#the way they always do. because that's what alan shore deserves

[jimmyspades]

[anntoldst0ries]

The Signs (Ethan x MC)

Book: Open Heart 3, post Chapter 11 Pairing: Dr Ethan Ramsey x F!MC (Dr Noelle Valentine) Word Count/Rating: 1.6k, T Summary: After moments of passion and confessions, Ethan finds himself unable to fall asleep. Category/Warnings: Fluff, None

A/N: They are riding on Hawaiian waves, I am riding on the wave of fluff.

He witnessed the scene countless times during his career.

People squeezed in hospital corridors on horribly uncomfortable plastic chairs, air filled with hope of receiving the good news on their loved ones’ health, shared by many souls simultaneously. Wives resting their heads on husbands’ shoulders, mothers holding children perseveringly, their arms and legs numb and asleep. Some of them unmoving, save for shallow breaths and occasional blinks. Tired, on the verge of emaciation, haven’t had a wink of sleep in god knows how long.

How were they doing this? Where did they take this superhuman strength from?

Ethan could never fully comprehend this.

It was the sort of power he never really experienced in his life.

Until now.

Because when Noelle’s head found its haven on the sea of his chest, there wasn’t anything he wanted more than to become completely still, to hold his breath and be the pillow of safety she nestles up to.

He’d do whatever it takes to preserve her sleep, which, right now, was the most fragile and precious thing in the world to him.

It was a sign.

They lay in the aftermath of the afterglow, two castaways of the storm called life which, despite hurting them both really badly, also helped them find each other.

Them against the world.

Tropical Hawaiian air, sticky and dense, filled the room already soaked with lust.

It was heavy, failing to provide even the slightest relief amidst pervasive heat.

Because it was the type of heat that didn’t have much to do with the temperature.

It was the ardor of lovers.

Written on their curves were the stories of worship and promises of stories yet to be told.

They claimed each other's bodies a couple of times this night, engulfed in waves of desire bigger and stronger than the ones breaking on the shore outside the hotel windows.

The tidal waves hitting them, every next one with more might then its predecessor, their whole world encapsulated in the sounds of pleasure.

And something else.

In those moments, they were so much more than just a combination of skin, bones, muscles and ligaments succumbing to the march of time.

They were everlasting.

As doctors, they were reminded of their own mortality every second of every working hour.

But now, they were invincible, only if for a night.

When they moved in perfect unison, he saw something in her eyes.

He didn’t know what to call it, but he knew what it felt like.

Unconditional.

Their clothes and belongings were scattered all over the floor, the only witnesses of the wedding night fever.

It was the type of mess that was actually a proof of a perfect order.

The only kind of disarray he could live in permanently.

Signs.

Every cell of Ethan’s body craved sleep. But his eyes were wide open, defying the laws of gravity. And his mind was on overdrive. He couldn’t help but reminisce.

Two years ago he kissed her for the first time.

He could tell you exactly what happened right before and after the kiss. He could describe every second, every detail, every thought. But when their lips touched, he forgot his own name. And everything else he thought he knew.

A year ago he was fighting for her life.

Back then, Ethan didn’t know how strong he really was. Until being strong was the only choice he had.

Today, she was right here beside him and it was almost surreal. She was so close that he would notice the rising and falling of her chest. The rhythm of her breath.

It took him long to believe they could have a happy ending.

Too long, he kept reprimanding himself.

Yet the signs were there, if one only looked.

They were all around.

Ethan thought of all the people who made him the man and the doctor he was today.

Dolores. His first patient turned friend, the tragic and unjust loss. Baby Ethan’s fight. The night when nature played the cruelest eye for an eye game. Life for life. The night he started seeing Noelle Valentine through a brand new lens. He never told anyone, but seeing them so vulnerable awoke something in him. His own sensitivity, buried beneath the layers of grumpiness and indifference. Thick doctor skin.

Naveen. Ethan wished he could wipe the images out of his head. Seeing the man who taught him everything shrink and almost disappear was one of the hardest things he had to face in his whole life. Truth be told, he only made it through because she shared the burden with him. Because she saved Naveen. This delicate, slightly-built woman. The warrior. His Noelle. She made him so proud.

Louise. What his mother did to him was beyond repair. The cross he carried with him, anywhere he went. But in a short period of time Noelle achieved something he couldn’t do for years. Forgive. Never forget. Forgive and finally understand that even broken souls deserve the unbreakable love.

Dad. The man who, despite all the adversities, always had time for his child. But that didn't stop Ethan from resenting Alan for always justifying what Louise did. He couldn't understand, even though it was so simple. Love. In the realms of medicine, Ethan was in his element. But the concept of unconditional love was estranged. Until he met her. Not only did she mend the broken fence between father and son, but also showed him that some things truly are unexplainable and can only be understood with heart, not mind.

Tobias - his former best friend then best rival and now...best not to talk about it too much. Only Noelle had the power of talking Ethan into considering looking at Tobias in a different light. She laughed at the idea of holding the grudge forever. She challenged him and called him out on his bullshit.

Every relationship that meant something to him, had irreversibly been impacted by the force of a once clueless intern.

She signed them all.

Suddenly, she peeled away from his chest and rolled over to the left, so that her back was now facing him. Having covered her with a thin sheet, his fingers brushed her shoulder blades ever so lightly, as if anything more than this could hurt her.

It took all the willpower in the world to stop himself, for he wanted to touch every single millimeter of her being.

He wanted to draw the maps on her back. Maps of all the places they are going to discover together. The highways of their world. The plans of all the cities they will tower over. Write the words of pure adoration. The stories yet to unfold.

At the risk of looking like a creep, he slowly inhaled her smell. He wished there was a way to capture and bottle it, so he could carry it with him everywhere. His favourite perfume in the whole wide world.

Noelle shuddered lightly and the tiny movement startled him. Maybe she was trying to shoo a bad dream away.

“You are just a few inches away… and this is the longest distance between us I’m willing to put. No more running.” He whispered and kissed her hair lovingly. As if on cue, her breath returned to its regular rhythm, the tension leaving her muscles.

Part of him hoped she was asleep. Another wished she’d heard every single word. After all, he wasn’t best at translating feelings into words. Or maybe he was actually afraid that once he started, nothing would stop him.

Not only from telling her how he’s never felt this way about anyone, but also how everything fades whenever she’s around. How all the hospital drama dissipates, because everything is figureoutable as long as he knows she’s safe and sound. How, if he couldn’t run, he’d walk. If he couldn’t walk, he’d crawl. To her.

Today has done something to him.

Celebration of Ines’ love. Zaid’s speech. Being surrounded by people he no longer considered co-workers only. His friends.

Ethan lied. “I've never felt this way about anyone... and I don't know if I ever will again." Because he is certain he never will again. But more importantly, he never wants to.

Words echoed throughout his head.

“What I didn't expect was to meet the kindest, sweetest, most amazing doctor I've ever known... and the best friend I've ever had.” That was exactly what happened to him when one intern crossed the threshold of Edenbrook hospital...and inadvertently his life.

A crazy thought was born in his head. Completely irrational. And not a bad idea.

He hoped Zaid wouldn’t mind if he’d stolen the line and used it for his wedding vows. That is, if she agreed to share the rest of her life with him. There was always a dose of uncertainty.

But the idea certainly didn’t sound so scary anymore. Quite the contrary.

~~~

Noelle woke up in a couple of paradises simultaneously.

The tropical paradise.

The physical paradise of total satisfaction.

The paradisiacal view of Ethan Ramsey’s perfect body.

“Good morning.” She murmured to the man on the balcony, who, despite the heavenly view of Hawaii stretching behind him, had his eyes set firmly on her.

“Good morning indeed.” He replied with an unknown sweetness in his voice, that surprised even him.

And he really meant it.

This was a good sign.

Fantastic even.

Maybe the best one ever.

~~

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@openheartfanfics @choicesficwriterscreations

[gumnut-logic]

For His Brothers (complete)

This one has been bugging me for a while. So I finally went back and completed it.

This was started in December last year, so most of it has been posted here before, but I’ve decided to post it in its entirety since I haven’t written any of it since February.

But now it is finished. Yay!

Thanks as always to @tsarinatorment​ @scribbles97​ and @janetm74​ for their amazing support throughout. You guys are just sooo kind to me ::hugs you to bits::

I hope you enjoy this.

Warnings: angst, frustrated Gordon, angry John and a pair of idiot older brothers. 5861 words.

-o-o-o-

He reached over and gently brushed away a stray hair from his brother’s forehead.

The room was quiet. Considering the monetary clout the Tracy family sported, it was to be expected. Hidden away from the bustling hospital, this oasis of a room with its pale furnishings, white privacy curtains, the cushioned chairs in place of the usual plastic was a haven.

These comforts were to be valued and Virgil appreciated them even if his brother would have frowned at the extravagance.

But that was Scott.

Always thinking of everything and everyone but himself.

Virgil let his fingers glide through that soft brown hair, the severity of their situation clear by the lack of gel stiffening the strands.

Scott never left the house without every hair perfectly placed, fingernails manicured, skin clean and refreshed. Looking at him, you wouldn’t think this was a man willing to get his hands dirty. But then Scott was never what he seemed.

The hair gel, the spotless clothing, his deportment, it all spoke of a wealthy man who owned sixty sports cars, three yachts and a private plane.

Scott had the plane, sure, the fastest one on the planet. And hell, yeah, he had a fast car and even a motorcycle. He didn’t sport a boat, but then Gordon was the one to stash those and it wasn’t like he wasn’t willing to share…well, most things.

But Scott never had time to just drive his car. The bike was on the Island gathering dust in a corner of One’s hangar. Virgil was pretty sure Scott hadn’t been on a boat that didn’t involve some kind of life-threatening situation in about ten years.

No, Scott was not your average billionaire.

A sigh and Virgil let himself wilt in the chair beside the bed.

Please, Scott.

His brother was pale, his skin almost bloodless. If it wasn’t for that, he could have been asleep. Scott was neat even in slumber. He wasn’t one to sprawl. There was a certain quiet efficiency to everything he did.

Virgil had brought in his brother’s pyjamas. Even helped the nurse dress him. It wasn’t the first time, after all. If Scott had been awake at the time, the protests would have been epic. The man did not like needing help. Did not like showing vulnerability. Did not want any of it.

Virgil had fought him on this far too many times before using soft words and, if necessary, a pile of hard logic to get him to behave. Because there was one weapon Virgil always had up his sleeve. Catching Scott’s eyes, all Virgil had to say was that he needed to do this. Virgil needed to care for his brother. Look after him and see him well.

It cracked Scott’s obstinance every time, because Scott would do anything for his brothers.

Including sacrificing himself.

Virgil let his head drop to his hand and rubbed his face. There was an edge to his thoughts. A hysteria lurking in the corners, lured out by certain possibilities, accompanied by terror.

He couldn’t.

No.

Another sigh and he looked up again, forcing his eyes to land on his brother. The total inability to do anything grated on Virgil’s senses. His everything was to fix things.

He couldn’t fix this.

He reached down and caught his brother’s hand. It was cool, but not cold. The IV sticking out the back of the vein just beneath his skin shifted as Virgil moved and he clutched the tubing gently to his brother’s wrist to prevent stress on the site.

Scott’s fingers were long.

Longer than Virgil’s. Long enough to play the piano better than Virgil had ever been capable. It was Scott’s thing...to be better. Following him in everything due to age had its challenges. Scott was good at what he wanted to be good at.

The fact he had dropped the piano at an early age was just as frustrating as John not singing with his magical voice. Virgil felt like the last bastion of artistic pursuits in the family.

Virgil ran a finger over his brother’s limp digits. No longer playing the piano beyond what long term memory could provide, these fingers were tasked with so much more. The strength behind them controlled Thunderbird One, their dexterity manipulated equipment, their determination reached out to save so many souls.

His brother’s hand blurred and Virgil had to blink hard.

Virgil would follow his big brother anywhere, and to be honest, he had followed him into hell on many an occasion. He had no regrets. Sometimes he considered that perhaps he had been brought into this world to do exactly that. To follow the born leader his brother was. To enable the strategies he envisioned and, in turn, support him in their mutual endeavours.

And to keep him safe.

Virgil wrapped both his hands around Scott’s fingers and dropped his forehead to their cool touch.

God, please.

“Hey, Virg?” The voice was unmistakably Gordon’s, but it lacked vivacity. “Grandma wants you.” The aquanaut took a step into the room. “I can sit with Scott.”

Virgil didn’t answer.

“Virg, please?”

He closed his eyes and held on just a little tighter to his brother’s hand.

The same hand he had failed to catch.

“V-“

“No.” His voice croaked the word, but the emotion came from so deep inside it hurt to cross his lips.

A soft touch to his shoulder and he heard his little brother crouch down beside him.

Virgil expected Gordon to keep trying to persuade him, but instead a soft head of hair leant into his shoulder and an arm reached around his back, pulling him off centre and holding him there.

No words, just Gordon’s soft breathing, slow and strong. Swimmer’s lungs. Olympian. Rescuer.

Thunderbird.

Virgil squeezed his eyes tight and kept his insides in where they belonged.

Gordon began gently stroking Virgil’s arm with the tips of his fingers.

They sat there like that for Virgil didn’t know how long. He kept his eyes closed, his forehead down and his big brother’s hand clutched in his.

“You know he is going to wake up, don’t you?” It was flippant and out of the blue. It shattered Virgil’s carefully tended calm and his head shot up, inadvertently pushing Gordon away.

“We don’t know that.”

“Yes, we do.”

Virgil opened his mouth, but his throat closed up. Only one strangled word made it out and it was little more than a plaintive wail. “How?”

“Because he’s Scott.” The surety in Gordon’s voice tore at the remains of Virgil’s heart. “Scott Tracy. Commander of International Rescue.” Gordon’s lips thinned as his eyes reflected the fluorescent lighting. “Thunderbird One.”

Virgil stared at his little brother a moment. The intensity in those brown eyes screamed belief and determination.

Not unlike Scott, really.

It almost broke Virgil in half.

He looked away, back to his big brother laid out on the white bed, almost funereal in appearance. Virgil’s throat clogged up, fear, distress and grief warring for dominance.

His eyes fixated on Scott’s eyelashes once again and mentally begged them to open, pleaded to see that wise and inspirational blue. For his brother to return to him.

Please don’t leave.

God, please, I can’t do this without you.

“He’s going to be fine, Virgil.” Gordon’s voice again intruded on his stability, shaking the fragile framework his composure was sitting on.

“He trusted me.” The words fell from his lips, his voice wet, his eyes still fixated on his silent brother.

“He always trusts you. We all do.” Gordon’s voice was very much his rescue voice. Soft, reassuring and ever so kind.

Virgil didn’t deserve it.

The powerlines had come out of nowhere. He should have predicted that at least, but instead he had John yelling in his ears and Scott swooping in low with his jetpack, grabbing him by his exo-suit and literally shoving him out of the way. Virgil had spun on one tortured ankle, but the electrical wires had missed him.

They hadn’t missed Scott.

They slapped across his jet pack and vivid white and orange sparks blinded Virgil as he tried to reach for his brother. After-images haunted his sight as Scott’s jet pack died. Virgil reached for his brother, claws extended, but he was clumsy, poorly balanced, and he missed.

Scott fell limp into the dark water below.

And Virgil couldn’t follow.

Then it was all a mad dance to get out the reach of the still flailing powerlines, accompanied by the roar of his own ‘bird swooping into a low hover and his aquanaut brother taking a swan dive off her front hatch into that same dark water.

Virgil hurried to get off the bridge, but found he couldn’t.

He had been on the outside of the structure, rappelling down to secure a car that had almost fallen off the bridge due to the 6.5 quake an hour ago. The bridge was almost empty bar the last of the support personnel who had helped International Rescue evacuate the injured. Virgil had clambered out there simply to clip a restraint onto the car’s chassis to prevent it from falling off the bridge and possibly causing more injury. It should have been a simple job, mere seconds before they moved onto the next site.

The pylon had fallen without warning.

And the powerlines, which weren’t supposed to be there, came with it.

Scott had saved Virgil’s life.

At the cost of his own.

And now Virgil couldn’t even get off the damned bridge due to that same pylon, a tangle in his rappel line, and the very strong possibility he had a broken ankle.

He had to stand there and watch Gordon drag their brother onto the shore and start CPR in the mud.

The aquanaut was joined by Alan and a hovering One almost immediately. Scott was scooped off the planet and the rocket plane tore off into the distance.

He was stuck on that bridge for a good twenty minutes. Unable to reach his ‘bird still hovering until John landed her in a street nearby. Unable to climb off the bridge. He was little more than just another rescuee in need of his brothers.

Full of terror.

John reported on Scott’s status as much as he could and fretted in his own calm way over Virgil. His voice was, as ever, a balm, but the lack of a definitive answer on whether his eldest brother was going to survive kept Virgil’s heart rate in the red.

But then there was the familiar roar of that same brother’s ‘bird and One shot into an abrupt hover, Alan rappelling down and finally scooping Virgil off the side of the bridge.

Scott was still unconscious when Virgil finally made it to the hospital, and his brother had stayed that way ever since.

Three days.

Three long pain-filled days.

Virgil’s ankle had been splinted and he was mobile. Turned out the left strut of his exo-suit had actually snapped. How Scott had managed to shove him with that much force, Virgil had no idea. But it had achieved what his brother had wanted to do. He had saved Virgil, even if he hadn’t managed to save himself.

So quiet. So still.

Gordon shifted beside him, a small sigh passing his lips.

“Thank you, Gordon.” Virgil’s throat clogged again. “For saving him.”

“You don’t need to thank me. We’d all do the same for any of us.”

“You shouldn’t have had to. I should have known those wires were there. I should have moved faster.”

“What are you? Prophetic? John had the plans for that bridge, you had the plans for that bridge. There was no mention of hidden cables in that span. You know it, I know it. There wasn’t a damn thing you could have done. Some stupid idiot didn’t file the proper papers with the proper authorities.”

“I should have scanned the structure more thoroughly.”

“Virgil, it was a bridge, not a damned building. You and Scott located all the injured. You did good.” An exasperated sigh. “This was not your fault.” Gordon straightened. “And if you don’t leave this room and eat something, Grandma is going to have both our hides.”

Virgil didn’t even bother to look at him. “No. I’m staying here.” He had to, because Scott had to wake up.

He had to.

“I have to say, bro, I had to talk very fast to keep Grandma away. Forty-eight hours is ridiculous. You need food and rest.”

“I ate.” The discarded remains of breakfast sat on the sideboard. It had been cardboard and chaff in his mouth. The water had been welcome to wash it down.

And he’d kept it down...mostly.

Gordon glared at him. “More than three mouthfuls. Listen, if you don’t move yourself, John and I are going to move you for your own good.”

Virgil looked up at Gordon in shock. “No.” He had to be here.

“You’re forcing our hand, Virg! I will knock you out myself, if I have to, and I know...I know...Scott would agree.”

“Yes, he does.” It was parched and more breath than voice, but it was Scott.

Virgil spun in his chair as the fingers still wrapped in his hands curled around his. Dopey blue eyes pinned him from the bed. “What the h-hell are you doing, Virgil?”

“Scott!” Something inside broke. A dam, a wall of emotion slammed into him at the sight of that crease between Scott’s eyebrows, the twitch of his lips.

It took everything he had to hold it all in.

“Hey, big bro, you’re with us! How are you feeling?” Gordon was on his feet and practically bouncing. A blink and his little brother had thumbed his comms and was letting their family know.

The figure under the bed clothes shifted and groaned. “Stiff and sore. What the hell happened?”

“You got zapped like a bug, went for a swim, and made Alan fly you to these luxurious accommodations.” Gordon’s arm waved around at the white room.

Scott stared at Gordon a moment before blearily turning to Virgil, his expression pleading an explanation.

Virgil pushed it past the lump in his throat, voice parched. “You were hit by live powerlines and knocked from the sky. Fortunately, you were over water and fairly low. Gordon fished you out and saved your life.”

A blink as those blue eyes absorbed that. “What about you?” And there was memory in those eyes, worry for a younger brother, the drive that pushed Scott to give his everything.

For his brothers.

“I’m good.” Now.

“Bullshit, Virg.” Gordon’s expression was beyond exasperated. “You need rest.”

Lips thinned. “I know what I need, Gordon.”

The hand that was still in his tightened and Virgil was forced to look at Scott. Nothing was said, but everything was communicated.

For his brothers.

Scott would not rest if Virgil did not.

He swallowed his beating heart and with a gentle squeeze of his brother’s hand, Virgil stood up and straightened his shoulders. “I sh-should let the others know you’re awake.”

Virgil was vaguely aware of Scott frowning up at him as he reached for his crutches, but a sudden light-headedness distracted him. Perhaps he should eat something.

“Virg?” Scott’s voice was weak.

“What?” Virgil turned and the world turned with him.

A clatter of plastic chair and Gordon was suddenly in his face. “Hey, there, Virg. Take it slow.” His little brother was frowning as much as Scott, his hand gripping Virgil’s biceps holding him steady.

Virgil got his crutches under his arms. “I’m...good.”

Scott was struggling to sit up.

Gordon let go of Virgil with one hand and grabbed his eldest brother by the shoulder. “Hey, you stay put.”

“Virgil-“

“Virgil is fine, Scott. He is going to go to his rooms to eat and sleep for a good twelve hours even if I have to tie him to his bed.” A thumb to his collar. “John, I need you in here.”

Within seconds, the door opened and their red-haired brother strode in. The moment those turquoise eyes landed on Virgil, his brow creased into a frown, but it flickered as he turned to Scott, relief taking over.

Gordon didn’t give him a chance to say anything

“Johnny, a clear case of Operation Big Bro Tango. You want Scott? I’ll dance with Virg.”

A smirk curved John’s lips. “FAB.”

“What the hell?” That came from Scott.

Virgil had closed his eyes at some point. The world was still going around. The sound of a chair being dragged across the floor and an arm wrapped around his waist. “C’mon, Virg, let’s get you something to eat.”

He didn’t want to eat. He was nauseous and his head hurt and his heart was tied up in a mass of emotion that he could barely keep under control.

“Scott-“

“Scott will be fine. John has him, and I have you.”

“I’m...” But he wasn’t fine and he had to get out of this room before Scott realised it. Before... “I’m good.” That last word scraped over his larynx and left a bloody trail. He forced his eyes open to find a worried Scott staring up at him. John’s hand was on his eldest brother’s shoulder and he was speaking quietly to the man, obviously trying his best to keep Scott where he was. Virgil forced some steel into his spine. “I’m good, Scott. I’m going to get something to eat. Gran...Grandma will probably be here in a moment.” His hand tightened on his crutches and he carefully edged around the chair that had been his constant companion for the last few days.

Gordon hovered.

“Look after yourself, Virgil.” Scott’s voice was desperate.

Virgil didn’t look back. “I’m good. You worry about you.” A haggard breath. “Listen to John.”

He got a grunt for that as Gordon held open the door, urging him through.

A last glance at his big brother, now sitting up in bed, John’s hand still on his shoulder. Virgil turned his back to him and crutched his way through the door.

He made it all of five steps down the corridor before Gordon had to catch him as he fell.

-o-o-o-

“You idiot.”

It was breathless and close. It came from beyond the fog and outside the numb space he was inhabiting. It spoke of a place where pain existed.

Because there was pain in that voice.

“Why did you do this? Why?!”

The voice was familiar and it sparked hurt in his heart.

“Do you honestly think I would risk everything for your life just so you can go and flush it all down the toilet in some self-sacrificing vigil? Virg, why?”

Somewhere there was a thump as something fell beside him. It vibrated slowly through his body. He had a body. He had a hand. Because it was grabbed and held tightly, crushed up against soft skin backed by muscle and bone.

Breath tantalised the hairs on his wrist.

Whispered. “Virg, it wasn’t your fault. John hunted down the person responsible.” A soft snort. “You should have seen him. Our brother can be truly terrifying when he wants to be.” Another sigh across his wrist. A brush of fingers. “I can’t…”

Scott swallowed. Because it was Scott and there was something very significant about that.

“You can’t do this. I can’t…” The voice petered off again.

The hand holding his tightened a little more.

“You’re my brother.” The words came laden with so much emotion Virgil’s heart stuttered and he struggled to focus, to reach out.

His fingers wrapped around those holding them.

“Virgil?” There was sudden hope.

“What the hell do you think you are doing?!”

The new, sharp voice startled Virgil and he flung his eyes open. Blinded by ceiling tiles he groaned and shut them again. Hospital. He was in a damned hospital.

“Virgil?!” A clatter of footsteps hurrying close. Gordon. The new voice was Gordon.

Typical.

“What?” The single word made it past his dry throat.

Another hand landed on his opposite shoulder and he attempted to open his eyes again and found his fish brother smiling down at him. “’Bout time you woke up. Was beginning to wonder if you were trying to compete with electro boy over there.” Gordon waved a hand across the bed to the opposite side.

Virgil turned his head and found a wan Scott Tracy sitting beside his bed, holding his hand. His big brother was a picture of exhaustion.

Several neurons fired in the right sequence and facts aligned themselves into order. “Scott!” Virgil pushed himself up.

“Whoa, Virg! Take it slow.” Strong aquanaut hands caught him as his body protested the sudden change in orientation. “And you, keep your butt plastered to that chair or I’m calling Johnny back in here to kick it. Hell, I might do that anyway. What the hell are you doing out of bed?”

Scott grunted as Gordon shoved pillows behind Virgil’s back and fiddled with the automatic bed controls until Virgil was supported enough to relax.

Scott did not let go of Virgil’s hand.

Virgil didn’t let go of Scott with his eyes. “Are you okay?” His voice was dry and cracked.

“I’m fine, Virgil.” His brother straightened as if to prove the point as Gordon spluttered a scoff. Blue eyes targeted the aquanaut. “I’m fine.” Firm and decisive.

“My god, both of you are idiots.” It was pure frustration this time. “Scott, go back to bed before you collapse just like your idiot brother. If you fold, then he’ll rot beside your bed until he collapses again and the rest of us will be stuck with two sick idiots.” He glared at both of them. “Well, sicker than you already are.” Angry brown eyes flicked to Virgil. “Grandma is going to roast you, Virg. You are so dead. Since when do you not take her medical advice?”

“What?” And now there was a pair of angry blue eyes glaring at him, too. “You ignored Grandma? Are you insane?”

Gordon’s eyebeams zapped his eldest brother where he sat. “You can’t talk, Scott. You’re out of bed. Grandma told you to stay there. One flick to comms and you are toast.”

“Gordon-“

“No. Screw this. You guys might be worried about each other, but we care about you too. I’ve had to pick both of you off the floor just recently and it was not fun! Think about that!” Gordon was yelling. “Do as you are damn well told and get better!”

“Gords?” And Virg was moving, throwing off his covers.

“Didn’t you hear a word I just said?!”

Virgil froze. The anger emanating off his brother was fiery and so out of character, Virgil’s heart skipped a beat.

“Gordon?” And Scott rose unsteadily to his feet.

Those angry eyes whipped around and targeted Scott. “For God’s sake, sit down!”

The door behind Gordon was suddenly shoved open and John barrelled through. Aquamarine eyes caught the scene and Gordon was grabbed from behind before he could launch himself at his brothers.

“Gordon.” John wasn’t stronger than his fish brother, but his presence was enough and Gordon wilted in his arms.

“John, your turn to tango. I’ve had it.” He slipped from his brother’s grip and stormed out.

Virgil remembered to draw a breath, but then his eyes were caught by an aquamarine glare and he knew he was dead.

“Scott, get into bed.” It was said quietly, but with intent. Virgil was not surprised when his eldest brother did exactly as he was told without protest.

He did worry at how pale Scott was and had to fight the urge to climb out of bed and help him, broken ankle or not.

John pinned Virgil with his eyes.

Virgil pulled the covers back over himself and said nothing.

His space brother made sure Scott was comfortable, but didn’t say anything further until the pilot relaxed back onto his pillows. John then moved to the ends of their beds and turned to face both of them.

“I expect better.” He held their eyes a moment longer. “I need to see to Gordon.” Their little brother turned away, his back dismissing them. He flicked an eye to the ceiling. “Eos, monitor please. Alert Grandma as needed.”

“Yes, John.” Virgil startled at the sharp but not unexpected response.

John didn’t spare them anything else before he left.

Virgil’s heart sank through the floor.

-o-o-o-

Gordon was absent for most of the rest of Virgil’s stay in the hospital. Fortunately, that stay wasn’t very long, just one more night and Virgil suspected Grandma had had a word to the doctors to achieve that.

He slept most of it, comforted by the sound of Scott’s breathing. His brother had to stay in a little longer considering his three days of non-responsiveness, but Grandma intervened and sent Virgil home to the Island.

It felt like banishment.

But he also felt like he deserved it for worrying his family so much.

At the time it had seemed the only logical course. He had to stay with Scott.

Just had to.

Stepping out of the situation clarified it for him somewhat and gave him his family’s perspective, ever so clearly.

He vanished into his studio for two days.

Gordon had come home with him, obviously still playing the big brother tango thing that he and John obviously used as some kind of strategy to herd Scott and himself. It was somewhat ridiculous, but he could now see why.

There was more guilt, on top of guilt.

The paint was angry.

On the third day there was a knock on his studio door. “Virgil?”

John.

Virgil closed his eyes and sighed. Scott was returning today and the paint splattered all over the canvas he had been prodding since six in the morning was going nowhere.

There was a lot of blue.

So much blue.

“Virgil?”

He put down his paintbrush and realised there was also a lot of blue on him. He brushed at his shirt, but half of it was dry and the other half just smeared and made it worse.

All blue.

“Virg?”

“Come in.” It was resigned.

The door unlatched and John peered into the room, eyes exploring in that critical way his little brother absorbed everything until they latched onto Virgil. “Hey.”

“Hey.” Virgil grabbed a rag and scrubbed off the wet paint on his hands. His skin crackled where some had dried.

Those eyes fixated on him, drifting down to the ankle and the crutches on the floor.

John sighed. “Virgil...”

The engineer connected the dots and pressed his lips together. “I’m fine. Stop worrying.” To emphasise the point, he dragged over the stool he had been using for most of the morning and planted his butt on it. “See.”

John’s eyes lowered a little, but he didn’t back down. Instead, he shut the door behind him and made his way over to Virgil. Grabbing another stool, he sat down next to him in front of the painting from a blue sculpted hell.

John’s aquamarine eyes both blended and clashed with the colour scheme. “I sense a theme.” It was said lightly, almost an invitation to truce.

“It sucks.” The blue was smeared in streaks over more streaks. It spoke of canted speed and pain. Paint cracked again as Virgil tightened a fist.

It didn’t go unnoticed.

“It wasn’t your fault.” Ever so quiet and calm.

And days worth of frustration and guilt surfaced. “I have the equipment, John. I should have scanned. One little scan and so much hurt could have been avoided.”

“Fine. We will add infrastructure scans to our standard procedure. Name the type and we will do it.”

The simple statement brought Virgil up short.

John raised an eyebrow. “You expected something else?” His expression softened. “No one is blaming you, Virgil. No one but yourself.”

“Scott almost died.”

“But he didn’t.”

“John...” He let his head drop. “I can’t...”

A hand landed on his shoulder. “Virgil, you don’t have to. Scott will be fine.”

Virgil swallowed and turned back to his painting. An absent smear of blue with a thumb. He frowned and pushed himself to his feet. A finger here, another smear there. He grabbed his palette and added some red, still finger painting. White and a touch of Payne’s grey, more blue and more white and for a moment he lost himself in the process.

“It’s Thunderbird One.” It was said quietly, but with awe. “How did you do that?”

Virgil didn’t answer, grabbing a brush and, using the point at the end of the handle, scratched in the casual detail of his big brother’s ‘bird.

Lines he knew ever so well.

A fingernail of red and blue and Scott appeared aboard the facsimile of the rocket plane.

Virgil shuffled backwards on one foot. “I can’t fly her.”

He heard the frown rather than saw it. “Yes, you can.”

“No. No, I’m not Scott. Never Scott.” He turned to face his little brother as the emotions poured onto his face, raw and desperate. “I can’t lose him, John. I can’t.”

Aquamarine eyes widened. “Virgil?”

Realising exactly what he was saying, Virgil turned away and put the paintbrush down and swallowed his fear. “You’re right. I’ll write new procedures. It won’t happen again.” He grabbed a rag and concentrated on scrubbing the paint off his fingers.

But John was having none of it, he grabbed Virgil by the shoulders. “Now you listen to me. You have four brothers. Four, Virgil. If the worst happens. We will work it out.” Those hands tightened. “We. Will. Work. It. Out.” John pulled him into his arms and he was being hugged ever so tight.

John’s shirt was smooth against his cheek.

Virgil closed his eyes.

“I’m sorry.” It made it past his tight throat.

John didn’t respond other than to hold him even tighter.

-o-o-o-

John had him clean up and have a shower. Virgil was tired and arguing required more energy than he had. Thunderbird Five was doing his big bro tango with skill.

Following that, his red-haired brother rounded him up and escorted him, crutches and all, to the kitchen and the sounds of family.

Virgil almost baulked, but a gentle hand in the middle of his back nudged him down the stairs.

“Virgil! Scott’s home!” Alan bounced up to him, nothing but glee-filled relief on his face and the engineer couldn’t help but lift his own mood to match.

The sight of his big brother sitting at the table, pale and wan, managed Virgil a step further in relief, but a step back in worry. “Shouldn’t you be in bed?”

“And good morning to you, too, Virgil.” Scott shoved a forkful of pancake into his mouth, making a point to lick the maple syrup off his lips. “Besides, look in the mirror.”

Virgil was aware of Alan shooting him a concerned look, but he ignored it.

The room was filled with the wonderful smell of fresh cooked pancakes. A glance into the kitchen itself and Virgil found Gordon at the stove, busily producing the pancakes that Scott was so eagerly consuming.

“It’s lunch time.” It was a redundant statement, and said without thought.

He paid for it appropriately.

“Pancakes for lunch is perfect for an invalid fresh home from the hospital.” Gordon’s tone was sharp and Virgil was forced to realise his fish brother hadn’t yet forgiven him.

His heart sank.

“Sit down, Virgil, before you fall down.” Scott was eyeing him as he shoved another forkful in his mouth.

He got cream on his nose.

Alan immediately pointed it out and cracked up laughing as Scott purposefully attempted to lick his own nose and made a complete idiot of himself in the process.

Anything for his brothers.

Virgil sighed as John pointed him to a seat beside their eldest brother. A short stack of pancakes were procured and placed in front of him, as was some orange juice.

He opened his mouth, but before he could say anything, John shut him down. “No coffee. And don’t think I don’t know that you’ve been sculling the stuff all morning. I’ve seen the free range coffee cup herd in your studio.”

Virgil grunted and glared at the glass.

Condensation reflected his image back at him thousands of times at the microscopic level.

He let the sounds around him merge into the soundscape.

Each brother had his own pitch. His own timbre. Kayo waltzed through at one point, her voice a higher melody amongst the masculine chorus.

Alan’s laughter bounced around the room like someone had dropped a set of cymbals and they were clattering into everything.

Gordon’s tone was unusually sharp and Virgil closed his eyes, knowing it was his fault. His sunshine brother was well into the brass section today.

John was a woodwind. Calm, quiet, melodious. Subtle and sneaking up like a dramatic lead into a surprise.

And Scott…

Virgil’s forehead furrowed.

Scott conducted it all. His warm voice drew it all together and made it work. He was the creator of the symphony that was their family.

Something cold and wet was suddenly smeared on his nose.

What the-?

He opened his eyes to a mixture of white blob and laughing blue.

Somewhere, Alan cracked up again. He must have fallen over, because there was a crash and a squawking Gordon, who in turn began to laugh his ass off.

“That’s a great look, Virg.” Scott was grinning at him.

Beyond Scott, John was smiling ever so fondly.

Virgil turned back to his big brother. “That better be cream.”

His brother’s grin got even wider.

Virgil just stared at him a moment longer before poking out his tongue and casually licking the cream…it was thankfully just vanilla whipped cream…off the end of his nose in one quick swipe.

The room erupted in both awe and horror.

“How the hell did you do that?”

“Ew, gross!”

Even John had a rather weirded out expression on his face.

Only Scott was unfazed, still grinning as if he knew what would happen.

Which he did.

Which was probably why he had done it in the first place.

For his brothers.

Virgil grabbed a napkin and wiped his nose clean properly. He dropped it on the table and then, shifting his chair over a little, let himself slide gently sideways until his head was against Scott’s shoulder. “Glad to have you back.”

Still smiling. “Glad to be here.”

The exclamations of both awe and ew continued until it became a war between the terrible two and who had the longest tongue.

Virgil just let his eyes close and relaxed against his big brother. Eventually an arm crept around him and pulled him a little closer. It felt warm.

It felt safe.

“I’m sorry.” It was a whispered exhalation.

“Nothing to be sorry about.”

Virgil grunted, but was too comfortable to disagree.

Scott was home, and the familiar sounds of his family swelled around him, leaching away the worry and the fear.

It felt safe.

Because Virgil was a brother and obviously, Scott would do anything.

For his brothers.

-o-o-o-

FIN.

[entertainment]

Entertainment Spotlight: Lisa Edelstein, The Kominsky Method

From her role as Dr. Lisa Cuddy on the hit Fox series House to her starring role as Abby McCarthy in Bravo’s first scripted series Girlfriends’ Guide to Divorce, Lisa Edelstein’s range of roles are as diverse as her talent. You can catch her playing a recurring role in the Golden Globe winning Netflix series The Kominsky Method, and she recently reunited with House creator David Shore for an arc on The Good Doctor. Edelstein resides in Los Angeles with her husband, artist Robert Russell, two step-sons, and several rescue dogs. She volunteers her time with a variety of charity organizations including Best Friends Animal Sanctuary, The Anti-Defamation League, Planned Parenthood, and The Center for Reproductive Rights. Lisa took the time to answer some questions about her career. Check it out:

Do you have a favorite line or scene from season 2 of The Kominsky Method?

My favorite scene from Season 2 of “The Kominsky Method” is making amends to my father. I love so many things about it. First of all, you get a real glimpse of the father/daughter dynamic that created a child like Phoebe, because Alan is hilarious and his character is incredibly tough on her. Secondly, Phoebe has a little bit of sobriety under her belt, but she is nowhere near understanding how awful her behavior has been or how badly it affected people. She still thinks everyone has a “take to your grave” list of mistakes they’ve made. And I love, when out of desperation because her father is so mad at her, that she even suggests the housekeeper might have done something ELSE wrong to deserve being deported directly to death squads. Anything to get daddy off her back. It’s such an incredible scene with so many layers of sickness, it’s the most fun to play.

What type of scripts and roles are you drawn to?

Anything that’s well written. I really try not to preplan my future parts because they always come as a surprise and are more interesting then moving in a strictly linear fashion. I try not to play the same person over and over again, in a row, because that gets you into trouble. The minute you play something well, you get ten offers to play the same part in other shows and for me it was always important to push back against that and wait til I could do something new. Not everyone manages their career in that way and it’s neither right nor wrong, it’s just how I like to move through the world. Our business is very difficult to succeed in. I always felt that we fight so hard to get our careers, you better make sure its a career you enjoy.

Did you do any research or shadowing to prepare for your roles on House and/or The Good Doctor?

Not really. My father was the town pediatrician. I used to go to the emergency room with him for fun; “help” him give stitches and such. Don’t worry, I wasn’t actually stabbing needles into people’s wounds, but I would be the “cotton swab holder” or some such. I just thought it was so cool. So, I always loved medicine. Being on “House” was the perfect way for me to be a doctor: no med school, no one dies IRL, and totally awesome and completely hospital-inappropriate outfits. As for “The Good Doctor,” I was just happy to work with David and crew again and torture Richard Schiff. Richard played my dad on one of my earliest series, “Relativity,” then we worked together on “The West Wing,” so we go way back.

How do you get into the mindset to play Phoebe in The Kominsky Method?

To me, Phoebe is a woman with the brain of a hurt, angry, lonely 14-year-old. In season one, that’s all you really see of her, acting out till someone notices. In season two, you really see her first true attempt at growing up. But every conversation with her dad tries to suck her back into the same adolescent dynamic. So it’s not about finding some ulterior mindset, it’s more about just reaching into a part of myself I can certainly remember. It’s letting go of a few adult ideas and allowing that rich dynamic Chuck created to wash over me. She’s sort of a permanently injured teenager although Season 2 leaves some space for her to find her way into recovery for real.

Is there a specific role or moment that you feel was most impactful to your career up to this point?

There are a series of moments, not a specific one. Jobs that led to other jobs, moments that I knew meant as much for the moment as they would for my future. But I’m not one with a lucky break. I’m fortunate enough to be in this industry and actually work, so there’s that. But I’ve never taken great leaps forward, just little steps. I got my SAG card because I chastised Oliver Stone in my audition for “The Doors” and he liked my sass. So that got me one line you can’t see on screen, but it also got me my SAG card. Step one! I had moments in auditions for jobs I didn’t even get that made casting directors believe in me and push for me to get future work. I got cast for the live episode of “ER” because of a good audition then the director called me last minute to replace an actor on an episode of “Sports Night” which led to two episodes and then to sex worker Laurie on “The West Wing.” Bryan Singewr was a huge “West Wing” fan and loved my character and fought to cast me on “House” as Cuddy. So work begat work. Step by step. With a lot of other steps in-between.

Thanks for taking the time, Lisa!

[socratoteles]

A year to get Ph.D in letting go

The last time I was here, I wrote that perhaps it was time for me to go out and just enjoy the world. And amid the global pandemic, I sort of managed to do that. It was such a lifesaver in a year of goodbyes. I`ll get to that, but let me begin with my coronavirus scare.

On March 4 last year, I was away in Bandung, aware but not worried of some obscure virus that triggered a total lockdown in some Chinese cities. That very same day was also the time when my colleagues came in contact with a man who later confirmed of having contracted COVID-19.

That was how close I was of contracting the virus. Had I not taken a paid leave to write last year’s essay in the city where I was born, chances were high that I was another case as well, at that early stage of the pandemic too. I`m still familiar with the helplessness that came after I checked in to a hospital only to being denied the test (the nurse reasoned that the contact with my colleagues, who might catch the virus from the confirmed man, cannot be categorized as close contact).

And that experience, of confusion and fear of infecting loved ones, left a lasting impression that shaped my behavior going forward. After all, it takes a pandemic to make wearing mask and washing hands could made the difference between life and death.

Covid-induced isolation meant that I spent most of my time being holed up in my room for the past 12 months. To this day the side effects of this solitary existence is still beyond my full grasp. On one hand, this situation had brought out my inner resiliency, resourcefulness and adaptability in the long days and night when things were just so dark. On the other hand, it also forced me to deal with unresolved traumas and numerous intrusive thoughts, which I will get into later.

People get really creative during the long locked-down days, spending it doing viral social media challenges one after the other. Videoconferencing become a thing on its own and for some reason loads of folks played a game named Among Us too, perhaps to remind themselves of the interactions cruelly torn apart because of the virus.

There was also a newfound awareness on class too, because the coronavirus disproportionately affected different individuals with different income level. At least on my part, I was lucky that essential workers (the pandemic elevated the phrase into such a buzzword) near my place were safe and somehow never contracted the virus. It is worth mentioning that I definitely cannot survive this long if not for the minimarket workers, ride-hailing drivers and dozens of cooks, all of whom must have worked in long hours, despite knowing the risk, just to keep their families fed.

Others, however, were not so lucky. the SARS-CoV-2 had infected more than a million Indonesians a year after it was officially detected in these shores. Millions have lost their jobs as economic activities ground to a halt. The place I currently work was not an exception. Massive layoffs would have happened in my office had the shareholders have enough money to properly compensate their workers.

It was an obviously eye-opening experience to calculate my own severance pay and make sure I could survive on that for as long as possible. The prospect of losing your income during the pandemic –which should be that particular time for anyone to hold on to their what-ifs money– was really awful.

This is the paragraph where I say that I wish nothing but the best for those who left the company simply because they deserve nothing less than that.

But there was another reason why I signed up for a help from professional therapist last year. In the latter part of last year, things got very, very grim. At the risk of oversimplification, let’s just say that I was unable to express my feelings properly to a girl that I really liked, right at the most critical moment when probably both of us needed support from each other. She eventually left with another guy.

Days before that fateful event happened, I was quietly bearing my own burden. After years of convincing myself that I was okay, I was, in fact, not okay, at least mentally. Years of trauma have caught up. It’s too personal to even spell that out here but I`ll just quote this Youtuber just to describe a fitting metaphor. 

“You see, human identity is like a house of card. One that’s always expanding. A story that is ever developing and always referred back to because every memory becomes a new card. Trauma is when a card doesn’t fit because the experience itself is so painful that it’s incompatible with everything else and if you become obsessed with making it fit the whole house of cards can fall apart and you lose the confidence to build anything new.”

Basically, my house of cards came crashing down, hard. At a time, it reduced me into this insecure soul who were unsure that people will accept me for who I was.

The last time I felt this way was a couple years back when my parent’s divorce was formalized. A girlfriend turned ex-girlfriend at that time too. Apparently, the universe has a cruel sense of timing to combine existential crisis with a relationship one.

The road to recovery was rocky, to say the least. I know something fundamental must be addressed, hence the therapy session.

I`m grateful for the company of my friends, either offline or online. (yes, I had become quite loose in terms of isolation because I know I had to prioritize my mental health; COVID-19 be damned). I`m also glad to say that because I talked with my friends about this issue, some of them were also encouraged to seek professional help.

At the height of my despair, I watched La Grande Bellezza (probably for a half a dozen time already) again and found this quote, spoken by the protagonist Jep Gambardella:

“We’re all on the brink of despair. We can only look each other in the face, keep each other company, kid each other a bit. Don’t you agree?”

Someone was kind enough to upload the entire scene on Youtube.

I decided that all bets are off, so I purchased books, many of which had been on my to-read list for years because I know I`ll have to read it when I search for a catharsis. That was how I finally read the Camus’ Myth of Sisyphus, from which I managed to understand what he meant by the absurdities of life. Into the Wild, excellently written by Jon Krakauer, broke my heart too because of Chris Mccandles’ tales somehow mimicked my own, minus the grand adventure part. I finally read Alan Watts too, from whom I learned that efforts to avoid from pain is painful in itself.

And music, a constant part of my life as I know it, helps too. I was saved because Fleet Foxes released a life-affirming record that fittingly spoke about relief, gratitude, and seasonal rebirth. During the darkest days I was just alone with my guitar in my room, terribly singing out the words that these musicians carved out of their soul to release my emotional burden. I was particularly grateful for being reminded time and again that “no one gets it right” but “we’re all supposed to try”.

I made a playlist containing songs that for me served as a reminder to be gentle for myself. You can check that here.

All of that was a roundabout way to say that I indeed, was able to go out amid the pandemic. On one afternoon I just said fuck it, I need to go out and see things. That led me to a weekly socially-distanced walk around the neighborhood, which was therapeutic in itself because the walks allowed me to be fully present and be sensitive to the sights and sounds and smells around me. Nothing is more liberating that allowing your feet to go where it you to go.

I don’t have the full answers yet, but as I wrote his essay, I`m glad to be able to say that I have rebuild my house of cards, with some of the bad cards included as well. It was quite a bumpy ride but when I looked back, this particular tweet was eerily prescient because it rings true today as was the day I tweeted it.

But I walked away from the depths of that bottomless pit not only with knowledge, but also of understanding the parts that made me who I am. I`m also humbled after I saw the abyss for the second time because it suggests that there might be another time when I found myself on the edge of despair.

I`ll never forget the fact that these hard-won lessons came on the back of years of pain, grief and suffering. But it also came on the heels of moments of simple walk in the setting sun and feeling the breeze on the beach too. In fact, I have made it my mission going forward to acknowledge both good and bad things as they are. Because forcing yourself to remember all the bright things when you were in the dark, and vice versa, is a form of self-torture. I hope this essay somehow do that mission justice.

I have said goodbyes to many things in life as the crisis comes and goes, but 2020 goodbyes were simply different. So much so that I thought I have a PhD in letting go already, however absurd that idea is.

[vegetacide]

TaG: Bloodlines (Part 6)

Veg • notables: Little something for Fluffember .. works for several prompts... Brothers,  warmth and together...

Any errors in this are strictly my own

Ty to @gumnut-logic and @scribbles97 for the brainstorming help and the encouragement.

Previous: Part 1 | Part 2 Bit 1 & Bit 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5

Rating and General warning: Mature content head. If you are not a fan of medical issues of a female nature in relation to pregnancy please proceed with caution.

Characters: Virgil, Kayo, (V/K)  Scott, Alan,  John, Gordon and Grandma.

Location: TaG-verse AU | Tracy Island

E N J O Y

8-8-8

Part 6 - Keluarga

The flight home was thankfully an  uneventful affair.

Kayo had fallen asleep almost as soon as the jet’s door had been closed and Virgil had been by her side holding her hand the whole way back to their island.

When the island finally came into sight there was a collective sigh of relief. The stress of everything having sucked the energy right out of all of them and home meant safety, comfort and more importantly; sleep.

Tucking Kayo safely back into their marital bed saw Virgil relaxing for the first time since… well since he’d woken up that morning..God, had it only been twelve hours ago? It felt like a lifetime and the exhaustion weighed on him furiously.

Not that he would be able to get much sleep tonight.

Leaning over his sleeping wife,  he adjusted the sheets and brushed her forehead with a kiss.  She stirred slightly and turned into him, always one to seek his heat even on a tropical island and her eyes blinked open myopically.

“Shhh,  it’s okay.  We’re home.  Go back to sleep.”

Kayo snuggled further under the covers and quiet ‘Love you’  drifted his way as he emptied his pockets of his ID, wallet and personal communication.

A light knock on their door, had him turning and he toed off his boots to muffle his movements before he traversed the short distance.  Opening it he was only mildly surprised to find his brothers on the other side..  All of them.

Holding up a finger he glanced back into the room to make sure everything was in order and that Kayo would have everything she needed. Not that it looked like she would be rising anytime soon.  The whole affair of the day had done her in.

Truthfully, he was happy she was finally getting some rest even if it was ordered and dismantling Shadow had been in his back pocket as a way to convenience her.

Surprisingly though after going through all the details with his family when they were discharged, Kayo looked like she wasn’t in the mood for any more lecturing so the Shadow card hadn’t needed to be played.

She’d barely moved since they’d left the hospital except when he’d move her.   He’d woken her up long enough to pour a drink of electrolytes down her throat and a protein bar into her belly and she’d been out again barely after swallowing the lot.

An uncomfortable trip to the bathroom later which his Grandmother had seen to though he had been hovering just outside the door in case he was needed.  A change of clothes and into bed she went. Out like a light again before her head even hit the pillow.

He was done in himself but his brain was running in circles which didn’t look like it would be giving up anything time soon. So the company just outside the door was a welcome distraction.

Satisfied that his wife would be alright.  He set his comms to alert him if she woke up and carefully crept out the door.

“Hey Virg,”  Alan whispered, stepping up to his brother and giving him a hug.  “How’s Kay?  She gonna be alright?”

Virgil hugged his brother back,  taking the opportunity to ruffle his hair while he was at it.

Alan grumbled at the action and wiggled away.  Smoothing his hair back into place as soon as he was free  and Virgil couldn’t help the smile that upturned his lips at the disgruntled look his littlest brother shot him.

“Hey Space Case.  She’s sleeping but Doc said she’ll be alright. She just needs to get some rest.”

“Looks like you could use some yourself.”  Gordon observed and moved in for a hug as well.

“Thanks, Squid.  Glad you noticed.”

“Well someone has to keep you honest and Kayo..” His eyes did a sweep of him from head to toe. “Well, she’s blinded by all that muscle."

The swat Virgil sent the aquanau's way as easily dodged as he danced out of reach.

Laughing as he used Alan as a human shield who protested loudly at being manhandled,  he tossed out  “All that bulk is slowing you down,  you should lay off the protein shakes.”

Virgil just rolled his eyes.  Trust Gordon to do whatever he could to lighten the mood with whatever tomfoolery he had at his disposal.

It was at that point that he noticed John standing in the back of the crowd of brotherly forms.  “John, when did you get here?’

John just shrugged,  “Not long ago.  I came as soon as I could but that storm system off the coast made taking the elevator down impossible.

“It’s good to see ya in the flesh.” Virgil smiled, stepping forward enveloping the communications expert in a hug. John’s hugs were rare but the returned squeeze was given freely, a testament to the support system his brothers were offering.

“You too, brother mine.”

Scott stepped up next, though he’d been at the hospital with the couple. “Anything you need, let us know.”  He offered and the round of hugging continued.

“I know and I appreciate it.”

He could always count on his family when the chips were down,  there was no doubt about that.

Scott released him, one hand giving his shoulder a squeeze and tipped his head towards the door at Virgil’s back. “Doc’s made arrangements to come out in a couple weeks' time.  Just had the call come through with the details. Shouldn’t be a problem getting him out here for it.  Between us and Aunt Val we have plenty of pilots who can give him a lift.”

“Great,  I’m sure Kay will be thrilled.” The hand on his shoulder squeezed again and Scott gave him a knowing look.

“She’s a fighter.  Hates being benched just as badly if not more so than we do.”

“That’s what I’m worried about..”

“Meh don’t worry about it.  With the Great Doctor Sally Tracy with her sights set on her,  Kayo doesn’t stand a chance.” Gordon piped up.  “Trust me on that one. She’ll be lucky if she can manage to wiggle a toe without Grandma noticing.”

“Well she had to be super vigilant with you, Gordo. We still have no clue how you managed to change the electronic audio to Spanish from the couch.”

Gordon stood up taller,  primped in all his mastery of everything prankster.  “Trade secret. If I tell you, I would have to kill you.”

This time there was no dodging the swats directed at his head from three older siblings though Alan yet again shrieked in protest as he was tossed about like a sac of meat. 

Sally was a practical woman with simple tastes and simple pleasures.   A night of bridge with the girls at the local social club,   bocce ball every other Tuesday with fellow medical alumni and curling once a month with her bereavement group who had become like an extended family to her after her husband had passed.

Simple things, never extravagant.

She grew up with the mentality that to get what you wanted took hard work and determination.  Blood, sweat and tears was her motto through her years of medical training and her intern placement in one of the busiest hospitals in the U.S.

She’d worked hard to get where she was today despite the trials and tribulations of being widowed, dealing with her own grief and that of her son’s and taking charge of his young brood while he wallowed in his pain.

She didn’t fault Jeff for his actions,  she understood them intimately.  She’d lost herself in taking care of the boys to help keep the pain at bay.  Oftentimes pushing them just as hard as she did herself. In the end though despite the odds, she thought everything had turned out all right.

Was the road easy?  No.  Far from it.   Was there things she wished she had handled differently?  Of course.  Her son disappearing into a bottle of despair being one of them.  But the boys had been raised well by their dear mother even if only for a short time.

The eldest who remembered her memory took that care, love and devotion their mother had been known for and poured it into the younger two.  Doing everything within the power of their shattered world to keep the family in one cohesive piece even when their father was absent both mentally and physically.

They’d survived and come out the other end stronger than anything she could have imagined and she wasn’t afraid to admit it and how proud she was of every single one of them.

And true form when one of the brothers stumbled the other four were right there to steady him and get him back on his feet. Providing whatever support that was needed in their own individual ways.

When others would bolt,  her boys rallied.  Diving in head first to shore up whoever was in need.  It’s what made them great at what they did. That core strength of love and support radiated out of everything they touched and because of that they’d helped more than she could count.

Here she was,  coming to check on her adoptive granddaughter and her loving boys where right were she expecting them to be.  Standing as a unit outside Virgil’s door.  Surrounding him and holding him up with hugs, pats on the back and caring words.

She stopped and kept back a few paces, letting them have their moment and watching all the love. They deserved this moment cause they were few and so far in between.

Rescuing the world didn’t leave much time for brotherly interaction and these precious moments needed to be cherished.

Leaning against the wall, she allowed a soft smile to grace her lips.  Something in her movement must have alerted her boys though because no sooner had she settled than one by one they turned her way.  Not surprised in the least to find her there.

She looked at them, taking in the details of the men they had grown into and she locked the details away for safekeeping.

Scott with the little licks of grey at his temple a sign of the stress the last years had put on them all but his eyes sporting the beginnings of laugh lines.

Virgil,  his quiet nature and artist spirit.  Steadfast even with his wife just feet away resting with their babe growing in her belly.   As worried as he was for he felt things more deeply than all of them he put on a brave face. Not wanting youngest brothers to see him waver even though she knew he was.

His eyes spoke volumes.  She could see the exhaustion and fear in them but even so he graced her with a small smile in return.;

John, her star baby.  When had he come down?  Shocked, she frowned slightly as she took in his uniform. He’d need to wear that for a while until he acclimated to Earth’s gravity again.. A downside to living in the stars so far away.   How he managed the isolations, she had no idea. He’d grown up in a house so full of life until there hadn’t been but he’d silently held on.  Striving to be the best at what he did.  

Next was the vivacious Gordon.  Beams of sunshine in his hair and mischief in his eyes.  He’s seen and done a lot in his short life. Days so dark with despair as his broken body healed.  She’s spent many an hour sitting with him in the VA hospital watching and keeping him company as his body painfully knit itself back together again after every surgery but for all of it. He never complained with the exception of food.   Just grinned and bared it though she could see the cracks.  He'd come through it all, scarred and sporting a motley collection of surgical steel plates and bolts and kept on smiling.

And lastly her baby boy,  Alan. Her rocket man.   He’d missed so much in life.  A normal childhood, school, friends and typical boyhood misadventures.  First date,  prom, graduation but he’d still done the family proud and held his head up high.  He flew the stars and was living a dream most kids his age could only dream about.  A tender age but the top of his field and he got to fly a rocket ship.  What kid wouldn’t love that? 

Her boys.  No, her men.  Through diversity and trauma they all stood tall and together.

Pushing away from the wall she went to them and was lost in a sea of hugs.

8-8-8

TBC

NEXT

[dexdgirl]

There is always a sense she gets when he is close. Mr.Scratch. The bastard. Blood soaked to the carpet beneath her feet. But she isn’t scared. After everything he had destroyed. Thomas made a mistake. The same mistake one after another. Rewriting it would only further damage. 

A dark fog surrounds her. She is ready to face her demons. When he steps in view that wide smile digs into her. “You still think he’s still in here, don’t you? That man is dead and gone. This is my life. Not you or Alan can take that away from me.” He takes a step forward. He is cautious. He knows one wrong move could damage him.

A deranged chuckle escapes him. “You will never. NEVER get him back.” She releases a hiss. The darkness stinging at her ankles. Doing what it could to work it’s way inside. “Just admit it. Just lay down and die. You deserved it. You ruined everything. You did. He killed himself because of you. He couldn’t stand you.” Aubrey takes a step forward. Rushing forward. A hand reached out grasping onto his wrist. “I won’t let you take away anyone else’s life. You are just a mistake!” Scratch moves swiftly. His knife burying deep within her abdomen, twisting the blade slowly. Aubrey lets out a grunt. He leans forward whispering softly in her ear. “Do you remember what you told me before the wedding? How you'd make me give up my family? You don’t get it. They were more than that. You are nothing but cheap fiction. A distraction. You are nothing.” Her grip on his wrist grows tighter. Her light begins to burn. Brighter than she could control. 

For that moment. There was a blank space. Her eyes radiating a pure energy. Scratch hops back to save himself. His grip on the knife loosens. “Shit.” His black suit flickers sparks of light. A small burn eating away at his flesh.  Aubrey lost her sights. The light illuminating the surrounding area. Her eyes rolled back into her head. A ringing heard before. Silence. Flashes of memories slipping away. The trees burned away in a matter of seconds from the emitting energy she was giving off. 

That’s when she felt a hand. She couldn’t speak. She couldn’t move. Why couldn’t she.. Without even finishing the hand yanks her back, shoving her back down into Cauldron Lake. She chokes on the water quickly filling her lungs until she passes out. The last thing she sees is Thomas. Floating above the lake. “It is not his time yet. Only Alan can do this. You are not apart of this story yet. And it is not the end of his.”

When she comes to she looks around. There was nothing. The Taken were quiet.. No sign of Scratch. No sign of Thomas. She couldn’t remember.. Why couldn’t she.. She sits on the shore gathering herself. Scratch.. Aubrey couldn’t let him go. She just couldn’t.. All she could do now was wait for Alan.. Make sure he is safe.

[starberry-cupcake]

Disney Concert in Teatro Colón

You folks I cried my eyes out today. The thing hadn’t even started, Donald came out from a theater box dressed in a tuxedo to say hi and I started crying. I was expecting an orchestra and a movie screen and knew I was gonna cry anyway but by the second song, Aladdin and Jasmine were suspended midair in a flying carpet over the entire orchestra and I knew I was in for a journey. By the time the intermission came in, I was bawling and a guy who was recording the crowd for a promotional video was right next to me filming and I was there crying like a baby in the potential promotional video. But anyway, I’m gonna share a bit of a summary, the setlist, descriptions and some pictures (taken when it was allowed to take them) and a bit of an explanation of what this concert was and how it came to be, even if just for my own safekeeping. 

This is a collaboration between Disney Concerts (the part of Disney Music Group which works with licences and promotion for different type of worldwide concert productions, like the symphonic Star Wars concerts or the special orchestra editions of movie releases and so on) and Teatro Colón, their orchestra and conductor (Enrique Arturo Diemecke), their dancers and choreographers, and some stage musical performers and other folk who were brought in for this specific thing (I recognized at least 4 ensemble members from having seen them in local productions of musicals like Bare, Pleybill and Phantom). 

I thought it was going to be like those movie editions which have a screen and the orchestra. It was enough to want me to see it and know for sure I was going to cry, but it ended up having on stage performances with effects, costumes, face characters, beautiful scenery and puppetry. 

Before the show began, Donald, Goofy and Pluto came out from boxes on the sides of the stage to say hi to the audience and once it began Mickey and Minnie also joined. All the fab 5 had costume changes, Mickey was the one to have most of them. 

The setlist was as follows: 

Act I (52 minutes)

Overture (Bob Hilliard/Jimmie Dodd/Sammy Cahn/Al Hoffman/Jerry Livingston/Allie Wrubel/Sammy Fain/Mack David/Ray Gilbert/Richard Sherman/Robert Sherman)

This was a great medley with a lot of things I won’t fully remember but you can guess by the composers listed. It included Zip-a-dee-doo-dah, The Mickey Mouse March, various Cinderella songs (I teared up there), Peter Pan’s You Can Fly!x3, Small World and a Mary Poppins medley, among others. I loved that one of the kids next to me shouted more for Mary Poppins than for any other movie in the entire concert, he was so excited when Chim Chim Cher-ee started. I mean, same. Also in the end there was a Walt quote with his photo and I was crying once more. 

Aladdin

Friend Like Me (Howard Ashman/Alan Menken)

This was sang by 3 singers rather than only one and had a very big choreography including pyrotechnics, ensemble singers, dancers and a lot of props. 

A Whole New World (Howard Ashman/Alan Menken)

I already mentioned it but there was an actual carpet suspended over the orchestra which flew around the stage with Aladdin and Jasmine as they sang this one, with the movie background on a double screen. It was pretty magical. 

The Princess and the Frog

Down in New Orleans (Randy Newman)

I loved how this song was performed but I was confused by Tiana’s costumes in both songs, this one had an entire ensemble singing as well, with props and really nice costumes. 

Almost There (Randy Newman)

Tiana had a costume change but I still didn’t quite understand it because they didn’t match the movie ones. I mean, they were appropriate for the time period, but not quite like any of hers. Maybe they changed the palette because of staging reasons idk. She didn’t have the dress from the parks either, maybe because it isn’t very comfortable for dancing. In any case, Tiana had a great voice and this song isn’t easy to keep up with but she did great. 

Fantasia

The Sorcerer’s Apprentice (Paul Dukas)

This was just the orchestra with the movie sequence, without any actors until the very end, which I appreciated because I wanted to see the orchestra performing a segment I have so vividly in my mind I can hear it in my head and see what each instrument was doing. Kids got scared because who didn’t get scared with Fantasia as a kid. In the last bit, Mickey came in with his red robe and the two buckets and it was adorable. 

Beauty and the Beast

Be Our Guest (Howard Ashman/Alan Menken)

Lumiere had a similar outfit to the Broadway production and, like in the Broadway production, was one of the only characters, aside from the fab 5, to interact with the audience. Lumiere is always a good MC. The performance was also similar to the Broadway one but scaled down for the occasion, it was like a simplified version of that one, in a way. 

Beauty and the Beast (Howard Ashman/Alan Menken)

The entire audience audibly gasped when Belle and the Beast came in. The performance was based on the Celine Dion/Peabo Bryson version instead of the movie one, so there were two singers instead of one, all dressed in period attire and Belle’s dress was more sparkly than her usual, to glimmer under the lights of the theater. It was so magical. 

Sleeping Beauty

Sleeping Beauty Medley (Piotr Tchaikovsky)

This was a medley that involved some of the ballet music, including Once Upon A Dream and I Wonder. There were no singers and a couple of ballet dancers in their classic attires for this ballet rather than characterized as in the movie, which is something I’ll mention again later. It was very beautifully performed. 

Mulan

Reflection (David Zippel/Matthew Wilder)

The performance was based on the pop single more so on the movie version, much like with Beauty and the Beast and not like in Aladdin where they kept the movie one. I assume this had to do with length, since it was the only Mulan song featured, so they went with the longer version. There was some choreography and an ensemble together with her on stage. 

Pirates of the Caribbean

Pirates of the Caribbean Medley (Klaus Badelt/Geoffrey Zanelli/Ramin Djawadi/James Dooley/Hans Zimmer/Sreve Jablonsky)

Well, this was inescapable. It’s not the first thing I think of when I think “Disney concert” but the music is good and it appeals to a big audience and the performance was pretty epic, so it’s ok. The sequences didn’t showcase actors specifically much, it was more an edited track with action and scenes along with the tempo of the music, which was cool. I have to admit I got kind of focused on the fact that as this was going, they were setting up the props for the next segment, which I was looking forward to. 

Moana

Tulou Tagaloa (Opetaia Tavita Foa’i)

There were several effects in the Moana segment and it started with one third of the stage, which had been lowered, coming back up with someone starting to sing, then the opposite third also came up, with the middle of the stage still “submerged” in the ocean. 

How Far I’ll Go (Lin Manuel Miranda)

Moana came in from beside the orchestra and she moved across the stage with the boat still submerged in the ocean. This part made me weep, I’m not even gonna lie. Moana’s outfit wasn’t exactly like the one in the parks but wasn’t as far off as Tiana’s, it was a bit of a blend. This was one of my favorite performances overall. 

We Know The Way (Lin Manuel Miranda/Opetaia Tavita Foa’i)

If the first two parts of the Moana segment made me weep, here I was outright crying. The ocean rose to the shore with several dancers and performers, a part of which used a sheet and movements to lift Moana’s boat and carry it to her, it looked amazingly impressive. 

Intermission (20 minutes)

Act II (43 minutes)

Fantasia 2000

The Firebird Suite (Igor Stravinsky)

This one, much like the segment from the first Fantasia, was just the screen with the animation accompanied by the orchestra. I was surprised they’d include something from Fantasia 2000 but given that there were a good amount of classics included, this one was a good choice with the animation being one of the most well-remembered of Fantasia 2000. It didn’t give me the chills The Sorcerer’s Apprentice did though. 

Hercules

Zero to Hero (David Zippel/Alan Menken)

BOY OH BOY I LOVED THIS ONE. The Muses were great, there was a chorus of ladies and they danced and everything was beautiful. The Muses were on the lower stage in pillars posing as statues and as the music started, the stage came up and they started dancing. Before the song began the orchestra did the intro for the movie with the scene of Olympus and a bit of Go The Distance. 

A Star Is Born (David Zippel/Alan Menken)

PEOPLE WERE SO INTO THIS ONE. The little girl in front of me was dancing so much and I don’t think she even saw Hercules at all because she didn’t know who they were but she was so into it and I’m glad, Hercules deserves more love. These ladies brought the house down in two songs, it was epic. 

Tangled

When Will My Life Begin & Reprise (Glenn Slater/Alan Menken)

Rapunzel came in on a gorgeous piece of scenery painted like her room with props and stairs and the Claire Keane painting and at least 3 grown ups around me sighed when they saw her and I started weeping again. This was the point when I realized I know most of these songs in two languages by heart and I sang along all the Tangled songs in Spanish too. Rapunzel was gorgeous, her outfit was just like in the parks, as was her hair, and her voice was so good. She sang both the original and the first reprise back to back. 

I’ve Got A Dream (Glenn Slater/Alan Menken)

The stage that was lowered came up again with a good bunch of the pub thugs with the Snuggly Duckling on the screen behind. Some where doing pirouettes and it was impressive. Then there were even more thugs coming in and Eugene entered a bit later, when everyone was singing. The crowd noticed, let me assure you. He sang his bit and then Rapunzel did hers and when the song was done, the thugs said goodbye and left them along to sing the last part. 

I See The Light (Glenn Slater/Alan Menken)

OH BOY THIS. I LOST IT AT THIS. The moment Eugene brought out the lantern, the entire theater illuminated faintly with lights and there were projectors with the Corona sun lighting up the ceiling. Now, for context, let me show you some picture of the theater. 

Imagine those lights faintly glowing with he rest of the lights out. Now look at this chandelier. 

Picture that chandelier with its multiple tiny yellow lights also glowing and the ceiling illuminated by corona suns. 

Everything while the stage there had Rapunzel and Eugene and one lit lantern in their hands. Amazing. The Tangled bit was the best bit and people loved it the most as well. 

The Nutcracker and the Four Realms

Waltz of the Flowers (Piotr Tchaikovsky) 

I personally think this was a bit of a cop out, in terms of song selection, people aren’t immediately thinking of Nutcracker when they think Disney, even if Helen Mirren is my goddess, but the performance allowed the kid dancers to perform and they were so good I can’t complain. They were adorable and the girl playing Clara was stellar. 

Tarzan

Two Worlds (Phil Collins)

So, these performances were a bit strange but I can’t complain because some of the ensemble members are performers I’ve been following for a while and I really like, so I’ll allow it. The group of singers were dressed in rock attire, I guess, not in any sort of Tarzan related clothes, maybe it was a take on making it more Phil Collins-y. 

You’ll Be In My Heart (Phil Collins)

This one was sang primarily by one lead singer and accompanied by the previous ensemble. Remember when I said the ballet dancers from Sleeping Beauty didn’t have their movie character costumes? There was a couple dancing to this song as the singer performed it and their costumes looked more like what I was expecting from Sleeping Beauty than from Tarzan (pink dress, red-ish vest, boots, you know the thing). I wonder (pun intended) what happened there. I attended the very first of 6 shows so maybe it was something that they’ll fix later. 

Son of Man (Phil Collins)

Ok so, here’s the thing. This song is my weakness. I love it. I know it in two languages and I sing it in both. I have an unreasonable amount of love for this song and it was performed so well and Pilar Muerza is one of my favorites and she nailed the song so I’m happy with this. 

Frozen

Do You Want To Build A Snowman? (Robert Lopez/Kristen Anderson-Lopez)

This was sung by only little Anna and it was more heartbreaking than the movie. Only the first two bits were performed and the “hang in there, Joan” bit was so cute. Little Anna did great. 

For the First Time In Forever (Robert Lopez/Kristen Anderson-Lopez)

This one was also just Anna’s bit, and here we had face character singer Anna, with her parks attire (not the coronation one, the other one). She was a good Anna, her energy was really great and she was accompanied by an ensemble to sing with and perform with on stage. 

Let It Go (Robert Lopez/Kristen Anderson-Lopez)

Instead of moving towards Elsa’s bit on the previous song, the medley changed to Let It Go, which was performed fully. I thought this was going to bring the house down but apparently Tangled and Hercules were the favorites over Elsa in this round. There wasn’t a dress change (I have not seen a single Elsa outfit and hair in any incarnation of Frozen by Disney I have liked, not in the parks, not on Broadway, not on UOAT, not On Ice, not here either). But, this Elsa could sing. She was one of the best singers of the day and the competition was tough. I’ve seen this song performed SO MANY TIMES and very rarely I see someone nailing it 100%, this girl did. There were snow effects and light effects but the Tangled effects had already spoiled us from the best of the best. 

The Lion King

The Circle of Life (Tim Rice/Elton John)

This was one of the favorites of the audience, hands down. It was a blend between the Broadway version, with some of the costumes, puppets and stilt performers, and halfway kid-friendly, with some more noticeable animal costumes, which were also very nice. There was a huge ensemble for this one, a kid chorus, the stage elevated again and a row of animals entered from the hallway and onto the stage. This was a huge performance. 

Finale

Fantasmic (Bruce Healey)

Am I the only one who cries when she hears the Fantasmic song? I cannot deal, I don’t know what is. Is it the idea that imagination defeats pain and sorrow? Is it that it brings you to a magical place where good is always stronger than evil? Is it Mickey? I don’t know, but Fantasmic, guys. In this one, the fab 5 were on stage all together, Pluto entered first, then Goofy, then Donald (who was the best, as usual), and then Minnie (who made a pirouette, in those shoes) and Mickey, who said goodbye and thanked the audience. Some of the face characters who had performed came in for a last bow and both Minnie and Mickey brought the conductor to the front of the stage and people clapped and gave a standing ovation. 

And that’s all, my experience crying my eyes out in a Disney symphonic concert. I missed having The Litter Mermaid and Snow White featured, but that’s ok. If anything, I wanted to keep this all in my blog for safekeeping, now that it’s fresh in my memories, because it was an amazing experience I want to keep forever. Also, Mickey told us to never give up on our dreams in the end and that also made me cry. 

[cum-om-me]

Personal Entry:

Otter here, first i guess itd be fair to explain a few things up top.

Firstly Otter is a metaphorical alter ego which was created based of a nick name given to me in highh school.

I was coined as "the nomadic Otter" due to my well known history of drifting continuously through this existence being born in a foreign land not to many continents away,but like a gracious river otter flowing with the rivers which eventually reach the seas, i was always stoned more naive, but ironically zen. I was brought here by my single mother at four yrs old, my father was never in the picture nor was i allowed to speak about him or inquire about him to my family and those who may have any information regarding the history of my own coming into being.

We became permanent residents four years later and im currently going through the process of naturalization. I went through the american education system since pre kindergarten so naturalization has occured as an outcome, but just isn't finalized and paid for so i am now going through that initiation. Ive paid and gone through the preliminary round.

We landed in a small town in texas, age four. Came to california at fifteen, twenty years id moved one year to, year and a half due to my mothers profession In the medical field, sometimes, or i guess i should say almost always, we would have to go to where the work was most needed in order to sustain our basic living, taking us all over texas and parts of southern california. After eighteen yrs of age, i left home with duffel bag and a guitar because i wanted to escape the conventual fate planned for me by my elders.

Nature loves courage.... And it is Apparently so.

Of course there are so many factors and so much information to divulge to add the proper context to the point im trying to get to in the conclusion of this story. Im afraid id diverge so ill have to return to all that some other day.

Now that you understand where the otter ego within me (pun intended) was teased and entertained as an ideal character for the person i am, its seeds didnt really start sprouting till last year (2019) and its peaked above the mud, i can explain my newly found understanding of the purpose of using this "alter ego" "character" "avatar" to be able to dissolve the borders of my own limitations as a person creating art. To be able to truly entertain these thoughts through the medium of the otter avatar and not as the man, for it has been increasingly difficult for me to be able to contemplate and philosophize with my peers and the community of souls i once accepted as my tribe, in a way of intellectual taste and progress.. Now it seems the bridges between me and the village are dissolving and im trying to understand why. I stand on the side which i believe to be that of the importance of knowledge of self, critical thinking, and responsible skepticism in order to be able maintain reason within the tribe, to perserve that which is most human in our nature, in comparison to the madness we have seen over and over throughout history displaying itself in obvious patterns of repetition that consumed mobs rabidly, making itself its own enemy. Lets use a symbolic metaphor. The snake eats its own tail in the delusions of unity to find when its finished nothing remains but its mind left exposed, and without protection from even the weakest but competent prey.

You see the metaphors are simply the inner poet, using symbolic visual linguistic tools to paint a clearer picture.

We are a story driven organism, just ask the keepers of morality and the stories of god which has defined the basis of our now hypocritical society using it like a crutch too old to withstand the withering of time, frail and ready to snap like a twig beneath ones feet.

As george carlin once said "no one seems to notice, no one seems to care" and every debate that has naturally transpired in my social structures as of late has lead to a point where logical conclusions, non threatening ones at that, lead to the opposing side raising their white flag and settling for mediocrity. "I dont care, leave me alone"

Then the attack on personality and character are used as a defenses to preserve the beliefs already founded due to the uncomfortable nature of growth.

I sit and watch as i always have the flicker, flame and smell of the bridge burning in blazes right before my teary eyed soul.

Am I no longer included, wanted by the collective community? Has my own pursuit for knowledge, understanding, truth and the inner rapture of personal discovery lead me to ruins door? Am i incapable of getting out of my own way? Can you even go to far within yourself?

No one wants me to feel but its not ok to feel nothing at all

To think but, only on the agreeable subjects of status quo

To speak when spoken to but to only speak what is conveniently easy to digest by a still watered mind threatened by the chaos of waves beating on the shores of its shared sands.

Has erosion driven us mad. Have the corrupted springs poisoned our waters too far beyond repair.

Must i reluctantly recluse amidst the tides and hide underneath lonely currents that travel vast desserts beneath oceans.

Pandemics, parks closed, beaches are now illegal to its native children, by a seemingly upset stepdad whos love is equal to obedience and incapable of parenting,it seems theyre now gunning for the fringe, the free, the open, the love expressed through physical incarnation as its own self love for its own existence, through the odd, differnt, freaks, weirdos, mutants, prophets, and visionaries

Why should i fight for those who dont care about their own person their, own freedom.

Why stand for those who wouldnt even stand with you, nor for you.

"Those who trade freedom for security deserve neither"

-Benjamin Franklin

Yet who am i to claim that anyone deserves anything or doesnt. So regardless of the I Dont Care Generation emerging. I choose to care for not what is principles of good or evil but what i intuitively feel is sincere and right. So I must begin with myself and only in following intention will i be able to incite any real change. By making a difficult choice and knowing that it feels as though the risk is worth the gamble.

So now ive heard loud and clear and i have nothing else to let go of but this. So ill hold my tongue and wish for the best. For the eutopia not the the sneaky slip into distopia.

There's nothing further i can do other than create, experiance, enjoy, let go, and face the music, To put it as Alan Watts did, " this doesnt mean you wont jump when you hear the bang, or that you wont feel fear, but youll accept it, and the person who understands the tao in the morning my sleep peacefully at night"

"Once the mind has been extended it cant ever go back"

-Terrence Mckenna

I hope that you know ive accepted the multitudes of possible outcomes for our future, i may be optimistic but i feel prepared, oddly prepared. This isnt a statement or message based on fear but something none the lesse my heart cannot hold in.

So Otter is born so to speak to embody the imagination im trying to let out without it being taken seriously, but sincerely and within the temple of the timeless. Art.

Without it having to be the me, the person, that funny feeling between the eyes that screams out I, who finds himself walking away from flames due to trial and failure in channeling its own expression. I will not desist i just must evolve and create the platform on which i may rebuild. The system updated and the restart brought about change. Now we begin again. Full of breath, with new found vision, i forgive myself for my failures but i wouldnt ever be able to look at my own reflection if i didnt try until i got it right. I vow to myself and olny to myself for thats the only source of validation needed to exist freely, sovereign, that i will do my best to be who i am meant to be, the being and self of my choosing.

"Most people spend their lives trying to find themselves, lifes about creating yourself"

-Bob Dylan

So in conclusion i know im different, and it may be intimidating but you cant just get rid of it, turns out you must overcome it, and the only way out is through and for me that began when i went within.

I am all for the rules, and being apart of this country and its society and obeying social order but as John Locke wrote in "Common Sense" that this is an unspoken agreement between the govenrment and its people that so long as they are just in ruling us" we will have to obey the law but there must be a way for its people to regain its country when tyranny and injustice is getting in the way of democratic processes and this is coming from a almost fully naturalized immigrant that came here to seek safe haven from a Democratic country plagued by unfairness. It would be a pitty to see it happen to a promise land founded of rich ideals. To those ive come to see as my own brothers and sisters, i love the ideal of true patriotism but where has it gone? If i need to be more protective of my personal privacy so that i may be able to practice my philosophical self studies, music, and comedy, to persue basic creative thinking methods openly. Then i choose this mask nit the one i was told to wear since birth. Theres always an person beneath the mask playing into the drama of this darma and we get into yoga with its fun to preten that we loose ourselves and assume the identity of the character portrayed in the scene in order to truly bring the crowd to the edge of its seat in awe and anticipation of the beauty of its poetry that at the end when the play is concluded both protagonist and antagonist join hands and the audience cheers for both equally for the dazzling deception and its cleverness for playing on the emotions of the observer.

Then the cast returns to the green room and become again who they were naturally.

Im 26 and ive found my character and im ready to submerse myself in its divine play and get involved participate, get lost in the mask of the person which is temporary but the spark behind conciousness seems to be the driving energy of existence benevolent, and eternel. Worth gambling so, now we roll the dice and hit the mystery button, just like the amnesia serum we gave ourselves before conception, into the womb we went. Only when you awaken your consciousness in the dream do you get to control the avatar, lucidly.

It doesnt seem to be a requirement, more like an EXPERIANCE badge rewarded for interesting work in the feild.

These again are ideals, not truths, thoughts and patterns worth examining and if capable entertaining till the conclusions and realizations of truth or delusion run their course. If you havent reached that point you havent really thought it through logistically right?

Lets discuss this comment below.

[sage-nebula]

i was worried about big ol' lizardon, to be quite honest back when you had that one fic about alan meeting a random trainer. also about ash's charizard, so the fact that he's still around (and that ash runs a team of dergs while alan has lizardon and gabby) warms the cockles of my heart. I'm curious about Lapras, actually, since it also has dragon blood? Do the duo run into its pod every once in a while?

Ahh, yes! This one! For the sake of others reading this, I’ll post that little snippet, since it’s small enough to easily fit here:

The dragon was massive—easily ten feet tall, give or take, though Amy supposed she wasn’t always the best at gauging height. Its scales were bright orange, and though the flame atop its tail blazed with enough intensity so that she felt the wash of its heat even from where she stood, the blue eyes it looked at her with seemed gentle.

“Is that … that’s a pokémon, right?” she asked. The boy—the dragon’s trainer, Amy thought, if their matching pendants were anything to go by—nodded. “What is it?”

The boy’s gaze was no less blue, but was somehow more scrutinizing. He looked at her for what felt like a long second before he turned back to his dragon, who turned to meet his eyes.

“He’s a charizard,” the boy said.

“A charizard?” Amy repeated, and heat from the dragon’s—the charizard’s—tail flame was nothing compared to the shock she felt vibrate through her now. “You mean a—the final evolutionary stage of … charmander, right?” The boy nodded, and as he did Amy exclaimed, “I thought they were all extinct!”

The boy glanced at her, something inscrutible in his expression, as the charizard beside him made a sound that, to Amy’s ears, sounded almost … sad, or at least unhappy. Upon hearing the sound, the boy turned away from Amy again, and looked back at his charizard instead. The great dragon ducked his head as the boy raised both hands, and stroked the charizard beneath his jaw.

“Not all of them,” the boy said quietly.

But yeah, Lizardon is just fine. He’s just as immortal as Alan himself is, it just took a little longer for Xerneas’ power / that Infinity Energy to stop his growing completely, thanks to his species. Unfortunately, though, Ash’s charizard is not; he’s still going to live an extremely long time thanks to the fact that he’s a dragon himself (and Charizard, to me, always seemed pretty exceptional even for his species, so I could see him living to be a thousand or more), but he will eventually succumb to old age, since he wasn’t caught up in that blast. (He could have been, had the writers allowed Ash to have Charizard in Kalos, but alas …) Of course, thinking about it, it’s possible that Ash could always ask Xerneas to bless Charizard the way he did the rest of them, but I imagine that might require him to actually do something for Xerneas, and there might not be very much opportunity for that. Additionally, I feel like Ash would have a hard time asking for just Charizard, and not all of his other pokémon as well, which would just cause the favors to pile on and on. It might not be entirely convenient. (Plus, there’s no telling that Xerneas would even want to do that. Does Xerneas want to make other pokémon and humans immortal? Hmm.) 

Anyway, you can ask me questions about Immortality AU at any time! I would have been happy to answer about Lizardon if you’d asked back then, and about Charizard as well, haha. I don’t do very much with it on the regular, but I really do love this AU, and I like thinking about it a lot, too. ♥

As far as Lapras is concerned, that’s an interesting question! To be honest, I never thought of lapras as dragons by species; they’re based on the Loch Ness Monster, and I always considered the Loch Ness Monster to be more of a dinosaur, like a plesiosaur. And I know some people think that dinosaurs are dragons, but for the most part I’ve always disagreed with that. Some of them might toe the line, such as pterodactyls (which is why Lance has an aerodactyl on his team as early as Gen I), but I never thought of dragons when I looked at plesiosaurs, and as such I never really thought of lapras as dragons by species.

But that said, even if lapras aren’t dragons, the fact that the Loch Ness Monster is still alive (I want to believe, okay) tells us that they’re very long-lived, anyway! Lapras are extremely rare even in the modern day thanks to poachers hunting them to near extinction (this is canon as of the Gen I Pokédex entries), so sadly, lapras might have the same fate as charizard a century or two later, back when a lot of the Immortality AU stories take place. They might be more legend than actual ‘mon by this point, a pokémon that people have read stories about, but think don’t actually exist anymore. =( But that said, the idea of something happening to Ash’s lapras is too sad for me to bear, because that precious baby never deserved any of what happened to her in the canon, she was a sweet cinnamon roll too pure for this sinful earth, and the idea of poachers killing her is just … no. No. I refuse to accept that.

So I imagine that what could happen is, perhaps most (or all) of her pod dies or is killed off through some means or another. Maybe at one point there’s an epidemic that spreads throughout the sea and makes different members of her pod sick, and maybe this was even intentionally done by poachers to make lapras easier to snap up. Particularly since lapras, as a species, tend to be very gentle and trusting, it would probably be easy for poachers to “befriend” them, only to actually betray them later and capture them, heal them so that they’re good enough to sell, and then sell them off. (Or maybe even kill them for delicacies … god, that’s dark, but in real life poachers are just that disgusting, so they probably are in the PokéWorld as well.) Lapras managed to escape this. Either her mother (who might have still been alive at the time) urged her to go, or she just recognized when there was nothing that even she could do for her pod and left, but she managed to escape. (Maybe she even was temporarily captured, but fought back and escaped from there. She wasn’t with Ash very long, but though he was of course always gentle with her, he taught her to be a fighter and a survivor. She remembers that even decades later.) 

So she escaped, and then much like the lapras in the Gen II games, she finds a deep cave to live in—a cave where no humans really tread. She’s grieving the loss of her pod, and she has renewed trauma re: humans, so this deep, underground lake is just what she needs right now. There are some other pokémon there, and she does befriend them. She befriends the other aquatic pokémon that live in her massive lake with her, as well as the other cave dwellers that she sees when she surfaces. And she does surface, at least once a week (because I really enjoyed how the Union Cave lapras in Gen II routinely emerged on Fridays). She knows she has to keep pressing on, that she can live underwater most of the time, but that at least once a week she should take some time to enjoy the surface. Her cave is safe. No humans ever come down here.

… Until two humans do.

To be honest, they were just exploring. They were bored. Ash saw the cave, and he suggested they go take a look inside, because why not? Alan figured it might be good—there could be some good training opportunities in there. Ash thought maybe they could find some fossil pokémon. There was no reason not to go in the cave, and a lot of reasons to go into the cave, so into the cave they went. And they ventured through it, eventually coming down to that huge lake on the lowest level. And this just so happened to be the day (because of course it was) that Lapras was spending some time on the surface of her lake, but when all of her land-dwelling friends scattered, she felt true fear and alarm rush through her as well. No humans ever came down to this lake, but those—those were human voices. She was caught frozen, unsure of what to do. Should she plunge back down beneath the surface? Should she fend them off with Ice Beam? If she did, and she failed, she might be captured or worse. If she didn’t, all the other pokémon in the cave might be captured or worse. But—

Her indecision cost her precious time. The two human boys made it to the lake, and the shorter one was the one who saw her first. “Hey,” he said brightly, “a lapras!”

Once again, Lapras felt frozen. She knew that voice.

“A lapras?” the taller boy said. Lapras didn’t know that voice. That boy was a stranger. But the shorter boy—her boy, the one human boy who was there for her when no one else was—always had good taste in friends. His friends were always safe. So— “I can’t believe it. I never thought I’d see one again.” He was smiling, too. This boy, the taller one—he had to be good, too.

And Lapras knew that her Ash was definitely good.

So she called out to him. She swam as quickly as she could over to the shore. And as she did, Ash’s eyes widened. Recognition lit in them. And he said, “Lapras? Lapras! It’s really you!” before he threw himself off the shore and wrapped his arms around her neck, laughing joyfully as she crooned and butted her head against his (so tiny head, he was so small—was he always this small?).

And that was how Ash got Lapras back. He had no idea she was still alive, hadn’t seen her in so long—but when they reunited, he took her with him, because he still had open space on his team, both he and Pikachu were delighted to see her, she was delighted to see him, and Alan was pretty warm to the idea of having her along as well. (Bonus, they also can now comfortably travel across seas. They could always fly, and Ash does have milotic, but lapras are easier to Surf on than milotic, and sometimes their charizard need rest.) 

Anyway, I think that both Ash and Alan would focus their teams on dinosaurs and dragons (and Pikachu), simply for the sake of, well, these particular pokémon are very long-lived, they’re not going to age out and die any time soon, so it’s much easier to bond with them than it might be others. Ghosts could fit this, too, come to think of it; it’s not like a ghost can exactly die of old age. (And I don’t think we’ve ever been told if ghost pokémon can die or not. I’d think they couldn’t, because I mean … they’re not dead, per se, but they kind of are? Some are literally the spirits of dead children, so like …) So with that in mind, teams I imagine for both of them in this AU are:

Ash:

Pikachu (obvs)

Charizard

Garchomp

Noivern

Lapras

Milotic (nicknamed Mystearica, further nicknamed Myst)

Alan:

Lizardon (obvs)

Garchomp (Gabby)

Tyranitar (Bangiras)

Salamence (Bohmander)

Aerodactyl (Ptera)

Mimikyu (Kyuu)

I considered also giving Alan Fulbert’s altaria, since altaria are also dragons, Fulbert was like his grizzly uncle, and so it might make sense for Alan to look after Cumulonimbus as well. But in actuality, altaria are based on mythical birds from Chinese folklore, so I’m not sure if they count as a dragon by species … maybe, maybe not, but it’s also possible that he does take care of Cumulonimbus for a while, but eventually Cumulonimbus passes on. Or maybe Fulbert released Cumulonimbus as he got up there in age and was about to die, who knows. Either way, whether Alan has Cumulonimbus or not, one thing I like about Alan’s team in Immortality AU is that every single ‘mon can mega evolve, with the exception of his mimikyu. Since Alan had a real focus on mega evolution and wanted to become a mega evolution master, the fact that all of the pokémon in his possession can mega evolve is fitting, I think, even if only ever really mega evolves Lizardon.

For the record, that tyranitar is his tyranitar, the very same one he has in canon. I know that tyranitar are sort of based off a type of lizard, but they also kind of always reminded me of Godzilla, which is kind of like a dinosaur. Thus, perhaps Bangiras can live for a long time, too. (And if not, maybe swap out Bangiras for Cumulonimbus?) His salamence was perhaps captured (in its first stage, of course) as a tribute to Zinnia (because I have not let go of my Delta Episode adaptation wherein they become friends; I don’t know how they would meet in a prime timeline scenario, but let me dream), and I think it’d be funny as all hell if his aerodactyl was the very same aerodactyl that had once tried to eat Ash. Maybe they encountered it again, and it once again tried to eat Ash, but Alan decided to solve the problem by capturing it. Taming Ptera takes some work (Ptera has held a grudge), but it’s probably worth it. And I’ve always liked to imagine him getting a timid little mimikyu at some point (such as in my Alola AU), and on top of that, I think the idea that Ash and Alan have teams of dragons and dinosaurs save one (for each of them) is kind of funny. So Alan has his mimikyu, which—as a fairy/ghost—is sort of immortal in its own way.

And while some might think that Alan’s team must not like water very much, type advantage isn’t everything, and Lizardon is about ten feet tall. I really don’t think a little water is going to bother him much, especially when he’s mega evolved and it’s no longer super effective. :P

But anyway, that’s enough ramble from me, haha. Thanks again for asking!!

[ahamortenusa2015]

                                                Take on This!

                                     ----A Journey Like No Other----

                 First off, welcome back!

I know it’s been forever and a day since I last did an installment of Take on This, and I apologize.  My life went into overdrive over the last year-ish—some really great things took an incredible amount of my time; some not-so-great-things threw a monkey wrench into daily life.  To the not-so-great things, I say: I dealt with you, conquered you, and came out a stronger person on the other end.  Also, I learned that I didn’t have time for drama in my life and acted accordingly. It was liberating.

But, enough about that, because…

…a-ha is FINALLY COMING TO THE UNITED STATES!  

I’ll just be over here for a moment while that sinks in.

//whistles while she waits//

Let’s get in the time machine, shall we?  Our story begins in 2014, with two ladies meeting each other over a mutual love of Morten Harket and his music.  Becoming fast friends, they soon found themselves planning a trip to Norway to see him in concert—a dream come true.  Those two gals were none other than Debbie and Clara.  One incredible chance-of-a-lifetime meeting later, they had expressed their desire—right to the man himself—to see him on American shores. Upon returning home, they decided to take it one step further: why not try and get Morten *and* a-ha over here? Now, they knew a-ha had gracefully left us in 2010, but there was always hope in the back of their minds, just as we all had hope.  So, they set up a Facebook page (this very one!) and started a petition (the one we have almost 1,500 names on now!), and decided to see where it took them.

People began to take notice.  Visitors from the page signed the petition and shared with friends.  People enjoyed the photos of a-ha and Morten they posted on Facebook.  One of those people was me, LA.  What started as me probably making a sassy comment about Morten’s choice of pants in that one photo we all know and love turned into something much more.

In March 2015, I got a message from Clara telling me that she and Debbie had talked and they both had a “gut feeling” that I was a pretty cool gal.  (They’re right, BTW //tooting my own horn//). They asked me to join the fold and maybe write some blog pieces for fun, and I immediately took the reins on our social media front.  We set up Twitter, Tumblr, Instagram and updated the Facebook page, and started the Take on This! blog, all with one purpose: get attention to our petition (and entertain you all in the process!)

And guess what?  People noticed even more.  The number of signatures began to rise.  More guests liked our Facebook page, and began following us on the other platforms. So, we set up a website, and lo and behold, people visited there, too!  By the end of March 2015, Cast in Steel had been announced, and we wanted nothing more than to have them come to our shores and play for all their adorning fans here that couldn’t make it to Europe for shows.  Tour dates were announced…and they didn’t include us.  So guess what?  We threw ourselves into “work our asses off” mode.  Late nights, early mornings, neglecting of family duties—all on our own time, no pay from anyone, mind you—to get our (and your) voices heard.  Facing adversity from certain sources only made us a stronger team, and more determined bring attention to our campaign.  Because when it’s all said and done, all a-ha fans deserve the opportunity to see the guys in concert, no matter what certain people think.

And on we pressed.  We contacted the Original MTV VJ’s on Twitter: Mark Goodman, Alan Hunter, Martha Quinn, and Nina Blackwood.  All were eager to help our grass-roots effort get some attention, as they remembered those Norwegian angels and how much influence they had on pop culture.  Mark and Nina both gave us ON AIR shout outs on Sirius XM, and all four tweeted about us on their own accounts.  Nina in particular has been an incredible help, as she is always willing to post our links, talk about us and Debbie on-air and give a-ha a little love during her airtime.  

And guess what?  The petition numbers kept rising.  

By this time it was June 2015, and we weren’t even close to being done.  We were sitting on the precipice of 500 signatures, no small feat.  But we wanted more.   We wanted a-ha and their management to know that the fans here in the USA wanted them back. Time was ticking by, and we knew the USA was running out of time to secure tour dates.  So we worked our tails off even more, sometimes resorting to asking random people if they liked a-ha, all in order to reach that magic number. (I may or may not have been guilty of asking the service technician at my car dealership to sign during an oil change. He signed—and I regret nothing.)

June 16, 2015.  “500 Day.”

The number glared at us, we screeched and cried happy tears, then…

…immediately started planning on how we were going to get to 1,000.

We did giveaways for certain number milestones, we circulated flyers around our hometowns, we contacted radio stations nationwide, deejays and anyone we could think of in the entertainment business who might listen.  To quote a previous entry of Take on This: Perfect strangers?  No problem, A-ha is great icebreaker.  Family vacation?  Pssshhh.  Hawaii loves A-ha too, right? Local restaurants?  State Fairs?  Kid’s music lessons?  Check, check and double check.

And guess what?  THE NUMBERS KEPT RISING.  We imposed a deadline on ourselves to get to that next magic number—August 31st. Before we knew it, August was upon us. And August 9th brought 1,000 names.  In just over five months, we had gone from 300-ish signatures to over a thousand.  Within a day, hundreds of dollars our own money went towards postage for sending hard copies of the petition to Norway.  We knew it needed to be there RIGHT NOW if the USA were to have any chance of getting tour dates.  We ensured it was in the right hands, no matter how hard or expensive it was.  How’s that for working our butts off day and night?

And still we pressed on.  1,000 wasn’t enough.  Time was of the essence, because we knew the window to achieve gigs for the USA was quickly closing.  So again, we kicked into overdrive.  Working through the autumn, we blasted the information about our petition far and wide, hoping against hope that it would garner even more attention.  

December 8, 2015.

The day our hearts collectively broke.  I remember I woke up like any other day, wrangled my son out of bed on a below-zero morning to get to school on time, and checked my phone while making oatmeal. The message I never wanted to see greeted me.  

They weren’t coming.  All tour dates had been announced.

I’ll admit, I cried.  Hard.  I tried to keep my composure and got my dude into school like a trooper.  When I returned to my car, I called Debbie and sobbed—and swore.  Profusely.  (Poor Debbie, did she get an earful from that parking lot…) Everything we had worked for. Everything we had HOPED for.  For nothing.

We took a week or so to wallow in our misery, and also decide what to do next. Yes, they weren’t coming—THIS TIME. You see, that hope, that drive, that made us strive to succeed the first time, was still there.  Maybe even burning hotter than before.

Debbie and Clara at least had Norwegian concerts to look forward to, and I vicariously lived through them during their whirlwind tour of that beautiful Scandinavian country to see a-ha for the very first time in May 2016.  And all the while, even though the end of the tour had arrived by then and there was no concrete evidence that a-ha would come back again, we kept on.  Armed with flyers, cards and a few more hard copies of our petition, they put feet to the ground in Norway and got back to business in-between shows.

Because we’re nothing if not persistent.

The petition made it into the hands of an executive from Norsk Hydro who knew the band, and promised to share it with them.  She was thrilled to hear that there was such a fan base in the USA and was eager to tell the guys.  When the gals were fortunate enough to talk to each of the lads, they always made sure to tell them how much they were wanted here, and that all our hard work was for the fans that have never had the chance to see them on our shores.  We crossed our collective fingers.  Debbie and Clara returned to the United States with a renewed love of Norway and a smattering of cautious optimism that our efforts would somehow still not be in vain.

We kept on updating our little corner of a-ha land, all the while working for the Norwegian band KELNER doing promo in the USA.  We were busy, that’s for sure.  But all the while, we always had that glimmer of hope that a-ha would return yet again.  We kept the petition open and continued to get support, with the numbers continuing to rise.  

2017 brought new hope—and renewed vigor in us—in the form of the acoustic tour announcement.  Once again, we flew into action, blasted our petition with louder voices than we had ever had before.  Nina Blackwood, once again, supported us by talking about our campaign on-air and posting our links on her Facebook page.  She even gave a shout-out to Debbie before she left for the acoustic shows last month.  

This time, we would not be left out.  The sting of disappointment was still raw from last time, the wound still aching. And then again, when all the acoustic gigs were announced—the USA was not part of the deal.

Dammit.

But, we persisted.  Because we could just feel it.  Maybe it was the way the guys seemed to have so much fun during the Cast in Steel tour, or the announcement of the acoustic album and DVD for autumn.  We knew there had to be something more.

The MTV Unplugged concerts at Giske were a success.  There had been a huge contingent of American fans there, and it had to have been noticed.  Debbie and Clara screamed it from the rooftops again, to anyone who would listen, that we desperately wanted to be included in another tour—if it ever came to fruition.  They came home, and we waited.  Again.

July 7, 2017

One article, posted on a very reputable site, said the words we were all waiting to hear for so very, very long.

A-ha was finally coming back to the USA.

A world tour announcement, including America.

I cried again.  But this time, it was most definitely happy tears.

All our work, all our sacrifices—had finally paid off.  Sacrifices, you ask?  Yes.  Our families sometimes got the shaft when we were hard at work making the collective voice of the USA fans be heard.  We spent a lot, and I mean A LOT, of our time campaigning for everyone to get their fair change.  No one paid us.  We did what we did because, for every a-ha fan that has seen them in concert, there are ten who haven’t.  Those of us who live in the USA have had a mere sliver of the opportunities others have been given to see them over the past thirty-plus years.  We worked so very hard—and we did it for the fans.

So, here’s to the upcoming Summer 2018 World Tour.

We finally did it guys, we're so thankful that everyone appreciated our hard work, and here's to seeing a-ha on our shores!

Team AHaMortenUSA thanks each and every one of you for your support and encouragement over these last three years.  And don’t worry, we’re not going anywhere just because there are finally tour announcements!  We’re here to stay!

 Keep up with us on social media!

Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/ahaUSA2015/

Twitter:   https://twitter.com/AHaMortenUS2015

Tumblr: https://ahamortenusa2015.tumblr.com/

Instagram:  https://www.instagram.com/scoundrel_days/

Website: https://www.ahamortenharketusa.com/

Petition: http://www.thepetitionsite.com/134/144/390/a-ha-morten-harket-usa-2015/

[urbanhippiewannabe]

To the Friend I Have Hurt (An Open Letter)

You are a kind soul that accidentally walked into my neurotic world. You were the Dr. Wilson to my Dr. House, the Meredith Grey to my Cristina Yang, and the Alan Shore to my Denny Crane. 

I am an unbelievably selfish person. I’ve always been really selfish and that is my greatest fault. When I act, I rarely think about the consequences of my actions until it is too late. When I decide to do something, I rarely consider how others would feel about it. Oftentimes, I hurt people without intending to. That is a consequence I have to deal with. Let me just say, once again, I respect the hurt you felt and are still probably feeling. “I am so sorry,” will probably never be enough. Even if you tell me you forgive me, I know, somehow, that does not erase the hurt you felt. 

Thank you for being a Meredith. Thank you for being the person that you are. My very strong personality probably overshadowed yours. 

I know it is hard to deal with a headstrong person, most especially myself. I am assertive to a fault, yet again. When I want something done, I want it executed to perfection. I probably drove you crazy how I sulk about things not being perfect. I am sorry. But I am very thankful that you always held my hand said, “It is perfectly okay for things not to turn out perfectly. If one solution fails, there are a thousand others.” Almost every time I tell you about my problems, you think about 1,001 ways to solve it and you never give up offering solutions even if I keep finding loopholes or just any reason not to take your advice. I thank you very much for never getting tired to listen to my shallow and even my  made-up problems. It meant a lot to me that you are one of the persons who did that. 

Thank you for being a fun Alan Shore to my Denny Crane. I lost track of how many times I was asked if I felt hurt about ending our friendship. Without hesitation, I always say, “Of course. It hurts a lot.” You were not a stranger who I passed by the street. You are not a casual acquaintance. You were one of the most special friends I ever had. And one time, I was teased, “You miss her, don’t you?” while telling an anecdote about you. Without hesitation, I said, “Of course! She’s a fun person to be with when she’s in the mood.” You were always game for everything: spontaneous roadtrips, ghost-hunting, foodtrip, cold beers, buying personalized shirts, dancing in an empty classroom, playing Left For Dead in a computer shop full of high school kids, climbing mountains, you name it. I had fun in all of those occasions and you are one of the reasons why. It would not have been as fun if you were not there. Those would not have been as happy memories as it were if you were not there. 

Like Denny Crane, I would do the craziest things on a regular basis and like Alan Shore, you always had my back. Like Denny Crane, I would say the crappiest things and like Alan Shore, you’d only say, “But, Denny, we’re flamingos.” We are out of the ordinary. Being crazy was a routine for us. 

Thank you for building all those fun memories with me. Those are unforgettable times. Those are fun times. Those are times I will always treasure. 

Thank you for being a Dr. Wilson to my Dr. House. Among all friendships, I think theirs is the awesomest. Like Dr. House, I am a person who often does not care about the consequences of the way I do things as long as the goal is reached. Like Dr. House, I leave a mess behind me in the process of reaching a goal. Like Dr. Wilson, you are always very patient with me and would always help me clean up the mess, always believed in me. Thank you for being one of those people in my life. 

But our lives were not meant to be like the TV Shows. This is my attempt to stop being selfish. It breaks my heart to even say that I do not deserve a Meredith Grey, an Alan Shore, or a Dr. Wilson. I cannot promise you that I will not hurt you again. I can say I will change but that would be a lie. I do things instinctively. I cannot be that person who can keep her mouth shut when tact is needed. I blurt out things and I regret it later. I do things and then realize only after the act is done that I might have hurt people along the way. 

I do not deserve your friendship. I am a very selfish person but I am not a monster. I will atone for what I have done by removing myself from your life. I was being honest when I said I wish you well. I am being honest right now when I say that I wish you happiness, good health, and the best of fortunes. After dealing with a person like me for the longest time, you deserve to live your life as happy and as free as you can. 

I respect and acknowledge your pain. I am sorry for being the selfish brat that I am. I would probably lose more friends because of that but I will think back on this time and I would have no hesitation about letting people go. It would hurt all over again. But I would rather have people be free from being miserable with me than saying “I will change” over and over again but never succeeding to. 

I have no regrets about meeting you and becoming your friend. I will always treasure the memories we had together. I will always think of you as one of the best persons ever to have walked into my life. But I am sorry that I have never been able to give back as much love as you gave me. 

I ought to have a sign on my forehead saying, “Neurotic person. Befriend at your own risk.” I probably should never ever start friendships with people ever again. I probably should live like a hermit. For what it’s worth, I wish I can do that but this life is not making it very easy for me. No, I take that back. Maybe I am just making it harder for myself by totally failing at every attempt to change. I deserve all the harsh things ever said to me and more. But I don’t think I will ever succeed in changing. 

I know I told myself that I would never put anything like this on social media because I do not believe such actions amount to anything good but I am doing this right now to let you know that I am not stepping out of our friendship out of spite. I do not hate you. I do not think of you as a person who should be forgotten but, somehow, I need to do be less selfish than I usually am. For the last time, I am really sorry. 

[lisaholtjames]

Zero Below Zero: Serious Motorcycle Riding

I ride my motorcycles all year round, but it’s not that hard because I live in Colorado. We always have a lot of warm days no matter what month it is so I just pick and choose when I’ll ride. But what about if you live some place way north, such as Duluth, Minnesota? My map shows me that Duluth is about 100 miles south of the Canadian border, and right on the shore of Lake Superior. Or perhaps more significantly, about 450 miles north of Denver.

Zero Below Zero

And what if, living in Duluth, you were to ride to work all winter long, not just the occasional warm day? I’m not talking just sub-freezing days, I’m talking sub-zero days. Well, they did it.

They who?

They, in this case, as a bunch of employees of Aerostich, a company well know in motorcycling circles as manufacturers of riding suits, jackets, pants, and other items. And the company is headquartered in Duluth. What a natural marketing pitch, to use their own products and then ride all winter.

But wait, there’s more. All this riding was done on a Zero electric motorcycle. Now, common sense tells us that batteries don’t work so well in really, really cold environments. Will a Zero even run in sub-zero weather?

So anyway, Aerostich and Zero got together and decided to do a test. Test the Aerostich riding gear and the Zero motorcycle against the really cold weather of northern Minnesota. And then they released a book telling about the experience. That book is Zero Below Zero: Electric Motorcycle Everyday Commuting All Winter in Duluth Minnesota. Alan picked this book up somewhere and thought–rightly–that I might be interested in giving it a read. I would definitely recommend it to you–it’s pretty interesting.

First off, they made a bunch of mods on the bike, a Zero FX, such as embedding studs in the tires to give traction on icy streets. Aerostich also created a custom heated jacket for the Zero battery, but then the practice was to park it outside all the time. Sure, keeping it in your garage would be reasonable, but they wanted to push the thing, so park it outside–always.

How did it go? They did it. They rode the thing all winter, through snow and over ice and in weather far colder than any I’ve ever ridden in. And they loved it.

OK, I could make this post twice as long by going into a lot of detail and quoting from the book, but I’ll decline that temptation. If you want to know more, read the book. It only costs $10. And yes, it’s great marketing for both companies but consider, if these companies’ products made this possible and enjoyable, perhaps their products deserve recognition. I know I’m intrigued with this Aerostich “Warmbib” that several of the riders said they loved.

Now, this book is not going to inspire me to ride in all weather because I don’t have studs in my tires, nor do I anticipate putting any in. But it’s good to know that I really could if I wanted to. Pretty cool.

Biker Quote for Today

It’s always Ride O’Clock.

from Motorcycle Riding http://motorcyclecolorado.com/blog/zero-below-zero-serious-motorcycle-riding/

[gumnut-logic]

For His Brothers (Bit 3)

Bit 1 | Bit 2 | Bit 3

Thank you to all of you for your kind words and support with this little fic. Here be some more :D

Special thanks to @tsarinatorment​ and @scribbles97​ for the read throughs and cheerleading support.

I hope you enjoy.

-o-o-o-

They sat there like that for Virgil didn’t know how long. He kept his eyes closed, his forehead down and his big brother’s hand clutched in his.

“You know he is going to wake up, don’t you?” It was flippant and out of the blue. It shattered Virgil’s carefully tended calm and his head shot up, inadvertently pushing Gordon away.

“We don’t know that.”

“Yes, we do.”

Virgil opened his mouth, but his throat closed up. Only one strangled word made it out and it was little more than a plaintive wail. “How?”

“Because he’s Scott.” The surety in Gordon’s voice tore at the remains of Virgil’s heart. “Scott Tracy. Commander of International Rescue.” Gordon’s lips thinned as his eyes reflected the fluorescent lighting. “Thunderbird One.”

Virgil stared at his little brother a moment. The intensity in those brown eyes screamed belief and determination.

Not unlike Scott, really.

It almost broke Virgil in half.

He looked away, back to his big brother laid out on the white bed, almost funereal in appearance. Virgil’s throat clogged up, fear, distress and grief warring for dominance.

His eyes fixated on Scott’s eyelashes once again and mentally begged them to open, pleaded to see that wise and inspirational blue. For his brother to return to him.

Please don’t leave.

God, please, I can’t do this without you.

“He’s going to be fine, Virgil.” Gordon’s voice again intruded on his stability, shaking the fragile framework his composure was sitting on.

“He trusted me.” The words fell from his lips, his voice wet, his eyes still fixated on his silent brother.

“He always trusts you. We all do.” Gordon’s voice was very much his rescue voice. Soft, reassuring and ever so kind.

Virgil didn’t deserve it.

The powerlines had come out of nowhere. He should have predicted that at least, but instead he had John yelling in his ears and Scott swooping in low with his jetpack, grabbing him by his exo-suit and literally shoving him out of the way. Virgil had spun on one tortured ankle, but the electrical wires had missed him.

They hadn’t missed Scott.

They slapped across his jet pack and vivid white and orange sparks blinded Virgil as he tried to reach for his brother. After-images haunted his sight as Scott’s jet pack died. Virgil reached for his brother, claws extended, but he was clumsy, poorly balanced, and he missed.

Scott fell limp into the dark water below.

And Virgil couldn’t follow.

Then it was all a mad dance to get out the reach of the still flailing powerlines, accompanied by the roar of his own ‘bird swooping into a low hover and his aquanaut brother taking a swan dive off her front hatch into that same dark water.

Virgil hurried to get off the bridge, but found he couldn’t.

He had been on the outside of the structure, rappelling down to secure a car that had almost fallen off the bridge due the 6.5 quake an hour ago. The bridge was almost empty bar the last of the support personnel who had helped International Rescue evacuate the injured. Virgil had clambered out there simply to clip a restraint onto the car’s chassis to prevent it from falling off the bridge and possibly causing more injury. It should have been a simple job, mere seconds before they moved onto the next site.

The pylon had fallen without warning.

And the powerlines, which weren’t supposed to be there, came with it.

Scott had saved Virgil’s life.

At the cost of his own.

And now Virgil couldn’t even get off the damned bridge due to that same pylon, a tangle in his rappel line, and the very strong possibility he had a broken ankle.

He had to stand there and watch Gordon drag their brother onto the shore and start CPR in the mud.

The aquanaut was joined by Alan and a hovering One almost immediately and Scott was scooped off the planet and the rocket plane tore off into the distance.

He was stuck on that bridge for a good twenty minutes. Unable to reach his ‘bird still hovering until John landed her in a street nearby. Unable to climb off the bridge. He was little more than just another rescuee in need of his brothers.

Full of terror.

John reported on Scott’s status as much as he could and fretted in his own calm way over Virgil. His voice was, as ever, a balm, but the lack of a definitive answer on whether his eldest brother was going to survive kept Virgil’s heart rate in the red.

But then there was the familiar roar of that same brother’s ‘bird and One shot into an abrupt hover, Alan rappelling down and finally scooping Virgil off the side of the bridge.

Scott was asleep when Virgil finally made it to the hospital, and his brother had stayed that way ever since.

Three days.

Three long pain-filled days.

Virgil’s ankle had been splinted and he was mobile. Turned out the left strut of his exo-suit had actually snapped. How Scott had managed to shove him with that much force, Virgil had no idea. But it had achieved what his brother had wanted to do. He had saved Virgil, even if he hadn’t managed to save himself.

So quiet. So still.

Gordon shifted beside him, a small sigh passing his lips.

“Thank you, Gordon.” Virgil’s throat clogged again. “For saving him.”

“You don’t need to thank me. We’d all do the same for any of us.”

“You shouldn’t have had to. I should have known those wires were there. I should have moved faster.”

“What are you? Prophetic? John had the plans for that bridge, you had the plans for that bridge. There was no mention of hidden cables in that span. You know it, I know it. There wasn’t a damn thing you could have done. Some stupid idiot didn’t file the proper papers with the proper authorities.”

“I should have scanned the structure more thoroughly.”

“Virgil, it was a bridge, not a damned building. You and Scott located all the injured. You did good.” An exasperated sigh. “This was not your fault.” Gordon straightened. “And if you don’t leave this room and eat something, Grandma is going to have both our hides.”

Virgil didn’t even bother to look at him. “No. I’m staying here.” He had to, because Scott had to wake up.

He had to.

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