyama: -sighs- We were saved…The first group were bad enough, and now these guys…all people I don’t want to get involved with. We should return home already for today.

Iba: ….

Motoyama: Iba, what’s the matter?

Iba: No, it’s nothing. Let’s go back.

Motoyama: Even though I managed to relax for once, it’s all ruined now. Oh well, I guess it’s fortunate that neither of us received injuries.

Iba: I…guess so. (Who on earth were the people from earlier? They were around my age, but they were very skilled with a sword and appeared to be familiar with actual fighting.)

  Track 3: Thoughts on being a warrior

 Kondou: Toshi.

Hijikata: Oh, it’s you, Kondou-san.

Kondou: I was wondering where you went after dinner, what are you doing alone in a place like this? Everyone else already went to sleep.

Hijikata: Sleep lost me while I was thinking about stuff.

Kondou: Is that so. Come to think of it, I heard from Souji that you guys got into some flashy brawl today. That you rescued an heir of some famous dojo?

Hijikata: It happened just by chance while we were on our way back.

Kondou: What’s the matter? You seem different from usual today. Is there something big troubling you?

Hijikata: Not really. I just realized that there are people in this world who have certain things from the moment they are born, things that we cannot obtain no matter how hard we wish for it. People who have the samurai spirit driven into them from childhood, and after genpuku (T/N: Japanese coming-of-age ceremony in the past) wear their daishou (T/N: a matched pair of Japanese swords worn by the samurai class in feudal Japan) at their waist like it’s a given.  

Kondou: Are you referring to the young man from the Iba dojo?

01:14

Hijikata: -inhales- Yeah. I usually believe that we’re more skilled than most samurais of this era, but would dealing with peasants and spending all the time fighting with disciples from other dojos really help us become warriors?

Kondou: That’s…

Hijikata: Ah, sorry. It isn’t like me to make such pathetic complaints. I’ve always known that this was an absurd dream, but…

Kondou: Sometimes you have to let things happen at their own pace. Rushing doesn’t help.

Hijikata: You’re the same as always.

Kondou: But for him to have left such a strong impression on you, Toshi, makes me want to meet this young man at least once.

Hijikata: Hey, what are you saying? Nobody said anything about ‘a strong impression’.

Kondou: Is that so? Normally you wouldn’t care if someone higher than you in status said something to you. Didn’t you notice something in that Iba boy that you couldn’t ignore?

Hijikata: I guess the heated way he could sprout preachings -that made my body itch just from hearing- without any embarrassment is something I found admirable.

Kondou: Saying such things again…

Hijikata: Anyhow, he’s the young master of a big dojo. A rundown dojo like ours would never be have anything to do with him.

  Track 4: Origin

 Iba: No good. I can’t concentrate today.

Motoyama: Iba, you were here?

Iba: Ah, Motoyama. What’s the matter? Do you have some business with me?

Motoyama: Nah, no urgent business. I heard that Koubusho was closed today, but you’re still doing swinging practice at home? How zealous. Your body won’t hold up if you don’t let yourself breathe once in a while.

Iba: I’m fine. I know about my body the best.

Motoyama: Could it be that the guys from earlier are on your mind?

Iba: …

Motoyama: It might not be my place to say this, but wouldn’t it be best to forget about them quickly? They seemed to live in a world different from our own.

Iba: What do you mean? Do you know something about them?

Motoyama: Ah…that’s…

Iba: Please tell me! What on earth were they? What dojo were they from?

Motoyama: …After that incident, I investigated about them. They seem to be freely associated with Shieikan dojo that’s situated in the Edo outskirts.

Iba: Shieikan? I’ve never heard of it.

Motoyama: They don’t have any disciples who have made a name for themselves. But they seem to be really strong at actual fighting with no record of losing. The people associated with the place also seem to be a rowdy bunch who get into frequent fights with the disciples of nearby dojos. During matches they seem to use thick bokutou (T/N: Japanese wooden sword used for training) that are like tree branches.

Iba: I have sparred with disciples who use bokutou, but I have no experience with any that are thick like tree branches. I see…I want to try it out once.

Motoyama: Why do you look so interested? Didn’t I tell you to not involve yourself with them?

Iba: But I’m indebted to them for rescuing me back then, and I should at least say my greetings…

Motoyama: Stop it! There are more reasons for you to not involve yourself further!

Iba: Which are?

02:35

Motoyama: To tell the truth, I heard this strange rumor while in the market in Edo. Remember the Roushi we encountered the other day? Apparently they are recruiting members from dojos and amusement quarters here and there, planning to get back at the Shieikan members.

Iba: Really?! Then we have to inform them quickly!

Motoyama: -grabs- You can’t! You are the heir of Renbukan! In case something happens, you might end up disgracing Gunbei-san, the dojo followers, and even the name of Shingyoto Ryu! You’re different from the typical Hatamoto successors! (T/N: hatamoto were samurai in the direct service of the Tokugawa shogunate of feudal Japan)

Iba: Disgracing the name of Shingyoto Ryu…

Motoyama: Yeah! As the next head, you should think about what you should prize the most! You gain nothing from involving yourself with such thuggish people!

Iba: Father once told me this: Shingyoto Ryu is a discipline that values training your heart. Hesitation in your heart means results in hesitation in your body and your sword.

Motoyama: Yeah yeah! It’s exactly as Gunbei-san says! You shouldn’t associate with twisted people that would warp your heart!

Iba: With that said, I interpreted it as advice to take action as per your beliefs, without lying to your own heart at all times.

Motoyama: That’s right! Just take action without lying to your own heart at all times-EEEEH?!

Iba: I cannot declare that their swords are tools of evil from just a glance. If I am to succeed Shingyoto Ryu, I cannot allow myself to be influenced by their general reputation, and let my eyes become cloudy in judging their swordmanship.

Motoyama: Hey, Iba! Where are you planning to go?!

Iba: I’ll go out for a bit. I apologize for being unable to accompany you. I’ll leave things here to you.

Motoyama: Wait, calm down! Rethink this, hey!!

  Track 5: Shieikan

 Motoyama: Hey, Iba. Do you seriously plan to go? You can still turn back!

Iba: Why are you coming with me? Wouldn’t it be better for you to go back if you don’t wish to get involved with them?

Motoyama: Because I’m worried about you, obviously! When you decide on something you become unable to see anything around you…

Iba: Ah, the building over there must be Shieikan. Seems like someone is taking a bath in open air there…

-rustle, water splash-

Shinpachi: Haa…It’s such nice weather today, but one can’t do anything when one doesn’t have any money! Don’t you think so, Sano?

Sano: Yeah. Me, of all people, not drinking any sake for half a month…something like this has never happened before! Maybe I should try to find some work in the district to get money for drinking.

Heisuke: What work are you planning to do?

Sano: There’s a bunch of stuff to do. Working as a debt collector, or as the bouncer of a bar…

Heisuke: Wouldn’t it be better for you to give up? Knowing you, Sano-san, you’d lose your temper and punch a guest. Rather than doing a bouncer’s job, I can clearly visualize you being the one to create a ruckus.

Sano: Heisuke, that’s rude! Even like this, I’m famous for having calmed down a lot compared to my youth, you know?

Shinpachi: Isn’t that simply you being overly terrible when you were young?

Sano: What’re you saying, Shinpachi. It’s not like you can keep your cool either.

Iba: Excuse me, there is something I’d like to ask…May I?

Heisuke: Ah, who are you guys?

Sano: Debt collectors…? Doesn’t seem like that. Could it be…dojo applicants?!

Shinpachi: Seriously?! Lately we’ve had our disciple count go down, so we’d be happy to have you! Welcome to Shieikan!

Motoyama: No thanks! We’re actually-

Shinpachi: Hmm? I think I recognize the young man there. Have we met somewhere?      

Iba: Me? Um…

Heisuke: For now let’s continue this conversation inside. Kondou-san and the others are out, but they should be back soon.

Motoyama: Like we said, we aren’t applicants-

Iba: Motoyama, let’s explain later. I don’t think any of it will enter their ears now.

Motoyama: Seems that way. Boohoohoo, why did things turn out like this…

02:26

-heavy sound-

Sano: Rejoice, Saitou! The new applicants we’ve waited for so long have come!

Saitou: Hmm. You are…?

Heisuke: What’s with that reaction? Could it be that they are your acquaintances, Hajime-kun?

Saitou: Never mind if I know them or not, that person is the heir to Renbukan.

Shinpachi: OH! I thought I had seen you somewhere, but you’re him, right? The Iba kid?

Iba: Did we meet somewhere?

Shinpachi: I used to train with Tsubouchi-san from Shingyoto Ryu! We must have met several times during that time.

Iba: Ah, I remember! It was Nagakura-san, right? You were famous for being undefeated!

Shinpachi: Yeah! I’m honored that you remember me!

Heisuke: Sheesh, if you guys have met then don’t forget. You really don’t pay attention to anything other than swordplay, Shinpachi-san.

Shinpachi: Why are you here today? Could it be that you came here for an inter-school match? (T/N: “taryuujiai”, contest between followers of different schools of swordmanship)      

Iba: No…it’d take some time to explain…

Saitou: It’d be better to leave the explanation for after Kondou-san and Hijikata-san come back. They should be returning from degeiko (T/N: training at another dojo) soon.

Heisuke: Oh, speak of the devil...

Hijikata: -slides door- Hey, you hoodlums, I understand your desire to take open baths with how hot it is, but don’t leave your shit lying around outside! Oh? You are…

Okita: Isn’t it the young master from the other day. What did you come here for? If you’re trying to take over our dojo I’m up for facing you, though.

Iba: There is something I must relay to you all. Will you please listen to me?

Hijikata: It seems like it’s going to be long conversation. -sighs- We’re going to put away our tools, so wait for a bit.

Iba: Understood.

  Track 6: Warning

 Hijikata: I see. I understand what you have to say. Those men are trying to get back at us, right?

Iba: Yes. You should be careful while recruiting.

Hijikata: Thanks for going through the trouble to inform us. We’ll do something about this on our own.

Motoyama: Is that so?! Then we’re going to take our leave…Let’s go, Iba!

Iba: Isn’t there something we can do?

Motoyama: Iba…

Hijikata: What do you mean?

Iba: We’re the reason you have become the target for the grudge of those roushi. You wouldn’t have gotten into this if you hadn’t rescued us back then.

Hijikata: We just did it out of our own will. You guys don’t need to feel responsible for this.

Iba: We won’t be satisfied that way.

Okita: What we’re gonna have from now on isn’t a dojo match, but an actual fight. Your sophisticated swordmanship won’t be of any use here.

Iba: We won’t know until we actually try. I don’t plan to lose in a swordfight.

Hijikata: Hey, you are-

Iba: If you won’t allow me to fight together with you, I will face them on my own.

Hijikata: What stupid things are you saying? It’d only be a bother if someone like you loitered around while we’re fighting them.

01:27

Kondou: Wait, Toshi. He isn’t saying this lightly, so let’s listen to his words properly.  Iba-kun, if you lend us a hand regarding this matter, wouldn’t it trouble your house and your dojo?

Iba: I believe this battle is for the right reasons, and turning away from it would be against the principles of Shingyoto Ryu.

Kondou: Is your father, master of Shingyoto Ryu, also agreeable with this?

Iba: I haven’t obtained his consent yet, but I will definitely convince him.

Hijikata: Sheesh, he’s extremely stubborn.

Kondou: Isn’t it great that he has a strong sense of responsibility? Besides, there’s no chance of defeat if you’re there with him, Toshi. He’s asking that much, why not reward his spirit?

Hijikata: Saying that so easily…If you’re asking us that much, I don’t mind allowing you to fight alongside us.

Iba: Really?

Hijikata: However, when up against people like that, regular methods don’t work. I will have you follow my guidance for the battle, are you okay with that?

Iba: I accept that.

Hijikata: Got it. If we get any news of them making a move I’ll let you know immediately.

Iba: Alright. I’ll also investigate a little more about the roushi involved in this incident. With that, I’ll take my leave for today-

Shinpachi: Hey hey, wait a minute! You went to the trouble of coming to the dojo, going back without doing anything would be such a shame!

Iba: Could you be thinking of….a match?

Okita: I don’t mind a match or whatever. The idea of breaking your nose sounds fun.

Iba: Understood. It’s not something that would break so easily, but I’ll accept that invitation.

Shinpachi: Alright!! Then I’m gonna collect the necessary tools, wait here! -hurriedly rushes out-

Sano: Sheesh, he’s super pumped up about it, that swordplay maniac.

  Track 7: Sword skills

 Shinpachi: Well then, let’s decide who is gonna fight first!

Okita: Since this is a rare inter-school match, I’m gonna go first. That’s okay, right Kondou-san?

Kondou: Yeah, it’s fine. Go ahead and give him a chance to practice with you.

Okita: Iba-kun, wasn’t it? What do the followers of Shingyuto Ryu use? Shinai, or Bokuto?

*T/N: Shinai are strips of bamboo bound together into a straight sword-like shape. You can be hit with them and you won't mind too much, although in kendo you wear armor because it's still much harder than say one of those foam boffer weapons. Bokuto, also called bokken, are wood, generally shaped much more like a katana (curved, rather than straight, sometimes tapering) and they sometimes try to balance like one as well. If you're hit with a bokken, you're not happy, you've got broken bones or at least deep bruising. So you can use shinai to train with contact, but not bokken unless everyone involved is very good and pulling their blows. Bokken are more likely to be used for solo forms or slowly for partner forms where everyone knows what's going to happen. You would never use a shinai for forms, because they're just not swordlike enough - if there's no danger of hurting someone else, you use a bokken or an iaito or an actual sword.                                            

Iba: Shinai, but personally I’m okay with Bokuto too.

Okita: You’re quite laid-back. I’ll try to hold back, but maybe I should apologize beforehand anyway. In case I end up injuring you, sorry.

Hijikata: “Sorry” won’t cut it! Do it in a way that won’t cause injuries. What would you do if you damaged our dojo’s reputation even more?

Kondou: The referee can be…Saitou-kun, may I ask you?

Saitou: Alright. Both of you, take position. Start!

-wooden swords clash-

Heisuke: What is that guy…he’s fighting equally with Souji!

Sano: Oh? He’s quite something. He shouldn’t be used to handling a bokuto, but you can’t feel that at all.

Shinpachi: Hachiro’s skills have become so much better than the time I was at Tsubouchi-san’s place! Ah, my body is itching from just watching!

Kondou: That’s some outstanding talent. Being able to master this level of sword techniques at such a young age, he might grow up to become one of the best in Edo-no, maybe in all of Hinamoto. (T/N: Edo is the former name of Tokyo, and Hinomoto is an old name for the country of Japan)

Hijikata: Maybe he will.

Saitou: Strike one! Round over.

  Track 8: Feast

 Kondou: I have to say, you really showed us a good match today. I’m really sorry we cannot offer better hospitality than this, but please enjoy yourself.

Iba: Not at all! I gratefully accept. I didn’t think you’d even go to the trouble of inviting me to dinner…

Okita: I don’t know if this will suit the mouths of the young masters who are used to delicious food all the time.

Motoyama: No…It’s not like that…We hardly ever get the chance to eat daikon radishes this withered, we’ll take our time savoring it…hahaha…

Sano: Kondou-san, can we really drink this sake?

Kondou: Yeah, of course. But after serving it to the guests.

Sano: I know that! You were named Motoyama, right? You like sake?

Motoyama: Eh, sake?! Well, I’d say I like it…

Sano: It seems like you can drink. Alright, drink up! -pours-

Motoyama: Ah, thank you for this!

Iba: Um, it might be a good idea to not make Motoyama drink too much…

Sano: It’s fine! He’s not a kid, and he should know his own limits, right?

Iba: It would be great if that was the case…

Motoyama: -gulps- Buha! DELICIOUS! It soaks into the depths of my stomach!

Sano: You drink well! Seems like there’s no need to hold back. Keep drinking, here!

Motoyama: Aah…thanks, thanks. Then I’m going to drink without reservations…

01:35

Heisuke: Even so, you have some amazing skills. Souji fighting someone equally on their first visit to the dojo is something that hasn’t happened since Hajime-kun came to the dojo.

Saitou: You cannot compare me, a left-handed person, with him, who is right-handed, using the same standards.

Iba: It’s nothing big, really. I’m still in the initial stages of learning.

Sano: They’re complimenting you, just accept it. Saitou’s eyes are very accurate when it comes to swordsmanship.

Iba: But…

Shinpachi: By the way, when did you start learning swordsmanship? Must be during your childhood, right?

Heisuke: He’s the heir of Shingyuto Ryu, so obviously! Don’t you have any fun stories?  

Iba: That’s…uh…My real father also did swordsmanship, so I had chances to hold a shinai ever since childhood, but I seriously chose this path after visiting a samurai house belonging to a friend of my father’s. Seeing a painting of Miyamoto Musashu in that samurai house, I was struck by a feeling that was like a lightning.

Hijikata: Hmm…

Heisuke: Miyamoto Musashu’s painting,..? That’s kinda amazing.

Sano: Sounds like a young master of Hatamoto. What a sophisticated reason.

Shinpachi: Well, compared to you who was about to die after trying to commit seppuku, anyone’s reason would seem sophisticated.

Iba: Eh? About to die after trying to commit seppuku?

Heisuke: Shinpachi-san, you idiot! Don’t say unnecessary things! He’s going to start with the usual rant again! Oh, shit.

Sano: What, you want to hear about it so badly? Then I guess I gotta talk! First let me show you the scar from the straight line carved onto my stomach! When I was still at my home back in Matsuyama, I carved this scar onto myself by cutting open my stomach. -his voice becomes distant-

03:32

Kondou: He’s such a rare candid youngster. It’s admirable how on top of his aspirations for swordsmanship, he possesses the openness needed to accept the advice of others. There’s nothing lacking in him both in his swordsmanship skills or his character as a person, so I’m looking forward to his future.

Hijikata: He does have the type of character you would like.

Kondou: What, Toshi, you don’t like him? I think you have a good eye for people’s character, though.

Hijikata: It’s not that I don’t like him…

Kondou: It’s not that you don’t like him…and?

Hijikata: Nothing, forget it. Rather than that, Kondou-san, you said that in addition to studying swordsmanship, it’s also important to be honest and open, but don’t we have a bunch of people this doesn’t apply to? For example, a certain person who keeps harassing me every single day without getting tired of it?

Okita: I wonder who you’re referring to?

Hijikata: You, obviously! Who else is there?

Okita: I don’t remember anything like that~ I respect Hijikata-san so much.

Hijikata: You’ve got a lot of nerve saying that.

Kondou: Toshi, what are you saying? Souji is a very honest kid.

Hijikata: Well he might be honest in front of you, but,-sound of a crash- What the-? Did someone flip off the table?

Motoyama: -In the first place, I felt that there’s something wrong with the bigwigs at the Shogunate! I thought that for the longest time!

Shinpachi: Right? None of them really think about Hinomoto or its people!

Motoyama: Yeah exactly! But nobody would listen to what a young brat like me says…

Iba: Aah…this is why I asked you to not have Motoyama drink too much…

Sano: Don’t lose hope, Motoyama! Who else would beat those bigwigs into shape if not you?

Motoyama: Really? I wonder if I can do it…

Heisuke: Of course ya can do it! There’s no one other than you who’s gonna shoulder and support the Shogunate in the future!

Motoyama: Okay, I’ve got it -stands up and gulps more sake-

Iba: Motoyama why are you taking off your kimono?! Could it be-seppuku?!

Motoyama: Aaah don’t stop me! I’m determined to give my life for the future of Hinomoto!

Shinpachi: Alright! Show your determination to those bastards who don’t care for Hinomoto! I’ll clean up the blood on the ground!

Iba: Nagakura-sama, don’t agitate him! Motoyama would really try to do it!

Hijikata: Sheesh, what are they doing…

Track 9: The fight that was asked for

 Hijikata: I see. People saw a suspicious group of men hanging around near Kasenjiki at Tamagawara, hmm?

Saitou: Yes. From the information gathered from the villagers of Kinrin, there is the possibility of them being the roushi from the other day.

Heisuke: -door opens- Hijikata-san! Hachiro came.

Hijikata: Send him here.

Heisuke: Ok, got it! -door closes-

Iba: -footsteps, door opens- Sorry I’m late.

Motoyama: I hope it’s okay that I also came… I probably won’t be of much help, though…

Hijikata: Sorry to have called you all the way out here. For now take a seat there.

Iba: Okay. Is it true that you received a duel invitation from those roushi?

Hijikata: Yeah. “Come to the Tamagawa river in the evening”, it said. We were about to discuss the strategy for that.

Iba: Is that a map of the duel location? Why do you have that?

Hijiakata: Investigating the area obviously has to be done beforehand. That has been true since the oldest days of war.

Iba: Okay…

Hijikata: Around here there should be a number of bypaths that a single person can sneak through. If the road width is narrow, it’d be possible to shorten distance with an opponent there. Harada!

01:26

Sano: So we’re setting up an ambush there? Leave it to me!

Hijikata: I’m glad you’re good at catching onto things. Shinpachi, Heisuke, you went around investigating at nearby dojos, right? What did you find?

Heisuke: Some thug-like people have been loitering around dojos in Edo. They have been accosting the disciples from all the famous dojos, one after another, and also some people from Hokushin Itto Ryu dojos.

Shinpachi: Also get this, the dojos the thug-like guys have been loitering around are dojos that have people who practice archery. It’s possible that the enemy has members who use bows.

Hijikata: Bows, huh. I see. Around this season there should be the grass by the riverside should be pretty thick. We would have to fight while hiding ourselves there. Things would get dangerous if we don’t make taking the archers down our priority. How many enemies are there?

Saitou: From what we know, around ten.

Iba: (These people are…)

Hijikata: Ten people, hmm…We won’t have good footing by the riverside…Heisuke, provide backup and don’t engage with the enemies much.

Heisuke: Why?! Are you planning to not give me any chance to act?

Hijikata: When fighting people from the Hokushin Itto Ryu, a place with bad footing would work against you. (T/N: The Hokushin Itto-ryu is a very intense dueling style, which focuses on simple and fast techniques where no unnecessary movements are made.)

Heisuke: That is true, but I don’t like this.

Okita: Heisuke can just take care of the guys we let escape.

Heisuke: What’re you saying? I don’t plan to go against Hijikata-san’s plan, but I don’t want to be in your favor either, Souji!

03:06

Iba: (Hijikata-san can see all possible developments related to this battle. Taking enemy movements and both best and worst case scenarios, he’s thinking up possible countermeasures. He’s just like a war general.)

Hijikata: While our goal will obviously be to bring down the enemies, in case you let any escape, chase them to the trail where Harada will be waiting in ambush. Drill the contents of this map into your brain, and make sure you don’t forget where you’ll be fighting.

Shinpachi, Harada, Heisuke, Okita, Saitou: Yes sir!

Iba: Please wait! Will you please give me a support role as well?

Hijikata: This is our fight, you aren’t involved. -That’s what I’d normally say, but you wouldn’t listen to me if I did, anyway.

Iba: Yes, of course!

Hijikata: Got it. Come with me. I’ll give you a role on our way. I’ll have you show me what you’ve got.

Motoyama: Is this okay, Iba? In case something happened…

Iba: It’s okay. I don’t understand why, but somehow I feel like I won’t lose when I’m with them.

Hijikata: Well then, let’s go! We’ll give them the fight they asked for tenfold!

Track 10: Battle in the riverbed

 Thug 1: You finally came. We were growing tired of waiting. We’ll pay you back in double for the other day!

Hijikata: I could’ve ignored a challenge for a duel like that, but having lowly flies loitering around is also extremely irritating. So I gotta squash the vermin as soon as I can.

Thug 1: Stop fucking around! You’re the ones who’ll get squashed! -draws sword-

Hijikata: So you’re drawing your swords. -draws sword- Everyone!

Heisuke: Got it! -swords clash-

Random Thug A: Damn you! -runs away-

Heisuke: Shinpachi-san, he went that way!

Shinpachi: Of all the places you had to run towards where I was at. There should be a limit to how bad someone’s luck can be. Well, luck is also an ability, so don’t blame me! -overwhelms with heavy sword attacks-

Random Thug A: What the hell is this strength!? Damn, at this rate…! Take this!

01:13

Saitou: Shinpachi, dodge!

Shinpachi: Whoa! -arrow zooms past-

Saitou: Carelessness is one’s greatest enemy. You were the one who mentioned that there were archers among them.

Shinpachi: It can’t be helped. I didn’t think anyone would be rude enough to butt into a one-to-one fight between men!

Saitou: The arrow came from that way. From the precious aim towards you earlier, I’d guess the archer is most likely the shadow on top of that tree there.

Heisuke: You can sure see something like even in this darkness, Hajime-kun.

Saitou: Leave the handling of the archers to me. I will definitely get rid of them.

Shinpachi: Sheesh, you always swoop up the best parts. But anyhow, I’m counting on you, Saitou!

Saitou: Got it. -leaves-

-swords clash, a thug is being dominated-

02:02

Okita: Come on, done already? I’m getting bored from the utter lack of resistance. If you have confidence in your own abilities, come at me! -swoops in, swords clash-

Random Thug B: What the hell is up with these monsters? Hey, surround this guy! We’ll get him from all sides! Killing him is fine!

Okita: Kill? Haha, you say such funny things. There is only one person in this world who can win against me. -sword clash, enemies scream-

Random Thug C: Shit, it’s no use, we practically can’t do anything!

Archer Thug: What the hell are those monster-like people?! But they won’t be able to defend when aimed at by arrows from afar. -draws bowstring- Prepare ourselves!

Saitou: Sorry, but your opponent is me.

Archer Thug: What!? You bastard, when did you get so close?

Saitou: I can’t deny that you have a good understanding of the advantages of your weapon and its usage, but being so overcome with bloodlust that you fail to notice enemy presence means you’re still inexperienced.

Archer Thug: Stuff your bullshit! -aims and fires bow at Saitou, arrow is broken by Saitou- Whoa! He cut off the arrow I shot? -Saitou has him at swordpoint in a blink- I didn’t see the moment when he drew his sword!

Saitou: Do you still intend to oppose us? Then I will be your opponent as much as you want. Though I do not know if I’ll be able to stop my sword at the last possible moment next time.

Archer Thug: I understand! I’ll throw my weapon away, so please, don’t do anything more!

Saitou: Wise decision.

03:58

Heisuke: -swords clash- Iyaa!

Random Thug D: -gasping-

Heisuke: Haha, seems like you’re out of breath! Are you at your limit?

Random Thug D: -pants- I can still keep going!

Heisuke: You’re bad at giving up. Well, in that case I’m gonna keep you company though! -swords clash-

Random Thug D: Smug brat! -trips Heisuke-

Heisuke: Argh!

Random Thug D: Hahaha, who’s the one who let down their guard now?!

Heisuke: You bastard with your sneaky legs!

Random Thug D: -laughs weakly while running away-

Iba: Wait! Where are you trying to go?

Random Thug D: There’s no one stupid enough to wait because he was told to! This isn’t a match, but a fight!

Iba: I definitely won’t let you escape!

Random Thug D: If I remember right, there should be a bypath around here!

Sano: So it’s finally my turn.

Random Thug D: What? You…

Sano: Sheesh, I was getting worried that I have been waiting in vain, but thanks for chasing him all the way here, Hachiro.

Iba: If you want to thank someone, thank the person who considered this scenario.

Sano: -slams thug with weapon-

Random Thug D: Gah! -collapses-

05:20

Sano: Now then, that took care of one of them. I wonder if the others are also done?

Iba: Yeah. I’ll go check how they are doing.

Sano: I’m counting on you! Though I don’t think we need to worry.

Hijikata: Hmm. Your guys from earlier not coming back means that you’re the only one remaining. If you want to apologize now is the chance.

Thug 1: You bastard…

Okita: Oh well, if he was the type to retreat from this, he wouldn’t pick a fight with us in the first place.

Hijikata: With that said, I don’t like the idea of ganging up on him with all of us. How about a one-to-one fight to settle things?

Thug 1: One-to-one fight?

Okita: That’s not like you, Hijikata-san. There’s no need to show kindness to a man like that.

Hijikata: It’s annoying be thought of as being unable to fight without unfair means. How about it?

Thug 1: Got it! Let’s fight one-on-one, just as you said!

Hijikata: In that case, come at me from wherever.

Thug 1: Grr, don’t underestimate me! -swords clash, grunts-

06:45

Shinpachi: Oh, he’s much stronger than I thought. I guess he didn’t thoughtlessly pick a fight with us.

Iba: (Nagakura-san is correct, but Hijikata-san’s technique is obviously superior. More than anything, the enemy is getting tired.)

Thug 1: -grunts, has his sword blocked-

Hijikata: Well then, let’s bring this fight to an end!

Thug 1: You said it!

Iba: (!! That Roushi pulled out something from inside his sleeve! Could it be…!!

Iba: Toshi-san, look out!

Hijikata: I know!

Heisuke: What the heck is up with this guy? He was hiding a short knife!

Sano: What a despicable fellow. There really was no reason to play nice.

Thug 1: No, I just did it on an impulse…!

Hijikata: Aren’t duels supposed to be fair? What’s the meaning of this?

Thug 1: If you’re gonna say that, aren’t you also unfair for coming with such a big group?!

Iba: Wasn’t this a fight instead of a duel to you? So we just adopted our approach to that.

Hijikata: I see. So he wasn’t just a hardheaded young master.

  Track 11: Triumphant return

 Motoyama: Iba! What happened with the Roushi? You didn’t get hurt, did you?

Iba: As you can see, we are all safe. We can expect those Roushi to never show their face around here again.

Motoyama: Oh, is that so? Thank god…

Iba: Everyone, I sincerely apologize for troubling you so much regarding this matter.

Kondou: No, don’t worry. Running a swordplay dojo means ruckus like this a common thing.

Shinpachi: Yeah yeah, nobody thinks of it as a trouble!

Heisuke: Rather it was fun to get to cut loose.

Iba: It relieves me that you think so.

Hijikata: Now that things are settled, shouldn’t you be getting back? I don’t think they will try to attack, but I’ll walk you part of the way.

Iba: We will be okay. We can protect ourselves.

Motoyama: Yeah yeah! Absolutely no need to worry!

Okita: You say that, but who were those people that were surrounded by thugs during our first meeting?

Iba: That’s…

Hijikata: Don’t be so formal. Besides, there are things that I want to talk about on the way. It’ll be just a stroll.

Iba: Is that so? Understood.

Saitou: Hijikata-san, will you be okay alone?

Hijikata: Yeah, I’ll depend on you to take care of the place while I’m gone. (To Iba) Let’s go then. If you’re too late the people at your dojo will worry.

  Track 12: Secret things

 Iba: Really, thank you so much for today. I got to have a nice experience I can’t have in the dojo.

Motoyama: (whispering) Yeah…an experience that we can hardly ever have…or more like, one that we’re better off not having…

Hijikata: What do you mean by “nice experience”? Here I’m trembling from imagining how the people at your dojo would chew me up saying “Don’t make our heir do unnecessary things!”

Iba: It’s fine. We’re also a swordsmanship dojo, we’re not as sophisticated as you think.

Hijikata: You’re a strange one. From the point of view of a Hatamoto young master, we shouldn’t be any different from stray dogs.

Iba: I believe what I see with my own eyes. I find some people with high status unworthy of respect, and also vice versa. It might be slightly different from the way samurais usually think, though.

Hijikata: I’m sorry. You seem to be different from the rotten samurais I confused you with.          

Iba: No no, you don’t have to apologize…

Hijikata: I do. At this age, getting jealous of someone nearly a decade younger and venting my frustration on him is so pathetic.

Iba: Jealousy?

01:45

Hijikata: Kondou-san and I were originally just sons of farmers. It would’ve been normal for me to do farmwork or maybe trade at most, but because of my nature neither of those worked out. The stupid dream to become a warrior has brought me to this wretched state today.

Iba: I don’t think it’s a stupid dream.

Hijikata: If you’re trying to console me, there’s no need.

Iba: This isn’t flattery! Even among people born in samurai families, I doubt there are many on your level who can develop such precise plans. In the actual battlefield, I think people like you are the ones who can be relied upon.

Hijikata: Sheesh, how do you keep dishing out those embarrassing compliments? I’m not that much of a great person.

Iba: Eh, but…

Hijikata: The person who’s actually great is Kondou-san. Even though he was born a commoner just like me, he polished his sword skills until he finally became a real warrior. Compared to that person, I’m nothing more than a spoiled thug.

Iba: I see.

Hijikata: Personally I don’t care about things like leaving my name in history or succeeding as a master swordman, but Kondou-san isn’t someone who should stop at being the owner of a small dojo like this. He definitely should go out to the world. I believe in today’s society, people like Kondou-san are the ones who are worthy of being called a true warrior.

Iba: You truly hold Kondou-san in the highest regard, don’t you?

Hijikata: It sounds cheaper when I try to put everything in words.

Iba: -chuckle- “Some things are better left unsaid”, I suppose?

Hijikata: Hey, don’t tell Kondou-san what I said just now. Don’t tell the guys at Shieikan, either. Got it?

Iba: Of course. I wouldn’t do something so rude.

Hijikata: Is that so? Then okay. -keeps walking-

03:57

Iba: That reminds me, I must thank you.

Hijikata: What? Didn’t you thank us earlier already?

Iba: It’s regarding a different matter. Um…I wonder where I should start from. The other day, when I was invited for dinner, do you remember what I said regarding the incident that encouraged me to pursue swordsmanship?

Hijikata: Yeah, something about the drawing of Miyamoto Musashi…that?

Iba: I mentioned that in front of everyone, but to tell the truth, that wasn’t the real reason. The actual reason I aspired to learn swordsmanship was…to protect a certain person.

Hijikata: Hmm, a woman?

Iba: Wha-how did you know it was a female?

Hijikata: It’s no secret. Everywhere around the world, women are the ones men need to protect, obviously.  

Iba: I guess…that indeed is true.

Hijikata: You look like a late-bloomer, but you’ve started getting involved with women already? Be careful, when serious men fall into bad habits they forget the proper conduct.

Iba: It’s not like that. The story is of a time long ago, and the other person probably has forgotten about the likes of me by now. How many years has it been? Probably almost a decade.

Hijikata: A fiancée, or a childhood friend?

Iba: No, we just played together a number of times.

Hijikata: It’s pretty impressive how you’re still taken with a woman that you met during your childhood.

Iba: Is it strange after all?

Hijikata: It’s not. It just means you were a man even when you were a kid.

06:03

Iba: The thing you said to me before- “you won’t be able to protect a single thing with such weak determination”- really struck a chord within me. If she had actually been in that place, I’m not sure if I could’ve managed to protect her or not. I keenly realized that there were many things I still needed to learn. …So it’s okay for me to keep visiting Shieikan from now on, right?

Hijikata: HUH?! Wait a minute! Don’t you have a dojo that you’re supposed to succeed?

Motoyama: That’s right! What’re you saying, Iba?

Iba: It’s not like we are forbidden to study at other dojos, and father also most likely won’t be against it.

Motoyama: Well, it’s true that Gunbei-san might find this amusing…

Hijikata: Sheesh, you won’t listen even if I say no, right?

Iba: Yes, of couse, Toshi-san!

Hijikata: Sheesh, I got close to a troublesome guy. Oh well, there is no helping it….By the way, Hachiro. There is something that has been bugging me.

Iba: Yes, what is it?

Hijikata: Won’t you do something about the way you call me?

Iba: Eh, is it strange? Kondou-san also did the same…

Hijikata: It’s not strange, but…How do I put it…Being called by my given name is kinda…

Iba: Eh, is that so? But you also call me Hachiro, Toshi-san. Besides, using actual names has a deeper feeling of familiarity, and makes me feel closer to you.

Hijikata: Shit, just do whatever you want.

Iba: Yes! Please take care of me from now on, Toshi-san! -footsteps-

(And this is how we became acquainted with the people affiliated with Shieikan. Of course, back then neither Motoyama nor I could imagine that one day they would be called the Shinsengumi. Still, compared to us who were born in samurai families, their earnest eyes, and their figure as they fought without looking back, appeared to be much closer to a true warrior.)

 Iba Hachiro- Miyano Mamoru

Hijikata Toshizo- Miki Shinichirou

Okita Souji- Morikubo Shoutarou

Saitou Hajime- Toriumi Kousuke

Todou Heisuke- Yoshino Hiroyuki

Harada Sanosuke- Yusa Kouji

Nagakura Shinpachi- Tsuboi Tomohiro

Kondou Isami- Ookawa Tooru

Motoyama Koutaro- Hatano Wataru

Roushi- Yoshimura Kazuhiro

Rosuhi- Fujisawa Yuki

Roushi- Nagase Yuu

Roushi- Murakami Kazuya

*Last 4 are thug voices.

[londonspirit]

One Last Time...

... for this year, that is! (Hopefully they sort their Brexit shit out soon, otherwise I have no clue when I can be back!) 

Anyhow, this trip was wonderful, mad and all around fantastic! (the usual then! *grins*) 

Flew over with my friend S., and naturally we had a one hour delay to start our vacation (we do have a bad travel karma, me thinks, not the first time). And sadly that was the reason I (again) didn’t managed to meet up with my L, cause she only had about an hour between engagements, and that was exactly the hour our flight was late. (Here’s hope we’ll manage another meet-up soon’ish before she goes back to the States, it’s been too long and I really miss her!) 

Upon arrival it was raining! Boo! But after dropping off our luggage and finding us dinner, we didn’t want to go to bed (afternoon flight there, evening arrival) so we decided to have a quick wander around. It had stopped raining which was perfect for a nightly walk.  Wow, even wet London is beautiful, and even more so at night. Streets were mostly empty (not empty enough to be scary tho) and we took much longer than expected.  Stumbled across filming by the side of the river - there were a few people in safety vests and we were already wondering when one approached us. He told us they were filming in a side alley, and not to worry, we could just walk past but shouldn’t stop. Of course we walked very slowly but we didn’t see much or anyone we knew. It was pretty dark, and all we say was a huge projection into the air. *shrugs* Still curious as to what was filmed there (we went there on the last day but no signs at all).  We were in bed way past midnight... (my usual London bed time!) 

Monday was HAMILTON DAY! But in the evening - we had the whole morning and early afternoon to explore some more!  So we went to Greenwich - by BOAT!! That was soo cool. I’ve taken one of the boats two years ago with Sis but only for a few stops, this time we went all the way. And even thought it’s not cheap (Oyster card does make it a bit cheaper tho), it’s totally worth it - the view from the water is amazing! And since the weather was still not very tourist friendly, we had the entire back to ourselves.  I can def recommend it - you see so much from that side. Plus, it’s quick, we were in Greenwich within 15 minutes!  Found coffee and walked up that hill to the observatory! The view was foggy but still amazing. And since the coffee didn’t want to go back to the city with us, we wandered inside to find a loo.  Did you know that you can go inside and check out a few of the rooms without having to pay? Cause I did NOT! And boy, is it cool inside. Loads to see, and touch, and just perfect for a grey and misty day. We spent 3 hours or so in there, bought souvenirs, checked out the old telescope inside, climbed small stairs, looked at all the time measure methods humanity had invented over the centuries, and had a great time!  After that we returned to the hostel to get ready for the evening. 

The smile on my face when I saw the Victoria Palace Theatre again was HUGE! I fucking LOVE this place soo much!!! Especially when it’s all lit in the dark!  Getting inside was just as smooth as ever! (And this time we even saw the dog, didn’t meet it tho as we arrived and were inside like 2 minutes later, despite a pretty long queue!)  Inside we walked around, looked at the Pretty all around and then we went to our seats. 

DUDE!!! I had booked a box back in January, but I had no idea that we would’ve had one all to ourselves. It’s just for TWO seats (not four as I expected), and it’s the coolest thing ever!  We got us drinks to pass the time (you can only take so many pics of that beautiful stage!), and once again the staff showed why they deserved all the praise! I got us two bottles of cider but since bottles aren’t allowed inside, two of the ushers made sure to fill it all into plastic cups! And when it all didn’t fit into two cups, they held the doors for me to bring it to the box and when I returned for the rest, they were already waiting for me! Those people are the real heroes! And everything with a smile and the loveliest attitude!!! 

And when it finally was time, I might have made noises. Being this close (with nobody in front of you, or behind you for that matter), being able to lean forward and chairdance, is the best thing ever!!! 

I was a bit sad that we didn’t get Obi or Jason, but Gabriel and Waylon did so well, it didn’t last long.  And boy, Mondays are an amazing day to go and see it! Every single soul on that stage was on FIRE!!! (Not sure whether that’s because they have the Sunday to recharge, or because some will have their last performances in the next weeks, but it was WORTH going  on a Monday!) 

I had booked that because I wanted to see Ash, as people kept raving about him (and I had seen Jam twice now). He did NOT disappoint.  His performance differs so much from Jam’s; not in a bad way, no. But he’s so into it, so ... THERE?! More intense?! Can’t really describe it. He’s fantastic. And being this close, seeing all those expressions, the cheek, the sass, the sadness, made this time so much better than the last two times.  Ash is incredible and sooo worth seeing! (although I missed the height difference between Jam and Rachelle, Ash is her height.) 

I was very happy that we got Giles, cause I’ve fallen fast and hard for his Burr!!! He’s put such a different twist on him, and once you got used to him, he IS Burr. What I love is that you can see all those little physical actions, he’s doing a lot with his body, and also with his face. Small things you miss when you’re further away. A raised eyebrow, a bitten lip, a suppressed grin. GOD, I will miss him soo much!!! There are times when I wanted to hug him and then there were times when I wanted to slap him. He’s such a great actor, and I will fight anyone who says differently!!!!! 

As for the rest of the cast, they were brilliant as usual; even though I really had the feeling everyone was giving even more than the 500% they already do!! SO DAMN AMAZING!!!  There was a big cheer for “Alexander Hamilton” in the beginning (as it should be), but weirdly NOTHING at the “Immigrants” line!!! O_O That shocked me a bit! I’ve been three times now, and I’ve had a different reactions every damn time! So weird!  Yorktown got an in between applause which I never seen/heard! Was very nice.  The King got all the laughs, naturally.  What else?  Oh, so Tarinn and Cleve are basically themselves in costumes on stage: they kept goofing around and grinning like idiots at themselves, which was adorable.  And I now know why people are shipping Laurens and Ham - the gazing loving at each other was INSANE!! *lol*  Rachel is madly talented but that you already know. That woman’s voice, her acting - GEEZ!! HOW?? So soo good!!!  Christine... god, that voice! Melted chocolate, poured over warm coals, making one feel all warm and fuzzy (and very sinful)  inside. GUH!!  Also: the ensemble blew me away, the perfection they put on that stage (night after night) is MAD!! I found myself watching them more and more, wondering how the human body is capable of the things they do and make it look easy as breathing!! WOW!!! 

It was over way too soon, and I even cried in the end. I have no idea where that came from but Rachelle really made me tear up during the last song. Never had that before. (And she’s the only one I’m still not fully convinced with; she’s good but this is NOT the perfect role for her)  So yeah, I did my final applause in tears!!! 

We stuck around towards the very end, and for the very first time, they let down the safety curtain!!! O_O (They did in the interval as well for a moment). 

And then it was stage door time. It’s all well organized and sorted, and we queued up and waited. It wasn’t cold so that wasn’t too bad. Didn’t take long for the first to come out. I didn’t want anything signed, only asked for pics which seemed fine with them all. Although they were all well prepared with sharpies! Kelly is TINY, and so very sweet, and sadly the only one of the girls who came out :-(  Waylon was a bit shy, but also very nice. Gabriel was dressed for artic temps which made me giggle.  Tarinn and Cleve are... well, Tarinn and Cleve! They’re always goofing around, being super sweet to everyone and really taking their time. Cleve enjoyed being the birthday boy, and wishing him a great one, got me a tight hug! Tarinn smells really good, by the way! *hehe*  At some point the security made an announcement. I think he said they were all gone, or nobody wouldn’t come out anymore; we could stay but at our own risk, or something like that. We were at the end of the queue and didn’t catch everything.  Since we didn’t have anywhere to go, we stayed. Which was the right thing to do!  First Giles came out, and that’s when I got a bit nervous! He’s so good, and I never managed to get a pic with him. He took his time, chatted to everyone and was all around the sweetest. Once he came to us, I told him how incredible he was and how much I loved the Muse Of Fire documentary he did ages ago. I think he blushed a bit ;-p When I asked for a pic, he pulled me real close and thanked ME afterwards!! O_O  Hach, he’s amazing!!  And then Ash came out as well (lots had left already so we were only a few people). And the silly man did NOT have a pen!  The ladies behind us asked if we had one. When I pulled out my assortment of sharpies (three: black, silver and bronze!) I ALWAYS have on me, they laughed so hard.  Hey, you can never be prepared enough - as that night taught us!!! Once again, we only asked for pics, and praised him, told him how fab he was, and that we booked a Monday just for him,, which made him laugh. “Heard of me, did ya?” he said, cheeky bugger. But yeah, we did. So we got another really tight pic - that cast is so touchy feely, I swear! I love them all to pieces!!! SO SWEET!  He chatted a bit before moving along.  We waited a bit longer but that was it so we reluctantly left towards ‘home’. (Once again, it was LATE!) 

The next morning we got up early to have one last walk around, and London was gracious and got out the sun and basically summer weather!  We didn’t want to leave but sadly we had to.  So long, my beautiful! See you next year - in February, for sure. After that... well, that depends on how you get your shit sorted!  Once more, a fantastic time was had, with the best company I could’ve wished for! Thank you, S, I know why I love traveling with you - here’s to our next time!!! 

[unchartedtravel-blog1]

40 Things You Should Know About London

By Bobby 

1. They drive on the wrong side of the road.

2. They curse. A lot.

3. They have more of a mixed racial population than I’ve ever seen before! Italians, the Dutch, Germans, Portuguese, Spaniards, the French, Thai, Indians, Chinese, and Japanese. While perusing the roads of London, I think at times I heard more different languages spoken than I heard English!

4. London. Is. Hot. (at least for the 10 days I was there). Londoners don’t really wear shorts – it’s usually the Americans that you see wearing them. As a tourist, from all the walking, you’ll want to dress lightly, but at the same time appropriately. Be careful with layers. Just saying. It’s a hot city.

5. Speaking of which, air conditioning seems to be rare. Your only options for A/C are modern (AND I STRESS THAT) hotels, restaurants and cafes, and museums.

6. Trafalgar Square. It’s pronounced “Truh-FAL-guh” with emphasis on the “FAL”.

7. Traffic is scary. Be careful of the fast cars in narrow streets, the double-decker buses, and bicyclists! My first few days, I was almost hit by double-decker buses 10 times. Traffic is crazy, they drive aggressively, and they drive on the wrong side of the road. Add all those together, and you have a disaster for Americans.

8. When crossing the road, LOOK RIGHT, THEN LEFT. Because of #7.

9. Use the Barclay Bikes. Use them use them use them. They are all throughout the city available for rental with over 500 bike stations. Not only are there plenty of them, but they are very affordable. Just be careful, and make sure you use the bike lanes and understand the traffic laws. It gets quite scary at times when you have cars zooming past you just inches away from your bike.

10. London Bridge is Falling Down. This is not the bridge you are picturing right now. That bridge is actually called “Tower Bridge”. London Bridge is quite plain looking, and is one bridge over from Tower Bridge. Speaking of bridges, you should spend a morning and walk up and down each of the bridges over the River Thames. There are great views of London from these bridges!

11. “Cheers Mate” means “Thanks, friend!” Use it! It will make you feel AWESOME when you use it. I know I did.

12. Gloucester and Leicester. DO NOT SAY “Glau-ses-ter” or “Lay-ses-ter”. It’s pronounced “Gloh-stuh” and “Lee-stuh”. Yes, it’s pronounced like that.

13. YOU CAN DRINK ALCOHOL IN PUBLIC! Yes! It’s true! Meal idea: get a sandwich, beer, and crisps, find the nearest park, or find a place along the Thames, and enjoy your meal there! Be careful though, in the City of Westminster it isn’t allowed. Westminster is inside of London.

14. The zig-zag lines in the road mean something. I’m not sure what they mean, but they mean something. What I do know is that the black cabs are not allowed to pull over on a zig-zag line.

15. Speaking of roads, the traffic lights are different. They change from red to yellow to green to red.

16. The London Tube is the underground rail system in London. It’s an easy system to get used to and if you’re in London for a week, I recommend buying a 6-day Travelers Card to use on the Tube for £35 British Pounds.

17. Be ready to see Maserati, Bentley, BMW, Mercedes, Porsche, Ferrari, and Aston Martin. Those high-end vehicles are a common sight around London. I giggle with glee every time I see one of those beautiful creations driving down the roads.

18. London has a depressing past, and is basically built on top of a massive grave-site. The city was almost destroyed three times. First time was the infamous Great or Bubonic Plague, second time was the Great Fire of London in 1666, and the third was the Blitz, or the Bombings of London by Germany in WWII. Thus you will see a wonderful mix of architectural styles, and at times one on building! Oh, on some of the underground rail routes, you feel the trains take a sharp turn. These are due to the bodies buried compactly together, and the engineers couldn’t remove the bodies for worries of the road and buildings collapsing above the ground. Waaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaat?

19. Double-decker buses are awesome. They’re awesome because they’re a constant reminder that “Hey, I’m in London.”

20. There is no real “British Accent”. You can probably just make one up, and the Brits will just assume you’re from another part of the Kingdom. You’ve got the Australian accent, New Zealand (and Kiwi) accent, South African accent, British-Indian accent, Irish accent, Northern Irish accent, South English, London English, the Queen’s English, RP English, Posh English, Cockney accent, Manchester accent, Coventry accent, Welsh accent, Scottish accent, and so many more. And don’t speak with a posh, or RP accent. It’s usually spoken by the older generation. In fact, QEII uses her own accent called the Queen’s English which is still somewhat posh.

21. British food is…unique. I’d recommend trying out the vast choices of ethnic foods around the city. Indian, Thai, Korean, Chinese, and Italian are always great places to try.

22. Speaking of British food…they like to put sausage in EVERYTHING. Everywhere you go, sausages are on the menu. I guess it’s a good thing if you like sausages for breakfast, but for lunch and dinner as well?

23. Lemonade in the UK. It’s basically Sprite or Schweppes.

24. Museums. London is filled with museums. You’ve got the British Museum (where I spent 4 long hours), Imperial War Museum, Natural History Museum, Tate Modern, Tate Britain, Greenwich Visitor Centre, Tower of London, London Transport Museum, Museum of London, National Gallery, Victoria and Albert Museum, are among the best! But don’t visit all of them – you’ll start to hate the museums, and it will be an expensive vacation if you do visit them all.

25. Castles/Palaces. Being a European city, there are plenty of castles to visit. Some of the more popular castles and palaces are Buckingham Palace, Tower of London, Clarence House, Windsor Castle, Hampton Court Palace, and Kensington Palace. Pick and choose, pick and choose.

26. The Globe Theatre. It’s not the original.

27. Dining in is expensive. However, there are plenty of affordable options when it comes to restaurants in London. Chinatown/SOHO is one place to find those options (just don’t stay there past 9pm). Also, unlike the U.S., servers in London will not do anything for you other than bring your food, beverage, and check. In the U.S., servers can get quite annoying when checking up on you every 5 minutes. I prefer the London way. Just leave me alone and let me dine.

28. I hate the £1 coin, and so will you. British money makes just as little sense as U.S. currency. The 2 pence coin is larger than the 20 pence, 5 pence, ten pence, and 1 pound coin. Also, what is up with the £1 pound coin. In the UK, you’ll weigh 5lbs more with pockets and wallets full of those annoying £1 coins. On the plus side, if you collect each newly design coin, you can make this: http://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/en/a/a8/New_British_Coinage_2008.jpg

29. I highly recommend taking a historic tour. Do it. You will not regret it, and it will be well worth the money. At least take a “Ghost Bus” tour: http://www.theghostbustours.com/

30. Houses of Parliament. No matter how many times you’ve seen the Houses of Parliament, Big Ben, St. Paul’s Cathedral, or any other popular attraction in London, it is just as breathtaking as the first time you see them.

31. The River Thames. Not the Thames River. And another pronunciation blunder: it’s “Temz”…silly Brits.

32. The rats own the city at night. And they’re not afraid of humans. I don’t mind a rat, but when they’re in groups, I squeal and flail my arms running away.

33. Tea is like water. The Brits will drink tea even on a hot summer day of 80F.

34. The Queen. The day I arrived in London, she left for Belmoral Castle. And the day I arrived back home in the U.S., she returned back to Buckingham Palace. There went my chance of high-fiving Her Majesty. Anyway, see if you can get a tour of Buckingham Palace, and maybe you’ll spot QEII and can take a selfie!

35. Nothing is FREE in London. Nothing.

36. Bacon. Delicious, crispy, greasy bacon. Unfortunately, bacon as we know it here is not the same in the UK. Over there, “bacon” is what we would call ham in the US. And it’s very salty too.

37. Black Cabs. They’ll rip you off if you’re not careful. Find the right one, get his card, and use his cab to get around the city . Great thing about the Black Cabs, is how spacious they are! They’re like mini limousines! But don’t take a Black Cab. Take the Tube. Or rent a Barclay Bike….or walk.

38. Staying hydrated will cost you! Water in London is more expensive than carbonated drinks. Find ways to refill your bottle for free. (Drinking fountains [be cautious], in a cafe, or at your hotel)

39. The entire city has WIFI!…but you have to pay for it…and it’s really slow. If it says it’s free, then it means it’s terribly slow. Just go find a McDonald’s or Starbucks and you’ll be fine.

40. The United Kingdom has five main train companies. Among them Virgin Trains which is a great choice! I took Virgin Trains from London to Coventry in First Class, and it was great! Snacks, drinks, and a comfortable ride.

[junker-town]

NFL Dad, Week 11: At least you didn’t start Nathan Peterman

One dad, two young kids, and six-plus hours of RedZone Channel. How much football can he actually watch?

What’s the stupidest thing you’ve ever done? I genuinely want to know.

For me, it was probably my wife and I deciding to have a second kid without so much as a glance at our budget (“budget,” he said, like an adult who had such a thing at the time). We wanted two kids, and we knew we’d make it work, gosh darn it. Because of that, our bank account is held together with duct tape and wishes, we’ll never own a home, and the looming specter of college tuition is the only thing that makes me look forward to the collapse of society.

On the other hand, that decision gave us a very sweet son who plays well with his big sister. We made a poor financial decision that led to fuller, more joyous lives. It wasn’t national news. It didn’t affect any outcomes for a billion-dollar franchise that employs hundreds of people. It wasn’t televised for everyone to mock.

What I’m saying is, at least I didn’t bench Tyrod Taylor to start Nathan Peterman, like some kind of ignorant asshole. And neither did you! So chin up, things could be a lot worse.

EARLY GAMES, FIRST HALF

— After helping get the kids ready for their naps, I turn on the TV around 1:15. The first meaningful play is Jay Cutler throwing an interception in the end zone. Hell yes, today is gonna be awesome.

— DeShone Kizer’s early line: 0-1, 1 INT. It looks MISERABLE in Cleveland: Windy, wet, and the Browns are playing.

A few minutes later, the Jaguars score a TD on play-action that fools the camera operator. Blake Bortles wasn’t even on the screen until just before he tossed the ball to Marcedes Lewis.

— Eli Manning completes five passes in a row to start the game. Naturally, once the Giants reach the red zone, it’s time for someone else to throw a pass! How does it go for Shane Vereen?

The Giants attempt a little trickery... But the @chiefs have other plans. PICKED. #KCvsNYG http://pic.twitter.com/0imA0M3DJ9

— NFL (@NFL) November 19, 2017

SUBOPTIMAL. Also, this is the first time this column has begun with three consecutive bullets about interceptions.

— My daughter goes down for her nap. Whenever we put her to bed, she does a singsong cadence of the names in her life (NOT like Arya Stark, I swear). She says, “Mommy, Daddy,” then rattles off her own name twice, her brother, the dog, her nanny (twice), and then back through the list again, but randomized.

I cannot do it justice in words because it is woven into the landscape of my day, a charming and inexplicable habit from the spongy mind of a child. Eventually, I know, she will stop doing it, and I’m already sad about the day I walk out of her darkened room without hearing the rhythmic, lyrical recitation of the names of people I love.

— The Jags run a surprise onside kick, and it works! Josh Lambo recovers!

That was cool, but ... C’mon guys, it’s the Browns. Y’all don’t need to do that. Let them die with dignity.

— We ran out of coffee in my house this weekend. I used the last of our grounds on Saturday morning, but thought we had another bag — not realizing that the bag was decaf. (Charlton Heston voice) DECAAAAAAAAAFFFF!!!

So we made do with decaf when we woke up, then I had a latte when we took the kids to the playground in the morning. I drank it like a desperate man. It helped, but by noon I was stressed and irritable, so I heated up water to make tea.

I try to be the kind of person who respects everyone’s tastes, but apparently that’s only possible when I have enough caffeine in my system. Tea is bullshit.

— Alex Smith throws an interception on a shovel pass. Not easy to do!

AN INT ON A SHOVEL PASS MAKES A TASTY SNACK FOR DAMON HARRISON #Giants #Chiefs http://pic.twitter.com/0RZs3zcyxt

— Clay Wendler (@ClayWendler) November 19, 2017

— Facing 4th and six in the vicinity of the Saints’ 40, Kirk Cousins makes an awesome throw downfield to convert, leading to a short rushing touchdown that gives Washington a 17-10 lead.

After Rams-Vikings, Washington versus New Orleans seems to be the game to watch in this early slate. Cousins & Co. are playing for their season, and the Saints offense seems a little rattled by the pressure that Ryan Kerrigan and his friends are bringing.

— I just deleted a bullet point about Jay Cutler throwing his second interception, because he has now thrown THREE. I swear the only RedZone highlights from this Bucs-Dolphins game are Cutler picks, which is all I really want anyway.

— The Packers have turned the ball over three times and the Ravens only lead 3-0. Brett Hundley has no business facing this Ravens defense, but it’s Baltimore that infuriates me. That offense is polio. Joe Flacco is the debtor’s prison’s Alex Smith.

Also, the Packers are wearing their crappy throwbacks. If I’d known they’d spend today drawing inspiration from the 1930s, I wouldn’t have picked them to cover.

— Rams-Vikings is living up to the hype of a battle between two division leaders in the superior conference. It’s tied at 7-7, and though there hasn’t been much fodder for this column, every set of downs is a chess match between quality teams with smart plans that make the most of their players.

As soon as I write that, Cooper Kupp caps a Rams drive by fumbling on the 1-yard line.

Cooper Kupp loses the on the 1-yard line... And the @Vikings recover! Going the other way! #SKOL http://pic.twitter.com/3glfdkGBOn

— NFL (@NFL) November 19, 2017

Even this — a red zone turnover — is more indicative of a relentless, well-coached defense than it is of Kupp’s carelessness. And now that’s I’ve had two instances of Kupp alliteration, I must see the headline through to completion:

Cooper Kupp’s carelessness crushes quality campaign; Case Keenum & company control close contest!

I would have been an incredible newsman in the 1920s.

— The Lions, who stumbled out of the gate against the Bears, take a 21-17 lead on a short pass to Ameer Abdullah with 20 seconds left in the half. John Fox has that, “Aw, hell” look on his face. It’s the sort of look that Bears fans must HATE, because it gives the impression that Fox is in over his head.

Another thing that gives the impression that Fox is in over his head? His coaching! ZING! Take that, old man who never did anything to me!

EARLY GAMES, SECOND HALF

— Joe Flacco throws to a blanketed Mike Wallace, who makes an incredible catch to give the Ravens the first touchdown of the game. They lead 13-0.

The announcers rave about Wallace’s catch — justifiably — but let’s talk about Flacco’s reasoning. It’s not like Wallace is the kind of receiver you should expect to make catches while covered, like Julio Jones or DeAndre Hopkins. He’s Mike Wallace! A deep threat on an offense that doesn’t throw deep! And the Ravens can’t even realistically cut Flacco until after 2018! We have SO MUCH more Flacco to watch. GUH. Dump this team into the Chesapeake.

— My son wakes up from his nap early. He points to his mouth and says, “Ow. Ow.” His mouth hurts because he fell off his sister’s bed earlier, hitting his chin on the bottom rail and biting his tongue. Poor kid. He sits next to me on the couch and sucks his thumb while resting his head against my shoulder.

— “Alex Smith is hot dog shit today.” That was originally going to be my entire bullet, but that metaphor isn’t very clear. What I mean is that Smith is fresh dog shit on scorching pavement on hottest day of the summer. But the phrase could also read as shit from a dog that’s hot, or possibly the filling of a hot dog from a questionable manufacturer. None of these are particularly good, but I wanted to make it clear what kind of hot dog shit Alex Smith is today.

— Matt Moore has replaced Jay Cutler -- not for cause, though. Cutler, who had put together some 11 or 12 minutes without an interception, left the game with a concussion. Moore immediately hits Jarvis Landry for a long gain.

— My wife leaves with my son to walk our dog just as my daughter wakes up from her nap. The Vikings are putting together an intriguing drive, but I go into her room and help her use the potty. When we come back out to the TV room, the Vikings are celebrating a touchdown.

We sit on the couch and I read a Dr. Seuss book to her. Are you ready for a children’s book hot take? I hope so, because Seuss is WILDLY overrated. He’s kind of like Joe Namath: A champion and Hall of Famer, sure, but also revered beyond his talent.

The strength of Seuss books is their musical language, and I fully welcome the way they can give children a sense of poetic rhythm and rhyme. They’re also EXCRUCIATINGLY long; I could read a chapter of Moby-Dick in the time it takes to read Oh, The Places You’ll Go. The rhymes are also repetitive enough to feel rote, but differentiated enough that you can’t zone out and perform on autopilot; it’s the children’s book version of assembling IKEA furniture. Finally, though I can’t deny Seuss’ unique artistic style, I loathe it with all my heart. Is that a dog or a cat? A cat or a person? A person or some made-up bullshit so he can make a rhyme? I’m over it, man.

— After the book, my daughter takes my wrist in her hand and puts my arm around her. We watch Adam Thielen break a long TD to give the Vikings a two-score lead, and that’s probably curtains for the Rams.

All this man does is make PLAYS. 65-yard @athielen19 TOUCHDOWN! #SKOL http://pic.twitter.com/cQyfvs5sR5

— NFL (@NFL) November 19, 2017

— Another Alex Smith interception leads to a Giants field goal; the underdogs lead 9-6 with 1:39 left. This reminds me: I missed it while parenting, but Travis Kelce ALSO threw an interception today.

In just this one NFL game, interceptions have been thrown by a quarterback, a running back, and a tight end. If you had bet me before the game that THREE players would throw interceptions and NONE of them would be Eli Manning, you would own every penny to my name.

— Alex Smith TRIES to throw another pick, but there’s a penalty on the defense. Soon after, he finds Travis Kelce wide open down the seam. The Chiefs get into the red zone but can only get a field goal. These assholes are going to overtime.

— A Lions 52-yard field goal gives them 27-24 lead, but John Fox has three timeouts, one minute remaining, and a rookie quarterback. LET’S GO!

Mitchell Trubisky puts together a competent hurry-up drill, but Connor Barth misses WAY wide right on a 46-yarder. The Bears lose, 27-24. It’s the third straight game (and fifth overall) that they’ve lost by one score. Meanwhile, two of their three wins have come in overtime. This must be an AGONIZING season for Bears fans.

— My wife gives our daughter a Moana coloring book that comes with a paintbrush and watercolors. The first picture inside features Moana standing proudly with her fists on her hips. Later in the evening, my daughter will swagger up and down the hallway with her fists on her hips, saying, “I’m walking like Moana!”

THIS is why I love Moana but have beef with the traditional Disney princesses. My daughter is three years old and has still never seen Moana (or any movie), but frequent exposure to the soundtrack and a couple of plot points — “Moana has to save her people” — gives my daughter enough information to guide her body language, and we can see it in the way she play-acts.

When she’s Cinderella, I have to pretend to put a gown on her, and we dance together at the ball. When she’s Rapunzel, she flips her hair around; Ariel, and she holds up a scarf as a bikini. But when she’s Moana, she throws her shoulders back, struts with purpose, and thrusts her fist into the air — something she’d only previously done when saying, “I’m Batman!”

Long story short, her Cinderella doll has a date with the trash chute.

— The Saints, trailing by 15 as the game winds to a close, needed two touchdowns in three minutes. Drew Brees did it in two minutes, thanks to a three-and-out forced by the defense. 2-point conversion good.

WE. DID. THAT.@a_kamara6 with the touchdown and the two-point conversion to tie things up with 1:05 to play! #SaintsGameday | #WASvsNO http://pic.twitter.com/Dzae3lVa40

— New Orleans Saints (@Saints) November 19, 2017

This gives me flashbacks to Washington’s win in Seattle a few weeks back, when the Seahawks scored too quickly and gave the visitors enough time to retake the lead.

— With time starting to run low in overtime, the Giants go for it on 4th and six at the edge of field goal range, and Manning takes a shot deep. awesome deep pass. Great play. FG Giants, 12-9.

Wowwwwwwww. Roger Lewis makes the INCREDIBLE grab to setup the @giants WIN. #GiantsPride http://pic.twitter.com/YE9qsqlql5

— NFL (@NFL) November 19, 2017

It’s underthrown, but the cornerback drags Roger Lewis (a player I have DEFINITELY heard of, yessir) down, and that helps him make the spectacular catch. The Giants kick a chip shot to win the game.

The Chiefs’ performance today puts some serious stink on the “Andy Reid after a bye week” mystique. Woof. On the flip side, the Giants hurt their draft position and will keep Ben McAdoo as coach a little longer, so ... way to go, everybody. Bang-up job this week.

— Washington does nothing with its first OT possession, and the Saints waste no time: Mark Ingram breaks a long run to put them in field goal range. Wil Lutz kicks the 28-yarder, and this is the rare instance I approve of overtime: It (A) ended quickly and (B) completed the gut-wrenching collapse of a team I dislike.

LATE GAMES, FIRST HALF

— Nathan Peterman starts his NFL career off with a pick-6. Sure, it went off the receiver’s hands, but that’s inconvenient for my narrative. I picked up the Chargers defense for my fantasy team, and I’m counting on Joey Bosa and Melvin Ingram to ruin the debut of an unheralded rookie quarterback.

— The first RedZone action in Denver is the Broncos blocking a Bengals punt. It should be illegal to have this much orange on the field.

— My wife gives the kids apple slices with maple almond butter, which is one of very few ways to make almond butter palatable to kids raised on peanut butter. They sit at the table and eat silently. I mute the TV and just drink in the quiet. For entire seconds: no sirens or honking outside, no incessant questions or shouting or whining, no dog nails clacking on the wood floors, just silence. I store the moment away and save it for a moment when I need a warm feeling of calm.

— Brock Osweiler throws a pick in end zone that Dre Kirkpatrick ALMOST returns for six, but he inexplicably fumbles without being touched, recovering his mistake at the one-yard line. This might be my favorite play of the entire year:

PICK-6-OHHH NO! Dre Kirkpatrick nearly has a 101-yard PICK-6... But fumbles inside the 5. Wow. #CINvsDEN http://pic.twitter.com/zUyPI5Q0xZ

— NFL (@NFL) November 19, 2017

By the way, this is the exact sort of thing I’d do if I were an NFL player who had Joe Mixon on my fantasy team (I don’t, though, because I drafted with MORAL PRINCIPLES). It’s Tyler Kroft, however, who gets the touchdown.

— My daughter, still working with watercolors, absentmindedly takes a sip from the cup of water she was dipping her paint brush in. Bruce Arians approves!

My wife says, “How did that taste?” My daughter only frowns in response.

— Tom Brady opens the scoring in Mexico City with a TD to one of his running backs … Kevin Faulk? No, Dion Lewis. Hey, speaking of Mexico, the new Pixar joint looks amazing.

Oh yeah, that’s gonna give me a good cry.

— Nathan Peterman has now thrown his THIRD interception. It’s still the first quarter.

Tyrod Taylor has the lowest interception rate in NFL history (at least 1000 attempts).

— Mina Kimes (@minakimes) November 19, 2017

Tyrod Taylor in 2017: 254 passing attempts, 3 interceptions Nathan Peterman, today: 8 passing attempts, 3 interceptions

— Rodger Sherman (@rodger_sherman) November 19, 2017

— Keenan Allen is in for a TD, and it’s 17-7, Chargers. Allen doesn’t look quick, but he’s just so smooth. I can’t think of another receiver that big who moves with such grace and without any wasted movement. I hope he can avoid the injury problems that have followed him to this point.

— Peterman throws a FOURTH pick! This is amazing. I stop watching the games to follow Twitter, where the ‘Rod Squad is gleefully destroying Sean McDermott and the Bills management.

more like Tea-rod Taylor, right @minakimes? http://pic.twitter.com/zUbrqH6ziC

— Matt Ufford (@mattufford) November 19, 2017

You’ll notice in the above picture that Taylor has “Born to Lose” tattooed on his bicep; on his other one is “Built to Win.” When he leaves Buffalo — and he should, for an organization that actually welcomes him as a perfectly solid quarterback (‘sup Jacksonville?) — he should find some space for “Benched Too Soon.”

— A Peterman fumbled snap leads to 3rd and seven, and let me tell you: I have rarely been so tense as watching Nathan Peterman, sitting on four interceptions, wait to take a snap on a passing down. (He threw incomplete. It was not particularly close to being complete.)

— Did Nathan Michael Peterman throw a fifth interception? You are extremely goddamn right he did.

— As the games go into halftime, the Chargers lead the Bills 37-7, the Pats take a 17-0 lead on a 62-yarder from Stephen Gostkowski, and the Bengals lead in Denver, 13-7. The lone close game is the one I have no interest in watching. Orange teams are crap.

LATE GAMES, SECOND HALF

— My kids practice saying “Touchdown!” while throwing their arms up in the air. the 3-year-old has it down cold, but my son’s pronunciation isn’t quite there. It starts out as “DA-DA!” but he manages to get to “TOUSH-DAWN!” by the thirtieth or fortieth try. It definitely did not get old, I’ll tell you that much.

— Brandin Cooks ends any realistic hope for the Raiders with a 64-yard touchdown that is all speed and no safety help. I won’t even link to a highlight because it’s not even that interesting. Imagine a really fast guy running past a person, then catching a ball in stride and continuing to run. There you go.

— Tyrod Taylor is back! He converts a 3rd and 12 and leads the offense to a field goal. Whoa, CRAZY how the Bills’ offense works better when the more talented quarterback plays. Sean McDermott is either the stupidest asshole in the league, or he’s being told by management to back Peterman and too spineless to say no.

— I get my son out of the bath, put him in a diaper and pajamas, give him his milk, and somehow manage to cut his fingernails without turning our house into the Octagon. The kid can’t catch a ball, but brandish some nail clippers and he’s suddenly a black belt in Brazilian jiu-jitsu. Usually, if I want to keep him from scratching his face with his talons while he sleeps, I have to put him in an arm bar while he screams bloody murder.

But not this time! He just drinks his milk and doesn’t struggle. Now, if you don’t have kids, you probably never think about this kind of thing. But as a parent, please allow me to shout, THIS IS SUCH AN EASY THING THAT CHILDREN MAKE SO GODDAMN HARD ARRRRGGGHHH.

— Down 27-0, the Raiders go for it on 4th and one, and hand it off to ... a running back who is NOT Marshawn Lynch. He gets stuffed. JESUS. What black magic does Belichick have that makes opposing coaches ignore Lynch at crucial moments?

— The Raiders score a touchdown I don’t see because this is happening:

The great thing about writing is that you can easily work from home

I saved my daughter’s notes:

bv bvb vt /ER;/.SZrd6s4\-}){“:$D[‘c tgc raLKUoYPTOIUYTR’=\][

OK, so we’ve got some room to improve. She does better work with emojis.

— My son picks a book off the table, drops it on the floor, and bends down to pick it up, not accounting for the table that’s in his head’s path. BONK. He’s got a red welt on his forehead, and it’s at least the fourth time this afternoon he’s fallen or otherwise hurt himself (he also pulled open a tape measure, which retracted and whipped him in the face). He’s a disaster.

On the screen, the clock ticks down on the Chargers’ 54-24 blowout. Sean McDermott looks grim but steadfast. In the other room, my daughter channels The Rock’s voice to yell the final lines of his song in Moana: “AND THANK YOU!”