fiona gallagher and debbie gallagher.

something i’ve noticed in the shameless fandom is that some (a lot of) people hate debbie and love fiona, and others hate fiona and love debbie. what honestly confuses me is why more people don’t love them both so much?

so, to start off- they both share three important things about their characters. grew up/matured far too quickly, constantly self-destruct, and are the only girls. these three things make it so that they’re more similar, but also make it so that they are always fighting with eachother and the fandom is always putting them against eachother.

in fiona’s case, she had no choice but to grow up too quickly. actually, that’s the case for every gallagher, but especially her, since she was first, and the second that lip was born (when she was 5) she became a mother. she had no choice, it was either raise her siblings, or let them die. she further started self-destructing by having sex at a young age, and once she started doing that she did it frequently, to the point where she connected it to her worth. she got into toxic relationships, and jumped from relationship to relationship without every catching a break (that’s a direct quote from shameless) and throughout the show, fucks herself over whenever things are going well. for example, going on a bender while on probation. and, a lot of the people who hate her (irl and in the show) are misogynist’s or people who don’t bother to understand her well enough to hate her.

in debbie’s case, she grew up too fast also not by choice, except there came a point where she started to mature quicker on purpose when she no longer needed to act 23 at 13. one of her first lines is, “you’re almost nine, carl. you’re going to need to start pulling your weight.” she’s a year older than him so clearly she has already done her part and stepped up, and throughout the first two seasons you see her acting so mature, yet so childish. she goes from kidnapping a child to innocently playing with a baby doll and naming her “gin-gin”. then, there comes a point where fiona has taken legal guardianship of the kids, and has a good job. she has an opportunity to relax, but she doesn’t. debbie is traumatized, and abandoned, and scared, so she confides in the comfort she’s seen work for her older sister, older guys. she dresses a certain way, sleeps with a twenty year old guy (whatever your thoughts are on that situation doesn’t matter in this case), and ends up getting herself pregnant and carrying the child to term. this is all pure self-destruction. then she continues to self-destruct, ruining friendship’s, relationship’s, even her bond with her family members. all of her hurt and trauma from childhood led her straight into the depths of hell. and what’s one of the major reasons she’s hated in the show and in real life? you guessed it! because she’s a woman. and like her sister, another reason she’s hated is because people refuse to read into her character and only see what’s on the surface.

fiona and debbie are two hurt girls who didn’t recieve enough love and so they self-destructed. but, do you want to know the most ironic thing? that’s what every single gallagher ever has done.

frank is a drunk and a drug addict who never bothered to attempt to recover, even when it was for his kids, and even when it was for himself.

lip is an alcoholic who has purposefully ruined his relationships and his schooling just because. he, unlike his father, has tried to recover, but fails.

ian also ruins his relationships to destruct himself, and like his sisters, starting having sex with older guys at a young age. we even see him burn himself “just to feel something”. in ian’s case, though, he gets a happy ending. not everybody really gets that.

carl doesn’t self-destruct as much, but at one point with kelly, he did. he gave up on west point, he gave up on becoming a cop, he gave up on everything and just decided to work at fast food until the alcoholism, substance abuse, and mental illness came to him.

liam honestly didn’t get the time to destruct himself… he was so young throughout the entire show. however, there was that part where he found this potential family for him that were all black and related to monica, and he felt seen by them. but then he robbed them all and ruined it. i’m not sure this really counts as much, though.

but the boys never get as much criticism, because why would they. they’re boys.

fiona and debbie should feel more connected. when fiona leaves, debbie takes on her role and tries to hold everything together, but instead, everything falls apart. debbie has really always wanted to be like fiona, and i always see people on tiktok saying “debbie’s really trying to be fiona💀” and shit, but it’s honestly true, she is like her. just not in the best ways.

anyways, that’s my rant. i have more to say but this is all that’s really important.

Ducktales Lena Retrospective: The Other Bin of Scrooge McDuck! or Why Does Lena’s Darkest Hour Have a WACKKKYY Bigfoot Subplot?

Hello all you happy people and welcome back to Shadow Into Light, my look back the LIfe and Times of Lena Sabrewing. And we’re almost at the end of season 1. Woo-Ooo!. While i’ll have more season 1 episodes to cover for it’s sister arc, this is the last episode in this arc before the finale.. and i’m happy to repeat that next week will be DUCK WEEK as a result, finsihing up this arc and the Della arcs, as well as dipping into season 2 a bit for Lena’s return to celebrate the finale of this wonderful show. Full disclosure: I didn’t PLAN for it this way, I assumed the show would be ending in April, but sometimes serendipity just works out for you. So pitter pat er, let’s get at er.

 When we last left off Webby went on a wild duck chase for her grandma in England and 87!Webby befriended that version of Magica’s niece and told off a grown woman masquerading as a child because her husband likes being called “Daddy”. When we last left the plot proper though, we learned Lena just wanted to be free, and was willing to do whatever it took, and Magica was getting more abusive and more impatient. And if you thought the end to Jaw$! was pretty sad and dark.... strap in and steel yourself as we take a look at one of the darkest episodes in the series.

The opening sets the stage perfectly as we’re in Scrooge’s Room in the middle of the night, when Lena comes in.. with a knife. 

Naturally she dosen’t have baked goods, but instead is trying to cut the knife from around his neck while Magica won’t shut up while she works and keeps distracting her and BLAMING her for getting distracted. As for the knife it’s glowing and mystic because naturally, Scrooge doesn’t trust just ANY string but a magically woven one to hold his dime. Unlucky for her her girlfriend walks in at the exact moment she’s standing over her idol holding a mystical knife. I don’t think hallmark makes a card for “Sorry I was lying to you for months for my abusive aunt to earn my freedom and then looked like I was about to slit your uncle’s throat. I love you though. “ Yet. 

Scrooge starts to stir so Webby pulls Lena out of there and back to her room... and flashes a lamp on her to interrogate her. Lena is able to bounce back, asking “what were you doing there”. Which NORMALLY wouldn’t last more than two minutes.. but since Webby was there to get Drool samples, maybe she wants to clone him I mean she does know a guy I think the why is something we’d rather not know about, Webby herself was a bit suspcious and Lena uses her starkerish ways to say she’d also gotten into being a Scrooge fangirl. This also allows her to ask about the dime.. but since Scrooge never takes it off, that means they have no access and both Lena and Magica are stuck watching Webby’s long presentation on Scrooge’s life story. I mean personally i’d love to see this in it’s full probably 8 hour glory but I’m not trying to earn my freedom or stuck as a shadow monster. 

It was then when watching the episode this morning.. I was reminded it had a subplot. And the instant I saw Dewey folding Louie’s shirts... I started to piece together it was the bigfoot one. 

As you can tell i’m not a fan of this subplot. It has a good core idea, riffing on “kid takes home sasquatch films” like Cry Wilderness, Big and Harry and of course the one that started it all, Harry and the Hendersons. 

It’s just bogged down by one really obnoxious trait that trips it up and is in the wrong episode entirely. We’ll get to that first scene and the plot as a whole in a moment we just need the setup in the a-story first: Scrooge privately conferring with Beakly, which Magica snoops on. While Lena didn’t get far at all in cutting the rope of his dime, she still left a knick and the fact someone got into his house, let alone his bedroom and got THAT far, means SOMETHING bad is afoot. So while he looks for it he’s putting the dime in the Other Bin for safekeeping. We’ll find out what that is in moment. For now 

Let’s Get This Stupid Sasquatch Plot Over With

We open with Louie having conned Dewey into folding his stuff for the “world laundry folding record”. I mean.. it’s greasy but I gotta respect game here. And it’s not actively harming anyone. Though we do find out from an irate Huey he’s done far worse, if in a hilarious way with Louie’s Kids, his obviously fake charity he uses to get money out of Donald. And so far into it, as Huey hid something he had in the closet and offered to Fix Louie’s stretched out hoodie, the reason he was mad at Dewey, I didn’t get why I hated it before. I wondered why I was so annoyed. Same when Huey while carrying Louie’s hoodies hears his uncle looking for something in the mansion. 

Turns out he’s got a bigfoot hiding in their closet, that he found injured int he woods and brought back and all that good kid finding a mythical creature stuff. Dewey of course loves him on first sight and both want to keep him. But unlike most of these sorts of things where the creature’s damage to the room and what not is played off or the sibling doesn’t know, Louie does see it and isn’t happy about it and only agrees to hide the furry bastard because his brothers blackmail him with his schemes, and refuse to feel sorry for him as the creatures antics continue, including drinking Louie’s special pep and eating his snacks. 

And this is where one of the plots two major issues crops up: The way Dewey and Huey act. Both just ignore any damage wooly foot does, any discomfort to Louie and any obvious downsides of this. Now Dewey being clinginly attached to a majestic creature he found and wanting to keep it? Fits perfectly, and him being mean to louie fits because louie tricked him. Huey however.. is horribly out of character, as while I could see him being charmed at first and not wanting his uncle to hunt his new friend.. he’s not an impractical boy. He’d of tried to get his new friend to the woods first thing because it’s where he’s safest from scrooge and his foot has healed. He’s also a Woodchuck and I can’t imagine the JWG says it’s okay to keep a wild animal person as a pet basically. None of it fits him and makes him into a moron for an episode solely for the plot to work. This still could’ve worked but just have Huey and Louie BOTH get suspicious, Huey later, and find out Tenderfoot is actually Gavin, whose sapient, has a phone and simply is taking advantage of them. it would’ve gone the same way: if they told Dewey , Gavin would kill them, as he threatened to do if louie told his brothers. The Gavin part though is brilliant and a really nice twist I didn’t see coming when I first saw this.  

And it would’ve made the already great climax more interesting as Huey would’ve been forced to use the methods of Louie’s he’d derided to beat a far worse scammer. Instead it’s just Louie but he doesn’t take Gavin’s threats lying down.. and comes up with a clever way to use his scam against him. He shaves Gavin, hides the razor then claims to his brother that not being in the woods means he’s dying or some such thing. So our two idiots and our hero drag them out and while they run into scrooge, Louie still saves the idiots life by manipulating him with a schmaltzy speech and they let him go despite his best attempts to stay, with Louie getting a nice “I win in there”. Overall a bit of a mess with some good ideas, but Huey suddenly taking dum dum juice really drags it down.

So in any other episode this would’ve been fine whatever just mildly obnoxious. What makes it really,  unintentionally obnoxious.. is it’s in the middle of a tense, dark, horror story that dives into the depths of Lena’s soul and ends on a really horrifying note. Case in point Louie shaves a bigfoot and gets his victory over his nemesis.. after an utterly spellbindingly horrific nightmare by Lena, easily the most terrifying moment in the entire show. Followed up with a shaved bigfoot. 

Now I could buy Disney simply forced them to do this to keep things light... except Frank’s been pretty upfront about the production process, how Disney has treated him, what they’ve said no on. So if it had been something they were forced to do, he would’ve said it. No this is just not reading the room and not thinking things through and an otherwise stellar episode suffers for it.They could’ve waited till season 2 for it, they didn’t, and this was the result. It dosen’t ruin the rest of the episode it’s too good for it, but damn if it dosen’t create mood whiplash so severe I need a neckbrace. 

The Good Part

So back at the plot anyone actually cares about, we found out what the “other bin” is when Lena asks Webby: While the Money bin is for well, money and precious keepsakes, the other bin is the stuff too dangerous to keep out in the world. And this is the guy who kept a mystical gold eating dragon, a pirate ghost, and a medusa gauntlet in his garage, and we’ll learn after this ep also keeps a giant golden aztec golem in there. NONE of that was deemed dangerous enough to put in the other bin. So Webby is understandably hesitant.. and it gets a bit unsettling when Lena manipulates her into it. While she has in the past.. she usually just nudged Webby into something she’d do anyway at worst, or showed her an r-rated movie or something harmless. While she did use her as an in she clearly cares.. so it shows how horrifically desperate she’s got she’s willing to pressure her into going into Scrooge’s most dangerous and secure location, pointing out this may be her only chance to see the Dime. 

So she reluctantly agrees, and the two head into the garage. Turns out Scrooge keeps all his junk here for more reason than just shoving it wherever it’d go, as the entrance to the other bin is hidden here. The statue that gave Manny his head is actually a clue towards the painting hiding the second bin, which itself requires one of those things used to hold up ropes and such like you’d see at a movie theater... god I miss movie theaters.. I mean watching stuff in the comfort of home is very nice, but it was nice getting out, making a day of it. I mean their around, but I really don’t want to go till one till more vaccinations have happened and it’s a lot safer to go. Wait what were we talking about? Oh right gay ducks going into a horrifying nightmare vault. But yeah the theater thingy is the key, it unlocks the entrance and our heroines head inside. 

In contrast to the modern, buisnessy welcoming bin, the other bin is basically one giant vault/prison, with everything in it securely locked inside identical doored rooms. It’s genius as it is simple: Only 6 people have likely ever had access to this place: Scrooge, Beakly, Gyro, Duckworth and MAYBE the twins. Even Della and Donald being allowed down here is an unknown. The non-scrooge people are only because someone besides him needs to maintain it, keep any creatures fed, that sort of thing and he’d only trust his butler and his housekeeper, who are also both extraordinarily badass, to do so. Gyro is because someone needed to design the cells. I also wouldn’t be surprised if Quackfaster was a 7th since season 3 casts her as Scrooge’s magic expert and he’d likely need specific runes for specific cells. He’d want as few people down here as possible, and even fewer knowing. I’m sure Bradford knew, and i’m also certain it’s the one thing he never quibbled about the expense as while he hates what Scrooge stands for and tried to curb his “chaos” as much as possible.. this is doing exactly what Bradford likes: locking it away where it can’t hurt anybody. Plus quibbling about it might make Scrooge want to show it off to him and that’s.. that's’ a whole lotta nope in a 2 pound bag. 

So for once Webby is very hesitant and very cautious, though naturally Magica points out a door.. and Lena stupidly follows her advice as she knows her “aunt” is impulsive and has no regards for her safety. What did she think was going to happen? They instead find a unicorn.. or rather it’s angry murderous cousin the Sword Horse, which naturally tries goring them. I’d go with Spear Horse, but semantics. Point is Webby is soon tackled by the thing and Magica just wants to let her die. As seen before the tension between Magica and Lena has hit a breaking point: Magica is fed up with Lena’s clear feelings for webby and caring more about her than the mission.. while Lena is fed up with Magica not listening to her, respecting her as sentient being and dismissing her out of hand instead of listening to her often very valid criticism. So Lena naturally ignores her and throws her the knife, which Webby uses to get the Sword Horse back in it’s pen. And then wonders why her girlfriend has  glowing painstakingly crafted magic knife. Whoops. Webby also wants to leave but Lena convinces her to keep going. but it’s also very clear that Webby’s getting more and more reluctant and i’ts very hard to watch. You can’t blame Lena for wanting to be free of Magica: she dosen’t see her as a person, and dosen’t value her life. But it’s still hard to watc her have to manipulate the only person that loves her and do so so.. effectively. It’s easy to imagine Lena’s done this dozens of times to other people.. but not to someone she actually CARES about. 

Webby DOES figure out how the rooms work though: each one is labeled by the year Scrooge caught it. So she assumes one room she fine is the dime.. and Lena of course runs in and slams the door shut... they’ve found it. So we then get to the most terrifying moment of the series. With victory in her grasp magica roars for Lena to claim the dime, filling the room and Lena with shadow with Lena seemingly disolving.. until Magica is restored or at least partially, still a shadow. Magica has just one thing for her.. and Lena’s reactoin is terrified.. and says oh so much in just one expression it’s VERY clear Lena fears she’s about to die... if she’s lucky. Magica’s been so verbally abusive, tearing her down constantly, manipulating her constantly.. why WOULD Lena expect anything good? Why would she expect anything other than pain or death? So a hug is a surprise.. as is Webby who assumes she’s being attacked... and is clearly heartbroken that’s not the case and runs for Scrooge when Magica admits the truth... only for Magica to seemingly kill her, turning her into a doll resembling the original Webby

Yeah at this point it’s obvious something’s up.. but before we can get to the natural reveal at the end of this horror show, Lena demands Magica change her back... only for a fight to naturally ensue with Magica rubbing the way Lena’s treated Webby in her face: How she manipualted her, lied to her and used her. Even if it was for more noble reasons.. she never told her any of this or tried to and is now directly responsible for her death. She’s a monster.. and then Lena’s amulet activates.. and seemingly finishes the job. 

Then Lena wakes up. This was simply one of SCrooge’s artifact, one Webby mentioned earlier off hand and Webby rescues her. It was all a nightmare.. easy to see given Webby was seemingly killed or turned into a doll at points.. but besides making Lena realize how while not as bad as her aunt, she ahsn’t been great.. it also gives us a painful look into her head and how she sees both Magica and Webby. With Magica.. it’s again VERY clear Magica verbally abuses her, depersons her and is in general a horrifiingly relastic depection of a domestic abuser. But it’s also telling Magica hugs her... while Lena didn’t expect it, this is all her subconcious mixed with a magical cursed artifact, it’s clear that deep down one of the things she wants most.. is for Magica to LOVE HER. 

That is just... it hurts so much.  She just wants a Mom.. and even then her subconcious can’t give her THAT because it knows the truth. Granted the nightmare thing might of had something to do with it, but still, the fact is deep down she knows Magica dosen’t care about her but she WANTS her to. As with Webby, she fears Magica is right, that all her gaslighting has had an effect and Webby would run away the second she found out. When as we’ll learn.. that’s not true at all. She’s deeply hurt... but she still belivies in her. But Lena can’t even see that. She’s been beaten down so much by someone constnatly telling her no one will ever love her she belivies it herself and all her mind and the dreamcatcher can do is pummel her over and over again with what she feels about herself, what she’s KNOWN about how she treats webby even if she had no way out otherwise, how wrong it’s felt. Just holy shit it’s a lot to take in. 

But all this trauma has made Lena realize she truly does love Webby and this isn’t worth it.. she’ll find some other way out or figure out something, for now their leaving. She’s not dying for this.. not for her. They happen to run into Scrooge who, due to the WACKY BIGFOOT SUBPLOT THAT HAPPENED RIGHT AFTER THE ABOVE SCENE, no I will not let that go even going back to Frank’s twitter asks he outright said it was their darkest plot paired with one of their most insane, he knew what he was doing. Turns out cleverly he kept the Dime in vault one. As he puts it “They never think to check the first one”. Smart. He also keeps his worry room down here. Just a note I wanted to mention. 

He does chide them, and Lena takes the full fall.. but suprisingly he dosen’t ban her from his home or anything, he just asks they be honest and would’ve gladly showed the dime off to them both if they’d just asked. Once Scrooge and Webby walk off far enough Magica berates her again..but Lena is done. She’s realized from her own horrifying nightmares that NO amount of freedom is worth what Magica will get out of this, that her own soul isn’t worth the death of the one person she cares about: Webby will fight her and she might not make it. She loves her more than she fears Magica. And even if it means loosing Webby.. she knows who can stop him. Unfortunately.. this is not a happy ending as Magica simply takes full control. And now has Scrooge’s full trust. 

Final Thoughts: This episode is one half a masterpiece. The parts with Lena are to this day, as we approach the very last episode, some of the show’s finest writing and Lena’s nightmare is easily the darkest scene in the series, and only not the most gutwrenching.. because we’re getting to that next week. It finishes the first leg of her character arc, with her selfishness all gone, and the only thing she wants is Webby’s hapiness. Granted that leads to a whole nother character arc over her season 2 episodes, but we’ll get there. Point is she’s realized her manipulations are wrong and not worth the cost, and that she’ll never get anything good out of Magica. Freedom.. will take just a bit longer. It’s eerie to watch, uncomfortable as Lena sinks to her lowest point before climbing out of it, and with a very tense atmosphere the whole time, the bin having a smothering uncomfortableness as we know there’s tons of horrible things here.. but we don’t know what. 

So on it’s own it’d be one of the series best episodes, and the plot itself is still one fo the series best.. but it’s weighed down by one of the series worst plots. Still tame compared to a lto of other series worst moments but being paired with something so dark and excellent really shows how fucking stupid this plot was and made it that much more grating. It just clashes badly. Thankfully the crew did learn from this fiasco to the point we got one of the series best episodes “Escape from the Impossibin!”. That one seemingly has two light enough plots, Scrooge, Louie and Della escaping from the bin and Webby stalking the boys, but in a comedic ic still messed up fashion.. but both take a sharp left at just the right time as to not clash: the full implications of what Webby’s doing and her physical fight with Bentina happen around the same time Scrooge breaks down and confesses he’s scared he can’t win this time. The episode gets really dark in the second half but it eases into it and slowly makes it’s way to it, building to it with some laughts to disarm it. But stuff like robo scrooge or the timeloop room, or the timeloop room, or the timeloop room, or the oh thank god i’ts broken. That stuff isn’t SO wacky or out of place that it detracts from the other plot. They compliment each other. Here it’s just two plots that don’t work together at all joined together for some reason.  So yeah overall a very mixed bag of an episode and if you do want to watch or rewatch it.. just skip the bigfoot subplot> it’s not worth it. 

Next Time on Shadow Into Light: It’s all come down to this. Magica finally ges what she wants. The Shadow War is Night.. but before I can tell you that story we have a bit of ground to cover so..

Next on this Blog: The family minus Beakly ends up in Greece. Dewey is forced to deal with his fears about his mom, Scrooge is forced to deal with his old rival Zeus, and Donald is forced to deal with an unwanted admirerer. Spanikopita!

If you liked this review, follow for more, feel free to contribute to my patreon, and feel free to commission a review of your own. Until the next rainbow, it’s been a pleasure. 

Three years in, I had basically arrived—I had been transferred to the day shift. It was the premier shift. You wanted to get the day shift because those are the best hours, good days off.

On my beat, they started telling me: “We really want you to start policing this section of Boulevard and Ponce de Leon Avenue, basically the Bedford Pines Apartments. We think there are dope boys in there. We think there’s a lot of illegal activity happening and we want to really focus there. So we’re gonna put up signs that say you can’t park on the street. I want you to go and write tickets on every single car that’s on the street and I want you to get those cars out of there; if they don’t move, tow ’em. I want you to start running checks on everybody standing on the street; if they have got warrants, I want you to lock ’em up.”

It became this very aggressive policing strategy in the Bedford Pines. Which was strange. Because it was extremely rare for them to tell you to do anything. It’s unusual for them to give you very specific directions, and then for them to be very serious about it and follow up—I’d have supervisors show up and say, “Hey I drove by, there were some cars parked out there, did you ticket them?”

It made me very curious. So on my own time—I live in Atlanta, I live in the zone I policed, which is super rare—I drove over there and had a conversation with some people. I was like: “Hey, this is what I’m being asked to do. Why do you think that is? What’s going on?”

A homeowner in the area was very frank with me. He said the guys who own Bedford Pines got their tax bill last year, and their taxes were assessed based on all the gentrification that’s happening in the area. And so they wanted to move everybody out of these apartments and knock ’em down and rebuild these nice expensive apartments and the government said no. And so then they said, “Well, that’s ok, we’ll just increase the rent.” They tried to increase the rent and the Section 8 guys came back out and said, “No, you can’t do that either.”

The only way you can evict or do anything like that is if the person who owns the apartment is convicted of a felony. So the Bedford Pines guys just went to the police department and said: “We want you to police in here, and we’re going to give you a section of Bedford Pines to actually have office space. And I want you to lock up as many people as possible so we can make these apartments vacant and we can knock ’em down.”

I go to my supervisors: Is this what the case is? And they looked at me like, what are you, stupid? Of course, why else would we be doing this?

I’m not a constitutional lawyer—that’s not my bag. I’m not even a political activist. But something about that smacks of institutional racism, right? I mean, there wasn’t a white person in this whole complex. Most of the renters were single Black girls who are just trying to, you know, make their way in the world. And yes, their boyfriends probably were dope boys and were up to no good or whatever, but they’d been doing the same thing forever, and they would continue to do the same thing forever. I don’t know what the problem was except that now there’s a multi-million-dollar skyrise next door to them.

There was something about that that made me think now, when I clock into work, I’m not doing any good. I’m actually doing harm.

It wasn’t long before the riots started, but I started making noise right then. I was already pretty vocal about the fact that I wouldn’t lock people up for minor drug stuff. I didn’t feel great about ruining someone’s life over a dime bag of weed or whatever, so I just started trying to find a way to exit stage right.

It dawned on me that the entire system, the entire thing, was just a shitty mafia system. If you tried to do a good job and say, “I’m going to be a good cop, and I’m going to obey commands,” they would abandon you, charge you, leave you behind, and not even think twice. If you didn’t obey the rules, then they were gonna charge you for that. And if you tried to remain quiet and do your job, you are going to be a piece of modern-day redlining that way, too. There was no way that I could exist and feel good about it. And because I didn’t have to—and that’s the privilege part—I just decided not to.

When I told the department I was quitting, they said, “Good for you. If I could quit, I would quit.” My supervisor literally said: “Can we get together after work and you tell me what else I can do? I don’t know what else to do and I cannot stomach being here.”

Editor’s note: After talking with Mother Jones, Gissler relocated from Atlanta following what he believes to have been retaliation for quitting. He explained the situation in a subsequent message:

A report was made to the Division of Family and Children’s Services alleging abuse in my household. Also an allegation of animal abuse was made. Both allegations are very serious for anyone, but especially as law enforcement, because you cannot operate while under investigation. The presumption is that whoever filed the report assumed I was going to stay in law enforcement and the effect would be terror and hardship. DFACS was very cooperative and was able to see immediately that the allegations were unfounded and complained about the wasted resources. It was a shot across the bow meant to communicate that I shouldn’t be “noisy” while exiting.

My wife was especially blindsided by the ordeal and was truly terrified. Our leaving was necessary simply to insulate ourselves from such hijinks by distancing ourselves geographically. Currently, APD is filing random charges and administrative punishments around the department to discourage the hemorrhages in staffing. It has worked and people are quieting and hiding. It effectively stops officers from transferring or retiring if they are under investigation. Fortunately for me there is little they can do outside of this sort of thing or something very dumb like attempt to physically harm me, which would be harder now. That’s too dramatic to even consider.

Good cops get weeded out. They quit, or they get fired, or they get threatened or coerced or re-educated.

Growing Pains thoughts

I’ll be frank... this episode destroyed me in ways I think I’m gonna still be processing for a while.

But hey! Dogcopter’s gay and in love and good for him!

Everyone’s getting married but me!

*drops carton of ice cream he was eating for lunch*

I feel like poop

honey, Steven, maybe that’s all the ice cream

Don’t you remember the creamed corn debacle???

Also all the cheesy puffs?

Also all the mess?

This face is funny because it hurts ;_;

and he INSTANTLY cheers up when calling Greg. Oh, honey.

I’m glad Greg is still a band manager out on the road!  What a great thing for him.  

Though it’s another case of Steven nudging a guardian into self-care, it’s a much smaller nudge and a much more mentally stable guardian, and it’s in line with what could be a normal teen-parent interaction

Like when my brothers and I cheered on my mom for getting her teaching degree

But Steven’s anxiety eyes as Greg ribs him for things that should be part of being a normal teenager hurt my soul

I spy potato chips, cheesy poofs, and spilled ice cream just on the fucking floor in his room.  And a laundry hamper in easy reach but with clothes everywhere.  Steven is really, really hurting.

Steven has Greg’s old picture in his phone.

Another sign of wanting to hold on to the past, perhaps. Connie’s picture is updated.

Steven... tears off the freezer door. Those expired Cookie Cats in the back are definitely gonna be inedible.

Steven: My body keeps randomly growing! It doesn’t hurt so it’s fine!

Also Steven: FULL OF SKULL FRACTURES

Connie’s faces are the exact correct response to the badness unfolding in front of her.

The way Steven persistently tries to deflect and shove down his own needs and fears with both Greg and Connie is heartbreaking.

PRIYANKAAAAAAAAAAA MY FAVORITE DOCTOR EVAR

OKAY, so realistically, I was worried that it would just be too weird having Steven’s best friend’s/kinda girlfriend’s mom be his doctor.

But Steven’s messed up enough that maybe boundaries don’t matter right now eeeeeh

anyway. I love Priyanka. I love how rational she is.  Let’s rule out human causes for the problem, shall we?

CONNIE you are so mature and reassuring to Steven and also respecting his privacy and ALSO being like HEY FELLOW HUMAN BEING GREG GET YOUR ASS OVER HERE thank god

I’m glad he is still such a round boi <3

I LOVE THE CREEPY GEM SOUND IT’S MY FAVORITE SOUND EFFECT EVER

I’m pleased Priyanka even thought to auscult it

Poor Priyanka about to start on a righteous path of “kid you should have been going to the doctor” and then Steven just BLOOORPOPS

Is... that one of those blue things that doesn’t cover your butt?

yes.

I love her. she is so fucking single-minded. You see where Connie gets her determination from.

Just imagine Priyanka thinking about how little Steven seemed when she met him.  She and Connie both thought he was about 8 until his 14th birthday.  She thinks of that little boy being smashed, being broken, and she just... she aches.

That doesn’t change the fact that you experienced trauma.

But you were hurt! Badly hurt!

I... was badly hurt.

wow wow wow this all hurts me okay

Priyanka’s voice is so calm. So measured. She is trying to present this information in a way that won’t scare him.

You think there’s something wrong with my brain?

This scares him so much :(

They did it... they really did it... everything I’ve been saying for months, everything I’ve been thinking would come back to haunt him, so many things over the years.... it’s here.  They really did it.  And I’m emotional, and I hurt for him, and I’m amazed at how many of these moments I pinned down and put in my animatic weeks ago. And I feel terrible for Steven, and I feel terrible for my childhood self, and for my baby brother who died of a drug overdose from an addiction that likely stemmed from the cumulative effects of his own accumulated adverse childhood experiences.  Our shared childhood.  Except I’m still here, and he’s gone.  And why was I lucky enough to be strong enough to come through that without a fatal coping mechanism when he wasn’t?  Why did he reach for something that would kill him?  Why did our childhood have to include my father’s suicide attempts and poorly medicated bipolar disorder and days where we were so scared to see his car come home?  Why did we have to be screamed at and have our things destroyed by our dad smashing them in a rage?  Why did we have to go through this? Why did Steven have to be so harmed in so many ways?   What fractures do I carry under my skin, invisible, like Steven?

Oh. Maybe this is why it took a full day to collect my thoughts on this episode.

Oh.

Oh, Steven. Your heart is broken ;____;  I love that he’s mature enough to not be angry at Connie for her choice, but that doesn’t mean it isn’t a terrible, terrible blow to him.

You haven’t told your mom?

oh Steven this is rich coming from you

Did you EVER tell Greg ANY OF THIS STUFF

Did you EVER tell the Gems what White Diamond did to you???

But maybe he hopes that since Connie HAS a real mom that they at least can be close

and maybe he fears that if Connie didn’t tell her mom, then that means she thinks it’s really bad :(

oh no oh no he’s a mostly naked pink giant boy and we DO NOT NEED ANY MORE SKULL FRACTURES 

“I... can’t... BE AROUND YOU RIGHT NOW!”

I’m... 

I can’t

I’m so sorry Steven

ZACH how the FUCK do you do this

If that man does not get an Emmy for this season the whole system can die in a fire

“Connie? .... thank you.”

FUCK 

FUCK

FUCK

somehow that’s even MORE devastating than the other line

just the acknowledgement of the pain and the fear and the confusion he’s going through

and that she knew what had to be done

I CAAAAN’T

“It’s fine, Dad.”

SON IT SURE AS SHIT AIN’T

another amazing delivery

I just... fuuuuuuuuck

“I proposed to Connie!”

Those TEARS, that FACE, there is so much AGONY in every line and syllable of this scene, he’s so ashamed and embarrassed and hurt and sad and there’s just so much, too much, he can’t --

Sometimes, you look so much like her.

GREG.  Greg is SO GOOD YOU GUYS.

he’s the dad we should all aspire to be to any young people in our lives honestly

he still makes mistakes

but the fucking HEART he has

The house is all cleaned up by the time Steven gets to bed with the hot cocoa.

You know that Greg INSISTED Steven not lift a fucking FINGER to clean it.

You KNOW that man schlepped all the garbage downstairs, cleaned the ice cream off the floor, started the laundry, all of it.  You KNOW he cleaned his son’s house like his life fucking depended on it.

I’m writing it.  This fic is gonna happen.  

And it’s gonna hurt.

I need to go sit and be awhile.

What's your favorite Rick Riordan series between Percy Jackson, The Kane Chronicles, Heroes of Olympus, Magnus Chase and Trials of Apollo? (or like, if you can't choose, what do you like about the series you've read?)

Trials of Apollo, no contest. 

I liked Percy Jackson a lot, it was VERY well done. Percy was hilarious and relatable, but also just super awesome, his dynamic with Annabeth was fun to read, along with his dynamic with Grover, the quests had a lot of entertaining encounters, and it had some well-executed themes that tied in with the overall conflict nicely, mostly about how parents’ and adults’ negligence and even abuse can harm their kids, the overall effects of that, and just... generally trying to get the parents to shape up, as well as the effects of not respecting others in general, like with how the minor gods and by extension, their children, are treated by the Olympians. It comes up with Percy’s relationships with both Gabe and Poseidon, and most of the campers’ relationships with their godly parents, and that’s a MAJOR cause behind the entire conflict, and one of the major things that Percy tries to make better at the end of the last book.

Kane Chronicles... it’s been awhile since I read it. I don’t remember it having as prevalent a theme as Percy Jackson did, though there was definitely social commentary on racism, with how Carter was sometimes treated, and with how people had trouble comprehending that Carter and Sadie were full siblings, since while both are mixed, Carter’s pretty dark-skinned, while Sadie looks White. It was more of a background thing though, not a major plot point. I liked the characters and the plot fine, they were entertaining, and it was good overall - but it’s not a series I’ve felt a pressing need to reread either. Only real complaint I have about it is the romances centering around Sadie. Her and Anubis were kinda cute, but it would’ve been a lot cuter if she was older than 12-13, and he wasn’t a 4000-year-old god who looked, acted, and was treated as a 16-year-old. And then the whole thing with making it a love triangle with Walt who’s ALSO 16 and Rick’s method of “solving” the love triangle... look honestly I just would’ve been a lot more ok with the romantic shenanigans there if Sadie wasn’t a middle-schooler throughout it. Overall still good though, I’d be down for an adaptation of it, but it’s one of the few cases where I hope something IS flat-out changed to make the romances more palatable.

Heroes of Olympus is where I originally fell off of the Riordanverse. There was just so long between books and I could barely remember what happened between them, and with most of the books being like parts of the same quest (especially books 3, 4, and 5), unless you were constantly refreshing your memory of them via fandom, they were hard to follow, especially with several main characters and different character dynamics to keep track of. When I went back and read the whole set of them though, getting back into the series, it was WAY better, since I could read them as a coherent whole. I could tell he was struggling to juggle all the characters, but I thought he did a fairly decent job of it for what it was. I ended up liking all the characters - ESPECIALLY Leo, I thought he was great and relatable and funny, but I also wanted to hug him - and while the quest could drag on a bit at times, there were some interesting parts there. And Percy and Annabeth’s journey through Tartarus was GREAT. 

The themes for Heroes Of Olympus overall were pretty much the same as with Percy Jackson, but with less emphasis I think. It was mostly just “the gods (mostly Zeus, really) are being crappy again, but this time we have enough support among ourselves to manage, except for when a god is technically required to defeat a Giant”. A lot more emphasis was placed on individual character arcs and circumstances, which I think was a good choice, since with so many main characters, they needed more concentrated character development in order to put them up to par with Percy and Annabeth. Plus it allowed Rick to still go into some different themes a bit, like racism with Hazel, trauma with Leo, insecurity with Frank, etc, in a way that felt natural and relevant. It helped that they were broken up into different books for their introductions, so not everything was dumped in at once.

The ending of Heroes of Olmypus... yeah the final battle with the GIants was lame as all hell, and honestly the quest ended up feeling a bit like busywork, but screw it, I did LOVE one part of the ending. The imagery of big, bad Gaia, who even Zeus is so scared of he just wants to hide away with his head in the ground, physically manifesting and being about to take everyone out, everyone losing hope... and then screaming as Festus appears and snatches her up into the sky as Leo gives a shit-eating grin and hurls fireballs at her while insulting her the whole time is just GREAT. I always giggle, and I honestly found it a lot more memorable than the Kronos fight, even if it was technically less epic. It seemed fitting for her to be taken out in such an embarrassing way, by the boy she’d personally taken the most from.

Magnus Chase... yeah that’s the only one I didn’t finish. Quick note: its been over a year since I tried it, so I’m operating off of memory here. I wanted to like it, and after reading through Heroes of Olympus (which i originally stopped reading after Mark of Athena) and Trials of Apollo, I was all hyped up for more Riordanverse... and was disappointed. The basic elements were there, and the writing itself wasn’t bad, but... well, I never really got attached to most of the characters this time, I didn’t find the quest very interesting, and... well, you see how I mentioned about the themes in the earlier reviews? I thought Rick bit off more than he could chew with Magnus Chase, at least with the first book. (I slogged through the first book, got a hundred pages into the second book to see whether Alex, who I’d heard a lot of hype about, could save it, thought Alex was only ok but not someone who saved the book, and called it quits). 

So in Magnus Chase, Rick went DEEP into the social commentary on a lot of disparate subjects, trying to really tackle homelessness, child abuse (because no duh, that’s pretty much a staple, I think the only of his series that DOESN’T have major themes around that is Kane Chronicles), Islamophobia, ableism, and... I’m having trouble thinking of the exact term for it, but Blitzen was heavily looked down upon and derided for wanting to make fashionable armor and just being into fashion in general, so... I think it’s supposed to commentary on making fun of people for having interests that are generally seen as feminine? I guess? I dunno, it was definitely social commentary on SOMETHING, but I think the dwarves having their own particular culture here hurt whatever Rick was trying to say, since social commentary is very much tied to the culture it’s in, and we only have a small taste of dwarven culture, at least in the first book. 

In any case, all these things are fine to do social commentary on, but when you’re trying to go in-depth and really address them, it helps if they’re more tied in with the overall conflict in the book, and if each issue has room to breathe. As it was, it kinda felt to me like the characters were being paraded from location to location to confront some different social issue. I just thought it was too much, too crammed into one book, and the overall conflict had pretty much nothing to do with that. Like, at the end of the book Rick tried to tie it together with some sort of “we’re a band of misfits” message, and... well, a message based on NOT fitting in with society, isn’t one that’s very satisfying or cohesive. And the individual issues, while there’s certainly cross-sectionality between, aren’t intrinsically linked, so... they just don’t mesh together very well. Not so many, all mashed into one book. Plus I just didn’t care for any of the gods, and the only characters I liked were Magnus and Sam. Blitz and Hearthstone... they were just sort of “there” for me.

I can see why people like Magnus Chase, and it’s not BAD by any means, but it just wasn’t for me. Maybe I’ll take another crack at it at some point, but I’m not super optimistic about it. As it was, I just ended up looking up the parts where Magnus met with Annabeth and read those.

Trials of Apollo though, I ADORE. Apollo was hilarious (along with the books in general), it had a pretty focused message about child abuse and abuse in general, along with how a privileged position can blind you from the travesties that are going on around you, or that you yourself cause, and I just thought the themes worked very well. Rick went more in-depth this time on the exact consequences of child abuse and the ways that a parent could abuse and manipulate their child, something that wasn’t covered as much in his earlier series, as those were more based around neglect. I’m a sucker for a good redemption arc, and I was really impressed with how it was kinda slipped in with Apollo. Like, he didn’t even know he NEEDED one, and the good guys weren’t especially pressing him on that point, it’s a realization he slowly came to over the course of several books. And you can clearly tell that he’s conceited and has issues, but isn’t actually malicious... and slowly the reader comes to the realization that he has hidden depths, that not even HE knew he had. It’s really interesting how he did some pretty bad things (or DIDN’T do, a lot of it has to do with inaction and just being uncaring), but he never comes off as being like, evil. He comes off as being an arrogant, narcissistic person at first, but then slowly finding out that beneath that is a lot of pain and trauma, and part of that persona he’s built up has been to deal with this. Watching him slowly change and grow and discover himself during the series, in a way he never had before... it’s just amazing to read. Also puts a nice cap on the Greco-Roman saga, in that the past two series had a heavy emphasis on how the gods didn’t care enough and had to have their hands forced a lot, and Apollo sort of acting as a stand-in for those other gods, showing that yes, they CAN change for the better - something that most of the gods, and even other immortals, didn’t think was possible, even as they did it.

Well that was super long. But yeah, I have strong feelings on the Riordanverse, and Trials of Apollo is far and away my favorite.

Ward (Part Two)

Find Part One here!

Warnings: suicide/assassination mention

A/N: So, it has been a while--three years or so. This story has been sitting in my drafts since April 11, 2017. Tumblr has changed so much. The Purge came and went. I have no idea how this editor works anymore. I have no idea what’s going on, to be quite frank. Anyway. This is for you all, who have stayed on through these years. Enjoy -B

"It's a good thing she's getting rest." A voice somewhere above the clouds stated optimistically.

"Yes, a good thing indeed." Another echoed, floating near another cloud.

Your head ached as if you harbored a nest of mice chewing and nibbling at your brain. You cringed just thinking of it. The voices above you were so irritating; you wanted nothing more than for them to stop. You groaned and were pleased to find that they did. Silence, comforting silence, surrounded you.

Slowly the aching in your head ebbed away like the tide going out and you were able to think clearly. You knew you were in Camelot, and what your name (and title) was, so you figured you couldn't have hit your head too hard. Before even opening your eyes you came to the conclusion that you were in the physician's chambers, or perhaps your own, and the voices you heard had to belong to the physician and perhaps his assistant. You opened your eyes. Yes, these chambers were your own.

There was no point in trying to feign sleep, you decided, so you shifted slightly to let the physician know you were awake.

"How is my aunt?" You demanded to know. Deep in your gut, you simply knew that she had to be dead, but a little voice inside desperately clung to the hope that she was not, that she was being treated the same as you and would be okay. The look on the physician's wrinkled face told you far more than words.

"I'm very sorry, your highness." He told you sincerely. "How are you feeling?"

You managed a shrug. In your present state of mind you did not notice how you were addressed as "your highness," rather than "lady," as befitting a ward. A commotion seemed to burst in through the door. You only managed to twist your body slightly to see the King coming towards you. Ah, a commotion indeed.

"Your highness, I'm glad to see you awake and well. We are very lucky you were not harmed." Arthur breezed, taking your hand and giving it a comforting squeeze.

"Yes, I-I suppose so." You stuttered. How lucky could you be really? Your aunt, your only family in the world, was dead, and now she had left you in charge of a kingdom you didn't know was yours until only very recently!

"Tell me," your voice was stronger now, "what became of the perpetrator?"

You wanted to know the fate of the person who ripped your aunt away from you. Yes, it was magic that killed her, but you blamed the person, not the weapon. Arthur shifted uncomfortably in his seat.

"He was immediately arrested and placed in a cell."

"Good," you nodded, "I should like to speak with him."

What you wanted to know was why. Why would he do this? Your aunt's kingdom was friendly to those with magic, so why target a friend rather than a foe. The handsome blond king in front of you was nothing but kind, but, if you were given a choice between his life and your aunt's, there would be no choice. Why her?

"The guards found him hanging there this morning." Arthur told you in a low voice. "His arms were bound and he was gagged. We don't think it was a suicide attempt; someone chose to kill him."

You didn't know how to respond. On one hand, you were glad in a twisted way that your aunt's murderer was dead. However, on the other you now had proof that the citizens of Camelot were not kind to magic. The whole ordeal made you feel sick. Arthur did not push the matter further, and you suspected it had a lot to do with the queasy look on your face.

He didn't protest when you asked both him and Gaius to leave the room.

The guard Arthur insisted stay near you nodded politely as he closed the door behind your leaving guests. You never really knew the proper decorum for dealing with a guard, so you just bowed your head in thanks and watched him take up his post on the other side as it swung shut. Once the door closed behind him, you allowed yourself to drop the semblance of tranquility and calm you were holding.

The full force of your aunt's death hit you like falling off a horse and hitting the ground. The air seemed to be pulled from your lungs and you were floating between right and wrong, day and night. Nothing seemed real, not except for the deep ache in your chest.

If she were still alive, she'd be here now at your bedside. You remembered a time, when you were younger, when you were dreadfully ill and she, even while ruling as queen, kept a constant vigil at your bedside. She soothed your fears and was a comforting presence during those dark times.

Though she never let you call her mother--"I'm not your mother, my love. She was a much better woman than I am"--some times you simply couldn't help but think it. And now she was gone. Oh gods. Your throat tightened up and you struggled to breath again.

Your eyes slammed shut and hot tears forced their way down your face. You buried your face in your hands, wishing that everything could just go back to normal. Wrenching sobs wracked your chest, but a noise outside the door alerted you to attention.

"Your highness? Are you alright?" You heard someone ask, knocking softly on the door. You assumed that it was one of Arthur's servants he'd sent to look after you; if you sent him back Arthur would only send more. You didn't want him to worry about you. As you were just now discovering, crown rulers had numerous things to think about at all times. You wiped your eyes quickly and turned your back to the door, pulling the blankets up over your shoulders. Maybe you could pretend to be sleeping and send him away quickly.

"Yes, I'm fine, but you may as well come in." You sighed. As royalty, Aunt Lysa had warned you that you'd never have privacy when you wanted it. Apparently that also extended to mourning.

The serving boy opened the door and stuck his head in halfway, almost apologetically. When you didn't protest, he stepped all the way through the door and closed it behind him. Now that you could see him entirely, you recognized him from the feast. He had been bickering with the king over whether or not it was proper for him to wear his hat--a monstrosity of feathers and velvet, really. In the end, Merlin won and the hat lay discarded for the evening. The memory made you smile slightly, a small ray of sunshine in the otherwise desolate world. As the firelight glinted in his eyes you remembered one more thing--he was also the one to pull you away from the danger.

You may have owed him your life.

"Arthur sent me to check up on you." He explained. "He knows what it's like to lose someone you love. He had a sister..."

Morgana. You knew. She had been missing for nearly a year now. Word had spread quickly throughout the kingdoms to look for her, but everyone feared the worst. Either she didn't want to be found or she was dead. You nodded understandingly. Poor Arthur.

"You may tell Arthur that I'm fine." You sighed. "If that's all..."

"Forgive me for being bold, my lady--your highness," Merlin cringed at his blunder, "but you're very clearly not fine."

You laughed hoarsely, tossing him a look over your shoulder.

"Your powers of observation are in-credible. How much does Arthur pay you?"

"Not nearly enough." He confessed, shrugging his lanky shoulders awkwardly.

You laughed at this, but immediately felt guilty. Still, it felt good to laugh. Talking with Merlin distracted you. Maybe that was Arthur's intention of sending him in the first place.

Over the next few days, Merlin was a frequent visitor at your bedside. Your head had sustained a bit of a massive injury, and Gaius didn't want to risk you hurting yourself any more, so you were restricted to bed rest. Merlin always seemed to bring the outside in with him, with stories of the Knights and whatever stupid trouble Arthur had gotten himself into recently, and those visits soon became the best part of your day.

One evening, Merlin stayed later than usual, not leaving to serve Arthur his dinner as he usually did.

"The prat actually gave me a night off, can you believe it?" He grinned, pulling up his favorite chair. You gently smiled in response.

"Merlin, if this is your only night off, by all means don't feel like you have to spend it here with me."

"Why? I like spending time with you. Besides, Gaius would like me to improve my patient management skills. How do you feel, patient?"

"Managed." You joked.

As the two of you sat and talked, the sun set and soon your room was rather dark, save for the fire in the fireplace and the few candles on the desk. You had a candle on your night table, and that seemed like the obvious solution.

It was an accident, really. You weren't thinking. That was your problem--Lysa would always tell you; you never thought before you acted. Before you could even think of the consequences, you'd used a little bit of magic to created a flame on the candle on the table for light. You heard Merlin gasp.

"Y-you have magic?"

You stared at him quizzically for a moment, thinking. If he betrayed you to the guards, what were the odds of you surviving? You really weren't sure, but, considering that Lysa was already dead there wasn't a terrible amount left for you to live for. Even if it would get you killed, why not tell the servant about magic? A fine idea, really.

"I know a little magic. Well, it's not much at all. Every bit I've got I had to fight for. Lysa believed that a good ruler had to know about all of her subjects. The magic users were simply the more marginalized ones."

"Oh." Was all that Merlin could say.

"I supposed you'll want to run off to Arthur and have me arrested." You sighed, wishing you'd heeded Lysa's advice and been more careful. You blew out the candle, watching the smoke rise and dissipate as if it were erasing all evidence.

"No! Well, actually, it'd be very silly for me to run off to Arthur. I'd be the biggest hypocrite."

"Oh?" You pursed your lips, parroting his word back at him.

Merlin merely raised his hand and the flame grew back where it had been. He used magic, just as you had done.

"That's vexing." You commented. "How could one of Arthur's closest friends keep such a big secret?"

Merlin reddened.

"I do it so he won't have to make that choice, to let me live or break the law. I wouldn't want to put him in that situation."

"I see." Such a thing would never happen in Lysa's kingdom. Perhaps Arthur had as much to learn from you as you did from him.

"Do you really protect magic users in your kingdom?" Merlin burst out asking, as if the question had been bothering him all day.

"Of course. They're people too, and have every right to be." You told him firmly. Aunt Lysa told you the same thing when you were young, frightened of the unknown.

"I've been told magic has no place in Camelot. D'you think that's true?"

"Well, you're here and I'm here and we both have magic, so I'd say that there is a place here."

The next few days quickly turned into weeks and then months while you were amidst a whirl of funerary preparations and beyond. There was no way you could successfully take Lysa's body back to be burned in her home kingdom, so Arthur graciously built her a pyre worthy of a queen. You were the one to light the torch, making a big show of doing it with flint and stone when you really just used your magic. It felt better that way, more elemental and natural.

As you watched the flames lick at the sky, you couldn't help but feel more alone than you ever had, even with Arthur on one side and Merlin at the other. Lysa, your last living family member, was gone and she left you enough responsibility for a lifetime. Too much, even.

How on earth could you rule without her?

Arthur had graciously advocated for your coronation ceremony to be held in Camelot, rather than returning all the way home to be legally allowed to rule and then coming back to finally get on with the peace treaties. You didn't want any more delays.

You requested that the ceremony be brief and austere. Out of respect for Lysa, it was done. No banquet was arranged, no orchestra merrily playing. Arthur, being the highest power in the kingdom, was the one to formally crown you. There was no one from Lysa's kingdom of a reputable stature to do it, so it had to be him. As you knelt before him, listening to the bland words of politics and formal sanctions, he lowered the crown onto your head.

The weight of it startled you.

It was cold, and heavy, and so unlike anything you'd expected. You remained kneeling, staring at the floor and simply allowing yourself to feel. Gods, you felt this gnawing emptiness inside. The floor hurt your knees, the crown hurt your head, the circumstances hurt... everything.

"Y/N?" Arthur gently prompted. There were no spectators, no one but Merlin, there to gasp at the breach of decorum. It was just the three of you.

"Are you alright?" Camelot's king asked the new queen.

"I don't know." You replied in a halting voice, straightening up. Arthur's hand was immediately there offering assistance and you gladly took it.

"Is your crown this uncomfortable too?" You asked. Arthur laughed heartily, nodding.

"It's unbearable." He agreed.

Following dinner that evening, you cornered Merlin in your chambers when he visited, more by habit now than anything else. You were seated staring out the window and Merlin was puttering around with the fireplace, adjusting the decorative objects on the mantle out of boredom.

"Merlin, I need your help." You lowered your voice, looking out into the courtyard below.

"Yeah?" He replied casually. Even to a Queen his manners were still the same. You wouldn't have it any other way. Turning to face him, you twisted your fingers together in your lap.

"I need a distraction." You said.

"Oh?" He replied, brushing his hands on his trousers and crossing the room to the window in a few long strides. "How can I help?"

"Make me stop thinking." You looked up at him helplessly.

As if the words were a gods-given command, Merlin snapped into action and his lips were on yours in an instant, a hand wound possessively in your hair. For a moment, it was everything. It was the press of his body against yours, it was the smell of his skin, it was the taste of his lips. After that moment it all cleared away and it was a blissful nothingness that took its place.

The steadfast, proper queen you had become was able to rest, to walk away, leaving behind the person with desires and needs. You grabbed and you took what you needed, decorum be damned.

Skin sweaty and bare, you tangled in each other's arms and let the candles burn themselves out. In the quietest hours of the night was your mind the most active. Fears and anxieties about the future crept in.

"Merlin," you whispered into the darkness, "I don't know how to rule a kingdom."

"If it's any consolation," came his response, "I don't either."

You grinned sheepishly, staring up in the general direction of the cieling. Merlin rolled over so that he could kiss the bare skin on your shoulder, lips warm on cool flesh. You absentmindedly combed your fingers through his hair, and he rested his head next to yours on the pillow.

"But you're not a queen. You don't have to rule." You continued, pursuing your lips. Surely by now news had already traveled home that Lysa was dead. How on earth will they react when you return? Alone?

"True," he considered, feeling the weight of the word on his tongue. What did it mean to rule? Arthur certainly wouldn't be sitting on the throne if it weren't for Merlin, so did that make him a ruler, too? Merlin wrinkled his nose. God, he hoped not.

"The success of a king--or queen--is as much dependent on their subjects as their prowess in ruling." He said thoughtfully.

"How philosophical of you." You rolled your eyes.

"I suppose you'll just have to take it one day at a time. Start with these peace treaties. No. Start with just one. One treaty. One doctrine. Then the next." Merlin kissed your forehead.

"I suppose so." You replied, feeling at peace for the first time since before you left Lysa's kingdom.

So here’s a thing that happened, tumblr.

Many moons ago, I was in the Neuro ICU for a while. I was actually in there twice--for a week at first, then out, then in again for about two weeks. In between: “Nothing’s wrong! It’s resolved!” As you might imagine, given the spoiler there about how I went to the Neuro ICU twice: in fact, Something was wrong, and it was not resolved (then).

(it is resolved now, thank you)

This post is not actually ABOUT that, but we must start there, out of order.

This is a post about art and rivers and boys in cars. But we start in the Neuro ICU.

I don’t like talking about this time in my life. I would have been skittish and mysterious ANYWAY--I was raised like that--but I’m extra skittish and vague about my timeline because I don’t want to talk about it, you know? I survived something I had no business surviving. I had to relearn how to walk. That took months and that was the easy part. Because I am a big tiddy goth girl, and because I was very young then, people love to assume that the problem was drugs, and I did it to myself, as if that somehow makes anything less tragic.

I was 23 years old with a brain bleed due to a congenital defect, and even at the time, I had to defend myself: no, I’m not on drugs, I don’t do drugs, I didn’t do coke, I’ve never done coke.

I am also Colombian, which, I suppose, might play into their calculus about the coke, but WHO KNOWS. I was busy gibbering and almost dying at the time, which left little energy for noticing potential microaggressions.

Is it a microaggression, I guess, when you’re dying? Who knows.

I have never even been drunk, tumblr. I don’t drink. I don’t smoke. I don’t snort. I never have. This is mostly because I’m a paranoid loon with an off again, on again anorexia, ya know, thing, so occasionally I get really hung up on irrational concepts of bodily purity. People think it’s a flex when I try to explain this, that I’m relishing in some kind of moral superiority. I’m not. I admitting to SEVERAL defects (“quirks”) of personality there. The eating disorder. The deep distrust: I will not be vulnerable in the presence of others, I will not dull my senses, I will not allow myself to be weak. A certain perfectionism. A certain tendency towards slow burn self harm. Grand ideas made of nothing that sometimes take hold.

My point is that this big disruptive thing happened.

I survived, which is AWESOME. And yeah, I had to relearn how to walk, and some other things, but you guys know that I do yoga and aerial silks and lyra and ran off to Thailand to train kickboxing for a summer on fighter street and I STILL do not shut the fuck up about it.

So, cool, cool cool cool cool.

And I don’t even want to talk about that part, the medical drama, the body horror, the institutional whatever. My neurosurgeon was fantastic and like a week after my discharge I was high as SHIT on prescribed painkillers my caregivers insisted I take and wrote him a gushing effusive letter about how he was MY HERO because I was ALIVE and anyway that basically makes you BATMAN, DOCTOR LEWIS, I FUCKING LOVE BATMAN.

Again: high as fuck, ok.

 My point is: I hate talking about this.

Because once you’re a survivor in people’s minds, that’s all you are. You are reduced to this one event that had very little to do with you. You are defined by this thing that happened to you.

And this isn’t even the weirdest thing that’s happened TO me! But still. Happened TO me. Not something I did. Not my action. Barely even my reaction.

But again, personality flaws. What does it say about me that I look at social norms about comfort and inwardly I snarl that I want no one’s pity?

Except I’m not actually that mean. I don’t snarl.

I just withdraw.

This is a tactic that has served me well in life a BUNCH of times. Is it always the answer? No. Is it often worth a shot? Listen. Yeah. Yeah, it is. Sometimes you flee an abusive home life because that’s the only option, and you don’t want to die. Hypothetically speaking: sometimes all you can do is run.

But sometimes you flee people with mostly good intentions, maybe.

This is all very high minded but what’s prompting me to write this isn’t exactly the upcoming (many year) anniversary of the event. It’s something way more mundane and dumb.

I have not logged into my facebook account since this happened. I never bothered deleting the account(s), either. I presume they still exist. I have no idea HOW to log back onto them, and, more importantly, no desire.

“So what?”

So, okay, back when I had my first stint in the Neuro ICU? Like, totally out of nowhere, I just disappeared from people’s feeds. (you all know I do this) Somehow part of the story got out and SOMEHOW, I have no idea how, a small group of my friends managed to independently track down the hospital I was at. And this is on next to no info, across state lines, like--I have no idea how the fuck they did it.

I also don’t fucking know who they were.

I was told, at the time. I have a vague idea of who two out of (I think) four were, or might have been. I was kind of busy at the time, with the dying.

And when I say I don’t like talking about this time: I don’t like even THINKING about it. I avoid it.

Fleeing. See?

So I don’t have a memory of the names. I don’t have memories of the memory.

“So what?”

So, I know from groups other than this one, groups less dedicated than this one, that people actually get REALLY fucking mad at you for not accepting their get better soon wishes. And like, I get it! You were very worried and I did nothing to reassure you.

I WAS BUSY.

I was busy dying. Almost dying. Not dying. I was busy sleeping 20 hrs a day. I was busy being unable to walk. I was busy re-learning to walk. I was busy relearning how to write with pen and paper and for months I COULD NOT DO IT, do you have any idea how that feels to someone who is and has always been and has always wanted to be a writer? Fuck it. Fuck you.

The initial disappearance. I am not to blame.

But then doing nothing to reach out to anybody for YEARS and YEARS--

Okay, maybe a dick move on my part.

“So what?”

So I think one of the people who managed to track me down in the hospital was my best friend from high school, a terribly sweet Brazilian boy who mostly called me not by my name, but simply: The Devil.

I dig it. Always did.

And it’s high school, right. Everybody is thirsty as fuck for their friends, one way or another. We never dated--we were both always dating or pursuing other people--but we had the typical high school bestie unresolved romantic tension deal going on.

This is important so remember it for later: the problem was not attraction. The problem was not one sided unresolved sexual tension. I had a particular thing for how he looked while driving, shades on, one arm slung over the wheel in that terribly and typically male lounging driving pose that’s probably a safety hazard.

We spent a lot of time in his car.

I didn’t drive, at the time, because my mother didn’t allow me to learn, and I got kicked out of my house and disowned when I was 17. This dude spent a LOT of time driving me places. Boys in cars is practically a genre of erotic poetry, thanks to Richard Siken. This is because boys look Cool driving cars, wearing sunglasses, pretending they’re not paying attention to you while you know they are.

So he was fun.

More importantly, I guess, the fact that he picked my ass up at like 6 AM over and over and over again for a big chunk of my senior year is one of the few reasons I managed to graduate despite being technically homeless.

He was not a morning person. I am not a morning person. He did it anyway.

Why didn’t we date, I wondered, years later, for a fraction of a second, and then I forgot about it.

“SO WHAT?!”

So I’m grown up and happy and fulfilled and in a lovely long term relationship (remember! we’re buying a house!), so it’s not about “what if?” It’s that I’m happy and grown up and I write books sometimes.

But there it is.

I write books sometimes.

Artists are constantly stealing ideas from everywhere and this is good. Artists also steal from themselves, grubby little hands on secret parts of our hearts.

So I’m writing this book, right. My Great Work. My Break Out Novel. My SERIOUS FUCKING BUSINESS book. My “this is the thing I’ve worked the hardest on in my whole entire LIFE” book.

And in this book there is a male love interest. He is a political statement. I’m writing him as sexy and heroic as possible. I want this to be the MOST attractive man I’ve ever written.

Latino. Sexy as fuck. Not a criminal. Overly responsible. Action ready, and terribly nurturing.

Hot Single Dad and Reluctant Necromancer is my masterpiece. A passionate statement and stance against the depiction of Latino men in media. A war cry to examine our own subconscious biases. A weapon raised against an unjust system.

I stole parts of him from Frank Castle. I stole parts of him from Geralt. I stole (MANY) parts of him from this one IRL hot dad former Army Ranger guy, Mexican American with a tattoo on his arm of a jack o lantern one of his kids drew. I stole parts of him from this cute Marine in my DMs who gave me story advice about guns and gear. I stole parts of him from indigenous leaders from centuries ago, from the peoples he is descended from. I stole parts of him from every man I’ve met who worked in dog rescue. I stole parts of him from myself, hiding secret parts of my heart in the male character so that no one will know.

Lovely. All good so far.

I got like two whole drafts in before I was thumbing through some printed out pages, idly thinking: how funny that I don’t have any real life, personal to me models for this guy.

All my prior male love interests, you see, are based on someone. In the werewolf trilogy, they’re BOTH based on someone--different someones. The villain, too, is jokingly referred to as the “evil werewolf ex boyfriend” for a reason.

Everybody is someone.

So how funny, I thought, that necromancer hot dad lacks any references from my own--

OH, wait, fuck--

Overly responsible brown dude with sad dog eyes drives the female lead/occult specialist around while good naturedly complaining that she’s weird as shit.

Oh, damn.

And suddenly a bunch of teensy little backstory details made sense.

Cool.

“So what?”

Bonus round of self realization: my own understanding of this time in my life radically shifted, turning, lurching, sickly rotating on a new axis.

Why didn’t we date?

Somewhere between then and now, post ICU but pre novel writing time--

This one time I overheard somebody talking to somebody else and it had nothing to do with me but sight unseen, on the other side of the stacks in a used bookstore, one dude said to another: “you know that if you were lighter, you’d have a chance with her, right?”

How terrible, I thought, and I forgot about it.

Why didn’t we date?

Because my mother told me, when I was very young, that boys from Brazil were all very wild, and I should avoid them. And she told me this so early and so plainly that I never thought to question it. When I was older she took harder stances that I easily ignored because I knew they were wrong--don’t you dare bring a black boy into this house. You’re dating a Jew? I can’t believe you did this to me. What are you going to do next, kiss a girl?

WELL, Ma, as it turns out, I mean, not til college, but yes.

But the smaller, more mild statement was so much more insidious.

I wonder if he knew. I don’t think he did. I wonder if he figured it out later. I have no idea, because we were friends when we were still essentially children, and now we are grown. Not everybody thinks about this kind of thing, and I don’t blame them.

How much damage did I do?

Does it matter?

Does he know?

I know.

I know, now, that my rallying cry against a system’s unfairness is also a cry wrenched wetly from my own subconscious depths. YOUR biases against? Yes. But more accurately: my biases against.

“So what?”

So this kind of epiphany shit leaves you breathless about it and you wanna scream. You wanna SHARE it. You must infect others with this knowledge.

But you can’t out of nowhere foist this apology on someone. That’s selfish. That’s about redeeming yourself in your own eyes AND asking someone else to confront unpleasant emotions on your behalf, even though they’re the wronged party. Selfish. Tell me I’m not a bad person, baby. Tell me I never hurt you, not even a little. Forgive me if I did. Wade through this pile of astral shit for me just to make me feel better. Reassure me. Hurt yourself for me in the here and now.

So I’m not going to do that, obviously.

“So what?”

But there’s that other part of it, right? Not the apology. The surge of emotion. The realization that all those morning drives back then added up to something deep within me, something so foundational to my concept of care and maybe even the start of something like love--the knowledge that this person gently carved some ideals for you, so long ago, so subtly that you never questioned it, never even realized, because it felt so natural, because something about it is so inherently good and right.

Despite everything--despite society, propaganda, colonialism, the prejudice of my upbringing, my own unexamined complicity, ALL of it--

Despite everything, this person taught me something so deeply about love and the shape of it, something so foundational that I built all my art on it and didn’t even see the beams of it until halfway through my most ambitious and soul bearing undertaking.

This is how you care for another, went the lesson, and I wrote pragmatic actions over words romantic male leads all the way down.

This is what love might look like, and in my own life, ever ambitious, I chose a poet talented with words and actions and good fight choreography, because I think that’s sexy and dichotomies are mostly bullshit, or at least things that happen to other people.

But I didn’t learn what love looked like from my childhood home life, obviously. How could I?

Without you, though, without you and your mirror sunglasses at 6 AM and your exasperated teasing, devil, witch, bruja, without any of those, where would I have learned? How long would it take me, to find someone who would teach me a wholesome lesson?

I’m small and cute and predators love a victim with a lack of context. I give myself and my wit some credit, but what’s pattern recognition worth if you never get any good data points?

Deep lessons.

Again: this kind of epiphany makes you wanna scream. Who to infect, with all this new knowledge?

Maybe no one. Probably no one.

But maybe, just a little, you wonder--

How would that conversation even go?

Hey, so I wrote this book--no, it’s my fifth, not my first, but thanks--so I wrote this book, and there’s this character, right, and he’s--well, hahah, I mean, he’s not exactly--I just--funny story, really--no, god, no, you don’t have to read it--it’s just--he’s just--I mean, no, you, you’re just--forget it, actually, just--

Like, what the fuck is there to say?

“I couldn’t have written this without you.”

And

“Did you check on me? When you thought I was dead?”

and

“I’m sorry I didn’t notice, at the time, that I meant anything to you.”

or is it really

“I’m sorry I didn’t realize until now that you meant something to me.”

What to do with all this emotion? Or more accurately--like rivers carve out gorges, here is the shape of something that once was. This shape will always be here. Even without a single drop of water ever again: we see the river.

What to do with the shape of all this emotion?

I consult the great Richard Siken via a feat of bibliomancy. Advise me, O Oracle. The oracle is War of the Foxes (2015), turned over blindly in my hands, opened randomly to The Worm King’s Lullaby, pg 45, verse 1:

The holes in this story are not lamps, they are not wheels. I walked and walked, grew a beard so I could drag it in the dirt, into a forest that wasn’t there. I want to give you more but not everything. You don’t need everything.

This advice is too good. I close the book.

The advice does not tell me what to do, but it’s too good. The verse reaches into my chest and carves out my heart, slices it open. Inside my heart: pomegranate seeds. Tiny jewels, fit for a dragon, snacking on garnets and rubies, and the apple of Eden wasn’t an apple, because it was the desert, wasn’t it? It was a pomegranate. Something with scales, maybe snakes. The serpent, the devil.

What to do with all this love?

I swallow the pomegranate seeds. I buy myself some time. I want to give you more, but not everything. Do you need everything? I don’t know. I don’t have it to give to you, in any case. Does it matter?

Why are you doing this, me?

Because art is messy. Art is cutting yourself open over and over again. You clean up most of the mess, try to bottle the fluids and label them nicely or deliberately misleadingly, fit for someone else’s consumption, but either way, you’re bleeding.

Maybe this urge is bleed with me or maybe it is oh, you already did.

I swallow the seeds. I buy some time.

I’m not done yet. I’m not.

Maybe all this adds up to nothing.

Maybe if I do this right, it adds up to a lot.

Maybe if I do this right it will feel real, maybe what I want is to gift the shape of these rivers to somebody else, all emotionally intimately with strangers. This is a shape that love can be. This is a silhouette you may recognize.

Maybe that’s a tribute, or a tributary.

But it’s not about you, not really, so don’t get too big headed about it. This is about Art and something like Justice. Big things. This is a book about big things, about history and dogs, history and gods, crimes and lies, slaughter and slander.

Right, yeah.

An act of faith, an act of will.

I swallow the pomegranate seeds. I buy myself some time.

It’s not harvest season yet. Not yet, not now, not yet.

If not now, then when?

When it’s ready.

There is no ready. Perfection is an illusion.

Yeah, sure, but page count is REAL.

You’re evading. That’s another word for fleeing. Do you know that?

Yes. I do.

How long will you run?

Just a little bit more. Just a little. I promise.

171. Sonic the Hedgehog #103

Freedom Fighters of the Galaxy (Part One)

Writer: Michael Gallagher Pencils: Jim Valentino Colors: Stephanie Vozzo

So for the next couple of issues, we're actually taking a bit of a break from the heavy stuff. For those who don't know, Michael Gallagher was actually a main writer for the Marvel Comics' Guardians of the Galaxy series during the 90s, and this story is a parody of it. To be clear - I usually have a policy of "if it ain't canon, I don't care" but we've covered alternate-zone Sonics before, and this is technically canonically taking place, just in a parallel zone instead of in our very own Mobius Prime. Zonic arrives to welcome us into an alternate zone for the duration of this story, a zone that exists a full millennium into the future. Mobius is by now a barely-habitable wasteland full of burnt-out husks of buildings and flames that consume the skyline. Lovely place! A spaceship descends onto the planet's surface, and Sonic emerges dressed in a black and silver suit, only to have a being who looks like Tails in a black cosplay wig jump down to him from above. Sonic begins asking how long he's been away from the planet, and when "Tails" seems confused he launches into an explanation of his recent past.

Well that sucks, man. The other being, who introduces himself as "Tailon," explains that at some point during the War of the World a thousand years ago, the Freedom Fighters lost their main champion and subsequently lost the entire war. The planet was burned and became largely uninhabitable, even killing Robotnik himself, but some Mobians did manage to survive, and Tailon is the descendant of one of those survivors. Suddenly, they're attacked by a band of "brass knuckles," which are of course robotic echidnas, and Sonic works with Tailon to defeat them. However, even more arrive, too many to fight on their own - but at that moment, another spaceship descends from above, and a group of other superpowered beings emerges.

Now, I have never actually read the Guardians of the Galaxy comics, nor do I know anything else about any iteration of the series besides what's in the first modern movie, which I've only seen once anyway (I'm not really into superheroes, sue me), but the wiki assures me that all of these guys' names and powers are based on the heroes in the comic that Michael wrote for. Together, everyone works to defeat the rest of the brass knuckles, with Michael unable to resist his usual weird penchant for making Bunnie (or rather, "Bunni") shout bizarre and mildly-offensive taunts relating to the American Civil War, and afterwards the Freedom Fighters of the Galaxy explain how they came to be after the planet was burned.

That is… incredibly depressing, what the hell? I don't know, just that shot of an exhausted and beaten-down group of Freedom Fighters walking through the smoking, ruined city streets is really sad. Anyway, despite there only being one inhabitant of each new planet, they somehow managed to populate said planets, evolving into new forms over the centuries. Bunni's ancestors gained acrobatic skills and fiery hair, 'Twan-Du's ancestors literally shaped their toupees into crests to collect solar energy (and I guess that makes them good archers or something?), Rotor-27's ancestors developed into a martial culture that prided themselves on strength, and Saleta's ancestors settled "Bluto," the planet furthest from the sun, and learned to harness the powers of light. Everything was fine, until just a few years ago, when a genocidal species called "The Shark" (which an editor's note informs us evolved from technology that the Forty Fathoms Freedom Fighters launched into space during the War of the World, officially cementing their place as the most useless and harmful Freedom Fighter chapter ever) descended upon the solar system and literally. Ate. Everyone. They just… ate everyone, man, and after they consumed all living matter on every planet (except for Mobius, apparently) they left, with only Saleta, Bunni, Rotor-27, 'Twan-Du, and Hawkhawk surviving. Thus, they formed their Freedom Fighter group, and now intend to protect the galaxy from all evil! Obviously, Sonic and Tailon are invited to join up as well, by which I mean Hawkhawk aggressively orders them to join, and as Sonic understandably balks at his rudeness, an explosion interrupts their discussion, and… this… abomination emerges from the smoke.

I don't think you guys understand just how freaking hard I lost my crap when I first saw this. I just collapsed straight into hysterical laughter and had to take a break from everything, because the sheer absurdity of a naked, silver-coated Snively riding a surfboard that says "bad boy" burned itself into my brain for all eternity and would not let me go. This is objectively one of the best panels in the entirety of this comic and you cannot convince me otherwise. Go ahead. Try to find something funnier than silver bad boy gremlin man. I dare you.

Myth Taken Identity (Part One)

Writer: Michael Gallagher Pencils: Dave Manak Colors: Frank Gagliardo

So you remember how a whiiiile ago, I said that it seemed kind of bizarre that Wombat Stu would so easily leave behind his fellows in the Downunda Freedom Fighters, without even so much as a goodbye? Well it turns out that they've actually been holding auditions to try to find a replacement member to bring their team back up to five. However, everyone who auditions is terrible, and the team resigns themselves to remaining at four for now, eventually taking to reminiscing about the "good old days" back when they first formed the group. Walt, Bill, and Guru found each other first while out wandering, and upon seeing a factory polluting the landscape they ran to check it out. There, they found a prison camp run by Crocbot, who planned to run cruel experiments on his captives, whom the three quickly freed. Wombat Stu showed up then, having been keeping an eye on the camp for some time but not having the manpower to take it down, and eagerly joined up with the other three as they press onward, trying to find Crocbot's main headquarters. On the way they met Barby, who at the time was a roaming mercenary who wanted to take down Crocbot as well, and they agreed to officially form up into the Downunda Freedom Fighters.

Alerted by the cry, the four remaining members rush outside to find one of the Mobians who auditioned for their team looking battered and worse for wear, ranting about how he and the others were attacked by the bunyip before fainting dramatically. Hey, remember how when Crocbot was unplugged all the way back in StH#61, Crocbot also mentioned something about the bunyip? There was a little tease-y textbox back then inviting people to write in if they wanted to hear about the bunyip adventure, but it had been so long I almost thought they forgot about it. Not so, however! Apparently we're finally tackling the bunyip problem, starting with finding out exactly what it is and why it's been attacking random people…

An experience in coquetry.

Let me put this sweet, swift, sharp love into prose to close a chapter that simultaneously typified what 2019 was to me and what 2020 will likely be. 

Since Thomas, Spyro was the first person I’ve fallen for. 

I realised in July 2019 (the last time I saw Thomas, hopefully ever in this life!) that he had not left me heartbroken. He had just left me broken. I came to terms with how toxic and dysfunctional that relationship had been - and that his cruelties had outweighed his kindness in large measures. I gained insight into how little I respected myself, how unhinged I was, how badly I thirst for love and attract people who feed me vinegar and say this is love! this is love! and I drink it thinking it’s wine.

I asked Spyro out two months after that epiphany. I fancied him - I was intrigued and wanted to know him. I just wanted to understand more of who he was, and that, after all, is what dating is. Things ended with Thomas back in 2018 (ended for him, I had continued to pine for much longer), and my mother had been pushing me for so long to ask Spyro out. I kept telling her that I hadn’t been ready. But after having the rose-tinted glass shattered on what Thomas and I were I didn’t want to waste any more of my time licking wounds. So I asked Spyro out in Septemeber 2019. It felt incredibly good and brave. I didn’t have any expectations - and it felt like a really wonderful ‘Year of Possibility’ milestone. To go into dating without crazy thoughts of ‘this is the one I’ll marry’ or ‘this is The One for me.’ I just wanted to know him as a complete person.

There was a lot I liked about him. A lot that was dreamy. He was forthright, he was kind, he was intelligent, he was witty, he was extroverted, he was handsome. He was very attentive. It was the first time I’ve dated someone with the same religious beliefs as me while also having a similar outlook on life as me (messy, painful, shades of grey). After the third date, he referred to me as his girlfriend. On the fourth date he was telling me how serious he was, he knew what he wanted and didn’t I, too? And I was ravenous for that kind of commitment, I jumped into it like a cool pool because Thomas had kept me in a desert for so long, refusing over and over to validate our relationship until long after it was done and he could use that against me as yet another weapon to hurt me. 

I don’t need to write about falling in love with Spyro here. I have a whole tag outlining that experience. I don’t need to dwell on the good moments because they were what they were, and they were lovely! He is the second person I’ve kissed and felt something. I had been so terrified of kissing Spyro (I remember the panic attack that persisted during the entire third date, the shaking and the babbling and the sitting three feet away from him) because I liked him so much and I was scared that I would kiss him and feel nothing. That he would become another corpse. And that would confirm that Thomas was the only person I’d ever feel a single thing for. I couldn’t bear it. 

But we kissed and it was right, it was fluttery, it was good! I wish I had kissed him more when I had the chance, even though I never let the chance pass me by. And it was life after death - I could learn to love other people and I was loveable. It was nice to pursue as much as I was being pursued. 

When Spyro said I love you for the first time it felt too soon for me. I had been planning on saying it before he left for Europe at the end of December, or even once he had gotten back (likely the latter). He still didn’t really know me and I didn’t know him well enough to use a word as heavy as love. I had this moment where I stopped him (he broke away from the kiss and said, “Can I say something-” and I knew he was about to say it. And I said “Wait. Stop.” I made him pause while I paused the TV behind us. I considered at that moment saying, not yet, not now, it’s too quick! It’s not supposed to be that quick. I had told my parents in the days before that things were moving too quickly and their protests had been ‘don’t you discourage him, his intentions are pure, don’t do anything to distance him,’ followed by my dad’s fucking timeline of when we would get engaged and married, which was a load of pressure I had not even touched on. But I knew, because I’ve refused to say I love you once before many years ago, that if I did that to him now it would be the seal of death on us dating. I had been thinking about it, I had been falling in love with him, but I wasn’t ready to say it. But in the moment, instead of expressing any of this, I said I love you too. It wasn’t a lie, it was just premature.

Love for me is never a spark - love is like the sun rising. Slow, gradual, gradients of pink until it blazes. A daily occurrence. The persistence to rise even in clouds, even in haze, even when you don’t want the next day to begin. Love isn’t just a feeling. It evolves from the feeling and becomes a purpose, it becomes your soul’s greatest drive to lay yourself down for the other. It is more than a feeling. It is attention, trust, loyalty, honesty, mutual growth and support. It isn’t just a dizzy feeling that makes your heart sing (but you would hope that feeling is mixed in there too!) 

When Spyro was in Europe, he cheated on me. He called me at the start of January to tell me. He had been out in Budapest, drunk, dancing with a girl and made out with her. Immediately following that phone call, I was in shock. But I wasn’t at all surprised. Wasn’t surprised he had done it and wasn’t surprised I had been cheated on. It was like, oh, there we are. It was bound to happen to me, of course, it was. We give and receive the quality of care that what we think we deserve - Thomas had taught me that.

He really relishes being out drinking and dancing and nighttiming. Not occasionally, pretty regularly by what he kept telling and showing me. To the point of unconsciousness. To the point of no consequence. Where he has an excuse for behaving in exact opposition to his moral code. Where he had an excuse to make me uncomfortable. When I mentioned it to him before the break up he got very self-defensive. But he later said it is his way to quell stress. And I know what that really means: his way to numb himself from dealing with facing himself. 

I have a long list of things I’ve used to numb myself in the moments where I cannot bear to confront myself - alcohol had been one of them and recently I slipped into that the day he returned from Europe, putting off dealing with the bad by getting drunk and feeling good. I’m off drinking for a while because of it. Getting drunk to let off steam is the stupidest thing in the world, it leaves you feeling worse. Cutting yourself to purge your anger, starving yourself to make yourself feel smaller, masturbating just for a continual dopamine ride, scrolling mindlessly through social media or binging Netflix is a dysfunctional way to avoid looking inward - to distract or to numb. None of those activities are bad in themselves (mm..perhaps self-harm being the exception) but using them as a coping mechanism to avoid dealing with your broken ego is problematic. And I have literally spent 2018 and 2019 working on no longer doing any of those things.

Anyway, I knew that him drinking to the point where he felt out of control (we all prefer that feeling to mastering ourselves) meant that he was not ready to be in a relationship. I had known this from the beginning, to be frank. You don’t seek an escape from ordinary life and your ordinary self, if you’re at peace with yourself and the person you're in a relationship with. I mean, unless you’re dating very casually and just want to fuck around, in which case drink and party away. That lifestyle isn’t even a big deal - most people I know in their twenties would prefer to be out partying, getting drunk, or getting high, spending money carelessly, than to do the opposite - planning with another person, setting life goals, investing in somebody else’s wellbeing and self-care as well as your own. 

He told me that he hadn’t ever been in love with me - that he had said it because he feared that I was going to end things with him. He said other things I’m not going to write down because they were too hurtful. I don’t understand why he spelled this out when I had simply given him the option of breaking up. I could analyse this until the cows come home but I don’t see the point to it. I think it boils down to this: he desired to be in love, he wanted to be in a secure and serious relationship, to live up to this idea of who he is supposed to be impressed upon him from his family and church. And then the other side of him that is not ready to give up living selfishly and singly. If he wants to continue living selfishly, I don’t begrudge that of him. I just wished he wouldn’t have committed so fast. Over the course of our dating, he had commented that the relationship would get in the way of him going out with the boys, always jokingly. But he feared he was missing out on something by setting out on a serious relationship. Whereas I know that I’m not missing out on anything I did in 2017 and prior. I am glad the distractions are over with. 

Likely, this was a big part of why he wasn’t into me. I am far too homely, too desperate to do the things that give me meaning and connection and purpose. Maybe he wanted those things from me at first before realising what that would mean parting with. He said he felt no spark with me, but I’m not sure if I believe that. If that’s the case, he lied continuously throughout the dalliance. I think he was searching for an excuse. I knew from the moment he told me that he kissed somebody else that it was his way of sabotaging things, his excuse to leave the relationship. He needed to invent a reason. I think it was less about the spark, more about us not being compatible with what our values are and where we both are right now in life. In that respect, I agree with him - we have not clicked together as two people are meant to when they want to partner up to do life together and tackle the heavy, hard things together. On paper, it would have looked perfect!

I also realise my own faults in this: I was so possessive with Thomas, but this time I was too passive. I have become so afraid of conflict that I would rather betray my own intuition. That I still have so much anxiety leftover from Thomas that I can’t yet date. I’ve already journaled a lot about the week leading up to Spyro and I  splitting up, so I won’t write about it here. I know my faults. I know where I lacked self-awareness. I treated him pretty rough in the last week. I kept spiralling back into everything that had happened last time - convinced he was manipulating me or trying to play mind games. But I don’t think Spyro is that kind of person. I think he fooled me because he was fooling himself. 

This is what I took away from it all:

1. I will be going to see a therapist. Making the appointment today. If I hadn’t had this experience with Spyro then I would never have realised that I actually need a therapist, or had the guts to see one, or considered myself worthy of care, considered my issues worthy of help. So I’m actually very grateful to him for this.

2. I should be more explicit when I start dating someone, right from the outset. I should spell out my damage and insist I that things move slowly with communication at key points. I need to suss out their values and their life goals before I even consider prising my heart open. 

3. I need to keep being brave. I am still so glad I asked him out and I’m glad for every moment with him. I’m glad we had this short-lived little love affair. It was a perfect way to end 2019 (such a gorgeous year it was), to fall in love during spring, to practice what it means to love. I’m injured from it but I know it will be fine - it just meant it wasn’t supposed to be! I’m glad it wasn’t dragged out. It opened up a door for 2020 - the year of the inner child. I have so much work to do with my inner child. I have so, so much healing to do in order to excavate my own defence mechanisms, my flaws and my faults. It was excellent to start the year having another person hold a mirror up to me through some heartbreak. I know that this relationship was for my higher purpose and I am grateful.

As always, I wish him the best but I wish myself better!

Why was Mountie Nate sauntering when he heard Lucas was running towards trouble? He should've been galloping and then some. I'd love to know your analysis of why the drama didn't work. It felt forced and fake to me. Not believable.

I’ll give you a brief synopsis of why I think drama in general doesn’t work in this series.

1. Character relationships and/or motivations are weak.

2. They film in a patch of forest that feels like it’s the size of your average master bedroom and time/distance is meaningless. 

3. There are never any consequences.

All right, so let’s start with the first point: weak relationships and motivations. Depending on the drama in question, it’s usually one or the other, but occasionally you’ll find it’s both. I gave a good example in my write-up of the Frank plotline. We didn’t think anyone would die, but we also didn’t feel like everyone was safe, either. Jesse acted as a go-between enough that we knew he was being used; we knew Frank was being watched; we knew something could happen at any moment. Sure, the actual drama was little overall (rock through window, our boys converging on the enemy, Jesse rushing in to save Frank), but there was a build-up to it, Jesse got hurt, and when threats were made, they felt legitimate enough to be a real and honest concern. By courting Abigail, Frank inadvertently made her a target.

To contrast that, Nathan and Lucas barely have a relationship at all and in fact nobody really has a solid relationship with the new guys. The worry Fiona expressed to Elizabeth wasn’t detailed enough for my liking to start (I mean, if she was like, “Look she was panicked, you could tell, and the way he ran out of the saloon…it was something serious, I know it.” we’d have something more concrete to believe in; this is the problem we had in S5 when Abigail had Bill look into the widow–more info would have made it make sense). Then Elizabeth talks to Lucas but I really and truly didn’t feel like we’d SEEN them interact closely enough to justify her acting so worried about him, or at least the way she went to get help, if that makes sense. Why not go in there like “YO LUCAS GOT A GUN I’m worried he’s gonna go kill someone”? I mean, that’s the actual concern there, not so much that Lucas is gonna get hurt.

I could go on forever but nobody knows Lucas well enough to be That Concerned about this. If Elizabeth’s concern was that Lucas was going to kill someone, maybe Nathan would have gone a little faster. :P

Which brings me to my second point. Time is an illusion in this series. What month is it? Day? Year? It was August a couple of episodes ago. What month is it now? Who knows? How can Jack have been dead over a year? How did Elizabeth find out she was pregnant and deliver a full term baby less than a month later??????

It drives me batty. I hate it. It’s not that hard to keep a timeline; they should have been doing this from the start. 

But to add to the confusion, Cape Fullerton, which would be hundreds of miles away, is somehow travelable in mere hours (or at bare minimum a day). That makes the drama here seem fake, too. Why would Lucas leave his friend back east if he’s out west and can’t get to her in a few hours at a bare minimum? What good is he? His whole history and everything just shatters with that knowledge. Are we supposed to believe he’s an actual idiot? I can’t imagine so!

So on the way back they employed something that has driven me mad since for a while, and that is Extremely Slow Horse Walking.

I could roll along on the ground faster than these people are allowed to walk their horses!!!!!!!

And the reason is because of filming and like, the ‘forest’ they film in is very small. You can see too much sky sometimes; it’s obviously just this little patch of land lol. It was the most obvious in S5 when Bill and AJ were riding double and he was walking along toward the place where they had to film the snake stuff but like at a SNAIL’S PACE. I mean it was awkward because the horse wasn’t even able to step normally.

And sure Nathan and Lucas weren’t going that slow, but they were crawling compared to how they ought to have been if they were actually worried. You’d think Lucas would kick that horse into gear and go rushing back toward Hope Valley!

Finally my third point… CONSEQUENCES: or lack thereof. It’s enough to drive anybody crazy, but it seems like people who should suffer the consequences of their actions don’t, and characters who maybe don’t deserve it as much do.

Sure, they needed Henry for more seasons so they got him out on parole lol, but we’re all sitting here like, okay but how could he get out on parole while AJ’s gotta do her time? When the reason is Because We Don’t Want to Hire Her for the Next Season it’s like…really. You couldn’t have gone with something else?

That’s a pretty minor case, though, ‘cause at least Henry faced some consequences. Heck, he had a few seasons of them if you really think about it. But on a general level you’ll notice that Abigail got away with everything she did and never put anything in danger: not herself, her relationships, her position as mayor, nothing. That’s a problem! Clara disagrees with Jesse and yeah, we know they love each other, but it still feels like a risk. Lucas and Elizabeth in the saloon… Eh. They played it up so hard and yet we ALL KNEW nobody was gonna get hurt. Not Bill, not Nathan, not Elizabeth, not Lucas. We knew the bad guys would get caught and Lucas would get his money back.

The drama falls flat and feels boring because it is. I’m not saying we should operate like Game of Thrones and start offing characters for shock value because we don’t get how to write a sociostory instead of a psychstory. But we shouldn’t ever feel that literally every character is safe from all harm. 

(And the whole town running toward the danger was stupid. The only person in that town likely to run toward trouble is Bill. Everyone else wouldn’t do that. It made the drama feel silly. Maybe if people were peeking out their front doors or something, but they ran like a mob right over there. UGH.)

Seriously, if Nathan would have been shot, we’d all be like, “Holy shit that was so dramatic!” But literally nothing happened. Of course Nathan found an easy way in! Of course the front door was unlocked! Of course Lucas failed to get the upper hand with his own gun! Of course Elizabeth and Lucas were able to overpower the guy with a little teamwork!

I mean, we had similar stuff with Bill and AJ in S4, but the difference was that the plot never pretended it was dramatic suspense. They were out there in broad daylight and the plan could have gone awry but it didn’t.

The show trying to trap you into feeling suspense only for nothing bad to happen kind of feels like a letdown! 

(S5′s Bill and AJ scenes were closer to this kind of bad drama. The script was stilted, it felt like things were cut out, and worse: when it was over Bill’s just perfectly fine. He wouldn’t be. He’d need weeks to recover from a bite like that. And that lack of ‘consequence’ (and lack of mention of it later, because surely Carson would be confided in) made it all fall completely flat. Not that it would have been good WITH it, but there was no reason not to include it in the next episode. Bill barely did anything there except get laughed at.)

I guess this wasn’t so brief, but yeah these are the reasons drama in this show tends to feel flat. They try too hard to convince you that it’s dramatic and suspenseful! And then nothing happens of import. You’re lucky if character relationships shift in a believable, reasonable manner. But there are almost never any real consequences for something happening unless they can conveniently toss a consequence out that also involves taking a character off the show or offscreen for a while.

[ENG] ZTAO on SuperELLE Winter issue 2017

*scans credit to lunchbox0502

Text under the cut  

“I was very mischievous as a kid. When I was 7 years old, I insisted on racing an uncle. He said no, but I didn’t care and started running. In the end I fell to the ground, and the back of my head hit on a sharp edge. There was no bleeding, but you can see bruises. At about 12 midnight, I suddenly started vomiting, and so my parents sent me to the hospital. Afterwards my doctor said that the injury on my head had began to put pressure on the nerves and if they had come 2-3 minutes later, I would have died or become a vegetable.”

Even though his head hurt, Huang Zitao was still smiling when he went on the operation table. And then he fell asleep. He had craniotomy (surgical operation) done, got dozens of stitches, and till now, there’s still a scar on the back of his head.

It was 8 at night, in a dressing room in Beijing. Dressed in a simple white tee and pale blue denim jeans, he sat in front of the makeup mirror, talking about that childhood story of his, all the while looking a tad tired. As he spoke he leaned towards the mirror, examining his eyes, which were bloodshot as he had been working for 10 hours straight.

However, according to what we’ve heard, despite the dangerous situation, he fell asleep on the operation table smiling.

Huang Zitao also had high fever. He was just 9 days old, and had to stay a total of 15 days in the hospital. And towards the end of 2016, he suddenly fainted at the airport. That rigorous and relentless schedule had taken its toll on his heath.

“I’ve been through a lot, including moments like these where I’m close to death. But I’ve made it through, “he said, summing it all up.

“So do you have the feeling like good fortune is bound to follow after surviving all those difficulties & hardship?” “Yes”

24-year-old Huang Zitao shows his talents unabashedly and doesn’t compromise/settle with perceived norms. His weibo id is “SwaggyTao” (note: it’s  CPOPKing-SwaggyT now) and the number of people he follows is zero. Swaggy (in slang) means cool. He likes to show his right profile, cares about his hairstyle, loves to have eyeliner makeup for stage performances, but doesn’t like always being asked questions about this or that. That is the part he is stubborn about.

He has grown and changed much in various areas too. Such as acting. “When I first came back, I didn’t want to act. But later on I found out that that couldn’t work. Being purely a singer, means that others might not necessarily know who you are. “

“Railroad Tigers” was his first proper movie. While filming in the bitter coldness of North-eastern China, he was down with chicken pox. There was a scene which was shot on top of the train, and there were a few dangerous moves that required the actor to be tied up. Each time the cloth/rope tightened or pulled on him, the sound of the chicken pox bursting could be heard. Because he couldn’t do anything to ease the itch, he cried as he was filming.

Acting helped him to truly know himself. In “The Game Changer”, he played Fang Jie, a frank, hot-blooded, sometimes brash and impulsive young man who also really valued friendship and ties. “I feel that there are certain similarities in Fang Jie and my character.”

But that sort of character also put him at a disadvantage. 2 years ago, the smear attacks on him were widespread and vicious.

The way Huang Zitao dealt with it is truly remarkable. “All those who said I wasn’t good, I didn’t respond to them directly. I wrote it all in my rap. So please, those of you who likes to vilify me, criticize me or quote me out of context, please do continue to attack me. That way I can write even better stuff for my rap.”

Since his return in 2015, Huang Zitao has released in total, 1 physical album, 1 mini EP, and dozens of original singles. He’s been recognised as the leader of C-POP. C-POP is Chinese pop, popular music that belongs to China. Huang Zitao wants to let the whole world listen to China’s music. “I’m willing to hold the flag of C-POP.”

The staff says that he’s a typical Taurus when it comes to work. He’s more stubborn, and will stand firm when it comes to things that he wants to persist on/continue with, such as making music, or maintaining his figure. For about 2 years, he essentially didn’t eat dinner so that he could slim down and look better on screen.

Compared to his hardwork and stubbornness, Huang Zitao wins over his fans more by his unpredictability. There’s such a comment on him from Zhihu (a Chinese Q&A website) :” forthright, with a natural sense of humor, ability to poke fun at himself, and is a very attractive/charming person.”

He’s very wiling to talk about the little elf videos he’s been posting on Weibo story, and is proud that he has managed to make so many people laugh. His staff revealed that sometimes when they are chatting, Huang Zitao will suddenly pat someone at the back to scare them. If he sees that everyone’s mood is somewhat down and gloomy, he’ll sing to liven things up. Because of this, when on set, all the crew likes him.

He’s also very down to earth. He’s super good at bargaining. Recently during at trip to a theme park, a staff member spent 20 bucks on rabbit ears. He said that he’ll be able to get in just 5 bucks. When fans gave him a small toy duck, he asked fans how much that cost. He then took a look and said that the price they’ve gotten it at was too high.

He carries a bit of a “idol burden” when he has no makeup on in private, but is astonishingly candid. Once when he was in the States, fans wanted to take a photo with him. His reply was “I can’t but I can go on the roller coaster ride with you once.” Another incident was in China where someone wanted to take a photo of him. He said, “Sorry you can’t, but you can secretly take one.” It’s not hard to understand why fans lovingly call him “the silly, sweet boy”.

But the 24-year-old idol already understands the price of fame. He says “Dreams are wonderful, but they are also cruel. “He himself feels that he been through more things than say a 34 year old, but his staff’s own critique of him is that, “There’s two sides to him, the three year old and the thirty year old. Right now, there’s more of the thirty-year-old present.”

He’s also very conscious/aware and feels that “there’s no need to care too much about things like popularity. In the long run, what’s going to be passed down are your works. When you have solid work, popularity will naturally follow.” That brings to mind a phrase from his book “Iteration 2.4”. “I may have had my spirits dampened by reality once, but I’m still as passionate as ever before.”

Q&A : Tearing down labels that don’t belong to me

 Q: Why do you not follow anyone on Weibo? 

ZTAO: I don’t use weibo much. Lately I haven’t been posting much of anything except on Instagram. Because Instagram is quite popular overseas, I have used it to share many music videos. I feel that hip hop culture belongs to foreigners. C-POP has not really happened in China. Right now, what I’m doing, is a good start. Many overseas folks do follow me, I have this ability.

 Q: What are the differences in the requirements for tune/lyrics, in making music for everyone versus making music solely for China? 

ZTAO: I don’t think about that that much. I just feel that if I wrote it in English, then it wouldn’t be C-POP. I’ll sing it in Chinese, and it’s ok if the overseas folks can’t understand it. Just listen to the melody. Let me tell you what is Chinese rock. I feel that it’s no longer an age whereby people looks solely at lyrics. That age has already passed.   

Q: Then what do you care about? 

ZTAO: The simplest things are the best. I don’t write about others. The things I write about are all my personal experiences, using the simplest way to express all of it. That’s my song. It’s alright that some people prefer listening to the type of songs in the past. There are also people who like me. And I feel that the songs I write, will get the attention of those born in 2000s, and possibly even the folks 20, 30 years later. I want to conquer the youth market. The new era will come. China’s music industry has been down for so long, it’s time for it to come back. 

Q: So are you a person full of positive energy in private? 

ZTAO: I have a lot of principles, which I actually rarely talk about with others. Once you’ve been through and survived a lot of setbacks, you’ll find that you’ve grown again. Now I’m 24 years old. All that I have and own, might be more than say, a 34-year-old. Hence, when a person has so much, why don’t/shouldn’t they treat others better? 

Q: What’s your attitude towards being attacked/having labels thrust upon you? 

ZTAO: Basically, I never responded to those attacks. I just used my works to slowly prove myself. I have not done anything bad, harmful or illegal. It’s all labels and things that others pin onto me. I have used at least 2 years, to tear down those labels. I believe time will prove everything. 

Q: Back when you weren’t so strong, have you had moments when you were close to breaking down? 

ZTAO: It’s never one single incident or matter that causes a major breakdown. It’s the accumulated stress, repression and all that negativity. Things that never happened somehow became a big deal, but I had not done anything wrong. That really made me feel very unhappy. 

Q: Before the airing of “A Chinese Odyssey: Love of eternity”, you seemed pretty rueful, and wrote down some reflections on life in Weibo. 

ZTAO: Actually I didn’t quite want to take on the project in the beginning. I feel that there was no need to play something that’s such a classic. I’m not really a good fit for the image of a monkey. Later on I took it on because eI felt that, regardless of how classic Stephen Chow’s take on the character is, I could make one that’s entirely my own. 

Q: We’ve heard that all that monkey fur and makeup took 4 hours when you were filming in Yinchuan? 

ZTAO: It was 4-5 hours in the beginning and gradually reduced to 2-3 hours. Had to wake up at 5 to do the makeup. It was the happiest set I had been on. The atmosphere was good. 

Q: The Monkey King has superpowers. And this is usually realized through technology in the modern society. Amongst those futuristic/technological movies, which do you like?

ZTAO: I pretty much like all of Marvel’s series, such as X-Men, Wolverine etc. The degeneration of humans begin as technology becomes more and more advanced. I feel that AI will triumph over the human brain. 

Q: That’s rather pessimistic of you. Humans have no superpowers, but as an artist, you need some, what’s your view of that? 

ZTAO: Actually I can focus on doing one thing, it’s just that my endurance’s not that great. I can’t stay on set every day for 3 months. I can’t. I need to take a break. It could be just a trip out to another event and I’ll be fine when I get back. 

Q: In the new drama “The brightest star in the sky”, you’re the lead role, producer and music producer. Why make this drama? 

ZTAO: I play a singer in this drama, and it’s similar to my own story. After I’ve made the decision to do a drama related to music, I looked over many scripts before making changes to one, forming a team etc. It feels custom made. Later on when I got set, we changed almost every scene, a lot of what’s so dead on the script came alive. 

Q: On the inside, you need to steadily build up the layers to your identity and energy. For your appearance, your makeup each time is always so attention grabbing. What are your views on make up?

 ZTAO: Makeup gives me more creativity, it also helps to refine a man’s looks, and make me more confident in myself. Each time I make the decision with my makeup artist, depending on the needs of the different events.

why did I make this (host club nysm au)

I wrote this like three months ago in my notes app after rewatching the entirety of Ouran High School Host Club and forgot about it until now, so here’s another nysm au that literally no one asked for

First of all if you haven't seen the anime Ouran High School Host Club. Go watch it. It's on Netflix and probably any anime site you can find. It is. Both the worst. And the best anime. I have ever seen in my life. Please watch it

To summarize, it's about a girl named Haruhi going to this super prestigious and expensive school for rich kids (she's on scholarship). She accidentally breaks a really expensive vase and ends up stuck in this Host Club to pay off her debt. A "Host Club" basically means a club where different types of boys entertain girls with flirting. It's ridiculous but the whole point is that it makes fun of stupid and harmful anime romance stereotypes while simultaneously having a strong female lead (who has to pretend to be a boy the whole time). It's also got AMAZING character development, a mess of a found family, rich people, too much meta, vague lesbians, and way too much fun

It literally sounds like the stupidest show but I promise it's good please watch it

Anyway

If you HAVE seen it: good. Let's continue.

Let's pretend this is also at the Eye Academy, just so I don't have to magically transport everyone to friggin Japan. Besides, the Eye Academy is already a prestigious school for rich kids and high society folks. It fits the bill pretty well

(whether or not everyone still has magical abilities or not is up in the air. the host club could be a front for teaching magic and provide constant amusement and shenanigans, or that’ll just overcomplicate everything. whatever I'll decide later)

J. Daniel Atlas is obviously president of the club and resident Princely Type (disgusting...). He is the biggest charmer in the whole damn group. Everyone fawns over him. It's awful. He's probably a junior

Henley is either another host (if the club is coed in this au) or the club's manager. Or both. TBH she basically runs the show and happens to be the coolest person there. Everyone loves her a lot. Same grade as Danny

Merritt is... okay honestly what type of stereotypical anime romance boy trope would he be? Like, does he even fit one? ... maybe he and Chase could be the mischievous, vaguely homosexual twins. God, what a disturbing though.

Wait but that's hilarious, because they have to act like that to draw in host club customers but in reality they fuckin hate each other oh my god I'm dying

Okay Jack is... the charming, rebellious kid? Oh yeah that totally works. TBH who the hell wouldn't fall for Jack Wilder

I did that a long time ago let me just say

Lula. Lula, Lula, Lula... maybe the dorky natural type, oh that so works. She and jack are in the same year (freshmen, sophomore? I'll decide later)

Obviously the Host Club is chill with any sexuality. It can be coed, or it can be just boys with Henley as manager and Lula as the girl that has to cross dress to keep her cover.

Now, what to do with Dylan and Alma...

I mean teacher supervisors aren't really a thing in the show, but it's weird to think about them as teenagers. They could be, though. They and Merritt could be seniors together. That kind of works

Dylan would be, what, the gruff but lovable type with the tragic past? Yeah sure

Alma could either be his best bud/frequent customer/love interest (if the club is just boys) or another host - the cute, sassy French exchange student that's secretly a romantic

Dude I'm really liking that idea for Alma omg

So I feel like in this au, most everyone comes from well off families except Dylan, Jack, and Lula. They're all honor students that got in on scholarship

Walter is an asshole that runs the technology club. Henley tried to go once and almost threw him out a window so she hasn't been back

His dad is a rich asshole. Not exactly any different from usual

Li could be in the Host Club too. Another exchange student trope, but he's the cool type that turns out to be a huge dork

Bu Bu is his grandmother and runs the school. Bye

Allen Scott-Frank is another junior that heads the theater club

Thaddeus can be a history teacher that secretly supports the Host Club despite being under Tressler's thumb

its basically The Misadventures of The Eye Academy Host Club and that’s it, that’s everything, I'm done, pack it up boys we’re going home

Fashion Of His Love: A Solangelo Fanfiction

Here it is, the long awaited follow up to my Solangelo fic Boys Boys Boys. This fic includes, Solangelo, College AU, bad pop culture references, gas station flirting, and millennial issues a la my own college experience. So if you are interested in those things, i hope you enjoy this!

Read the whole fic here!

Preview:

  “I haven’t even went on a date with him yet, let’s not jump the gun here.”

              “Look who’s talking, says the guy who wanted to jump his bones at the bar.”

              Nico sighed and buttoned up a slim black shirt and motioned to himself, as Hazel nodded in approval. Okay, yes. He had glimpsed at Will Solace from across the bar, and maybe in his slightly inebriated state had said something about “loving that boy so right that he wouldn’t leave the bed for a week”, but no one could prove anything except maybe the NSA agent who was probably looking at the snapchats that Hazel was sending to their friend Piper. And when Will had actually walked to the bar Nico had clammed up until that asshole has been annoying, so no harm no foul and Nico was pretending it didn’t happen.

“Holy shit Nico did you lose a fight with a brick wall?” Percy Jackson asked him as Nico rolled into the café the next day.  

               “Thank you Captain Subtly for reminding me, how could I have forgotten that my face is reminiscent of John McClane circa Die Hard?” Nico snarked back as he sank down in his seat, dropped his backpack, and opened up his coffee. He took a nice long swig of the cup.  

               “Seriously, what happened? Do I need to fight someone?” Percy asked concerned. “Do I need to draft in Reyna and Annabeth?”

               “As always I appreciate you willingness to throw down and involve your girlfriend in the ass-kicking, but don’t worry, I took care of the ass-kicking myself.”      

               “That’s not cryptic at all,” Percy said suspiciously. Nico gave up dodging the question in Percy’s raised shoulders.

               “Some douche at the bar I went to last night was slinging homophobic slurs at this guy, I introduced my foot into his mouth through his ass.”

               “That was thoughtful of you,” Percy said with a smile. “Did you at least get the guy you saved’s number?”

               Nico squirmed in his seat, and Percy’s green eyes blew out wide. Usually Percy held the Guinness World Record for world’s thickest skull, but somehow when his switch was flipped onto Optimal AnnoyanceTM he could almost smell Nico’s comfort level like a Labrador Retriever could smell a bag full of dog treats.  He grabbed Nico by the jacket and began shaking him.

               “Oh my god you totally did! You got a guy’s number, oh my god I need to call Reyna and Jason—!”

               “Percy shut the fuck up before I kill you—and why would you tell Reyna and Jason?!”

               “Because it’s nice to keep your parents in the loop, especially when their little boy is getting laid.”  

               “Jackson I am this close to socking you in the jaw.”

               For a minute they sat there together in comfortable silence. Percy smiled into his cup thoughtfully.

               “I’m happy for you, man,” Percy said quietly, with the big smile of his that still pulled at Nico’s stomach.  

               “Shut up,” Nico said before feeling his own mouth pull up. “Thanks. Just so you know, he’s way more my type than you were.”

               “That’s a low blow, bro.”  

               “Don’t wear a band tee-shirt on your first date,”  Hazel told Nico as she lay on his bed the next Friday. Nico had been looking at his tee-shirts contemplatively when his sister had made her comment.

               “It seemed to work okay last time,” Nico told her as he held the apparently offending shirt in his hands.

               “Yeah, when you got into a bar brawl. And you don’t even like heavy metal.”

               “Like I said, it worked. Also, aesthetics.”

               “Hey Edgelord, do you want this boy to be your boyfriend or not?”

               “I haven’t even went on a date with him yet, let’s not jump the gun here.”

               “Look who’s talking, says the guy who wanted to jump his bones at the bar.”

               Nico sighed and buttoned up a slim black shirt and motioned to himself, as Hazel nodded in approval. Okay, yes. He had glimpsed at Will Solace from across the bar, and maybe in his slightly inebriated state had said something about “loving that boy so right that he wouldn’t leave the bed for a week”, but no one could prove anything except maybe the NSA agent who was probably looking at the snapchats that Hazel was sending to their friend Piper. And when Will had actually walked to the bar Nico had clammed up until that asshole has been annoying, so no harm no foul and Nico was pretending it didn’t happen.

               “Will you at least let me wear my leather?” Nico asked her, exasperated.

               “Of course,” Hazel giggled, and Nico rolled his eyes and reached over to ruffle Hazel’s hair. He pulled on his jacket and stuffed his wallet and phone into his pocket. “We want you to get the second date, after all.”

               “Alright, I’m off. I’m meeting him there.”

               “Text me to let me know how everything’s turning out! Or if he’s a serial killer and you need me to go Dr. Reid on him.”

               “Okay, alright,” Nico said as he reached over to press a kiss to Hazel’s head.  “Have a good night and if Frank gets handsy know that I’m watching, always.”

               “We’ve been going out for two years—!”  

               Nico shut the door and snickered to himself, before walking down the flight of stairs.

               The restaurant Nico and Will were meeting at was just off campus, and it was a nice enough night that Nico didn’t mind the walk. However when Nico got there, he found Will sitting outside the restaurant with a sheepish expression as Nico noted the overflow and crowd of people.

               “What the hell—“ Nico started as Will gave him an apologetic grin that flashed brightly with the light from the passing cars.  

               “Yeah, like, two parties of ten people are trying to get in, and they don’t take reservations,” Will explained as he stood up and he brushed off his jeans and Nico actually took him in fully for the first time.  

               Back in the day when Nico was thoroughly uncomfortable with the feelings that male beauty inspired, he had spent his adolescence bubbling away in a cesspool of self-hatred and teenaged angst, stunting any hopes of love from the get go. Nico had also been morning the loss of both mother and sister, and dealing with so much other hopeless and terrible shit that the idea of dealing and processing his sexuality wasn’t something he could even wrap his head around. Nico had metaphorically attempted to pull the plug, dissociate human beings from the feelings that they inspired in him, so no one would be able to take advantage of those feelings that Nico did want to have. People were awful and always wanted something from him, and Nico didn’t have any part of him that he wanted to give. If he gave himself proper distance, it was easy to deal with those pesky feelings and properly defang them so they had no weight or heat. Nico had dealt with that, grown from that. When he got to college he had finally been able to work on it, to try dating, with little success but at least he thought he had a handle on male beauty. He had at least run a decent gambit.

               And so for some reason he had been under the assumption that the heat of his desire for Will Solace on the night of the bar brawl was half due to beer-goggles. However, without the interference of alcoholic beverages Nico was discovering there was absolutely no distance between Nico and the most beautiful boy that he had ever seen in his entire life and somehow Will Solace was hotter sober in his jeans, tee-shirt, and rumpled flannel. There was no room to think around it, no ability for his brain to deconstruct and analyze and plan when the boy in front of him was so close and his eyes were so blue and warmth was radiating from his golden speckled skin and the curl of his hair was making his thoughts all muddled and when he began checking out the way his shirt stretched over his broad shoulders the most eloquent thought that Nico could come up with was: holy shit I am so fucking gay what the fuck.

               “So…uh…what do you want to do?” Nico asked him, rocking back on his heels, thankful that his mind-vomit was not coming out of his mouth.

               “I don’t know, I was kind of waiting to think about it until you showed up,” Will said with a shrug. “I figured we could do what we want.”

               “I’m getting the feeling that you are rather laid back,” Nico chuckled, though he felt like his mouth was full of rocks.

               “It’s all an illusion, I’m actually very uptight,” Will said with a playful wink. Oh my god, Nico thought desperately. He just winked. At me. As if I’m wink-worthy. He must think I’m wink worthy oh my god.

               “Maybe I could help with that—“

               Holy fuck shut the fuck up Nico you are literally the worst, the irrational part of his brain said as he physically swallowed and choked on his words.

               “—I mean, if you don’t mind, I know a really good pub? There are milkshakes?” Nico croaked.  

               “Are there strawberry milkshakes?” Will Solace asked very seriously.

               “Yes, definitely.”

               “Alright I’m so in,” Will said with a pleased grin before translating albeit a tiny bit embarrassed at his eagerness. And Nico took a deep breath, relieved that he wasn’t the only one with dinner-date-nerves. “I’m a pretty cheap date.”

               “Lucky for me then, since I’m paying,” Nico told him as they began to walk.

               “You don’t need to do that,” Will tried to argue in return. “I mean, you got a black eye defending my honor.”

               “It’s my pleasure,” Nico promised. “Where too?”

               That night they stayed out until it was past the witching hour, and Nico could have sworn there was magic in Will Solace’s hands as they sat on the hood of Will’s beat up car in the parking lot and talked about everything and nothing. Condensation collected in rings on the paint where they left their Styrofoam cups, the sky met the city with a halo of light as its margin, and for just one moment Nico could have sworn that this was what his whole life was leading up to as Will Solace kissed his forehead and wished him goodnight. And the next moment he wanted so much more that it scared him when Will Solace walked away.

               Hazel teased him when he couldn’t hide his grin for days when Will Solace texted him and asked about a next time.  

               “I’m telling you, Neeks, these textbook costs are killing me, I swear,” Will groaned. “I can’t even properly take you out.”

               It was about 2:00 AM in the morning, post-midterms, and Nico had found himself on the phone with Will who had just finished a late night exam at 9:00 and wanted desperately to blow off some steam. Not that Nico minded that. In fact, not that Nico would ever admit it, since their second date Nico had been waiting by his phone eagerly just hoping for another. (To the chagrin of all his friends, who threatened to out him as a complete sap but were only held back on fear of death). So they had walked down the street to the gas station on the corner past the campus and apparently the late-night sleep-deprived hyper-bubbliness was in full force as Will nearly skipped through the gas station with the very accustomed to this bodily-torture Nico who was following behind him.

               “Listen, does it look like I care that our third date is taking place at a gas station before we watch a heinous amount on Netflix with our friends being gigantic cockblocks?” Nico asked him seriously as he walked down the aisle.

               “You are doing your serious face, I can’t translate. It could mean, a. you are screwing me, b. you are being deadly serious, or c. a combination of the two,” Will told him in return as Nico rolled his eyes. “Oh, you just did that cute eye-roll thing, based on context clues I’m going to guess it’s a.”

               “Asshole, you aren’t taking a test anymore,” Nico chuckled as Will leaned down, and Nico shoved him half-heartedly. Will made a show of leaning against the honey-roasted peanuts as if he were wounded.  

               “Let’s figure out a way to game the system,” Will said thoughtfully as they walked down the aisle together. Nico’s steps stopped, and yet he tried to keep his swagger pointedly undeterred.

               “Oh really? Like how?”

               “Uh…who gets benefits?”

               “Federal workers? University employees? Married people?”

               “Nico,” Will said extremely serious as he grabbed Nico’s hands, a glimmer of humor flashing in his eyes. “Let’s get married.”

               Nico laughed aloud suddenly, and Will’s chuckles followed suit as Nico disengaged.

               “I thought you agreed with Lou Ellen,” Nico said as he picked up a bag of pretzels before discarding them with chocolate chip cookies. “The whole marriage is an institution created by the patriarchy to control women as financial incentive thing. And I do want to devour the patriarchy whole.”  

               “Sure, I hate the patriarchy as much as anyone and I wouldn’t want to get in the way of your patriarchy snack. But marriage is about commitment and love, really, when you think about it,” Will pointed out as thumbed the lip of ketchup flavored chips, and Nico moved down the aisle slowly and deliberately.

               “And since when have you met anyone who was married and didn’t hate their lives?” Nico asked him in return.  

               “Well, Percy’s mom and second step-dad.”

               “Yeah that makes such a valid and strong argument,” Nico snorted.

               “Baby,” Will groaned as he pulled Nico close, his fingers curled in his belt loop and Nico felt his heart stutter. “Baby, be sweet to me. I need you to be my sugar daddy, I need the money.”

               “I thought you like me naughty,” Nico said with a grin that pulled wickedly against his teeth.

               “Oh trust me, I do, but I like you better when you’re sweet to me,” Will chuckled, and Nico could feel him shiver as Nico slipped his hand into his back pocket, as Will reached for what he had obviously spotted on the hook behind him.

               “I’ll be whatever you want me to be tonight, if our friends leave us alone,” Nico promised with a chuckle and the way Will licked his lips made Nico’s insides go funny.

               “Be my husband then,” Will said with a smile as he offered up the ring pop between them, free of its wrapping. Nico took the cherry lollipop in his mouth, and watched as Will squirmed as he swirled his tongue over it. Nico stuck his finger through the ring and released it with an intentional pop. By that point Will’s face was ruddy.

               “Okay if our friends are going to be the witnesses,” Nico said as he admired the ring pop. He suddenly broke out into chuckles, as he allowed Will to curl his arm around his waist. “Where do you want to go?”

               “Where?”

               “On our honeymoon of course,” Nico laughed as he ducked into the next aisle and out of Will’s grasp.

               “Let’s go skiing,” Will told him as he tossed him a bag of potato chips.

               “Salt and vinegar, yum,” Nico chuckled as he admired the bag and threw it in the basket.  “And yeah, maybe when you have more than like three dollars in your bank account.”

               “Ugh, Neeks, don’t be so cruel to me!” Will bemoaned as he threw in a bag of Chips Ahoy, Cheddar Sour Cream lays, and Funyuns. “I have like, twenty bucks.”

               “Don’t call me that and maybe I’ll consider it,” Nico said as he fished a can of Dr. Pepper for Will and an orange San Pellegrino for himself. “Oh, right, don’t you have to pay like sixty bucks or something to get your marriage license?”

               “Wait, what?” Will suddenly cried in an act of dismay.

               “I guess we’ll have to cancel,” Nico said as he tried his hand at teasing him.  

               “Only postpone,” Will said in return suddenly, making Nico blink and the butterflies in his stomach flutter. And then suddenly he blinked, and his face grew redder. “Ah…I mean…”

               “I know what you mean,” Nico promised, unable to help feeling his own face grow hot.

               They paid for their purchase (and Nico made sure to tip the cashier who looked tired of everything but especially the antics they had just pulled). Will had taken the bag and it swung between them as a silence fell heavily as they managed to get back to Nico’s dorm. Nico didn’t know what to say, and was relieved when Will broke it,

               “Did I really just mess up?” Will asked seriously.

               “No, you didn’t,” Nico told him honestly as he resisted the urge to grab his phone and disengage.

               “Can I…uh…hold your hand?” Will asked, switching the bag between his hand and holding out his arm. And for some reason Nico had the feverish urge to run away, as if somehow this would make things more intimate than flirting could ever do. But he didn’t, and instead took Will’s hand. “This is nice.”

               “Are we dating?”

               The words came out in a rush of syllables, timed with the curling of Will’s warm fingers with his. And immediately, Nico wanted to bash his head into the wall for being so stupid, for blurting that out during a 2:00 AM run to a gas station with a boy that Nico desperately wanted to be with but was totally jumping the gun—

               “I would like to be,” Will told him in return before smiling shyly. “Could I…um…be your boyfriend?”

               “Yeah,” Nico said as he tried to swipe his tongue over his teeth, in order to get some moisture. But it was Will’s mouth he was really watching, waiting for those words he desperately wanted to come out, to be there for him. “Could I be yours?”

               “Yeah…I would really like that,” Will promised him, his eyes flickering.

               There was a moment between breaths, and then they kissed. Nico was pressed back against the wall, and Nico could hear sound the bag was dropped haphazardly, but it didn’t matter because he felt like his heart was going to come out of his chest. Nico wrapped his arms around Will’s neck, as Will pressed them against the wall and moaned into his mouth, and the sound made Nico’s head go all fuzzy and his knees go weak until they were forced to break apart to breathe.

               “I’m really glad you did that,” Nico told him as he turned to let the brick cool down his face, his breath still laboring in his lungs, and heat pulling lower than what was appropriate. “Because I wanted to do that since the first time I saw you.”

               “Same though, same,” Will promised as he licked his lips.

               They looked at each other and then broke out into laughter.

               “Hey, idiots, stop making out and get up here with the snacks!” Annabeth Chase called from the second story window.

               “Nice work, Will! I’m proud,” Lou Ellen said in return as she waved a handkerchief out the window.

               “I’m going to need to see his driver’s license young man!” Jason’s voice came from behind and he could hear Piper and Percy hooting behind him.

               “Screw all of you, I’m just going to stay down here and make out with my hot boyfriend!” Nico shouted in return as he yelled.

               Will’s grin was enough to make that all worth it.  

Supernatural 12x19 Spark

Okay so I get what I call sparks from Episodes/movies/etc. This is an idea I got from The Future. Sparks have a lot of holes, they are mostly plot with a few scenes.

1. Cas and Kelly find a way to stay hidden and deliver the baby. Baby imprints and bonds with Cas. Cas is his Dad. Cas and Baby are somehow driven back in with Winchesters. baby has also grown at an accelerated rate, even though it hasn’t been that long the Baby is now a child. 

             Scene: Cas and Dean made eye contact and it felt like it did every other time. The sense of longing and wonder. Happy to see each other but heart broken they’d been apart for so long. Then there were the awkward feelings about how they parted. 

       “Well Holy Shit he lives!” Dean barked first. Cas glanced back at the convenience store he had just left and to the truck parked at the pump. 

        “I’m right here Cas, say something damnit!” Dean snapped and grabbed Cas’ coat. 

        “Dean, don’t-” Cas warned him. 

        “Daddy?” A small voice called from behind them. 

        “Let go of him!” The same voice demanded. Dean raised an eyebrow, leaned his head to the side to look around Cas, and saw a small dark haired boy. 

        “Is that-Is that the kid?” Dean asked. Cas looked back at the child and nodded. 

        “Yes,”

        “It hasn’t even been a year Cas,” Dean said and let go of the angel.

       “Not here, no, we’ve spent time in other places and he’s been growing at an accelerated rate,” Cas answered him. 

        “Other places?”

        “Other worlds, dimensions were time passes differently, we came back...we came back because Josiah has seen things, predicted things,” Cas said. 

        “Josiah?” Dean asked. 

        “That is his name, when he was still in the womb he asked for an angelic name, I named every angel in heaven and that was the name Kelly picked before...she died,” Cas answered. 

        “Well, get in the car, you can explain all this to me at the bunker, we’ll get your truck later,” Dean growled and grabbed Cas’ arm. he turned the angel away from the pump but Josiah raised his hand to him. Dean stopped in his tracks when he couldn’t breathe. He felt like he was being choked. Cas looked at Dean when he stopped. He immediately looked to Josiah. 

         “Release him Josiah, he means no harm, he’s simply angry with me because he was worried about me, scared for me. Like I was when I lost you on that purple planet,” Cas knelt down to Josiahs level. Josiah looked at Castiel. 

         “Listen to his heart Josiah, what are his thoughts?” Cas told him. Josiah looked to Dean and his eyes began to glow yellow. 

         “His heart is hurt because you left, he’s angry now, but...still loves you...Is that forgiveness?” Josiah asked. 

         “It can be,” Cas said with a glance to Dean. Cas also noticed people were starting to stare and Dean was turning purple. 

        “Eyes, Josiah,” Cas whispered. Josiah immediately released Dean and Cas stood up. He held Dean as he gasped for air. Josiahs eyes glowed again and everyone around them paused. . Dean watched him him and burst into a fit of coughs. He choked and Cas held him steady. 

         “He full on Darth Vadered me!” Dean gasped. 

         “Yes, his powers grow every day,” Cas said and began to lead Dean towards the Impala. 

          “We can’t take that car, Daddy,” Josiah spoke. Cas and Dean stopped. 

          “Why the hell not? What is he doing?” Dean asked still struggling for air. 

           “He’s altering everyone's memories of this moment, They will believe you began to have a heart attack instead of-”

            “Instead of Anakin using the force on me?” Dean asked. Cas gave him an apologetic look. Everyone suddenly went back to what they were doing and Josiah’s eyes returned normal. 

            “Baby is not safe, people are listening to you, eyes are tracking you. You have them in your bunker too,” josiah said.

            “What?” Dean asked. Josiah ran over to the Impala and crawled underneath. 

            “What is he doing now!?” Dean asked and walked towards the car. Josiah came out from under the car with something in his hand. he handed it to Dean. Dean turned it over in his hand. 

            “This is a radio transmitter...for a blasting cap.” Dean said. 

            “It was on the gas tank, I got rid of the other stuff attached to it. There’s little ones that just listen inside the car and in your home. I saw the men all dressed in black with guns putting them everywhere, i know that it’s the past I saw, but I don’t know why I saw it,” Josiah said and took the device back from Dean. 

           “All in black?” Dean asked. 

           “Yes, they are listening from far away and they talk funny,” Josiah said. Held it flat on his palm. The device lifted up and then took itself apart. The pieces fell and Josiah went to pick them up and play with them. 

            “I guess that means you’re driving and we’re going to South Dakota” Dean said. 

            “To see Jody, and call Claire,tell her to come home, it’s not safe. Then Call Mom...Mary, call Mary tell her to lay low too but Mary won’t answer,” Josiah said as they all started for the truck. Dean just starred at him. 

            “You were thinking those things?” Cas asked to Dean. Dean nodded. 

            “All except that last bit,”

            “Sometime his train of thought becomes what the people around him are thinking, I don’t think he can control that yet,” Cas said and opened the door of the truck to let Josiah in. Cas then got in the drivers seat as Dean walked around to get in the passenger side of the truck.

            “Why won’t she answer?” Dean asked. Josiahs eyes lit up gold. 

            “The killer man has her, he’s been ordered to kill her but he can’t, it’s making him angry he doesn’t understand why he can’t follow the order,” Josiah said. 

          “Where are they?” Dean asked.

          “I’m not sure...I don’t know this place very well,” Josiah said. 

          “Thanks Kid,” Dean got his phone out. 

          “Use code,” Josiah told him as Cas started the truck up. Dean paused and glanced at the kid again. He finished dialing Sam 

          “Hey Sammy, I need you to meet me at Bobbys, drive through Poughkeepsie- it’s quicker, and stick to the highways this time. Also what the hell did you get into last night? You have something stuck to your shoe that tracked all through the bunker, It’s even in my car man! C’mon on!” Dean said. Sam on the other end of the line looked around the bunker nervously. 

          “I’ll see you there, gotta pick up a few things first,Do I need boots and a shovel?”

          “Yeah, you know how Frank likes things done,”

           “Alright see yah,”

         End Scene:

   Then a little bit later down the road, while waiting for Sam at Bobby’s old house. 

         Scene: Cas carried a sleeping Josiah against his chest. 

      “Is he really asleep?” Dean asked, Opening doors fro Cas. 

      “Yes, he will have bouts of endless energy and then days in a comatose state. I understand children in general do this, perhaps not on the same scale though,” Cas said as he sank down onto the old dust covered couch in Bobby’s study. 

      “Days? Mom may not have days, we have no idea where she she is!”

      “Are you really uncertain as to who has her?” Cas asked. Dean gave him an amused, obvious look. 

      “The killer man, with them men who talk funny. Sounds like the British men of Letters, whom amongst them has any experience...’getting their hands dirty’?” Cas asked. Dean hung his head. 

     “Ketch,” 

     “I imagine the Men of Letters has given up on corralling you as I had, I imagine they’ve given up on American hunters in general,”

      “And what? Declared open season on Winchesters?” Dean asked. Cas shrugged best he could with Josiah laying against him. Dean sank into an empty chair at the end of the couch. 

      “Why’d you take off again man?” Dean asked after a long silence. 

      “Same reason I always do, because I think it’s the right thing. When Josiah first make contact with me through Kelly I...it was overwhelming. He’d been hearing everyone around him planning out his evil future without consulting him. The last he wishes to do is destroy. He is truly a curious spirit that enjoys creation more than anything. Violence...he hates it. A few demons found us and cornered us. I began to fight, Josiah was terrified but something primal took him over and he turned the demons to dust.” Cas told him. 

      “Yeah, and what if that something primal decides you’re a problem?”

      “At least I won’t see it coming,” Cas offered with a smirk. Dean shook his head.

      “Dean, part of the reason I left and mostly the reason I came back was because of the things Josiah has seen, things from the future...I though distancing myself would change a few things, put you and Sam in less danger but that only changed his visions so much,” Cas explained. Dean looked at him. 

     “What’s coming Cas?”

     “Lucifer, he’s going to be freed and he’s going to come looking for Josiah and no matter where Josiah is he’s going to start that search through you and Sam,” Cas said. Dean hung his head and took a breath. 

      “How does he get out of the cage?”

      “He was never in the cage,” Cas answered. Dean lifted his head to look back at Cas. A moment passed and they both spoke. 

       “Crowley,” 

      End Scene:

Mission to save Mom and what not, don’t have all that in my head yet but there’s a moment between Cas and Josiah.

    Scene: Josiah snuggled up next to Cas. 

        “You sure you’re okay?” The child asked. 

        “Yes, Josiah, a broken nose is an easy fix even for an angel as weak as I am,” Cas smirked. Josiah looked up at him. 

       “I didn’t mean it like that,”

       “I am talking about my lack grace,”

       “Oh,” 

       They sat quietly together in the old house. Everyone was sleeping. 

        “Daddy?”

        ‘Yes?”

        “Please...don’t trust Dean...I want to leave,” He said. Cas gave him a concerned look. 

         “What have you seen?”

         “He’s going to kill you,” Josiah began to cry and grabbed Cas’ hand. Cas was shown a split moment where He was standing before Dean, an angel blade embedded into his chest., and Dean speaks ‘I guess we’ve come full circle haven’t we?’. 

          Cas took a breath to steady himself as he came out of the vision. Josiah was clinging to him and shaking. 

          “Josiah...You’ve had visions before that changed or never happened. No prophecy can make me loose my trust or faith in Dean. It’s going to be okay and besides...you’ve shown me that before,” Cas said. Josiah looked up at him. 

          “I did?”

          “Yes, before you were born,”

          End Scene:

Then it jumps way way ahead past getting mary back and Lucy being freed.

          Scene: Dean put his hand on Cas’ shoulder. 

       “So let’s go tell the little pimp squeek the good news,” Dean smiled and walked with Cas. Josiah and Sam came around the building to meet up with them. Josiah froze and pure terror crossed his face. 

       “Daddy! That’s not Dean!” He yelled. Cas felt deja vu wash over him as he turned to ‘Dean’. 

        “Cat’s out,” He said with an awkward grin. He pulled out an angel blade and stabbed him into his chest before he could defend himself. 

        “I guess we’ve come full circle haven’t we? You know, you getting punked with this old trick instead of Curly and Moe?” Lucifer laughed. 

        “What did you do with Dean? He would have never said yes,” 

        “You’re right, I even tried making him think i was you and needed a vessel to survive but he was leaving me out in the cold. Are you two okay? I hate it when Daddy and Daddy fight!” Lucifer pouted. He snapped his fingers and the facade of Dean faded away into his old vessel.

         “Here I thought you were supposed to be trapped in that meat suit,” Cas said. 

         “More or less, I still have a few tricks up my sleeve, technicalities and such, now Castiel do me a favor and die slowly,” He said and wrenched the blade back and forth in his chest. Cas gasped and collapsed to the ground. He felt back and looked up at Lucifer. He turned his head towards Sam and Josiah. 

        “Time to me my son, I’ve got butterflies, thanks for baby sitting,” Lucifer replied and put his foot on the blade, driving it completely through Castiel’s chest. 

        Sam reached out and grabbed Josiah, slinging him around to face him as there was a flash of light. Sam wrapped his arms around the child and looked up to see the scorch marks of Castiel’s wings burn into the ground.  

       “No!” Josiah fought against Sam and threw him to the side. Josiah ran for Castiel. 

       “Daddy!” Josiah cried out. Lucifer grabbed him as he came by. 

       “Howdy, Junior, it’s Papa!” He said. Josiah glared at him. 

        “You killed my Dad!” 

        “Oh no, that’s going to be lesson number one you understand!? He’s lied to you he’s not your father, I am, he’s lied to you your entire life!” Lucifer growled. Josiah shook his head and glared through his tears. 

       “No, I know exactly who you are!” He said and his eyes ignite with a bright golden light. 

            End Scene-ish:

Insert battle where Lucifer gets his ass handed to him by a child, Chuck steps in and jibes Lucifer about Kids not growing up to being what you wanted, Chuck then takes all of Lucifers grace and makes him mortal.

 ‘You keep trying to destroy the world I built, you keep trying to kill my creations, now you can spend some time amongst them and see how far it gets you. Rules are no magic, no grace, you’ll get that back when you prove you’ve actually learned something!’ Chuck snaps. 

Chuck then turns to Josiah and tells him to stay true to what he is, that he will let him live in peace if he continues to be a protector. Josiah asks him to show him how to resurrect an angel. Chuck smiles and resurrects Cas. They find Dean being held in a hell cell, crowley finds him and gets him loose. . Get to the wrap up scene.

    Scene:

    “Daddy what world should we see next?” Josiah asked. Cas smiled and shook his head as he looked over to Sam and Dean. 

    “You can go ahead if you like, I think I’m going to stay here for a while,”

    “I really want to go exploring,”

    “I understand that but I need to stay home for a while, I need my family I’ve been without them for too long,”

     “Am I your family?”

     “Yes, you are, You’re my son but you know how to find me from any world, So if you need me for any reason you can come home. You stood up to your father and won, So I no longer worry about your safety. You’re aging quicker now, not much longer until you’re mature. the infinity of the universe is yours!” Cas tried to explain. 

      “I’ll miss you,”

      “And I’ll miss you but you imagine the friends you will meet, the family you will make, then come by time to time and tell us about it, bring us souvenirs from across the cosmos,” Cas smiled. Josiah looked over at Sam and Dean, whom were now waiting for Cas by the Impala. 

      “They’re mortal, they’ll die,”

      “I know,”

      “What then?”

      “I’ll find you and tell you about it,” Cas said. Josiah nodded. He hugged Cas and Cas hugged him back. 

      “See you later,”

      “Bye,” 

       Josiah disappeared and Cas got to his feet. He walked to the Impala. Marry leaned out the backseat window. 

         “You tell my grandchild he better be home for Thanksgiving and Christmas?” She asked, giving him a stern look. Cas looked completely flabbergasted. He looked back to where Josiah had disappeared from and then back to Mary. Sam and Dean burst out laughing. 

          “Oh you’re in trouble now” Sam replied and stood up off the car. He walked around it and got in. Dean opened the back seat for Cas cas got close and Dean pulled him into a hug. 

          “He’ll be fine Cas,” Dean said to him and rubbed his back to reassure him before letting go. Cas smiled. 

          “Thank you, Dean,” Cas said and got in. Dean shut the door and got in himself. He started the engine and drove his family home. 

End Scene:

And that was a spark, not a lot to it but if anyone wants to collaborate on a fic message me. Anything could be changed, I rarely keep all the scenes from a spark but these were a series of scenes that came together and forms the skeleton of a story arc, hope you enjoyed, sorry not sorry for the long post :D

         “ 

Music Review: Mac DeMarco - This Old Dog

Mac DeMarco This Old Dog [Captured Tracks; 2017] Rating: 2.5/5 Mac has been coasting by on his inimitable charm for a while now, and for whatever reason, it still works on me to some extent — the charm, that is. It might not be worth going into exactly why — speaking only for myself — I might still be fool enough to not find it wholly undermined by the majority display of nonspecificity on This Old Dog; it might even be worth wondering if those two factors aren’t in fact intrinsically related in the context of this album, as if its prevailing superficies of blandness is some kind of extended joke in keeping with Mac’s “fun-loving” persona, “goofy” as he is supposed to be. But whatever spiny issues surround questions of authenticity and personas — and clichés — there’s still something to be said in individual cases like this, even if the topic in general and as a whole is exhausted and some care has to be exercised in its invocation (and boy does it). Here it is relevant, not least because Mac himself makes it so whether he means to or not. But before we get too much further into that, it’s more useful, for now, to try to make a brief and provisional inventory of themes, sounds, etc.: A. The most prominent subject matter of this album is the at-the-time impending death of his mostly absent father (who has since recovered, a possibly awkward — or redemptive — fact that for us must remain external to the matter at hand), and the most noteworthy thing about this is the frank way Mac portrays his ambivalence about it. This encounter with filial confusion — and not various other forms of “introspection,” like the uncertainty of getting older, weary-before-his-time stuff that have already been a feature of his work (Salad Days’s title track, among many others) — is what’s thematically distinctive about This Old Dog. It might be too soon to say that Mac will never sing about cigarettes again or that the Mac of oozy pitched-down sleaze is gone forever, but they aren’t here at least. Time to purge those superfluous watery humors by the eyes instead. B. Despite having moments that tip it toward being his most “challenging” album lyrically (if being challenging has anything to do with being serious), This Old Dog might be his least interesting instrumentally and musically. Of course, attempting to assess Mac DeMarco albums according to a metric of comparative “challenging”ness is a basic category mistake, yet nevertheless…. he’s drifting — deliberately, or just by not keeping his eyes open — closer and closer to the so-called middle of the so-called road, a dangerous zone that not many can survive unscathed. What you’ll find here is a greater predominance of acoustic guitars compared to previous albums, even a harmonica, and there’s a real acoustic piano in the background on one song (the twangy, reverby electrics that used to be something of a personal signature are for the most part relegated to providing a little unobtrusive decoration). And yet, with the possible exception of the very, very brief “Sister,” one doesn’t have the impression that he’s using the opportunities that this kind of instrumentation supposedly offer the musician (greater intimacy, humanity, spontaneity, and all those terrible things). Mac still uses his synths from time to time too, but he doesn’t seem to have found any new settings for them. As a whole, then, it’s perfect for a “chill” BBQ or perhaps for blasting out into a deserted amphitheatre overgrown with weeds on a lazy summer’s day. But those are best-case scenarios: it’s just as easy to imagine that Mac is covering his own songs in some insipidly accessible pseudo-bossa nova style in preparation for pitching them to the particular kind of cafe that, in my neck of the woods at least, seems to think its customers won’t be too distracted by such things. This Old Dog by Mac DeMarco C. Mac’s aforementioned charm rides at least partly on not giving a shit, so it’s either unfair or a misunderstanding (of whatever it was that has been responsible for giving him any appeal) to expect ambition. Still, not demanding ambition doesn’t mean expecting slackness. When he sings “There’s a price tag hanging offa half of all that fun,” I can’t say what that price tag might be for the man himself, but whatever the other consequences might be, his musical mellowing out and “maturing” might be just one of them (a high price!). And this isn’t the only aspect of the album’s descent into the commonplace. When it comes to the lyrics, the lack of (evident) artifice, the almost willful blandness — or more charitably, generality — sometimes highlights the sentiment in question, at the same time precise but unspecific (hence, recognizable and generalizable). Sure, the most effective songs here aren’t the generic love songs, the songs posed so often as a kind of advice-delivery system to younger protégé/self, and sure, there are songs that make such flagrant use of clichés (I don’t ever want to hear about a wolf in sheep’s clothing again, in any context) that no amount of irony could plausibly count as a defense. But the album’s standout track “Moonlight on the River” has the effect it does precisely by evoking what could easily seem like platitudes (“everybody dies”) in a context that is utterly frank in its ambivalence (this is one of the songs mentioned above dealing with the possible death of his father), “I’d tell you that I loved you, if I did.” It isn’t harmed either by being the longest track on the record, featuring an extended coda of spacey arpeggios that don’t qualify as ambition per se, but do qualify as something I like. We’ve all heard someone fuck around with an echo pedal or other such device, but I’ll confess to still thinking it’s cool. I won’t try to convince you that it’s new though, because it isn’t. D. A song like “Moonlight on the River” makes it seem as if Mac is more able to be sincere in a song than when acting as himself in public. It’s interesting, then, to read in interviews that Mac says he has tried to minimize the gap between the “real” Mac and the public face. I’ve no doubt he means it, but it’s easy to point out that public persona is a concept more equivocal than that might imply — it sure ain’t the same stuff being expressed in songs as it is in the actions of the public Mac. And perhaps, then, overcome with an enthusiasm for distinctions, you might want to say that the private Mac is also twofold, that there’s a real private depth that can never be plumbed as well as the way he acts in the private sphere (never mind the philosophical and political status of either form of privacy). The temptation would then be to try to pin them all together like butterflies to a board, either the same one pin slid through them all to create a neat but uncomfortable overlap or arranged carefully side by side, the better to engage in precise comparisons, to catch out inconsistencies, to perform a peculiar taxonomical game. But we would no doubt find — for Mac as for everyone else — these distinctions too are in fact too few. “Often a heart tends to change its mind,” he sings on “This Old Dog,” — a little mind for every organ, what a multiplication of homunculi! Instead of looking for a locus of control in a persona — single, solid, and probably conscious — you might look for uncharacteristically vigorous agglomerations of tissue, with all their irregular and subverbal tendencies. But without getting carried away with too much digging around in those innards, there’s another twist in the tale: the very next line of the song in question seems to invoke some kind of diurnal agency instead: “A new day decides on a new design.” So on to the outer spheres, to the celestial movements that govern those of our globe we go, contemplation of which I’m sure you’ll agree is a loftier and more edifying business than the sordid character-based speculation you’ll find here. http://j.mp/2rBOkJC

Troye Sivan Talks Finding Power in Femininity, Unhibited Second Album

Nobody is stopping Troye Sivan except for maybe Troye Sivan. No queer-averse label bosses, no identity-stifling pressure to be anything but who he is: the LGBTQ community’s precious paradigm of unapologetic, unicornian queerness.

But even with the YouTube-launched pop fixture’s steady mainstream rise, with assists from Ariana Grande on a single featured on his sophomore album, Bloom, and a live duet at a recent Taylor Swift concert, the 23-year-old’s follow-up to 2015’s Blue Neighborhood refuses to sacrifice self for commercialism.

And he won’t stop there this time, not during this album cycle (or ever): In the seductive video for the album’s first single, “My My My!,” Sivan works a room doused in the carnal grit and flashing lights of a gay bar’s seedy backroom – and also an entire street – in a blistering heat as hot as the shirtless guys feeding his desire.

He’s coy about its subject matter, but Sivan wrote an entire song about bottoming too.

I tell the South African-born, Australian-reared Sivan that “Bloom,” notably an official single, is the perfect Monday song to crank on your way to work, or at a family gathering. Its gay-sex specificity perhaps lost on heterosexuals, the anthemic send-up is concurrently a love song and the most liberating of queer secrets. Giggling, he tells me, “That was the goal.”

Elsewhere, the celebratory, spirited and brazenly gay Bloom turns the page on Sivan’s youth, which was cast with wistfulness and, admittedly, tentativeness on Blue Neighborhood, his first Capitol Records album. That same sentimental lilt – but now, with winks – also marks his burgeoning adult years captured on Bloom: losing his virginity to an older man during a Grindr hookup (the dreamlike, fraught-with-realness “Seventeen”); recognizing he’s failed his better half (the tender and winsome “The Good Side”); and a strutting, newfound sexual liberation, with “Bloom” and “My My My!”

Sivan’s transparency is hardwired: He truly can’t be anything but himself. This is clear on Bloom, but holds true during conversation, as Sivan talks about deriving power from femininity, working through residual queer issues, and dealing with the fear of shooting “My My My!” with a crew of dudes bigger than him.

WATCH:

Did you imagine you’d be answering all these questions about sex after “Bloom” was unleashed into the world?

No way. Honestly, I never would’ve thought I would have written that song. That song came out of a session that I felt wasn’t going too well. It was me and my best friend (and producer) Leland, us being like, “OK, well how do we make the most of this day? Let’s just start messing around and having fun.” And we wrote it that night – never, ever thought that it would see the light of day. We ended up with something that I thought was really, really cool and interesting and real.

Mainstream culture has come around to same-sex love, but gay sex is still taboo. Does your frankness about gay sex on this album feel radical or political?

Not really. I wanted to make music for people like me. The first album I was conscious of trying to keep things really digestible for as many people as possible. This time around I had a different set of goals, which were to really, actually, accurately represent where I feel like I am in my life. And if it’s talking about going out and partying, or if it’s talking about staying at home and cooking in the kitchen – or if it’s talking about sex – whatever it is, I wanted a 20-year-old queer person to hear this and be like, “Oh yeah, this is, like, legit.” 

What influenced you to deliver something more queer-specific?

It was having all of these really inspiring experiences and meeting all of these really inspiring people. You know, whenever I start writing music, my number one goal, always, is to keep things honest and real, because I think it’s the only way to stay relevant and stay true over a long career. I wanna be doing this for the rest of my life, and I don’t know if I’m gonna be able to be thinking about cool concepts and things like that for the rest of my life. But I’ll always be able to speak about where I am in my life, that’s always gonna be there. So I fall back on that, and I wanted to not hold anything back. It’s so cool to me to be able to celebrate all of those things I was celebrating in my real life. So, why not go for it and talk about that on the album?

When did the album’s more defiantly queer narrative begin to take shape artistically?

It was probably just the moment where I had immersed myself in the LGBTQ community. When I think about my real life, I have almost exclusively queer people around me in L.A. I’m living in this little bubble right now where I forget sometimes that it’s a thing and that there are, like, straight people in the world (laughs).

I’m sure that you’re reminded when you perform in small towns that aren’t like West Hollywood.

Right, exactly. And then I travel to somewhere like that or I’ll go home to Australia – or I’ll just read the news – and very quickly get reminded just how lucky I am and how specific my experience is. But my hope is that it’s an experience of hope for people, that they hear this and feel like, “Oh, that’s possible and I can go and live this happy and healthy and fulfilled, fun life.” And see that there is, 100 percent, another side to the world.

For some gay people, coming out doesn’t mean the personal battle has been won – there’s still overcoming sexual repression. I feel like you work through some of that on this album.

Probably, yeah. Totally. And I think just in general a lot of the residual issues that queer people deal with have also completely followed me into my older life, just internalized homophobia that I’ve held onto without meaning to from when I was, like, 13 or whatever. It’s like, “Oh no, you can’t talk about that or you can’t sing about that.” I’m doing my very, very best to actively throw all that away. It’s been really empowering.

What has been the most challenging part of navigating the music industry as an unapologetically out gay man?

Normal music industry stuff. I came into the industry at the perfect time for me, a time where people were willing to let me be who I am and say what I want and do what I want, so that’s been the biggest blessing. All that really leaves is just personal challenges of like, what do I want from my career? Am I making sure that I’m releasing the very best thing that I possibly can? And what’s inspiring to me? And do I want this to be a radio smash, and if I do, how am I gonna get there? Or do I just want this to be something that means something to people, and how am I gonna get there? It’s been fairly typical music industry stuff, which I feel really thankful for, because I think 10 years ago, it would’ve been a whole separate set of worries and issues that now feel much more intense than dire.

Is your goal to make gay radio smashes?

I actually don’t know. For me, I’ve walked this line between having a really young, active online audience – a similar audience that you would see at an Ariana Grande or Justin Bieber show – and then also wanting to do these really subversive queer pop songs. I think my approach to it is not thinking too much about what I want commercially, just letting things happen, making stuff that I like. Hopefully if I like it, somebody else is gonna like it.

When you performed “The Good Side” on SNL in January, I got lost in you getting lost in the song. For a performance like that, are you in the moment? Or does your mind tend to wander beyond the performance?

I’m mostly just in the moment. Sometimes I think about the lyrics. I try not to think about them too much because, like “Good Side,” it’s one of the most personal songs on the album and that can get kind of weird, being that vulnerable, so I try not to let myself go too deep into the hole. But in general, I’m just thinking about doing the song justice.

WATCH:

You have a role in the forthcoming film Boy Erased, starring Nicole Kidman and Russell Crowe as parents who send their child to a conversion-therapy camp. What about the film resonated with you? 

The script. I just couldn’t put the script down. It really tore at me. Then I read the book and started immersing myself as much as I possibly could in that world. My coming out experience – and the moment where I accepted my sexuality as something that I couldn’t change – was a weight off of my chest. This wasn’t for me to deal with; it was more for everyone else. I had come to the point where I had accepted it within myself, and then it was about navigating through the rest of the world: my family, my friends.

So, the thought of going to a program like the one in the film at that crucial, vulnerable moment and being told, “No, this is 100 percent back on you, and you’re filling a God-shaped hole in your life with these tendencies” was one of the most harmful and hurtful things that I can imagine. It’s been proven to be ineffective and extremely dangerous, and you’re signing these kids up for an impossible task. It really hit home and struck a chord with me, and I haven’t wanted anything as bad as I wanted this role in this movie, so I just auditioned and thankfully got the part.

Your sister once caught you in a vulnerable state, dancing to Madonna’s “Like a Prayer.” When did you become comfortable with that kind of vulnerability on stage?

It’s still really new to me. I think the “My My My!” video was a huge step for me personally; that was a moment where I really had to actively pep talk myself into it. I knew that was the way I naturally wanted to move to the song, and that was the way the song made me feel, but that didn’t make it any easier to do in a big group of people – especially with burly cameramen! (Laughs) It was scary! But when I pushed through, I felt how amazing it felt. It felt so right, and now I have to retrain my brain a little bit to be able to do that on stage and to be able to do that in front of other people.

How do you get into that mental space?

It’s a really active decision that I have to make. I have to actually think about it and push through a lot of nerves and vulnerability. And, again, the only reason I do it is because it’s what feels right to me. That’s what I would do in private. So, why the hell not do it publicly, and celebrate that?

You were scared of your feminine attributes as a child. Can you tell me about your journey to embracing femininity? And when you do embrace it now, how it makes you feel?

I was really scared of it in my childhood, and it was something that I definitely tried to shy away from. Now, I celebrate it as such a source of power for myself. I feel so liberated and free, and I’m having fun. And femininity is magical. Who wouldn’t want to be feminine?

It took me a second to get to that point, but now that I’m here it’s so fun to be able to push through all of those worries. On the other side of that is such a liberated existence where you can just do whatever you want, and it’s just been a pleasure.

How would you compare where you were to where you are now?

It’s like night and day. It feels really artistically inspiring to me, really personally inspiring. And I’m just much happier.

from Hotspots! Magazine https://hotspotsmagazine.com/2018/08/30/troye-sivan-talks-finding-power-in-femininity-unhibited-second-album/ from Hot Spots Magazine https://hotspotsmagazine.tumblr.com/post/177553844055