#and of course gender fluid kevin

[that-vampire-loser]

Renee Walker has always and will always be nonbinary to me

[ckneal]

A detail I didn't include in the royalty AU I posted about awhile back, in which part one features Adam posing as Dean in Michael’s court, is that Raphael is actually gender fluid. 

This is mostly due to the fact that I adore both versions of Raphael in the canon, and refuse to choose between them. But I also thought that it might be a fun way to trip Adam up when he first arrives in the Shurley courts, because while the kingdom that Adam is from isn't a complete backwater--Dean, after all, is crown prince and openly bisexual, and there were rumors (nothing strictly confirmed) that John and Mary’s marriage may have become an open situation of sorts—Adam's from a fairly rural small town, and he's never seen someone with the resources to truly change their appearance from day to day to the extent that Raphael can, should they be so inclined. Hair, clothes, height, body shape—even Raphael’s voice and facial features were seemingly subject to change.

The first time that Raphael decides to alter their appearance, they're at a banquet, and Adam actually taps the person sitting next to him to ask who the woman sitting in Raphael's seat is, and is given an odd look. Thankfully, Kevin is nearby and sees Adam’s confused frown when he’s told that the person he’s talking about is Raphael.

“What? No way, that can’t be—”

Kevin deliberately spills a glass of wine down the back of Adam’s shirt and clamps an iron-gripped hand onto his shoulder as he insists that “Prince Dean” allow him to help him change before the next course is served.

Once in private, he explains to Adam that he’s being rude.

"But HOW is that Raphael? His—I mean, her. . .their. . . face?"

"Makeup? I don't know, and it's not our business to know. Wasn't this in the briefing they gave you back home?"

". . .What briefing?" 

Speed had been the main objective when Adam was being prepped to go into the Shurley court, because—and I cannot stress this enough—Sam and Dean would not have signed off on the plan if they knew it was happening. Mary signed off on it, and John's people sent Adam over as quickly as possible, least either of the two actual princes found out what was going on. As such, there were a lot of gaps in Adam's knowledge that Kevin would realize he was probably supposed to compensate for—not just details about Dean, but etiquette too, which would only become more stressful when he and Adam found themselves stranded. 

That’s not to say that he was hopeless, but with Adam ill prepared to perpetuate a long term con, Kevin made a point to lay down certain rules—one of which was presented as being unreasonably simple, “AVOID RAPHAEL.”

From the moment that Adam and Kevin arrived in the Shurley courts, no one had been more suspicious of them than Raphael, and while Kevin can shamelessly throw himself into being the clingiest and most possessive manservant the Shurley court has ever seen in his efforts to keep “Dean” in line, Raphael was faultlessly observant, and Kevin had a hunch that they wouldn’t been fooled by the bumbling servant act if Kevin tried to get between them.  

“It’s just one person, it shouldn’t be hard,” Kevin said, and completely ignored the fact that Adam literally had to scan every face in the crowd looking for Raphael, because who knew what Raphael looked like on any given day?

Adam was just. . .out of his depth.

One night, Adam was watching Raphael weave through the moves of a court dance with roughly a dozen or so other nobles after dinner. Raphael was in a luxurious purple gown that accentuated every step that Raphael took and complimented the pearls worked into their hair—and Adam was sitting there, thinking that at least when Raphael was dancing, he didn’t need to worry about them somehow catching him putting his low-born foot in his mouth. Mistaking Adam’s interest in the dancers, however, Adam learned that he was still perfectly capable of putting his foot in his mouth without Raphael watching, when he noticed Michael approaching in his peripheral vision, nd as he was scrambling to bow—as per the stifling Shurley custom—was completely flabbergasted when Michael asked if he would like to dance.

Having grown up in a rural town, worked his way into going to school—at a college that may or may not have received a royal push without his knowledge, after a pointed letter from his mother sent to the Winchester capital that would later be the very thing that put Adam on the royal family’s radar—Adam. . .didn’t know how to dance.

Nor how to gracefully withdraw from an invitation by a foreign prince who happened to be his host.

“I. . .uh. . .think my servant poured wine down my shirt earlier—excuse me!”

And thus, Adam ran out of there.

Adam and Kevin had been in the habit of routinely going over the events of the day before bed each night, while Adam made a point of undressing himself, because he certainly didn’t need a manservant to help him do it, and Kevin did his best to advise Adam on what he could do better to keep their cover from being blown in the future. It was only marginally comforting to know that Kevin had evidently been too preoccupied with the other duties that came along with being a servant in such a large castle to witness Adam’s clumsy rejection of Michael.

Of course, when Adam mentioned that he didn’t know how to dance, Kevin shot him the now familiar long suffering look of of-course-you-don’t that Adam had come to recognize. It only faltered when Adam, deciding to side step sharing the newest installment of personal cringe memories, asked, “So um. . .can you teach me to dance?”

“. . .Why?”

“Well, I’m here, right? And they do that every night, ish?”

“Yeeeah. . . But as a guest in this court, you don’t have to.”

“Well, does Dean know how to dance?”

“. . .You’re following.”

Kevin then proceeded to get up and spend the rest of the night leading Adam through the steps of three different dances. Dean, of course, knew how to lead and follow in a lot more, but Kevin didn’t have the time for that. Servants had to get up at dawn to start their daily routines, and besides, “Do you have any idea how many stairs are in this place?”

Adam wasn’t about to complain. He practiced the steps as well as he could remember them—more nervous than he would have liked to have admitted, because of course Michael was as nerve-wracking to be alone with as Raphael, but at least the kind of panic that Michael inspired was a kind that Adam felt comfortable with. Sort of. He’d had crushes before, but of course those hadn’t been in high-stakes situations that just might get his head cut off and instigate another couple decades of warfare if he forgot himself and started flirting.

Not that he was trying to be flirtatious, when he got up after the evening meal had been cleared away and dancing started up in the main hall. Adam was just. . .being polite, when he made his way over to where Michael was watching the first round of dancers take their places, and the people at the tables around them thinning out, because the musical starting up was for one of the more common dances. And when Michael actually said yes somehow the erratic, flustered feeling banking in Adam’s limbs only became all the more pronounced. . .

But of course, what Adam didn’t take into consideration was that Michael had been literally raised to carry on his father’s war, as the crown prince and next intended king. Unlike Raphael, who had been third in line for the throne—a position that was often considered extraneous, and had afforded them the luxury of honing their talents in healing and diplomacy, and all sorts of courtly pasttimes. And as such, when Michael and Adam took their places with the other dancers, if Adam was clumsy as a follow, Michael was perfectly matched as a lead.

And people looking on might have even commented that the two of them seemed to be perfectly in synch, in a “unique” sort of way—right up until the point when the dance required everyone to switch partners with the couple next to them, and Adam found himself in the arms of Raphael, who had traded their extravagant flowing gown and lustrous curls of the  night before for an impeccably tailored suit and short hair—so strikingly different, that Adam hadn’t even realized who he’d set himself up to spend half the dance with until he was whirled away and greeted by the smooth, meticulously controlled voice saying, “Ah, Prince Dean. I see you’re getting close to my brother. How nice.”

[ghost0loxer]

Imagine, a gender fluid teenager like myself has a favourite/feel-good film and that film is “Just One of the Guys,”from the mid 80s.

Picture this: theatre class, we watch “She’s The Man”, a dreamworks film from the 2000s. And yet, the social justice issues within the film are glaringly obvious to today’s society. Don’t get me wrong, it can be a funny film in a group setting - but then there are scenes that are just uncomfortable. Now, we discussed these themes in class, but I just can’t help but think about the film that came before it. Yes, StM (she’s the mans) is a modern day adaption of Shakespeare’s “Twelfth Night” but I was thinking about the modern day adaption before StM, “Just One of the Guys” from the mid 80s.

I love this film. For multiple reasons, which I hope to discuss.

Number one, our main character. Terry Griffith is stubborn. If she thinks something is right, she won’t let anyone say no or get in her way. Now in some cases, this is great. It’s definitely a shift in the usual romantic comedy female lead (especially for the 80s). But it’s one of her biggest flaws. In the beginning, Terry doesn’t win a contest for a part-time job at the Sun Tribune. She believes her article was amazing, but she speaks with her English teacher and he gives it to her straight. “You don’t have what it takes to be a reporter.” Her article is boring; it’s about the nutritional value of the lunch menu in the school cafeteria, of course it’s boring. But the words her teacher tells her has her convinced it’s because she’s a woman. Thus, she leaves school for two weeks and transfers as a buy to another school who are holding the same competition. Once she gives her article, she is told almost the same thing, but this time, she’s given proper feedback to improve it. Of course, there was some irony with this scene between Terry and the teacher. “Just because you’re guy, doesn’t mean you can’t be sensitive or light.” Thing is, she doesn’t give up, she strives to fix it and finds a new angle. I love her determination, I love the way she doesn’t let others push her around. Furthermore, her transition to a man. In StM, Viola as a guy is made to be cringey and comedic, you watch and think, there’s no way a guy would do that. But Terry, having grown up with a younger brother and is actually smart, manages to nail the role. Sure, she has slip-ups, but she stays afloat and she’s not being over the top. She’s chill and convincing, yet you as the audience can tell she’s trying to appear masculine. Her lines are witty and she’s sharp. Someone has something to say, she’ll be able to backtrack and answer with a joke or sarcasm quickly. I like smart characters.

Another point, the way women are written in this film. A lot of women in this film are treated like shit, but it’s probably a realistic depiction of the 80s. Everyone is talking about dating and sex, it seems to be the only topic the women in this film speak about, unless they are Terry. Terry seems to be the only character in this film whose main goal is not romance or sex. She strives to be a reporter, she wants to prove herself, and she rejects the advances upon her frequently. Whether it’s the boys asking her on dates in halls, or her own boyfriend attempting to seduce her when her parents aren’t home, she doesn’t put them above herself, yet she still lets them down easily, unless they become more pushy (case in point, her boyfriend, Kevin, in the beginning). She can stand up for herself, but she’s not the only one. Her best friend, Denise is one of the many women looking for love, nevertheless, she holds standards. I will admit, I didn’t like Denise’s acting in the beginning; she’s not a great character, but even she manages to reject men’s advances constantly. She’s not afraid to say it bluntly and she expresses her true emotions when certain guys try to ask her out. She tells it to them straight, and I respect her for that (despite her lack of empathy for some). Terry’s brother is constantly hitting on Denise, but she stands her ground. She doesn’t hit him or curse him out, she spins words around him and always lead back to the key word “no.”

This is my third, and maybe final point, (because I’m not great at writing but I’m starting to get tired) the way they handle sexual orientation. It seems if you’re going to make a film about a cross-dressing woman who falls in love with a man, you have to discuss sexuality and this film is not afraid to. That was my biggest beef with StM, when Viola confessed her love to Duke, the made it blatantly clear that it was “weird” and “unusual”; the editing and music cuts. It was done for comedic purposes, but in that moment, it just made me cringe. Even when the principal marched onto the field during the big match to expose Sebastian as “the woman he was all along,” he used a big megaphone and said to the whole crowd this man is in fact a girl. If it were to happen in the real world, and this character was a trans male, that would be traumatizing and so so insensitive. I couldn’t help thinking the way they handled the reveal in StM was poor and shitty.

But with JOotG (just one of the guys)? It’s done respectfully. Throughout the film, Buddy, Terry’s younger, sex-obsessed brother (I have thoughts on this character), often refers to Terry as a transvestite or sexually confused. They make references about her dating other women and jokes. It’s not treated like taboo, but just something people normally talk about, and as a questioning kid when I first watched the film, I really needed that. Although it was used for jokes, the fact that it wasn’t treated like a silent topic made me think more of it and discover who I was; it was media like this that made me accept myself.

Even with the reveal. Kevin, Terry’s boyfriend (or ex boyfriend by the end), stomps up to Terry after she’s wrestled with the school bully and was dumped into the waves at prom. Rick, who’s been Terry’s friend (and is the male lead) throughout her time at his high school, immediately questions who Kevin is and he responds with a harsh and sure “Terry’s boyfriend.” Of course, that doesn’t expose Terry as female, but makes Rick assume she’s a homosexual. But instead of calling her weird or replying negatively, he answers Kevin’s question calmly and says he’s just a friend. There is no prejudice, no disgust, Rick is shocked, but that’s expected. Furthermore, this reveal not only does not alienate homosexuality, it puts the center of focus on the main characters rather than have the whole audience/prom witness this exchange. Sure, the rest of the school is watching but the camera never pans over to them, and even then, Terry drags Rick away from the crowds to a secluded area to explain more.

Even once they’re secluded, Rick doesn’t yell at her or is homophobic. He just says “I understand, you’re gay.” As we know, Terry is not in fact gay and she reveals this to him in a similar fashion as StM, at least it’s not flashing a whole crowd. But the thing that hits me, is the fact that it’s not used as a joke or for comedy. Throughout the film, they’ve mentioned homosexuality and being transgender, but it was used as a light-hearted joke (nothing insulting or derogatory). In this moment, it’s not a joke, and it’s the bare minimum for a emotional scene like this, but it always hits me.

Of course, Rick gets justifiably mad that he’s been deceived and he storms off. Terry’s flaw catches up to her here, as she kisses him in front of the prom guests, stubborn to make him realize how much she cares. ( I didn’t agree with this action to be frank, I cringed ). The crowd gasps and it’s the usual reaction to a homosexual kiss and Rick just pulls back, says “It’s alright everyone, he’s got tits,” and leaves with Deborah.

In true romantic comedy fashion, life moves on. Terry gets the job at the Sun-Tribune after writing her article about posing as a guy and everyone who was longing for love in the beginning has found it, except Terry. The ending, however, is Rick coming back for her after a couple (days? Weeks? Idk all I know is it’s summer by the time he comes back, how much space between prom and summer?) and they kiss, go on a date and all is good.

Now after writing this long ass post, I’ve come to realize the main reason I like this film. Sure, Terry is a good character (not morally sometimes, but she’s interesting to watch), the way women are presented also is good, but my main source of affection for this film (in comparison to StM) is the way they handle the switching of genders. I’m gender fluid, I don’t always like being a woman or a man, I switch almost daily and half the time can’t decide if I want to grow out my hair or cut it. Seeing Terry, originally a woman, manage to convince people she was a guy made me wish I could do it too. It made me realize, I don’t always like being a woman. I want to be a guy sometimes, and I want that to be accepted. It was media like this, like Ouran High School Host Club, like Bare: A Pop Opera, that made me understand my gender and sexuality. (Even media that didn’t have any relation to LGBTQ+ helped).

When I first heard of “She’s the Man”, I had hoped it would be like these pieces of media. And it wasn’t. It was an alright film, but made me feel disappointed and somewhat let down. And that’s why I just prefer Just One of the Guys. Maybe it wouldn’t float in today’s political climate, maybe I’m wrong for seeing these points as reasons it’s one of my favorites, but its still better than StM and is one of my favourite films.

[lionheartslowstart]

Gender Affirmation

If you’re new here, I’m gender-fluid. I’ve been extremely out and vocal about it for something like three years now. The majority of the time I identify somewhere between agender and “female.” Or, as I like to call it, “not a woman, but not NOT a woman.” However, I slide over the entire scale, and sometimes fall outside of it as well.

When I came out, I was with my ex “Kevin,” who was always supportive and accepting of my identity as a concept. In practice, however, it was different. I always felt like I couldn’t talk about my identity, like it made him uncomfortable in some way. There were certain boundaries he was never able to respect. For example, I normally don’t like to be called a “lady,” but he continued to playfully refer to me as a lady anyway, as it was something he had done for years. He never even made an effort to stop. He was also weird about holding hands with me or treating me like a partner in public whenever I presented as more masculine. I never truly felt like he accepted all of me, even though he claimed he did. It’s hard to explain, but it’s how I felt. And when I tried to talk to him about how I felt, he brushed me off (like he did with most things), and shut the conversation down. Which, of course, only reinforced my feeling that discussing my identity made him uncomfortable.

Meanwhile, I came out to my current boyfriend, “Thomas,” pretty early. Like, literally the first weekend he spent at my house after we met. He was essentially unfazed, and was just like “yeah, I accept you.” Still, I was pretty cagey about it for a good long while.

(Heads up, this post is about to get nsfw, but I’ll keep it vague.)

Well, a couple of months ago, Thomas randomly pulled me aside and was like, “Just wondering, have we ever had sex when you were feeling masculine and you didn’t tell me?”

I was caught off guard and immediately felt awkward. I basically said that yes, there were times I did feel more on the masculine side, but I didn’t want to say anything because I didn’t want to risk making him feel uncomfortable. I figured that it wasn’t necessarily something he needed to know, because it was still me he was having sex with. Thomas, who is always gentle and warm, told me that he always wants me to tell him whatever gender I’m feeling, regardless of the circumstance, and including during sex. He told me that he loves me as I am, and he wants to know all of me.

I decided to take Thomas at face value and embrace that. As we’re long distance, I don’t see him too much, so it didn’t come up for a while. However, while I was staying with him last week, the opportunity to vocalize my current gender identity in a sexual context, something I have not done for a very long time, finally arose.

Don’t get me wrong, it’s not like I never had this discussion with Kevin. But it was pretty rare, usually in vague terms, and it didn’t really affect the sex itself much. If it was discussed, it was basically just, “Hey, just so you know, I'm feeling pretty masculine right now.” “Okay,” and that was it.

This interaction was different. I believe Thomas already suspected I was feeling more masculine on that day, because he had attempted to playfully grope my chest and I had pointedly pushed his hands away. (I generally don’t experience dysphoria, but I do feel extremely dysphoric about my chest when I’m on the masculine end of the spectrum.) When things *cough* moved to the bedroom, he asked me, “Are you a bad girl?” I turned beat red and silently shook my head no. After a moment of contemplation, Thomas smiled and asked, “Ohhhhh, are you a bad boy?”

I had not thought I could turn any redder, but I did. No one had ever called me that before, let alone in the bedroom. And...I liked it? Not only that, but he had made the leap without me having to say anything, AND he catered to my gender, of his own accord. My heart smiled.

I will not go into further detail, but I will say that Thomas was extremely affirming in the bedroom. We had the kind of sex I wanted and was comfortable with at that time, I was able to fully engage as myself, and Thomas participated enthusiastically, making sure to consistently validate me. It was exciting, liberating, relaxed, and fun. And it was the first time that sex has been those things for me while I was a boy!

I won’t lie, it never even occurred to me that I could have gender-affirming sex. It never occurred to me that I could indulge in that part of my identity in that way, or that I could have a sexual partner who more than accepted me, but celebrated me, both in and out of the bedroom. I have no idea when the next time will be, but I’m intrigued by the prospect of finally getting to explore this part of my sexuality and gender identity. And I know I have a partner who is excited to do it with me.

[ms-maj]

Thrill Me, Chill Me, Fulfill Me

It only took three weeks to get six songs in, it’s cool. This one ended up being way harder than it needed to be. Song(s) that make you want to dance- Time Warp (or really any song from Rocky Horror). 

This is also the part where I heap copious amounts of gratitude at the feet of @theheavycrown​ for making this cohesive and also for the PERFECT graphic. She is best. 

“I can’t believe I let you talk me into this,” Jughead tried to get comfortable in his white boxer shorts and undershirt— he’d drawn the line at tighty whities—but without his beanie, he felt exceptionally exposed. 

Betty looked at him, wearing nothing but a thin satin slip and a bra that looked equal parts uncomfortable and sexy as hell. “I did no such thing. You were a willing participant when we discussed…”

“It’s hard to say no to you when your mouth—” her finger came up to silence him. 

“We’re here for Kevin, remember? It’s his first performance outside of Riverdale High and we promised we’d support him,” her finger lingered on his lip until he nods, smirking she slowly dragged it down until his eyes narrowed and he nipped at the tip.

Jughead could say, without question, that The Rocky Horror Picture Show was not his scene. He’d seen the movie, or parts of it, just once and decided pretty quickly that there was a reason it was a cult classic. He’d heard that it wasn’t the film, or the show, per se, but the event. The spectacle was what made it so special. Sitting in an auditorium full of half-naked people who ran the gamut of ages did not assuage his initial fears. Nor did the prop bag in his lap. (Why exactly did one need a rubber glove AND playing cards?)

But, Betty’s easy smile made being there just a skosh more palatable. The theater was dark, intentionally, he was sure. It was atmospheric, the din; the fraying curtains, the worn seats, the broken lights lining the aisles and running across the spanse of the stage. It had the faint underlying smell of decay he associated with places people refused to let go of. It lingered in every corner bar or old department store. It was the dirt and the dust embedded so deeply into the fabric of a place that removing it was practically sacrilege to the patrons. 

He could understand the appeal, wanting to preserve a piece of history as it was remembered. Just looking around at the crowd with their many costumes, some presumably older than himself, would attest to that. 

And being the cinephile he considered himself to be, he thought that being part and parcel for one of the biggest cult events in history would be more…

(Finish below the cut or on AO3)

“You made it!!” Kevin sashayed up the aisle to where they were seated. Betty, in all her scantily clad glory, leaned over him to stand and greet their friend. She did not return to her seat, just perched herself prettily on Jughead’s lap.

Kevin looked every bit in his element. Of course, if you were playing Dr. Frank-n-furter, you’d have to be damn good, and completely confident in yourself. He was assuredly both of those things, with his stocking-clad legs and red pumps. His black-gloved hands rested against his corseted waist as he apprised the group.

“I love that Archie looks the most uncomfortable even though he and Veronica are the only two in your group that are wearing actual clothes,” Kevin laughed as Archie flipped him the bird from their end of the row.

It had somehow been decided, if he remembered correctly between Betty and Cheryl, that the couples would be dressing as Brad and Janet, through the various stages of the film. Veronica and Archie got wedding Brad and Janet, Toni and Cheryl were dressed like the mannequins from the end, and he and Betty, underwear. 

“Who’d have thought Jughead Jones would come to Rocky Horror as anything but Eddie?” Betty threw her head back as his arms tightened around her midsection.

“Those Veronica’s pearls, Kevin?” 

“Of course,” he winked back. “I hope you’re ready for this, especially you virgins!” Before Jughead could question him, Kevin was headed back toward the stage and Betty was sliding off his lap and back into her seat, an indecipherable look settling onto her face. 

“Hey,” Jughead started leaning closer to Betty, “what does he mean virgins?”

She shrugged innocently. “Guess we’ll find out.” She pointed to the center of the stage where Kevin was now standing.

“Ladies and gentlemen, boys and girls, non-binary and gender-fluid friends, and my sweet, sweet transvestites, welcome, to Rocky Horror!” Kevin transformed on the stage, he owned it, he was Frank. 

The crowd whooped and hollered.

“It’s been brought to my attention that there are several very special virgins in our midst tonight,” he said, stalking across the stage toward the side of the theater they were seated at. 

“What are you gonna do to ‘em, Frank?” Jughead heard yelled back, a smattering of voices throughout but most surprising, three from right next to him. 

“We’re gonna pop your cherries real good tonight, virgins!” Jughead could feel the blood drain from his face, stark white aside from the crimson lipstick V that adorned his cheek.

“Betty,” he said lowly. “Please tell me this scarlet letter isn’t going to lead to my very public humiliation?” 

“C’mon Jug,” she cajoled from beneath the thick veil of her eyelashes. “You like a little humiliation.”

He growled without meaning to. “I like to be the one doling it out, Elizabeth, you should know that by now.”

Her soft hand landed on his thigh. “Maybe you’ll just have to make me pay for it then.”

Eyes narrowed on the half-naked marvel next to him, he ran his tongue ran across sharp teeth before his mouth settled into a ravenous smirk. The words in his throat died as the house lights went down and the spotlights hit the crowd. 

“All virgins—those of you who were marked upon coming in—please make your way to the stage!” Kevin’s voice cut through the haze, snapping Jughead back to the present and making him painfully aware of the torturous glint Betty’s eyes had taken. He noticed more than a few people making their way to the stage. Veronica had stood pulling Archie up behind her, inching their way toward him; the aisle.

“We’ll see if you’re smiling later, poppet,” Jughead didn’t miss the way Betty shivered when the words hit her. He let Veronica and Archie pass before standing, raising a warning brow to his girl and stalking toward the stage. 

He could hear them: Betty, Toni, Cheryl, cheering for them as they hit center stage, but with the spots firmly affixed back to the production, he could barely make them out in the audience. 

“Look at this collection of delightful little V’s. Aren’t they just the cutest?” Kevin was wedged between an ever-increasingly anxious Jughead and Archie who, fully clothed, was enjoying being in the lights. When Jughead scowled in response to Kevin pinching his cheek, Kevin moved down to Veronica who preened under his attention, much to the delight of the crowd. “Don’t they just look good enough to eat?”

A chorus of delighted cheers ran through the audience.

As the lights followed Kevin down the line, the crowd became a little easier to discern. He could feel Betty’s eyes on him, even before he could fix her location. From the stage she looked absolutely in her element, shouting out random things along with Cheryl and Toni, looking way too comfortable in her underwear. He hadn’t been too happy about that if he was being honest. No one else was supposed to see her that bare, and yet, the possessive pride that swelled in him when she caught every passerby’s eye was enough to let him overlook punishing her for that particular offense.

Her smart mouth was another story. And so was this. Whatever this was.

And then he felt it. Something awkwardly large, not firm exactly but not soft either, something that prickled at his skin and pulled at the hair was thrust between his knees.

What he saw when he looked down is red. A balloon. A glance down the line assured him that he wasn’t the only one in this particular predicament.  With the quirk of an eyebrow and an impressive flourish, Kevin produced a giant hatpin; his eyes took on a wicked glint and he was standing at Jughead’s side. 

“Time to get rid of those pesky ol’ cherries!” Kevin paused and faced the audience. “One! Last! Time!” They all shouted in unison.

The ‘pop’ of the balloon Jughead was prepared for, even if he did jump a little. The moans from Kevin as he went down the line and took care of the rest of the balloons were also anticipated. What came most unbidden was that Jughead seemed to actually be enjoying himself.

It was probably because the whole process wasn’t half as humiliating as he’d imagined it would be. Or maybe he was just realizing he was one minute closer to being back in his seat. One scene closer to excusing themselves from their friends. Just a few more hours before he and Betty were back in their quiet little apartment (quiet until he had her screaming that is).

The newly devirginized were released to the raucous crowd, Jughead walking back with much more fervor than he’d gone up with. Maybe it was the ritualistic nature of the whole thing. The cherry popping or the dressing up or the audience participation lines that so many of the patrons knew. He only knew that the energy was palpable, it flowed through the space like electricity, crackling and sparking all around him as he finally sat back down. 

Betty was watching him from the corner of her eye, he could see her jaw clenching from biting her cheek, presumably to keep from smiling. “Something amusing, Elizabeth?” 

Their eyes finally met the moment the opening number began. She shook her head. “Nope,” the pop of her ‘p’ struck him like lightning.

“That’s good to hear because we’re already at ten when we get home, poppet. Five for knowing what was going to happen here and not telling me, and five for how much you enjoyed it,” Jughead sat transfixed, watching the graceful curve of her neck stretch as she sucked in a ragged breath. “Now watch the show.”

Her pretty, pink tongue slipped between plump, pastel lips as she turned her attention back to the stage. Before long, she and Cheryl and Toni were tossing lines out with the best of them, helping their virgin friends with their prop bags and truly embracing the spirit of Rocky Horror.

“So! What did you think?” Betty asked as soon as their feet hit the pavement. Archie and Veronica were doing the Time Warp as they walked out the door with several other revelers, Cheryl and Toni, now wrapped in heavy robes, were singing their best Touch-A, Touch-A, Touch Me’s, all-in-all he’d have to say the night was a success.

He stopped, wrapping his arm around her midsection and pressing his large, flat palm against her stomach. “It was something.”

Leaning back into his embrace, she turned to their friends and asked them the same.

“Well,” Cheryl started, tossing her crimson locks back behind her shoulder. “It’s Rocky so, I can understand how the production value could look like it costs less than a Jan Terri music video—”

“Get Down Goblin is a classic!” Archie interjected from behind, dancing his way into the circle. 

Cheryl turned to Archie, crimson-tipped fingers menacingly pointed in his direction. 

“Be that as it may, Ginger Rogers, I was simply stating a fact.” 

They kept at their squabbling for a while, the four of them sniping back and forth with no real venom until they grew bored of it. Jughead was just happy that the attention was finally off of him and his girlfriend. His hand crept higher, pressing her tighter to him as it came to rest fully on her ribcage, the other played with the band of her slip, fingers fluttering against the soft skin there.

Leaning up, Betty’s mouth landed at the juncture of his neck and ear. “You ready?”

The heat of Betty’s breath juxtaposed with the cool October air left trails of goosebumps down his already exposed skin. “Yes,” his voice had taken on a gravel-like lilt as the hand at her hip squeezed tightly. 

“Then let’s split, my creature of the night. I wanna be dirty.”

“Hot patootie, bless my soul,” he loved how it felt when she laughed pressed up against him. “Now tell our friends goodbye so I can take you home and remind you how good girls behave.”

The words were barely out of her mouth before he had turned them down the sidewalk and toward the subway station. It wouldn’t be long now before they got a taste of just how much pelvic thrusts could drive you insane. However, if that was insanity, Jughead Jones wanted no part of being sane. 

[huntertales]

Part One: Head Games. (Taxi Driver S08E19)

Episode Summary: Sam, Dean and the reader respond to a call from a terrified Kevin who claims to hear Crowley’s voice in his head. Also with the good news that he’s discovered the second trial from the tablet—rescue an innocent soul from hell. The reader has to team up with a reaper named Ajay to complete the task, meanwhile the boys get a visit from the angel Naomi. But when things go awry, Dean must find Benny and ask him for a huge favor. Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader Word Count: 7,773.

Previous Part | Supernatural Rewrite Masterlist

Five months into your pregnancy and your third visit to the doctor's office still made you nervous about these kind of things. You sat in the waiting room trying to occupy your racing mind with an outdated parent magazine, reading up on some article that told you the benefits of feeding your child all organic diet. Right now your main concern wasn't about the dangers of too much processed foods high in fats and sugars. Your mind was occupied with the things Cas said to you about how your body was handling itself after you completed the first trial. It was damaged in ways that even he couldn’t heal. The angel who could heal people from illnesses and make bleeding wounds back to normal with a simple touch. You were broken beyond repair.

The first red flag you saw came a few days after completing the first trial. You and the boys took a case right after you accomplished the task, and while the boys would have been happier to see you resting up, you insisted that you were fine. You were a more tired than usual, but nothing a good night's sleep couldn't fix. At least that's what you thought. It was on the way back home to the bunker when you coughed up a few droplets of blood. Sure, it scared you at first. You brushed it off as a one time thing and didn't think about it. Until it happened again. And one more time that came when you had a coughing fit that you brushed off as a cold coming on. The bloody tissue Dean found in the trash can told a very different story.

It was hard to tell where the effects of the trials stopped and the symptoms of the pregnancy were making day to day life difficult. You were starting to feel even more changes to your body from things getting bigger and frequent trips to the bathroom. You heard of a thing called "pregnancy brain" that was hitting you harder than you expected. Not to mention the heartburn that made picking food to eat even harder with your fussy attitude. Some things you liked, and a simple whiff of another food you enjoyed last month made you sick to your stomach. When you were fixing yourself breakfast this morning you were excited to enjoy, it was quickly ruined at the sight of something red. You freaked yourself out when you realized you were having a bloody nose. Thankfully, the baby book you read told you it was a common symptom. 

While you had been trying to keep your worried thoughts to yourself, it seemed Dean picked up on the energy that was overwhelming you. He balanced a magazine on his knee and reached out his hand to intertwined his fingers with yours, giving the flesh a squeeze like he always did when you got nervous. Dean might have said he supported you with your decision, but he still wasn’t completely a hundred percent on board with you completing the trials in your conditions. It was his protective nature over you.He understood your motivations that drove you. Still, the things that Cas said made him scared as well. Not only for your health, but the baby's as well. You'd been complaining about some strange pain that came and went over the past week. Add it on to the list of symptoms he should worry about.

The both of you heard your name called by one of the nurses, breaking your concentration away from the same paragraph you'd been trying to read for the past few minutes. You and Dean made your way into the exam room to complete the same routine you were used to by now; check your blood pressure measure your bump and weight yourself to see how many pounds you put on this month. You handed over a simple of your urine as the usual routine of checking to make sure things were okay, this visit Dr. Miller needed a bit more from you to make sure the baby was in good health. While the both of you went over a list of symptoms you'd been having and what you were eating, you gave her your arm so she could draw a vile of blood from you.

"And what's this for again?" Dean asked what felt to be the millionth question during the visit. To say he was going to be an overbearing father was an understatement, he watched the nurse and Dr. Miller like a hawk while they worked together in doing the simplest of tasks they did dozens of times per day. You roll your eyes from how he watched everything unfold as the nurse sterilized your skin for the needle. 

"We check the urine and blood for any possible genetic disorders and if there's a chance Y/N developing preeclampsia. We want to make sure Mommy and baby are still healthy." Dr. Miller explained to the expecting father. "Next visit you'll be doing the dreaded glucose test. That's to check to make sure you're not at risk for diabetes."

You winced slightly at the prickling pain you felt when the needle was inserted into your skin, the nurse mumbled a sorry before continuing on filling the vile with some of your blood. Dr. Miller warned about how you might feel a bit more dizzier than normal. When that was done and your fluids were taken off for testing, now it was time to check the status of the baby. You had an ultrasound done a few times before to make sure everything was well with the progress and how the heartbeat was going with the baby. Dr. Miller wanted to do another one to make sure the baby was forming at a proper rate. Every time you got to see the grainy outline of the baby and hear their heartbeat, you felt the same kind of excitement. Like you were learning all over again.

Everything seemed to be going well from what the doctor told you; the baby was growing at a healthy rate, getting bigger with each passing week. You told her about the strange feelings and pain you were having over the past week and a half since getting into the fifth month. Dr. Miller said that it was a good sign. It was either trapped gas...or you were feeling the first movements of the baby, quickening as it was better known. The baby wasn’t strong enough yet to kick just yet, but they were able to do small things like yawn and suck their little thumbs. Which was the reason why you were having all those strange feelings. 

"Now, since you're far enough along and the baby seems to be cooperating with me today, I've got the news every parent bugs me. 'When can I find out the gender of the baby'?" Dr. Miller proposed a question you honestly hadn't even wondered about since you found out. You felt a little bit taken off guard with the possibility of knowing. "What do you say?"

"Oh. That honestly didn't really cross our minds." You admitted, feeling a little overwhelmed at the step in the pregnancy you hadn't thought too much about. You were so wrapped up in the trials you forgot you were getting closer at figuring the gender of the baby. If you were carrying a little boy or girl. A part of you want it kept a secret. "I mean, I don't know..."

You looked over at Dean when you realized you might be able to find out the gender of the baby today. Learning about this was much his choice as it was yours. You weren't going to pressure him into siding with your decision. Dean felt a little bit thrown on the spot from the pressure he suddenly felt. It felt a little cliche to say that he didn't care. Long as the baby remained okay though all of this, he was perfectly content with not knowing until the doctor announced it to the both of you after she delivered a healthy baby. He wasn't the father who was secretly praying for a little boy. And having a daughter wasn't going to change anything either. He was going to love and protect them the way he never was.

Dean shrugged his shoulders, giving you his honest answer. "What do you think, sweetheart?"

"I..." You let out a sigh from what your gut was telling you to do, despite how most would jump at the opportunity to know what they were carrying. "I don't want to know. Whatever they turn out to be, we'll be happy. Long as they’re healthy.”

“Interesting. Most parents want to know the gender of the baby so they can start going crazy on decorating the nursery.” Dr. Miller said. She grabbed a box of tissues and handed them over to you to clean off the sticky substance from your stomach after completing the ultrasound. “Not to mention the baby clothes they’re gonna grow out of in the blink of an eye.” 

"Oh, don't get me started on all of that. I've been looking u themes for the nursery. I'm stuck between so many different ideas and color pallets. Not to mention all the things that I've been saving." You said. You always find yourself unable to ramble on about the simplest of things when it came to getting ready for the baby. From the endless list of things you needed to get, to figuring out which room you were going to transform into the baby's room. Because for a moment you forgot about the trials and your health. It was a chance for you to focus on the future. Dean found the excitement that crossed your face whenever you talked about the baby adorable. He loved how your face lit up, how you were anticipating this new family member despite all of what you've been going through. "Of course before I know it they're gonna be here." 

“About twenty-two weeks if I'm correct. So we're almost halfway there. Either way, the baby’s looking good.” Dr. Miller reassured you once again the things you had been stressing yourself about lately. You felt yourself let out a sigh of relief. “I’ll call you about your tests results when they get back in. You shouldn't worry too much. And with that, I’ll see you three next month.”

You grabbed your second grainy ultrasound picture of the baby and went on your way with Dean to the front desk to make your next possible appointment with the doctor. You understood what Cas had said about you and how the trials were taking a toll on your body, the point of no return. But the consequences weren’t clicking in your head just yet. As you walked to the desk to make your next appointment, you looked down at the picture of your growing baby, a small smile spreading across your lips at the sight of them. If they were okay, then you saw no purpose of stopping. After all, the reason why you were doing the trials was for them. To give them a better future you never had. And to give the boys a taste of the normal life they always wanted.

+ + +

The name Dean Winchester struck fear in the hearts of many; he made a reputation for himself over the decade as someone who hunted down monsters and would stop at nothing to get what he wanted. Seek revenge on those who wronged him. He spent a year in purgatory fighting and slaughtering his way into freedom. You could see that it messed him up psychologically pretty badly, it took him a while to adjust himself back to civilized life. And while he wasn't the type of person who liked to show his emotions, preferring to put up a wall ...the man you saw right now was the complete opposite of those things.

You felt another involuntary giggle escape your mouth when you felt Dean’s breath tickled the sensitive part of your stomach while he talked to the baby. You sat upright on the bed with your shirt bunched up to your waist and Dean lying down so he was at level with your bump. You’d been feeling all sorts of strange feelings and pains the past week, while you were presuming it was just another symptom of the pregnancy, you learned that it was the very first movements of the baby. Flutters and quickening as Dr. Miller called it. You were starting to distinguish the different movements that possibly meant your baby was fussing around. And Dean was trying to somehow feel any sort of activity when you complained.

“Hey, kid. How you hanging in there?” Dean made it a habit of talking to your baby bump every chance he could get, despite telling him that it was going to be a while until they could hear him. He didn’t care. Dean took every opportunity to just let himself be near his child. It was strange at how different he turned into whenever the both of you talked about the baby. He got softer. And happy. It was the complete opposite of him that you saw on a daily basis. “You good? ‘Cause Mommy keeps telling me and your Uncle Sammy you’re not making her feel so happy.“ 

"Well, how would you feel if your body was growing and you had heartburn almost all the time? Not to mention the gas. And the stretch marks." You complained of the many symptoms you had been dealing with over the past few weeks while your index finger traced the faint line in the middle of your stomach. "Mommy just wants a break."

You knew that wasn't going to happen any time soon, and you really didn't mind the things your body was going through. You complained in the same breath that you were starting to get hungry, which lead you to the challenge of trying to figure out what you wanted to eat. Something that your stomach and overly sensitive nose could agree on. While you shot down every option Dean gave, you felt a slight pain suddenly appear. You placed your hand down to see what it was, Dean quickly placed his on top of yours to see if he could feel anything. You rolled your eyes when he shifted his head upwards. You were starting to grow annoyed, and things only got worse when you saw the bedroom door swing open.

“Hey…what are you guys doing?” Sam walked into the sight of his brother lying with his head on your stomach, ear pressed against it as if he was trying to listen to something. You told him about how you were starting to feel possible movements from the baby and Dean was attempting to experience it for himself. “Okay, well, that's great and all. But we gotta go. Kevin just called me. He needs to see us. It sounded pretty serious."

"Did he finally translate the second trial?" You asked, hoping for any kind of progress when it came to closing the gates of hell. 

"I don't know." Sam said. "He wouldn't tell me." 

"It better be freaking important." You grumbled in annoyance from having to leave the bunker and check up on the kid. What was so important he couldn't tell you over the phone was beyond you. Right as you were about to push Dean off of you and get ready for the overnight trip, you felt yourself stop when you figured out the pain in your stomach. "Yeah...now, that was gas."

Dean already figured out what it was before you announced it, making him sit up in bed and get started on packing a bag. You smiled to yourself and pulled down your shirt, knowing there was some things you couldn't control. People say pregnancy is a beautiful thing. But nobody tells you about the downsides of creating a new human life. Four months to go until you got control of your body back. And this little bundle of joy would be in your arms.

+ + + 

The next morning you and the boys arrived at Garth's houseboat you had been to a few times before for the occasional welfare check up and when Kevin made progress on the tablet. You were hoping that was the reason why he called you here. But you weren't so sure. Kevin didn't look so good the last time you saw him. Sam said he sounded frantic and needed all of you. You let out a sigh and crossed your arms over your chest when Dean called out the prophet's name, waiting a second to hear any sort of movement to detect the kid was still alive. When he didn't answer, Dean slapped his palm against the rusting metal door to announce your arrival. All of you waited for Kevin to answer, but the boat remained silent.

Dean tried one more time to get the kid’s attention and lucky for you, the heavy metal door swung open a few seconds later to reveal Kevin. While you were happy to see that he was still alive, his mental state wasn’t doing as well from the looks of him. You winced slightly at the sight of Kevin looking like he hadn’t slept well in days. Dark circles underneath his eyes and an unshaven face, not to mention the iron skillet he had in his hand like a weapon. Before any of you could come inside, Kevin peeked his head out to check and make sure it was just the three of you before allowing you to step into his home away from home. 

“Geez.” Dean muttered underneath his breath after taking a good look at the kid. You stepped inside the boat after him, watching where you were going before you could trip. “What’s going on? What’s with the S.O.S.?”

“It’s him.” Kevin said. 

“It’s who?” Sam asked, wondering who the kid was talking about. 

"Crowley." Kevin said. The mention of the king of hell threw you through a loop, wondering what he had to do with anything. Kevin and Crowley hadn't seen one another in months, ever since you rescued him from the demon's clutches after he attempted to make Kevin read the tablet. But it seemed the prophet believed otherwise. "He's in my head."

"He's...in your head." You repeated after him, sounding not all that convinced what the prophet was saying was all that true.

“Do you know what that means?” Kevin questioned all of you when you weren’t taking the situation serious as he was. 

"Yeah, it means we need to up your anxiety meds. Kevin, you're dreaming.” Dean tried to somehow reassure the prophet all of his worries were all side effects from the months spent locked up in here without anything else to do but translate a tablet. Kevin knew the king of hell would do anything to get his hands on, which was probably why the kid was going crazy. “Look, if Crowley knew where you were, he'd do a hell of a lot more than mess with your head."

Sam looked around the place to see if there was any sign of the hunter who was supposed to be checking up on him frequently. Isolation and little human contact could mess with anyone’s mind. It seemed that Kevin had been alone for a while. "All right, where's Garth?"

"On a case or—or the dentist. I don't know." Kevin said. "I haven't heard from him."

“Okay, well, what did you want to tell us that you couldn’t say on the phone?” Dean asked. He found himself momentarily distracted by the iron skillet that Kevin was still holding, who was on edge already. Probably ready to attack anything that moved a little too fast. Since all of you were here, Dean figured the kid wouldn’t need it anymore. "Would you put the frying pan down, please?"

Kevin didn’t realize he was still holding it until the older Winchester mentioned it. He put it down on the stove he was standing next to you before getting to the reason why he wanted you here in person. "I translated the second trial from the tablet."

"You...crazy prophet, you. Nice work!" Dean complimented the prophet at hearing the news you were hoping for. You felt your lips stretch into a smile at the progress he made. 

"And if Crowley's in my head, he knows.” Kevin nearly shouted from the paranoia overcoming him once again. You rolled your eyes in annoyance from how he was getting himself worked up.

"Relax, kid. He's not in your head. And if he is, how is he gonna get you? This place is warded against demons. You're safe. I promise you. Besides, I know a little something about dicks trying to mess with your head. It's all cheap tricks.” You tried to reassure him that he was under no real danger. “Now, we know you’re under distress, but you gotta stay with us. All right? Can you tell me what the second trial is?”

"An innocent soul has to be rescued from hell and delivered unto heaven." Kevin told you the next step, which sounded like gibberish to you at first. You blinked and made a slightly confused expression, trying to figure out if what you just heard was exactly as you thought it was going to be. "'Unto.' That's how God talks."

"Rescue a soul from hell? Like actually...go to hell? Great. Like two other times wasn't good enough. Let's go for a third time. Bet it's real nice this time of year." You felt yourself starting to slightly panic at the next obstacle you were going to have to face. Not to mention, the real kicker that left you scratching your brain as to what God meant by his riddle. "How do you get a soul unto heaven? I mean, how do you even get a soul out of hell?"

"We're gonna need an expert." Dean said.

+ + + 

Where does someone go when you need intel on the ins and outs of hell? Go straight to the source. It had been a very long time since you visited a crossroad, but you remembered everything you needed to summon a demon. Sam was the one who buried the tin box and covered it up with dirt. You weren't sure if this was going to work at all if they knew who was ringing the bell to get their attention. You were pretty sure Crowley blacklisted yours and the Winchesters' names from doing business with his demons. Good thing you weren't here to sell your soul. And there was dumb enough of a schmuck to at least greet the three of you.

“Y/N and the Winchesters.” You turned around at the sound of someone's voice from behind you, making you turn around to see someone took the bait. It was a crossroads demon from the looks of it when he blinked, showing off his red eyes you saw a few times before. Like you were the least bit intimidated by him. 

“What happened to all the hot chicks?” Dean asked. 

The demon scoffed, not finding Dean's joke the least bit funny. "I'm out of here."

You felt your lips stretch into a smirk when the demon attempted to do his famous vanishing act before he was pulled into one of your plans that would most likely end up with him dead. However, thanks to the devil’s trap Sam spray painted across the street, the demon wasn’t going anywhere. “What’s the rush? The party’s just getting started.”

You and the boys changed the scenery when you got what you needed, dragging the demon into an abandoned warehouse and underneath another devil's trap to keep him in place. You handcuffed him to a chair to make sure he wouldn't do anything stupid by throwing punches to defend himself. You asked him about getting into hell, the demon thought it would be funny to respond to you in a colorful way. You responded back with your own witty way by throwing holy water in his face. He could scream and groan in pain all he wanted, there was no one to rescue him. The four of you were far away from civilization to have a private conversation. 

Holy water felt like acid to his kind. When you were still a half demon and getting worse towards the end, you felt the effects and how badly it burned against your skin. Luckily it didn't hurt the poor soul in the body the demon was in. Chances were the person along for the ride was long gone. Which meant if he kept mouthing off and giving you the answers you didn’t want to hear, you weren’t scared to give him a few scars with the knife that killed his kind. 

“I ain’t got nothing.”

“Hmm. I think you’re lying.” 

The demon thought the best response to your accusation was "bite me" in a bitter sounding tone. You shook your head in disapproval, as if telling him that was the wrong answer. You looked up at Dean, who stood behind him with his own flask of holy water ready for any cue to continue on with the punishment if the demon didn’t cooperate. 

“Well, then how about another owie?” Dean suggested.

The oldest Winchester poured a small amount over the demon's head, making him groan in pain from the continuation of the punishment as his skin burned from the effects of the holy water. No amount of it was going to make him break. "You know,” Sam tried to sweet talk the demon into talking if he wanted the torture to stop. “wouldn't it be a lot easier just to tell us how to enter hell uninvited?"

“It’s a secret.” The demon told you.

“We promise we won’t tell anyone.” You reassured him the secret would be kept close between all of you. When the demon remained silent for longer than you wanted, you let out a sigh and started to twist off the top to the flask. "This is foreplay compared to what I really want to do—” 

"No! Wait. I can't. It's forbidden. They're gonna kill me." The demon tried to somehow pull the sympathy card on all of you, as if what you were doing to do to him was a walk in the park. You didn't fall for the trick, pouring another small amount of holy water over his head to make him talk. He knew your reputation and what you were capable of. "All right, look...for a price, y'all can be smuggled across hell's border."

“By who?” You asked. 

“Rogue reapers.” The demon said, giving you all the information you needed to hear. “They got secret ways, in and out. Not just hell—the veil, heaven.”

“Rogue reapers smuggling people?” Sam repeated what he’d just hear, all of it sounded absurd. It was the truth. They worked with people and souls to get them where they wanted to go. “So, what? They’re like hell coyotes?”

You didn't know why you were so surprised at hearing there was something like this going on underneath your noses. You learned something new everyday about the supernatural. "Now kill me. Come on, man." The demon pleaded for some kind of mercy. "Better death than Crowley."

"Hmm. Good point." You said. You had a feeling the king of hell had a few tricks up his sleeve to torture the poor demons under his control. However you weren't going to let him go just yet, you were just getting started. "But first you're gonna tell us...well, everything." 

+ + +

The demon confessed and told you all what you needed to know about how a person could sneak into hell without the king figuring out. There was a reaper not too far who did business under the table for some extra favors, he was in the city posing as an off duty cab driver. He was your ticket into going to hell without the red tape restricting you from completing the next trial. The demon said he was always parked at the same street corner, waiting for those who wanted a different kind of ride.

You stepped out of the Impala when Dean parked against the sidewalk after driving into town a little after night fell. You managed to avoid a puddle from the storm that was brewing outside, another crack of thunder could be heard over the passing cars and city life. You spotted a yellow taxi cab just across the way, a man enjoying the slow night by reading up on current affairs. You and the boys made your way across the street and approached the man, breaking away his concentration from the newspaper he was reading for a business opportunity. 

 "Ajay." You called out the reaper's name, heading forward to him. "We need to talk to you for a second."

“You know my name.” He said, seeming surprised at how you got knowledge of it. 

“And what you do.” You added even more things you knew about him. Before he could get into his cab and run for the hills, you showed him good faith when you told him the reason why you were here in the first place. “We want to do business.” 

"But you are mortal—flesh and blood." Ajay said. The look on his face seemed as if being human was going to make this even harder, like you were doing this just for kicks. The demon told you others had done it before. You proposed the idea of the three of you sneaking into hell with a visitor's pass What you were asking of made the reaper scratch his head in confusion as to why you even wanted to go there in the first place. "No one wants to get into hell." 

“But could a coyote like you do it?” Sam questioned the reaper for a straight answer.

“It’s possible.” Ajay admitted. However everything comes with a price with these sorts of things, moving humans to the underworld to retrieve a soul wasn't going to come cheap. “But I have special skills. I have overhead. It will be pricey.” 

“How pricey?” Dean asked, willing to pay any amount to get where he needed to go.

“You three are resourceful.” Ajay told you his payment. “One day, you will owe me a favor." 

“You say that like you know us.” Sam said. 

“Of course. You’re Y/N Y/L/N and the Winchesters brothers." Ajay said. You furrowed your brow slightly, not remembering in your many dances with deaths of meeting him before. But it seemed all of you had a common friend. "I am the reaper who took Bobby Singer to hell." 

"Bobby in hell?" Sam scoffed at hearing the information that sounded impossible. There was no way Bobby slipped through the cracks and landed himself a ticket downstairs. "We burned his bones. Once we did that, it was over. End of story." 

"Not necessarily." Ajay said. 

"No, no, no, 'cause, see, Bobby was on the good side of things, and good guys go to the penthouse." Dean said in a matter-of-fact tone of voice, his index finger pointed upwards to the night sky to prove his point. 

"Usually, mostly. Depends on who you know, what palms get greased." Ajay said. You would have never expected reapers would screw up their job to let a certain demon get his way. Which means you found out your soul that needed to be freed from hell. "If you're on the king of hell's no-fly list, no way you cruise the friendly skies."

"Crowley." Dean muttered the demon's name. The older Winchester saw it was just details at this point, the king of hell hated your guts already. What's another chance at screwing him over by sneaking yourselves in there and retrieving a soul that didn't belong to him. "Okay, let's do this. How much for three tickets down and three back?"

It would have been an ideal situation for the boys to join you on this unwanted trip to hell, but you knew the details of this meant only one person could have a round class ticket. You nodded your head for them to step off to the side for the three of you to have a private conversation. Dean gave you a confused look as to your sudden heistance. He could fight you on this all you wanted, but you were too far in to let go. There was no "We" in closing the gates of hell. The sooner they learn that, the sooner you could spring Bobby free and bring him where he deserved.

“What the hell are you thinking?” You whispered to him. 

“You heard the guy—Bobby’s in hell.” Dean told you. “We’re gonna spring him.” 

“We’ve gone over this, Dean.” You reminded him. “I have to do the trials solo.”   

“This is Bobby we’re talking about, Y/N. Now let’s face it—you have not exactly been up to full speed lately, okay? And you've got extra cargo you're carrying around. We can't risk anything going south." Dean said. You rolled your eyes in frustration at how he still doubted your skills of keeping yourself safe. "We got one shot at this. We can't miss." 

“I’m not gonna miss. I'll bring him back." You promised the boys for the safe return of the man all of you cared for deeply. You wanted the old man in heaven much as they wanted. To prove you were serious about this, you opened up your jacket to reveal the demon killing knife you carried in the waistband of your jeans. You've been to hell, you were prepared for whatever and whoever tried to come in your way from springing Bobby free. You walked forward to Ajay, booking your ticket to downstairs once more. "I'm in, just me." 

"Follow me." Ajay instructed.

"Wait." Dean stopped the reaper from taking a step and leading you to the path to hell before learning about the mechanics behind it. "How does this...work?"

"Not to fret. She'll be back in exactly twenty-four hours time." Ajay explained. "Return for her then."

You felt a little pressured at the timeframe you were given, but you didn't want to spend any more time than you had while in hell. You could see the resistance on the boys' faces at the journey you were going into alone. You reassured them that everything was going to be okay. You gave both of them a smile before you followed behind Ajay down an alley that looked sketchy enough as it was. Dean checked his watch and set a timer, counting down the hours until you were returned back safe and sound. Along with the soul of Bobby. 

You and Ajay continued to make your way through the alley and a metal fence door that lead you to a dead end. You looked around the walls to see that almost every inch of the place was covered in all sorts of graffiti. But you didn't have much time to examine before Ajay instructed you to do something that you weren't expecting to do. He told you to take his hand. You did as you were told, not without making a remark about how creepy all of this was. If you wanted to go to hell, this was how you did it. 

You weren't sure how a reaper snuck a human into hell; maybe there was a secret passage you were supposed to take. Perhaps chant a few words before you were at your destination. However that wasn't the case. You noticed the graffiti on the walls began to almost appear like it was liquify off the bricks, making you feel as if you were suddenly taking an acid trip. However you suddenly felt a blinding white light appear out of nowhere taking you off guard, bringing you and Ajay to the path of your destination. You didn't think it was going to be that easy to sneak yourself into hell, these kind of things never was.

Hell was a place you would never forget. Not even after all these years from being away from there. It was worse than your nightmares, and no amount of torture could even touch what you went through down there. You would remember if you were there. You were standing in the middle of what appeared to be a forest, too pleasant for it to be pit. You thought for a second Ajay made a wrong turn. Maybe you were in another part of the country. Looks could be deceiving to the human eye. You’d find out soon enough you weren’t on earth anymore. 

“Downstairs looks a lot different from last I remembered.” You said. “This can’t be hell.” 

“That’s because it isn’t.” Ajay said. “This is purgatory.” 

"What do you mean this is purgatory?" You questioned the reaper. You suddenly felt your heart drop into your stomach at the trouble you just landed yourself into. You remembered all the horror stories Dean told you about, what little he admitted about the time he spent here. Endless miles crawling with every flavor of monsters you hunted. You were beyond pissed off, and you made your dissatisfaction be known in your tone of voice. "This isn't what I paid for. I booked the hell tour."

“Whoa, whoa, Y/L/N, detach.” 

“The only thing I’m going to be detaching is your head from your neck.” 

"This is hell-adjacent. Been down this highway many times before. Follow the stream to where three trees meet as one. Where they meet, there are rocks. Between the rocks is a portal." Ajay explained the steps you needed to take in order to get to your destination. You felt he should have told you upfront, but you handle a little bit of walking. You asked him about the portal ad why it was so important. "A back door to hell. Trust me—it'll work.”

“Wait. So you’re not coming with me?” You asked him. 

"Don't be ridiculous. Smuggling a mortal across the border is risky enough. But gate-crashing a Y/L/N into hell seriously blows." Ajay chuckled at what you thought he was going to do for you. You gave him a dirty look at how he was leaving you high and dry, just to save the skin off his own back. "No. I'll be back in twenty-four hours, precisely. Be here."

You forced yourself to inhale a deep breath from the task you were about to do all on your own. Nobody to help you if you got ambushed by a group of monsters, no one to guide you through this endless miles of forest. You pulled out the demon knife from the waistband of your jeans, your fingers wrapped around the wooden handle to get a good grip on it. There was no point of waiting around, you began on your journey to find this portal before time ran out.

“It’s a good thing you bought that.” Ajay said. “It is not an easy place.” 

You survived four months that felt to be forty years in hell. You spent what felt like an eternity in the cage with Lucifer and Michael. You went up against every kind of monster crawling around here, chances were all of them were here...running around, lost. Trying to survive. Most of all, you killed a hellhound with your bare hands. Spending a little time tracking through purgatory seemed like it was going to be a challenge you were capable of going up against. At least, that's what you told yourself when you turned around to see Ajay was gone. 

You swallowed and looked around at the endless sight of trees all around you. It wasn't hard to feel the dread and confusion coming over you, not sure where the right place to go was. A fear that someone might be watching you from the shadows, waiting for the perfect opportunity to kill you before you could kill them. Dean spent one year in this place and somehow survived. You could handle how many hours you needed to walk in order to find this portal and go to hell. Find Bobby and get the both of you the hell out of here. All under twenty-four hours. Yeah, this wasn’t going to be a problem. 

 + + +

The boys knew there wasn't much else they could do for the next twenty-something hours while you were completing the second trial on your own. All they could do was check up on Kevin and keep an eye on him before he could push himself into a mental breakdown. Dean wanted to be with you every step of the way, Sam's mind wandered to everything that could go wrong. The thought of you being in hell while five months pregnant and physically weaker because of the first trial made both of them nervous about the chances at things might go south. But you always defied expectations. You were going to be okay. 

"You, Kev, it's us!" Dean called out to the prophet who was around here somewhere when the boys arrived back at the boathouse with some early lunch they picked up on the way back. The both of them headed deeper inside to see that it was more quiet than usual. "Kevin!"

Sam looked around the place to see if he could find any trace of where the kid ended up. He thought Kevin might have taken a nap to help rest his troubled head while they were gone or took some time to shower. However he was in none of those spots when the door to a small storage room opened up, revealing Kevin. "I believe the closet would be the safest."

“Safe from what?” Sam slowly asked the kid. 

“Crowley. He’s in my head, guys. And if he’s in my head, he knows where I am!” Kevin shouted. Sam let out a quiet sigh from the paranoia about the king of hell tracking him down, Dean rolled his eyes and set the still warm food down on the table. “You know, we—we should move out. We’ll find another place.” 

"He's not in your head. It's okay, Kev. You need to relax." Sam tried to reassure the kid he was still safe on the houseboat. "When's the last time you ate? Have a burger or something. You'll feel better if you did." 

"Come on, don't lose it on us now, dude." Dean said. He grabbed a perfectly warm burger from the paper bag and handed it out for Kevin to grab it from his hand, the entire situation making him feel like he was trying to lure out a timid animal from hiding. It seemed to work, Kevin slowly stepped out of the closet and made his way forward. "There you go. That's it. Enjoy the burger while you still can. Y/N hates the smell of meat. She's been making us go vegetarian the past few months. Talk about torture." 

Kevin managed to give himself the courage to grab the food from the table, his stomach involentarly growling when he realized it had been a while since he had something to eat.  "Just tell me when this all ends, 'cause that's the only thing I want to hear." 

Sam understood the feeling of wanting to get out of this world and go back to the cushioned lifestyle he was used to. He kept himself quiet, focusing on his food, knowing deep down it was all just a dream. "No, like I told you before, this isn't going to end." Dean was the one who broke the news to the poor kid who wanted to hear different. "Look, man, other guys, they got it easy, you know? It's all backyard barbeques and...bowling teams, but the three of us? We got to carry a little extra weight." 

 Kevin shook his head and nibbled on his food, “I can’t take it.” 

The kid was being pushed to his breaking point of how much more he could handle this lifestyle before it pushed him over the edge. Kevin's appearance was enough to show the brothers he wasn't doing well. From translating the tablet to thinking the king of hell was messing with his head, all Kevin wanted to do was go back to his old life. He wanted his mom, he wanted to be at college studying and cramming like other people his age. He was sick and tired of being trapped on this houseboat translating the word of God with no reward for his hard work.

"Yes, you can. Hey, look at me." Dean said, getting Kevin's attention so he could have a pep talk he so desperately needed at this time. And, maybe, Dean was talking to himself as well. "Now, this whole thing sucks. I know. But you suck it up and push through because that's what we do. And when you get on board with that, the ride is a lot smoother. Now...french fry?”

Kevin grabbed the paper cup tray with the fries he was offered along with the drink, taking it all for himself. Along with something that Dean had been looking forward to on the way back here.  "I'm gonna be in my room. Let me know when there's a good day." 

If there was something Dean loved anything more in this world other than a good burger was a slice of pie. He picked up some from the fast food joint him and Sam stopped at for lunch. He'd been thinking about it for a while, considering every time he bought himself a slice you went and ate it on him, claiming the baby was making you crave it. Since you were gone and you hated the smell of any kind of meat, he decided to treat himself to both of his favorites. Only Kevin took the one thing he was really looking forward to.   

"That's my pie." Dean muttered to himself, hearing the slam shut behind Kevin.  

He had to admit he felt a little disappointed at his treat being taken away from him. But if the kid ate something and got out of this funk, Dean guessed it was worth it. He sank his teeth into the burger and continued on eating, wondering how you were doing. He looked down at his watch to see that four hours had already passed since all of you parted ways. Only twenty more to go before you were back home safe.

[Next Part]

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[girl4music]

Hercules VS Xena: Striking differences

If you want the defining difference between Xena and Hercules… it’s actually not so much to do with feminism or gender representation. Those are the finer details, sure. But from a first-look standpoint, it’s that Xena is made for audiences that can understand and relate to its depth in production and writing of the emotional and mental kind, and Hercules is made for audiences who enjoy the writing and production of the physical kind. The action and the excitement. Of course, you get both with both shows, but you can tell one is more geared to one side than the other side. And I think the shows grew with the audience rather than the other way around. The stories got deeper and darker and much more complicated the more the audience tuned in and asked for what they wanted to see and hear of more. Therefore, I have to bring up the striking differences between both shows. If you want a show with good characters that only do good, watch Hercules. If you want a show with good characters that fluctuate, watch Xena. Redemption is a huge part of ‘Xena: Warrior Princess’. There are many episodes that deal with the themes of redemption and reconciliation that are very powerful. The main character, Xena, never quite is of one side or the other side. She’s both and she comes to reconcile with both. As does those that love her and believe in her. She comes to be in balance with light and with dark, with good and with evil, with peace and with war. And it’s not just her that does either. Many of the characters in Xena deal with these themes in very different ways. From the few episodes I’ve bothered to watch, ‘Hercules: The Legendary Journeys’ doesn’t have that. It’s because the characters are innately good that there’s no depth, no complication, and no moral standing of which to learn from. I’m not saying it’s not an entertaining show. I mean, it’s action-packed, there’s lots of fight scenes and there are interesting characters that do deal with important issues. However, it doesn’t seem convincing because it lacks the negative sides of those issues. Avoids telling the darker stories and therefore, you can’t take it seriously enough. I’m not being hater; I’m just being honest. In my personal opinion, the better show is Xena because it’s just got so much more to it. It’s a lot more mature and intelligent. It’s catered to an older audience than Hercules is. Requiring a broader and expanded consciousness so that the serious and important matters can be understood. Children can watch it, but it is more for the adults I’d say, or at least young adults. However, many of its fans did watch it as a child. Shaping their world view and philosophy as they grew into an adult, and eventually coming to understand what they were watching. I’m no different to that. That is very much my background with the show as well. As I watch it as an adult, I acknowledge, consider and understand its themes and lessons so much so more than I ever did as a child. That’s why I’m saying Xena is meant for an older audience and Hercules is meant for a younger audience.

I remember reading this interview segment in a Tumblr post awhile back where Kevin Sorbo talked about Xena and what he believed was wrong with it. Two themes were mentioned, seemingly “issues” to him. He said that the violence and the lesbianism were the aspects of the show that were “issues”. I think the word he was really looking for is “controversial”. Xena is a more complex and sophisticated show and it used violence to make the point clear that goodness, righteousness and peace is not black and white. It’s very difficult to not result to violence in dire situations. They were not encouraging violence. They were using it to teach a lesson, as well as explaining that just because you do result to violence in certain circumstances, you’re not inherently a violent person. You just did what you believed you should do in the moment and that that’s okay. The violence and the darker themes to the show made those lessons all the more powerful and inspiring. As for the lesbianism… I can see why that would have been an actual “issue”. Consider that at that time, even multi-cultural and interracial heterosexual couplings was still very new to mainstream TV. They were pushing boundaries with that alone, never mind homosexual couplings. I think the producers and writers did the best they could with it. Overall, Sorbo’s views are very one-sided and he wasn’t thinking about the bigger picture. Which is that you can’t have the positive themes without the negative themes if you are to understand the importance of them. That’s what he didn’t realize and failed to mention in that interview. The point to this post is not to compare or judge or criticize. It’s to explain to people that if they want to understand the way life works and learn how to handle it, they’re better off watching the more mature, intelligent and darker show than the one that avoids those themes altogether. Furthermore, all the really interesting characters in ‘Xena: Warrior Princess’ are the ones that are “searching”. This showcases that it’s human conditions and conflicts that make for really great TV entertainment. People love characters they can relate to for their flaws and mistakes rather than their heroism. It’s definitely a huge factor as to why Xena stands the test of time and became more successful and popular than its predecessor, Hercules. That within this action/fantasy show, there were these themes and lessons that make it far more than just “the hero that saves the innocent”. That there is strong and substantial material that goes far deeper than the surface. So much so that you actually start to enjoy the show for its comedy and lighter episodes; such as ‘A Day In The Life’ and ‘Been There, Done That’. You begin to crave them when you realize just how dramatic and intense this show can be sometimes. It really adds to its vibe. The camp is something both Xena and Hercules is well known for. The exaggeration, the subtext, the homoerotic nature of the characters etc… However, I personally think for Xena, it propelled the show, but with Hercules, it degraded it. And that’s mainly because in Hercules, there wasn’t enough balance. The scales tipped more towards the silly and the satirical. Because of this, the drama and the tenser sides to the show didn’t feel honest or serious. Whereas in Xena, it did because it was not afraid to go in-depth with the darker side to the show. It made the audience question the characters and the storylines.

Okay, so getting on to the finer details of having gender representation, I’d like to explain another reason why I believe Xena was more popular and successful than Hercules was. They always tried to make Hercules “the man”. Had to consistently point out his masculinity and physical strength and ability to catch the female eye. They wrote the character as if he had to be a certain way to be the good person or the right person. Whereas with Xena, there wasn’t any of that. Xena was a woman who had all those so-called “masculine” traits while still being female. A female that could do anything a male could do… or in some cases… better than a male could do them. She had the physical strength of ten men combined. She wasn’t written to look or be like “the man” in particular. But because the traits and skills she had were more known for a man to be capable of than a woman in those times… she was stereotyped as a more of a masculine character than a feminine one. At least to me it seemed she was viewed that way. In my personal opinion (I’m not saying they were trying to make it look this way), Xena was the one that carried more feminine energy and Gabrielle was the one that carried more masculine energy. But that’s just my personal perspective. I have my reasons to think and believe that and to interpret those characters’ energies like that.

Before you get me wrong, I’m not saying that it’s just about female representation. It’s not just about showing these fluid traits in females. It’s not all about feminism! I’ll point out that in an episode of Xena, there is a female character that hated men. That blamed men for all their problems. That was always making them at fault for everything… just because they were men. But the show producers/writers gave the very clear message that it’s not always men at all. That sometimes a woman can be just as cruel and selfish and hard. That it could go both ways and women can abuse and misuse men just as much as men can abuse and misuse women. That there’s no “more or less than” between them. It depended on the situation that the characters were in than on the individual character’s gender or type. That very much stood out for me when watching Xena. From what I’ve seen of Hercules, (which isn’t very much, I’ll admit) it seemed to be that the women were always depicted as the dainty, soft and sweet little things that were always falling all over the men and didn’t have a bad bone in their body. And that the men were always the strong, capable, physical and abusive ones. Again, don’t get me wrong! I’m very aware it can be like that. But it’s not always like that. It’s just a stereotype. A stereotype is where if you see a certain characteristic or behaviour in one or two people, you immediately assume or interpret everyone to be in that same mentally constructed category that just doesn’t exist. It’s just not a realistic picture to paint of either gender or type of person because humans are very fluid in their energies. Xena showed the times when men could be the soft, compassionate and kind type of person. It also showed when women could be the cruel, selfish and hard type of person. There was no “she’s masculine” or “he’s feminine”. They weren’t trying to give the depiction that you’re either one or the other and it has to be that way. They were saying that it was both. That females have what is considered “masculine” traits and males have what is considered “feminine” traits and none of it was wrong or inappropriate. It made the statement that whether male or female… they were still the same species. They were still human. In fact, they didn’t only show it with humans. They showed it with the Olympian gods too. With immortals. Not necessarily considered human but shown in the human image. From my perspective, at least, I would say that’s a very strong and substantial reason to watch the show; Xena, over the show; Hercules, or to judge on what show was better produced/written, even if it was the same people that created and worked on both shows. Because it seems to me that one was definitely much more thought out than the other in producing and writing. Xena has definitely shown me what it is that I look for in TV shows/movies/books/games or other forms of entertainment and art. Good producing/writing and dynamic characters that are not stereotyped. That do not belong to any particular category or labelled in any solid or permanent way. Characters that are fluid and interchangeable and versatile. Characters like Xena and Gabrielle and Callisto, that can make you see the individual person in both positive and negative ways, enough to realize that they are completely human and real. Enough to be relatable and so you can resonate with their mindsets. I don’t understand how or why there is such striking differences between these shows. Because given the fact Kevin Sorbo didn’t play Hercules and the show was at the same level of producing/writing as Xena, I probably would have loved to watch it just as much, if not more. There were some potentially great characters (both male and female) from Hercules that weren’t introduced in Xena that could have done with a better or longer arc, so you could get to know them more and could see that they weren’t produced/written in a stereotypical way. Maybe I’m wrong. Perhaps both shows have dynamic characters and give the same messages and I just haven’t done enough research or watched enough of the other show to judge accurately. But this is only my personal perspective and opinion on both shows regardless. I’m not saying it is fact because both shows are left to interpretation anyway. Take out of it what you will. I think I’ve made a satisfactory analysis to draw from to create your own. I’d very much like to read or hear yours.

"Hercules is the hero we hope is out there. Xena is the hero we hope is in all of us." - Liz Friedman, executive producer for 'Xena: Warrior Princess'.

[burntcopper]

(text below as it’s a premium article, more pictures and such at the link)

Mark Monahan, dance critic

7 MAY 2019 • 7:00AM

It is one of those volatile spring days where the weather can’t make up its mind, and I am in the studios at Three Mills Island, deep in the East End of London, watching rehearsals for Matthew Bourne’s brand-new production of Romeo and Juliet. To judge by the section of Prokofiev’s ever-astonishing score firing from the speakers, we are in the midst of the final, calamitous scene of Act II.

Tybalt staggers on, paralytically drunk. So far, so familiar to anyone who’s seen certain Tybalts in the Royal Ballet’s production – except that he is also clutching a revolver, which he brandishes at the terrified crowd of young onlookers. He then takes Mercutio and Balthasar hostage, forcing them, at gunpoint, to snog each other. As Bourne slyly tells me a little later, “I should say, it doesn’t follow the plot exactly – it is a Romeo and Juliet-type story We have got a couple of surprises up our sleeve…”

How could Bourne possibly not? After all, he is the dance-theatre supremo who, with his company Adventures in Motion Pictures (recast as New Adventures in 2002), has repeatedly put bold new spins on old works, often opening them up to entirely new audiences.

He is most famous for having redefined ballet at a stroke in 1995 by making all the waterfowl in his Swan Lake brazenly bare-chested men. But he also spiced up Carmen with a dash of The Postman Always Rings Twice and set the result in a steamy garage (The Car Man, 2000); transformed an obscure Sixties film, The Servant, into perhaps the other sexiest dance show so far this millennium (Play Without Words, 2002); and risked taking two adored, emphatically cinematic films – Edward Scissorhands and The Red Shoes – and putting them on stage (in 2005 and 2016). It was also Bourne who set Cinderella in Blitz-ravaged London (1997), thoroughly re-cracked The Nutcracker (1992) and sharpened up The Sleeping Beauty with vampires (2012). The fact that this master choreographer-producer and storyteller – already riding high with his superb current revival of Swan Lake – is now tackling the most stirring balletic tale of all makes this the single most eagerly awaited dance show of 2019.  

“I think the key to the success of this company,” he tells me, “is that it brings in people who feel this is not something they’d normally understand, something they’re a bit scared of.”

So, besides the snippet of Act II that I catch, what sort of Romeo and Juliet can we expect when it launches in Leicester next week? The various New Adventures members I chat to prior to Bourne himself maintain an omertà-like silence about it, saying only that it’s set in an unspecified time in the near future, and reminding me that the show’s tag-line is “Imagine a time when love is forbidden …”.

Thankfully, the New Adventures grand vizier himself – remarkably affable and unstuffy in person – is a little more forthcoming. Designed (as usual with this company) by the terrific Lez Brotherston, the show, Bourne says, will be roughly two hours long, in three acts, but with just one interval, with the score rearranged (by Terry Davies) for a 15-strong live band. He also says that his scenario was “very vaguely” inspired by Anna Hope’s 2016 novel The Ballroom. Beyond that, however, Bourne is careful to tantalise rather than reveal, and this spirit of mystery extends to the show itself.

“We haven’t absolutely hit on a definite ‘this is it’ thing,” he says, “We think all these young people are in this institute. I want the audience to ask, ‘Why are they there? Is this to do with mental health? Is this a borstal? Is this a prison, a school? What is it? What’s going on? They’re obviously receiving some sort of medication. What it comes down to is that any excess of feeling is frowned upon and has to be, um…”

Quelled?

“Yes, quelled – good word! So, emotions are kept to a minimum, and they’re all young people who’ve been dumped there, because they’re trouble.”

Tybalt, Bourne explains, is now a corrupt guard. And, although there appears to be no Capulet family in this version, “we still get one set of parents, the Montagues, who bring Romeo there. We see him arrive, and they’re a bit like Kevin Spacey and Robin Wright in House of Cards, a political couple probably, and Romeo’s a bit of an embarrassment. He’s a bit like [the US President’s youngest child] Barron Trump, but a little bit older. He seems to have been locked away somewhere, bless him, poor boy.”

Bourne also hints that he, true to form, will not be holding back on the sensual side of things.

“I felt I could capture something that’s not in the ballet if we set it in a different time, something that was a bit more raw, a bit more like young people really are. I mean, when they get together, they go for it. They’re not thrilled by a kiss on the cheek – if they’re kissing, they’re kissing for hours.”

The regularity with which the word “young” comes up as we talk nods to another remarkable aspect of this new production. It marks the largest confluence to date of the two main strands of Bourne’s company: its fully professional performing side, and the charitable arm that aims to inspire young people to try their hand at dance. In practice, this means that a huge and heartening number of young people are involved in every aspect of the production which features two separate casts, each with their own set of star-crossed lovers.

It’s remarkable enough that two of the Juliets – Bryony Wood and Bryony Harrison – are just 19 and 21 respectively, and that one of the Romeos (Harrison Dowzell) is also 19. But many of the performers will be younger still.

A year or so ago, the company did a nationwide call-out for what they call the “local casts”. It whittled the 1,000-odd trainee dancers who applied down to 97, all aged 16-19, who will now be performing with the company. Throughout the 13-venue tour, New Adventures will be divided in half, with each half leapfrogging the other across the country. So, as one (dubbed the Capulets) starts performing in one town, the other (the Montagues) will begin a week’s pre-show rehearsal in the next. And waiting to join the company in every city, with the adrenalin doubtless pumping ferociously, will be six of those already-prepped youngsters. (The exception is the Leicester sextet, already involved in the London rehearsals.)

This, I suggest to the young-cast rehearsal director Paul Smethurst, looks like a project that could benefit British dance full-stop. “We have definitely found the next generation of star dancers,” he says. “And, we’ve found so many of them.”

What’s more, this youth drive extends to every aspect of the production. For example, young associate choreographer Arielle Smith is just 22. When she insists to me that Bourne often tells her, “Do what you want to do!”, and Smethurst, that “Arielle has a real voice and a real vision that she’s bringing to the piece”, I do privately wonder just how much trust the 59-year-old, Tony- and Olivier-garlanded Sir Matthew Bourne, OBE can really be putting in one so young. Then, minutes later – with Bourne coaching the principals across the corridor – there she is, working with dozens of corps members, and “holding” the room with complete command.

Now, these are, of course, gender-fluid times, especially in the eyes of the young. Besides which, Hackney-born Bourne (who these days lives in Islington with his partner, fellow choreographer Arthur Pita) has often toyed around with sexuality in his productions. Was he, I wonder, tempted to make his Romeo and Juliet a gay romance?

“Well,” he says, “I suppose years ago I may have gone with that. But, following on from Lord of the Flies [revived in 2014 with a largely teenage cast], which was all men, I didn’t feel this was the right time to go all male. So I thought, no, this is a chance to work with young people of both sexes.”

That said, Tybalt’s viciously enforced embrace does suggest that Bourne is up to plenty of gender-related mischief here.

“Oh, definitely, yes,” he confirms. “We wanted to have all life is here a little bit, especially with all the young people involved. I give them a bit of freedom with whatever sexuality they choose to be – how their character identified was important. For example, Mercutio’s got a boyfriend in this – that’s Balthasar. And there are a couple of girl characters who identify as gay, with one, Frenchy, who’s in love with Juliet.”

If anyone can get away with all this sort of thing, it is Bourne. His theatrical instincts have seldom let him down over the years (2008’s Dorian Gray the exception that proves the rule), and the brief section I see rehearsed – despite the absence of proper set, lighting, costumes and live music – is genuinely thrilling. What, I ask him, is the secret of his success? How has someone who didn’t even start dance training until he was 22 (at the Laban, in south-east London) made such a colossal mark on the dance world?

He credits his famous obsession with character – with giving every single person on stage a backstory and a purpose – with having collaborated on various non-New Adventures shows with “great directors” such as Trevor Nunn, John Caird, Sam Mendes and Richard Eyre. He also adds, “I think the key to the success is that I’m also quite reverential. I love the ballets, I love the scores, and I don’t want to mess with them too much. I want to honour the composers in a way that I feel is OK. And I want to tell a story to people.”

And want to get the audience involved?

“Yes,” he confirms. “And it just comes completely naturally to me. It’s not something I work at. I’ve never thought, ‘How do you get an audience on-side?’ It’s just completely the way I think about things, and I don’t see the point of it otherwise.”

Matthew Bourne’s Romeo + Juliet opens on May 13 at the Curve, Leicester, and tours the UK until October. Details and tickets: new-adventures.net

[setlist-ud-blog]

LGBT Artists

Written by: Maddie McVey

This year has been popularly declared “Twenty Gayteen,” and it’s clear to see why with so many great LGBT songs and albums being released. To celebrate, here’s a playlist of LGBT artists - many of whom are up and coming and deserve to be on your radar.

Hayley Kiyoko - He’ll Never Love You (HNLY)

We can’t make an LGBT playlist without including the girl being christened “Lesbian Jesus” by her fans! Hayley is on the path to becoming the first mainstream lesbian popstar in America - and she’s doing it one female-pronoun song lyric and wlw-themed music video at a time.

PVRIS - Same Soul

This incredible band is fronted by lesbian Lynn Gunn, who is always open to talk about her sexuality. She recently posed for Playboy to take a stand for all expressions of sexuality and to celebrate androgyny and different body types.

Kehlani - Honey

When this bisexual goddess dropped this next song on our playlist, girls swooned across the globe. Kehlani has only become more open about her sexuality as her career has gone on and often vocally supports other LGBT artists.

Kim Petras - Heart to Break

First gaining media attention for being one of the youngest people to undergo gender transition, years later Kim is back in the public eye for her vocal talent and super fun songs. The German singer is on course to make a splash in the scene and could possibly become the first mainstream trans popstar.

Years & Years - Sanctify

After literally “years and years” of waiting, this electro-pop band finally returned with the above song last month. Gay frontman Olly Alexander proudly puts his sexuality on display in the band’s music, writing songs prominently featuring male pronouns.

Halsey - Strangers

After her career skyrocketed in a matter of only a few years, Halsey was able to get a song featuring an honest portrayal of bisexuality on the mainstream radio with “Strange Love.” She also has another bisexual anthem in “Strangers,” which she made sure featured another bisexual girl, Lauren Jauregui, on accompanying vocals.

Alex Lahey - Awkward Exchange

This lesbian alt-rocker wrote a fantastic debut album full of songs that are relatable no matter your sexual orientation. Hailing from Australia, hopefully Alex can make just as big an impact promoting her catchy tunes in the States.

Angel Haze - Detox

It’s been years since this pansexual, gender-fluid rapper put out an official release, but her 2015 mixtape Back to the Woods is still just as powerful to listen to as it was when it came out. Keep your ears open for new music hopefully coming this year, sure to be just as bold and honest as her material in the past.

Now, Now - SGL

After years without any new music, the indie rock favorites returned as a duo with new songs a full album set to be released next month. One of these new tunes was “SGL,” which features lesbian frontwoman KC Dalager “starry-eyed” and longing for more out of her relationship.

Brockhampton - JUNKY

This boy band has broken boundaries in practically every category of what a “boy band” traditionally is - including what genre of music they create, how many members they have, and how they express sexuality in their lyrics (and even in their merch collections). Group leader Kevin Abstract has dropped several iconic, unapologetic verses about being gay in Brockhampton songs, and has helped create an LGBT atmosphere around the band.

[undead-park]

Application - Kenny McCormick

About the mun!

Name/nickname: Buffy or Sqwid

Age: 20

Discord: {Removed for privacy reasons}

Pronouns: They/She

Extra: Hm I’d probably either take up Thomas (Le Petit Tourette) or a goth kid as a second muse but not sure yet

About the muse! 

Name: Kenny McCormick

Gender: Fluid, usually leaning towards he/him

Age: 22

Sexuality: Bi

Faction: South Park {Leader}

Five or more headcanons:  -Kenny isn’t afraid of death at all. He’s ready to die for real whenever that time may come, and he’ll stand before death as many times as necessary in order to protect the people he cares about. However, in times tough as these, he’s willing to be more cautious in order to be alive for those who need him. But if the situation calls for it, he won’t hesitate to sacrifice himself. -Despite his vulgar and perverted exterior, Kenny’s much smarter than he lets on. He’s often quiet and introspective, good at reading people and observing situations. He is usually very aware of other’s emotions, it’s hard to hide what you’re feeling from him. -He’s taken on a very parental role since the apocalypse and does his best to take care of the kiddos who have had their families taken from them by the undead. -He has a surprisingly good singing voice. He’s had a lot of practice from singing Karen to sleep. -Kenny isn’t always happy, in fact, there’s a lot of pain and sadness in that blonde head of his, but he maintains a grin as much as he can. -Kenny will always be the shoulder to cry on if someone needs it. He know what it’s like to need someone like that. -Whenever anyone needs to fight, he’s the first to volunteer to go to the front lines with blunt weapons. However, he’s also very proficient with guns, he’s honestly pretty proud of his ability to snipe. 

Roleplay example: (At least two well written paragraphs) (From another zombie group lol) “Dinner!” Kenny calls out, and at the sound of the “d word,” the kitchen isn’t as empty as it was for long. The mismatched chairs around the old table fill up quickly, Karen filling in last, making sure everyone else was seated first. He couldn’t help but be proud of his sister, she had grown up to be such a good person and she demonstrated her goodness everyday since the outbreak happened. If only he could do more for her. Food was scarce nowadays, and it was especially hard to be able able to feed a large group of people. Today, much like everyday, it was a mix of canned food. Kenny fixed plates with a small portion from each can, passing them out everyone. As children do, they all complain. It was reasonable, eating the same gross food day after day wasn’t what you wanted. However, when you spent everyday hungry, you took what you could get. “You’re lucky you get to eat at all. Complain, and I’ll eat your share.” He gives the group around him a teasing smirk, reaching over with a fork to taunt it over the children’s plates. They cry out in protest, pulling their plates away from Kenny’s hand and quickly start to eat themselves. He huffs in amusement, turning his attention to his own plate. He always made sure the others had enough food, leaving only what he could scrape from the bottom of the cans himself. However, that was enough for him. He could get by just fine. When dinner was over, Kenny cleans up, letting the children, led by Karen, scramble away to get ready for bed. Those kids were certainly messy eaters. It takes him a bit to clean up the mess left on the table and scrape the plates clean (he wasn’t about to waste precious water on washing dishes after all). After a while, he steps out of the kitchen to a group of children gathered around the ratty couch waiting in anticipation. It was story time again, of course. With the lack of most forms of entertainment that kids had back when things were normal, Kenny was pretty much the new center of amusement. If they couldn’t watch T.V. anymore, the next best thing to a serialized story they were going to get was bedtime stories with Kenny. He rolls his eyes eyes with a smile, plopping down in the middle of the couch as everyone else closes in around him. “Where was I…” He muses, rubbing his chin for a moment before raising a finger in playful realization. “Ah yes… So, there Mysterion was, face to face with his arch-nemesis, Professor Chaos. He was corner by his minions, but he wasn’t going to let him win that easily….” Eventually, Kenny tuckered himself out just as much as the kids from talking for so long. They all protested against bedtime, as children do, but their yawns betrayed them. With the help of Karen, he helps tuck them all in in the room they had set up for them in what used to be Kevin’s room. Kenny had no idea where he was, and he tried not to think about it. Finally, he says goodbye to his sister before retreating to his own room for the night. With a deep sigh, he flops down on his bed, his smile fading. It was hard work, putting on a brave face all day. With a deep breath, shuddering, he lifts a tattered orange sleeve to cover his eyes. He was doing his best, but it just never felt like it was enough. Kenny’s eyes open again from the darkness, Karen’s there. She’s screaming, an ear piecing scream, it makes him feel sick, and he panics. What the hell was happening? Then, there’s a crunch, and his mouth is filled with warmth, the taste of iron on his tongue. He looks down, it’s an arm. He’s biting into an arm. His eyes travel up the arm. It’s Karen’s arm. Suddenly, the scene changes. He’s watching himself. Kenny  has one hand over Karen’s mouth, muffling her screams as she thrashes and cries. His other hand is holding a bone saw just below her shoulder, and he’s sawing. Back and forth. He’s sawing off the arm that he bit. Back and forth. It’s his fault. Back and forth, back and forth, back and forth– Then he wakes up, sitting upright in bed, drenched in a cold sweat and breathing manically. Kenny runs a hand through his dirty blonde hair, that dream again. That same fucking nightmare. It was so real, too real. He knew all too well what it meant, how possible it was for that to come true. Kenny’s eyes waver over to the handgun on his bedside table. “Don’t waste your bullets Kenny,” He mumbles to himself, crawling out of bed, “It’s another day.“ 

Accepted! I’ll send you a link to the server through a Tumblr PM. Welcome to the apocalypse

[malmuses]

A Very Human Risk - Part 1 - Sam

Author’s Notes:

My very first fanfic, not to mention the first thing I’ve written in at least 10 years. Eek! This tumblr is really for myself, to prove that I can do it... but just in case anyone stumbles across it, here’s a quick Authors Note and summary.

There are 6 parts to this fic, from various character points of view, and an epilogue. (So technically 7 parts I suppose....) They are all already complete, but I plan on posting them separately over the next couple of weeks after proofing and editing. If anyone reads, I’d love a message or comment to say hi! I’ll likely post a more in-depth authors note when I’m done.

This fic is set during early to mid Season 13, shortly after Cas’s return from The Empty. 

Summary

Team Free Will’s thousand mile journey home from a routine hunt is going to take a little longer than planned. Sam’s patience with Dean and his Angel’s lack of true communication doesn’t last that far...

Destiel, Humor, Optional Smut. GO!

Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3 - Part 4 - Part 5

A Very Human Risk

Part One - Sam

Blood. Miscellaneous viscera. A small chunk of what might be intestine… more blood. Sam idly examined the stains on his pants while he waited for the lights to change. He was sat shotgun in the front of the Impala, ignoring the thump of his possibly-concussed head so that Dean could swing them through the drive-thru of a small mom-and-pop burger joint near Zebulon, North Carolina. Something clear and kinda greasy… was that spinal fluid? Some days, it was definitely better to pick a food option where they didn’t have to get out of the car. In the wide back seat, Cas shifted his weight forward and reached into the driver’s space. He seemed miraculously clean himself, but he had no qualms or squeamishness about the lump of something-or-other he flicked out of Deans sandy hair. There was a tiny plop as whatever-it-was landed on the dashboard.

“Hey, watch the tunes…” Dean grumbled mildly, pushing a slightly yellowed cassette of Styx songs away from the chunk.

Cas made no response, instead retreating to his often worn silent-but-listening expression and returning his gaze out of the window.

A few minutes later, Dean passed a large brown bag of warmth and questionable nutrition over to Sam, who settled it on his lap among the stains and began to rifle through as they made their way back to the highway. “They forgot a fork for my salad…” Sam lamented quietly.

“Guess you’ll have to eat it straight out of the bowl, like a true rabbit.” Dean offered with a slight grin. His words were teasing, but his tone was thin and tired. He shifted in his seat, wincing sorely at an assortment of minor wounds.

They had been on the road for several hours since they ganked a whole nest of vampires near the coast, trying to make sure they’d shaken a particularly curious traffic cop who pulled them on the way back from cleaning up the remains. He’d found no issue with the license of a certain Edward Halen, thank Chuck, but had seemed more than a little disturbed by the state of the car and its occupants. Dean had thought it best to ditch their plan to wash up in a nearby motel and stay on the road until they were well clear. Although filthy, beaten and in several cases bleeding, none of them were gravely wounded and they figured a good few hours of the road back home couldn’t hurt.

“You should rest soon.” It was a statement from Cas in the back. “Or at least shower…”

We must smell awful to him, Sam contemplated.

Dean opened his mouth to offer a quick retort, but after a couple of seconds he merely sighed and agreed. 

“Yeah. Let’s find somewhere with a room for tonight. It’s over a thousand miles back to Kansas, so we’re not getting back to the Bunker today anyways. Or at least a by-the-hour with a ton of hot water.” 

He paused briefly to check the traffic before swinging the car out onto the highway. “I’ll head towards Raleigh, there’s bound to be some kinda motel before we hit the city.”

Sam nodded idly, distracted by more pressing matters. “Dean, did you seriously order three cheeseburgers?”

“Yes.” His brother snapped, before rolling his eyes and relenting. “One’s for Cas, bitch.”

“Cas doesn’t eat, jerk.”

“Oh, but I can.” The speed with which Cas snatched the offending item from Sam’s hand was really unnecessary. Sam watched Dean’s eyes slide back to look at the angel as he unwrapped the greasy package, biting into the burger with a contented little sigh. His brother looked pleased with himself, a tiny smile curling his lip as their eyes caught and hovered for just a second too long, before Dean had to return his gaze to the tarmac. Sam said nothing; he’d been around these two long enough to know moments like that weren’t his to intrude on. The silence that followed though… that bugged him a lot more than it used to before.

* * *

Throwing the motel card to Dean, Sam ducked down into the driver’s seat of the Impala. 

“Go grab the first shower Dean, so we can get your injuries patched up…. Cas and I will run to that grocery store we passed and grab some beer and snacks for later.”

Without waiting for a response, Sam spun out of the Motel 8 parking lot. Looking over his shoulder he caught Cas’s slightly confused expression, but the angel said nothing and remained in place on the back seat, almost eerily immobile as the Impala lurched over the uneven gravel. It took only a couple of minutes to get to the Food Lion parking lot. As the car settled, Sam took the key and slipped it into his pocket, but didn’t immediately move.

“Perhaps I should fetch the beer, Sam.” Cas rumbled mildly. “For once, I may draw less attention.” He gestured to Sam’s splattered clothing.

“Yeah, I really took the brunt of the spray when Dean hacked that brunette.”

The door creaked as Cas began to open it.

“Cas?”

“Yes, Sam?”

Sam took a moment, before turning his giant form in the seat so he could look at the angelic face in the back, who still had one hand on the door handle. “Do you love my brother, Cas?”

A ghost of something shot across Castiel’s brilliant blue eyes before he responded. “Of course, Sam. You’re both family to me.”

Sam chuckled slightly, but it was a sad sound. 

“Of course.” Despite his tone, his smile to the angel was genuinely fond.  “But… I watched Dean grieve for you when you were in the Empty, Cas. I’ve seen him grieve plenty over the years…Grief for family. Dad. Mom. Bobby… For friends, for Charlie, Kevin, Ellen and Jo…. We thought you were really gone, Cas. Christ, I missed you too. It was awful. But Dean…. I’ve never seen him grieve like that Cas. He lost himself.”

The silence in the trench coat loomed for several moments.

“I’m so sorry you had to go through that, Sam.” His voice a soft, frustrated growl. “It was a stupid move on my part… I was reckless and you paid for that.”

“You made a snap decision Cas, we’ve all done worse,” Sam comforts. “But that’s not my point.”

Castiel’s gaze dropped down and he began to fidget uncharacteristically with his tie.

Sam thinks for a moment about how mad Dean would be if he knew this conversation was why he had kidnapped the angel from the motel. Eh. At least he’ll have something valid to be angry about this week.

“He broke, Cas. He hasn’t told you, but… When I say he lost himself? He almost died. I think he tried…..” Sam’s gentle voice trailed off momentarily as he became aware that he was now using the same tone to speak to Cas as he used to soothe distressed victims and the inevitable bereaved family members they often came across during hunts. “…I mean, I don’t know that he made the conscious decision, but… the day that you came back, he died. To find a ghost. He was gone for a long time… too long. I don’t think he really cared if he came back. Not with you gone.”

When the angel’s eyes rose back up to Sam’s face, the blue was dangerously dark and his brow furrowed noticeably. “You think Dean would give up like that? Because of me?”

“I think….” Sam spread his hands in a calming gesture. “I just think he was grieving for something… more.”

In a moment of bravery, Sam reached awkwardly into the back seat and rested his hand on the angel’s knee. “I just thought… if I told you, maybe…..” He trailed off, unsure now.

Cas looked down at the hand resting on his dress pants, his gaze giving away that it was a strangely alien sight. Cas and Dean shared friendly touches and personal space often. It was comfortable now, normal. But despite the occasional hug or shoulder clap in their history, Sam didn’t usually invade his space more than he had to. His brief smile was grateful.

His otherworldly blue eyes drifted out of the window and rested on an elderly man headed into the grocery store with a cart, following him for a long moment before he eventually looked back to the younger Winchester.

“Sam, you know that… closeness between Humans and Angels is frowned upon.”

It wasn’t quite an admission, but Sam caught it, a small smile breaking his huge face. 

“Being a rebel is hardly new to you, Cas… and it’s not like you and Dean could create a Nephilim or anything. At least, uh…” Sam’s brow furrowed. Could they? Angels didn’t even have a gender, so how much did the vessel really…..

As if watching the cogs in Sam’s brain turn, Cas interrupted briefly. “No. Male human, male angelic vessel. No Nephilim risk there.” He seemed slightly amused by Sam’s momentary confusion, something akin to a smirk briefly passing his lips.

“Right.” Sam’s laugh was somehow relieved. Good. That would be weird as fuck.

Minutes passed, in not totally uncomfortable silence.

“Sam?”

Pushing his hair back behind his ear, Sam quickly brought his attention back to the angel. “Yeah?” He tried for his best open, accepting smile.

“Am I to take it then, that… You would not be adverse to any change in mine and Dean’s… our… relationship? Such as it is?”  Cas seemed to stumble a little with the wording, finding his tongue betraying him in his moment of need, attempting to voice something he had kept unspoken for the best part of a decade. “I’m… nothing, really. Not quite an angel anymore, not quite a human…. and my vessel is male. Dean hasn’t ever indicated that he would, uh, want….”

Cas’s voice gives up the ghost entirely, a flush working its way out of his white shirt collar, much to Sam’s slightly cruel delight. He took a second to bite back a teasing response, not wanting to spook the angel in a pivotal moment. 

“Castiel.” Using the angel’s full name seemed to calm his gaze and bring his attention back to Sam. “You’re my brother, man. Maybe not by blood born...but damn, by blood spilled, you’re my brother. I can’t tell you what Dean wants, or for sure how he’ll react….but I know what I’ve seen, these past years. Life is too short… human life, anyway. I just wanted you to know so that… if you wanted to talk to him, you’d know you had my blessing and my support. Whatever happens.”

“What if he doesn’t want me, Sam?”

The gigantic Winchester was suddenly floored by the raw vulnerability in the angel’s voice. From his awkwardly turned position in the front of the Impala, all he can do is firmly squeeze Castiel’s knee.

“Well… that’s a very human risk, Cas. You may be an angel again, but you out of them all know what it is to feel…. and I think even as an angel you’re capable of sharing that terrifying little part of humanity. All I can tell you is that I’m here for you dude, as trite as that sounds.”

Cas can only nod, his gaze resting soulfully on Sam’s comforting hand.

--------------------------------------

That’s it for today! I’ll be back in a couple of days with Part 2, where we pick up with Dean.

Edit: This fic is now complete! 

Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3 - Part 4 - Part 5 - Part 6

[daddysfavouriteboytoy]

Tate March

Name: Tate March Nickname: Teddy Age: 24 Gender: Male Sexuality: Pansexual Species: Human/Medium Appearance: (Face-claim: Froy Gutierrez)

Height: 1,86 m Personality: At first glance, Tate seems like a really strange boy, people often catch him talking to himself or starring holes into the air but not like he's in thoughts, more like he's looking at someone. Being an extremely private person when it comes to his personal life and having problems trusting strangers, don't make Tate seem any less weird. However, as soon as other people break his walls down and get him to feel comfortable around them, he shows how altruistic, helpful and kind he really is. Besides, Tate has a vivid imagination with a strong sense of compassion, which he often uses for finding the perfect solution to a problem of himself or one of a friend. Also, being a perfectionist, Tate is very determined and passionate about things which are important to him. Even though he is very sensitive and seems weak-minded, the latter traits aren't right in the slightest because Tate is not only determined to follow through on his ideas but also surprisingly inspiring, convincing and insightful, seeing through dishonesty and disingenuous motives easily and making it very hard to trust dishonest people. Whenever Tate should do something, he always needs to have a cause because he gets so caught up in his passion that work which comes between them is deeply unwelcome. Besides, Tate has little patience for routine maintenance of himself and burns out easily, this way he needs a very good reason for things which sound senseless or useless to him. Relationships: Michelle March - mother; 48 years old; nurse; divorced; alive Andreas Hellinger - father; 50 years old; unknown Helena March - grandmother - deceased Likes: Cookie, horror movies, cats, tea, coffee, plush toys, his motorcycle, friendly spirits, helping other people, spicy food Dislikes: when spirits won't leave him alone, dramatic people, people who think that he's crazy, getting up early, white chocolate, demons, seeing his own blood, sour sweets, one-sided love, romantic novels Hobbies: camping, collecting plush toys, meditation, yoga, badminton Occupation: Student, jobs halftime as a cashier at a bookshop Position: Switch Virgin: No Turn-ons: glasses, french kisses, leaving hickeys, aftercare, suits/uniforms, dirty talk Turn-offs: dirty places, being watched, threesomes, glory holes, body fluids, the smell of cigarettes Other:

sees spirits or ghost even on pictures

has a crush on his best lesbian friend

studies medicine

has two cat brothers named Kevin and Peter

Cookie can show himself to other people but rarely does so

Backstory: Tate already was special as a small child, because he was born with the ability to see and talk to spirits. The first time he and his parents realized that was when Tate suddenly began talking to his late grandmother during dinner. His religious father got creeped out, calling his son a devil's child and his mother a witch and left them for a woman he already had an affair with before Tate was even born. However, his mother, Michelle, stayed with him and helped her son through all the bullying and fights he had with other kids because of his ability. The woman explained to Tate that humans are afraid of the unknown, whenever he ran crying to her and asked why the other kids were so mean to him. Michelle knew that her son wasn't crazy because her sister and mother also could see and talk to spirits before both died in a car accident a few days before Tate was born. As the boy grew older, he learned not to talk about his abilities in front of others, so the other kids wouldn't think he was weird. However, whenever the boy was alone at home, he talked to his grandmother's spirit. The already dead woman taught him how to control his ability, how to use it properly and how to call a certain spirit or make unwanted ones go away. She shared her whole knowledge with her grandson. The first time Tate tried to contact another spirit, his grandfather, the boy accidentally called a ghost instead of a spirit. A ghost could be best described by comparing it to a pet, just an undead one. Tate tried everything to get rid of the ghost. Unfortunately, the little, undead creature got attached to the young boy and wouldn't leave him alone anymore. At first, it was hard for Tate, but he eventually accepted the ghost, after all, he couldn't change it anyway. However, it still took him years to get used and even comfortable with the situation. The first step of doing so was for Tate to name the ghost. The ghost got named Cookie because it was as intelligent as one... and because it always stole all the biscuits Tate's mother made. It also took quite long to explain the whole situation to Michelle and as long as Cookie only stole the biscuits she made and wouldn't bother her otherwise, Tate was allowed to keep him. As more years passed his grandmother eventually stopped visiting after she taught her grandson everything she knew but Tate could always contact her of course. During this time, he also learned to accept his fate and didn't hide his abilities anymore. However, this didn't mean that Tate tells everyone he meets about his power. People who didn't know about the boy's ability had to find out for themselves.

Starter

[spookyspaghettisundae]

Lost Number

Even at sunset, the yellow fireball in the sky was scorching hot, and there was not a single waking soul around for miles. A dusty old tour bus softly swayed in the unforgiving desert winds. Beached in the sand like a steel whale, the bus stood several steps away from the road, a thin strip of cracked asphalt that cut through the landscape of red sand, sparse vegetation, and rocky hills.

The door on the side of the bus burst open, and a lean figure stumbled outside. If anybody but a vulture perched on a rock had been looking, they would have had to have taken a moment to discern the gender of the person who had emerged from the large vehicle.

It was Kevin. His androgynous attire was typical of a grungy stage persona, perhaps a rock musician of sorts. Black boots and fingerless gloves, nylon stockings, a weird blend of half-cut and half-ripped shirts and vests as well as shorts. His fingernails were, in an alternating pattern, painted black and white each, his face smudged with stark white paint and smeared mascara that had dried after running from his eyes, and his bright red hair was a mess of strands of hair jutting in all directions. In a way that looked like a deliberately stylized mess. Well, mostly.

As he leaned forward, he staggered as if he was losing balance but then braced himself against his knees with both hands. Accompanied by squelching sounds and a disgusting stream of orange-beige something ejecting from his mouth in a stream, he vomited onto a patch of sand in front of him. And then some more. A few minutes passed there. After spitting a few more times, he wiped over his mouth with the back of his hand and convulsed, visibly fighting the urge to vomit yet again.

Kevin stood back up straight and looked wobbly on his feet. He looked around, unclear as to where he was. As if the desolate sight of his surroundings made him dizzier than he must have already been, he stumbled back towards the bus door he had exploded from. He paused when he heard a coyote howl in the distance.

The blue sky was melting into a painting of red and pink tones, dabbed with strokes of clouds pulling up. The sun was setting quickly. With one more glance towards the dying light, Kevin winced and pulled himself into the bus with the aid of the railing inside.

He looked around. The inside of the bus looked like it had been hit by a hurricane. Part of that was to be expected, as it belonged to the usual scenery. Half-empty beer cans, a crumpled stack of pizza boxes, an ashtray that had been overturned, leaving a chaos of ashes and cigarette butts strewn all over the place, a used condom hanging from a drawer handle, lines of cocaine that had been haphazardly sniffed off of a bass guitar now resting on a cushioned bench, a bag of chips that crunched under one of Kevin’s boots as he took a cautious step inside, and so forth. In fact, it was impossible to stand anywhere without stepping on trash of some sort.

What was not to be expected was the absolute absence of anybody else.

Kevin shoved the toilet door open. Nobody. He gripped the handle to a back room and felt something wet. He looked at his hand and it was covered in red. He raised the hand to his face and sniffed. Then timidly licked it. Ketchup, but really sour. Disgusting. He swung the door open. Nobody. With more sounds of cracking and crackling and crunching under his boots as he traversed the bus, he returned to the driver’s seat. Nobody there, either. No keys in the ignition.

At this point, he was trying to reconstruct what had happened to everybody. The events of the night before were a jumble. He blamed the brownies and seven cans of beer. Their band was called The Lost Number. He was Kevin Fuller, the bassist. After last night’s gig at a roadhouse, and an encore of their fan favorite Sexy Vampire in the Basement, they had wound up in the bus in the company of some groupies with a lot of food, booze, a modest amount of drugs. And they had partied. Hard.

Some of it was coming back to him. Him and Brent had dunked Rick’s head in the toilet after he had passed out from snorting coke with a nosebleed and they could barely stop laughing at how he flailed around with a sopping wet head while waking up like that. One of the girls had dared Kevin to make out with her guy friend and he did it nonchalantly as he was bi-curious anyway and had been way too stoned to care. Brent pulled a gun and shot through the roof of the bus, yelling something about nobody calling the cops—and right now, Kevin looked up in the middle of the bus and saw the bullet hole. Then blinked. His hands were shaking.

He pushed his cocaine-covered bass aside and finally sat down in the messy booth with an exhausted groan. Leaning over and struggling with his head spinning from the motion, he fished a half-smoked joint off the floor. He blindly grabbed a stainless steel lighter off the table, flicked it up and lit the roach all in one fluid motion that spoke volumes of pointless drug excesses.

Where the hell was everybody?

Instead of calming him down, the hits he took brought back the most important memory. It was more like a flash of bright light, and he pressed his palm against his forehead, as if it would help against a surge of searing pain that shot through his brain.

“I can show you real magick,” Michael had said. “That’s magick with a ‘k’, the real deal.”

Michael was the guy he had made out with on the dare. Their strange conversations from later on that night were surfacing.

“The general rule of magick is that you always get what you give. Kinda like baking a cake but without the oven. With magick, you exchange the oven for something else, like getting the raw energy from something else. Like what? Y'know, like, human sacrifices.” He had followed that up with a magnetic chuckle.

Michael’s smile had been most enchanting. Kevin remembered feeling entranced by him as the night had dragged on. Kevin recalled having thought to himself that he thought that Michael had been magic—or magick with a ‘k’.

“Of course not. You’re only a monster if you look into the mirror and see one. See, the exchange rates on magick are way better than currencies. Depending on your breed of crazy, you will always get something for something else. Like, you never get a bum deal unless you try to game the system. You ever try that logic out in the stock market, you’re gonna get reamed. It’s an accountant’s wet dream, everything adds up. Pass that bong already?”

Kevin wracked his brain and looked around, pushing some junk off the table. Then rummaged through some drawers, though it was aimless and mindlessly done. They—as in all twenty-one people—had driven out here in the bus in the middle of the night. There had been no other cars. There were no clues. He had no idea what he was even looking for.

He took another drag from the joint, then coughed and dropped the thing and stamped it out on the stained velvet carpet.

“Lemme show you a, like, a trick,” Michael had said. He had led him to the back room and looked around. Then spotting the half-open safe, he had looked inside, pulled some drugs and other items out of it, and dumped them on the floor. Michael had looked around suspiciously, and put something into the safe. What it was, Kevin had not seen. He had been too trashed at that point to tell. Michael had toyed around with the safe and turned around to Kevin again. “You wanna find out what’s in there? Then you’re gonna have to figure out the combination, and I won’t tell you, but you can figure it out. If you’re willing to work some magick. With a 'k’. Yeah, I knew it. Your mind is fully open right now. You’re open to the whole universe up there.”

Kevin remembered seeing the clear, starry night sky over the desert. He also remembered digging in the sand with his bare hands. His gaze jolted down and his hands shot up, and he inspected his fingernails. The paint was chipped and flawed now, and there was dirt underneath his nails. A lot of it.

“So here’s how it’s gonna work. You dig a hole and read these words out loud. Then you bury this with one of the most prized possessions you have with you here, in the sands of Nowhere, US of A. Because a sacrifice is only a sacrifice if it means something to you.”

The familiar sting of cactus needles flared up from his left calf. Kevin remembered how he had drunkenly stumbled into one of those things out there, last night. On the way out to digging or on the way back? It was all too blurry. But what was in the safe, that did return to him. He had found his lighter in the safe. Though he reckoned that Michael could have picked it from his pocket like a stage magician, he only remembered it not making any sense how he had instinctively known the combination to get it back by just looking at Michael. Or how he had thought he was starting to hear people’s thoughts while looking at them last night.

“Neat, huh? Okay, look. I can show you—I can give you the real deal. Not just a minor bit of reality re-mixing, but the whole nine yards. The price is—it’s gonna cost you more, though. Way more. Y'know? The real question is, what do you want? What do you really want?”

Kevin made his way to the back room and looked at the safe. It was locked. He punched in a five-digit code. The device beeped, and nothing. He tried another. Still nothing.

“That kind of trade, that's—that’s woof. You’re messed in the head. Maybe it’s just the drugs talking. Look, it’s up to you. I just teach you how to fish, okay? The rest is your responsibility. But I mean, man, by paying a price that steep on this, you’re gonna be rocking some serious mojo. But there’s no telling what kinda bad juju will be following you around.”

Kevin did want to be number one. The main attraction of the Lost Number. Another star among the musical gods in the celestial halls of rock 'n roll legends. He had had a plan: he was going to have his breakthrough by the year 2020. But with his poor musicianship talents, too many drugs and too much alcohol, and misguided ambitions, that would have been difficult. Until now.

“And after this, we go separate ways. If we meet again one day, there’s no telling how that’ll end. You’ll start seeing the world in different ways soon. You won’t be going back. You sure you really, really want this?”

He punched the code one-one-three-three-three into the safe’s number pad. It beeped in a lighter tone and a green light flashed on the display. The small safe door clicked open. He looked inside.

Inside the safe was a mirror and Brent’s empty revolver. Kevin saw his own reflection.

—Submitted by Wratts

[piracytheorist]

Yet another meme. I crossed some I didn’t like.

1) Put your iTunes on shuffle. Give me the first 6 songs that pop up.

Thetawaves - System of a Down The Sacrifice - Michael Nyman Donde Estas, Yolanda? - Pink Martini First Aid Kit - Wolf Sarabande from J.S. Bach’s Cello Suite No. 1 Russian Dance - Trepak, from Tchaikovsky’s Nutcracker Suite.

2) If you could meet anyone on this earth, who would it be?

Colin O’Donoghue.

3) Grab the book nearest to you, turn to page 23, give me line 17.

From Kevin Brooks’ YA novel “Being”

Damn it, page 23 has only 9 lines. From page 24 then,

“I jabbed the gun against Ryan’s head.”

4) What do you think about most?

Exactly what my blog is about.

5) What does your latest text message from someone else say?

The payment code I sent to my roomate so that she could pay the electricity bill.

6) Do you sleep with or without clothes on?

Clothes on.

7) What's your strangest talent?

I don’t think I have talents... just some practiced skills.

8) 9) Ever had a poem or song written about you?

Not about me, but once I gave my late uncle’s lyrics (that he had asked me to put into music or have someone do it) to a composer friend to write a piece on it.

10) When is the last time you played the air guitar?

Yesterday, I think, in the tune of Sweet Child o’ Mine.

11) Do you have any strange phobias?

That electricity may strike me if I wash the dishes while the boiler is on.

12) Ever stuck a foreign object up your nose?

None that I can recall.

13) What's your religion?

Agnostic.

14) If you are outside, what are you most likely doing?

Walking towards somewhere, listening to music.

15) Do you prefer to be behind the camera or in front of it?

Both.

16) Simple but extremely complex. Favorite band?

It is complex indeed. If I had to choose one I’d go with Blackmore’s Night.

17) What was the last lie you told?

I can’t recall. I don’t lie easily, or convincingly.

18) Do you believe in karma?

Maybe?

19) What does your URL mean?

It’s a combination of the words lilly (incorrect, I know, but I didn’t back then when I chose that url) and pond.

20) What is your greatest weakness; your greatest strength?

Lack of self-confidence/I actually think I’ve got a lot of stuff figured out in comparison to other people of my age.

21) Who is your celebrity crush?

Colin O’Donoghue, some three years now.

22) Have you ever gone skinny dipping?

No, but I would be sort of interested to. I never felt comfortable in a bikini.

23) How do you vent your anger?

Lol. I don’t, I guess. It just pents up.

24) Do you have a collection of anything?

When I travel, I like to keep all the booklets, the tickets, the receipts from things I bought, some coins...

25) Do you prefer talking on the phone or video chatting online?

Video chatting, if it’s possible.

26) Are you happy with the person you've become?

I’m yet to evolve and I hope I can get better at some parts.

27) What's a sound you hate; sound you love?

Drilling machines/ My cat’s purr.

28) What's your biggest "what if"?

What if I was born a man? Seriously. I don’t think I’m gender--fluid, but I’ve thought many times how different I might have been if I were a guy.

29) Do you believe in ghosts? How about aliens?

Ghosts, no. Aliens, sure, it’s just that we can’t sense or see them.

30) Stick your right arm out; what do you touch first? Do the same with your left arm.

Right arm, a Nutella jar. Left arm, a tea light candle.

31) Smell the air. What do you smell?

Nothing. There’s a small sense of my cat’s scent around.

32) What's the worst place you have ever been to?

Public restrooms at the Greek borders to FYROM. I hadn’t peed in hours (we were having a road trip) but I kept it in for a few more because oh. my. God.

33) Choose East Coast or West Coast?

Don’t know the difference.

34) Most attractive singer of your opposite gender?

Colin O’Donoghue.

35) To you, what is the meaning of life?

Do things and leave them better than you found them.

36) Define Art.

Creation, messages, beauty either in the inside or the outside.

37) Do you believe in luck?

Yep, and I actually think I’ve got lots.

38) What's the weather like right now?

Slightly raining.

39) What time is it?

12:20 am

40) 41) What was the last book you read?

I haven’t actually read a book in years. Headhunters by Jo Nesbo was the last one.

42) Do you like the smell of gasoline?

Nope.

43) Do you have any nicknames?

Duni or Duduna, for the way I used to mispronounce my name when I was very little.

44) What was the last movie you saw?

Moana.

45) What's the worst injury you've ever had?

I split my forehead open while playing in kindergarten and had a few stitches. I still have the scar.

46) Have you ever caught a butterfly?

No. But I have touched one’s wings once. I think I must have killed it back then.

47) Do you have any obsessions right now?

OUAT. With the way I’m all about it, it is an obsession.

48) What's your sexual orientation?

Mostly grey asexual.

49) Ever had a rumor spread about you?

About me specifically, none that I can recall.

50) Do you believe in magic?

I used to.

51) Do you tend to hold grudges against people who have done you wrong?

Oh boy, that is ALL me. It’s one of the reasons I sympathized with Hook.

52) What is your astrological sign?

Cancer.

53) Do you save money or spend it?

I try to save it. I don’t spend that much besides basic needs (and chocolate).

54) What's the last thing you purchased?

That Nutella jar I mentioned above.

55) Love or lust?

Why not both.

56) In a relationship?

Nope.

57) How many relationships have you had?

None.

58) Can you touch your nose with your tongue?

Nope.

59) Where were you yesterday?

Home, visited the beach, attended a mini concert of a fellow student, back home.

60) Is there anything pink within 10 feet of you?

My eye pencil sharpener, a water bottle cap, the toes of my socks (those are light pink).

61) Are you wearing socks right now?

Lol I didn’t even read that question before answering the above! Yes, apparently.

62) What's your favorite animal?

CATS ^.^

63) What is your secret weapon to get someone to like you?

Lol. Honesty?

64) Where is your best friend?

Outside with another friend. I didn’t have the mood to join.

65)   -- I don’t know why that one is missing. 66) What is your heritage?

What is that supposed to mean? I think I’m too young to have one yet.

67) What were you doing last night at 12 AM?

I’m not sure but I probably was here again.

68) What do you think is Satan's last name?

He doesn’t have one.

70) Are you the kind of friend you would want to have as a friend?

At the moment, probably yes because we would give each other a lot of time to spend alone.

71) You are walking down the street on your way to work. There is a dog drowning in the canal on the side of the street. Your boss has told you if you are late one more time you get fired. What do you do?

Get wet and then fired. But I would have tried to make the circumstances so that I wouldn’t have been late before that.

72) 73) You can only have one of these things; trust or love.

Trust. Without trust, there is no love.

74) What's a song that always makes you happy when you hear it?

Dernière Danse by Indila.

75) What are the last four digits in your cell phone number?

6234.

76) In your opinion, what makes a great relationship?

Trust, building each other up, humor, lots.

77) How can I win your heart?

By having the above traits.

78) Can insanity bring on more creativity?

Of course.

79) What is the single best decision you have made in your life so far?

Probably come here to study music.

80) What size shoes do you wear?

I say 39. In UK that’s 6, in the US it’s 8.5, in Japan it’s 25.

81) 82) What is your favorite word?

I don’t think I can choose one, but I like ones that have lots of L’s in them.

83) Give me the first thing that comes to mind when you hear the word; heart.

Red.

84) What is a saying you say a lot?

The one I’m looking for is, apparently, Haste makes waste in English. Though the literal translation from Greek is Whoever hurries, stumbles. So it’s more like someone telling the one who hurried “You had it coming”

85) What's the last song you listened to?

Listening right now: District 12 Ruins by James Newton Howard from the soundtrack of Mockingjay: Part 1.

86) 87) What is your current desktop picture?

This picture.

88) If you could press a button and make anyone in the world instantaneously explode, who would it be?

Drumpf.

89) What would be a question you'd be afraid to tell the truth on?

Offline, how much time I’ve spent analyzing and fangirling over Captain Swan.

90) 91) You accidentally eat some radioactive vegetables. They were good, and what's even cooler is that they endow you with the super-power of your choice! What is that power?

Healing.

92) You can re-live any point of time in your life. The time-span can only be a half-hour, though. What half-hour of your past would you like to experience again?

If I could relive moments from my infanthood, I would go back and see my grandmother who died when I was 1. If not, that time that I saw Circle of Life performed live. 

93) You can erase any horrible experience from your past. What will it be?

Erase the memory or erase the thing happening? If it’s the latter, I’ve got some things, but for the former, erase a really nasty arguing I had with my mother once.

94) 95) You just got a free plane ticket to anywhere. You have to depart right now. Where are you gonna go?

Rovaniemi, Finland.

96) Do you have any relatives in jail?

None that I know of.

97) Have you ever thrown up in the car?

I have a very weak stomach when it comes to motion sickness, and when I was little they didn’t give me medication for some reason, so yes.

98) Ever been on a plane?

12 times.

99) If the whole world were listening to you right now, what would you say?

Just fucking love each other for fuck’s sake.

[limejuicer1862]

Wombwell Rainbow Interviews

I am honoured and privileged that the following writers local, national and international have agreed to be interviewed by me. I gave the writers two options: an emailed list of questions or a more fluid interview via messenger. The usual ground is covered about motivation, daily routines and work ethic, but some surprises too. Some of these poets you may know, others may be new to you. I hope you enjoy the experience as much as I do.

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Anne Tannam

is a page and performance poet from Dublin. Her first collection of poetry Take This Life was published in 2011 by WordOnTheStreet. Her work has appeared in literary magazines in Ireland and abroad and has featured on RTE Radio’s Arena and on local radio. She has performed at literary events and festivals across Ireland including Lingo, Electric Picnic, Cúirt, Over The Edge, Ó Bheál, Word Jungle and Blackwater International Poetry Festival. Anne is co-founder of the weekly Dublin Writers’ Forum and has been the featured reader at literary events across Ireland including the Sunflower Sessions, Monday Echo, Staccato, Mixed Messages, Glór, Stanzas, Tongue Box, Merg Sessions, Flying South, Dublin’s Underground Beat & Dublin Indie Spirit. In October 2016 Anne was writer-in-residence at Chennai Mathematical Institute in India.

https://www.salmonpoetry.com/details.php?ID=426&a=304

https://www.creativecoaching.ie/about/

The Interview

1. What inspired you to write poetry?

Though I enjoyed poetry in school and really enjoyed it in college (despite the fact that at the time we had very little opportunity to study female poets as the canon was so heavily weighed in the other gender direction), I never dreamt I could actually write the stuff myself! Song lyrics had a big influence on me too, as I was raised on a diet of music from an older brother. I think it was my best friend who inspired me to write, when she gifted me the anthology ‘Poem For The Day’ edited by Nicholas Albe. From that moment I began to daily read poetry so that when eventually I plucked up in the courage to write when I turned forty, poetry was the natural choice for me.

2. Who introduced you to poetry?

I remember one professor in college who really opened me up to what poetry could achieve in such a short amount of time and space. I’d always sensed there was a magic to it, but he allowed me to see behind the curtain.

3. How aware were you of the dominating presence of older poets?

I came from a background of readers but absolutely no writers. The idea that I could actually myself, that it was within my power to take up a pen, or click on the keyboard and create a poem, was beyond the powers of my imagination. At the time, I wasn’t aware there were wonderful Irish female poets like Eavan Boland and Paula Meehan blazing the trail for me.

4. What is your daily writing routine?

I’m writing now for thirteen years and my routine has changed many times over those years. Like nearly all poets I also work to pay the rent so writing has always been a part-time activity. In my first year of writing I religiously wrote for an hour every day first thing in the morning, but now I write for half an hour a few times a week and try and give over Sunday morning to it. I also co-run a weekly writers’ forum on a Thursday evening so the writing gets to go dancing on a weekday night!

5. What motivates you to write?

The joy of playing with language and articulating what I need to say. There is nothing like the feeling of capturing complex emotional experiences in a few short lines. When the work is shared with others I’m hugely encouraged and motivated when people tell me that a particular poem names their emotional truth, and that they feel somehow heard too. It’s the universality of the emotional truth behind our very personal experiences that poetry captures so beautifully.

6. What is your work ethic?

Some weeks I’m very industrious and others not so but looking at it over a longer period of time I can say that I always turn-up in some form or other to the writing, and I’ve been faithful to my craft since I began. I’m always learning more about myself as a writer and learning from other poets who are masters of their craft.

7. How do the writers you read when you were young influence you today?

The poet that influenced me the most growing up was Patrick Kavanagh and his work still resonates with me, but there are so many amazing modern poets now clamouring for my attention, that I don’t pay too much attention any more to the poets I grew up with, apart from regarding them fondly when I come across them again.

8. Who of today’s writers do you admire the most and why?

That’s too hard a question to answer! I read across a wide range of genres, though of course poetry is always in the mix. I’ll cheat by sharing the last three writers I’ve read and why I admire them.

Helen Tookey ‘City of Departure’ (Poetry) – such a confident and accomplished writer and how easily she moves from a complex idea, to how that idea plays out in our ordinary lives.

Kevin Barry – ‘Night Boat to Tangier’ (Novel) – his incredible mastery of language which he uses like a keg a dynamite.

Lucy Sweeney Byrne – ‘Paris Syndrome’ (Short Stories) – a debut collection that I wish I could have read when I was young. Brilliantly written, it unflinchingly describes what it means to navigate the world when you’re not tied down with notions of ‘nice’.

9. Why do you write, as opposed to doing anything else?

Because I can’t draw! Seriously, I so admire artists who can express what it means to be human through visual art. I write because I discovered late in life that I could. I write because when the words are flowing, I feel aligned and there is no other feeling in the world like it.

10. What would you say to someone who asked you “How do you become a writer?”

It’s a cliché, but I’d simply say you become a writer by writing. Ignore the voice in your head that is holding you back and write.  Find your own voice by writing your way to where it’s been hiding. Write regularly and read all the time.

11. Tell me about the writing projects you have on at the moment.

I’m currently working on the second draft of my third collection ’26 Letters of a New Alphabet’ which will be coming out next summer.  I’m also working on a ten-month community project in Dublin called ‘Cabbage Quarter Conversations’ where I’ll be pulling together a series of poems which will be based on the fantastic stories I’m hearing from residents.

Wombwell Rainbow Interviews: Anne Tannam Wombwell Rainbow Interviews I am honoured and privileged that the following writers local, national and international have agreed to be interviewed by me.

[strike-back-now-info]

I love everyone's opinions, and their passion, and their perceptions, which shows strong involvement among our younger generations.

This thread is great! I love everyone's opinions, and their passion, and their perceptions, which shows strong involvement among our younger generations. I take it most here are among the younger generations? Or so it seems that way, anyway. This entire premise was to assert that gender is not FLUID. What is "fluid"? a) A substance that has no fixed shape and yields easily to external pressure; a gas or (especially) a liquid. b) (Of a substance) able to flow easily. The fact of the matter is that our young children today, I'm not sure that you know, inside our public schools, are being told to conceptualize this new view. It's part of the Common Core sexuality standards and the "school climate" agenda which was written by a man named Kevin Jennings, founder of GLSEN. He was Obama's "Safe Schools Czar"...Until he was forced to step down because it was discovered that in his capacity as the founder of GLSEN he was doing seminars in public middle schools where he was showing video's to 8th graders that contained perversions which no parent approved of...One example was teaching these kids about the alternative sex practice known as "fisting". Hence, Jennings later became known as Obama's "fisting" Czar. He was let go from his post because that program he was giving to these young kids was never approved by anyone. It is also of import to note that he is a member of NAMBLA, and he got much of his beliefs and agenda from the early leaders of NAMBLA. Before he was let go as the "fisting czar" he boasted in an interview about how at least he got to write part of the Common Core sexuality standards for K to 12. He made sure that his LGBTQ themes under "school climate" was woven into the curriculum in every subject so to make it normal for children to conceptualize LGBTQ themes and therefore make schools "SAFE SPACES" for people who identify under these categories. Therefore, today,  the concept that gender is "fluid" literally portrays to school-aged CHILDREN that a person can go from boy to girl and girl to boy AT WILL, impulsively! This is child abuse! This is why so many people are so ANGRY! And have every right to be!! I don't care what you do in the privacy of your own life. I don't care who you worship, worship a damn stone if you like, but just don't stone me or mine with it! I don't care if you identify as a frog, but just don't give me or mine warts! So it's this business of taking a completely new AGENDA birthed from the machinations of the LBGTQ community and INFLICTING it upon the whole rest of society. Demanding that we embrace it, forcing it upon our innocent children while in school, for a plan to make them believe it's normal.   But to top it off, branding anyone who objects, with the big old letter B for Bigot, or R for Racist, or X for Xenophobic, or T for Transphobic, or H for Homophobic, all because the natural and universally accepted, and widely understood generation-ally accepted state of a human being tried and true, is to identify as male or female. This concept, that people can morph into female one day, and male the next, as "gender fluid" beings, is simply untrue. Have a look at the way Bruce Jenner has DISASSOCIATED from his life as a successful, Olympiad, famous, male? It is scientifically understood that people who have disassociation disorders suffer from real mental illness. Whether it's chemical, whether it's emotional, whether is psychological, it's personal in the way that individual human being is suffering and needs serious intervention and counseling.   That doesn't mean that the entire world has to CHANGE their understanding of what's universally accepted as natural in order to accommodate the psychological conditions of these others. People, who have issues like OCD for example, aren't running around demanding that we all count along with them how many times they need to flip on a light switch or step over the line in the sidewalk before they take their next step, right? Should we all have to learn all the personalities of someone who has multiple personality disorders so that we can accommodate their unfortunate psychosis too? Do we give special protections and considerations in public schools for kids who have red hair, with acne, that stutter, with a zillion freckles, you know, those kids that have been notoriously picked on throughout the generations because of their "differences"? Of course not! Because they have no lobby, no base, no personal agenda, in the way these militant LGBTQ people do. They demand special protections, elevated rights, in our public schools now too. Did you know that? All at the expense of the other children who now must sign a code of conduct agreement upon entering their new school year promising that they will agree to the terms which will cause upon them (albeit unknowingly) to forfeit their Constitutional equal rights under the law that they were born with. To substitute their unalienable rights for these unequal rights demanded of them in our public schools. That's BULLSHIT! And my school district was put on notice, face to face, by me, at a school board meeting this year,  that my child will not be signing any such document, and neither will I! But furthermore, these new rules are abridging and infringing upon the rights of every other school age child that doesn't fall within the identified groups receiving these considerations with elevated rights over theirs. Again. That's BULLSHIT! So while everyone here is ruminating over whether or not this is science or it's biological, the real question that needs to be asked is how far are we willing to take this as a society? To what end? Who is this going to inflict and confuse, and what change will we see in the future if these agenda driven perverts have their way for the long term? Worship a stone?--Fine, just don't stone me or mine with it? Identify as a frog?--Fine, just don't give me or mine warts! That's the entire issue in a nutshell. I'm not okay with where this is heading and neither should you!