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Commander Rogers,  I’m sorry if you believe this letter to be distastefully tardy. I wasn’t going to write one at all, but Pennyworth (my manservant) insisted that I should send you a “thank you” card. The selection of “thank you” cards I found was unsatisfactory, so I made this one myself. You mentioned that you were an artist, so I believe that you’ll appreciate my use of color. (I have a large collection of crayons.) 

I did not want to send you this, because I still resent that you suggested I order from the children’s menu at IHOP. I still find the cutesy acronym and whipped cream smile that came with my pancakes offensive on a personal level. But after I thoroughly researched your name, Googled you, I felt compelled to keep contact. You did not tell me that you are a decorated war veteran, as well as a high-ranking officer. These are things that should have come up in the course of our conversation.

Additionally, your Wikipedia entry contains an error that you may want to have your people correct. It says that you were born in 1917, which would make you nearly a hundred years old. If it is your actual birthdate, you must reveal to me how you’ve gained usage of a Lazarus Pit.

I have included one (1) drawing of a cat I saw earlier this week. Its vacuous expression and markings reminded me of you. Do you like cats? I would appreciate your professional assessment of my artistic skill. Furthermore, I would appreciate it if you would continue to keep our meeting to yourself. My father is a very rich and very busy man. He need not know. 

Again, you have my condolences on the passing of your friend, Mr. Barnes.

Sincerely,  Damian Wayne 

Damian,

It’s good to hear from you. I have to say, I was surprised by your letter. I know you probably get told all the time that you have great penmanship and a large vocabulary, but I’m still very impressed. Are you sure that your birthday isn’t a typo?I can’t remember the last time I met such an intelligent young man. Your father must be very proud to call you his son.

I hate to date myself, but that Wikipedia entry is right. I was born in New York City on the 4th of July, 1917. Just before America threw herself into World War II, I volunteered to be a test subject in a program that aimed to turn skinny, sick men into the strong soldiers that our country needed. The project failed to produce an army, but it did work on me. I fought as Captain America until the end of the war. I only gave up the name recently, to a man worthy of it. The shield has found its way back to me, sadly. I’m surprised that a young man as educated as you are hadn’t heard about that. It’s rare that I meet anyone who doesn’t know me as Captain first and Steve second.

You show a whole lot of talent, guts, ingenuity, and potential, Damian. I taped your drawing up on my desk, and every time I look at it, I can’t help but smile. In my professional opinion, I think that it’s obvious that you both love art and love animals. You can’t hide passion. Stick with it, okay?

I’m glad that we met. I was having a real tough time, so making a new friend did my heart good. I’d like to get to know you better, if you wouldn’t mind being my penpal. Do you have a favorite subject in school? Any hobbies, aside from art? And have you heard back from your friend Grayson? I’ll bet he’d appreciate a letter from you just as much as I have.

I’ve included one (1) picture of a cat I saw on my morning run. It reminded me of you. I won’t tell your father about the bar ordeal, hand to heart.

Tsunade is out in the field anyway, hair tied back, sleeves rolled, knuckles already red from the bite of winter air. She throws a punch at the log, hears the satisfying thunk, and then - because the universe enjoys comedy - feels a sharp, deep ache pull through her lower abdomen like someone has hooked a finger into a muscle and tugged.

She pauses.

Breathes through her nose.

“Stupid… body,” she mutters, low and vicious, and plants her fist against her hip as if that will intimidate it into behaving.

It does not.

The ache rolls again. Her lower back answers with a familiar, cranky complaint. Her shoulders feel heavy. Her joints feel… louder than usual.

Tsunade exhales, long-suffering.

“Why,” she says to no one, “do I feel like I fought a war in my sleep?”

Behind her, very small footsteps stop.

Minato is on the edge of the training field, a scroll under his arm, flak jacket crisp, hair a sunburst against the gray morning. He’s been headed for the far posts - he always is, because he likes quiet corners and clear angles.

He freezes like a deer who has just heard a twig snap.

How do I love Like Flowers in Sand? Let me count the ways:

Jang Dong Yoon’s Kim Baek Du is adorable. I want to squish his cheeks and put choice bits of food in his bowl.

The childhood background is sweet and relevant.

There is some great humor in the character interactions. Baek Du is often at the heart of it bc he’s such a himbo but he’s a himbo with a heart of gold (see bullet point 1).

I really enjoy all of the ssireum parts, even though I know nothing about the sport. It’s like how much I liked the fencing bits of 25 21.

The small town setting is perfect. These people gossip like there’s no tomorrow and are all up in each other’s business, but they still care about each other.

The mystery has got me hooked. And it isn’t just some flashy mystery tacked onto the story for interest—it’s deeply connected to the community and the characters’ lives and I really like that. It’s just the right amount of suspense for me (I just finished episode 8 fwiw).

It is a crime that this show isn’t getting more attention. I admit it seemed slow at first but it’s one of my favorite currently airing shows I’m watching right now (and I’m watching a lot of them). I look forward to it every week.

If you want to be the main character of a drama, just memorize the famous lines and apply them.

If I do get hired by Gaus Electronics, I’ll really work like I’m going to bury my bones here. I’m not saying empty words. I really will bury my bones here. Live with Gaus and die with Gaus!