#and always identifiable by his constantly flagging tail

[sidetongue]

various pics of henry hunting gecks 

[fandomscombine]

TUA SERIES PART 4: Diego

The Hargreeves Kerfuffle Part 4:Diego

The Hargreeves siblings x Hargreeves!Reader (Familial Relationship)

BG: The Reader is Number Eight. It follows how you fit into the structure of Season 1 and the family dynamic of the siblings.  

This part follows y/n blowing off some steam with Diego being a supportive brother.

You don’t have to read every single part as each focuses on the reader’s relationship with each of her sibings.

But of course to get most of the story, read the whole thing. Besides why would you want to miss out on Hargreeves Siblings content?

A/n: sorry if this took long to update, I lost the master copy of the fic document- well technically, I was and am typing this on an auto-save document but it had glich somehow and when I searched and open the file it was only the first 2 parts. It took a while to find back the most updated document.

WC:1028

DISCLAIMER: I DON’T OWN THE TUA SERIES. THIS IS JUST BY A FAN WOULD REALLY ENJOYED THE SERIES AND WAS INSPIRED TO WRITE.

*ALSO NOT PROOFREAD

>>GENERAL MASTERLIST<<

>>THE HARGREEVES KERFUFFLE SERIES MASTERLIST<<

READ: [PART 1]   [PART 2] [PART 3]

>>JOIN MY WRITING CHALLENGE!<<

Your blood was boiling.

How dare Luther, your own brother accuse you of killing your own father.

Sure, your childhood wasn’t exactly the healthiest and emotionally suitable for a child but in a weird way your father had shape and trained the 7 of you to be at least somewhat in control of your powers.

Raising superpowered children is no small task.

Lost in your thoughts, you hadn’t realized how far from the academy you had walked.

You stared at the city Harborview, imaging how your life would be different if you hadn’t had these powers.

Peace. That’s what you think you would have. A sense of peace, living a normal daily life- get up, go to work, hang out with friends, sleep in a nice cosy apartment and repeat. No powers.

The final words of Sir Reginald replays in your mind.

‘The end is near, get the others ……and save…..the…..tttiiiimmm’

The end is near, get the others and save the tim- whatever or whoever tim is.

You assumed that it meant his time was up and had wanted the family back together. You had done just that but what had that got you? Indictment for one. A family reunion consisting of 5 emotionally incompetent adults and one trapped in a kid’s body.

Leaning across the railing you shouted. ‘Cosplaying as batman at aged 6 was cute but as a grown ass adult lurking in the shadows is definitely a red flag!’

A chuckle sounded from the corner. ‘Noted m’mam. Will not do it again’ said a deep voice.

To an untrained ear, no sounds of footsteps could be heard.

You, however can as do your siblings. All of who can also identify who is coming based on the sound- each ever have a slight variation, a unique touch.

Luther has the heaviest, loudest footsteps out of everyone.

Allison- quiet and delicate.

Diego has a sense of purpose in his walk- no doubt like the secret agent and superheroes he had always wanted to be.

Klaus is a bit unpredictable; it is either too fast and energetic or soft and slow pace.

Five. He cheats, mostly blipping in and out of places. But if need be, he usually takes leaps or huge steps, always ready to teleport out of any situation in midstep.

Ben. The master of stealth. He always manages to take the least steps, the most effective route between hiding points.

Vanya though without training is actually very good. At times you wouldn’t even notice her near as proven in her countless times secretly watching the rest of you training.

‘I doubt that.’ Turning to face the new arrival. ‘You are the literally embodiment of Vigilante Hero Complex.’

The city lights illuminating his face.

‘Ah! Case in point!’ You pointed at his outfit. ‘You’re even wearing a spandex suit, Diego!’

Diego shook his head, brushing off your teasing aside. He was happy to at least help bring a smile onto your face- even if it was at his expense.

‘How you feeling?’ Even though you all were the same age, Diego can’t deny that the numbering hadn’t had an older sibling protectiveness to come over him- especially when Luther was being a total dick. If only he was in charge, he thought.

‘Better… better now that you’re here.’ You admitted, bothering your brother never gets old. ‘Thanks by the way-for the cheer up.’

You both stayed in comfortable silence it was not until 20 mins later did Diego break it by apologising.

‘Sorry for what?’

He didn’t reply instead he lifted something out of his pocket. It shone against the deep blue waves.

You gasped. ‘Dad’s monocle.’

‘I know Luther believes you took it.’ He let out an exasperated sigh. ‘I’m sorry. I should’ve have confessed instead you took blame for me….’

Wrapping his fist around it he continued, voice getting harsher. ‘I …I just couldn’t you know? After all he did to us? How he treated us? We were just kids!’

He clutched it tighter shattering the glass. ‘He was gone. This was the most valuable things he had- never let it out of his sight….so I thought that this….that by taking this, it would be the closest thing in ever hurting him.’

‘Oh Diego…’ You didn’t know how to comfort someone who is going through the same scenario, a same situation that you yourself need help on.  ‘Dad is gone and…yes he wasn’t the most caring father. But the past is in the past, the only thing we can do now to move forward. Don’t let that define us. Strive to do better.’

‘We tried that once remember? And where did it get us?’ He countered.

‘Better than if we were to have stayed.’ You rebutted. ‘C’mon Diegs. Think about mom. Think about how she constantly reminds us to put our best foot forward, no matter what life throws at us..’

Diego’s face softens, he was always a momma’s boy.

Closing his eyes, he mutters an okay. Then he tosses the bloody cracked monocle into the water. ‘Now, why don’t we go stuff our faces full of donuts.’ You offered. ‘I can handle your typical brooding self but the 2 of us sulking? No can do, what we need is to eat our feelings.’

‘Giddy’s it is.’ Replied Diego, offering you his arm.

‘So I assume you parked 2 blocks from here?’

His eyes went wide. ‘How’d you-‘

‘PPPPlease!’ Rolling your eyes. ‘I might have subconsciously wander to this part of town, but I was conscious about a car not so subtly tailing me for 6 blocks.’

‘So you knew I was watching you from the very beginning.’

‘YUPPPP’ Popping the p. ‘At first I wasn’t sure who- nice car by the way, new?

‘A month ago.’

‘Anyway is wasn’t until you started following on foot til I knew.’

Elaborating when you saw his confused look. ‘You walk as if you’re the protagonist in an action film.’

‘I do not!’ He said defensively.

‘DO too!- Thanks.’ Settling down onto the passenger seat as Diego closed the door.

The debate lasted until you reach Giddy’s or so what was left of the store.

‘WHAT THE-‘

END OF PART 4

READ: [PART 1]   [PART 2] [PART 3]

Taglist [All]: @gruffle1

Taglist [TUA]:@herecomesthesun1969 @alabaster1223 @ultraviolet-m @winterierwriter @lordofthunderthr @grapesauze @xbarrjallenx @white-wolf-buckaroo @yoheyyosup @infinitystones2018 @94seun @buckynatlarry @thegirlwholikestomanythings @just-some-stars @97yrm @2cuteforyourlies @e-bendy @criminallyhamilton @aqarath @change-the-world-someday @sambucky8 @spankin-soda @big-galaxy-chaos @neenieweenie @okimreadynow @weird-pale-blonde-person @thebloodrobin @vicassa​@tkdcnlettuce @alexander-hamilhoe​

Feel free to tell me to you want to be tagged for the series or for all/any other of my fics.

Would love to hear your opinion on the series so far too!

 -Posting this a 2nd time, cause the 1st Tumblr error-ed out and deleted it.

also a bit of self plug here, i have a writing challenge going on and I’d love for you to join!

[artificialqueens]

Blue Neighborhood Series: WILD (Crystal/Nicky) - Mac

AN: Hi there, this is the first of a series of oneshots based off of Troye Sivan’s Blue Neighborhood album. The basic premise is that all the season 12 girls live in one neighborhood but have very different lives. Each song off the album applies to one of them/a pair of them. And we get to see how each of their lives intertwine. Does that make any sense? Who knows.

All my love to Meggie for beta-ing. Hope you enjoy!

Summary: Crystal can’t get her mind off her new neighbor.

Crystal groaned loudly as she heard yet another crash from the house next door.

She heard a few curses and another loud banging noise before the cul-de-sac went blissfully silent. Crystal fist-pumped the air as now she could finally, finally get some sleep. Who the hell moved into a new house at midnight?

Unluckily enough, another noise started sounding below Crystal’s window. This noise was softer and didn’t immediately warrant a groan of distaste. No, it sounded an awful lot like singing. The voice was muffled, but Crystal became more and more sure the voice was singing as the notes travelled up a floor to her room.

The person sounded… rather good. Crystal hated to admit that their new neighbors, who had the bright idea of moving houses in the middle of the night, were doing anything well, but the fact persisted.

The singing was rather good. And now Crystal was both awake and intrigued. So now, of course, Crystal had to get up to peer out the window and see who was doing the rather good singing.

It was dark. Midnight. So she could barely make out the figure, but it looked to be a girl about her age, high school senior, maybe junior. She was carrying boxes from the back of the moving truck into the house.

Fuck it,Crystal thought  She was already snooping; she might as well snoop more. She opened her window slowly, wincing as it creaked from disuse. She went slowly, drawing up the frame until the warm night air danced across her face.

She could hear the song more clearly now, still didn’t recognize it, but the singer was definitely a girl. It took Crystal a few more minutes to realize the song wasn’t in English. Her three years of French seemed to fail her in that moment, other than identifying that the song was in fact, French.

The girl looked to have blonde hair, or maybe that was just a trick of the faint garage light that illuminated her. Crystal leaned a bit closer to her window to get a better look, in the process she nearly knocked the screen out of the damn thing and cursed rather loudly.

There was a scuffling from under her window and Crystal ducked down so she couldn’t be seen.

“Hello?”

The voice was heavily accented.

“Is someone there?”

Crystal held her breath, not that it would help much, she was a whole story above her neighbor. Still, the intensity of the moment made her wary.

The girl must have given up looking because she went right back to moving boxes, but her singing turned into light humming, and Crystal surprised herself by being sad at that fact.

The days passed, and Crystal saw neither head nor tail of their new neighbor.

She brought it up on Wednesday, during lunch, or what was considered their lunch period.

Freshman year, Crystal would always steal away into the art room to work on her unfinished projects at any given moment. This included lunch, breaks between classes, and sometimes even during her other classes. After about a year of her doing this, and her friends complaining about never seeing her, they finally decided it would be easier to hole up in the stuffy art room with her rather than brave the bustling cafeteria.

Crystal nonchalantly mentioned the racket that occurred the other night while trying to seem invested in the unfinished painting in front of her.

“Oh yeah, the new girl, what’s her name, Nicole? Nina?” Jackie shrugged. “Something with an N.”

Jackie seemed unbothered by the appearance of the newest member to their neighborhood, as she went right back to studying for their chemistry exam. Heidi shrugged too and continued looking over Jackie’s shoulder as she studied for their chemistry exam.

“I think she’s French,” Crystal threw out.

Jackie hummed noncommittally, absorbed in her studies. Crystal was just about to shrug it off when Aiden piped up from the table beside her.  “You talkin about the new girl? The one that moved in at the asscrack of dawn?”

Crystal nodded.

“Her name is Nicolette, goes by Nicky. Moved from Marseilles, France. Only child. Seemingly lives with her single mother.”

Crystal and their present company looked up from what they were doing to stare wide-eyed at Aiden.

She just shrugged. “I know people.”

Crystal didn’t press further. She turned back to her unfinished painting and lamented that it wouldn’t paint itself.

But at the same time, her mind was reeling.

Nicolette.

Crystal liked that name. It seemed… fitting in a way.  

She went through the rest of her day with little care for anything else, Nicolette on repeat in her head.

She didn’t know why she was so absorbed in this girl. She shockingly didn’t seem to mind either.

When Crystal got home, she finally shook her strange stupor. She let the dogs out, made herself a snack and went up to her room to start on the metric fuckton of homework she had to do.

She sat down, opened her textbook, and promptly closed it again. She did this twice more, before actually starting to read the words inside.

Her focus drifted after the first few lines, along with her eyes. and she soon found herself looking out her window, but not just aimlessly, looking directly into the eyes of the neighbor she had been obsessing over for most of the day.

Crystal startled herself when she realized what she was doing, and had the decency to blush. The girl, Nicolette, Nicky she mentally corrected, smiled a bit at her clearly flustered state. Crystal felt her stomach flip.

This was the first time she actually got to see Nicky in the daylight, albeit through a crusty window screen, but goddamn, she was just as beautiful as her singing voice. If not more so.

Nicky waved after a few awkward moments of the two staring at each other. Crystal waved back immediately and then mentally kicked herself for looking too eager.She’s gonna think I’m a freak.

But Nicky didn’t close her window shade in horror, she didn’t look disgusted by the mere sight of Crystal. No. What she actually did was look around her room for a moment before holding up a finger. Wait a second, she mouthed.

And Crystal found her mind supplying that she would wait much longer than that if Nicky asked her to. But she just nodded.

Nicky smiled and got up to search her room for something.

She came back a moment later with a notebook and a pen. She scribbled something down before pressing the notebook to the window.

Hi I’m Nicky

Crystal couldn’t stop the smile from spreading on her face. She pulled out one of her hundreds of sketchbooks and wrote her own message.

I’m Crystal

Nicky smiled and wrote her response.

Hi Crystal

Crystal giggled to herself.

Hi Nicky

Nicky went to write something else down, but Crystal beat her to it.

You could just open your window, you know?

Nicky grinned, but jotted down something else.

I thought this was more romantic.

Crystal couldn’t stop herself from blushing. Nicky was joking. Surely.

Crystal didn’t have time to process the possibility of Nicky not joking because the girl in question was now opening up her window.  

Crystal followed suit and tried to not look like a complete fool, evidently, the world was out to get her because the screen from her window fell lifelessly to the grass below her.

Nicky laughed.

And oh, they could hear each other now.

“I meant to do that,” Crystal tried to cover for herself.

Nicky only laughed harder. “Sure, you did.”

And oh, Nicky was definitely French. Her accent smoothly tied up in her words. It made her impossibly more fascinating.

“Hello there, neighbor.”

“Hi.”

“How you doin’ with moving in?”

Nicky sighed, “Oh, you know, I’m drowning in cardboard boxes, and I want to die, but what else is new.”

Crystal nodded, “I feel that.”

Nicky smiled softly, but averted her eyes, “I’m sorry I have not introduced myself. I’m not the best at English.”

“You’re from France, yeah?”

“What gave it away, the accent, or the good looks?” Nicky winked.

“The flag hanging up behind you.” Crystal pointed to the very evident French flag on the far wall of Nicky’s bedroom.

“Oh.”

It was Crystal’s turn to laugh.

And then abruptly stop laughing.

The sudden silence was awkward, and Crystal found herself tracing the lines of the fallen window screen on the grass.

Nicky also seemed uncomfortable by the sudden lack of sound. So uncomfortable in fact that she motioned back to her room, “Umm, I should… get back to-”

“Yeah! Yeah, me too.”

Nicky nodded. “Umm, see ya?”

“Yeah, I’ll see ya.”

Nicky smiled and went to close her window, but just before it could shut, Crystal called out, “Same time tomorrow?”

Nicky looked up at her and smiled.

“Sure.”

Crystal nodded and closed her own window as Nicky pulled her blind down.

She found herself constantly looking over to see if Nicky’s blind went up.

It didn’t.

Crystal couldn’t possibly concentrate now. Her mind replayed Nicky’s laugh like a loop in her head.

Maybe that made her crazy. To be so infatuated with a girl after knowing her for less than ten minutes.

Heidi certainly thought so.

“Girl, you sound clit-matized.”

Aiden looked up from her sculpture to look confusedly between Crystal and Heidi, “What the hell is that?”

“You know, like dickmatized, but she’s a girl? Clitmatized,” Heidi explained.

“That’s not a real thing,” Aiden said.

“Well now it is, hoe,” Heidi shot back.

“Guys!” Crystal exclaimed. “We were talking about me and my problems.”

Aiden rolled her eyes. “So what, you have a crush on her. You’re bein’ a little creepy. We’ve all been there.”

“I think it’s sweet,” Jackie chimed in.

“I think it’s creepy,” Heidi called.

“I think you should talk to the bitch more,” Aiden said.

“I think I’ll just die in a hole,” Crystal lamented, throwing her head down on her open homework.

Crystal decided that dying in a hole would be counterproductive to figuring out why she was so infatuated with Nicky. Hence, she settled for trying to finish the homework she had neglected from the previous night.

The rest of the day passed slowly. Maybe it was because she had something to look forward to. Maybe it was just that high school was boring as hell.

Crystal didn’t know.

What she did know was that as soon as she watched Heidi, Jackie, and Aiden close their front doors, she sprinted upstairs to her room.

She found Nicky had beat her to it and was staring dreamily out her own window. So she had most probably seen Crystal’s frantic running.

God, just kill me now.

Crystal put on a brave face and marched over to her window, opening it with greater care this time around so as not to dislodge the screen.

“Hey there neighbor.”

“Hey there.”

“How was your day?”

“Ugh, god, it felt like it would never end! I swear high school is such a scam.”

Nicky chuckled. “Well, what do you want to do after?”

“Realistically or in my fantasy?”

“Oh fantasy, definitely.” Nicky smiled.

Crystal smiled and felt a bit of the tension in her mind dissipate, “Well, in my French vanilla fantasy, I get into this really prestigious art school, like the Juilliard of art schools. And on my first day of class, I create this masterpiece. Better than Van Gogh.”

“Naturally,” Nicky added.

Crystal giggled and continued on, allowing herself to really ham up the details. Nicky seemed to smile more when she did. “They see my potential, and they fast track me to the big leagues. The MET, the Smithsonian. Boom. One cold day in February, that masterpiece from before is hung up. I am undercover in the crowd, observing everyone’s reactions. After a while, everyone leaves, except for one guy. He is staring at my painting with an unreadable expression. I approach him. He is crying. He is moved to tears by my masterpiece.”

“He wants to buy it?”

“Better. He’s a washed-up artist, hasn’t created in years after his wife died tragically.”

“How is that better?”

“I’m getting there!” Nicky held up her hands in surrender, and chuckled lightly. “So he’s a washed-up artist, and he loves my painting and offers to mentor me. I decline.”

“Why would you-”

“I offer to help him get back into his art. We build a friendship even though he’s a cynical old man who doesn’t laugh at my jokes. But he starts creating again. He and I open up our own gallery in New York City. And people come from all over the world to get a look at our art. But the best part is, on the opening night of our gallery, I meet his daughter.”

Nicky rolled her eyes fondly, “Let me guess, you fall in lov-”

“We fall in love.”

Nicky laughed. So hard she snorted a bit and then laughed at herself for snorting. Crystal went giggling right along with her.

“I like that world,” Nicky spoke softly. The fondness in her voice struck Crystal like a slap.

“Me too.” She smiled.

It was at that moment that everything changed. Suddenly, the tension that hung between them was gone. It was like the universe decided they had suffered from their mutual awkwardness enough. Conversation flowed smoothly from the two windows, and before either of them could blink, the sun had set.

They didn’t seem to notice, talking long into the night about anything and everything under the stars.

Nicky talked about her childhood. Growing up in France and Morocco. She had so many stories from so many different places, Crystal worried she’d never hear them all.

Maybe that’s why they stayed up so late.

Maybe Crystal worried that when the sun rose, the spell would be broken, and Nicky would go back to just being the girl that lived next to her. And not this incredibly fascinating human that seemed to be equally as fascinated with her.

Unfortunately, Crystal wasn’t superhuman, and after the third consecutive yawn, Nicky sentenced them both to some well-needed rest.

Crystal agreed, begrudgingly shutting her window and giving one last wave to her new friend.

They went on this way for the next week. Crystal rushing home to find Nicky waiting for her, window propped, a smile etched into the corners of her eyes.

Crystal swore she got more beautiful every day.

On one such afternoon, Crystal finally got the courage to ask Nicky about the night she moved in.

“Were you the one singing the other night?”

Nicky’s head shot up in surprise.“Oh, god, did I wake you up?”

“No! No!” Crystal lied. “You sounded really good,” Crystal said truthfully.

Nicky blushed at the compliment and ducked her head. “Now you are just winding me up.”

“No really!” Crystal insisted. “You sing beautifully.”

“I really don’t-”

“Wait hold up!” Crystal cut her off and made her way over to the far corner of her room. She picked up the worn down guitar and came back over to sit by the window.

“You play?”

“Not since I was ten, but it’s just like riding a bicycle, right?”

Crystal tried to play a chord and the screech from the instrument rang out like a gunshot.

“Yep, just like a bike,” Nicky teased.

Crystal fiddled around with the tuning until the noise emanating from the instrument sounded a bit more like music and a bit less like a feral animal.

She played softly, getting reacquainted with where to put her fingers and what the hell a strumming pattern was. Nicky just watched her with a soft smile and chimed in with praise and some teasing words until the afternoon sun had turned into moonlight.

They had gone so long without talking that when Crystal finally spoke, her voice cracked. She blushed, but Nicky only smiled warmly.

“Do you know Landslide?”

Nicky nodded.

“Okay, gimme a second.” Crystal grabbed her laptop and pulled up the chords, before beginning to strum lightly.

Nicky nodded along to the first few notes, humming lightly through the verse. When the chorus came, she finally started to sing.

Well, I’ve been afraid of changing

‘Cause I’ve built my life around you

Crystal couldn’t help the smile on her face. Nicky still had her accent when she sang. The fact made Crystal’s chest feel fuller than it should have.

But time makes you bolder

Even children get older

And I’m getting’ older, too

Crystal cheekily tried to chime in for the last line.

Said, I’m getting older too

Nicky looked up at her pleased. “You can sing, you can play guitar, and you are an artist? Is there anything you can’t do?”

Crystal was very close to saying something stupid like ‘I can’t stop thinking about you.’

But luckily, a voice from Nicky’s house called out before she could make a fool of herself.

“NICKY!”

Nicky sighed and turned around to yell back, “Coming, Mom!”

She shot an apologetic look to Crystal who just motioned to say ‘Go ahead. I’ll be here.’

“See you tomorrow?”

Crystal nodded. “See you tomorrow.”

But Crystal didn’t see Nicky tomorrow. Or the next day. Or the day after that.

Her blinds remained shut tight for the next week.

“Maybe she hates you.”

“Aiden!” Jackie scolded.

“What, you were both thinking it.”

Jackie shook her head and turned to face Crystal. “She could just be going through stuff. She just moved, yeah?”

Crystal nodded.

“So she’s probably unpacking still, or getting ready to start a new school. Or literally any number of things other than her hating you.” Jackie shot a glare at Aiden who held her hands up in surrender.

“Or she died.”

“Heidi!”

“Just me thinkin’ it?” Heidi looked to Aiden who shook her head. “Just me, okay.”

Crystal groaned. She had probably scared Nicky off. Probably scared her off so much she never wanted to see Crystal again. Probably scared her so much she was moving back to France.

Probably scared her so much she was… waiting by Crystal’s locker after homeroom.

“Hey there, neighbor,” Nicky smiled.

And oh god, Nicky up close was even more breathtaking. Her long blonde hair tied into the most perfect braid and her outfit was so trendy and cute and, Jesus Christ, she smelled good too.

“Sorry, I missed you the past couple of days. We went to stay with family and it was so short notice I didn’t have time to tell you.”

“You’re… oh.”

Crystal’s brain was still trying to process that Nicky was here. That she was real. And apparently going to their school. She looked to the locker Nicky was leaned up against and saw her name in cute cursive letters on the front.

“We’re… locker neighbors?”

“Yeah. I asked the principal to put me next to you.” Crystal must not have given the right response because Nicky’s face fell and she quickly started apologizing. “Oh god, I am so sorry I should have asked! I wasn’t even thinking. I don’t mean to cramp your style”

Crystal couldn’t help but laugh, “No! Nicky, Jesus, if anything you’d be helping my style.”

“What do you mean? I like your style.”

“Oh. I… Forget it.” Crystal shook her head to clear the blush from her cheeks.“You want a tour?”

“I thought you’d never ask.”

Crystal smiled in spite of herself and held out her arm. Nicky gave a chuckle and took it graciously.

The two frolicked about the school, under the guise of a tour. They chatted and laughed and caught up with each other’s lives.

Crystal hadn’t realized how much she had missed this. This ease between them. The way their thoughts seemed to run together like ink. It was refreshing to have someone who’s brain worked like yours.

When the bell finally rang for lunch, Crystal steered Nicky away from the mass of teenagers heading for the cafeteria, and toward the art room.

The two entered to find Jackie and Aiden already in a heated discussion about which version of A Star Is Born was better. Heidi was sitting next to Jackie just watching on in amusement.

The three of her friends did a double take when they noticed Crystal’s guest.

“Hey guys, this is our neighbor Nicky.”

“Our?” Nicky asked.

“Yeah. Heidi lives across the street from me, Jackie lives on the other side of Heidi, and Adien lives next to you.”

“Oh, well hello there neighbors.” Nicky smiled and waved.

Heidi’s eyes lit up in recognition.“Oh, is this the girl you been talkin our ear off about? The one you’re kinda in love with?” Jackie elbowed Heidi in the ribs.

Crystal’s whole body flushed crimson and she opened her mouth to respond, but Nicky beat her to it.

“Oh, so you’re in love with me?” Nicky asked teasingly.

“No! No. God, no,” Crystal lied unconvincingly.  

She looked over to her friends for backup.

Jackie caught on and tried to cover, “No, Crystal has had this insane crush on… on… on Gigi!” Crystal winced at that name. “Yeah, Gigi. Since we were little.” Jackie nodded.

Heidi clearly didn’t know what was happening as evidenced by the confused expression on her face. “Wait, I thought Crystal broke up with her-”

Crystal cut her off, raising her voice to drown out Heidi’s “Yeah, I’ve had this silly crush on this cheerleader. It’s kinda pathetic. Like just cause we grew up together doesn’t mean she would ever look at me like that.” Crystal laughed nervously.

Nicky looked unconvinced, and a little… disappointed. But the expression disappeared a second later. “Well she’s stupid if she doesn’t think you’re cute.”

“Amen,” Aiden called.

Nicky nodded and turned back to Crystal. “Anyway, enough of that sad stuff, let’s see those paintings you are always talking about.”

[queerbrownfox]

#ShutDownSaltyParents

Anybody who’s ever worked in retail knows it: you see some interesting things. Sure I’ve got a more than my handful of stories. Bloody swimsuit bottoms in fitting rooms, guys calling to ask about women’s underwear that decide to use your phone conversation to jack off, even a kid, now known at my workplace as The Karate Kid, who decided that it would be a good time to scream “HI-YAAA!” over and over again while kicking clothes off of racks.

Usually the story just ends up being a funny to tell at dinner time, but every once in a while, I end up seeing something that really digs itself under my skin and makes me absolutely sick.

I was working in the shoes department all day today setting new product. Bustling about, paying less attention to customers compared to usual like I sometimes do while busting out a project and breaking down boxes. I’ll admit it. I’ll answer questions every once in a while, but I’m in a zone, as it were. But then, there was this cute little kid that caught my eye. He was probably six or seven, with a curly mop top and puppy-like brown eyes. Kids don’t usually melt my heart like that, but this one really put a smile on my face.

He was playing around with the shirts his mom was going to buy while his mom tried on shoes. I had my eye on her. Kept thinking to myself, put the boxes back put the boxes back put the boxes back, but much to my dismay, she was one of those that didn’t pick up on vibes really well. What are retail workers for though, right?

Anyways, this kid had on a pretty little ruffly floral shirt I’d been eyeing up myself to be honest. He looked at me with this bright big smile on his face and then turned to his mom and said, “Look mommy, I’m a girl!”

The mom, with an annoyed look on her face ripped the shirt off from over his head and said “No you’re not. You’re a boy.”

I thought about it all day. I don’t think I’ve ever felt so sick to my stomach about the way I handled something.

I stopped what I was doing and looked at the kid. His fallen face. I couldn’t meet the mom’s eyes. And what did I do? How did I swoop in? I just turned back to my boxes and started breaking them down again (rather passive-aggressively, might I add) with my box cutter. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw her cart roll past.

But what could I have said, right?

It’s times like these that it hits me in the face. The reality of the status quo. I can hit the pride reacts on my Facebook page as much as I want. I can post articles queer identity and talk about it with my peers and professors as much as I like. But I always, always am surrounded by like-minded individuals. People who agree with me. Yeah, of course the gender binary is bullshit and reverse-racism is as mythical as Sasquatch. Agree to agree.

I’m totally blind to the fact that the majority of this society is so far behind in their understanding of literal human empathy. I know this mom is not by any means the only one. Who has boxed in her kids with dolls and action figures or pinks and blues. Screamed at a son for breaking into his sister’s dress up clothes or his mom’s lipstick stash. Or perhaps even worse: laughed. Took it as a joke, a prank he was playing.

Here’s a tip. If your kid isn’t laughing, don’t laugh at them.

Kids that age, Jesus, they’ve never come face to face with a world that’s rejected them. Bullied them, broken them. And can you, as their parent, really sleep soundly knowing that you were the one who introduced them to this world’s malevolence? 

“Your kid is going to hate you when he grows up.”

I saw an article recently about a genderqueer child who attended New York City Pride for the first time with their (straight, not that it matters) parents. Rainbows abounded. The kid’s long, curly blonde hair was in adorable little pig tails and they had the most adorable little grin on their face--as did their pride flag-waving parents. It was a pick me up for my day, you know? The kind of thing that makes you think, “Well, there’s a bit of hope out there.”

But then I made the mistake of reading the comments. And I saw that one: “Your kid is going to hate you when he grows up.”

First of all, let’s lay this on the line. Intentional mIsgendering = hate speech. Let’s call it what it is. There was more, too. “He’s going to look back at these pictures one day, and he’ll never forgive you for dressing him up like this.”

Dressing up? As if the parents “dressed ‘him’ up” this way? As if that great big smile could possibly have been forced? As if, more importantly, genderqueer and trans kids forced to conform to their assigned sex at birth aren’t being “dressed up” like you claim?

I’m so sick of people treating kids like they’re stupid. Like they couldn’t possibly know what they want. Like they’re constantly embarrassing themselves. Seriously? If there’s one thing I really admire about kids, it’s that they literally can’t be embarrassed. They’re blameless, shameless, they do the most outlandish things without blushing. But they are capable of being shamed by the outside world. Kids develop guilt complexes so young. I would know--I sure did. And it absolutely breaks my heart when I find myself watching another kid developing one right before my eyes.

But hold on--back to me. I’m not off the hook.

Us queer folks, I think we really have to put aside this us versus them complex. The whole, “Look at these terrible parents being bad people. Shame on them. Like my Facebook article and let’s bitch about how terrible this is in the comments.”

We need to break out of our complain-fest because it traps us in our community of like minded individuals, saying the same things over and over, expecting progress to happen as our generation gets older. Bullshit. I’ve seen millenials turning a blind eye and buying into the stereotypes baby boomers propagate, albeit a little bit more quietly. Not that that makes our generation any better.

The next time we see a kid getting shut down, belittled, bullied, we’ve gotta do our job. Never mind shitty parents. They’ve got their own mindsets, they’ve already been conditioned and raised. That’s a whole other battle that we ought not to over burden ourselves with.

Let’s start with the little kids. 

Let’s say it, in our own subtle way, that it’s okay to be you. It’s okay to be confident, to rock a dress or some lip gloss, whether or not you identify with a feminine identity. A smile, a wink, a complement can go so damn far in the eyes of a little kid. 

With that in mind, what would I have said today? What would I have done differently? I think I know now. I think I would’ve caught that kid’s eye when he smiled at me and said, “That suits you, kiddo.” ♡

[purelyfrivolous]

Before throwing last year into the mental trash bin and letting ourselves get lost in looking forward, I thought it’d be good to stop and reflect on the things in 2017 that weren’t terrible.

Unfortunately it’s true that – while a grouping of 365 days can be neither good nor bad, as they’re just days – many uncomfortable and unfortunate things did cover last year in a bit of a deep fog. On a personal level, it was one of the darkest periods of time in my entire life. BUT, there was light and there was hope. AND WE MADE IT.

The death of my father and the worsening of my mother’s cancer brought me closer to my family and made me realize, deeper than ever before, that we cannot take anything for granted. The sudden passing of a former color guard student, in whom I saw so much of myself, caused me to take a look at my mental health and begin reaching out instead of turning in towards myself. The onset of a deeper-than-normal depression and a heightening of my anxiety led to a reevaluation of my priorities and allowed me to take a step back to regroup. Following my gut and doing what I felt was right instead of what I felt was required of me turned into one of the best summers of my life, full of laughter, growth, and joy – which, sandwiched between the difficult beginning and end to the year, was made even sweeter.

And, there’s no getting around the fact that the world is a little unhinged. That can sometimes make getting out of bed in the morning even more challenging. There are reasons to get up, my friends. There are things that are worth it and there always will be, if we make sure to continue looking for them.

So here I am, writing this post (the first of three) with some of my favorite things from 2017. This one is dedicated to some odds and ends as well as the two current books that I read last year. The next will feature the music that kept me going, and the last will contain the movies and television that made an impact on me.

Without further ado, here are a few of my favorite things that 2017 had to offer (in no particular order)!

Turtles All The Way Down, John Green & Little Fires Everywhere, Celeste Ng

The Voice & Addison Agen

“Call Me Mother” on SYTYCD by Mark Kanemura

Football?!

Santa Clara Vanguard, “Ouroboros”

Sterling K. Brown, This Is Us

Museums

Theater (and NYC!)

The Lonely, Swimming Pygmy Sloth from Planet Earth II

“The Hilarious World of Depression” Podcast / John Green / VlogBrothers / NYT Article

The Costumes and Production Design of Film and Television

Turtles All the Way Down & Little Fires Everywhere

Of the 20 books I read last year only two of them were released in 2017. They both ended up being phenomenal. John Green‘s Turtles All the Way Down was released this fall when I was amidst the darkness of losing my former student to suicide and dealing with my own inner demons. It was a little beam of light that helped illuminate the path forward. While the plot is sometimes head-scratchingly strange (the Tuatara, anyone?), it is the honesty with which Green brings OCD and anxiety to life through the main character, Aza Holmes, that sticks with me. There were moments while reading this book that I couldn’t shake the feeling that someone else understood a little part of my brain that I’d long believed no one else could. As Aza falls into her “though spirals” and picks away at a literal open wound she paints a picture of what it’s actually like to live mental illness on a day to day basis. I identified so strongly with this young woman that whatever issues arose in the plot didn’t matter. John Green is a brilliant writer and for those who often feels lost in their youth, still trying to find themselves, he is a kind of comforting truth. Turtles is a sometimes difficult read but it is one that will stay with me for a very long time.

If you escaped 2017 without seeing Celeste Ng‘s novel Little Fires Everywhere somewhere, you’re possibly a hermit. It was everywhere: Amazon’s “best novel of 2017,” New York Times Bestseller, Goodreads Readers’ Choice Award winner for Fiction, and the top of numerous other “best” lists. I’m naturally inclined to avoid such items as they surely cannot live up to the hype. For some reason I was drawn to this book nonetheless, and it did not disappoint. The titular fires became, for me, two of the central characters’ spirits. Along the way you’re introduced to a couple of women with spunky personalities that are unpredictable and endlessly interesting. Two families collide in surprising ways and there is an exploration of family dynamics that creates numerous meaningful moments. This novel isn’t exciting in an eventful plot kind of way but after a slow ignition, the metaphorical flames burn bright and enrapture.

The Voice & Addison Agen

I’d given up on The Voice after Season 4 for numerous reasons, most importantly the mammoth time commitment to catch each of the many hours that were broadcast each week over multiple nights. Occasionally I’d hear something I liked or a name would pop up on social media and I’d take note again for a second, but I’d largely moved on. For some reason I had to see what Jennifer Hudson was going to bring to Season 13, so I reluctantly tuned in. What a fulfilling choice that ended up being. The talent this past season was astounding. It is rare for me to watch a reality competition of any kind and like more than a small handful of contestants, but I constantly found myself loving a majority of the performances week after week. A core group stood out from the beginning – Chloe Kohanski, Brook Simpson, Noah Mac, Davon Fleming, and youngster Addison Agen – and astounded with each song in their own unique ways. It was the last in that list, 16-year-old Addison, that seized my attention. As with an actor that I’ll mention later in the list, Addison’s performances did something to me. She hit a nerve that cannot be explained. While she was on stage I couldn’t take my ears and eyes away. She, unlike many of the the most seasoned performers in the world, feels the music and conveys those emotions to her audience. She lives the notes. I truly believe that there is an enormous career ahead of her if she gets the right people around her and makes the kind of music she began leaning into throughout the course of The Voice. (“Tennessee Rain” is a legitimately wonderful track!) It is rare that someone comes along with the entire package – the voice, the stage presence, the songwriting skills, and the adorable and genuine personality. Watch out for this one. She is a superstar.

“Call Me Mother” on SYTYCD by Mark Kanemura

So You Think You Can Dance was another show that I’d sadly given up on following but found my way back to in 2017. The format had changed a bit since I’d last watched and I’d found it to be more exciting and than ever before. The all-stars brought so much to the show (I will watch Robert Roldan dance anything, anytime, forever) and the choreography was off the charts, not to mention the immense talent of the Season 14 contestants. The highlight of highlights however was a group number during the Top 8 episode that was choreographed by SYTYCD alum Mark Kanemura to the song “Call Me Mother” by RuPaul. Talk about a convergence of favorite things! Kanemura is a staple in my daily social media life with his hilarious Instagram antics (and obsession with Carly Rae Jepsen) and RuPaul is one of the most amazing humans on the planet, so when this number began my heart paused as to not interrupt the magic of it all. The unique choreography style that Kanemura has doesn’t always land, and his Gaga-dancer-days show up in certain moments, but this was the rare convergence of right song/right time/right moves/right performers. It all just worked, and it did so because of the bold (brave?) choices that Kanemura makes. He’s a person filled with unbridled energy and in this case his “go big or go home” style made for a hugely entertaining success. #YouRideThatTrainGurlllll

Football?!

Immediately following the dance number above, this seems an unlikely entry in the list. It’s as surprising to me as it is to most of my family and friends when I say that one of my favorite things from the last year was sitting down and voluntarily watching professional football. I’d avoided watching sports on television for most of my life, hiding out in my room while my father and brother took in game after game, but a joke interest in the Seattle Seahawks turned into a legitimate love of the NFL. I became a “fan” of the Seahawks because I liked their uniforms. My favorite color combination (my “wedding colors” as I’m annoying known to say) is bright green and navy blue and the northwestern vibe of the logo is an interesting departure from the mundanity of the rest of the NFL logo lineup. I watched a few games and began paying a little more attention to their coach and some of the players, and ended up finding myself getting more invested than I’d anticipated. I’d become a legitimate “12” and picked up a “backup team” along the way, too (Go Panthers!). It turns out that there’s a lot to appreciate in the game – and the athleticism, strategy, and philosophy behind the sport aren’t really that far away from my alternate universe of marching band & drum corps. Who knew?!

Santa Clara Vanguard, “Ouroboros”

Speaking of that alternate universe, one of the things that gave me immense joy in 2017 was the show “Ouroboros” by the drum and bugle corps Santa Clara Vanguard. The mythical snake-eating-it’s-tail idea was turned into an impeccably designed, cohesive, exciting, and original production that was performed at an unbelievable level. The uniforms (with their supper body serpent detail and scale-effect circular pattern), the musical selections, the gorgeous flag designs, the ridiculously effective choreography and movement, and those brilliant props! It all coalesces into one of my favorite drum corps shows of all time. Second place has never looked (or sounded) so good.

Sterling K. Brown, This Is Us & Elisabeth Moss, The Handmaid’s Tale

As with Addison Agen earlier in the list, there is something unexplainable about the actor Sterling K. Brown and the performances he gives. A standout in The People V. O.J. Simpson: American Crime Story, he burst onto the scene and began picking up awards at every turn, but it is his stunning portrayal of “Randall Pearson” on This Is Us that establishes him as one of the best actors working today. I can’t pinpoint what exactly he does that makes me feel the way I feel when I watch him on screen. He, like Addison with music, strikes that nerve. He finds layers within a character and he manages to bring them all forward. A look, a tear, a monologue…he breathes life into the story and elevates it in a special way. Each week I tune in and find myself with tears in my eyes, saying, “I love him so much.”

Similarly, Elisabeth Moss astounds in every single second of her time on Hulu’s accolade-stealing hit, The Handmaid’s Tale. The show is a masterpiece (episode four is one of the most gorgeous, haunting, brilliant episodes of television I’ve ever seen) but it is vaulted into the atmosphere by the central performance of Moss as “June Osborne / Offred.” It is not an overstatement to say that she can command a scene and say paragraphs with only her eyes. She is beyond gifted as an actress and there is no denying that she is also one of the best in the business.

Museums

During my time at Iowa State University this past year I began looking more closely at museums and expanding my already large interest in art and exhibitions. I began the year with an internship on campus at the Textiles & Clothing Museum. It was a wonderful experience that forever changed the way that I look at museums and the objects they contain. With more knowledge of the behind-the-scenes process I developed a deeper appreciation for a good museum and all that it can offer. On the surface museums offer a place for the public to explore the treasures of the world and expose us to animals, paintings, sculptures, clothing, science experiments, and minerals that we otherwise would never get the chance to view. But they are so much more. They are institutions of learning for the most educated individuals doing research and for children on class field trips, and everyone in-between. They are a form of artistic expression in their own right, each having a specific vision and mission statement, and each working to enrich the world in a different way. Over the course of the year I made stops at many superb places including: The Des Moines Art Center (“Drawing in Space” was a phenomenal), the Metropolitan Museum of Art (what can you say other than WOW?), Cooper Hewitt (so unique and interactive – the future of the small museum!), The Museum at FIT (a tour with the curator of “Paris Refashioned, 1957-1968” was so enthralling that I came back only hours later to tour the whole museum), MoMA (Seeing Vincent van Gogh’s The Starry Night in person was so moving that I walked away to avoid crying in public), The Field Museum (an interesting look at the history of the tattoo was a highlight), the Joslyn Art Museum (gorgeous building!), the State Historical Museum of Iowa (where I kept gravitating back towards “Hollywood in the Heartland“), as well as Taliesin (Frank Lloyd Wright’s home and studio in Spring Green, WI.), and the zoos (Which are considered museums! Fun fact!) in Des Moines, IA., Madison, WI., Indianapolis, IN., and Chicago, IL. (Lincoln Park).

Cooper Hewitt, NYC

Joslyn, Omaha

State Historical Museum of Iowa

DSM Art Center

Theater (and NYC!)

I love theater. I especially love musicals, but anything on a stage will do. I attend a handful of productions each year but this year I outdid myself. Aside from the shows on national tours (Mamma Mia!, Fun Home, The Curious Incident of the Dog in the Nite-Time, Something Rotten!, Shaping Sound Co. (dance), and The Color Purple) my husband and I went all out during our vacation to NYC in March and in one week we saw 6 more productions! The Glass Menagerie was our first-ever play on Broadway and it featured Sally Field, Finn Wittrock, Joe Mantello, and Madison Ferris. The sparse staging and unique direction from Tony Award-winning director Sam Gold made for a polarizing production that ultimately failed to win over many of the critics and the most ardent theater-goers. Overall it was an unforgettable experience and quite the way to kick off our week in the city. Sunday in the Park with George was such a draw for us that we moved our trip back a few days so that we could catch the show before it closed. We couldn’t have made a better decision. It’s hard to describe how it felt to be sitting in that theater watching Jake Gyllenhaal and Annaleigh Ashford sing some of the most incredible songs ever written for the theater. I wasn’t a super fan of Stephen Sondheim, though I had enjoyed Sweeney Todd  and Into The Woods, but this experience changed everything. Like Menagerie, there was a minimalist approach to the set design so the music and the performances were even more exposed than usual. I had expected to be distracted by Jake, being such a ginormous movie star, but I found myself unable to take my eyes off of Annaleigh. They were both remarkable (!!!) but there is that “something special” about Annaleigh and she was captivating. The whole show moved me so much more than I had expected. It was absolutely one of my all-time favorite theater moments.

Broadway Backwards was a last minute splurge for us in an attempt to avoid the unexpected cold and snow that accompanied a surprise winter storm during our “spring break” trip. While technically not a Broadway show, it was a stage production that took place in the area and had numerous Broadway actors, so it counts! Josh Groban, Cynthia Erivo, Julie White, Sierra Boggess, John Glover, Andrew Rannells, Santino Fontana, Carolee Carmello, Kathleen Turner, Andrew Keenan-Bolger and Jay Armstrong Johnson, as well as many other, performed songs written for the “opposite gender.” It was a once in a lifetime BLAST. We loved every moment of it. Then, there was the real reason we had made the trip to NYC: Dear Evan Hansen. I can’t say anything other than it instantly became my favorite musical of all time and Ben Platt’s performance will forever be seared into my mind. He was beyond words. I honestly cannot describe it without getting worked up and babbling endlessly. If you have not seen it, you must find a way. Even without Ben in the lead, it must not be missed. Seriously.

The same day that we saw D.E.H, we scored cheap tickets at the last minute for The Great Comet. It was the most complete theater experience I’ve had. From the moment you walked through the front doors into the lobby area you were transported to another time and place. The dilapidated walls adorned with Russian propaganda and the harsh fluorescent lighting in the “bunker” catch you off guard but, more importantly, they create a contrast that becomes apparent when you finally enter the main theater. Inside it is a velvety-red Swarovski fantasy. With 20,000 Swarovski crystals on the (gorgeous) starburst chandeliers, and another 110,00+ on the costumes, the entire room sparkled nearly as bright as the comet at the heart of the show. The immersive staging took everything up a notch and created an experience unlike any other. I didn’t always follow the famously complicated story line nor did I enjoy ever tiny aspect of the musical’s book, lyrics and score, but my goodness, what a production! Lastly, we finished out our week in Manhattan with a show that we had planned to see a year before when it first opened, Waitress. A change in plans meant that we had to wait to see Sara Bareilles’ heartwarming, hilarious, brilliant music come to life on stage. It was worth it. Christopher Fitzgerald and Drew Gehling made me laugh so hard I was in tears. Jessie Mueller demonstrated why she is one of the best on Broadway. We got to see the show again when it came to Des Moines on tour and it was just as wonderful the second time around. I wish I could bottle the feeling I have when I leave a theater after watching a show and keep it on hand for when I need a little boost in life. It is my therapy.

***OH! And, Caroline Rhea sat directly in front of us (a few rows behind Josh Gad) and took a selfie with us. So, basically, the BEST DAY EVER.

CAROLINE RHEA!

The Lonely, Swimming Pygmy Sloth from Planet Earth II

By far the weirdest entry in my list, this little guy stole my heart and I smile every time I think about him. A Pygmy Sloth is shown looking for a mate on an episode of Planet Earth II, and it is must-see television. It is narrated by David Attenborough and that spectacularly written script is key to the cuteness factor of the video (sadly the video below does not contain that narration). We learn that he hears a female across a body of water so he swims his little self across, only to find that the object of his affection already has a baby and is unable to mate. It. Is. So. Ridiculously. Adorable. Do yourself a favor and watch the entire series, which is astounding, and get the full version of this slothiest-sloth thing that has ever been.

“The Hilarious World of Depression” Podcast / John Green / VlogBrothers / NYT Article

The phenomenal book of John Green’s that I talked about at the top of this 3000-(and counting)-word post tied in with a set of other things that were extraordinarily important to me this past year. John appeared on a podcast that I’d fallen in love with called “The Hilarious World of Depression.” It solidified my appreciation for that podcast and made it something that I look forward to on a weekly basis. There’s something to be said for hearing people talk openly about the things that society has told us we should be ashamed of. I have spent my whole life feeling like my anxiety and depression were secrets that I had to mask and pretend didn’t exist. With this podcast you’re able to see that funny, famous, “important” people also have these issues, and we shouldn’t shy away from discussing them. It is only through bringing these things into the conversation that we will begin to remove the stigma, and possibly save lives.

John and his brother, Hank, also have a YouTube channel called “Vlogbrothers,” and I have grown to love their quirky uploads that explore a vast array of topics. Recorded as messages to each other, Hank and John shed light on different subjects but, more importantly, show us who they are as human beings. They are open and genuine, both qualities that aren’t currently overflowing in the social media world. It’s refreshing. Again, seeing them deal with their demons makes it just a little bit easier to deal with my own. Speaking of which, the last random part of this entry in the list is an article from the New York Times that came into my life at that darkest of dark times. It was called, “Why Are More American Teenagers Than Ever Suffering From Severe Anxiety?” and I had never read anything that discussed certain parts of my past in the way that this piece did. I missed a very large chunk of elementary school when I got sick at school and subsequently could not go back. I had a meltdown and became so afraid that I’d get sick again that I refused to leave my house. It was a terrible experience, working with someone to help me get in the car…then drive to the school…then get out of the car…then go into the school…each as their own step, over multiple days. I’d always held that somewhere deep within me, ashamed and absolutely convinced that my experience was complete unique. This article, published 24 years after my struggle, finally showed me that what I had gone through had a name – emetophobia. They describe it in this article as, “a fear of vomit that can be so debilitating that people will sometimes restrict what they eat and refuse to leave the house, lest they encounter someone with a stomach flu.” It turned out that I wasn’t crazy, and other people had dealt with similar things. I found myself in so many of the people described in the piece. It rang true and gave me the courage to finally reach out and begin my journey towards a life in which my mental health no longer controls me. It will be a struggle, but I’m grateful for this assortment of authors, podcasters, and vloggers that have already made it easier.

https://www.nytimes.com/2017/10/11/magazine/why-are-more-american-teenagers-than-ever-suffering-from-severe-anxiety.html?mtrref=www.google.com&gwh=299DF44B0602F2616509623F61F4A9D7&gwt=pay

The Costumes and Production Design of Film and Television

Lastly, some of my favorite things this past year were costumes and sets in television shows and films. As an apparel-minded person I’ve always been drawn to costumes but my interest in the production design, cinematography, and the overall design of the entertainment I consume is new. I’ve opened my eyes to the whole product instead of just focusing solely on what the characters are wearing. The costumes have more purpose now and they are more meaningful because they exist within a complex world that has layers of meaning. Each detail comes together to tell the story and that makes for a richer viewing experience. Some highlights of the year were: The Marvelous Mrs. Maisel (which I have discussed briefly here), The Shape of Water (a bit about the production design here), Guardians of the Galaxy Vol. 2 (even though I did not care for the film itself), The Crown, Wonder Woman, Beauty and the Beast, The Greatest Showman, Will & Grace, Riverdale, The Handmaid’s Tale, and Schitt’s Creek.

The Perfect Pink (©Amazon)

The Marvelous Mrs. Maisel ©Amazon

Sally Hawkins & Richard Jenkins in The Shape of Water

“Sally Hawkins in a scene from Shape of Water. The window arch was directly inspired by one in 1948’s The Red Shoes” ©Kerry Hayes/Twentieth Century Fox Film Corporation.

GotG Vol 2. “Ayesha (Elizabeth Debicki)” – Photo: Film Frame/Marvel Studios

GotG Vol 2. “Mantis”

Elizabeth and Philip – The Crown ©Netflix

Princess Margaret – The Crown ©Netflix

Wonder Woman

Beauty and the Beast 2017. Designs by JACQUELINE DURRAN – Photo ©EW

Rebecca Ferguson – The Greatest Showman

Hugh Jackman and the cast of The Greatest Showman

Fendi Jacket from Will & Grace

Will & Grace Christmas Episode ©Chris Haston/NBC

Riverdale ©Diyah Pera/The CW

Scene from The Handmaid’s Tale ©Hulu

Costumes from The Handmaid’s Tale ©Chris Chapman

Schitt’s Creek

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Faves From 2017 (It Wasn’t Completely Terrible!) Before throwing last year into the mental trash bin and letting ourselves get lost in looking forward, I thought it'd be good to stop and reflect on the things in 2017 that weren't terrible.

[fireontherun]

Where there's smoke

Julia: {When you're constantly on the run, you don't have the luxury of ever being comfortable. You don't always know the date, or how long you'll have in the place you're at. Circumstances can change on a dime, and if you decide to ignore a bad feeling you get, well, that could blow right up in your face. Its been five years since I escaped the last time and while I hope I can stay ahead of their end game, I never let myself forget what being in their hands was like. To them, I wasn't a human, I was an experiment. Hurt me until I went up in flames. If they could find a way to control my fire, they could control me. And worst case scenario, I would become a walking weapon that would be sold to the highest bidder. Five years ago, I threw a wrench in their plans by escaping compliments of a industrial fire I orchestrated, that burned so hot everyone and everything in the facility was reduced to ash. Standing in a dirty alley, I could hear the guards pleading to leave, plain as day, even if it was just a painful memory, years and miles away. A spark caught on the tips of my fingers and I quickly extinguished it, casting a glance around to be sure that no one had witnessed that. Discovering I was different could and had led to my capture before. No one could be trusted. I learned that lesson the hard way, and had a couple scars on my back as a permanent painful reminder. I blew out a deep breath and sunk deeper in the shadows and froze in place, my eyes watching as the stranger I had identified as a potential risk. He passed my hiding spot and my fear escalated. Fuck. He was definitely military. I made out at least three weapons, and I was sure there were more that I couldn't identify placement of. I counted in my head to thirty before slowly and stealthily moving from my location to follow my identified target. I would have to be even more careful with this follow since he was clearly not a civilian. I needed to know if he was here looking for me, or just passing through. I hoped the latter, because given the physique of that guy, it would not be a fun fight if push came to shove. I followed his moves for several minutes, stopping far enough behind he shouldn't have any suspicions, at least I hoped. Finally l, my pursuit paid off, my mouth formed a smile as I saw him enter a motel room with a key card.} Gotcha. {I whispered happily to myself, memorizing the room number and planning on going back later to search his room for intel. Nodding once and moving swiftly away from the man I'd been stalking and his hotel room feeling pretty pleased with myself.} Gabe: We'd fucked up in Kandahar. Uncle Sam sure as fuck wasn't gonna let us forget that; but a court-martial? Fuck if I was gonna let some paper pushing bureaucrat sign my death warrant. Seventeen months on the LAM, and I'd decided bounty hunting was the way to go. This project Juliet-6 the US government had its panties in a wad over looked to be my ticket outta "deadman walking" territory: track and locate the package, detain, neutralize if necessary. Seemed easy enough, but the days turned into weeks, weeks into months with still no leads, no sign of a populous-neutralizing weapon. Until an accident at a dispensary in Colorado caught my attention. How does the cause of a fire remain undetermined...in a place that deals pot? Fast forward over a few minor details to now, and the target, the sexy little arms courier who's only crime appears to be fucking the wrong guy--Yep, she's falling nicely into my trap. She thinks she's tailing me, but she's really tailing my decoy to the truckers' motel off the interstate. I slip out of the adjoining room, waiting for the opportunity to corner her, and when I do, her first clue is the sound of my gun cocking into her back. "Don't move. Just tell me where you've got the weapon stashed. Nobody needs to get hurt here, Sweetheart." Julia: {I thought I was clear. I thought everything would be fine, I could get in and get out and vanish into thin air like I had done a hundred times before. Until I felt a gun at my back and I knew I had made a mistake. Stiffening instantly, as I worked through all the angles how to get out of this without a bullethole, preferably. Turning my head to stare up at him. He was even bigger up close. And the intensity of his stare did not send a flush of warmth through me. Really not the time, Jul.} I think you've got the wrong girl, but if you're nice to me, /maybe/ I'll not make you sing soprano for a few weeks. {I turn around real slow, my eyes locked on his gun hand, ready to run if needs be, but hoping I can use my intellect to get out of this one unscathed. I still wasn't sure what all he knew so how much I could bluff, was still up in the air at the moment.} Gabe: "Make /me/ sing soprano? That's funny. You see, last I checked; I was the one with the gun, chica." Okay, so she's /really/ fucking sexy up close. And feisty to boot. "Don't. Move." I hold the gun on her, get her up against the wall, and give her a quick pat-down with the other. "You're not packing? Look, what's your name? Do you know where your boyfriend's keeping it? Is it at the club? Can you take me to him?" Or maybe I'll start slower and see if she can keep up. "What is /your name/?" Julia: "His hand never so much as wavered, and a rock steady gun hand was really bad news for me. I started to lick my lips nervously as my back pressed against the wall behind me. Think Jul. Your hands lingered a fraction of a second between my thighs in that pat down of yours and my body had a very visceral reaction. My gaze narrowing on your face. Trying not to absorb the details of your face as a woman would, because I don't really have time for...wait. Boyfriend? What boyfriend? My ears perked up as I thought on that one. The way you asked my name, would have made me laugh if it hadn't included a gun still pointing at me.} Just how bad do you want to know what's in my head, Ace? {I lean towards you, dropping my voice into an intentionally sensuous tone.} Do I get to pat you down now, or do you want to search me again? You know, in case you missed something... Gabe: Wait? Did she just? Is she? Is she /hitting/ on me? Some guys might get distracted from the mission at hand, but not me. I won't let this chick throw me off the hunt, especially if that's what her handlers want. A honeypot like her? Yep, she's designed for distraction. "Call me Jupiter. Or Jupe. Not Ace. Not Bud, Buddy, Mack, or Bub. And I didn't miss anything; trust me." I want answers. I want freedom from the land of the free. I realign my sights down her center mast, growing impatient. "Tell me what I need to know. I know you know about Juliet-6, so we either talk here or we talk someplace quiet; and you won't like someplace quiet, baby girl." I listen for movement around me, nostrils flaring, expecting an ambush. "Is Juliet-6 at the club? Is it at The Qube?" Julia: {And just like that, this whole dance we were doing escalated into red flag territory. Juliet-6? A code name I hadn't heard in years, but thanks to the number branded on my hip, I'd never forget it. I'm staring icily at you now, the gun ignored. He knows my designation, knows I'm supposed to be a weapon, but...doesn't know I am Juliet-6? Interesting, and I'm at a loss as to how exactly to play this, when you hand me my out with gold ribbon.} Alright, /Jupiter/. You can call me Angel. Let's not get messy with our real names. I don't have a boyfriend, but if you wanted to ask me out, you'd be in my panties by now if you didn't bring the gun. {I glance around, conspiratorially, leaning so far into you, pushing my chest against your gun hand, my breath tickles your face, speaking softly so you really have to pay attention to my mouth.} We can't talk about this here. Sitting ducks, you know? You want Juliet-6, take me to the club. {My lips curve into a sultry smile, while inwardly I'm ecstatic. Clubs equal lots of distractions and I only need one to get away from you. I don't know what lies you've been fed about Juliet-6, about /me/, but something is definitely rotten in Denmark.} Gabe: "Oh yeah?" I can't help but smirk, giving my imagination the thirty-second latitude to explore what that might be like if she were telling the truth. Which she's not. "🎶Just call me angel of the morning, Angel..." I scoff at her chosen nickname, whistling the rest as I grab her by the arm, jamming the gun up into her side. "How do you know my name isn't really Jupiter? Maybe my mom went through an astrology phase." She's no angel; that's for damn sure. Still, what she's got going on under those clothes makes a man appreciate sin. "C'mon. The club's not far. But you /know/ that." Julia: {You've got a sense of humor. Great. I was about to roll my eyes, when you moved your placement of that annoying gun, and a little bit too heavy handed as it digs into my side. I bruise easy, so that's going to leave a mark. My unease is growing at just how determined you are at completing whatever your assignment is. What happens if you find out that I'm what you're looking for? With a quiet smile, still hoping against a rapidly decreasing hope, that I can somehow use my physical attributes to tempt you into letting me go, or distracting you for long enough that I get the same result. Slipping my legs apart as I curl my hand around the gun in your hand, my shirt revealing just enough of my cleavage to say "come and get me". I'll be compliant for the time being simply because I don't have any other choice.} Right, Angels always hang out in clubs. You want me to go willingly, lose the over compensation hand piece for your dick. Gabe: Does she really think she's gonna pull the old James Bond love em and leave em, get em outta the way shit on me. It's like the analogies in grammar school; squirrel:shiny object :: men:breasts. "Ooh. Hitting me where it hurts, Ang. But, uh...in order to be overcompensating, you've gotta be packing something smaller than the beretta M9; you know what I'm saying?" Okay, so /maybe/ I tuck the gun into the pocket of my hoodie, but I'm not loosening my grip on her arm just so she can--ShitPiss! A patrol car rolls by, sending me ducking into the nearest doorway, pulling my hood up over my head and half my face. "Keep walking." Sooner we get inside'll be better. Sooner I get through this, too... Julia: {I stare silently at you as you're...bragging about your dick...well then. I'm not going to be picturing what you're packing in those pants of yours. No. Walking? Okay. Pretending I didn't notice that awkward effort to hide from the patrol car that just passed.Hmm. Wonder what that's about. Tucking that away for later, I keep moving toward the club. I'm not sure why you think I would be here. Well, why Juliet-6 would be here. I didn't make a habit of...oh shit. Halfway to the bar I see two familiar faces. High level employees of the same "Doc" that was behind the experiments I endured for most of my life. They're at my two o'clock and you're at my six. I...have less than ten seconds before those monkeys see me. I spin, breaking free of your hold on my arm, and dive in. If I don't blend in now, I'll be strapped to a table in half an hour. It could be worse, at least you're not bad looking. My last thought before kissing you? If it doesn't work, my hand is closer to your gun.} Gabe: "Aw, naw. C'mon--What're you?" What the...fuck? I don't even have time to act. My hand reacts, bringing the gun, pocket and all, up into her chest, before it's calmed the hell back down by her pouty caramel lips. It's just a kiss, right? A damn fucking good kiss, but still just a kiss. Our lips snarl, struggling against each other in this fucked up little power play we got going. "Just can't keep your hands off me; can ya, baby girl?" My eyes scan the room for the real reason she's getting so friendly. Something's wrong here. Julia: {I blink up at you, my fingers touching my mouth, still feeling the force of yours. That, was possibly the worst thing I could have done is the last thought I had before I heard a voice that haunted my nightmares, my expression of terror unable to be hidden before I grab your arm and pulling you hard to come with me. At the resistance, I looked over my shoulder hoping they weren't close enough to grab at me, pleading you with my gaze.} Please, I'll explain outside. Just. Not. Here. Please. Gabe: Maintaining a periphery, my eyes settle back on her face, trying to get a good read. She's surprised even herself with that kiss. Or maybe she just didn't expect it to be that good? Okay, that was more than a flicker of fear of being caught in possession; more than the fear of my gun, which, surprisingly, she didn't show. A healthy fear of firearms is a respect for their power. And she? She's desperate to get out of here. Like, mortally desperate. My arm winds around her, pulling her within whisper range. We could pass for a couple of handsy lovers if there were trust here. "The weapon." I mutter, eyeing the men over her shoulder. It's gotta be close, but we're surrounded. I pull her by the waist, cutting through the crowd to the fire door. "Hold up." Spotting the pull station for the fire alarm "Just like high school." I give the handle a tug, and alarms blaring, sprinklers soaking, we make our exit with the crowd. "We've gotta get off the street." Julia: {That was just too close. I'm telling myself that's why I'm so rattled, it doesn't have anything to do with the taste of you lingering on my lips. They. Almost. Caught. Me. I'm probably shaking, as I run from the club with you, as soon as I'm in the fresh air, all exit routes I had preplanned rush into my memory and I'm leading you up one street and down another stopping outside an abandoned building, picking the locks, pushing you inside, and following right behind. I rest my forehead on the inside of the door, trying to stop trembling before I face you again. A slow breath in and out before turning around.} You almost got me killed, Jupiter. Angels aren't cats, I don't have nine lives, you asshole. Gabe: I'm watching her very carefully as she catches her breath. Me? I'm fine. I almost feel sorry for her. Until she opens that mouth. Kitty's got claws, alright. "How's that? Hey! HEY! You wanna rewind a sec? I just saved your ass back there! You had one job: point me in the direction of the motherfuckin' weapon! Huh? Cuz I don't think it's in...Dale's boot bonanza here!" I kick a box across the warehouse, sending a plume of dust flying. "I sure as hell don't see it! Where is it?" I fly up on her like any other enemy combatant in interrogation, pinning her to the door by her throat before I really realize what I'm doing. "WHERE. IS. IT? People will DIE! Do you get that?!" Slowly, I come to. My look softens to an icy stare and I remove my hand, blocking her against the door with my body. "Give me something. Please." Julia: {I wince as my back hits the door, your hand on my throat, squeezing the air from my windpipe. I'm clawing angry slashes at your hands and arms trying to get the vise-like hold off, a ton of memories of this happening before, so many times before, flooding my head. Nearly falling when at last I'm let go. At least my throat is released. You are still very much pinning me, this time it's with the massive form that is you. I'm gasping to regain the air I couldn't get moments before. After several long tense moments, I try to speak, my voice coming out a little on the hoarse side but getting louder with each word I say.} You want Juliet-6? You don't even know what she is. She isn't a weapon. She's a /person/. {I pause to take another deep breath, staring sorrowfully at you.} Gabe: "Person? You mean?" I stare at her as understanding breaks over my features. /She's/ the bargaining chip I've been hunting for over the past seventeen months? She's the key to freedom? "I've gotta take you in. I mean--" She looks so damned sad. Then there's the fear that clouded her eyes before. My freedom would mean her imprisonment. Which was different when /she/ was just an object, a gun or a bomb or something. "I'm sorry. Let me think. I need to think." I push off and take a step back, holding my hands up. "How? How are /you/ a weapon? Hm?" Wouldn't be the first time I'd been lied to in the name of progress, aka conquering the world. I rub my thumb and forefinger down my mouth, scratching at the scruff on my chin. "There's more to you than meets the eye, baby girl." Julia: {Filled with fear as I hear those dreaded words from your lips. No. Did I /really/ just run from the club to get handed right back to the very same men we left behind? Is this for real? I unzip my pants, pulling down on the waistband to show you the tattooed~~number six low on my right hipbone.} Identity can be confirmed by a specific scanner. Which I'm sure you don't have. {Moving to put my clothes back in order and continuing to stare you down. My body isn't reacting to him continuing to call me baby girl. Well, maybe it is, the damn traitor.} I don't want to be a weapon, why do you think I've been running? You can't turn me in. Please. Don't. Gabe: I'm a mix of flailing arms and averted eyes as she starts unzipping her pants. "Whoa whoa whoa-ho! What're you?" To show me the brand: courtesy of the US Government. After her little show and tell, I keep my eyes glued to the place that was just naked, still stuck on the lacy...whatever those were. Thong? G-string? Angel make you drool somethin' somethin'? "Yuh huh." I clear my throat and try to remember what we were talking about. Don't turn her in; right. I shake my head. "Yeah, but if I don't, /I/ can't/ stop/ running. Do you get that?" Of course she understands running. Who knows how long she's been isolated? What is she? And why is she so dangerous? "Are you a threat? I mean, who's to say I can trust you?" There's a shuffle and a can rolling outside, and by instinct I pull her away from the door, my finger to my mouth. Julia: {I wondered why your gaze was still glued to below my waist, and I glanced down, blushing when I realized my lace panties were still sort of visible. Closing my eyes against your words, hating what you were saying. Great. Your life or mine? Well I guess I'm back to being a human lab rat. That's. Just. Great.} You're asking how /you/ know if you can trust /me/? I'm not the one holding a missile over someone else's head. I already know what you're going to do, so just go ahead, return me to them. I don't know why you think I would tell you anything, when nothing I say will make a difference. All I am is a get out of jail free card, I'm not even a /person/ to you. {My voice is tinged with resignation when you grab me, causing me to stumble against you, feeling the heat of your so very muscular form right through your clothes. My eyes drift to your mouth and remember the way you kissed me back in the club. A frisson of heat spears through me, pooling wetness between my legs as my gaze rises to meet yours in heated silence.} Gabe: Will this chick ever shut up? Backing her against another wall, my hand clamps over her mouth, and I wait, listening for movement. "Shhh..." I take a peek through the dirty panes of a busted window. It must've been the wind or something. Nothing here smells /off/ to me. Taking my hand down, our eyes connect. Her words stung us both, cutting deep. "You have my word, Ang: I won't turn you in." I don't think I could live with myself. But that scene back at Qube? The frisk? Those, I could stand repeating. Her body is just too fucking close to mine not to feel nostalgic. Or riled up. Closer. Closer. Hands on either side of her, I move in for the kill--I mean kiss; well-past suffocating and buried hard between her lips. Julia: {I'm just...did he say he wouldn't turn me in? The words rattled in my head, but made no sense. Why would you say that? Either you're better at this game than I first thought, or...you're serious. My eyes narrow as I study you, forgetting everything the moment your face changes. Your arms boxing me in between the wall and you and the way you're looking at me as if you're suddenly hungry nearly makes me whimper out loud. The rough way you kiss me, as if my mouth holds all the secrets you've most wanted, makes me burn. My hands move upwards to rest on your chest as I half heartedly attempt to fight against your mouth's utter possession of mine, before the intensity simply tears my defense down, one swirl of your tongue against mine at a time. This is...bad. But oh so damn good and I don't want to stop. My thighs part ways and I slide one in between yours, wondering if this has your brain as much mush as mine.} Gabe: This is the one time the din of all the chaos inside my brain dies down, focusing on one determined cause. My lips wrestle with hers until we both need to breathe; and even then, I'm nipping at hers for more. Where she grinds, a rock hard bulge grows between her thighs. I can't help but wonder if that line about getting into her panties was true or not, so I discard the gun. And the jacket, the shirt, etc. With one fell swoop, I hoist her legs around my waist, pinning her between the wall and a sudden onslaught of half-starved kisses. I grind up into her, already on fire, itching to feel those wet, lacy thingamajigs. This is crazy! I know it's crazy! "I...want you." Julia: {By the time our mouths /finally/ separate, my lips are swollen from having been so thoroughly kissed, and I'm having trouble breathing your gloriously hard dick is rubbing me in all the right ways, and I know my panties...and my cunt for that matter, has got to be drenched. All reasonable thought has left my brain, all I can think about is how warm my skin is, and that painful ache that will only be relieved with you finding your way inside me. Nodding at your words, even as I whisper} I /need/ you. {My fingers fumble at the fastenings on your pants and mine...trying and failing to multitask, even as I return my mouth to yours seeking more of the way your lips and tongue can make me feel.} Gabe: My lips roll up into hers, smooth as butter, giving her a preview of what's to come, only less gruff. "Here, let me--" Keeping her in position with my hips, her legs already wrapped around me, I do away with the jeans, letting them drop to my ankles as I tear open her fly, ripping through the soaked panties underneath. Her scent fills the air right before I /spear/ her to the wall, burying my cock balls-deep inside her. And that's when the rougher fuck starts, slow and solid like a fist, raising her along the cracked plaster. This isn't the "oh baby" kind of sex, either. Neither one of us is really saying much. There's a lot of heavy breathing, and some whimpers, but it's all in the eyes. Our eyes are locked...and there's no going back. But the faster I buck, the more she bounces, tensing my spine. Julia: {Gasping when you drive into me, feeling like I might split in two. I didn't even get to admire what you'd been packing, but from the tiny twinge of pain as my cunt stretches around your cock, that was one very large package. Definitely wasn't overcompensating for /anything/. My body feels like it's on fire at the way you're relentlessly pounding into me. The friction on my insides with every stroke, creating a tempest of a storm inside me as the pleasure steadily and swiftly increases. Suddenly with one shift of my hips, the change in position stabbing right against my /instant/ orgasm button in /just/ the right way, and my head falls back, my climax overwhelming me, and moaning loud and long.} Fuck! Gabe: I've never had an encounter /quite/ like this before. Every time she bobs on my shaft it's like having white lightning shooting through my limbs. Her orgasm? Mind fucking blown; like nothing I've ever experienced. Her pussy becomes a vise on my dick and I think I can see literal sparks fly. Like, bulbs exploding around me kind of sparks. I might get distracted if it weren't for the moaning sex goddess writhing at the end of my cock, forcing me to empty my load. "Hoooly. Holy shit." My hips slow to a rolling stop as I collapse, and lean into her, trying to process what just happened. "This was--We should--We can't stay here." I kiss her temple, letting her feet touch the floor. I don't even know her real name. I just fucked a mark. And I don't even know her name. Back up go my jeans. Julia: {The kiss to my temple caught me more off guard than the way my body initially reacted to yours. I let myself lean against the wall while I refasten my jeans, my legs feel a bit shaky, and who knows where my panties went after they got ripped. My voice breaks the silence} Julia. {I shrug slightly, meeting your eyes as I head to the exit.} My name is Julia. Do you have a planned evac, or is this my show? {I swing the door open, and step out into the fresher air watching you only two steps behind me when I feel a sharp sting on my neck my fingers reach up to rub the pain away, and I feel the end of a tranq dart. Glancing over at you and I see that you are sporting an identical dart protruding from your shoulder. Shit. My eyes and body feeling heavy as I hit the ground, claimed by the darkness.}