#I love drawing them as agents but I also confuse myself whether I want them agents in their canon or not

[tooranges]

agent doodles!! 💛💗

(from 12/2022)

[mrs-theirin]

understanding.

so uh this originally started as “hating rebecca hours”, then it was loving nate hours, and then suddenly at the last second it became.......mutually respecting adam hours??? so here we are. @magebastard this one’s for you <3

calliope langford x nate sewell / calliope & adam du mortain, 2585 words. mommy issues paired with getting to know your stuffy leader better (also on ao3 <3)

The apartment is quiet. 

Mind-numbingly quiet, actually.

“Stay home and enjoy yourself,” Tina had said, practically pushing Calliope out the door, a wide smile plastered on her face that said if you don’t go home right now I will end you. Even Verda came out from the lab to say goodbye, his gentle eyes hardened in a way that let her know there was no fighting him. 

She needs something to do. The apartment just isn’t the same without Farah’s laughter, Adam’s groans of distaste, the irritating clouds of Morgan’s smoke—which still lingers on everything she owns. Honestly, she’s going to take Morgan’s cigarettes and shove them somewhere unpleasant—and Nate’s warm, calming presence. She debates sending him a text, maybe asking him for coffee, but the idea leaves as quickly as it came. 

He’s probably busy. She’s sure he has more important things to do than—

Im bad at this texting thing. Coffee

Calliope laughs. Before she can respond, another text from Nate comes in.

That was supposed to be a question. I cant find the apostrophe or question mark. I would like to have coffee with you. 

Another text, separate from the last.

Now, if you can. I heard you were sent home from work and I know how much you like the pastries there.

Her heart races at the thought of Nate frantically typing away at his phone, confused but determined to send her a text. She must admit, it’s a hilarious image, and she laughs as she sends her response.

relax and look for the “123” on the left of the keyboard. you’ll find all your punctuation needs there. and yes, i’d love to go get coffee. meet me there?

Ah! Found it. Thank you. And no, I’m outside your apartment. 

Calliope straightens, deigning to push aside the curtain and peek out at the sidewalk. Sure enough, Nate stands awkwardly outside, staring down at his phone. His gaze flickers up as her hand makes the curtain dance, and he waves politely. She waves back. She mouths “be right there” and pulls away, cursing herself for looking outside in the first place. Did he just run here? Was he just outside her apartment when he sent the original text? Did he just assume she would say yes? 

She rushes to her bedroom, ripping the nicest—and hopefully subtle—thing she owns out of her closet and throws it on, stopping in front of the mirror to undo the messy bun she has her bright orange hair in and tussle it into something appropriate. She glances at the panicked look in her eyes, and tries to calm down. What is she freaking out for? It’s just Nate. 

I would fight through any form of technology if I knew you were on the other end.

Nate, who can make her face flush with just a few words. Nate, who towers over her, his warm brown eyes staring into her soul. Nate, who is patiently standing outside waiting to take her to coffee. She tries not to hold out too much hope that it’s a date.

“Hey!” she says when she finally makes it outside, unconsciously taking too large of a step and standing uncomfortably close to him, which she quickly rectifies by inching backwards. They both laugh nervously. “Did you—”

“I was in the neighborhood,” Nate rushes out, his face flushing. “It’s a beautiful day out.”

She accepts the obvious lie with a face full of heat. “Let’s go then.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

She loves the way he laughs. 

At Haley’s, he relaxes; his shoulders slouching, his gaze softening. He is no longer scanning every person on the street, trying to gauge if they’re a threat. He is talking and he is joking and he is smiling and he is laughing. And every time he throws his head back to laugh at some stupid sarcastic joke she makes, she melts. 

He sighs dreamily, then faces her with soft, kind eyes. “I really missed you, Calliope.”

Her heart thumps in her chest. “I missed you too. You could’ve called, you know.”

His smile fades. “I wasn’t allowed to. The Agency thought it was better if we just...left you alone for a while.”

“So I could recover?”

Nate turns away, scratching the back of his neck. “Yeah. That’s it.”

Before she can ask him to elaborate, she hears a familiar clack of heels behind her. Her body tenses. “Calliope,” her mother’s voice says, clear and professional, though surprised. She wasn’t expecting her daughter to be here. 

Calliope doesn’t even turn. Her hand clenches around her coffee and she clears her throat. “Rebecca.”

Something in her dies when she sees Rebecca take the seat next to her. It is crushed to ash as she turns to Nate, who is smiling kindly at Rebecca, ordering another pastry for her, inviting her to stay longer than Calliope prefers. Her mother hums gently. “Coffee date?” she asks, though there is something else in her voice. Something resentful. Something...cautious.

“And what if it was?” Calliope mumbles into her coffee, as Nate replies, “Oh no, just catching up.”

“You should be careful about how much time you spend in the open, Agent Sewell,” Rebecca offers, and it’s obvious why she’s saying it. Calliope begins to shake, as she always does around her mother, and washes her resentment down with her coffee. The warm liquid contrasts the coldness of her bitterness. 

It wasn’t always this way with Rebecca; there was a time where they laughed and smiled and shot each other with water guns. But eventually laughter dies out, smiles fade away, and water guns change to Glock 22s. Love changes to resentment. Dads die. 

She understands why secrets were kept. She hates that Rebecca doesn’t understand why she would be upset by the secrets that were kept. The way Rebecca’s eye twitches when Nate leans into Calliope is sign enough on its own. Can’t even be happy with the circumstances she has, apparently. 

“Of course,” Nate says, professional as always. “Understood.”

“Let the man...or, vamp, live,” Calliope retorts. “We’re just having coffee.”

Rebecca presses her lips together tightly. “Calliope. Do I need to remind you why you’ve been wearing turtlenecks for months?”

She chokes on her coffee, slamming the cup down on the counter, the paper crunching in her hand. Typical of her mother to remind her of trauma, trauma that deeply affects her, as if it’s just a statement she can throw out at any given moment, like a quick anecdote or conversation starter. How can one look at their daughter having her neck torn out by a killer vampire and think, “This will be good for future scoldings”? And her scoldings, well, of course they aren’t scoldings, they’re concerns. Worries from a concerned mother. A mother who was so concerned about her daughter that she left for years with no contact, leaving the local librarians to raise Calliope. 

Calliope tenses as she feels a hand on her shoulder, but deflates when she realizes what side the hand is on. Nate squeezes her shoulder affectionately, and she cannot thank him enough for being a rock. If Rebecca is the storm—cold, predictable, unrelenting—then Nate is the hearth; warm, welcoming, reassuring. He smiles softly at her. 

“Of course you don’t,” she finally speaks, subconsciously scratching at the scars. “But considering I’ll be working with the Agency again soon, getting coffee won’t matter much, will it? Or are you trying to say that I can only put myself at risk if I’m not having fun?”

Rebecca’s eyebrow twitches as she sighs. “I’m only trying to look out for you—”

“No, you aren’t.” Her voice is stern, but quiet. Don’t want to draw too much attention. That’s the way it’s always been, right?. “You’re looking out for yourself and your reputation as a ‘good mother’, but it’s all crap anyway. If you wanted to preserve that, you wouldn’t be begging me every 5 seconds to tell you you’re doing a good job.” 

“Calliope,” Nate gently warns, and she slowly shrugs his hand off of her shoulder. Now is not the time for another one of those sad, soulful looks he gives her when she argues with Rebecca. She doesn’t have the effort. 

Rebecca’s lips are thinned again, in that disappointed scowl Calliope’s seen so much of since this whole Agency business started. “Sweetheart,” she starts, and Calliope is already cringing away, already preparing herself for whatever pandering crap Rebecca is about to spew. “I want you to be safe.”

“But not happy, clearly.”

“Calliope Langford.” Rebecca’s voice is harsh, but it only manages to enrage Calliope more. Her mother isn’t stern often, usually grabbing for the ‘soft and meek’ route, but on the occasion she does show annoyance, it’s never a pleasant feeling. Not because it upsets Calliope, but because she knows it’s a ruse. If she holds out, her mother will give in, because they both know she can’t stand being the bad guy (despite making herself the bad guy in every single conversation they have). “This is dangerous business. I don’t want to see you hurt. I do love you, whether you believe me or not.”

Calliope stands abruptly, slapping a $20 bill on the counter. “Why don’t you concern yourself less with whether I believe you, and more with whether you believe yourself. Come on, Nate.”

She starts to walk away, but hesitates when Nate doesn’t immediately follow, out of his seat but hunched over, like a kicked, obedient puppy. A twinge of betrayal tugs at Calliope’s chest, but she waves it off, instead holding up her hand, exasperated. She leaves without another word. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The phone rings.

Once. 

Twice. 

Three times. 

Calliope sighs in exasperation, about to hit the red ‘end call’ button, when the phone finally clicks, a stern, professional voice coming through as clear as day: “Special Agent Adam du Mortain. Is this something important?”

She rolls her eyes, unable to keep the smile off of her face. “It’s just me, Adam. You don’t have to answer the phone like that.”

“Is this something important,” he repeats, though this time it’s less of a question. 

She gives in. “I was wondering if you wanted to spar. You said you were...less than impressed with my combat skills, so why don’t you teach me?”

The line is silent for a moment, before Adam lets out a small huff. “Where?” 

She blinks. She hadn’t thought of that. “...Here?” she offers, uncertain.

He sighs heavily. “Open the door.” 

The call ends and she is rooted in place for a moment before she springs up from her couch, opening the door and peeking out. Adam is standing on her stairs, looming over her, and he raises a single eyebrow, making the action of entering her apartment. She steps aside and watches him analyze the living room. “Move the table,” he says.

“You’re the one with the super strength,” she jokes, closing the door behind her. “Can’t you do it?”

He glares at her. “Are you serious about training with me?”

She straightens under his gaze, nodding sharply. “Yes,” she responds, though it comes out like a nervous question.

“Then move the table. And slide the couch away too. We need plenty of room.”

She salutes him, tying her hair back into a high ponytail. “Can do!”

He groans. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Why didn’t you call one of the others?” Adam asks, crossing his arms and staring down at the panting, sweating Calliope, who is holding onto her knees for dear life.

“Oh, you know—” she says between heavy breaths. “You’re starting to grow on me.”

“Your form is poor.”

“Oh, I know!” she wheezes. “You actually told me that, a bunch of times, like two seconds ago.”

If she didn’t know any better, she can swear she sees a ghost of a smile threatening to appear on Adam’s lips, then it’s gone as quickly as it came. He regards her with complete and utter disappointment. “They would’ve been nicer.”

“Ah, but nice isn’t what I need. I need to learn how to fight.”

This time Adam does actually smile, though it’s still not quite a full smile, more like pride over seeing a lesson learned. He cocks his head to the side. “It could also be that you’re fighting with Nate.”

She hesitates for a moment before scoffing. “I’m not fighting with Nate. Fighting would require words, of which there were none.”

Her two seconds of hesitation were enough for Adam, because he nods his head sharply, and scowls. “Figure it out. I don’t want you two at odds next time we’re all together.”

“Why?” Calliope drags the table back to its original spot, collapsing on the couch with a heave. “I thought I was a distraction.”

He joins her on the couch, his posture as formal as ever, the distance an obvious sign of something. “You are a distraction. But you’re more of a distraction when Nate is running through his mind trying to make up a list of ways he can make it up to you.”

“Make what up to me?”

“You’d have to tell me that.”

The two stare at each other before Calliope sighs, smiling. “Thank you for coming over. You didn’t have to.”

“I don’t have to do anything I don’t wish to,” he simply says, and she rolls her eyes.

“Loosen up a little sometime, huh? I think it would do you good.”

“Then you and I will have to have differing opinions.”

A knock sounds at the door, and Calliope starts to stand, but Adam takes the lead instead, gesturing for her to stay put. She doesn’t put up a fight, after all, her body is aching and all she really wants is a nap right now, maybe a 3 day slumber. When the door opens, she strains her ears to hear the soft mumbles of whoever is at the door. Adam’s voice is strong, and overshadows the meeker, much quieter voice of the person—no, woman, that’s a woman’s voice—standing at the door. A few more minutes pass until Calliope finally hears Adam say, “I think you should leave,” and shuts the door. When he returns, she gives him a curious smile. 

“Who was that?” she asks, and he shakes his head. 

“No one important. It’s late, I should leave. Goodnight, Detective Langford.”

She stops him before he can zip out. “Adam, honestly. You can call me Calliope. I promise you won’t implode.”

He hesitates, gears in his head clearly turning, then gives in, his shoulders visibly relaxing. “Goodnight, Calliope. You did well.”

“You’re lying to me!” she calls after him, and he says nothing as the door shuts behind him. She lets out a soft, incredulous laugh. Well, at least one good thing happened today. 

She heads to the light switch, peeking out of the window just for a second to try to catch a glimpse of the woman Adam had sent away. Her heart drops into her feet as she sees the car she knows too well. Rebecca sits in her car, taking a deep breath, and eventually starts it up and drives away, shaking her head. Calliope is frozen at the window. 

It was Rebecca at the door. Rebecca, who Adam...turned away? Told to leave?

She takes a moment to suck in a deep breath, letting out a loud sigh. Huh, she thinks, turning off the light and heading to her shower, eager to wash off the grime and sweat of training. Maybe he’s not so bad after all.

[countessofbiscuit]

What are your Bobasoka headcanons? I've already gone through all of the (criminally little) fic on ao3 and I especially loved Smothered and Covered, and I saw the majority of the fics in the tag were gifted to you so I'm assuming you're the OG shipper. Feel free to essay if you like!!

Thanks for the ask and kind words about that fic :3 

Oh, Bobasoka … where to begin? It’s a pairing that’s been bumping around in exchange requests for a few years — I figure it’d be easy for anyone invested in Ahsoka’s relationship with the clones to be compelled by the idea. Lledra used to draw Boba and Ahsoka interacting, and it was probably a few panels of their incredible Destinies comic that set my Bobasoka wheels turning. I’m also drawn to them because their journeys traverse so much canon; there’s not just a sandbox to play in, but a whole goddamn stretch of beach, stretching far out into the horizon ...  (#AhsokaLives #BobaSurvived :D)

I have to lead with the proviso that almost everything I write/daydream about/headcanon has a groundsheet of Rexsoka. Ahsoka’s interest in Boba, in my head, is intimately tied up with her attraction to and/or relationship with Rex — or, at the bare minimum, her intimate fellowship with the clones. She went through puberty (maybe with heats!) surrounded by a literal army of handsome, roughly college-aged dudes; that must’ve been a heady mix of heaven and hell. If she didn’t quench her thirst before war’s end and her (eventual) separation from Rex, she’d probably be pretty dehydrated when stumbling across Boba. As for Boba’s attraction to Ahsoka, well ... she’s very pretty, she’s potentially useful, she’s not likely to skewer him in his sleep (+2) on account of being a Jedi (-1), and now she’s the one down on her luck; if he falls in bed with anyone, why not this girl who isn’t afraid of him and stares a lot at his lips?                         

And Boba is like a hot shipping potato — satisfying, hard to fuck up, goes well (read: makes for an intriguing story) with almost everyone. And I think it has everything to do with his liminality, something he shares with Ahsoka and probably recognizes.          

Their neither-this-nor-that-ness overlap in such interesting ways, and they each bring their identity issues to the table — Ahsoka as an on-again, off-again Jedi; Boba as a clone who isn’t a Clone™, a Mandalorian by birth and bearing, but not by the book. At different points in their stories, they identify as different things, and that would affect their headspace and color their view of the other. They wrestle with themselves and each other. Force-user and bounty hunter; privileged topsider and orphaned juvenile delinquent fugitive; GAR commander and outcast clone; Jedi and Mandalorian; Disillusioned veteran and disaffected army brat; Rebellion agent and Imperial contractor.

And as much conflict is baked into these dynamics, it also generates a certain magnetism; and I believe they recognize, on some level, their shared trauma and the symmetry in their experiences. Boba and Ahsoka both have happy childhoods with very little to distress or vex them (beyond the art, I do not jive with Age of Republic: Jango Fett, a Disney-canon comic that not only doubles-down on the Jango-wasn’t-Mando nonsense, but shows him being rather cavalier about Boba’s life); Geonosis happens and their adolescent lives are dominated by war (which is how they came to actively threaten each other as space!secondary-schoolers — whaaaaatf!); they are both dubiously (even wrongfully) imprisoned; and they both suffer alienation and incredible personal loss.  

Boba was set apart from the clones before he was even pulled him from the jar, othered and elevated from the beginning. He never bonded with brothers, he does not identify as a clone. And while there are examples of clones making overtures to him, canonically his relationship with them is fraught and probably made worse when he gets banged up in Republic Central at the tender age of eleven or twelve — and of course, Ahsoka is an accessory to this, the second chapter in his tragedy at the hands of the Jedi. He needed help (whether he wanted it or not), it was not given by clones or Jedi alike (hamstrung by bureaucracy, sure, but surely some other means of intervention might have been lobbied for?), and Boba becomes a right teenage disaster, well-balanced only in the sense that he has a chip on both shoulders.

(n.b. Putting my RepComm hat on for a second, I can’t help but sniffle-laugh at the idea that the Alphas watched him get thrown in a maximum-security slammer and were like “Ah, there he is, the feral vod’ika. First time, we’ll let the little snot earn his stripes. Second time, we’ll bust him out and send him on a tough love retreat with A’den or Jaing.”)

Ahsoka, meanwhile, is part-and-parcel of the institutions that Boba sets himself against, even after she too has been cast out by circumstances beyond her control. She grows up in a supportive Jedi community and then spends some seriously formative years with a whole slew of brothers — brothers that should have been Boba’s! 

Boba, on the other hand, is a great example of the proverb that a child who is not embraced by the village will burn it down to feel its warmth. (As he tells Hondo, “Why should I help anybody? I’ve got no one.”) 

The resentment that must create! But also, later, the quiet empathy too — maybe when Boba’s having one of his better days and Ahsoka’s obviously not. 

And all of the above is interesting enough, without also touching upon the wildcard that is Mandalore.

Boba’s relationship with Mandalore .... well, that’s contested in- and out-of-universe and I won’t allow myself to essay overmuch. I subscribe firmly to a Mandalorian Fetts construction of canon, even though Boba must be someone who struggles mightily with Mandalorian identity. He’s raised by a bona fide Mando, a solicitous, loving father who’d have no reason not to pass on his language and beliefs; but at the same time, it takes that village, and when Boba’s clan of two is shattered, he has no one else. The loss of his dad unmoors him from his only anchor to Mandalorian culture and clan.

If Boba had been close to the Cuy’val Dar, one would think he’d have turned to them rather than fall in with Jango’s criminal acquaintances; or maybe the bounty hunters just scooped him up first, and troubled lil’ Boba was shepherded through bereavement by folks who enabled and encouraged him to externalize his anger in a way that gave him a (false) feeling of agency and strength. 

Whatever the reasons, Boba does not repatriate himself to Mandalore (much to Fenn Shysa’s melodramatic dismay). He strikes me as a lapsed Mandalorian; he doesn’t exactly follow the creed besides wearing the armor (scavenged? his dad’s sans helmet? canon is confused on this point, but he doesn’t go Mando until the unfinished arcs at the end of TCW, either for lack of stature, lack of armor, or lack of enthusiasm). I feel like if someone rocked up to Boba in a cantina and had the balls to ask “hey, so you a Mandalorian?” Boba would be like “<ominously slow helmet tilt> who’s asking” and never give you a straight answer.

Meanwhile, Ahsoka gets a crash course on Mandalore from none other than someone who, at one point, belonged to a sect that wanted to expunge Jaster’s legacy from the galaxy — and at the very least, had reason to dislike clones. This isn’t the place to explore my Boba/Bo-Katan feelings, but know that they are fathomless, and I would pay good money to be a fly on the wall of that Kom’rk when Bo-Katan gives Ahsoka Mando History 101 with her own special sauce. Ahsoka is probably more up-to-speed on Mandalore than Boba, and at one point, she may even own more beskar than him! (n.b. After the crash, I think one of the first places Rex and Ahsoka bounce is just inside Mando space, to scope out the Sundari situation and maybe try to scramble a signal to Bo-Katan; she’d have the goodwill to at least get them back on their feet if she can’t help them lay low herself. For a variety of reasons worth maybe ficcing down the line, they aren’t successful.)

I don’t really have a concluding statement except, I just think Bobasoka’s neat :) They hit all my depressed-Millennial buttons.

Headcanon by bullet-point isn’t really my style, but this is tumblr so ... tl;dr:

They recognize a lot in each other, even if they’re slow to admit it, if ever. Boba’s a cagey bastard and Ahsoka doesn’t ever like him enough to be emotionally honest.

They bump into each other during Ahsoka’s walkabout(s) ‘cause Coruscant’s Underworld ain’t big enough for the two of them. Without Slave-1, Boba couchsurfs at Nyx Okami’s garage, but he does his laundry at Rafa’s. He might even borrow the Martez’s new, useful friend for a job or two. 

Ahsoka eventually matures enough to be sensitive about her use of the Force on and around clones, and she definitely doesn’t use it around Boba. Definitely not during sex.

Boba is privately weirded out every time Ahsoka uses Mando slang she picked up off the clones or the Nite Owls.

Boba absolutely kills Cad Bane in that shoot-out, keeps the hat, and lets Ahsoka have it. She shoves it out the airlock and uses it for target practice. 

So many great smut flavours! Hatesex. Acquaintances with benefits. “You’re traumatized and touch-starved and you look just like him/them, and I know how to be gentle and what to do, so maybe we could … ?” They’re both privately comfortable with their bodies and sexuality, but Boba’s got trust issues a parsec long and Ahsoka’s lost confidence; it’s always an awkward affair, but desperation wins out.

They exchange comm codes every time they run into each other, which is kind of pointless because they both use burners.

Ahsoka hitches a ride on Slave-1 more than once. There really is only one bed, so it’s either sleep upright, sleep in a pokey prisoner hold, or sleep with him.

For a few years, Boba can pass as a last-generation clone — the ones that got sold off in bulk units to slavers before Kamino sunk another three years’ food, board, and training into them. Boba pretends he doesn’t notice, easy to really, since he tells himself his helmet is his face. But occasionally, when Ahsoka can convince him there’s profit in it, he agrees to play sleeper agent and assists in liberating a few here and there. 

They don’t talk about Aurra Sing.

When an Imp really crosses him, Boba passes on intel to Ahsoka to ruin their day.

Once, when they’re both super skint, Ahsoka volunteers to get handed in to some relatively minor and out-of-the-way Imperial garrison, so Boba can collect, bust her out, and split the pot with her. It’s the closest she ever comes to telling him “I trust you” — and when he brushes the idea aside, citing something about risk, it’s the closest he ever comes to telling her “I love you.”

Boba sees Inquisitors as muscling in on his game. There are so many lousy Force-users around nowadays, it should be easy pickings, but Inquisitors get privileged information. So he makes sport out of misdirecting them, especially from Ahsoka. 

When he pisses her off, Ahsoka fantasizes about Bo-Katan taking Boba down a peg or two while she watches :)))

Boba experienced Ahsoka’s heat once, secondhand through a cabin wall. He thought he was being clever by shooting Rex up with some Nevoota stim pollen, locking him in with Ahsoka, and hijacking their locked ships. Longest three days of his life, limping on broken hyperdrives and shared fuel stores to the nearest waystation to a soundtrack of violent lovemaking : \

Bounty hunters invariably bump into spies and agents because they work in the same areas. The agents pretend to be bounty hunters, eccentric business people, sex workers, or a range of other things. Sometimes each party knows all about the other, but it’s only polite not to mention it. This happens to Ahsoka and Boba A LOT, especially once she becomes Fulcrum; rebel cells and Imperials often want the same people. Occasionally they exchange fire. A couple times Boba gets imprisoned in Ahsoka’s own brig. Once, Boba blows her cover and definitely lives to regret it. 

(this essay was originally punctuated with pics, but replies with images won’t show up tumblr tags so ¯\_(ツ)_/¯) 

[where-theres-smoak-2]

Riverdale 5x09 Review

Well I didn’t hate this episode like I hated the last one but I wasn’t exactly blown away by it either. It wasn’t a bad episode but I think my issue with it is if you dropped it into the middles of season 3 or 4 it would have fit in. It was fine it was just nothing new which you know doesn’t exactly make me excited to watch more. It was definitely one of those episodes where I either found myself checking to see how long was left or was rolling my eyes at something. Still there were moments I enjoyed. But without further ado lets jump in. As always these are just my own opinions and interpretation also there are clearly spoilers. 

 Betty and Polly

So a good chunk of this episode was following Betty as she continued to investigate what happened to Polly after finding the crushed telephone booth. Betty hears back from Glen and is told that the blood found on the booth is a match to Polly’s so with the amount of blood that is there it is likely she is dead. When she tells Jughead he tells her that he might have a lead, someone who might have seen something. So they go to see My Dreyfuss. He tells them on two other occasions a phone booth has been shredded like it was with Polly, in the summer of 77 and 82. He explains that its caused by the Mothmen ship’s antimatter fusion reactors which create a gravity field that allows them to levitate but anything that gets caught in that field gets crushed. Which you know sounds legit to me. Though I will say I did think the look Betty sent Jughead when Old Dreyfuss started talking about the Mothmen was hilarious. Needless to say Betty wasn’t exactly sold on this version of events. Which again I found kind of funny considering she hunted down something called The Gargoyle King in high school but apparently aliens are even too weird for Betty. 

I am not at all surprised that Polly’s storyline is linking up with the Mothmen one, I’ve been saying for a while now that I thought all the storylines would converge at some point and I expected that Jughead’s and Betty’s would be the first to do that. My theory is that the Mothmen mystery is to do with military testing and that will tie in Archie as well, I also think as the Mothmen body Nana Rose had was found in the maple groves, and Hiram has an interest in the maple groves, that Hiram’s storyline will also be linked in, which will also link in Veronica and the other characters who are going up against Hiram to save the town. I did wonder if maybe its not really Hiram that wants Riverdale to be shut down but rather some rogue section of the military who want to cover up the testing they’ve been doing and that’s why Hiram unincorporated the town, maybe the military are paying him to help them. 

So in her grief at what has presumably happened to Polly has sent Betty off the deep end. Now here’s the thing with this I appreciate that not every character’s development goes in a straight line. That’s what makes a character’s storyline interesting. There are twists and turns and they have set backs. That being said this return to dark betty didn’t really work for me. I mean I can understand that she is grieving for her sister, she’s going through trauma because of TBK and all that is making her turn back to her dark side. But for me I thought they wrote a good end to that whole storyline with her going under the hypnosis and kind of telling her younger self she could go play, and basically ‘killing’ dark betty before she is ever born. I liked how, well how I thought they had brought a close to that part of Betty’s character development. I honestly thought we were done with ‘dark betty’. But I guess not. I suppose we see where they take it maybe it will be well written but I’ll be honest it did kind of make me roll my eyes a bit in this episode, I just feel like it was a bit too on the nose and predictable especially after her speech last episode to Archie about how this thing with her sister would probably be the darkest she’d ever have to face. I said to myself then watch them bring back dark betty, so when they did I was just kind of like of course they are going there again. I think that was the issue was it is just more of the same stuff which I just find boring. 

There was one thing that I did find a little interesting though and that was the way she was thinking in that moment. The idea that the person in front of her was a horrible person who had hurt someone she loved and so deserved to have justice brought to him in the form of death. Sound familiar? Because it should, its exactly the same way Charles thinks. I do wonder if that was deliberate and we were suppose to draw a comparison between Betty and Charles there. 

I think in that moment when she is about to kill the trucker, Jughead’s call telling her that Logan had gone missing reminded her of why she was an FBI agent, to protect people and I think that kind of snaps her out of it. In that moment she could have killed that man or she could go and find the missing child who really needed her and who needed protection which is what she was saying earlier in the episode, that she wouldn’t let what happened to Polly happen to anyone else. At first she decided the best way to stop anyone else from getting hurt is by going after the truckers and stopping the women who are tricking there. But her method has flaws in it and I think getting that phone call reminds her that its not as black and white as she was looking at it.   

So poor Alice, I felt really bad for her in this episode she does seem like she was very much giving up hope. I mean Alice has been put through the wringer so I don’t really blame Betty for lying about it being a match to Polly’s blood I mean it wasn’t advisable because the truth was going to come out eventually but I could understand why Betty did it, she just couldn’t bear to take away the little hope that her mother had left. I am glad that Betty turned to Cheryl for this. I said that I thought if it came out that Polly had been killed then I thought Cheryl would be the best person to help Betty through that. You know different people can help with different things and like I keep saying how I really do think Archie will be the best person to help Betty through the TBK trauma I do think that Cheryl was the best person to help Betty here. She gave her some good advice even if Betty didn’t follow it. I think it was important what Cheryl said about how it is best to know the truth because then that allows you to grieve and heal and move on. I also loved that hug Cheryl gave Betty. If anyone needs a hug right now its Betty. Also I do like when they show Betty and Cheryl actually acting like family. 

So lastly I want to cover Glen. I’ll be honest Glen and Betty’s relationship confuses me. Because in the first episode of the time jump they seemed to have something going on between them in that they kissed. But I said then that it didn’t seem like Betty was that interested in him. But since then it seems like she just doesn’t like him at all. I could understand why she was angry in this episode when he says he’s sorry about Polly and she says that if he cared that he would have done something to help. I know Riverdale are trying to paint Glen as this bad person, like how he shows up at the end and tells Alice about the blood and takes over the case. I just know that they are trying to do this because they either want Glen to seem suspicious or they are actually going to go the route of he is evil and somehow involved in it all. What I will say to that is oh for the love of god please no, not this crap again. I just if they make another FBI agent a killer in this series I just no. Can we not keep rehashing the same damn storylines over and over. Can we please introduce a character to the show and not have them turn out to be some psycho because its just boring now. Also like I said I know they are trying to paint Glen as being the bad guy here, but it makes perfect sense for them to take Betty off this case. For one she is still a trainee who is severely traumatised by her capture by a serial killer. On top of that this case involves her family member, there is a reason why irl certain professions don’t allow you to work on cases involving your family members and that scene where Betty had tied the trucker up was seriously considering killing him is why. Firefighter, police, doctors, paramedics and I am going to assume FBI agents aren’t allowed to work on cases of a personal nature for that very reason, they are too invested and that clouds their judgement. Glen should have taken Betty off the case when Polly first went missing, or rather Betty should never have been on the case at all. Also the other question I have is if Glen is here who the hell is feeding Toffee? He better have brought that cat with him. When I made my prediction post for episode 10 I hadn’t seen the episode and so was very confused at the opening shot of the promo where Betty is slapping Glen squarely across the face but I am going to assume it has something to do with this situation. Or maybe he tries to make a move on her and she isn’t down for it? Or another situation is he could find out about her and Archie’s arrangement and make an unfavourable comment about Betty which she decided to set him straight about? Either way there is most certainly going to be some tension between Glen and Betty next episode. What I do find interesting is that apparently the only actors Glen’s actor is following are Lili, KJ, Hart and Wyatt so I am assuming that he has scenes with Archie, Charles and Chic. I do wonder if instead of having Glen turn out to be bad they just have either Charles or Chic kill him. 

To be honest I am still in two minds as to whether Polly is actually dead. On one hand that was a lot of blood on that phone booth and we do know that she was in that phone booth and someone was coming for her. On the other it seemed like they were being very careful to say it was the same blood type as Polly’s and not that it was Polly’s so there is that uncertainty. I mean if they have the blood surely they would be able to DNA match it not just go off the blood type? 

Jughead and Lerman. 

Ok so I’m not hundred percent sure what the point of this storyline was, I feel like its just another piece of the puzzle and we won’t really know the significance of it until the rest of the mystery is revealed. But what did annoy me was the fact that Jughead was reprimanded for talking to his student who he was worried about. I mean when the parents were like oh if you were worried something was wrong at home then why didn’t you come talk to us instead of ambushing our son. I mean the answer to that is obvious if the parents were mistreating their son then talking to them isn’t going to do any good because the parents would just lie. Even if they aren’t really doing anything wrong like these parents they might be wary about telling the truth out of fear of being judged, I mean they didn’t offer up that information about Lerman sleep walking until he went missing, so I think talking to his student was exactly the right thing for Jughead to do. Also since when was there another English class, I mean I thought the school was struggling with staff and that's why they needed the core four to become teachers? 

It does seem like something odd happened with Lerman with him going missing and then not being able to remember anything. What is very odd is that you’ve got two sets of missing people. You’ve got the women who keep showing up dead usually with some catastrophic injuries. Then you’ve got the men who disappear for hours at a time but then return but have no memories of where they’ve been. Yet all of it seems to be connected so the question is why are the women dying but the men are surviving? It because physically the men are able to take whatever the testing is but the women can’t and so their bodies end up with these terrible injuries. Or is it that whatever they use to wipe the memories of their test subjects doesn’t work on the women so they are forced to kill them after? I mean physiologically women and men are different so maybe the difference in the hormones or something is what’s causing this difference in outcome between women and men. 

By the end of the episode Lerman and his parents have moved out of town and haven’t left any forwarding details. This does seem a little weird but I guess maybe the parents are worried about what will happen to their son if they don’t get him out of there. 

Veronica, Archie and The Bulldogs.  

Ok I know I said I wasn’t a v*rchie shipper and that as a barchie I didn’t want to see any of that, but Riverdale you didn’t have to stick them in the darkest room ever to have them kiss. Like I know that Riverdale is known for bad lighting but that one scene between them was even more ridiculous than normal. Look if you like V*rchie then that’s all good, there were some scenes that I think were probably enjoyable for you and I am happy for the V*rchie shippers. For me though I don’t know if its just because I’ve seen so much of them at this point that its made my mind go numb to them but I just found their scenes boring. I was actually surprised they didn’t talk more, especially seeing as they’ve just got back together, she’s going through a divorce, but none of that was brought up. Their scenes seemed to be really short and not much happened in them, it was just a couple of kiss scenes and then one bed scene were Veronica says oh I have a plan and then that was kind of it. I thought they’d at least have a scene where they say something like ‘I’m so happy we got back together’ or ‘I’ve filed the divorce paper’s I just have to wait for Chad to sign them’. Just anything to get that continuity, but nope nothing.    

To be honest I really wasn’t that fussed about the football storyline. I did find it kind of funny that when presented with the problem of the team losing every game Veronica’s solution was to just throw money at it, like somehow that would magically make them better players. That being said there were some elements of it that I did enjoy. I loved Archie making that speech to encourage people to support their team. It is true that having a crowd behind you and supporting you makes a difference in sports so I liked that they put some attention on that. I also love Britta and I am so happy she was the one that scored. The other thing I liked was that when the kid who was like their star player, Derek transferred to Stonewell there wasn’t any tension between him and his old team. Like I think Hiram was expecting there to be but instead when they met on the pitch he and Britta were really respectful and just fist bumped and got on with the game and I loved that. Also after, he came and spoke to Archie and again he recognised that Archie had taught him something valuable that he was going to keep with him. Again it was very respectful and supportive. Both Archie and the team recognised that it wasn’t personal, it was just that Derek knew he had a better shot at going to college with a football scholarship if he was playing with the Stallions. 

Speaking of things that I liked, lets give a hand for Reggie. I have so much respect for the fact that when Hiram was saying he wanted Reggie to basically beat up some of the Bulldog players, Reggie refused and said it wasn’t necessary. Then when Hiram fired or ‘benched’ him as Hiram put it Reggie still didn’t back down and even said that he would be standing with the Bulldogs. Also it was good to see him back in that Bulldog jacket and even though it was a very small scene I loved the three way hug between Veronica, Reggie and Tabitha. 

Ok the other thing we had was that part of the plan to raise the teams spirits was to fill the stands, which you know makes sense, like I said I do think having a crowd supporting you makes all the difference. Cheryl decides that one thing that will fill the stands isn’t just a Vixen’s performance but one that includes her. Now me personally I don’t think she’s wrong, like if I heard that the new Vixen coach who was the town recluse and had spend the last seven years holed up in her gothic mansion of horrors was going to be putting on a performance with her Vixens, I am there, front row baby. This I want to see, at best it might actually be good and at worst it’ll be a cringefest but either way it’ll be entertaining as hell. I just think that scene with Cheryl performing was peak Riverdaleness. I know alot of people complain about those kinds of scenes but me personally I think they’re part of what makes Riverdale, well Riverdale. So I just choose to embrace the Riverdaleness of it all.   

Overall I think the issue with this whole football storyline is it is once again the same thing we’ve been seeing for the last four seasons. It’s Veronica and Archie vs Hiram and that’s just nothing interesting about that anymore. 

Kevin

So Kevin got his own storyline this episode and we got a little background story on him. I’m a bit conflicted about his storyline and this idea that he is ashamed of being gay because I never really got that sense before. To be honest I always thought he was proud and confident of being gay. However I could see him having this experience with his mother where he feels ashamed of being gay when she makes a insensitive comment and then him getting into the whole cruising in the woods as a coping mechanism. It also explains why he still continued with the cruising when the Black hood was around. But then if I remember rightly he did stop for a bit. So maybe he started to heal a bit and become more confident and then that incident with the director from Katy Keene happened and that made him feel ashamed again and brought all that back up again and Fangs was away alot Trucking so he asks for a open relationship so that he can turn back to that old coping mechanism of cruising. That would make sense to me but they don’t really touch on that trauma he experienced in New York with the director in this episode. 

Cheryl acting as a relationship councillor was sort of amusing. I mean it was sweet that she wanted to fix Kangs, I think she recognised that what she did was wrong and so she wanted to help mend it. But like Fangs said the games Cheryl played just brought up deeper issues that were already there. I feel so sad for both of them. I mean Kevin is clearly struggling but I really felt for Fangs when he said that Kevin had never really been all in and that he wants to know everything about Kevin the good and bad. In that moment I could see that Fangs really does love Kevin. Also I think the fact that Fangs hit the nail right on the head with Kevin being ashamed of being gay shows that Fangs really does know and understand Kevin. I do feel like Kevin’s view on things right now is very similar to how Betty was seeing things with Archie. I think like Betty didn’t want her darkness to effect Archie, Kevin doesn’t want his to effect Fangs. Both of these views are flawed though because when you’re at your darkest that’s when you need someone to draw you back to the light. I do hope he talks this through with Betty and little because I think they could both help the other see the truth of their situations. 

The scene in the sauna was rough to watch. Kevin didn’t deserve that, it was an obvious mistake, he misread the situation and there was no need for that guy to react with violence unfortunately, its sad to say, but we live in a world where this kind of thing happens, where toxic masculinity results in males reacting with hate and violence towards gay men and that is never ok. I don’t think this helped Kevin in dealing with his shame at being gay, it most likely made it worse and that just makes me so so sad.   

I’m not gay, so Kevin’s story didn’t hit me on a personal level like I think it might have for other viewers, but his scene with Tom when he was talking about how he was made to feel ashamed of being gay really moved me to tears. I think it was a very touching scene and both actors did a good job. I am so glad that Kevin did open up to his dad. I also thought it was really good how when Tom worried that he might have done something to make Kevin feel that way Kevin reassured him that he had always been supportive of Kevin and had never judged him and I do think that is why Kevin felt he could open up to Tom. Just everything about that scene was done really well. I really do hope that he does find the courage to talk to Fangs about it though. I think Kevin does still love Fangs and its not that he doesn’t want to be with him, its that he doesn’t think that he deserves to be and that is just heart breaking. I still have some hope for Kangs though and I’m really hoping we get to see Kevin healing and working through things. I do think next weeks episode might help Kevin realise what he really wants. We know that he is in a potentially life threatening situation with a gunman in the school so maybe that makes him reflect on his life choices. Seriously though nothing better happen to Kevin. 

Little bits

Ok so these don’t really relate to any of the other sections really so I just figured I throw them all together at the end here. 

I loved that little parallel to season 1 with Barchie where Betty hears Archie over the speaker and sort of looks up at the sound of his voice. Also that shot of Betty working on the car I don’t know why but she looked really pretty, I really like her hair in that shot. 

Sticking with Barchie this one is a complaint about continuity. Riverdale seems to really struggle with this for some reason. But like I said with Veronica and Archie and how there didn’t seem to be any connection with the events of the previous episode this is the same kind of thing. Last episode Betty said she wouldn’t go through everything with Polly alone she would still go through it with Archie and yet despite there being big changes in the case Barchie didn’t interact at all. It could have been something really small like Betty giving Archie a call to let him know that Polly’s blood was a match and him offering her help, her saying no it was ok focus on the bulldogs, him telling her he was there if she needed anything. It isn’t much it wouldn’t have taken up much screen time but it would have given a link back to the previous episode. The same can be said for Minerva. Last episode her and Cheryl kissed which to me was a major development in the relationship and yet in this episode she’s no where to be seen and she isn’t even mentioned. Again Toni, where’s Toni? I thought they would at least mention something like she’s on maternity leave or something. Nope nothing. In fact the only link back to last episode we got was Cheryl talking to Kangs about the games she played causing problems for them. It’s just one of the things that frustrates me with Riverdale the lack of continuity.

No idea what this might mean if anything but did anyone else notice that when Dreyfuss started talking about the Mothmen ship his little burner with the teapot on it, suddenly the flame became higher before it went back to normal? Like there was some kind of energy in play there maybe? 

I was really glad to see Tabitha interacting with people outside of Jughead and I liked the little scenes she got with Veronica. I know Erinn said in her instagram takeover that Tabitha would be interacting with alot of the other characters too soon so I am looking forward to that. As much as I love her and Jughead’s dynamic I think it’ll be interesting to see her with others. 

Ok well that’s it for this week. I am still looking forward to next weeks episode. I do feel like this episode was a bit of a filler episode but next week looks like its going to be action packed so it should be a good watch.   

[alirhi]

chapter 17!

Title: Winter's Frost Chapter: 17/? Fandom: MCU Rating: R to be on the safe side Pairing: Loki/Bucky Summary: Loki never told anyone the real reason he became so obsessed with Midgard. Much better to let them think he wanted to hurt his brother than draw their attention to the one thing in the universe that makes the God of Mischief truly vulnerable. WARNINGS: nada. Well... Ali attempting comedy. I suppose that requires its own special warning lmao Notes: Loki's just so done lol

"I hate this plan, Thor."

"Yes, I heard you the first dozen times."

"This is the dumbest idea you could possibly have come up with!"

"We could always try Get Help."

"And use it on whom, pray tell?!"

"Thanos."

"Don't be an idiot." Privately, Loki thought he might as well be asking the Earth to cease its tireless spin, but he had to try.

Thor only smirked at him, the bastard. "Just keeping things in perspective. There's always room for a worse plan."

"...Thank you."

"What's Get Help?" Bucky didn't even glance up from the little device in his hand. Ever mindful of the terrain and unwilling to see him mess up his pretty face by falling on it, Loki was constantly moving things out of his distracted lover's path just before he tripped.

"Nothing, darling. Has Darcy sent you another?"

He grinned, holding the thing – Darcy swore it was a telephone when she gave it to him, though he'd yet to see it used for a single call – out for Loki to see. "She sent a video!"

Eira was on the screen, splashing about in a tub that appeared to contain more bubbles than water. She was having the time of her life, and both of her enamored parents couldn't help smiling like fools.

"I hate being away from her."

Loki winced, squeezing his shoulder lightly. "I know. Believe me, love, I know. But she isn't safe around these people. Better to leave her in Darcy's care until we can be sure she isn't in any danger."

"I still can't quite believe I'm a dad!" At the pure joy and wonder in his voice and on his beautiful face, his ancient lover smiled again. He still had a long way to go before he was truly recovered from what HYDRA had done to him, but it couldn't be denied that when he was happy, Bucky was the cutest damned thing.

"I still think you're overreacting," Thor grumbled as they stepped off the elevator at last. "These are good people. They'd never harm a little girl."

"Uh... Loki's not in chains. Why is Loki here and not in chains? Security!"

The God in question rolled his eyes. "Lovely to see you again, too, Stark."

Tony looked like he wasn't sure whether to laugh, vomit, or jump into one of his suits of armor. "What the hell is this, Point Break? You promised this psycho would be in a cell for the rest of eternity. And who's the weirdo staring at his phone?"

"...Bucky?!"

Thor stopped before he'd even truly begun to offer the explanation he didn't really have, mouth hanging open and one finger in the air. Confused, he and Loki watched silently as Steve Rogers practically flew across the room and Bucky slowly lifted his head, finally taking in his surroundings for the first time since they'd left New Mexico.

"Steve?" He grinned and pocketed the phone immediately to throw his arms around his friend. "Steve! Holy shit, it is you!"

"Who is Bucky?" Thor mumbled to Loki, getting an exasperated eye roll for his troubles.

He knew, of course; when they'd first met, the handsome young soldier had introduced himself as Bucky. Loki had simply refused to call him that. Still, prior knowledge or no, he couldn't resist having just a bit of fun with his brother, so he decided, in lieu of a proper explanation, to treat it as if it was the most obvious thing in the world, just to hammer home how incredibly stupid Thor truly was. "I would imagine, given the context playing out before your clearly useless eyes, that it's a pet name for James. Derived from his middle name – Buchanan – if I had to guess. Honestly, Thor, how do you function?"

"Can someone please address the unfettered genocidal psychopath standing in my living room?"

Bucky flinched, moving back from Steve and giving Tony a slightly helpless look. "That was... I was under HYDRA's thumb, I was never a Nazi..."

"Not you, darling," Loki assured him stepping between the two newly thawed WWII veterans, and more importantly, between Bucky and the confused, wary Avengers. "He's referring to me."

"Wait, what?" Steve peered around him, trying unsuccessfully to catch his childhood friend's downcast gaze. "That's where you've been all this time? With HYDRA?"

"I didn't have a choice," he mumbled, face going red as he seemed to sink into himself.

"Quite literally," was Loki's frosty interjection. He pushed the soldier back when he got too close to his Sergeant and snapped, "If anyone wishes to interrogate or criticize him, I will happily transform you into something that cannot speak nor breathe."

"Just turn yourself into an elephant," Tony snapped. "Because you are the elephant in the room right now! Thor, explain to me why your insane adopted brother and his pet Nazi are in my home!"

"I was never a Nazi!"

"I've known Bucky all my life, Stark. There's no way he'd have joined up with those people."

"Nazis, HYDRA, what's the difference?!"

"Soldat?"

All eyes immediately turned to Natasha as she approached and finally got a good look at the man Loki was trying so hard to shield. Loki grimaced. "Oh. You."

Bucky flinched, looking as though she'd just slapped him. "Natalia, please don't call me that. It's Bucky, okay?"

"Sure, yeah." She laughed, launching herself at him. "And it's Natasha now."

Her arms over his shoulders and her legs wrapped around his waist were more than Loki could bear. When he noticed that Bucky was holding her up with both hands cupping her rear, he'd more than had enough. With a growl, he used magic to pry her loose and pin her to the ceiling. "That is quite enough, Agent Romanov. I'd appreciate it if you wouldn't make me tell you again."

"Put her down, Loki." Oh, great. There was Banner, eyes wide like a frightened rabbit, but approaching him nonetheless. "Before I let the other guy put you down again."

"Doctor Banner," he ground out as he slowly and more than a little reluctantly set the struggling spy down on the floor. "Delightful. Well, I see the gang's all here. Thor, this was your harebrained scheme, so why don't you clean up this mess?"

"Happily," Thor muttered, "if you'll stop making a bigger one."

"No promises. The next person to lay hands on James will be a smear of blood and innards on the wall."

"Loki, calm down." Hugging him from behind, Bucky murmured in his ear, "I'm not going anywhere."

Making no effort at all to prevent the Avengers from hearing him, Loki snapped, "I don't trust these people."

"For the record," Natasha pointed out, "we're not the ones who tried to blow up New York a week ago."

He smirked. "Nor am I, Agent Romanov. That was someone on your side, if you recall."

"The Chitauri?"

"Oh, that. I thought you were referring to the bomb." A little, dismissive shrug, and then, "Most of the damage to the city was still done by you lot. The Chitauri were mostly just...flying around."

"Also trying to kill people."

"Loki needs our help," Thor called out, just loud enough to drown out any further conversation. The Avengers all gaped at him as though he'd gone mad. It made Loki smile. "There was another force behind the attacks last week. Someone far worse was pulling Loki's strings-"

"Really, Thor, I'm not a puppet!"

"Unless you want to explain this yourself and hope any of them listen to a word that comes out of your weaselly mouth instead of simply killing you, sit down and shut up, brother."

"Marionette, anyway." When everyone turned to stare at him, Bucky blushed. "The-the ones with strings. That's marionettes, not puppets."

With a patient smile, Steve gently chided him, "Not really the time, Buck."

"...Right. Sorry. Continue not bothering to listen to each other. I'll be over here." Out came the phone, and Bucky was lost to them all as he scrolled through pictures of Eira again.

"What's with the phone?" Loki flinched and turned; he hadn't realized Barton was in the room until then. "Isn't he a little old to be sucked into that thing while we're all talking?"

"He's looking at photographs of their daughter," Thor told him with a dismissive wave of his hand, ignoring the death glare he received from Loki for it. "Now, if we can get back on-"

"...Their daughter?" Tony interrupted, stepping forward. "I'm sorry... Who's the other half of the 'they' in that equation?"

When Thor opened his mouth to explain, Loki grabbed his arm and squeezed hard enough to make him gasp. "I will kill you."

"And then they will kill you, and the world will end when there's no one to warn them about Thanos, and James and Eira will be left unprotected, likely to suffer horribly and die."

With a frustrated growl, Loki released him and, briefly, shifted to his female form. "I am, alright? Everyone's burning curiosity satisfied?" Shifting back, he took advantage of the stunned silence that had taken hold of the room and snapped, "There is a mad Titan with the ability to mind-control a God out there attempting to collect the most powerful artifacts in the universe, and while he declined to share the purpose of this venture with me during my captivity, I find myself seriously doubting that it involves giving everyone their own kitten. Now, can we focus, please?!"

Banner frowned. "Who did he mind-control?"

"How?!" He was beginning to get a stupidity-induced headache. Hands flying up in a wide gesture to the room at large, Loki looked at Thor and demanded, "How is it you think these people can possibly help?"

_____________________________________________________

Next Masterlist

[orionares]

Drabble, Part 7

At a week, Kensi is finally being discharged from the hospital.

Sitting in a hospital-issued wheelchair, donning a pair of sweats bought from a nearby pharmacy, Kensi is surrounded by her mother, Deeks’ mother and a young dark-haired doctor who’s in the middle of explaining a laundry list of instructions that the agent hasn’t heard a word of. Instead she sits quietly, fighting against her mind drifting back to memories of Mexico and nightmares of losing her partner.

So, she focuses on a memory. A happy one.

“You’ve got to give me something- I can’t plan this wedding by myself,” Kensi pleads, plopping down on the couch next to Deeks. She smiles as Monty’s ears perk up at the movement before darting off the couch and trotting happily into the kitchen. Deeks’ eyes widen momentarily and then slowly lowers the remote in hand onto the arm of the couch.

“Mm..okay…” his tone quickly changes from cautionary to contentment. “What can I do?”

“Help me pick between these two halls,” Kensi replies. She holds out two photos of a banquet hall from a hotel in Venice and another in Marina del Rey. “Which one?”

“For what?”

Kensi narrows her eyes at her fiancée. “For the reception?”

Deeks turns to face Kensi, confusion clear on his face. “I thought we were going to get married on the beach?”

“That’s for the wedding ceremony. This would be for the reception. Did you expect us to host burgers and beer for one hundred fifty people on the beach?”

“Are we still going with one hundred fifty people? Sweetheart, I was hoping that was an overestimate.”

“Sweetheart,” Kensi repeats in a similar tone, “It wasn’t. Think of it like seventy-five people each.”

“No.” Deeks suddenly stands up and glances around the room anxiously as if he’s trying to dig up something to change the subject. “It’s more like me, my mom, the team and Monty. And you.”

“There’s got to be some old friends or co-workers from LAPD- “

The uneasiness on Deeks’ face is clear. “Nope. That’s all I’ve got and all I’ll ever need.”

“Well,” Kensi leans forward and rubs her hands on his thighs. “I love you. So, here’s an idea- we relax on the reception as I already have many friends of my dad and old friends when I was an agent afloat all excited to come, but…. the ceremony will be you, me, our moms and the team. Minus Mosley.”

A sparkle twinkles in Deeks’ eyes. “That, Fern, is perfect.”

“Kensi Marie, are you listening?”

Her mother’s voice draws Kensi’s mind back to the present. Kensi can’t help but scowl as she draws her eyes from the floor and up to her mother.

“Like I was saying,” her doctor continues, focusing on the small Samsung tablet in hand, “Bedrest for at least a week and I’ll be giving you a prescription to take back home with you for any aches and pain you’ll have with your ribs…”

Kensi doesn’t notice the slight shake of Roberta’s head before she cuts the doctor off, her voice with a tint of humor, “She’s not hearing you, doc. You do realize that, right?”

Julia scoffs. “Roberta- “

“Don’t Roberta me. It’s true, isn’t it?” Roberta’s gaze travels from the doctor towards the directions of Deeks’ room. “Her mind’s with my boy. Doc, you might as well give her mother and I the instructions and we’ll make sure she’ll follow it.”

“Look, I can’t break our hospital policy right now. I’m nearly done.” The doctor gently tosses the tablet onto the pile of blankets in the center of the bed. “Look, I’ll make it simple- take it easy, take your meds and don’t overexert yourself when you go home, Miss Blye.”

“I’m not going home,” Kensi tells the doctor as bluntly as possible. She reaches over to the small plastic bag with her only belongings on her when rescued- her tattered pants and scraps of her blue long-sleeved and the smashed remains of her cellphone. A ping of guilt hits her heart when she remembers the photos Deeks and her had taken of a possible beach location- I never told him that it was my favorite.

“Sweetheart, it’s time to go,” Julia calls out. When Kensi doesn’t react, Julia grips the wheelchair handles before leaning next to Kensi and stating, “Let’s go for a walk.” 

 Ten minutes later, Kensi winces under the bright sun in the hospital’s outdoor sitting area. The bright sun and humid, thick air is a definite shock to the system and leaves her hoping desperately for whatever conversation her mother has planned is quick.  

“I need to get back up there,” Kensi protests. She’s already counted the row of hospital windows twice leading to Deeks’ floor twice. “It’s hot, Mom, and…. I really need to get up there.”

“No, we need to have a mother- daughter talk,” Julia explains. “You have the look in your eye that I don’t particularly enjoy seeing in my daughter.”

“I’m fine- “

“No. You are kicking yourself and doubting everything about whether you’re strong enough to deal with what comes next.”

The junior agent shudders at her mother’s words. She despises everything that comes with doubt- it had nearly eaten her alive after Jack had left and something she had kept at bay in the early years of her relationship with Deeks. Doubt’s slowly crept back into her life with Deeks’ sudden push to leave their jobs and as she stares at her mother, Kensi realizes that doubt has fueled every nightmare and anxious breath she’s taken during the last week. “Mom- “

“Marty had the same look when you were in that coma, sweetheart. He came with it daily, completely unsure of his ability to take care of you. Even after you woke up, that look was still there, although a little different,” Julia continues. She sadly smiles at the tears forming in Kensi’s eyes. “Not only was it a continuous fear of being able to take care of you, but also like he was unsure if he’d be strong enough for you.”

“Damn it- damn it!” Kensi cries out. She slams her hand twice against the left arm of the chair. She points back to the hospital and states, “I tried asking him how he had coped with and he always said he was fine! I should have pushed him on it- “

“No more what ifs or I should have out of you, darling. Trust me, I’ve done that with your father for years and it doesn’t help.” Julia slides forward on the bench and takes her daughter’s hands into hers. You told us the other day that you worked so hard for your job and that you didn’t want to give it up. Why does that scare you? I’m sure Marty knows that you aren’t a housewife.”

“He never asked me to be a housewife, Mom- “

“So, what scares you?”

A whimper leaves Kensi’s lips and she drops her head to hide the tears now streaming down her cheeks. An answer sits clear in a mind, one that she’s never told anyone. “I was going to leave my job after marrying Jack,” Kensi confesses. “Not right away- maybe a year after, you know? I’d figured that I could work in an office and plus, I was relatively new to this field, so it would have been easy. But then Jack left…. this job is a part of who I am and…the last time that I even remotely thought about leaving and letting go of this world, Jack left me. I know it’s stupid- “

“Kensi Marie Blye, do you love this man?”

Kensi’s heart flutters at the question. “More than anything,” she answers.

“Then understand this- Love isn’t perfect and it sure isn’t easy. Neither your father and I nor any other couple that I’ve ever met had all their problems solved before getting married. There are going to be challenges that you two will face and you will work through them as partners. You both come to that understanding and you can do anything.”

Kensi nods and manages a weak, heartbroken smile. Thanks, Mom.

Finally, with a reprieve from her mother and Deeks’ mother, Kensi returns to Deeks’ room to find him still unconscious and thankfully, still breathing.

“I was discharged this morning, baby, and it feels good,” Kensi says. “I mean, I still feel like crap but being able to not be confined for the bed for weeks is amazing. Sam had another procedure late last night for his leg and we won’t know for a few weeks the impact of it. Callen checked out this morning and you can tell that’s he’s blaming himself for this.”

Her fiancée’s hand twitches slightly, the timing almost like a response. It isn’t the first involuntary response he’s given her in the days after being intubated and yet it still causes Kensi’s heart to skip. At least he isn’t wheezing or seizing.

Kensi sits on edge of the bed and continues, “Still haven’t heard from Hetty, but I’m not overly surprised by this. Mosley came and I’m too tired and too angry to think about how I feel about her. Also, my mom gave me good advice about marriage and it sounds much easier than it is. So much easier. And Hidoko-“

Something in the corner of her eye, something she can’t quite explain, suddenly catches Kensi’s attention. Deeks’ hand has twitched again, this time enough to leave an indent in the blanket. An anxious breath leaves Kensi’s lips before she watches her fiancé’s fingers slowly close into a fist.

He’s- no, he’s waking up? Kensi’s mind and heart begins to race as she calls out, “Deeks? Baby?”

Kensi kisses his forehead and forces herself to take calm, even breaths. The last time Deeks had showed signs of waking up is still so clear in her mind, especially the moments where he couldn’t breathe. “If you can hear me, squeeze my hand. I know it’s hard, but you need to push through and come back to me.”

“Mmm....”

Kensi gaps and covers her mouth with one hand, exclaiming happily, “Yeah! That’s it! It’s okay, it’s ok!”

Deeks lets out what sounds like a whimper and scrunches his face in pain and confusion. For a moment, Kensi feels her heart begin to race uncontrollably as she focuses on the heart monitor, praying that it continues.  “Stay with me, baby. Come back to me.”.

Deeks’ eyes flutter open briefly before his eyes close and he settles back into the bed. Kensi drops her head in defeat and shakes her head disappointedly. When she decides to return her gaze back to her fiancé after a few minutes of deafening silence, she expects to see her find him still unconscious. Instead, Kensi finally sees the most beautiful thing she’s seen in a long time.

Marty Deeks- her fiancé, her partner and best friend- finally conscious.

[theramblingonesie]

I love you but I don’t like you right now: The Passion Project Diaries

I remember years ago when I was nannying for a beautiful family, experiencing the joys and not-joys of their daughter coming into toddlerhood. She was such a precious dumpling as a baby, and somehow she had sprung into an agent of chaos, destruction, loss of hearing (mine), and potty-training nightmares. I had a day where I remember sitting at the kitchen table hoping for five minutes of peace (that never arrived) and feeling overwhelmed by the guilty thought of, “omg. I don’t like you.” Bothered by this, having established that I did feel unconditional love for this child, I asked one of my friends who is a mother to two young children if she ever experienced similar feelings. She laughed and threw her hands up exclaiming, “OH GAWD YES! There are days where I completely dislike my children. You don’t tell them that, obviously, but that’s a well-kept secret among mothers. We all talk about it. You’d be surprised how common that is, especially when they’re toddlers.”

PHEW. Great, I wasn’t a monster. Or if I was, I was at least in good company.

Producing and directing The Scarlet Tongue Project has brought out similar feelings for me over the course of the past three or four years. I remember the gestation period, feeling scared and excited, dreaming about what her personality was going to be, how I would be as an art mommy, imagining all the playdates with other artists and art parents in town. Then I went into labor, breathing and screaming through the pain of contractions, feeling frustration and fear of the nurses- some helpful and some harmful. I remember the vulnerability of not wanting anyone else to touch my baby, of just wanting to hold her to my chest where she would feel safe and bonded. I remember how deeply and fiercely I fell in love when she began opening her eyes and making sounds. She was the most precious thing in the world to me, and I wouldn’t let anyone hurt her. The rest of the world disappeared, and it was so hard for me to focus or find equivalent joy in anything else. Then the insecurities of being a new art mommy set in. I doubted my abilities, and my exhaustion from trying to navigate this new territory had me questioning everything. Everywhere I turned there was information telling me that I was doing it all wrong; that if I made the slightest error I would damage my art baby for life, and maybe even lose her. I constantly reached out to loved ones asking for assistance, afraid to be left alone with this tiny, vulnerable creature. When you have a new project and you’re a new producer, suddenly everyone around you is an expert and wants to tell you how to do your job; particularly folks who have never been producers before. You begin to wonder if you made a mistake, and if you should give your project up for adoption to someone more competent. Other times, you pour yourself a glass of wine and tell them to eff right off because it’s your kid and they can go mind their own beeswax. I was in awe as I watched my art baby grow. She began to take on her own personality, making friends, forming opinions, and developing a stubborn side that I couldn’t budge for the life of me. I adored that about her. I was so deeply in love. But every once in a while, I would wonder if I made a mistake. She was so hungry, and the bigger she gets the hungrier she is. She developed her own voice, and while there are so many laughs and moments of deep wisdom that make me think she’s an old soul, she also loves to scream. Her favorite thing to do is scream, just to know she can. What and who she loves one day she hates the next. Sometimes she decides that what was previously her favorite food is disgusting, and will go on a hunger strike until I guess what she likes, because she won’t actually tell me. Sometimes I’ll put her in the bath and then run downstairs to grab a book quickly, and when I come back up she’s turned the water all the way up, screaming because it’s too hot and the tub is overflowing all over the floor and leaking through the kitchen ceiling below. Sometimes I think she’s getting dressed to go run errands with me, but instead she’s put on her roller skates and is three blocks down the street by herself with nothing but her lightning bolt undies on. In winter. On those days, I don’t like her. I don’t want to be an art mommy.

When my health issues crop up, physically or mentally, I don’t want to be an art mom that day. When I have no clue how to delegate because the beginning stages of this project left me with massive trust issues, and now I’ve taken on way too much for one person, I don’t want to be an art mom. When I receive yet another rejection letter from the millionth grant or residency program I’ve applied to, I want to quit. Everytime someone says, “so wait, I don’t really get what you’re doing, it’s so confusing” or “so like, is Scarlet Tongue even happening anymore?” I just want to go full-Britney, shave my head, and start smashing the street up with my umbrella.

Everytime someone says “oh, my sister is into feminism and stuff and she likes to draw. You should interview her”, I want to crumble into a pile of feral cats and scatter into oncoming traffic.

There are days when I ask myself why I took on a project that isn’t as flashy or “fun” as my other artist friends. Why am I so heavy? Why am I such a downer? Why am I so weird, but not in a way that’s cool?

There are days when I don’t know whether to punch or charge money for the next person who tells me that anger is bad, and why don’t I focus on a project that brings love and joy?

There are days when my heart breaks, because everyone likes the idea of womxn’s anger in theory, but when actually confronted by it they simply regurgitate the same toxic oppressive mentality that’s left us in this place to begin with. I’ve lost track of how many times “yes I believe in this, PLEASE LET ME HELP” has turned into “you’re a bad mommy. How dare you be angry with me.”

There are days when I feel lost, because I am holding the weight of so many people’s heaviest emotions and darkest secrets, and I feel pressured to keep smiling and do a flashy dance to make it all seem sexy, because sex seems like the only thing that sells if “womxn” is mentioned in your mission statement. Either that, or a complete exploitation of my artists’ trauma, which is a hard no.

There are days when money issues are gutting me, and I’m afraid to ask for help because I fear I’ve overtapped my resources.

There are days when it looks like for one every step forward I end up taking ten steps back.

Some days I’m not sure if I’m actually a better person since doing this work or not.

Those days, I turn my face away and mutter “I don’t fucking like you” under my breath, and secretly look up boarding schools in the middle of the night. When I’m around a small handful of friends I really trust, I’ll confess that I don’t like this project anymore and am ready for it to end.

But then, something beautiful happens. The act of saying how I feel out loud invites a feeling of surrender, and that surrender creates space for me to look at this project with fresh eyes and see her wholeness. Sure, maybe in certain moments I’m ready to tap out. But in a way, that’s good. It means I care, and I welcome emotions in this project. Sure, there are parts of this project I’m ready to wrap up, and not being able to complete that on my desired timeline makes me cranky. Not because I think they suck, but because that is the healthiest choice to keep things moving forward. I’m not going to start feeding my child solid foods because I resent their baby years; I’m going to feed them solid foods because it’s time to grow and move to the next step. Despite my hair-pulling moments, the reality is that when I really dig in and try to visualize not having this project, or never having started it, I feel panic and then a full-body resistance. For all of the frustrations, ups and downs, I believe in this work so hard, and I am completely dedicated to the path. I have visited parts of the US and the world that I’m not sure I would have ever seen otherwise. I’ve had the absolute fortune and blessing to gain both wisdom and knowledge, collaborate with, and share space with absolutely brilliant creative minds, both past and present. I’ve lost track of how many “holy shit, this is my life??” moments I’ve had, and that number only continues to grow. For every moment I’ve doubted myself, just as many people have taken time to tell me how much this project and this work means to them, and how it’s influenced their lives, whether as contributors or observers. On a personal level, the work I’ve done to heal a lot of my own trauma and anger issues has been profound, and the effects of that have had incalculable influence on my personal relationships and in my blood family. This project has shown me, through peace and through fire, how tirelessly obsessed and dedicated I am to making something happen if I really want it. Hearing “no” might bum me out for a minute, but you find solutions and move on. Being bummed out isn’t a death sentence.

Two years ago I was sitting with friends in Mexico, chatting with them about their experiences as mothers, contemplating if I wanted to have children of my own one day. One thing they said really stuck with me-- as a parent, you don’t own your children and they’re not extensions of you. They are their own people who will develop into who they need to be, and they will ultimately inform you about who they are. A parent’s job is mainly to love them, provide resources, and keep them safe.

This is a regular reminder for The Scarlet Tongue Project. I brought her into the world, gave her some form, and now she’s taken on a life of her own. Rather than being the owner or queen of this work, my job is far more service than glory. I’m trying to be better at asking her, “who are you today? What do you need to thrive?” Sometimes I have no clue what she’s trying to tell me. Sometimes we need to explore that a little bit to figure it out. Sometimes we take one or two wrong turns before getting back on track. But I trust the friends and caregivers she’s called forward to help on this journey. It’s a constant balance of appreciating growth while remaining present, and frequently reminding my ego to step out of the way. In moments of absolute frustration, I simply ask myself, “have you tried absolutely everything?” and the answer is always no. There is always more to do and more to learn. I can’t justify giving up when there is still infinite potential available.

Our relationships always flow in cycles. One day you’ll be super in sync with a friend or loved one, and the next you can’t seem to jive with their energy. Life will happen, circumstances will change, and then days, weeks, months or years later, you’ll fall back in harmony. In longterm romantic relationships, you cycle through periods of absolute infatuation, then wanting to murder each other, and sometimes being platonic roommate besties. I don’t have actual children, but I do believe there are so many different ways to live the archetype of Parent. It’s no secret that with parenthood comes doubt and overwhelm, along with joy and love. One minute you can’t get enough of your babies, and the next you’re hoping someone will take them away for a month so you can get some sleep and remember who you are outside of them.  While love remains, inspiration and interest come in cycles. Life, death and rebirth apply to the creative process as much as they do to the larger natural world. Winter in the creative process is crucial for letting things rest, assessing our previous work, and contemplating where we want to go before implementing a plan in the creative spring.

The work my team puts into this project continues to stun and humble me in gratitude. Every single person who takes a moment to tell me how this project has helped or inspired me has given me fresh life. Watching this whole thing come to life is surpassing my wildest dreams, even with the path being full of twists and turns. I don’t have to always like this project, and it’s liberating to admit that. But I love her on both an intellectual and soul level, and that’s what allows me to push through. This project is all about rawness, authenticity, and speaking your truth. It would be hypocritical if I encouraged everyone else but myself to be in that energy.

I wish you all creative spring through your moments of wanting to light it all on fire and send the ashes out on trash day <3

[podcake]

Podcast Teatime: The Question Session

A very welcome February day to you all! This is my first Q&A of the new year and I thought no one was better to pick for this beloved series than the creator of The Bright Sessions podcast, Lauren Shippen. 

I’ve been itching to know what this starlet in the podcasting scene has to say about her work on the show, her muses, and what she might have in store for us in the future. 

(The following is a direct copy-and-paste from the email)

Hi PodCake! 

Thanks for reaching out! Here are my answers: 

Question One: What drove you to make the series have therapy as a central plot point? Is it more of a framing device for the overall narrative or is there a more specific reason?

It definitely started as a very convenient framing device. Everyone knows what therapy is, and has an idea of what happens there, so there wasn’t a complicated premise or world that the audience needs to buy into. It also gave me the excuse to keep things confined to two people in one room - those kinds of scenes can be hard to keep active, but with therapy as an activity in of itself, the audience doesn’t get bored (hopefully). 

But ultimately, I wanted to write something that would allow characters to really discuss their feelings and delve into their own emotional lives. People rarely do this in their actual lives, but therapy provides this space. 

Question Two: Is there an ultimate plan you have for your overall story or do you simply make things up as you go along? 

It’s a little bit of both. My writing is always very focused on character, rather than plot, so I usually think about where I want to take the characters and build the plot around that. There are some exceptions to this (which I won’t identify here because: spoilers), but I’m rarely thinking about the big plot machinations first. 

As I start to map out a season, I have a target that I’m trying to hit, whether it’s a reveal about a character, a big change in the dynamic of the group, etc. I then start to write the season with that target in mind, but how I get there is discovered along the way. This has meant that some things have changed pretty drastically from when I started out, but it has also led to some really exciting, organic discoveries about the characters themselves. 

Question Three: Your show has a very interesting cast of characters. Is there a specific character you have the funnest time writing for? Whose the hardest character to put on paper?

I think this shows in his scripts, but I love writing Caleb. That’s why his scripts are usually at least 5 pages longer than everyone else’s. I like getting my brain into that teenage boy voice and I love the contradictions that Caleb contains - he’s smart, but so often oblivious; he’s very caring, but he also has an anger problem; he wants to talk about his feelings, but he can be so bad at communicating. 

I’m also really enjoying writing both Mark and Wadsworth this season. Mark is such a cheery, charismatic person who has been through so much trauma - balancing who he is by nature with what has happened to him is a fun challenge. Wadsworth is just…she’s awesome, and so unbelievably arrogant, but has reason to be, and that’s a lot of fun to write. 

Chloe is definitely the hardest to write. She’s constantly having at least two conversations: the one that’s happening out loud and the one she’s participating in in her head with everyone’s thoughts. Chloe is always at least one step ahead of everyone she’s talking to, so balancing each of those conversations and thinking about how what she’s hearing is affecting her own emotional state can be really difficult. 

Question Four: I tend to use The Bright Sessions as a great example of expressive and effective acting in audio drama and I’m curious as to where you found so many wonderful actors. Did you already know them all or did you seek them out yourself?

I am lucky enough to live in Los Angeles, where I am surrounded by incredible actors that the big shots haven’t discovered yet. Most of the cast are from an acting class I’ve been taking at The BGB Studio for three years. Julia (Dr. Bright), Briggon (Caleb), Charlie (Damien), Andrew (Mark), Phillip (Frank), and Alanna (Rose) all go to that studio and that’s where I met them. 

Anna (Chloe) and I met in a UCB class three years ago, and she introduced me to Ian and Alex M., who play Agent Green and Wadsworth respectively. Briggon, appropriately, introduced me to Alex G., who plays Adam. And then we have Reyn, who plays Charlie Decker, and who I know from ars Paradoxica, which our sound producer, Mischa Stanton, created. So it really is a family affair.

Question Five: The Bright Sessions has been achieving a lot of success in the podcast community over the few years it’s been out. Did you expect it? What do you attribute this success to? 

I definitely did not expect it. I certainly hoped that people would listen, and had lofty goals to have tens of thousands of subscribers, but when we started out I assumed that was a pipe dream. I - and I think this applies to everyone else involved as well - have been delightfully surprised by its success at every turn. In just the 15 months we’ve been doing this, we’ve had so many people listen and send us messages and draw fanart and be enthusiastic, and we are incredibly grateful. 

I wish I could tell you that we followed a very specific set of steps to have a successful podcast, but I honestly have no idea how we’ve gotten to where we are. Obviously, I’m proud of the show - I wouldn’t make it if I thought it wasn’t good - and I think people should listen, but I’m still surprised by how it’s taken off. I spent a lot of time in the early days on Tumblr, Reddit, Twitter, Facebook, etc., just trying to get people to listen and I think putting in those hours really helped. And then I think it’s just been a lot of dumb luck of the right people finding us. 

Being featured in different publications and on iTunes has really helped people find us and those features came up more or less organically - thankfully, there are people out there who actively seek out audio drama and then write about what they like. But mostly, I think the show has done well because we’re telling stories about characters a lot of people can relate to. I’ve certainly made an attempt to write something that is engaging and compelling, but having the actors that we have to bring these characters to life is, I think, our biggest asset. 

Question Six:  What drove you to make this into an audio drama? Do you have any inspirations you’d like to credit?

The reason for making The Bright Sessions an audio drama was two fold. First, there was the practical reason: making an audio drama is far less expensive than making something for film. I needed to be able to do every step myself - the writing, the recording, the post-production - on a tight budget. Audio drama was the solution. 

Second, the creative reason: I like the freedom of interpretation that audio drama provides. I’ve been in fandom spaces for a long time and, though I’ve never been a creator of fan works myself, I’ve always loved consuming them. The wonderful thing about audio dramas is the variety of listener interpretations they spur. Listening to an audio drama is like reading a book - you can fully immerse yourself and imagine the world and the characters however you like. Creating something that encouraged that kind of imagination really appealed to me. There were many creative reasons for sticking to audio, but this was the one I was most excited about.

While there aren’t any direct inspirations for the content of The Bright Sessions, Welcome to Night Vale and BBC Radio’s Cabin Pressure were the two pieces of audio fiction that I listened to before writing The Bright Sessions. WTNV is simple - mostly just one man talking into a microphone, with music. Cabin Pressure is elaborate - multiple scenes with different soundscapes and effects each episode, recorded in front of a live audience, big name actors. I didn’t have the dough for a BBC-like production and I think Night Vale only works as a mostly one-man show because of the magical combination of Cecil Baldwin, Cranor & Fink’s writing, and Disparition’s music. 

That formula is impossible to replicate. When thinking about how I wanted to tell a story through audio, these shows were my two reference points and helped me find the middle ground in which The Bright Sessions exists. 

BONUS: Has creating The Bright Sessions been a major impact in your life? How have things changed for you?

Oh boy, has it ever. The Bright Sessions has become my life. It started as a side project - a way for me to try my hand at writing and do some acting with a couple of friends. It has now turned into a full-time job (or, more accurately, three full-time jobs). On a practical, macro-career level, doing this podcast has completely changed the way I approach my professional life. Whereas before I was mainly an actor, I’m now a “writer/creator”. 

People like the thing I make and they write about it and invite me to come places and talk about it and that could not be more different from the life of general obscurity I lived as an actor. I’m by no means famous or even known outside of podcast circles, but I do feel that I am beginning to experience a level of recognition that is exciting and weird and genuinely a bit confusing. Also on the practical side, the success of the show has opened a lot of doors to me in entertainment that were previously closed. You’ll have to stay tuned on where that leads, because I certainly can’t predict at the moment.

On a personal level, The Bright Sessions has given me so, so much. It’s given me the opportunity to work with people I deeply admire and grow something with them. I cannot ever express how rewarding that is. Beyond the friendships that doing the show has strengthened, and the amazing work I’ve been able to observe in these actors, the show has, funnily enough, been very good for my mental health. Creating the character of Sam was like giving my own anxiety a voice. I wouldn’t necessarily recommend acting out panic attacks for everyone who struggles with anxiety (those scenes are hard) but for me, it has been extremely cathartic. 

Sam and I are very different people in what we want out of life, but our anxieties are the same. It is such a relief to be able to write a scene in which Sam explains why going outside or talking to people or feeling a certain way is terrifying. I now have something to point to and say, “this is who I am, this is how it feels sometimes to just go to the grocery store, these are my fears” and, while that is a vulnerable and frightening thing to lay bare, it has been oddly healing. 

And then to get messages from people saying, “I relate to Sam so much, thank you for her, I feel less alone now” is truly moving for me. It makes me feel less alone and I am unbelievably grateful for that. 

And, mixing the practical and the personal, doing The Bright Sessions finally made me get my act together and actually start going to therapy last year. I thought it was time for me to practice what I preach.

Such elegance. Such confidence. Such charisma towards her field! I want to thank Miss Shippen for doing this Q&A with me and to you all for reading this.

I say you make your appointment pronto and take a listen to The Bright Sessions for yourself. This has been PodCake, end recording.

[houseinva]

Toxic individuals lure you into a false sense of security simply to have a platform to showcase their cruelty. Baiting you into a mindless, chaotic argument can escalate into a showdown rather quickly with someone who doesn’t know the meaning of respect. A simple disagreement may bait you into responding politely initially, until it becomes clear that the person has a malicious motive of tearing you down. By “baiting” you with a seemingly innocuous comment disguised as a rational one, they can then begin to play with you. Remember: narcissistic abusers have learned about your insecurities, the unsettling catchphrases that interrupt your confidence, and the disturbing topics that reenact your wounds – and they use this knowledge maliciously to provoke you. After you’ve fallen for it, hook line and sinker, they’ll stand back and innocently ask whether you’re “okay” and talk about how they didn’t “mean” to agitate you. This faux innocence works to catch you off guard and make you believe that they truly didn’t intend to hurt you, until it happens so often you can’t deny the reality of their malice any longer. It helps to realize when you’re being baited so you can avoid engaging altogether.

I didn’t understand the concept of narcissistic supply back then, I didn’t understand that Ben felt validated by and alive from any sort of attention I gave him. Good or bad, positive or negative, attention to a narcissist is all that matters, it’s what feeds the False Self’s feelings of importance, of being valuable, and of being “real” whereas the narcissist’s False Self isn’t real, it’s nothing more than smoke and mirrors.

It didn’t matter how I reacted, as long as I didn’t  react or show indifference or silence, I was validating the existence of Ben’s False Self as being genuine and authentic instead of something Ben created to hide his disordered, flawed, wounded and damaged True Self.

Since Ben was my sexual awakening and had a tremendous impact on my life, I was still trapped in the mind-set induced by love-bombing; I believed that Ben was good deep-down despite at times showing a lack of empathy and interpersonal exploitation. While I knew he lied a lot, I still tended to believe what he said most of the time, especially when he lied directly to my face (as opposed to lying by text message, email or phone). I’ll give Ben credit: he’s one hell of a believable liar. When Ben claimed to be introverted and needed his “alone time” as opposed to intentionally and knowingly driving me mad with the silent treatment, I accepted his words as truthful.

Ben now said not to ever worry again about being discarded as he swore that would never happen again. He claimed he’d invested far too much into me to just throw me away and discard me, promising me that the days of discarding were days of the past and I need not worry about that issue anymore. Ben knew I’d been conditioned into being triggered the moment anything discard-related was mentioned into freaking out and flying off the deep end.

There was one instance when I sat down with Ben and pulled up literature on being “triggered,” trying to educate him on the importance of not bringing up my vulnerabilities or triggers. I believed that this teaching / learning experience made this “register” with him. I failed to realize I’d essentially  given him the blueprints on how to drive me insane.

I was aware of Ben seeming to create problems out of thin air at times when it wasn’t necessary, but I always assumed he was just slightly paranoid and overly sensitive. I never considered he’d done these things on purpose, especially not since he’d claimed he was working so hard to be the ideal version of himself that he saw in his head.

They create imaginary scenarios out of thin air just to blame you for them. A narcissist is a pathological liar – someone who will lie just for the fun of it. They draw amusement and entertainment from their victims   having to defend themselves against baseless accusations. Blame shifting ensures that the target is on edge, restless, and wastes their energy   trying to explain themselves rather than simply stating the facts and standing firm in their self-validation.

October 2017

One night Ben called to say that “those  people” called asking questions about me; “those people” was how Ben referred to the officers that had arrested John, my neighbor who befriended me right before I met Ben in round one.  Ben’s other boyfriend, the one he’d claimed to be breaking up with any moment since he returned for round two, was their confidential informant according to Ben. I did a random background check on his boyfriend and his arrest record corroborated Ben’s claims, as well. I thought Ben was trying to “throw me off,” there was no reason they’d want anything to do with me.

But then, days later I received  their call. My subsequent visit to see “those people” cost me $4k for an attorney and we found out nothing. Initially they said they had reason to believed I’d committed a crime in Maryland. I thought to myself:

They must have me confused with someone else. Outside of visiting my family and when I worked there well over a year ago, the only time I’ve been to Maryland was that one time when Ben literally yanked me out of bed and dragged me to his house for that god-awful threesome with him and his boyfriend.

I never considered there was any connection. I told them I didn’t know what they were talking about. The officers seemed anxious and fidgety; they tried offering me something to sign that would give me immunity if I told them what I knew only I didn’t know what they were talking about. We’d met them in Virginia and my lawyer read over the paper, stating it didn’t appear to give me immunity in DC where I lived. He said he wasn’t recommending I sign anything. Then the officers acted even stranger and started talking about random things unrelated to crime.

The one agent showed me his new iPhone, letting me play with it for a few minutes before we left. My lawyer described this as the strangest interaction with police in his career. I had no clue why they’d even contacted me but they sure were a lot kinder this time with an attorney present than they were when I first met them in that van in Northern Virginia. That was the time when I was leaving and the one officer cautioned me against using gay chat apps and dating sites, saying they could get me into trouble one day. All I knew was I didn’t want anything to do with those people and I was glad this random meeting went smoothly.

When I told Ben, he claimed he was joking when he said they called him asking about me and, given the coincidence, he didn’t feel safe anymore with me, using it as an excuse to discard me yet again, the fucker. Within two weeks, Ben was back at my side like always, of course, not acknowledging having discarded me nor apologizing either, which was expected. The whole thing was weird but I just thought it was another random, weird event in life, never thinking about on it.

One night Ben came over to celebrate Valentine’s day with me. When he  was leaving, he did something that was completely unlike him: he kissed me goodbye, and for the second time in our nearly year-long romance, he said:

I love you.

I was smitten, and I was taken aback as it was so unlike Ben to be romantic in the slightest. Despite us having more sex in a week than most do in their lifetimes, the element of love or romance was never present, at least not on his part. He went on to say that he’d likely return later to spend the night after he took care of a few things at home. In typical Ben fashion, he never returned, instead leaving me to stay up all night long waiting in anticipation. That’s something Ben did all the fucking time, he’d leave me hanging based on supposed plans that never came through. The next day I discovered Ben sent me an email shortly after midnight,  with the subject line reading:

Those people.

Ben claimed when he left my place that night, he saw police outside, shining a flashlight inside his car and felt too frightened to return to my place again after my run-in with “those people” months before.

I’d told him about what went down when I met with them, and he knew there was nothing to worry about, there was nothing going on and they must have been mistaken.

Ben also claimed they didn’t say a word to him and it sounded like some random group of police in the city at night, which is fairly common. It made no sense why he felt so shaken up and his language also seemed… hokey, it wasn’t typical for Ben, it seemed like he was making this up just to throw me off like he seemed to enjoy doing so often. Once a few more emails came through from him, I wasn’t buying his story at all anymore.

We will talk and maybe see each other in public somewhere. I’ve never been that shook before and I’m not trying to start anything.

What? What? What? Where was this coming from? Why would Ben seeing police outside result in him deciding never to return again to my home, limiting our time together to seeing each other in public, and cause him to suddenly decide to move home with his parents? This was making absolutely no sense whatsoever, and Ben was a magnificent liar whereas this time it was blatantly obvious he was lying through his teeth. But not matter what I said, he’d manage to flip it back around on me, making me appear like I was the the bad guy, the unreasonable one, and the asshole. The last time i saw him, Ben kissed me goodnight and said he loved me only for this to be our next encounter; not only was this was ridiculous, but for Ben’s lying kills to be this shitty this meant something was truly off.

You’re right I could be over reacting to the whole police thing but instead of helping me and or calming me down to make me feel safe you attack me? Is that what you to to someone you care about?

I’ll admit I didn’t save my responses to him but they weren’t over the top or mean like he suggested in his responses. I felt like he was lying though, I knew he was lying, but I couldn’t prove it. His reaction just seemed so extreme over something as run of the mill as police in DC streets at night. If anything he should have felt safe knowing that police were around in my neighborhood, it’s not like either one of us was up to trouble. This was nonsense. Ben was back at his favorite past-time again: fucking with my head. That I was certain of, although he’d never admit it, just like he’d never admit any of the mind games he loved screwing my mind with.

This annoying game dragged on for the entire week – first claiming he  was too scared to come back, then attacking me for questioning the validity of his claims instead of supporting him during a time of need. This was Ben’s way of dangling the discard carrot in front of my face indirectly in a way that he could claim was clearly not an attempt to discard me. The boy wasn’t content unless he was fucking with my head and provoking me. As stupid as it sounds, this whole ordeal threw me off for the entire week, I was depressed and on edge and convinced I’d never see Ben again. That Thursday night, I noticed something: the sex toy cabinet that Ben had stocked full of adult novelties was empty. Ben had been filling it for the last 9 months and suddenly nothing was there. What the hell? That little turd face had taken them all home with him before leaving that night, there was nowhere else they could have gone. He hadn’t seen police for certain, that was all one giant excuse for ending things with me but not wanting me to call him out for discarding me like always.

I was so angry at Ben and his never-ending mind games. He refused to respond to my email, leaving me to feel discarded yet again. Then Saturday morning, I received the email below, which makes me refer to Ben as a turd face squared

I just dropped [other boyfriend] off and might go to school. If I hear from you I’m open to talking fucking or just hanging out. The police thing still scares me but you’ve been a good friend for the most part so I don’t see that ending so easily.

That little turd had chosen to bait me into a mind-fucking, impossible argument that threw me off for an entire week only to send me the above and stop over that day. Of course there was no apology and he insisted the police incident was real and traumatizing.

Later on in rereading his emails, I noted something, which I underlined below:

Come to find out Ben had been snooping through my cell phone and email and saw that I referred to him as a narcissist in communication I had with my therapist. I didn’t notice Ben’s Freudian slip above about “talking behind my back about me to other people” until several weeks later. I approached him about this and he was honest for once, at least so I believe, in admitting to reading what I’d sent to my therapist about him. He’d planned out this whole thing because of my use of the goddamn, other “n-word.”