#it's been a wild +12 hours indeed
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As You Wish, Chapter 7
Summary: When arriving at Camp Silver Star, Abby Floyd was anticipating a summer of adventure with an ocean separating her from the three people she loved most: her mom, her Uncle Bob and her Aunt Natasha. But after a run in with Charlie Seresin, an extremely familiar looking and irritating camper in a different cabin, her summer plans take a turn that neither girl ever could have expected.
Potential Trigger Warnings: reader's children are described as being blond with green eyes because genetics are wild and Jake's genes are strong, reader is canonically Bob's sister (but biological relation is never discussed), reader goes by Buttercup and is tattooed, angst, panic attack, drinking, sadness, reference to divorce, kids doing sneaky things, references to babies, swearing, references to the hospital
Top Gun, almost 12 years ago
When Payback was standing on the tarmac of the training field as they landed, Bob knew it was go time.
It had been odd enough flying without Bagman the past few days; the blond lieutenant opting to take a few days leave as his new wife approached and passed her due date, and Bob found himself almost missing the sarcastic comments shared over comms and the easy way that his new brother-in-law was able to push the other members of their team to their limits. It wasn’t always great for morale, but there was a reason they were the best team the Navy had to offer.
Bob hopped down from his seat behind Natasha and took off running towards Reuben, who he had handed his phone to before takeoff. The older pilot knew a thing or two about impending parenthood and had suggested holding onto the uncle-to-be’s phone, just in case any news broke about the delivery of the twins.
Twins. His sister was having twins. With Hangman. As much as Bob had fought her on her relationship with the cocky aviator, there was no denying how happy the couple had been over the course of the past year. Sure, they had moved fast (too fast, in Bob’s opinion), but that’s the way Hangman operated. His mind moved a million miles an hour in his cockpit, and he saw no reason to slow it down when he was on land.
“Text just came in about ten minutes ago,” Reuben called when Bob was in earshot. “She labored all day and all night, and the girls were born around 2 this morning. Mom and girls are doing fine.”
Bob felt his smile stretch so wide he was surprised his face didn’t break.
“But it’s almost 6 now,” Natasha griped, standing over his left shoulder. “What’s with the hold up?”
Reuben chuckled. “Would you want people all up in your face after over a day of labour and delivery, Phoenix? Or would you want some time to soak up all the lovin’ of those two little angels before you had to share them?”
“I’d want to soak up all the love, that’s the point.”
While Bob tended to agree with her, he knew that this was all part of his sister’s plan. She was a private person at heart and hated being the center of attention. She especially hated feeling like people were waiting on her. So, it made sense that she would’ve held off on announcing the birth of his nieces until she’d had time to adjust.
“Bob, you okay?” Reuben asked, realizing that the WSO hadn’t said a single word since landing. “You with me?”
Bob nodded, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose. “Thanks, Payback.” He reached out and took his phone back from the older member of their team.
He grinned and patted him on the shoulder. “You wish the new parents congratulations from me and Lori, alright? We’ll be by to visit when we’re allowed. But it sounds like you’ve got permission already, Bob.”
Bob glanced down at the message from Hangman, which did indeed invite him to the hospital to meet the newest members of his family.
“C’mon,” Natasha held up her car keys. “I’m driving.”
“You—”
“Probably wasn’t invited, was I?” his partner smirked. “But you’re shaking like a leaf, so I’m doing the team a favour and driving you. And, if I get to meet the babies before Javy and Rooster, that’s even better.”
London, England, 24 hours ago
Charlie sat at the high round kitchen table, poking at the cheese and crackers she had assembled for her midday meal as Auntie Nat raced around the kitchen, half a bagel stuffed in her mouth as she prepped her coffee.
When she’d woken up that morning, Uncle Bob had been halfway out the door for work. A schedule that consisted of bouncing from London to Frankfurt to Barcelona and, finally, home ensured that he would be home in time for Jeopardy and dinner but had left her with her surly aunt and her mom, who had been locked into Zoom meetings all morning in her office. Not that she was complaining. While the first few days had been a difficult adjustment, dealing with the time change and the customs of her new home, she absolutely adored her life in London. Her Uncle Bob was just as awkward and funny as she had been told, Auntie Nat was everything she had ever wanted in an aunt, and her mom? Her mom was better than she had ever dreamed. They had spent hours together, reading together and tossing ideas around about Mum’s latest book, going out to eat, watching trashy reality shows while eating ice cream. Mum kept reminding her that things would go back to normal when she went back to school but wanted to keep things loose for the last few weeks of summer because she had missed her so much. It was kind of nice to have a relaxing morning at home with her aunt while waiting for her mom to be freed from work.
“Alright, kid, I’m off,” Auntie Nat announced, breezing past her with her arms loaded down with gym equipment and water bottles. “Have fun with your mom tonight, and remind her to eat something before her book signing, okay? You don’t want to deal with a hangry Buttercup, believe me.”
Charlie grinned at her as Nat paused in front of the large mirror next to the door, putting down a water bottle to touch up the makeup that concealed the angry red edges of the scar that bisected her left eye, a remnant from the battle that had taken Maverick’s life and Natasha’s clearance to fly. Abby had told her that Nat still got self-conscious about the scar and warned her not to stare too much at it, but that hadn’t been a problem. She’d seen worse scars on the cowboys and cowgirls who worked on the ranch. Hell, one of their best breeding experts was a man with four fingers on one hand and only one ear. Scars didn’t exactly scare her.
“I will. Have fun at work!” Nat winked at her through the mirror before gathering her belongings and jetting through the door, allowing it to fall closed with a thud.
Feeling a short, staccato vibration in her pocket, Charlie tugged out her phone and checked for any new message from Abby. Her sister (it still thrilled her to be able to say those words) had been keeping her up to date on the ranch and the lives of the men who lived there. Last they had spoken, Abby had been excited about going on a trail ride with dad, and Charlie had shared a few tips on how to navigate Jake’s favourite trail. They both hoped that the trail ride would be a good opportunity for Abby to start digging into what went wrong with their parent’s marriage, while Charlie was angling for an opening to bring up the same topic with their mother. Thus far, all attempts had been foiled on both their parts, but neither of them was willing to give up without a fight.
Charlie clicked onto the messaging app and read the most recent message.
A: Does dad have a girlfriend?
Charlie snorted. Sure, she’d heard rumors about her dad from Rooster and Javy, how he had all the ladies drooling when he was in the Navy, but that couldn’t be further from the truth now. Besides, there was no way her father could hide a whole girlfriend from her.
C: LOL no he’s got no game
But…those rumors had to have started somewhere. And her father, as dorky as he was, had managed to date and marry her mom, who was the coolest woman Charlie had ever met. And she’d been gone for six weeks at camp. If so much had changed for her in those six weeks, there was no telling what could have changed at her home in Texas.
C: Why??? 👀
Abby’s response was sent almost immediately, as though Abby had had the message waiting to send.
A: Because there’s a random blond lady hanging out in the kitchen and he’s calling her baby
Charlie bit her lip. It didn’t sound like her dad…then again, her dad hadn’t done much dating because he’d been busy with her and the ranch. Still, he wouldn’t just hide a girlfriend from her, would he? Feeling a dark cloud begin to drift over her head, she replied.
C: You sure it’s him and not Rooster?
C: Uncle Roo has lots of hookups 🤢
A: Pretty sure I know what he looks like, thanks 🙄
Charlie tamped down a bolt of anger. It wasn’t Abby’s fault. She was just looking for information and they’d both inherited their mother’s penchant for sarcasm with their father’s ego. Abby didn’t deserve to have her head chewed off just because Charlie was asking stupid questions.
C: You didn’t until a couple of weeks ago, smartypants
“Hey babe, sorry about that!”
Charlie nearly threw her phone across the room as her mom came into the kitchen, dressed in a stylish pair of black palazzo pants and a pretty cream coloured sleeveless top.
“H-hi mum!” Charlie chirped, flipping her phone face down and grinning.
“You okay?” Buttercup’s brow furrowed.
“Fine! I was just looking up restaurants around the bookstore. Auntie Nat wanted me to remind you to eat before the book signing.” Charlie flipped the little switch on her phone to shut off notifications as Abby’s replies started buzzing in.
Buttercup rolled her eyes fondly. “Listen, a girl gets hangry one time, after 27 hours of labor and not being allowed to eat due to archaic hospital policies, and she’s never allowed to live it down.”
Charlie grinned. “But would you really want to get hangry a second time in front of your adoring public?”
Buttercup grinned. “I suppose not. But it would make for one heck of a story, wouldn’t it?” Despite her words, Buttercup dug into the fridge and pulled out a slice of leftover pizza, taking a large bite as she leant against the marble countertop next to the sink. “You know, you don’t have to come with me to the book signing, love. It’ll be super boring, and I could just have a driver pick you up and bring you to the restaurant by the theatre for dinner. I’d come get you myself but you know me. Once I walk back in the door tonight, it’s yoga pants and ice cream for me.”
“No, mum. I want to come!”
Buttercup fixed her with a look as she took another bite of pizza. “You do? You want to sit and watch me talk about the book I can’t finish and sign my name a gazillion times instead of staying home and doing whatever the cool 12-year-old girls are doing?”
“Yep!” Buttercup’s suspicious look lingered as she polished off her pizza. “What? Can’t a girl want to hang out with her mum over summer holiday?”
“She can…but she also hasn’t seen her friends since she left for camp. Are you sure you don’t want to invite Madison or Brooklyn over while I’m at work?”
Charlie was already shaking her head. “I missed you, mum. I want to spend more time with you before I go back to school. Besides, I’m almost 12. I’m not going to want to hang out with you forever.”
“Oof, right for the guilt trip,” Buttercup grinned as she washed her hands. “Alright, lady, if you’re sure, you’d better go get dressed for a day out on the town.”
Charlie grinned and hopped up from her seat. “Give me ten minutes!”
Grabbing her phone, she raced up the stairs and started pulling on the outfit she had chosen for the day, checking her hair, and brushing her teeth. Satisfied with her appearance, she pulled her phone out and checked her messages from Abby.
A: Thanks for the reminder
A: Are you sure he doesn’t have a girlfriend?
A: He wants to talk to me about something
A: What if it’s her?
A: Charlie?
Charlie sighed, feeling only slightly guilty about leaving her sister in the lurch. But whatever issues Abby was facing, whatever conversation Jake wanted to have with her, Charlie was an ocean away and couldn’t really do anything to help. Besides, it couldn’t be a girlfriend. Dad wouldn’t have hidden something like that from her.
C: Sorry, gotta go! Mom’s taking me to one of her book signings, and then we’re going to dinner and a show! Good luck!
Before Abby could start to type back, Charlie shut off her phone and threw it into the purse she had chosen to take with her. Whatever was going on in Texas, Charlie was confident that her sister could handle it.
“…and that’s why I believe that, no matter how dark your content is, your story should always end with a glimmer of hope,” Buttercup smiled from her comfortable seat on the slightly raised stage at the back of the bookstore, and Charlie clapped along with the audience. It looked like hundreds of people had turned out for the event celebrating her mother’s works, each of them clamoring for a look at the notoriously private author who didn’t even have her picture in the backs of her books.
“Alright, it looks like we’ve got time for one more question,” the moderator said, peering out over the audience. “You, in the pink paisley shirt. What is your question?”
The young woman down the row from Charlie stood up and accepted the microphone. “Hi, my name’s Lisa. I was just wondering about the timeline of your books. You say that you’ve been writing since you were a kid, but your first book wasn’t published until 7 years ago. What was it that finally prompted you to publish your book?”
Charlie watched her mother stiffen slightly before turning an almost plastic smile to the audience. “That’s a great question, Lisa, thank you. Unfortunately, that’s just the way this industry goes sometimes. An author can spend years, decades even, revising and editing their work before a publisher will even agree to take a look at it. Besides that, I also had a lot going on in my life that…prevented me from writing as much as I wanted to. But just over a decade ago, I was faced with personal difficulties that forced me to sit and pour my thoughts out onto the page. It took some time after that to organize my thoughts into a comprehensible narrative, but that’s what ended up becoming my first book, The Things We Hold Onto.”
Lisa raised the microphone, probably to try to engage with Buttercup further, but the moderator quickly stepped in. “Thank you so much for your questions. We’ll be taking a five-minute break before the book signing begins. If you’d all like to queue up at the table, that would be wonderful. Thank you.”
The crowd quickly dispersed, and Charlie fought her way through them to stand at the bottom of the stage as her mom stepped down.
“Thanks, Diane,” she shook the moderator’s hand.
“Don’t mention it,” she replied with a wink. “I’m just doing my job. Now, I’m going to go set up the table for the signing, and I’ll see you in five minutes.”
She walked off and Buttercup turned to her with a sigh, hugging her close. “You sure you made the right call, coming to work with me? I’m bored and it’s my writing I’m talking about.”
Charlie giggled. “I’m sure.”
“You’re one weird kid,” Buttercup commented, pressing a kiss to her daughter’s hair. “But I’m so glad you’re mine. I love you.”
Charlie felt her heart beam in her chest. “I love you too.” Charlie watched as her mom guzzled a water bottle, chewing on her bottom lip as she considered her next words. “Mum…what was it that kept you from writing?” Water sputtered from Buttercup’s mouth as she coughed. “Was…was it me?”
Buttercup wiped her mouth, cleared her throat, and tugged her close again. “God, no, babe. Not you. Never you.”
“Then…was it dad?” Charle bit her lip so hard she could almost taste blood. She couldn’t imagine a world where Jake Seresin was anything but supportive of those around him, but she also couldn’t imagine a world where her father had lied to her for her entire life, so, clearly, she didn’t know everything.
Buttercup sighed heavily. “I promised you I would tell you about your dad, and I haven’t forgotten. At dinner, okay? I’ll answer all your questions at dinner.”
Charlie nodded slowly, not meeting her gaze. “Okay.”
“I’ve got to get over there,” Buttercup nodded to the queue. “Dinner. I promise.”
“Okay, mum.”
Buttercup took a few steps and turned back to her. “It wasn’t your father either, babe. Okay?”
Charlie felt the knot in her chest slacken slightly and she brightened. “Okay, mum. Go kill it!”
Buttercup winked and strode off, her head held high.
A few hours later, the queue had been cleared and Buttercup and Charlie sat in a comfortable booth at Café Murano in Covent Gardens. Their glasses of water had barely been placed on the table before Charlie leaned forward.
“Mum?”
Buttercup sighed and placed the menu to the side. “Alright, babe. I’ve made you wait long enough. What do you want to know?”
“If dad didn’t stop you from writing, what did?”
Buttercup traced a finger around the lip of her water glass. “A bunch of things, I suppose. My life with your father was…fast paced. We met, fell in love, and got pregnant with you in the span of what? Three months, give or take? I had been living in New York, getting my Masters in creative writing one minute, and the next I was moving into your dad’s apartment in San Diego. I got so swept up in the whirlwind that my writing kind of fell by the wayside. It’s okay. It happens.”
“So…what made you start writing again?”
Buttercup shrugged. “I moved here with you, and I had no other creative outlet. Bob and Nat were still in the Navy, so I didn’t have them to lean on. I had no friends here; I didn’t know any of my coworkers. It was just me and you, so I would write when you were napping. I just poured everything I was feeling into a word document and, eventually, a narrative started to take shape. It took a while, but I was eventually able to take it to the publishing company I worked for, and they agreed to publish it.”
“Why did you move here? I though you and Uncle Bob grew up in Minnesota?”
“We did,” Buttercup took a swig of water. “I got a job offer here not long after you were born, so I took it when your father and I split up.” Buttercup flagged down a passing waiter. “Could I get a glass of rosé, please? Thank you.”
“Did you split up because of the job offer?” Charlie felt her heart racing in her chest. Every question she’d ever asked (or wanted to ask) her father was battling in her mind, all of them racing to be the first to come out.
Buttercup smiled wryly. “Not exactly. Well…maybe. Kind of. I don’t know, babe. It’s complicated adult stuff.”
“But I’m almost an adult,” Charlie commented, leaning closer. “I turn 12 in a few months.”
Buttercup tilted her head. “You do indeed.” The waiter placed the tall glass of pink wine on the table and Buttercup took a long sip. “Abby, honey…I know why you feel curious about your father. It’s natural to wonder about a man you’ve never met. But…” Another sip disappeared down her throat. “There are just some things that are too complicated to explain. There was a lot going on at the time, and we had gotten together so quickly, and we were juggling parenthood with our jobs, and…” Charlie felt her face flush as her mother’s breathing stuttered, tears welling in her eyes. “Some things…just don’t work out. There are some things in life that you just can’t hold onto, no matter how badly you might want to. It made more sense for us to split up and for you to come with me than for us to keep fighting the way we were.”
Charlie sagged against her side of the booth. So much information, and nothing to do with it. Her mom was clearly just as messed up from the divorce as her dad was, but neither of them were willing to talk it out with their children or with each other. She felt a flash of disappointment in her gut, but she smothered it. She loved her mom and her dad, and she yearned for them to be able to fix things between them, but it was okay that they weren’t willing to do the leg work on their own. That’s what her and Abby were there for. Even if their plan didn’t end with their parents back together, at least they wouldn’t be able to hide their children from each other anymore. That would have to be the main goal.
“Abby?”
Charlie looked up into her mother’s wide eyes. “Yeah mum?”
“I said I’m sorry,” Buttercup bit her lip. “I’ll try to figure out a way to explain it all to you one day, I promise.”
“It’s okay, mum,” Charlie smiled lightly. “I know I sprung it on you. We can talk more when you’re ready.”
Buttercup sighed and squeezed her hand. “I don’t know what I did to deserve you, Abigail Juliet Floyd, but I’m so glad you’re my girl.”
“And I’m glad you’re my mum.”
Buttercup smiled tearily before picking up her menu. “You know what, babe? What do you say we break the rules and have dessert first?”
“I’d say that sounds awesome.”
Charlie yawned as she crawled into bed that night, ABBA songs still ringing in her ears. Dessert, dinner, and their performance of Mamma Mia had been an awesome time, but it was so late that she wished she could just fall asleep the second her head hit the pillow. But, in an effort to be a responsible sister, she dug her phone out of her purse and turned it on instead, searching for any new messages from her sister across the ocean.
When her search turned up empty, she opened Instagram and found her father’s profile, scanning through the photos of Abby, Jake, Javy and Rooster. She felt a pang of longing to be back in her familiar surroundings with the people she loved most, but the anger and hurt she still felt over her father’s betrayal pushed that pang back.
Still, she studied the most recent photo, a selfie of Abby, Jake and Javy at the high school football field, posted only the previous day. They all looked so happy together, her dad’s arm wrapped around Abby’s shoulders as Javy struck a ridiculous pose in the background. No matter what the outcome of their switch was, it was worth it. Abby was clearly enjoying getting to know their father, and Charlie loved her mother more now than she ever had before. Sure, they might get punished once they were found out, but getting to know their parents was completely worth the potential trouble they were in.
The staccato vibration of her phone pulled her from her musing, Abby’s face lighting up the screen. She mashed the green button with her thumb, holding the phone up to her ear. “Hello?”
“Dad’s getting married!” She pulled the phone away from her ear quickly as Abby shouted down the receiver. “He got engaged to some blond woman who looks like she’s half his age!”
“Abby?” she couldn’t help the yawn that escaped her. “What are you talking about?” Dad? Engaged? Without introducing her (or Abby, in this case) to the woman? Impossible.
“I told you! The blond woman from this morning is wearing a rock the size of my head and hanging off of dad! She said that they’re getting married, and he confirmed it!”
Charlie’s stomach dropped and the cannoli and pizza she’d consumed earlier rose in her throat. “Wh…what? No! It…it’s not possible!”
“Except that it is! He told me it was happening whether I liked it or not!” Charlie’s throat worked to dislodge the tears that were silencing her, but, even if they went away, her mind could think of no words to make the situation better. “Would you say something, please?”
Say what, exactly? Her dad hadn’t been on a date in 12 years, always claiming to be too busy. Between the ranch and parenting his daughter, there weren’t enough hours in the day. Charlie had heard him explain that to Rooster and Javy more times than she could count, so what was this, exactly? He got engaged to someone and never thought that his daughter should be able to meet the woman who would be moving into their home?
Tear after tear traced delicate lines down her face, and she worked to keep her sobs silent, mindful of her aunt, uncle, and mother sleeping in the surrounding rooms.
“What do you want me to say, Abby?” she whispered. “Dad’s getting married, and he didn’t bother to even introduce her to me.”
Abby’s tinny sigh echoed through the receiver. “I know…”
Clutching Abby’s pink bunny close, she trembled as she groaned, “But he loves mom! I know he does! You don’t shut down that often about a person if you don’t care about them!”
“He shut down on me today too,” Abby agreed. “But it’s not like I can just tell him that he loves her. He would never go for that.”
“Can you find something to prove it?” For once, Charlie didn’t care that she sounded desperate. One of the best days of her life was somehow turning into a nightmare, and she needed it to stop. “Something to remind him?”
“Like what?”
“I dunno…a photo? Their marriage license? Anything that might remind him of her?”
“Where would I even find something like that?”
“In the office in the stable.”
Charlie heard Abby rustling around. “I’m there right now, I don’t see anything.”
“In the safe under his desk. Or in the filing cabinet. I don’t know the code to the safe or where he keeps the key to the cabinet though.”
Abby sighed again. “I’ll figure it out. I’ll let you know what I find.”
“Thanks…” Charlie sighed, wiping her eyes on the pink bunny’s fur. Come to think of it, she had an identical bunny at home, just in purple. “I’m sorry you have to deal with that while I’m having fun with mum.”
“It’s okay. Do…do you think mum still loves dad?”
Charlie rolled her eyes through her tears. “Abby, all her adult books are about a military guy falling in love with the woman of his dreams and the obstacles that keep them apart. She either loves him or she doesn’t know what else to write about.”
That much she knew was true. The whole reason her mother’s latest book hadn’t been turned in for publishing yet was because her mom had no clue how to reunite the two main characters, who were separated by duty to family and country.
“What if you’re wrong?” Abby whispered to her.
“I…” Charlie swallowed hard. “I don’t want to think about that. Find proof. I’ll find proof too. Then we’ll tell them about the switch.”
“Okay.”
“Okay. Good luck.”
“You too.”
Charlie hit the red button and let her phone slip out of her trembling hand. Her dad was getting married. To a woman she had never met before. Did he not care about how she would feel? Did he not think of her at all when he made the decision to get down on one knee? Did he think of Abby? Or their mother? What if he never thought about them? What if this whole idea was just one terrible bomb waiting to go off in their faces? What if, every time he shut down her questions about her mother, he was actually angry? What if she had misread the situation so terribly that it would have untold consequences when he found out about the switch?
Charlie felt herself begin to tremble more and struggled to take a deep breath.
Water. She needed water. That’s what her dad brought her every time her emotions took over like this. He would bring her a cool glass of water and hold her tight until the panic subsided. She may not be able to have her dad’s strong arms around her, but water she could do.
Stumbling out of bed, she quietly made her way downstairs, willing her legs to stop shaking long enough for her to get that glass of water.
She made it as far as the kitchen island before her legs gave out and she sunk to the floor in the dim light, her tears now flooding her face, her throat unable to even sob against the pressure building up inside her.
“Shhh, Charlie…it’s okay, sweetheart,” a pair of strong arms scooped her up and cradled her against a firm chest. She nuzzled into that chest, allowing her tears to soak into the white cotton t-shirt. A large hand smoothed over her hair and she felt her rescuer sit down on the couch, rocking her slightly. “It’s okay, honey. Let it all out. You’re okay, Charlie. You’re safe.”
Minutes, or perhaps hours later, she hiccupped and wiped her eyes, cradled like an infant in those arms that…were not her father’s, as her destressed mind had thought. She froze, and her rescuer sighed, lifting her slightly to lean her against the back of the couch.
Uncle Bob’s hand never left her back as she settled into a less cramped position, his hair ruffled and his glasses slightly askew. “It’s okay, Charlie,” he whispered. “Whatever’s going on in your brain can’t hurt you. We’ll find a way to fix it and, if we can’t, we’ll find a way to help you cope with it.”
Charlie blinked. He…he was calling her Charlie. He was calling her by her actual name. But…how did he…
“H-how long have you known?” she whispered, her heart settling back into a normal rhythm despite her sudden terror that her uncle would out her and ruin this before they were able to come up with a solid plan.
Bob shrugged in response. “Since the airport.”
“Buffalo or Heathrow?”
He grinned slightly, shrugging again. “Buffalo.”
Charlie groaned. “Tell me we had at least gotten on the plane first?”
“If I did that, I’d be lying.”
Charlie blinked up at him as she shifted to face him, curling her legs beneath her. “B-but…but you haven’t told anyone.”
Bob adjusted his glasses. “No, I haven’t.”
“But…why?”
Bob stared at her, his green eyes gleaming. “Because I trusted you and Abby have a good reason for this. And because your mother deserves to hear it from you, not from me. She’s missed you every day for 12 years. Far be it for me to steal that reunion from her.”
“I’m going to tell her. I swear. I just…Dad’s getting married,” she sniffled. “I don’t know if I can go home and face that right now.”
Bob reached out and gently tilted her head back so he could meet her eyes. “What did I just say? Whatever is happening, we’ll fix it together. And, if we can’t, we’ll find a way to cope with it together. Okay? That’s how this family works.”
Charlie nodded, eyes welling up again. “Thanks, Uncle Bob.”
“You’re welcome, sweetheart.” Bob opened his arms and she leaned into the hug, feeling safe and warm for the first time since she’d gotten back from the theatre. “You have to tell her though, Charlie. Tomorrow.”
She found herself nodding. “Tomorrow.”
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#jake seresin x reader#jake seresin#top gun maverick#top gun fanfiction#as you wish fic#parent trap au#jake hangman seresin#jake hangman fic#glen powell#tgm#hangman seresin#jake hangman x reader#jake hangman x you
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thanks, Matt
matpat means.... a lot to me, to say the least. I was raised in a single parent household and l haven't really considered myself to have a dad for a long time. while yes, I do technically have a dad, that's only really in the context of genetics. and my daddy issues but that's not important.
what is important is that matpat was my father, in a way. he was dubbed the title of "internet dad" long after he had already been one to me. he's part of the reason that I am the person I am today.
this piece exists because of matpat, for many reasons.
one, because I sobbed watching "goodbye internet" and want to do something special for his retirement.
two, because fnaf is the entire reason that I create what I do today, and that is partially heavily credited to matpat for overanalyzing a game about murderous animatronics in a pizzeria that I was obsessed with the moment I found out about it. 7 year old me was hooked, man.
and then I think through that, I found even more creators, which led to even more hyperfixating on weird nerdy shit, which led to me making more and more art.
and now, here I am. I'll be 17 years old in April. I graduate high school in one year.
I'm growing up.
not that I haven't been for my whole life because, well, that's how that works.
but I am nearing the true "end" of my childhood.
this year is fnaf's ten year anniversary.
this year marks a decade with game theory.
this year marks the beginning of the end.
I look back on my childhood. I went back to make one quick edit of my incredibly old Instagram account that I had way before I should've even had it.
I look back on the friends I had. I look back on all of the early-mid 2010s shit I posted and I smile. because it's cringe. it's cringe as hell and it's beautiful because of that.
and the nonsense theories are beautiful, and every single theory is beautiful because it exists. because it stems from the need to learn and think and have fun.
because that's what theorizing is about, in the end.
having fun.
matpat means a lot to me.
matpat is the reason that I am the person typing out this post. matpat is the reason that I am the person who spent 6 hours and 45 minutes drawing a piece featuring undertale and fnaf characters in it.
matpat inspires me to exist. and create. and think and learn and seek and everything.
yes, it's a bit parasocial. but it's hard for it to not be considering that I've spent more than half of my life growing alongside this man, seeing him grow in real time in tandem with myself.
I'm growing up.
but I still feel like a kid.
that's good and bad.
the bad is the part of my childhood that I didn't get to have because of my puberty hitting early. it's the fact that some of me is still a 12/13 year old in 2020. it's how the internet affected my growth.
the good is the part of me that still gets unreasonably excited when one of my interests gets brought up "in the wild." it's the fact that I love stuffed animals. it's how the internet affected my growth.
I look back on myself as a kid and, yes, I do indeed get embarrassed or genuinely cringe at how I was in some aspects. but I smile.
because it's me.
despite everything, it's still me.
despite everything, I'm still me, and matpat is still matpat, and despite every single thing that we've all gone through,
we're still us.
I remember one year, I bought myself the theorist varsity jacket with some Christmas money or something.
my best friend has the theorist backpack, I'm pretty sure.
hell, matpat's probably one of the reasons that they are my best friend.
two absolute geeks of GT kids, bonding over the nerdy stuff they liked, probably talking about theories. I don't remember super well, that was elementary school, man.
but isn't that incredible?
the fact that I'm still friends with someone I met in the first grade because of nerdy people like matpat.
I am forever grateful that I found the game theorists and became part of that group. so much of who I am is because I am a theorist. because I found one guy on the internet making overanalytical videos about games.
matpat means a lot to me. and if in case he somehow reads this whole weird ramble prose post open letter thingy, then I hope it means something to him.
but, hey, that's just a theory.
thanks for everything, Matt. <3
#ripley doesn't say stuff#ripley doesn't know how to draw#my art#game theory#the game theorists#matpat#im not gonna cry again. but i kinda want to#fnaf#undertale
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Hey cycle, a lot of users have been noticing that the people doing the most livestreaming on Live are brand new accounts. Most of them seem to be from September of this year at the earliest. I've been individually checking accounts because there's no easy way to click someone from the Live interface and look at their blog, which is extremely weird as a UI decision. I haven't found a single person who appears to participate in Tumblr, they're all influencer types with influencer type presence on various socials, or cam performers, or people with small businesses they're promoting in a general way. I'm only one person and of course my observations are limited and subjective, but I am on this app constantly and have seen only one established Tumblr user (besides myself) streaming at all. What's up with that? Did Tumblr get an influencer agency to bring in a bunch of people to stream on the Live launch? If so, why?
it looks like some of them are relatively new tumblr users, yeah. you can read a little bit of a different angle on our live video strategy here. i've actually seen a lot of very tumblr-y streams, of artists doing paintings and that 12 hour aquarium stream, but there are indeed some people who are more like your traditional "influencer". we're trying to see what works and what doesn't now that the feature is out in the wild, and we're trying not to repeat the same mistakes we made in the 2016 version of live streaming that we rolled out before (and then rolled back).
when live streaming launches for desktop web, i hope we'll see a big influx of minecraft streamers from tumblr, and other really different and interesting things. personally i want to do some live music streams like i used to on twitch, but i want to wait til there's support for streaming from OBS for that.
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I Have a Couple Hundred Thoughts Running Through My Brain
Tang hasn't been doing well since his finals and his doctoral program applications went out, but agreed to go with Pigsy and his family + the kids to see the New Years Fireworks (even though he hates fireworks and is stressed out of his mind). Surely all will go as planned.
Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 8.5 Part 9 Part 10 Part 10.5 Part 11 Part 12 Part 13
Ao3 Link
Tang was the most normal anyone could have possibly ever been in the history of being normal.
He definitely wasn’t sweating through his damn scarf with anxiety as he wandered down to the lobby of his apartment complex four times an hour just to check if he’d been accepted into a doctorate program.
It had been a difficult month– so difficult in fact he actually pondered looking up actual study methods that weren’t just cramming– desperate times indeed.
His finals were a mess, but he managed to scrape by with mostly B+s and only one C, so that was good.
Good enough for grad programs though..?
Tang didn’t know, and he felt mortal terror every time he tried to figure that out.
But alas, that was not the only thing on his mind, because tonight was Lunar New Years, and he was going to meet Pigsy’s parents again, and therefore had to tear through his closet in an attempt to find something that would leave a… better impression than the last time they’d met.
Ugh, Tang still cringed at the memory of it all.
No matter– he was just going to do better this time– simple as that.
…Better was possible, it had to be. Tang could be better– after all, if Mr. and Mrs. Zhu already think he’s rude, then that means it can only go up from there… right?
…
Tang was going to die tonight.
With many breathing exercises, Tang selected the same scarf he always wore, plus the tang suit he had worn on his and Pigsy's official first date because– well– he’d like to say it was because it had some deep meaning, but really it was because it was the only one he owned. Besides, he looked… kinda nice in it. If he combed his hair right– which he would’ve normally but lost too many prongs the other day and the poor thing had to finally be put to rest.
Which meant he was sticking with wild hair tonight.
Yayyyy….
Tang looked himself over in the mirror and almost pondered not wearing his glasses so he wouldn’t have to confront the fact he looked like he hadn’t slept or eaten in three weeks (which he had-! Technically. Most days, anyways). He couldn’t though– he had made a promise to Pigsy and he was going to fulfill it to the best of his abilities dammit– especially after receiving such a cryptic text the other day…
Free Food <3 : When are you visiting the restaurant again?
(Tang) : Have 1 test 2mor so after new years
Free Food <3 : Oh ok
(Tang) : R u ok?
Free Food <3 : Tired.
(Tang) : Want 2 talk?
Free Food <3 : No. See you at new years.
(Tang) : c u @ New Years, <3 u
Free Food <3 : ❤️
It wasn’t helped that Pigsy didn’t stop by for the next three days, and that he messaged it on career day, which was something he’d dreaded. Shame it went poorly, but there was nothing Tang could do now except make this night marvelous and perfect.
Now was the time to relax and enjoy the festivals and all that– this was fine! It was going to be great!
…It was going to be great.
With a sigh, Tang shoved his phone, keys, and barely-not-empty wallet into his pants pocket and headed out of his apartment.
Immediately Tang was bombarded with the sounds of street music, firecrackers, and salesmen trying to give rat themed trinkets and bamboo to burn to any tourist or child who walked by, so naturally Tang just kept his eyes forward as he struggled his way further downtown.
He was stopped by about five dragon dances and three groups of children in rat ears running in front of him, but thankfully the scholar made his way to the subway and was able to jump over the turnstile without getting caught by guards and wait for his train in the overcrowded and absurdly humid underground tunnel.
People bumped into the scrawny scholar about seven times before his train to the upper east arrived and Tang scrambled for a seat to let his ankles rest while they could. There was more singing and loud music on the train, as there was a group with a ruan singing Gong Xi, which was normally fine enough, but Tang found them particularly loud tonight.
Still, after three stops Tang handed a couple yuan over and waved goodbye before heading straight to Pigsy’s place.
…Tang hated rich neighborhoods, it brought back memories he was trying to forget. Not to mention, he definitely didn’t belong, looking the way he did right now.
Deep breaths, Tang, deep breaths.
He was glad Pigsy’s apartment complex was a lot quieter on the inside than the outside, and while he didn’t love dealing with security, he was glad to be in the elevator and riding up in silence.
Be normal, Tang. You are going to be the most normal you have ever been, ever. Simple. Easy. Be normal.
The elevator dinged for Tang’s arrival and so after taking a few more deep breaths, he knocked on the door.
Be. Normal.
The door swung open alarmingly quick, and where his Pigsy should’ve been, a much, much taller–
Ah- yes.
“H-hello, Mr. Zhu,” Tang bowed a little, though didn’t know why and cringed at himself.
Pigsy’s father looked down on him before snorting and stepping aside.
“Haha, thank you– sir,” Tang smiled as he stepped inside, which was when he noticed that Mrs. Zhu was playing piano, with MK by her side singing songs.
“Didn’t bring anything?” Mr. Zhu startled the poor scholar, who practically tripped over himself.
“I-i– not this time– I-i brought the wine and lotus for the mid-autumn festival though-! This time money’s just been not happening because of school and really–”
“Pops, is that Tang?” Tang heard his savior call from the kitchen, and Tang took the opportunity to sprint away.
“Hey you– two-!” He said, regarding Mei standing over a pot of noodles and stirring with a wooden ladle, who smiled at him.
“Tang– it’s good to see you,” Pigsy hugged Tang before immediately letting go and inspecting his face. “What happened to you? You’re practically skin and bone!”
“Ahhh, you’re just exaggerating,” Tang tried to brush off.
“Your hair is– well, it certainly ain’t bad– but it’s different too,” Pigsy noted with a slight blush. “Are you okay? Have you been okay?”
“Y-yeah! What about you– you seem to have a lot going on for promising dinner would just be quick before we head out,” Tang looked around.
“Partly Ma’s fault– but I– well… I dunno, I thought maybe it’d been awhile since– bah, nevermind,” Pigsy shook his head and checked on some spring rolls.
“He missssed youuuuuuuuuuuuu,” Mei ‘whispered’, getting her a look from Pigsy that made her laugh more.
“I– yes. I’ve… missed you,” He half mumbled.
Tang laughed, “It’s okay, I missed you too,” he teased, making Pigsy blush harder as he really really checked on those spring rolls, making Mei laugh more.
Tang paused, looking at her, then at Pigsy, then at her again before shaking his head.
The girl was seven– she couldn’t– like– know. Heck– she probably didn’t even know gay people existed. He was being crazy when he needed to be normal.
Be. Normal.
“So… MK and your mom, huh? What’re they doing playing piano together?” Tang asked, taking a seat on a stool at the kitchen island.
“Ma was talkin’ all about how she and my Nana used to play and how I’d– uh– also play,” Pigsy clearly lied, much to Tang’s suspicion.
“Really?” The scholar decided to push.
“Ha, yep,” Pigsy moved on to checking on how Mei was doing with the noodles.
“What notes and fingerings are in the D Major Scale?” Tang asked, and the demon froze.
“I– uh… d-.... D?” Pigsy tried, and Tang laughed.
“You never played piano! What are you hiding from me?” He laughed.
“Nothing-! Er– nothing important, anyways, I don’t really– it’s not relevant– maybe some other time,” Pigsy waved that off and Mei jumped off her stepping stool to join Tang.
“He wouldn’t tell us either. Said he hadn’t been around a piano in years so no point in bringing ‘it’ up now since he was out of practice,” Mei informed the scholar.
“Interesting,” Tang stroked his chin just to tease his easily flustered partn–boyfr–
Shit– Did they have a label yet??? Or were they just “dating”? Has it been long enough? It had been five months– that felt kind of long. But was it enough….
“So… why’s MK interested?” Tang switched back the conversation to his original curiosity.
“Oh, well… I don’t know,” The chef scratched the back of his neck. “I think kid just likes the sound and feeling of pressing the keys, and of course Ma’ll take any opportunity to try and revive her piano teachin’ days.”
“Aw, that’s sweet,” Tang commented. “What about you Mei? You got any instrumental interests?”
“I can play the guqin, erhu, and a little bit of dizi,” Mei shrugged. “Wasn’t really my thing, but if I had to pick, guqin was the most interesting.”
“Ah– parents force you into lessons?” Tang pitied as the girl nodded. “It’s okay– my parents made me learn guqin when I was a kid, and guzheng when I was older.”
“Yeesh– I don’t think I could handle that many strings,” Mei shook her head.
“Oh trust me, I couldn’t either– that’s why they kicked me out of the orchestra,” Tang laughed. “I did always fancy the erhu though– you’re gonna have to give me tips one day.”
“Oh– okay!” Mei seemed pleasantly surprised by the suggestion, meaning Tang had won at least one conversation today (something normal to want and possible to achieve), meaning he could relax a bit.
Only a bit though, as Mr. Zhu walked in and went to the couch shortly after.
Pigsy noticed this and scoffed, “Don’t mind ‘im, he’s just here cuz Ma’s here.”
His father huffed in contempt before lighting a cigar that had been in his coat pocket.
Pigsy growled, but said nothing.
“Sooo… you excited for the fireworks, Mei?” Tang asked, successfully changing the rapidly declining energy in the room, as Mei rambled and rambled and rambled until Pigsy announced it was time and dinner was served.
And wowza– Tang thought he was going to pass out at the large swarms of food around him– everything from spring rolls to duck to dumplings to the yi mian looked amazing, which he of course expected from Pigsy but… yeah, wowza.
“Jiejie, your little guest looks like he’s going to faint,” Mrs. Zhu teased Tang as she grabbed herself some spring rolls.
“Ma, please,” Pigsy gave her a look.
“No, no– she’s right– this is– wow– it looks amazing sw– Pigsy,” Tang panic smiled.
“I– uh– thanks,” Pigsy blushed a little before clearing his throat, “Anyone want the yi mian?”
“I do!!” MK waved his hand excitedly.
“Too bad,” Pigsy winked and served himself some.
“Ah beans,” MK crossed his arms.
Tang laughed, “MK, it’s a lazy susan, just grab what’s in front of you.”
“Oh right yeah,” MK face palmed and scooped some rice for himself then Mei.
The second food was able to hit Tang’s lips, he just about melted into a puddle in his seat– right before his hunger kicked in and he started just about scarfing it all down.
Mrs. Zhu laughed at that again, this time asking, “Pigsy, are you sure this fellow of yours isn’t actually a pig demon?”
“M-ma!!” Pigsy exclaimed while Tang choked on his food.
“Oh! Right– that’s rude isn’t it? Hm,” His mother shook it off jovially while Pigsy patted Tang’s back.
“Fellow? What’s a fellow?” MK looked at Pigsy and Tang.
“Friend, MK. It just means friend,” Pigsy sighed as Tang regained composure.
“Oh right– my mistake,” Mrs. Zhu looked at Pigsy and Tang once over before shrugging to herself, sending a wave of panic down Tang.
Normal, Tang. Act normal, think normal, be normal.
Especially because Mr. Zhu is looking right at you ahahahahhaahahhaha—
Tang kept his eyes forward and ate at his best attempt of a normal pace to eat food (though certainly chugged a bit of the jiao wine).
Tang sighed a massive breath of relief when dinner finally came to an end, and Tang could excuse himself to the restroom, where he promptly stared at himself in the mirror.
“Okay Tang, you survived dinner,” He whispered to himself. “Now all you gotta do is survive fireworks. Easy peasy. Totally chill and normal and pbbt– whatever.”
Oh god, he was totally tipsy.
Well… it was better than completely drunk, so Tang would just have to roll with it.
“Tang? You–uh– alright in there?” Pigsy knocked on the door, causing Tang to jump and knock over some soap.
“I-i– yes! It’s fine! I’m fine! Thanks Pigsy,” Tang panicked to fix it before looking at himself in the mirror.
What a mess.
He cleaned his glasses, mumbling the whole time before seeing if that made him look any better and– yeah, nope. Nothing could save him now.
Welp. Here goes nothing.
He opened the door, greeted by a worried looking Pigsy, who examined him up and down.
“Are you okay?” He asked bluntly.
“Of course, Pigsy. Now c’mon– I don’t think I heard Mei say she wanted to see a lion dance,” He took Pigsy’s hand with zero hesitation and headed for the door.
“I– uh– okay,” Pigsy laughed but only a little.
“UGH– can we go now? I don’t wanna miss a lion danceeeee,” Mei complained.
“Told ya,” Tang snorted, stumbling a little.
“Right– everyone got coats?” Pigsy rolled his eyes with a smile. MK and Mei nodded, but that made Tang pause because he most certainly did not.
Tang thought perhaps Pigsy wouldn’t notice, but then MK loudly pointed out he didn’t and all eyes were on him.
“Tang– it’s new years, where’s your coat?” Pigsy looked around.
Mrs. Zhu tilted her head. “Do you not have one, dear?”
Mr. Zhu just looked at him.
“Ah– it’s fine, it’s all fine– I don’t need one– I am very resistant to cold actually,” Tang lied with the kind of confidence that could only arise with intoxication.
“Then why do you wear a scarf all the time?” MK tilted his head.
“That is purely a… fashion statement,” He lied again.
“Ah geez, I’d offer you one of mine, Tang, but uh… I don’t think they’d fit,” Pigsy scratched his neck.
“It’s fine, Pigsy, really,” He smiled at the demon.
“If you say so,” Pigsy looked him up and down again before shaking his head. “Let's roll out then.”
And roll out they did, right into the bustling and unreasonably loud streets of uppercrust Megapolis. Lights and lanterns and fire were decorating nearly every corner, as well as people selling flowers, jade souvenirs, and rat themed memorabilia, just as it had been on his way up, but these ones were even more overpriced.
“Ooo! Ooo! Ooo! Can I get a rat plushie Pigsy? Can I? Can I? Can I?” Mei jumped up and down and pointed to a stall.
“I– uh–”
“Oh I’ll buy one for you dear,” Mrs. Zhu interrupted her son and suddenly she and Mei were off.
“Uh… okay,” Pigsy blinked. “You want anything MK?”
MK looked around and shrugged. “Call me when it's the year of the monkey.”
Tang laughed. “That won’t be for awhile, MK.”
“Ah beans,” MK crossed his arms and looked at the stuffed animals again before shaking his head again. “I’m fine. Don’t need one.”
“Alright, let me know if you change your mind,” Pigsy accepted and they waited for Mei, who returned with not only a plushie, but rat eats, stick on whiskers, a keychain, and two sparklers.
Something about that… struck Tang. He couldn’t say what or why, but there was now a void in his chest he hadn’t previously been aware of.
Normal, Tang. Be normal.
“Sooooo– anyone interested in seeing any–” Tang was interrupted by the deafening sound of teenagers lighting firecrackers on the street nearby, causing Tang to run his fingers against his scarf and wince.
“Ooo! I wanna light firecrackers!” MK shouted. “Can we get some of those Pigsy?”
“Yeah that’s gonna be a no,” Pigsy cringed and guided them closer to where a lion dance was getting started.
The kids seemed satisfied, but all Tang could think about was all of the loud instruments and cracking and screaming as it all started to just swirl in his brain. That, combined with the half-frozen rain beginning to fall, and a bad feeling in his stomach made for a rather unpleasant experience for the poor scholar. Not that he’d let anyone know this, of course– that’d be just beyond rude. And Tang wasn’t rude. He was pleasant. He was nice.
He was normal.
Besides, it was still fun to watch the truly admirable talent of the dancers as the tail ends would lift the heads to show the lion “standing on its hind legs” and then watch it jump from platform to platform, while moving in perfect sync. Heck– it brought back memories to when he had told his mother he wanted to be a lion dancer when he was older, but she had said–
…
Tang kept watching.
At one point, a bubble machine turned on and suddenly MK and Mei were both running around trying to pop them while also cheering on the dancers, and Tang just kind of looked around to see if there was anywhere to sit, as his ankle was starting to flare up. However, before he could get a chance, confetti poppers went off as the lions unfurled banners in their mouths calling for good fortune and for a prosperous new year, which made everyone clap and cheer. Tang wanted to pull his ears off, but clapped along nonetheless.
At least it meant the dance was over and MK and Mei arrived with fistfulls of confetti.
“Pigsy! Can I keep this?!” MK showed the confetti to his guardian.
“Kid, you aren’t gonna remember where you got that from in a week,” Pigsy shook his head, “it’s best to just toss it out.”
“Awww, but it’s so pretty! And it’ll just go in the trash!” MK whined.
“That’s the life of confetti for you,” Pigsy shrugged. “C’mon, the fireworks are gonna start soon and I want us to find a good spot.”
Finally sitting down, thank goodness.
“Oh-! But first…” Mrs. Zhu winked at the children before running off to another stall, making her husband roll his eyes.
MK blinked. “What’s she getting?”
Pigsy sighed, “Probably somethin’ nobody needs.”
Tang didn’t know if it’d be rude to agree but he sure wanted to with how much he was starting to get a headache and ankle ache and everything ache. But no, Tang was trying to make a good impression and just kept running his hands on his scarf over and over and over again.
He really wanted this night to end already.
Mrs. Zhu didn’t seem like she would return for awhile though, making Pigsy on edge while Tang tried rocking back and forth to see if it would relieve any of his anxiety or aches, but nothing was working which only caused it to increase while they all just stood there wishing they could be sitting down.
When Mrs. Zhu returned though, it was clear what took her so long– as she was holding two bouquets of chrysanthemums with either a little jade monkey and dragon attached and a little note card with fancy calligraphy.
“Ah– Ma, that’s… very kind,” Pigsy grimaced.
“Jiayi, you’re going to spoil them,” Mr. Zhu said his longest sentence of the night with a huff.
“Oh you hush now, Hangleng,” Mrs. Zhu waved him off and handed the bouquets to the children, leaving poor Mei struggling with all her merchandise.
Pigsy sighed. “Here Mei– I’ll carry some,” he offered, and the girl sloppily handed over literally everything except the unlit sparklers, which she noticed.
“Piggy, can we light these?” Mei asked.
Pigsy was clearly prepared for this, looking up in dramatic thought before suddenly sucking air through his teeth, “Sorry kiddo, but you need a lighter for those and I don’t have one on me.”
“Ah nuts,” Mei kicked the ground.
“Sorry kiddo, maybe next year you can use the dangerous sparklers,” Pigsy patted her back when suddenly Mr. Zhu reached into his pocket and brought out his lighter.
“Woah– really?” Mei’s face lit up, meanwhile Pigsy looked like he was going to kill his dad, to a still sort of tipsy Tang’s amusement.
Mr. Zhu just rolled his eyes and Mei took the lighter.
“Ack– here– how’s about I just–” Pigsy sighed in frustration over his own lack of hands.
“Here– hand it to me Mei,” Tang offered instead, which Pigsy still wasn’t loving but Mei handed it over and Tang flicked it on with ease.
One by one MK and Mei lit their sparklers, and the pair instantly became mesmerized.
“This is the coolest thing ever!” MK’s grin was so wide it looked like it might fall off his face, making Tang laugh.
“Just don’t touch it– it’s still fire,” Pigsy warned.
“Psssssshhhhhhhhhhh, I’m a dragon, I think I’ll be fine,” Mei proudly proclaimed, trying to draw a star with the light.
After that the two of them tried spelling their names and drawing animals, but mostly just drew scribbles while the adults tried to usher them to a designated firework watching area– though they were already starting to get rather full.
“Ah nuts!” Mei cursed as her sparkler went out and she immediately turned and ran to her guardian. “Piggy, can I get another one?”
“No.” Pigsy huffed, giving a look to his parents.
“Man,” Mei kicked rocks and MK did too as his also went out.
“Oh come on, Jiejie, it wouldn’t hurt them,” His mother disagreed, looking around.
“Ma, please don’t run off again,” Pigsy gave his mother a look.
“Don’t back talk your mother, Bajie,” His father fought back and alarms started ringing in Tang’s head.
“Ah– guys, maybe let’s just go sit down and–” Tang tried to intercede, but Mei interrupted him.
“Oh! oh! They’re selling fa gao! Pigsy can we–” Mei loudly proclaimed before MK interrupted her too and soon it was all just a hot mess of everyone talking at the same time except Tang who was standing around like a total dolt and was completely out of touch for where his role was supposed to be in the dynamic. It was like he could hear but couldn’t at the same time– especially as drums were blaring and kids were yelling and people were talking on microphones and–
An ear piercing whistling sound broke above all the noise though, interrupting Tang’s train of thought/panic until a loud pop arrived, with many crackling sounds afterwards– meaning the fireworks had started.
Great– great, great, great, great was all Tang could think as he suddenly started rocking back and forth as he pulled harder and harder on his scarf. It at least stopped the arguing (thank the great sage) but that didn’t stop the chills from running across Tang’s body and his burning desire to somehow get out of here– but he couldn’t because he was being normal, dammit.
“That’s what– ugh,” Pigsy rubbed his forehead, before turning to Tang and having to take a step back. “Woah there– are you– okay?” Pigsy immediately worried.
“What? No– no, I’m fine! Really, haha,” He lied, his hands moving faster as his eyes darted to the sky where another firework went off, causing him to cover his ears instinctively.
“Ma? Pops? Can you watch MK and Mei a second? Pigsy asked.
“What-?! No! I’m fine Pigsy! Y-you don’t– your parents are guests! Th-they should be–” Tang was going to protest more but more fireworks went off and he wanted nothing more than to shrivel up and die.
“We’ll watch them dear, you take him back home,” Mrs. Zhu patted her son's arm as Mr. Zhu looked Tang over for the fifty millionth time.
“Whaaaat? You’re leaving?” MK looked at Tang with childlike heartbreak.
“I-i– ah–” He tried to remove his hands from his ears, but another firework went off.
“C’mon Tang,” Pigsy tried to take his arm, but Tang snatched it away– before realizing that wasn’t normal and he was being a freaking weirdo right now and– he was supposed to be impressing Pigsy’s parents– why was he like this-? Why couldn’t he just–
Another boom had Tang nearly jump out of his own damn skin, which was followed by a bigger headache and more pain and confusion and Taang knew he needed to go home if he didn’t want to make a complete and total embarrassment out of himself.
He looked back at Pigsy, who didn’t know what to do– he even looked a little heartbroken, which only made Tang feel worse, but well– he needed his help– he was not going to make it through these crowds alone, that was for sure.
“Tang..?” Pigsy asked though, and Tang managed to focus on him– though his hands returned to running along his scarf.
“L-lets– uh– go home,” Tang managed to say, wincing as another firework was set off. Pigsy more carefully offered an arm this time, and Tang took it and clung to it like a lifeboat.
The pair didn’t talk, even as they got further and further from the group, as Pigsy just silently patted his arm whenever another firework went off or a gong crashed or any other sudden noise occurred. Tang felt like such a child for needing such comfort, but was thankful to have it anyways– he didn't deserve Pigsy sometimes.
When they arrived at Pigsy’s place, the bright lights made Tang hiss as he entered, and out of instinct he went straight to the bathroom, closing the door and turning off the light to just sit in the dark for a little bit, trying his best not to worry about Pigsy pacing just outside the door.
After a minute or so though, Pigsy knocked quietly.
“Y-y-yes?” Tang managed to talk despite feeling too exhausted for speech.
“Do you– uh… want tea or something? Pigsy asked.
“Yeah that sounds… nice,” Tang agreed and he heard Pigsy shuffle away and in and out of rooms.
Ugh, Tang was such a loser. What was this? A highschool party? He should’ve been over all this– whatever it was. He was an adult and doctoral program applicant. His parents said it was just nerves when he got like this– was this nerves? It was nerves, right? Nerves plus alcohol maybe. But nerves for sure.
It took about five minutes for Tang to realize his heart had stopped pounding and his thoughts were mostly normal– if far and few between– though that also made him realize he was exhausted.
Fun.
He remained in the bathroom for another five or so minutes before he decided it was time to emerge from the cold dark bathroom and back into reality.
When he opened the door he was surprised to find the lights were a lot dimmer than before– maybe Pigsy had one of those fancy dimmers right people houses could have.
Either way, what a relief.
It was also rather toasty, which was good because while the bathroom was refreshing, his sweat mixed with rain water made his clothes cling to him and he was absolutely freezing by now.
When he got to the kitchen, he saw Pigsy had taken off his own jacket and Tang suit, revealing just a thick white tank top that he wore under, making Tang blush as he stared for just a moment.
After a while he shook out of it and noticed the demon also had a thick fluffy blue robe laid over a stool along with a bottle of ibuprofen.
“Is… that for me?” Tang asked curiously.
“Oh-! I– uh– thought you might want to take off your shirt since it’s all– uh– wet and stuff– but only if you’re comfortable,” Pigsy confessed, which made Tang laugh a little.
“Thanks,” he smiled at Pigsy tiredly before going over to it and taking off his shirt (which had no tank top underneath) before instantly regretting it when he heard Pigsy make a worried noise.
“Ah– um– Sorry– it’s just– how well have you been eatin’ these three weeks? You’re– skinnier.” The chef apologized as Tang quickly put on the robe.
“Well it's– um–” Tang didn’t turn around, even after he was very wrapped up in the massive robe that was a borderline blanket on him.
Tang sighed. “It’s harder during finals because I don’t have time for surveys or whatever when I need to cram for exams.”
“Tang, you should’ve told me,” Pigsy said softly.
“I know, I know– I… know,” Tang fiddled with the robe’s belt. “It’s just… embarrassing, sometimes.”
“Yeah, I can get that. But still, I’m nothing if not your free food supplier, so you shouldn’t feel bad for asking– especially if you really do need it,” The demon pointed out as Tang took a seat at the island once more.
“You’re more than a food supplier Pigsy,” Tang defended himself.
“I didn’t mean it like that– I meant it more like ‘you can always ask’ kind of way– you know?” Pigsy’s face flushed.
“Yeah, I do,” Tang chuckled a little, making Pigsy blush more before he finally took in the sight of the human in his robe and laughed.
“That thing is swallowing you alive,” He said as the kettle started to squeal and he quickly turned it off.
“Ha– yeah,” Tang noticed it too. “It’s nice though– makes me feel all cozy,” he hugged himself a little for emphasis.
“Glad my size could be of service to you,” Pigsy joked, pouring hot water into two mugs.
“Oh please, your size is always serving me,” Tang wiggled his eyebrows, making Pigsy turn red as a tomato in seconds, making the scholar burst into laughter.
“You really do get flustered easily! That’s fun,” Tang laughed more as Pigsy rolled his eyes and looked through his tea selection.
“Yeah, yeah– what kind do you want?” He asked, clearly trying not to think about the comment.
“Oolong.”
“Smart,” Pigsy winked and pulled out two bags and promptly began brewing them.
Silence filled the kitchen, and Tang was left back with his more… uncomfortable thoughts.
“Do you… think your parents like me?”
Wow Tang, really smooth. What a question. You are the king of self confidence.
“I think I’ve certainly dated far worse people,” Pigsy snorted, before adding– “not that I’ve told them we’re dating, of course.”
“Right, yes,” Tang laughed a little, though tension still didn’t leave his shoulders and he rubbed the robe belt between two fingers.
Pigsy looked at him and brought the mug over. “Does their opinion matter to you?”
“I– well– this sounds really stupid, but all day the only thing I’ve been really thinking about is impressing your parents but right now everything is just such a mess– especially back at my place– so I–” Tang sighed. “Yes. It matters a lot.”
“Oh…” Pigsy half-whispered as he sat next to him on a stool. “I… they do like you, I’m sure of that much– Pop’s is just like that around everyone.”
“Oh I can believe that,” Tang joked and took a sip of tea, embracing the warmth as it traveled through his body.
“Yeah, and Ma– well… she just kinda says things a lot and I’m pretty sure she only ever means twenty percent,” Pigsy shrugged and took a sip too.
“Better than a mom who rarely talks at all,” Tang shrugged.
“Yeah, probably,” The chef agreed.
Tang listened a bit more to the distant sound of fireworks and crowds cheering below as he took another long sip of tea.
“I’m sorry for acting so weird today. I swear it was just because I wanted to impress your parents– no other reason,” He said, eyeing the ibuprofen.
“Yeah, no, I get it,” Pigsy smiled softly. “Plus I get weird around lights and sounds sometimes too. Heck– my ma used to complain about how I wouldn’t like particular blankets or pants because I said they “felt yucky” – whatever that means,” he snorted.
Tang laughed too. “Yeah– I’m normally better though, but I guess today– holidays like this in general, too– are just… difficult sometimes.”
“Yeah, maybe next year we’ll just stay inside,” Pigsy suggested.
“Next year?” Tang blinked.
That made the chef sit a little straighter. “What? Do you think you won’t want to be here next year or–”
“Oh– heavens no-! I just mean– I– you’d want me here next year?” Tang quickly clarified.
“Of course– Tang, I want you to visit every year,” Pigsy placed a hand on Tang’s shoulder, stroking it with his thumb.
“O-oh– then– yeah, that’d be nice,” it was now Tang’s turn to blush a deep shade of red and he quickly went back to his tea, which he swore felt like was healing every fiber of his being.
“...Tang?” Pigsy asked, tapping his fingers against his mug.
“Yes?”
“Do… do you like dating and being with… me?” Pigsy asked quietly.
“Of course I do! I love every second being with you– you’re so wonderful and brave and strong and handsome and– heavens, I’m rambling,” Tang caught himself as Pigsy chuckled.
“Good, I was just– wondering,” The demon looked away.
“Why?”
“You… I dunno, you seem to think you won’t be around here long,” Pigsy shrugged.
“Oh– I didn’t mean it like that– I just–...”
“...You just what?”
‘I just don’t know what the heck we are yet.’
Tang drank more of his tea before glancing at Pigsy, who was looking back at him worriedly.
With a deep breath, Tang mustered all of the courage inside himself to ask– “Are we… like… boyfriends?”
“What? Of course,” Pigsy blinked. “Did… we not agree on that before?”
Tang blinked before bursting into laughter, almost spilling his tea as he did.
“Oh heavens me– here I’ve been all worried about if you wanted to be ‘official’ and here you are already thinking we are,” the scholar had to hold his sides.
“Fuck– we really didn’t say that then, did we,” Pigsy was deeply embarrassed. “Man, I’m sorry– I have no idea where I got that from.”
“No-! No, it’s fine, really,” Tang assured with a big smile. “I just– it’s funny now that it’s in retrospect.”
“Ah, that’s good,” Pigsy relaxed and laughed a little too. “Had me scared there for a second too.”
“Now we’re even,” Tang grinned as he took another sip.
“That’s for sure,” The demon laughed a bit more.
Tang smiled at the sentiment for only a minute, before something else crawled to the forefront of his mind.
"Pigsy–” Tang blurted, instantly getting the chef’s attention.
Fuck– he hadn’t meant to actually get his attention, but now…
“Do you think I’m… normal?”
"What… do you mean?" Pigsy tilted his head a little.
"I-i… I don't know," Tang looked down at his half empty mug. "Sometimes I just– I feel like somethings wrong with me but I can't say what or why or how– it's like I can't help it…"
"Tang, I don't think anything's wrong with you," Pigsy reached his hand towards the scholar.
Tang winced a little. “I… thanks, but… I don’t know,” he sighed.
Pigsy chewed on his lip a bit before sighing. “Look, even if you aren’t “normal”, that doesn’t make you less than, you know? You’re every bit a person as anyone else, and anyone’d be lucky to have you in their life,” Pigsy’s hand inched closer.
“Like my parents?” Tang muttered.
“Like Me n’ MK n’ Mei, Tang,” Pigsy finally touched Tang’s hand.
“I-i don’t know– I’m not really– like– you’re a total natural at this parent thing, you know that?” Tang tried to brush off.
“Tang, the kids are lucky to have you in their lives. It’s good for them to have a human in their life that’s a bit odd– it’s healthy,” Pigsy insisted.
“I… guess,” Tang shrugged. “I just– I’m not– I wish things were just… easier, sometimes. Like– even doing things like talking or looking people in the eyes– it’s al stupid difficult and it isn’t for most people and I just–” Tang took a breath.
“I just wish I could be normal so that your parents would like me and I wouldn’t feel like a dolt around the kids so often and even around you sometimes,” He sort of chuckled, but it was more out of anxiety than anything.
“But that’s what makes you you, Tang, and I wouldn’t change that for the world,” Pigsy gave his hand a squeeze.
Tang squeezed right back, but didn’t say anything, drinking more tea with his free hand.
Another thought.
“What if one day, I– I just– what if it’s too much? What if even you don’t wanna deal with it– what if I-i just end up driving you crazy? What then?” Tang’s voice cracked.
“That won’t happen, Tang.”
“You don’t know that,” He let go of Pigsy’s hand.
He seemed to successfully corner Pigsy at that for a moment, as the chef went quiet in contemplation while Tang waited to see what he’d say next (if anything at all).
Probably not. Tang usually ruined these kinds of things– mostly unintentionally. Great.
“Tang, I’m not normal. You realize that?” The chef suddenly asked.
“I– what?” Tang was set back.
“Tang, I’m literally a demon.”
“I– yeah, but–”
“No ‘but’s. If you’re weird, I’m weird,” He argued. “And weirdos like us belong together.”
Tang looked at Pigsy, taking in his soft expression before kissing his cheek, which Pigsy responded to by kissing him on the lips, which Tang responded by hugging him tight, which startled the demon.
Pigsy didn’t say anything though, stroking his back in a soothing rhythm as Tang felt himself begin to melt in his arms.
Pigsy always felt so safe– Tang didn’t know why he tended to hesitate. He loved him– he loved him deeply.
He wanted to stay like this forever.
“Pigsy, I don’t want to go home,” Tang confessed.
“You don’t have to,” Pigsy instantly assured.
Tang kissed him again.
“I want to stay here tonight, Pigsy,” Tang repeated.
“Okay,” Pigsy kissed him again.
“Can I..?” Tang asked and it was then the chef’s face lit with recognition.
“O-of course-! If you–uh– want to,” Pigsy cleared his throat a bit.
Tang laughed a little, kissing him once more and trying to get off the stool, only to be instantly reminded of how much his legs– more specifically his ankles– hurt.
“Ah– are you okay?” Pigsy backed up.
“I’m fine, just my stupid weak ankles,” Tang shrugged.
“Well we can’t have that now can we,” Pigsy got an idea and smirked.
“What are you– oh my–!” Tang exclaimed as Pigsy suddenly scooped him up.
“I don't want you on your feet more than necessary. Lying on your back is more relaxing,” Pigsy explained himself, moving towards his room.
“Oh?” Tang smirked with a raised eyebrow.
Pigsy smirked right back before kissing him and carefully opening his door with one hand, and the pair continued to kiss until Pigsy kicked the door shut carefully with his foot and even long, long after that.
What a night.
#lego monkie kid#lmk#freenoodles#tang lmk#pigsy lmk#autistic tang#we love when the gay people#slightly suggestive ending#anxiety#overstimulation#sensory issues#mk lmk#mei lmk#my fics#dadsy of two au
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Without spoiling anything bc there will indeed be more information coming soon - the timestamp for this post is very early on May 15 with the most recent update being May 12 - but regarding posts about how Jonathan is allegedly so stupid that he doesn't understand he's in danger nor has he tried to escape, I'm not going to go over how he is completely aware that he's in trouble again or the uncomfortable implications of calling an abuse victim with self-doubt 'stupid' and 'why doesn't he just leave' rhetoric, but I do want to point out that as of May 8, which is three days into his imprisonment, he has, in fact, already tried to find a way to escape.
From the first part of the May 8 journal entry, right after the shaving mirror incident:
After breakfast I did a little exploring in the castle. I went out on the stairs, and found a room looking towards the South. The view was magnificent, and from where I stood there was every opportunity of seeing it. The castle is on the very edge of a terrible precipice. A stone falling from the window would fall a thousand feet without touching anything! As far as the eye can reach is a sea of green tree tops, with occasionally a deep rift where there is a chasm. Here and there are silver threads where the rivers wind in deep gorges through the forests.
But I am not in heart to describe beauty, for when I had seen the view I explored further; doors, doors, doors everywhere, and all locked and bolted. In no place save from the windows in the castle walls is there an available exit.
The castle is a veritable prison, and I am a prisoner!
And immediately after that:
When I found that I was a prisoner a sort of wild feeling came over me. I rushed up and down the stairs, trying every door and peering out of every window I could find; but after a little the conviction of my helplessness overpowered all other feelings. When I look back after a few hours I think I must have been mad for the time, for I behaved much as a rat does in a trap. When, however, the conviction had come to me that I was helpless I sat down quietly—as quietly as I have ever done anything in my life—and began to think over what was best to be done. I am thinking still, and as yet have come to no definite conclusion.
And then:
This gave me a fright, for if there is no one else in the castle, it must have been the Count himself who was the driver of the coach that brought me here. This is a terrible thought; for if so, what does it mean that he could control the wolves, as he did, by only holding up his hand in silence.
Every single one of the many doors in the castle is locked, the castle itself is built on a cliff where there's a thousand-feet drop beneath the windows and death is guaranteed if he were to fall, nevermind that he has no means to climb out anyway, and even if he were to escape through the front door from which he had entered, he would be facing miles and miles of endless forest on foot and without a map in unknown territory, of which he has no familiarity bc Dracula deliberately kept him in the dark about the way to the castle, and he knows Dracula can control the wolves to chase after him if he wanted.
And yet, he's still thinking about how to survive and get out of the dangerous situation he's in! But under the current circumstances, it makes rational sense why he wouldn't immediately be escaping the castle right now when everything is against him and his odds of survival, and it makes more sense to try and write for help from the outside world first.
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The Prince of Thieves: As Good as Gold, and Better: Part I
Contains: an awkwardly, slowly developing romance 💕, the scratches you get when you put up a Christmas tree 🎄
Previous | TPOT Masterlist | Next | Read on Ao3 instead
Word count: 2850 || Approx reading time: 12 mins
Follows from TPOT's Ending B: it ends with a promise (not the kissing ending).
As Good as Gold, and Better: Part I
Teaser: It does look like she’s been in a hot kitchen for hours: hair in a wild, unkempt halo around her head from the heat, bright spots in her cheeks, sweat glistening on her face and neck, dark strands that slipped from her braid slicked onto her skin.
Colette
That innkeeper woman, Stella, really is a piece of work.
She’s interesting to watch, for sure. When she’s running around playing her role as the dog-tired, long-suffering inn owner, barking orders at her staff—and at anyone who steps out of line, actually, whether they’re a guest or a stranger or anything else—she’s intimidating, and I can understand why a little flicker of fear comes into Bree’s eyes every time she hears a screech of, “Lucy!” hurtling across the dining room.
But there’s a softness to her that comes out when she’s talking to the other woman, Celeste, who helps her run the place, and it’s in those moments that I can’t take my eyes off the two of them. Once, in the span of an hour, I watched her reach for her partner’s hand and brush their fingers together nine times. And every time Stella looked over at Celeste, she smiled.
It vanished every time she looked at anyone else, of course, but it was there.
I spend a lot of my time watching those two, actually. What does Celeste see in Stella that the rest of us can’t? I wonder what about her must be so very different when they’re away from the eyes of their guests. Of the outside world.
Bree and the other girl she works with, a pretty blonde thing who makes doe eyes at every handsome man who walks through the door, don’t seem to wonder nearly as much as I do, but they do sure love Celeste for being the one thing that seems to keep Stella happy and not yelling at them.
It’s been one of those days where we’ve barely seen Bree at all. Victoria’s been running around helping people in the dining room, along with her two bosses from time to time, but Bree has been almost invisible. When I finally lay eyes on her, I burst into a laugh. “What happened to you?”
“Damn Christmas,” she mumbles, wiping her forehead on her sleeve—entirely pointless, because she’s covered in flour, and now there’s just more of it streaking her face. “I spent the morning cleaning upstairs and now I’m on baking duty.”
It does look like she’s been in a hot kitchen for hours: hair in a wild, unkempt halo around her head from the heat, bright spots in her cheeks, sweat glistening on her face and neck, dark strands that slipped from her braid slicked onto her skin.
“And that?” I ask, stifling a laugh at the sight of a golden-brown splotch on her apron.
“Brandy,” she replies darkly. “I knocked it over and our cook almost clubbed me to death with the bottle.”
“Oh,” Victoria says, swinging by, a stack of soiled napkins piled high in her arms. “I dropped the flour last year. I thought he was going to kill me right then and there.”
“Merry Christmas,” Bree says, shaking her head, and with a tired, sighing chuckle, Victoria returns the sentiment and disappears.
Bree dusts her hands off fruitlessly on her skirt. “Where are the others?”
The others, indeed. But I let her pretend she cares about where all of them went, not just one. “Your boss woman put them to work.”
Bree blinks. “Really?”
“Mmm hmm. You’ll see soon enough.” I drum my fingers on the copy I found of A Christmas Carol, the only appropriate (well, palatable) reading material for Christmas Eve in this place. “I made myself scarce and escaped.”
“That was wise.”
“I agree.”
She’s eyeing the book, and after a moment, I push it toward her. “You’ve read it before?”
“A long time ago.” The crackle of flipping pages drifts upwards as she peruses, scanning the words but not really seeming to read in-depth. “I remember liking it.”
“I’m probably going to end up reading it to them tonight,” I say. “Maybe finish it tomorrow.”
“To them?”
“Yes.” Is that strange? Hard to tell. Jamie, Will, Geoff, and I have been together for so many years now, it’s hard to tell what might be considered out of the ordinary by everyone else’s standards. But Allan’s never seemed to think it’s bizarre when we have our little read-aloud sessions. Although, to be fair, I wouldn’t necessarily trust him to tell me what’s normal and what’s not; he generally doesn’t know, anyway. “Like a tradition. Jamie reads sometimes, but it’s usually me.”
Bree bites her lip, hiding a smile. “You don’t make Will do it?”
“Ha! Good luck with that.” The thought is laughable. “Ask him and see what he says.”
She grins down at the book, and I let her keep flipping through. Celeste, breezing by, takes pity on her and drops off a plate of food to nibble on before she heads back to work. Bree absently chews on some buttered bread, going back to the first page, seeming to get lost there and entirely forget that we were talking.
I don’t mind. Inns are good places for people-watching, and sitting with her while I wait to get the book back is as good a cover as any while I peek around. Of course, in the middle of the day, there aren’t that many folks to stare at, but it's fun to spot interesting characters, anyway. Including the one right in front of me, who is far too weary and distracted to notice my scrutiny, and who is almost as fascinating as her bosses that I also like to spy on.
It’s a wonder, the difference between the girl who sneaked out of Allan’s house to disappear on the wind and the one with me now. Aside from the obvious—one year older, longer hair, scars faded—there’s more. Something else. And it’s hard to pinpoint, exactly, which is why I’m staring, perhaps. If the Bree of one year ago was heartbroken, or maybe just plain broken, this one is whole, but still plaintive. Sad, but not miserable. Melancholy in a tired, dreamy, but generally-all-right kind of way.
I wonder what it’ll take to strip away some of the wistfulness. If it can be stripped away at all.
“Do you think…” she begins, brushing her wild hair behind her ear as she looks up from the book, but before she can continue, the door flies open, making us all jump.
“Watch it! Are you trying to break down my door?” bellows Stella, invisible but omnipresent and, apparently, omniscient, too.
“Sorry!” It’s Jamie who calls back in rapid, contrite apology.
“Oh, look. Your hired labourers have returned.” I’m already fighting back a laugh, and there are almost too many reasons why. One, Bree was so startled, she nearly dropped her bread and had to fumble for it before the whole slice fell butter-side-down on the bar. Two, Jamie’s obviously really embarrassed, turning a hilarious shade of scarlet, by the attention we’re all giving them as they traipse inside, and probably because they’ve already gotten yelled at and they’ve only been here for a few seconds. Three, Victoria’s back, and she’s blushing, too, but for a different reason, and that reason is grinning and barrelling through the door with his coat off, one sleeve rolled up, and his shirt buttons half-undone, all pink-cheeked and sweaty but showing off more skin in the midst of this dark and dreary winter than Victoria’s sweet little small-town heart can evidently handle.
“Oh, my,” she gasps, grabbing Bree by the elbow and startling her even more. “Do you see?”
“Victoria!” Bree wriggles out of her hold. “You—you can’t fall in love with all of them.” She’s suddenly got roses in her cheeks, too.
“And whyever not?”
“Because…” God, I’m so glad I didn’t go out with the others. This interaction by itself is worth missing out on whatever festive tomfoolery they got up to outside. “Because Stella will kill you.”
Victoria rolls her eyes as if she isn’t just as afraid of Stella as Bree is. “He’s half-undressed!”
Either she’s forgotten that I’m one of his party, or she simply doesn’t care that she’s ogling poor Will in front of me. Not that I care who she gawks at, of course, but someone seems to mind.
“For heaven’s sake,” Bree says, staring at the ceiling. “Go back to work and let them bring in the tree in peace.” As Victoria blatantly ignores her and fusses with some invented task behind the bar so she can keep gaping, Bree shoots a quick glance at the exposed chest in question, then directs her gaze back to A Christmas Carol.
“Will,” I say admonishingly when he approaches, grinning and still sweating, once the tree is set up in the place Stella requested and not a hairsbreadth to the right or left, “button up your shirt. You’re indecent. You’re scandalizing everyone.”
He throws me a look of confusion, probably recognizing that I’ve never given a damn about his bare chest before and not quite quick enough to discern any reason I’d be bringing it up now. “I don’t hear anyone else complaining.”
Victoria, still mysteriously present and already fluttering her eyelashes just in case Will turns toward her, shakes her head in firm agreement.
“Do it, or I’m going to tell Stella that you’re the one who slammed the door on the way in.”
His mouth drops open. “That wasn’t me! It was the damn wind.” But he obeys, because even he’s not thick-headed enough to think he could take Stella in a fight.
Victoria, as Will makes a big show of doing up every button of his shirt, gives me such a tragically sorrowful glare that I almost have to duck behind the damn tree just to hide a new eruption of laughter.
“So?” he asks Bree when he’s done being dramatic, pulling her attention that was intently fixated on the book. “How’d we do? It’s nice, right?”
He’s certainly not wrong about that: they’ve brought in a healthy, fulsome thing, with glistening green branches and fluffy-looking needles that are clearly deceptive in their appearance, if Will’s arms are any indication.
“It’s lovely—very festive and beautiful.” Bree claps the book closed and hands it back to me. “Look at you! Your arms are all scratched up. Did you wrestle it out of the ground?”
“I wasn’t the one who started it! That thing had it coming.” He grins. “Anyway, you can guess who came out on top.”
Ugh. I roll my eyes, but neither of them notices.
“You look like you’ve been through a war,” Bree says, picking a pine needle off his shoulder. Her fingers hover over the side of his head, like she’s thinking about rescuing the ones that got caught in his hair, but she pauses. Thinks better of it. Pulls away.
God, I wish Geoff were next to me. He and I could smack our heads off the bar together.
“Um…” She hurries away, snatches up a white cloth and disappears, returning moments later with the thing now damp. “Here. To clean the scratches.”
“Thanks,” Will says, raising his eyebrows at the brandy stain on her apron and taking the cloth, absently wiping at his arms. “You also look like you’ve been off to war.”
Immediately self-conscious, she brushes her hands over the offending spot, then smooths down her heat-frizzy hair. “You won’t be making fun of me when you get to reap the rewards of all the baking I’ve been doing.”
Bree and I both have to laugh at the way his eyes light up at that. “What are you baking?”
“So much fruitcake. All afternoon.” With a glance at the clock, she adds sullenly, “And I’ve probably got to go back soon. The cook’s already grumpy enough. Shouldn’t keep him waiting.”
“I’ll be around, though, if you need anything,” says Victoria sweetly.
I would give a lot to see how Bree’s going to react to that, but the inn door cracks open again, eliciting another furious shout from Stella, and in walks the other performer in the circus that’s been going on since we blew in on that snowstorm a month ago.
Under her breath, Bree mutters, “Oh, goddamnit.” Meanwhile, Victoria looks like Christmas morning has come a day and a half early.
Where the hell is Geoff? He’s the only one who appreciates the melodrama as much as me. Jamie and Allan want nothing to do with it, and Will’s centre stage in it, so for god’s sake, Geoff needs to get his ass over here, now, because a familiar face just walked in with his saucy smirk, golden hair, and long legs, and Bree’s rolling her eyes and Victoria’s blushing and Will’s turning around to see what’s eliciting these reactions and it’s all so stupid and delicious that I don’t know if I’m going to make it to Christmas morning.
When it was Verie trying to insert herself into the nonsense, it was annoying. Now that it’s Will, Bree, and the other unwitting players stumbling around like brand-new ingenues who haven’t yet learned their parts, it’s hilarious. A month, a whole month it’s been, of the two of them making excuses to talk to one another at least three times a day and usually more, so we not-oblivious folk can spectate in excruciating suspense while they invariably talk about nothing and act like they’ve forgotten their own damn names, and then pretend not to notice or care when the other gets chased after by someone else.
“I’ll go get the decorations,” Bree says quickly. “Victoria, do you want to help me carry them?”
“Of course,” her friend says airily, still bright red and starry-eyed. “You’re not really going to skip out on decorating to help that stuffy old cook the whole time, are you?”
“I am,” I hear Bree say as they disappear, “because, believe it or not, I want to get paid and I don’t want Stella to kick my…”
I open A Christmas Carol to my bookmark, trying to catch Geoff’s eye to silently communicate that he needs to get over here, because it sure seems like the Christmas pageant is about to get far more riveting.
“It’s Christmas Eve,” Will says suddenly, his back going straight. “Tomorrow’s Christmas.”
I can’t help it—at this, I stare at him like he’s grown an extra head. “Yes? Are you just realizing that now?”
“Well, no, I just—”
“Did the fact that Stella sent you out for a Christmas tree not tip you off?”
“No, I just—I kind of forgot—ah, shit.” He screws up his face. “I’m just not done, that’s all.”
Oh, Will. That brain of his is so disorganized, I honestly think he’d leave his limbs behind every time he went somewhere if they weren’t, thankfully (and somewhat miraculously), all attached to the rest of him. “Not done what?”
“Nothing.” But the tips of his ears are going red, so it’s definitely something. He turns around to peer at the door through which Bree and Victoria just vanished. I take the moment to glance at Goldilocks, who comes in here a few times a week to tease Bree and Victoria and drink with his friends. Bree usually seems to find him a mix of amusing and annoying, while Victoria switches between demure and coquettish often enough that it’s difficult to tell which one is closer to the truth.
Today, he’s looking a little more mischievous than usual. In fact, on his glance around the place—obviously looking for the other two and not finding them—he even winks at me, to which I retaliate with an unambiguously disinterested scoff. Like always, he shrugs the rejection off with a grin and takes a seat to wait for his friends.
“Him again,” says Will.
“Mmm hmm.” Every time, I wait for him to say something about the way that blond-haired Henry boy teases Bree—how he winks at her, acts terribly familiar, and openly flirts with her with shameless abandon. Every damn time, my darling little blockhead of a friend lets me down.
At least today he seems to have a reason to be so oblivious, even if I’m not sure what it is he’s “not done.”
“Okay. I’ll tell Stella and Celeste the tree’s ready for decorating.” Bree reappears, flush faded from her cheeks, with a box of paper flowers in one arm and a bowl of dried fruit slices in the other.
“Ask them if you can come help,” Victoria says with a pout. Her arms are laden, too—fresh, unblemished coloured paper, to make more flowers, I imagine, popping corn, and an assortment of dried leaves and pinecones. “I don’t want you to miss the fun. He can finish the baking by himself.”
A little hopelessly, Bree promises, “I’ll try.”
Goldilocks eyes Bree as she disappears again, her unkempt braid swinging with each step. I steal another glance at Will to see if he’s noticed, but he’s got his head turned the wrong way to see, because he’s watching Bree walk away, too.
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Shakey Sundays #10:
Living With War
(Rest assured Fair Reader, we'll get to this photo and its relationship with the album in question in good time; for now let's just wonder if Neil, on the right, is wearing blush or if he's blushing because he's just been seen associating with Stephen the Hutt, on the left. Again, we'll get there in good time! Now, on with the post...)
The teenagers I teach, who are all pretty awesome, arrive knowing almost nothing about modern events. Wait, they say, there was a war in Iraq? Are we talking about, like, recently? Were we alive? Wow. Dude, what'd you say? There were like two wars in Iraq? Were we in them? Iraq's a country, right? Who won?
Well, kids, no one won. But hundreds of thousands of people lost their lives. And millions are still suffering from the effects of the conflicts. And Iraq is, like totally, a country.
The teens come alive when you start to get into the details; I'm proud to stay pretty damn nonpartisan in the classroom but there's no way to teach these events without telling students the truth: the Bush administration lied. And I don't mean once. They lied over and over again for years. WMDs; links between Iraq and 9/11; government directed torture; death counts. And our country went along for the ride; we were so shell shocked by 9/11 that we, like totally, like literally, believed Iraq=Muslim + Saddam=Bad Guy therefore, War=Now.
Well not all of us bought it. I'm a very proud American and I did my patriotic duty by angrily protesting the Second Gulf War. I'm guessing many of you did too.
And when Neil Young woke up after years of shaggy dog Greendale story telling and Prairie Wind flatulence to rage against his adopted country's moral corruption, I felt relieved, proud and in sync with his anger.
Indeed, I'd argue that Living With War is a pretty cool chapter in Young's story. Not only was he right when he called us all out for being lazy and dumb, he also rehired his kick in the ass band from Eldorado and recorded everything with Ohio-level pace and boldness, writing and recording the album in less than two weeks and getting it out and into our ears within a month.
And just listen to the opening track! Young finds his riff on Old Black, nods at his six-cups-of-coffee drummer and then sounds immediately and deeply alive, shaking himself and all of us out of our Bush beer garden of complacency.
youtube
Cool, huh? It's almost 20 years later and George W. Bush's brand of homespun, ignorant evil appears quaint in comparison to the nonstop barrage of totalitarian terror being spouted on the campaign trail in and in the courts (seriously, if frozen embryos are now human beings why aren't refugees being welcomed with open arms and being offered all the jobs Americans like you and me rely on but refuse to do ourselves?) but I still feel pumped up when I listen to this song.
So why isn't the record a bigger deal? Why doesn't it shoulder its way into our thinking not just about Young but about that whole embarrassing era in our history? I'm afraid there are a few pretty good reasons why.
For one thing a lot of the writing sucks. In the earnest and almost soulful Roger and Out Young rhymes no words in the first verse, then decides to go big and connect "way" with "today" in the second verse, then shrugs and sets "today" alongside "yesterday" after that. This is coming from the guy who once wrote "roads stretch out like healthy veins, and wild gift horses strain the reigns." Come on Neil, confer with a dictionary.
One spot where the lyrics come alive in the upsetting and enjoyably silly The Restless Consumer. Check this frantic song out:
youtube
You can hear in the song that Young assembled a 100 person choir for this record and spent one 12 hour day teaching them to sing along with his best crazy grandpa voice on lines like:
Don't need no TV ad
Telling me how sick I am
Don't need to know how many people are like me
Don't need no dizziness
Don't need no nausea
Don't need no side effects like diarrhea or sexual death
Roger that, Neil. When I see you live in April with the Horse (yes, I've got tickets, gods be praised) I promise I won't scream out from my cheap seats in the back about any of these topics you mention. But I will scream. Lots.
Another shortcoming on the record is Neil's unwillingness, or inability at that moment, to destroy and thereby uplift the songs with his own lead guitar.
Stroll through his wacky eclectic career and there are nearly no constants: one moment he's making violent computerized pop, the next he's impersonating Willie Nelson. By 2006 he had 40 years of proudly obstinate inconsistency under his belt. But Neil, at least when making band-oriented music, had - almost - always used a rhythm guitar player.
First there was Richie Furray and He Who Shall Not Be Named because he sucks.
(But that guitarist does appear, as we noted at the top, in today's opening photo from the Living with War era. You see, that's not Pizza the Hut standing with Neil in the image; it's You Know Who, or maybe we should call him You No Poo; Neil had a tour planned with Crosby, Satan and Nash long before he wrote and rushed out Living With War; then he foisted the record on them for their summer tour together; Stills was unimpressed by it all and complained a lot, probably because he'd voted for Bush in the first place and knew that the only people who still bought his records were dumb asses who'd followed his lead in the voting booth.)
Then along came Danny, Nils, Ben, and Poncho (and even Steve Cropper and the kids in Pearl Jam and Promise of the Reeled in Flounder). Occasionally, such as on Comes a Time and Old Ways, Neil used not one rhythm guitarist, but instead about 16 of them. He idolizes Hendrix but rarely tries to be him.
Living With War is, like the killer Eldorado, the snoozy Greendale and the confounding Le Noise that would soon follow, one of Neil's rare solo guitar attack moments. And, on this occasion anyway, it's a mistake.
Neil heard the album's basic tracks after his rushed and passionate recording session (he'd later release those first takes on their own as Living With War - In the Beginning) and knew there simply wasn't quite enough music to go around. He'd been too busy teaching the songs to the drummer, bass player and himself to remember to shred.
He could have summoned Poncho and given the whole project another week. He should have. Instead, he got all Bernard Shakey on us and brought in not just the 100 piece choir, who must have spent their 12 hour session alternatively inspired, snickering and baffled, but also a trumpeter. And we're not talking about Miles Davis and Don Cherry here.
Instead, it sounds like Neil stopped by the local high school, plucked the third chair from the marching band, then played slow enough to let him try, and fail, to keep up. Take a listen.
youtube
Even the choir and drunk trumpet weren't enough to entirely salvage such songs. You'll hear in the video above that Neil also brings back Re-ac-tor era space warfare sound effects and mixes in sound-clips of the Dubbya himself. This whole song and, for that matter, the whole album, is silly, inspired, simplistic, drunk and awesome all at once.
Sound like all the ingredients we need for another Shakey Sunday.
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The History of Ruin's Heir
What's "Ruin's Heir"?
Ruin's Heir is a fantasy comic, published at ComicFury by me.
After the gateway to the realm of death has been shattered, the balance of the world has been disturbed, slowly being eaten away by the deadly matter know as "the ruin".
Vervain, a young wolf, finds that he has a deep connection to the Grimgrove and its ruin.
In order to prevent the inevitable, he must find his True Name.
First page was published 9th April 2023, but the history of this story goes way back to the year 2011. I have now written some of it down, mostly for myself, but if you have found yourself curious and want to give it a read, I welcome you with warmth.
Nemorosa and Vervain
2011 - Parantajan oppipoika
The beginning
At this point in my life I had spent about three years watching YouTube animated series about dogs.
I also did create my own series, several, even before this one, but never published those anywhere, and sadly I do not have them anymore. 2010 December I got my very first own computer, and I got absolutely hog-wild with the new-found freedom of interwebs.
At the age of 12, I finally created my very own YouTube account.
I of course had to create my very own dog (or in this case, wolf) series. I pulled out my trusty MsPaint, and started to work without too much thought about the plot, or anything.
Just wanted to do something, probably came up with the designs at the spur of the moment too.
Juniper and Vervain
The series was called Parantajan oppipoika, until I changed the name to Apprentice, thinking that... English is cool? I don't think though that I ever succesfully released an episode with the new name, so Apprentice didn't really stick. So Parantajan oppipoika it is.
The series had 2 finished apisode, third one was left unfinished.
Which sounds kinda underwhelming. But despite its short visit at the time, Parantajan oppipoika would leave a mark in my heart that was waiting for its next opportunity to shine.
Story
Vervain, young member of the wolf pack, dreams nothing more than being a healer's apprentice. When the day comes that the pack's healer, Clover, chooses her apperentice, Vervain is very excited and hopeful about the end result.
But he is left dissapointed, when instead of him, his friend Dandelion is chosen.
Some days after the ceremony, Vervain notices that Dandelion seems very tired and absent, barely responding when he asks her anything. Without his knowledge, Dandelion has been suffering from the nightmarish visions she started to get after she was appointed as a healer's apprentice.
Next evening, Vervain follows a raven, who guides him to find Dandelion at the forest, killed by a bear. Clover blaming herself, believes this was a sign that her decision was a mistake, and appoints Vervain as her new apprentice.
Poor Dandelion...
Inspirations
At the time, I have just got into Warrior Cats, and it was also very clear with Parantajan oppipoika.
Pack's structure, nature themed names, and concept of the healer all came from there. I also remember that Vervain's name was taken straight from Watership Down, from the character with the same name.
Videos etc.
Not much material is left from this time, which is a big shame for me personally, as I would love to see the first 2 episodes again.
Though, some materials are still intact, and I'll cherish them.
The first opening of Parantajan oppipoika.
youtube
To this very day I still associate this song to Ruin's Heir. Kinda hoping that someday I could animate something to it...
Unfinished "new" opening
youtube
I remember being very, very proud of this one. And honestly, good for you, 12-13 years old Iro, you indeed did good. I think the development between these two openings are visible already.
Unfinished episode 3
(with a placeholder music, I think the original had The Lion King music), pretty short, but oh... the relic....
I think this is all I have to say about the first version of this story, for now.
Hassireeee, Veervain
2013 - Hour of the Wolf
The resurrection
Parantajan oppipoika went to the slumber for time being, and I didn't finish episode 3. If I remember right, I didn't do much with these characters after cancelling the series.
But, in 2013 they returned. I started to work on the reboot, called "Hour of the Wolf"
I literally forgot it was called that. Anyways.
I must admit that I don't remember much specifics from this era, I found an outline for the planned episodes so nevermind about not remembering.
Once again, I was planning on making an animated series, but this time with less success than before. Not a single episode were finished.
But looking at the outline, there was a plan for 16 episodes in total.
Some aspects from 2011 version were kept, but some were also dropped. Vervain didn't want to be a healer anymore, and whole concept of healers seemed to be absent from this version in general. Instead story now focused more on the relationship between Vervain ja Raven, and also war that our main pack, Tyrmäinen, was having with "Bonefangs" pack.
Even though a lot has changed since this version of the story, it did an important groundwork for its future. A lot characters that exits nowadays, were created back then. Even some plot points, though with drastic changes, have stayed in some form.
Sedum and Bracken
Goldenrod, Bracken, Nuphar (down), Sedum, Woundwort, and Majalis
Characters
Sedum and Bracken were old faces from the 2011, but most of the pack's youngsters were created 2013.
Nuphar, Pillwort, and Majalis are still part of the cast today. Twins Woundwort and Golderod were part of the story for a long time before being cut 2022.
Vervain and Raven
Vervain bond with ravens was now strengthened. Especially with this one raven, who was also his father's old Guardian, and only thing that the villain, Elder, was truly afraid of.
Raven's characterization, and purpose for the story has changed several times after this, but presence of the Raven has been kept strong ever since.
Story
After the death of Dandelion, Vervain finds an injured wolf named Juniper. She is taken in, and she warns the pack about approaching rival pack, Bonefangs, who she also was part of formerly.
After the presence of bonefangs has been made known, security measures are tightened, and atmosphere in the pack gets heavy.
At the same time, Vervain meets Raven, who seems to be his, and unknowingly to him, his deceased father's Guardian.
War between the two wolf packs goes on, until tragedy strikes the pack, and it's rumored that among them there's a traitor…
Elder, Vervain, and Raven
As I'm reading this outline now, I'm thinking "damn, I really did read Harry Potter back then didn't I?"
Some of the plotlines were almost straight from there...
Videos
Unfinished opening
youtube
Unfinished episode (I think)
youtube
Didn't get far, but cool.
2015 - Kaarnen Herra
The new era
I still quite like this name I had. It's translated "Lord of the Raven", and I pretty much got it from Lord of the Rings. Good naming technique I would say.
Apparently I started to do reboots every two years.
Once again, I wanted to make a youtube animated series. Because I never learn.
Though this time I learned a little bit, and opted out from making a fully animated series, and instead used minimal amount of pictures. Episode 1 was still left unfinished, because the workload still didn't fit me.
Nemorosa and Vervain
This is probably when this story started to have more online presence. I'm still surprised when people leave a comment somewhere and actually know Vervain's name off the bat.
Even thought this is probably the point where magic wolves' hold over my brain capacity got stronger than ever before, it's also the era where I feel I made my biggest mistake and regret with this story. It was when I put feathers on their heads, unknowingly enforcing racist stereotypes about native people.
I always struggled to find justification lore-wise for why they even had those, so when I finally realized and decided that this whole thing actually comes from a very harmful place, and should be removed, I myself felt very relieved.
This is the time in my life I did a lot drawings and videos about Kaarnen Herra, but I can't say that I would feel comfortable sharing all of it so freely nowadays.
Story
Life at Tyrmänkä's pack has been ever so peaceful, until a weird strom rises. Vervain notices that this has made his friend Dandelion restless, and when he sees that she has went to the forest alone, he follows.
Vervain stumbles on to the scene, when Dandelion is trying to bind down an angered spirit, costing her life. Spell however has got its hold on Vervain too, and slowly it rips more and more away his life.
One way to save his own life would be to void the spell and release the spirit, but that would possibly cost his pack's life if done so. Luckily, helpful Raven and a stoat named Portimo wants to help him to find another way to save himself...
Vervain and Bracken
Characters
This version brought many new characters, but for this I wanted to showcase these two selectet characters, which I feel have been more influential. Portimo and Tormentil.
Tormentil and Portimo
Portimo
At first there was supposed to be three stoats, capable of merging into one big stoat monster, but at some point, three turned into just one character. (Stoat monster was however apparently kept at least some time after this, for some reason.)
I can't remember where the idea of having a villanous small stoat came from, but I thank the past me of this. Nowadays it's hard to think of this story without Portimo.
Portimo changed a lot tings about the plot, and was even some sort of main villain of the series. Kuilunka, formerly Bonefangs, then became more sympathetic, although still antagonistics.
His name by the way is just a old finnish name for stoats. So his name is just Stoat 👍
Tormentil
Tormentil is a mix of old and new, as her intial inspiration came way back from 2011, from Parantajan oppipoika.
Back then Elder (who was named Vomitflower back then.... I have found no proof that such flower exists, but it might be inspired by the plant called ipecacuanha).
Anyways, Elder/Vomitflower had a sidekick, whose trope was "even more sadistic than the boss". Back then her name was Cactus-spike.
Cactus-spike got a massive overhaul designwise, and a new name, since I didn't want these wolves to know what cacti are. She pretty much became a new character, but fullfilling the same initial role as previously.
Her role also grew a lot from what I originally planned, mostly because I got a such positive feedback from her, and I wanted to utilize her potential more.
Videos
Opening
youtube
Unfinished episode 1
youtube
2019 - Goodbye animation
Finally I came to the conclusion that I can't work on this story in form of animation, and instead decided to try dip myself back into the wolrd of comics.
And by back I mean that I used to do a lot comics when I was 7-12 years old, but stopped working on those after getting more into doing animations instead.
There were actually two tries, before I started to publish pages publicly. First one I treated more like a test from the beginning, to see how it feels to work on the comic.
Page 1. Ohto
Page 2. Nemorosa and Vervain
End result was: It felt pretty nice. My confidence towards this new approach grew, and decided that this would be something I wanted to try in the long run.
I stopped this first run after 12 pages, reworked some aspects of the story, and started to work on the real deal.
But I clearly still had some things to learn....
2020 - Setback
The plot got very big changes, with the threat of the apocalypse looming over the characters now. As I wanted to strengthen to conflict within the world, and make it affect the characters.
With these new additions, some new characters were also brought in (or old ones totally reworked).
Everhalo and Ruinkeeper
New characters
Raven's character got a total overhaul. Now instead of being Vervain's companion, she became the Spirit of death, and was named Ruinkeeper.
This change also later contributed to why story's name was renamed Ruin's Heir (or the finnish name, Kalman lapsi). As I felt that no one would feel any lordiness over this Raven anymore, so I felt that it didn't fit anymore.
With the Spirit of death, there was also added Spirit of life, Everhalo. Who seems to have his own agenda in the grand scheme of things.
_
I worked on the first chapter, year had passed already and the chapter was close to the finish line.
I had done 34 pages, but finishing the last 7 pages felt too much.
Tormentil, Elder, and Ruinkeeper
I believe that I did a mistake in complicating the backgrounds for the actual comic. Instead of doing a lined work like I did back in my first version, I tried to give it more painted look. So now it didn't feel so good to do anymore, and I felt like I had to do something differend...
So I did what you're always told to not to do when working on comics, and started over.
2022- Ruin's Heir
This is the version I finally started to publish to ComicFury.
The scene did had some chages, but the basic idea was kept same. Tormentil needs to kill Ruinkeeper.
Some pages were reused, and the color palette kept same.
Tormentil, Elder, and Ruinkeeper
I do count this and the previous version of chapter 1 in the same era, as the actual story has no big changes made between these.
Two characters had redesigns though, Elder and Vervain
Elder (old and new)
Vervain
Changing Vervain's design especially felt like I was about to do a crime. But just how with the name change, I just felt that his older design didn't work with his character anymore. Even though I had grown very attached to it.
Luckily, I can say that I'm now quite happy with his design.
The End
At this very moment I'm writing this paragraph, I'm working on the chapter two, with the last six pages work in progress. So far my feelings toward making this comic has been very positive, and it's one of the rays of joy that I have at the moment.
I admit it's one my fears that what if someday I'm not able to work on it anymore? But I guess it's no use to worry too much about the future, while still having this very moment at the hand.
Will I change my mind about this comic in two years? Could be plausible, when looking at my past set records of reboot after reboots.
But it's okay, and I'm trying to follow my principle, which pretty much is "follow your heart, it's yours after all".
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Night 1
A cannon rings out, and Henry is instantly on his feet. Could that be Jackie?? No… He’s a hardy bastard. But he isn’t, anymore. But no. Only 2 people have died so far—Well, 3, now. What are the chances.
But where is Jackie?? Jackie got a bit surprised by nightfall. He really wanted to bring home food, but for that he had to find a weapon, or make one, and for that he needed to find the right materials OR chance the cornucopia… But who knows who might be staking out there. Not without fortitude and potence. So he stays out, no satisfying results, and when night falls he is So far away from the shack. He longs for his phone, to text Henry he’s alright… But no time. He instead stumbles upon Cecil and Alessio, already resting. They spend some time catching up, speculating. Alessio reports on how Kitty chose violence and chased him for several…. What, hours? Minutes? What makes sense here. True Persistence Hunter vibes. They joke about what type of hunter she would be. Cecil talks about his concerns, what with being a literal 12-year-old boy again and all. This isn’t supposed to be the real hunger games. Leo decided to chance it and build his own hut, perhaps hoping that people just wouldn’t kill him, but that felt unsafe to Cecil.. They briefly drift off into the discussion of How Young Everyone on dash Died, and that it’s kind of a tragedy. Alessio questions his morals a little bit.
They reach for their weapons when they hear distant cursing. Cursing up a storm. Then, Sorcha comes stumbling out of the bush, looking wild. And mildly injured. She talks about the cornucopia, and trying to get resources, ”But tae bitch had tae fight me over it!!!” Or something. I imagine. She rants on until she actually realises who she’s looking at, but by that time the others are sure she won’t attack. They truce and settle down instead. And they tell ghost stories! Alessio’s are a bit r/suspiciouslyspecific, but we’re not gonna look into that.
So then who was the cannon shot?? Well. Attacking a cave is indeed difficult. Mary had chosen a smart approach, climbing up the mountain first and coming down the side, looping around….. She couldn’t have known Wick had made it up there before her. She creeps closer to the cave, quietly enough. I am still human enough, but with 2 injured party members, I’ve been keeping watch for… Too long. I’ve grown drowsy. So she would have succeeded, if it weren’t for that meddling Wick! They use their high ground to jump her, before she can jump me, and clobber her to death. The cannon rings out. Wick and Honey have a heartfelt hug and reunion, and we decide to stick together for the time being.
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And now for something completely different!
Just a nice little rant about misogyny in television production, and the reckoning it will (hopefully) continue to face due to the rise of social media.
Have any of you been watching the behind-the-scenes drama around “Law and Order: SVU” unfold?
Within the last 48 hours, between rumors, social media posts, and DMs we’ve learned:
Rumor: Kelli Giddish (KG) who has been on SVU for 12 years might be leaving the show
Confirmed: KG posted a heartfelt yet vague confirmation that she has seen the rumors and this is indeed her last season
Comments: Response to her post is wild because, in case you didn’t know, people love SVU. America’s longest-running television something.
Attack: People start blaming the new Showrunner, who is starting this season
Response: The Showrunner actually engages with commenters, says they don’t know the whole story…
Huh?
DMs: People who know people who work on the show start sliding into people’s DMs, stating that KG was fired, supposedly because of salary negotiations, but primarily because she was too old
Validation: Industry pubs, like Variety, pick up the story, including the factoid that Mariska Hargitay (aka Olivia Benson, 22 year SVU veteran and a producer on the show) were opposed to the firing
Realization: The Internet collectively realizes that Dick Wolf (creator) is likely to blame, due to his poor treatment of past actors, including Sophia Bush being forced out of the Chicago franchise, a willingness to continue to work with actors accused of sexual assault, the letting go of POC, etc.
The Limited Response: Mariska Hargitay posts an old photo of herself and KG to her Instagram stories with zero context
The Reckoning? There seems to be a push right now to hold Dick Wolf responsible. It will be interesting to see what happens there.
After all, he’s been bullying Mariska Hargitay for decades, and she’s desensitized enough to think it’s a funny story…
#this is not foster care#seriously this is totally off topic#svu#law and order svu#kelli giddish#kelli giddish fired#kelli giddish firing
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With regards to the Big Chimkens, do the people in the world still consume their eggs and/or meat or is that not an option for one reason or another?
In the real world, wild junglefowl will lay around 10 eggs in an entire year, and go very long periods of time without laying any eggs at all. They only tend to lay eggs during dry periods of the year, at which point they will lay a cluster of eggs over the span of a few days.
As such, giant fowl are much the same and will only lay a small clutch or two in the spring and summer months, and I would wager that for their domesticated counterparts many breeds have been bred such that they are even less frequent layers, perhaps every few years as egg laying is a very taxing process on a hen! Not to mention having to deal with a giant, broody hen...
I can only imagine it being an inconvenience for everyone involved when not specifically related to their continued existence. The less often your chicken lays eggs the less likely she is to get eggbound, afterall, so only laying a few eggs once every few years is a more desireable trait, I feel.
As well as this, their eggs would be around the size of an ostrich's... and it takes 2 hours to hardboil an ostrich egg! An ostrich egg is equivalent to 14 regular chicken eggs, I would say that these giant eggs are equivalent to 16? (though bantams would lay eggs closer in size to emus, so around 12 regular eggs).
So while I could see them being useful in say industrial kitchens making large amounts of food, that's just so very much egg and they're not exactly easy to cook like that. I would imagine they're used moreso for things like fertilizer, as both the shells and yolks are great plant food.
As for eating the chickens themselves...! Well, sure, pretty much every animal we have domesticated is also one that we eat. There are indeed some breeds that were bred for their meat rather than to be working animals. Culturally, there may be some places that are unwilling to eat them as they are pets for most people, and in some cultures in our own world it's perfectly fine to eat things like horses and dogs and in others it's seen as morally incorrect, so that would apply here too. But in a general sense, yes they're sometimes eaten.
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Evil West is supplying enough blood to satisfy the bloodthirsty vampires
Evil West is a popular vampire hunter video game fixed in the Wild West environment. There aren't just vampires; there are all kinds of monsters, such as werewolves, zombies, and even dragon-like beings. The type of this game seems very retro since it's very linear, and it is amazingly similar in how you traverse the map. However, if it is done correctly, the linear game can turn out to be amazing in general, but not all games have to end up being open-world.
Story
People are Jesse Rentier and the Rentier Institute, a corporation run by the group to defend against monsters all over the world. While vampires and other creatures see humans as food, people tend to fight back, inventing intriguing weapons to defend themselves and keep creatures at bay. However, the vampires and other creatures are generally alive, which means that the humans are beginning to gain an advantage through the ongoing combat among them and are generally bringing the attack, delivering a significant number of problems at Jesse's door. There's something from every genre and a ton of amazing New PS4 games to enjoy.
Combat
Let's begin with combat. This begins by explaining melee, which is important inJesse has a Tesla-style gauntlet that may be faced with energy. It has a plethora of moves, including a Scorpion-inspired pull, and may blow up bad guys with certain combinations. It's extremely satisfying. I would like to see more combos, though. This type of thing stopped happening after I unlocked all of them in the skill tree. I discovered a few great combinations that helped me get through the majority of the games.
Jesse is also a collector of guns. By default, the six-shooter game is very oriented toward the trigger. This fires a single shot, or you will be able to also fan the hammer with a hold down. The rifle can be fired with the left trigger and offers respawning ammunition that has typically advanced over the years. In the end, you'll also have an assault rifle that operates when it cools down and can blow up adversaries instantly. All of them feel good, but they don't add to the depth of the overall combat. It all looks fast and visceral, much like Flying Wild Hog's different titles. Hurry up, cheap PS4 racing games are on the market.
There is an experienced tree that grants Jesse new performance and improvements to established arms. The level system is frequently slow. This is ideal for obtaining a lot more items regularly. Players can also earn gold in amounts that could be utilized to buy, well, unusual improvements. It's a strange strategy that appears to have been combined into one large upgrade set using one money, but hey, at least you can find something to discover. Also, some reports and bestiaries expand the world. Indeed, it's a neat setting, but I haven't felt like I wanted to know more.
Quests
You'll find 16 quests that vary in duration and intensity and can be played in 12–15 hours (in my opinion). The story wasn't the most compelling I've played with, but it did keep me interested for the duration of the time I played. The narrative and framework ended up being presented through cinematics, and while this was an excellent option, I found the transition between guns blazing and story cutscenes to be a little bumpy in certain cases. There were also some areas where you could wander and learn more about information and lore in between assignments. Truthfully, Evil West was about the fight, and that was sufficient for me. I had very few technical issues; I also suspect there were two or three instances where the game froze and I had to restart.
Visuals
The first thing to detect about this game title would be the fact that it is visually impressive. It is a blend of designs that makes it a pretty scene to take in. The over-the-shoulder perspective makes you feel like you're playing Gears of War, and the clothing and voice acting are reminiscent of Red Dead Redemption. Red Dead Redemption games along with those styles is a bit of steampunk, which is accompanied by many electrical gears and mechanical components through the arms, such as your gauntlet.
Conclusion
Evil West seems like an original take on the traditional "Old West" settings we've seen, supplying a worthwhile fighting method as well as enough blood to satisfy the bloodthirsty vampires. The dark narrative and enjoyable characters are both captivating; however, some questionable design choices hinder the experience in locations. There's no doubt, however, that the Evil West should always be played by anyone who has a passion for Occidentals, the Western setting, and the occult themes. In great cowboy fashion, this story is rich in sadness, problems, action, and determination to overcome obstacles, and it makes an excellent occupation out of it!
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Vortex Chapter 3/12
Concussion, he immediately thought. Not the first time he had one of those, and it sometimes took a few minutes for his mind to clear. Nothing to worry about.
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Din loses some of his memories. How will he decide to get them back? And should he get them back? Thankfully, he has friends to help him figure it out. Amnesia/Memory loss fic.
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Chapters: 1-2-3-4-5-6-7-8-9-10-11-12
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Read below or on ao3.
The roaring beast sounded very real and very close. So did the pressure on his chest as fearsome looking claws gripped him tight. Sharp teeth. Pounding heart. Throbbing head. A rancor, he thought numbly, as if it was going to make any difference. Who cared what kind of creature it was – he was about to be eaten alive. Familiar twin suns flashed bright on his armor for a second before he was suddenly tossed aside. His back connected with a crumbling wall and then sand. The impact knocked him out almost completely. Was this any better than being chomped to bits? Before losing consciousness for good, he thought he saw something in the distance.
Grogu. Approaching the beast.
No!
He tried to sit up, the movement painful, but he had to stop him before he got too close.
“Dada!”
Din opened his eyes.
He was lying down on a bunk, the child siting on his chest. No sand, no Tatooine, and thankfully no rancor.
“Hey,” he mumbled, having a hard time letting go of the dream. Reality crept back in slowly – the concussion, the memory loss, Ahsoka, the kid. But sadly not much else. He hugged Grogu loosely in his sleepy arms – the memory of their reunion still eluded him. As did the last two years apart from disconnected images and feelings he couldn’t be sure were part of his actual past.
“Wanna go find some food?” he asked the boy, who nodded sluggishly. It seemed like Din wasn’t the only one having a hard time waking up.
Din hesitated putting his helmet back on, but in the end decided against it when Grogu settled against his left side, gripping his armor tightly – there was no ungluing him for a while, he could tell, and he had to relinquish the use of one of his arms to hold him. Small price to pay, he acknowledged, when his last image of him were tearful goodbyes. Would he ever get his memories back? Would his head ever stop hurting? But more importantly, would he ever feel safe again in the knowledge that he had his child back for good?
“How’s that concussion?” inquired Ahsoka once they’d reached the cockpit, armed with a snack. Chewing was somewhat painful still, so Din took his time to answer, and evaded her question.
“Can’t remember anything new,” he shrugged.
“Oh, you mean a two hour nap didn’t fix everything?”
Din ignored her sarcasm and refocused on his drink instead – it was proving challenging enough since he wasn’t using a straw for once, and he didn’t particularly want to make a fool of himself and drip iced caf all over his lap. Grogu chirped happily and proceeded to eat a second cookie, still attached to his left side.
“I did have a strange dream, though,” he admitted, wondering why he felt comfortable sharing that when he had no memory of much of a relationship with her.
“Strange how?”
“Grogu and I were getting attacked by a wild rancor on Tatooine,” he replied, eschewing the fact that he’d been the one actually attacked while the boy seemed to be holding his own. “I was certain it was going to eat me, it felt very real.”
“That’s a very strange dream indeed,” Ahsoka replied, sounding the opposite of surprised. Din frowned, looking at her face, but she wasn’t giving anything away. Clearly she was well versed in the art of not revealing anything crucial. Which reminded him that she was hiding something from him. Something far more important than this. He decided to let it go for now and focus on the next few hours instead.
“Tell me about where we’re going and what Bo-Katan’s been up to for the last two years,” he asked, steeling himself for the onslaught of new information that would surely make his sore head even more so.
Din learned that their Mandalorian base was a Galactic Republic era Haven-class medical station. The security had been buffed up, and for now it had remained undetected by either Imperial remnants or the New Republic. Its primary function in the past had been to provide medical care for upwards of 80,000 wounded soldiers (clone troopers, mostly), but it now worked as their main hub and docking station, where they could store weapons, ships and assemble warriors to plan for their attacks.
“How many?” Din inquired, amazed that Mandalorian troops had apparently joined Kryze’s fight.
“Around five thousands is the last I heard, but many are still lacking full armors and enough training.”
He took a moment to let that number sink in – 5,000 people of his own kind? That was unheard of. He felt very tempted to ask Ahsoka if his own tribe was part of that number, but he guessed he’d find that out soon enough.
“Bo will have a hard time believing you’re fine, so it might be better for you to come clean with her, but it’s your decision.”
Din had decided to play it by ear for the time being – his best plans were always the ones made on the spot. So he vaguely nodded and let her continue talking about the current state of Mandalore – still heavily guarded due to the presence of Beskar – and her own role in the matter – investigating Jedi presence in the Unknown Regions.
“So what have we been doing together?” he wondered, then immediately wished he’d voiced his question better when she smirked and shook her head in clear merriment as he attempted to rephrase it. “I mean, what have we been investigating exactly, does it have anything to do with Mandalore?”
“Yes and no,” she replied cryptically. “It might be better if Sabine explains it directly, but be aware that she could be a little on the aggressive side when she realizes we still haven’t found anything.”
“Sabine was the one on the holocall with Kryze?” he made sure, and she nodded.
“You don’t remember her at all?”
“Nothing,” he sighed. “Some images are coming back to me – I think so at least. But she’s not part of them.”
“What images?” she asked, sounding more guarded this time, which warned Din to be careful with his answer again. Sensing his unease, Grogu held onto his side a little tighter and emitted a quiet coo.
“Nothing that makes any sense,” he replied, stroking the boy’s back reassuringly. Nothing that made any sense yet. He didn’t feel comfortable sharing his doubts despite their obvious closeness. Telling her about his terror anytime his hand brushed the handle of the Darksaber. Or the infinite sadness that overcame him when he thought too hard about losing Grogu. And he didn’t believe it would be a good idea either to delve into the state of their relationship for the time being. Simply because he wouldn’t know what to do with such an information if it turned out that he and Ahsoka were more than close acquaintances. She hadn’t made any direct remark on the subject, so he’d leave it alone.
They were quiet for the rest of the journey, Din enjoying simply being around Grogu again, letting him rest some more and babble words that were starting to make sense. His mind kept coming back to his dream though, and he started wondering if maybe it hadn’t been a dream at all but his subconscious trying to fill in the gaps. Again, he almost asked Ahsoka, but stopped himself. His instincts told him that he could trust her, but there were some things he wanted to keep to himself.
He grew slightly nervous when they docked at the medical station but felt better as soon as he placed his helmet back on his head as they were about to exit the ship. Grogu sat atop his shoulders, pleased with his high vantage point and Din allowed himself one last deep exhale. He could do this. He could pretend everything was as it should be.
The sheer number of people they came across – many not wearing armor or even a helmet but ostensibly Mandalorians in the way they saluted them – proved to be the hardest thing to come to grips with, and Din had to quickly stop himself from reacting too strongly. After the fourth or fifth ‘Oya Mand’alor!’ he decided to cease paying too much attention to the meaning behind the words and simply nod. Thankfully, Grogu proved regal enough for the both of them, waving proudly to anyone who looked up at him.
Through discreet gestures and quiet words, Ahsoka let him know she would go check on Kryze first and that he could join them at the command post later, once he had made a stop at his cabin to drop his belongings – the kid’s belongings, really, since the little one seemed to travel with enough toys to stay busy for weeks on end.
Grogu pulled on his cape once they got closer to the door Ahsoka had directed them to, and it took Din a few seconds to understand that he wanted to be the one who pressed his small hand on the scanner to open it.
“Ah!” he exclaimed happily when it worked, clearly used to the process but still finding amusement in it. He jumped from his arms once they were inside, and went straight to a small nook in a corner, which had a tiny desk and chair. He proceeded to get two things from his pocket – rocks, Din realized. Which he then levitated to a shelf over the table so that they found a spot next to others. There were dozens, all of different shapes and colors.
“Is that from all the places we visited?” he wondered out loud, a small smile playing on his lips.
“Yeep,” Grogu nodded, ostensibly pleased with his collection and unconcerned by his question despite its strangeness.
Din turned around and started looking at the rest of their cabin a little more closely. It was large, at least two or three times the size of a regular one, with a small kitchen, separate room for a refresher and a decent sized bed in the opposite corner. Grogu’s own bedding was next to his desk, the nook giving it a secluded, warm feel, especially when he realized that you could see through the one viewport from it – a rare treat in a cabin, even on a base. Din guessed they’d been given one of the better ones.
There were a lot of shelves and bookcases on the walls, displaying knickknacks: actual books, more objects collected on their travels, drawings, toys and various disassembled weapons and engine parts. Din sat down at the kitchen counter, which had two seats, one with extra cushions for the kid. This was a lot to take in again – they had obviously been spending a lot of time here together as a family, and grown comfortable.
Lost in thought, he didn’t notice Grogu waddling in his direction, a small book in his hands, which he handed to him with a very firm ‘Read, dada’.
“Alright,” Din replied, too stunned to think of a different answer.
He followed the boy to his bed, and removed his gloves, helmet and part of his armor when he tapped them insistently, wanting to get comfortable against his chest. Feeling the old fashioned book cover against his fingertips, he had a quick flash of recollection. This story was about three little banthas, he just knew it, even before he’d reached the first page.
Ahsoka found them in the same spot an hour later, after Din had gone through several more stories – this seemed to be a ritual for the kid every time they returned from travelling, and Din felt comfort and contentment while going through it, the little one oohing and aahing at regular intervals. This felt so familiar and so sacred at the same time that he hadn’t realized how much time had already gone by since their arrival on the base, or that Ahsoka had probably been wondering where he was. He also decided not to pay too much attention to the fact that she had been granted entry to his cabin no problem.
“Bo’s waiting for your report,” she exclaimed simply, her eyes lingering on a spot near his bed, where several crates were piled – he’d assumed they held weapons, but he now wondered if anything else was inside them.
“Fine,” he sighed, standing up, the boy still in his arms. “What’s the news? Anything I should be aware of?”
“Her and Sabine are expecting you at the forge.”
“The forge?” he repeated numbly.
“Sabine’s been the one taking on armorer duties for all of you, although Beskar has proven hard to come by. She’s also been working on several detonator and explosive prototypes, which have been more successful and helped you come on top on several risky operations.”
Din felt for the chainmail on Grogu’s back again, and remembered how he’d wondered earlier if maybe it had been forged by his own tribe’s armorer. Had it been this Sabine Wren instead? That possibility made him sad. But also apprehensive. Had he really not been able to find them in two years? It seemed unlikely, since he knew it would have become his priority once he’d parted from the boy. And this told him that his sense of foreboding had been warranted.
“They’re not here, aren’t they? My tribe?” he asked rhetorically. Deep down, he already knew. Had known from the minute he woke up. Something had happened. Something his subconscious had been trying to hide from him. Something Ahsoka definitely didn’t want to talk about either, as her startingly blue eyes made clear, full of concern and trepidation.
Grogu’s claws dug deeper against his left side, sharp and pointy and very real, anchoring him to the present. He emitted a small wail as Ahsoka shook her head.
“I’m sorry, Din. They’re all gone.”
#the mandalorian#din djarin#grogu#ahsoka tano#clan of two#baby yoda#amnesia#memory loss#star wars#vortex#my fics
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Saturday 19 May 1838
8 ½
12 ¾
finish but rather dullish morning F52 ¾° at 8 ¾ - cleaning my houillère shoes and gaiters above ½ hour – so ill done at Liège, not fit to put on – my shoes left a black mark whenever I trod – breakfast at 10 and had the washerwoman till 11 ½ - turned out all the linen and wrote down before her on the bills all her prices – exactly the reasonable prices I used to pay my St. Cloud washerwoman in Paris – this washerwoman the most reasonable – if not the only reasonable person we have met with so far – Had engaged a commissionaire (valet de place – only lately called commissionaires – since the last revolution) Henri d’Amy at 4fr. a day for in his anxiety to be engaged he would go behind the carriage or walk or anything – A- and I and Oddy inside and George with the coachman and Henri behind (calèche and 2 horses), and off at 2 to la cascade de Coo – very hilly – the horses except just thro’ Sap walked the 1st hour – A- and I and all walked some distance after quitting the avenue just out of the town – at about ½ hour from Spa the country becomes like our moors about home – (bruyères) bleak and wild – we had taken all our stock of cloaks and shawls and had not too many – a sharpish wind in our faces – about ½ way from Sap to La ville de Stavelot, on the moors, the village of Francorchamps – at 2 descend in 10 minutes (drag on) into the picturesque ville de Stavelot quite in the bottom – on the Amblève river – the large old convent now belongs to a riche particular who has filled its gardens full of tan pits and leather sheds? but keeps up the grande salle as it used to be when the princes of Stavelot held councils in it (said Henri) – their old chateau in ruins high on the hill above the ville – the houses of Stavelot chiefly wood – interstices of the charpente filled up with brick or lather and clayey plasterer and whitewashed (the timbers blacked) very good picturesque effect – drove thro’ the little grande Place and up the hill over a jolting village-road (narrow cart road) and in 25 minutes (at 2 35) alight and leave the carriage at the little village of Parfondruy – at a little cottage-cabaret – ¾ de lieue )about 2 ¼ English miles good) to walk – we had walked about 10 minutes and just got upon the common when poor A- sat down upon a stone and could walk no farther – we had still ½ hour to walked – A- would be left alone – would not have Oddy stay with her – I thought from her manner she did not want either of the servants but would be rather be alone for some purpose or other – she would not have the carriage on account of the excessive jolting and indeed the coach man would not have liked trying the experiment – after staying about 10 minutes examining the low wild juniper in flower and fruit some black and ripe we left A- and all set off at 3 as fast as we could – for the nearest we went the worst road and soon dashed down thro’ the beech along the steep hill along a rough path that poor Oddy could not keep up with Henri and myself – told George to wait for and take notice of the way, and return at leisure – nothing could happen for I would take care to wait and send back for them if necessary – reached the cascade in 25 minutes – 3 minutes there and back to A- (a boiling airless walk thro’ the wood) in 22 minutes at 2 55 – I had not one dry thread on me – A- had been sketching and was very well amused – some peasants who had passed told me as I returned up the wood ‘de ne pas [?] tuer – la demoiselle écrivait – elle était très contente’ – the cascade and its scenery too lovely for A- to miss – I had determined if she could not get there
Parfondruy the wild black juniper berry much used here in soups and for cooking the woods full of bilberries (or rather bilberry plants) the flowers not yet set.
now on horseback, she should ride there on Monday direct from Spa – it just struck me she might ride one of her carriage horses – walked to the village – and George and Oddy just got back in time to see us start off again he astonished at A-‘s palfrey – left the servants at the cabaret, and the coachman walking at his horses’ head and Henri and I walked we were off again at 4 27 and by a rather longer and much easier, and more agreeable route than before reached the little knoll just above the bridge and cascade at 5 10 – here A- alighted and we stood a minute or 2 enjoying the beautiful scenery – of which we had fine views all the way – sent Henri forward to the cottage cabaret near the cascade to order some boiled trout fresh from the river (Ambléve) and A- and I (I was now a good pilot) went down thro’ the ‘petit jardin’ (little enclosure) to see the cascade – the woman and children had assembled to about a dozen begging – I paid no attention till one of the women threw her little dog into the fall, and the poor thing came dripping out at the bottom none the worse – this was not to be withstood – I promised her something as I returned (gave 0/50) but thought she should begged she would not not tourmenter le pauvre chien – the water was too rapid to let the dog fall upon the rock and in fact the animal was accustomed to the thing and no worse – was not under water more than a few seconds – A- delighted to have come and much the better for her ride – the scenery charming – Boyce says the fall cascade is 60ft. and 12ft. broad – it may be 12ft. broad at the bottom – and the height about 30ft., not (I should think) more – but it is very picturesque – the escape of water from an old mill-goit (old enough to be picturesque – the little cottage like mill just by at the foot of the road) forms a very pretty spread of water in several little streams alongside the cascade which falls into a beautiful sort of amphitheatre plain surrounded by beautiful wooded hills – the road and wooden bridge go exactly over the top of the cascade from side to side of a little break in the little rocky wall that seem from the opposite hill at a distance looks like a little brêche de Roland – the river forms a circle round the foot of the beautifully wooded hills at the back of the cascade before it precipitates itself – one can hardly believe it one and the same river (Amblève) even Henri said there was another river which came d’l’autre côté from towards the village of Trois pont – but he was in error – the beech and birch wood on the hills beautifully rounded glenny and the rich green pastures in the bottom, and the beautiful circuit of the river formed one of the loveliest bits of scenery I ever saw – the course of the Amblève washing the foot of the wooded hills along its gorge like valley whenever the eye caught it from Stavelot to as far as the eye could reach beyond the cascade, is very beautiful – ½ hour at the little cabaret close to the cascade and A- and I each enjoyed our couple of boiled trout which leaped as it were from the river down our throats – Henri and the coachman too got something and the woman charged 2/. gave her 2/50 for which she seemed abundantly satisfied and thankful – hoped this 1st visit she had had would bring her good luck – (the auberge here is a new thing) – the curé seems to lodge there – it is close to the little church which is also close to the road and the cascade – he sat with us at table (I thought he was landlord and even asked him what was to pay) and wished to be jocose about all the kissing at the coronation of our and whom was she to marry, but my gravity soon righted all this – we were en route again at 5 50 – I mounted by and by behind A- meaning to ride up the hill, but I soon found this more fatiguing than walking
SH:7/ML/E/21/0104
so jumped down, and walked without feeling fatigued (now cool and pleasant) and back at the carriage in 40 minutes at 6 ½ - Oddy and George had had bread and butter for which George had the cleverness to pay (0/50) – I had asked what to pay – the woman said what I pleased – no! must fix a price –did not know – Henri to tell her – he said 1/50 – on hearing that George had paid, I merely he had had paid for himself and O- I had nothing to do with it – and should give 0/50 for the bit of use of the room A- and I had had – never to ask what to pay on these occasions – give that I think right – Off in the carriage home again at 6 57 and arrived at 8 ¾ - dinner in 10 minutes – sat over it (had a bottle of wine de Chypre the 1st A- overtasted – likes it even better than vin muscat de Lunel) above an hour – then both of us asleep till 11 ½ - then A- had Oddy and went to bed I made up the fire, and sat up drying my things wet from heat – I had dined in my great thick bourre de soir Mackenzie shawl and yet they still required the fire – very fine day – but cold fresh air in our faces going and also returning – the air on the hills very cold and sharp
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Acts 10:1-18 / Acts 11: 2-25 (The symbolic vision)
1There was a certain man in Caesarea called Cornelius, a centurion of the band called the Italian band,
2 A devout man, and one that feared God with all his house, which gave much alms to the people, and prayed to God alway.
3 He saw in a vision evidently about the ninth hour of the day an angel of God coming in to him, and saying unto him, Cornelius.
4 And when he looked on him, he was afraid, and said, What is it, Lord? And he said unto him, Thy prayers and thine alms are come up for a memorial before God.
5 And now send men to Joppa, and call for one Simon, whose surname is Peter:
6 He lodgeth with one Simon a tanner, whose house is by the sea side: he shall tell thee what thou oughtest to do.
7 And when the angel which spake unto Cornelius was departed, he called two of his household servants, and a devout soldier of them that waited on him continually;
8 And when he had declared all these things unto them, he sent them to Joppa.
9 On the morrow, as they went on their journey, and drew nigh unto the city, Peter went up upon the housetop to pray about the sixth hour:
10 And he became very hungry, and would have eaten: but while they made ready, he fell into a trance,
11 And saw heaven opened, and a certain vessel descending upon him, as it had been a great sheet knit at the four corners, and let down to the earth:
12 Wherein were all manner of fourfooted beasts of the earth, and wild beasts, and creeping things, and fowls of the air.
13 And there came a voice to him, Rise, Peter; kill, and eat.
14 But Peter said, Not so, Lord; for I have never eaten any thing that is common or unclean.
15 And the voice spake unto him again the second time, What God hath cleansed, that call not thou common.
16 This was done thrice: and the vessel was received up again into heaven.
17 Now while Peter doubted in himself what this vision which he had seen should mean, behold, the men which were sent from Cornelius had made enquiry for Simon's house, and stood before the gate,
18 And called, and asked whether Simon, which was surnamed Peter, were lodged there.
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2 And when Peter was come up to Jerusalem, they that were of the circumcision contended with him,
3 Saying, Thou wentest in to men uncircumcised, and didst eat with them.
4 But Peter rehearsed the matter from the beginning, and expounded it by order unto them, saying,
5 I was in the city of Joppa praying: and in a trance I saw a vision, A certain vessel descend, as it had been a great sheet, let down from heaven by four corners; and it came even to me:
6 Upon the which when I had fastened mine eyes, I considered, and saw fourfooted beasts of the earth, and wild beasts, and creeping things, and fowls of the air.
7 And I heard a voice saying unto me, Arise, Peter; slay and eat.
8 But I said, Not so, Lord: for nothing common or unclean hath at any time entered into my mouth.
9 But the voice answered me again from heaven, What God hath cleansed, that call not thou common.
10 And this was done three times: and all were drawn up again into heaven.
11 And, behold, immediately there were three men already come unto the house where I was, sent from Caesarea unto me.
12 And the Spirit bade me go with them, nothing doubting. Moreover these six brethren accompanied me, and we entered into the man's house:
13 And he shewed us how he had seen an angel in his house, which stood and said unto him, Send men to Joppa, and call for Simon, whose surname is Peter;
14 Who shall tell thee words, whereby thou and all thy house shall be saved.
15 And as I began to speak, the Holy Ghost fell on them, as on us at the beginning.
16 Then remembered I the word of the Lord, how that he said, John indeed baptized with water; but ye shall be baptized with the Holy Ghost.
17 Forasmuch then as God gave them the like gift as he did unto us, who believed on the Lord Jesus Christ; what was I, that I could withstand God?
18 When they heard these things, they held their peace, and glorified God, saying, Then hath God also to the Gentiles granted repentance unto life.
19 Now they which were scattered abroad upon the persecution that arose about Stephen travelled as far as Phenice, and Cyprus, and Antioch, preaching the word to none but unto the Jews only.
20 And some of them were men of Cyprus and Cyrene, which, when they were come to Antioch, spake unto the Grecians, preaching the Lord Jesus.
21 And the hand of the Lord was with them: and a great number believed, and turned unto the Lord.
22 Then tidings of these things came unto the ears of the church which was in Jerusalem: and they sent forth Barnabas, that he should go as far as Antioch.
23 Who, when he came, and had seen the grace of God, was glad, and exhorted them all, that with purpose of heart they would cleave unto the Lord.
24 For he was a good man, and full of the Holy Ghost and of faith: and much people was added unto the Lord.
25 Then departed Barnabas to Tarsus, for to seek Saul:
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The Youngest Tita In Club Dread
Went to the burial of a travel buddy's dad this weekend. Had the timelines mixed up because I'm currently living my life based on man hours and crazy sleep schedule. Anyhow, as an introvert who usually get a remark that my look changed again, I had to ask assistance from my other travel buddy to give context to those I've met previously. LOL.
This experience was rather a curious one because mom kept connecting with me the past weeks. This is something she has not done in the 11 going 12 years that she has been gone. LOL. At first, her presence was subtle. As I tried to brush her off, the presence grew louder and louder. In fact, one of the pinnacles of her attempt was when I was peeing. But, she didn't stop there. While I was in an alignment call with my boss, she told me that she heard a sweet-voiced hello. Guess what? I'm working from home. I'm home alone. LOL. I guess, it's her way of telling me a good number of things, which brings me to this curious Saturday.
When you lose a parent, suddenly, strangers who have the same experience become part of your radar. As an introvert who chooses to be an extrovert for the bills and the life after the bills, this is an instant small talk. Over the years, I've learned to master this approach in lieu of being more intentional. My travel buddy (not the one who's burying his dad) is generally very sunny. When the speeches are on going, she swallowed and sighed. Moments later, she teared up. I was about to give her tissue, but of course, as an independent girly, she reached her bag and pulled out her tissue. I got goosebumps all over as I got whacked about the reality of losing parents because my age group is bound to go full blast on being adults. I held back the emotions, of course; but this time around, I allowed myself to be more present in the moment. I exited though to vape because it's getting overwhelming.
The group was composed of seniors and to my surprise, when I was introduced to my travel buddies' LG (light group) friends, I was the youngest. Since I work in digital and started my career late, I usually work with people younger and way younger than me. I was wide-eyed because these ladies are legit like me. They thought I'm in my 20s. HUHUHUHUHUHU. I said that I'm 37 already. They replied: Ay nako, ambata mo pa! HAHAHAHAHHA. Napahiya talaga ako. LOL.
The first bout of getting to know questions panned out quickly. Uterus status. Blood works. The Corrs. Meetings after the Corrs. Backpacking. Singlehood and jowa hunt season or the lack of thereof. More health ganaps and why getting a check up is always a GO and a NO. Losing parents and feeling as though it was just yesterday when the years flew by.
There's something about this Saturday that made me see why mother dragon reached out. You see, her last day on earth was no less than my birthday. Her firstborn's first cry as a human being. It's also her second time to give birth because the official first was a miscarriage. DAMN. This Saturday, the dad of my travel buddy celebrated his 77th birthday. And I was not informed! The emotions are running wild inside me as I maintained my RBF. Perhaps, mother dragon knew I'd be spiraling again so she needed to put her game face on. Maybe just maybe, she had to move out of her safe zone to keep me out of the danger zone, the rabbit hole.
The emotions ran too high and too low yesterday, but today, I woke up feeling good vibes. I felt mom's hug and claws once again, but this time, I welcome it in good faith in spite my default ---bad faith.
Perhaps, I am indeed healing. Perhaps, wounded healers come together to heal better and faster. Bakit ang lambot natin for this weekend? LOL. Peace, love, rakenrol to the world and to the moon and to infinity and beyond.
Also, pa-check up na ba ako? Hahahahahahaha. Abangan.
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