#each new image/clip i see from this episode makes me more insane

[wield-the-mighty-pen]

We all know that she's judging Marinette hard right now

While secretly keeping an catalogue of which pictures to steal

[artdjgblog]

Innerview: ​Sonya Baughman​ / Review Magazine​

July 2008

Image: DJG's "Live & Let Die" Record by Paul McCartney & Wings

Note: Interview for a magazine feature.​

01) Where did you grow up and where do you live now? My young cloth diapers treaded a lot of dirt, dead animal and doggy acres in the North Central stick regions of Missouri, Mid-West, USA. Currently, adult plastic diapers drag and sag me in mid-town Kansas City, MO. The first six years had me bucking bales, falling off hay wagons, piercing my cheek on a hay bale stinger, assisting with the old cow stuck in the mud, designing elaborate tunnels and forts from tomato cages, watching “The Muppets” and “Star Wars” a lot, hearing scary stories of Leopard Man, posing for many pictures with dead and live animals, rocking out in cowboy boots to “Live & Let Die” on my Papa Smurf guitar, and crying at night to my raccoon wallpaper…among many other early formative brain tattoos. Act Two had many dry summers and the bank repossessing the farm and moving us to the home and acres where my Dad grew up. The new place had a blacktop in front of it and a gravel lane with a bridge/creek. The blacktop was a reservoir for leaving behind summertime shoe and bike impressions and for popping tar bubbles in the blistering heat. I also was of age to really explore and build many forts and treehouses in the ditches, barns and woods. Also, I started to go hunting and spend time in the fields with my Dad. We never had a shortage of animals and pets too. A lot of spare time was also spent in the sandbox or in the bedroom designing and building things based on what I saw and experienced. There was also a massive in-take of drawing and pop-culture from comics, books, music, television and movies. There wasn’t much of a cap on what my siblings and I could devour. Oh, and loads of sugary sweets and cereals. Go thr​ough the yearly motions and I end up at Southwest Missouri State University in Springfield, MO. There I got some very formal education and incredible interaction with students and design professors from the great making thing ways of Eastern Europe and Russia. I pretty much maxed out my art and design class card and was even making a ton of design work on the side for musicians. I then received a higher calling to drop out of school and make my guts out in Kansas City, MO which is where I’ve flopped around now for the past seven years. 02) Talk a little about your artistic background. Are you self-taught, did you go to college for art (if so, where)? My background is painted with loads of pop-culture from the 1980s and ’90s mixed in with the soil of farm life. I also designed and built many elaborate tree houses and forts up until the age of eighteen and spent most any spare minute in the sandbox or locked in my room drawing, reading, studying, video game playing, movie watching and just playing in general. I’ve never understood people’s ability to get bored or to not use the creation within them to ooze life out. I’ve enjoyed drawing comics, sports mascots and WWII battle scenes with my Dad at a young age that involved aircraft carriers, tanks and flags of those involved in conflict. My older brother would also draw a lot with me. He was better though. My younger sister and brother were pretty solid too. We have no idea where our creativity came from other than a great uncle, maybe? Also in my youth I would make giant collages out of magazine clippings and lots of mix tapes of Dr. Demento’s bizarre radio program and recorded and memorized many a variety of cartoon episodes and cool shows like Pee​-w​ee’s Playhouse. I’ve also been a constant collector all my life. Back in the day I was all about the whole spectrum of toys, comics, ball cards, cereal boxes and loads of other junk…even kept dead animal parts under my bed. In the fifth grade I won a county wide logo contest for a skating and bowling fun center and it was the first time I realized disappointment with design as my logo was butchered by those higher-up. In middle-school up until my junior year of high school I studied more comics, logos, sports architecture and wanted desperately to design new-vintage baseball stadiums until the realization of my poor math skills hit like a ton of collapsed buildings. I even won a Kansas City Royals baseball essay contest. Getting made fun of daily in high school stunk, but it really fueled my work ethic, dreams and caused me to lock up in my bedroom at night. Though, I still wish I would have worked harder in my youth. I still really enjoy working hard and being alone to this day. In the summer of 1996 I was selected to attend the first ever Missouri Fine Arts Academy and learned that I had more to offer with my insides and got a chance to interact with more likeminded minds. I came back to my senior year of high school with notebooks of typographic graffiti designs and a whole new language of what I thought was the art world. There was also a new art teacher at my school and he was serious and seriously cool and recognized that I had something to offer. I also came back to my senior year with more confidence in expressing myself and decided to dive into the world of graphic design for my post-high school studies. I had no idea what I was going to really do with it, but I knew I just wanted to use my gift of making stuff for the rest of my life. And graphic design somehow promised a bit more security in money than going the fine art route. Though, I’ve now managed to merge the two and to still not make any money. My high school scores had me at number 12 out of 24 in my class and I scraped the bottom of the test barrels to get me into college. Southwest Missouri State University in Springfield, MO said I could come and so I did. They were the only institution I applied for and I had liked it from my three week stay at Fine Arts Academy the previous year. College was great, but I could tell quickly that I wasn’t a top art pup like I was in my small school way back down the line. I was with the bigger dogs now. I struggled with drawing classes because I realized that I wasn’t as good as I had been told I was for the previous eighteen years. That was a set-back and I still wish to this day I would have worked harder at drawing. But, mostly I have trouble drawing in a cramped room with a ton of people breathing down my neck and at certain times of the day. The introduction and foundation art classes were more my calling and I could take the stuff home and work alone and all night. Most of my friends complained because they couldn’t wait until sophomore year when we would be on the computer for design. I didn’t really understand what I was getting into with graphic design. In fact, one day I exclaimed to my friends that I was taking the graphic design route that didn’t use computers and was entirely hands-on. They thought I was pretty insane for saying that and pretty much called me a fool. It’s kind of funny now though. I was so naïve at 18 and 19 to what the formal graphic design world was and I think I still am ten years later. Back when I was more bushy-tailed, I just wanted to make things and cut stuff out and not chain up to a computer…and I guess I’m still bushy-tailed, though I have a computer and use it mostly as a tool. When I finally did get placed in front of a computer, it was a struggle and I just couldn’t get into it and past the screen barrier. It almost stopped me from majoring in graphic design. But, we weren’t on the computer all the time as we were taught to conceptualize and to think and to be hands-on too. But, we needed to know the computer too. I just couldn’t get along with the computer for the longest time. Of course, the computer whiz kids just couldn’t wait for the next semester that involved a wordy world called typography. Which, naively enough I thought was about the art of map making. I liked maps, so I was excited too. But, I soon found out it was a whole new world that would poison the ABCs in me forever…good and bad. At least in type class we were still taught to think and do things by hand before messing with computer fonts. That first year or two of official design school was just terrible for me as I felt I wasn’t really “getting” it and didn’t think I would be happy as a graphic designer. I was just fulfilling project requirements and with zero heart or much care. It wasn’t until I haphazardly signed up to duel major in illustration that things started to make music inside of me. I began to really pour myself out and realize that I could approach things in a similar light as to when I was a child and be happy. Illustration saved me and I found my voice with it and my classmates and instructors started noticing. The energy there was great and everybody fed off of each other and helped each other see in new light(s). I also began to understand the valuable importance of the experience of my schooling as the instructors not only had a unique style of teaching, but they also had interesting backgrounds and culture from Eastern Europe and Russia. I could mildly relate to them as I was a transplant from the foreign farm world of North Missouri. After many design trips to studios I began to feel a very empty feeling with the profession I had chosen to represent my working life. It was not what I wanted to do with a “career”, or my time. I didn’t wish to work in a factory of fried monitor goo-lash. I wanted to just make stuff and at my own pace and pleasure. I was also very protective of my work and wanted parental rights and not for it to belong to another man’s name or dream. My love for music started to fuse with design and I began to start making many things on the side for musicians, which spread to other types of word-of-mouth work for me. An eye-popping lecture by modern rock poster designer Art Chantry sealed my personal deal for wanting to do my own thing. Shortly after that I decided I needed to change many gears in my life and secretly drop out of school following my final design class in the fall of 2001 and live with a band (and some) in a big old dilapidated orange house behind the original Lamar’s Donuts in Kansas City, MO. While some senior students had trouble looking for one real world client to work with for their final projects, I had close to 10 off the top of my head and whole bunch of future blank pages to fill. 03) During the time you have been making art have you always been drawn to this type of graphic expression? Did you “find” a style or did a style find you? I’d say a bit of both. I’ve never really gone for a set “style”. I’m sure that I’ve got one that has become recognizable to my thumb prints. Honestly, I never really think too hard about what I’m making or the why or how of the making until I have to answer questions like this. Then I start to over-think things. Also, whenever I’m told that I’m a good collagist or good at hand type or so-and-so rendering, then that is the only time I really make an effort to switch gears. I have boiled the majority of my output to be relational to the immediacy of my moods, thoughts, tickles, inclination and whatevers. Though, sometimes life can get in the way and I’ll have to slide down a small sliver of time and energy depletion, like I am with trying to get this writing out on time! But, I’m a big fan of cranking stuff out no matter what. Life is pretty darn short to sit on my hands. It seems that style can be a bit of a drag for some people and/or a hole. I’ve always been more in-tune to the folks who just follow what their gut, heart, hands and eyes speak instead of creating a set template. Some people never stray too far from that and only a few can truly get away with it. Edward Gorey is perhaps one of the few who could really make it work for me. I would certainly love to draw and think as well as he did, but I might be quite miserable doing the same thing over and over even if I was able to do it for a living. I think that a lot of people get confused and think they need to have a style and either invent one or pick other people’s noses instead of sniffing what they’ve been wearing all their life. Style to me is a lot like decorating or something. Though, at the same time that decoration might marriage perfectly to what somebody thinks they need. I don’t know though. Sometimes I think it’s funny when we as people think we need something to look or feel a certain way that’s already been communicated or visualized. I think that sometimes we are too caught up in what’s done before instead of thinking for ourselves. I’m guilty too. What’s really confusing to me, on a personal level, is when I get a request like, “We like all your work so make whatever you want!” and then the client ends up being really disappointed because it wasn’t in their “style” and then it’s awkward. Style is just an odd thing to me. But, most things are. I try to just trust my gutty heart and just make. 04) Do you see your work as communicating your identity or as helping to communicate the identity and message of others? … or both? I see it as me communicating what I’ve gathered from being on the Earth for 29 ½ years and spreading that manure the best I can. It’s a heaping helping to tell the story of others by telling my story. Most of my work fits into fine art and design, at least I’m always told that. I’m not really sure. Of late I’ve been pushing into more of the fine art bin. But, I’m not a big fan of labeling things and I would like to do many things with this thing I do. With design, one does have a role to play with helping somebody else tell their story, and at times, sell their story. There is also a responsibility to the venue the product is in or where it will eventually end up, whether a fine package on a shelf or a poster in the gutter. I feel it can be easy for a designer to lose perspective of the role playing. With leaving behind an identity…well, I like the idea of a paper trail, time-line and bruising thumb prints on this life. However, I don’t necessarily have the intent to say “Hey, look at me.” I am just another human, and one who happens to make things. If the work speaks or inspires (probably frightens and confuses on occasion), then that means a lot to me, especially in these fast-paced and flashy “everyone’s a designer-decorator” times with millions of images and advertisements everywhere. I think it’s great to recognize and at times celebrate gifts and achievement. But, I feel there needs to be a healthy balance. It can be a dangerous thing to play with at times. Some artists I feel become the work of art themselves and end up playing God with the gift and this saddens me as it usually ruins them in the long run. 05) Is there anything about your geographic location that has given you a unique perspective on design and the art you create? Certainly, growing up country might have my visions at a stranger advantage, and a howling merge to that with the city life now. You might see a lot of wonderfully strange things on the streets of the city due to the amount of activity by varieties of people and culture. But, only in small town Missouri do the deer pile up outside the meat locker and blood runs next door to the Baptist church as the high school band splash-marches through it. Growing up it was easy to take my lifestyle for granted. I enjoyed it immensely, but when I was 15 to 18 I wanted to get out a bit more. I was hungry to explore, and not just the many acres we lived on. I wanted the rest of the world. I became a little disgruntled with growing up country and I think that there is a certain stereotype placed upon people anywhere they are, but country folk get it pretty bad. I definitely ate from both sides of the fence, but also didn’t want to be hung up in it for a living. As I grow older I appreciate my roots a lot more and celebrate them and am very thankful. I enjoy going back home. And some day I’d like to move outside of the city to a small plot of land with a making things shack out back. But, my family home isn’t too far down the road for a getaway weekend visit to sit with the stars, coyote yips and fish. 06) What do you consider influences on your art? (this can be other artists, music, philosophy, nature – anything. this question is not just limited to “I’m a big fan of Banksy”) First thing, I believe in the compiling of all days in life to influence an artist’s output (horse apples or clean streets). Our walks tell a lot about who we are in the present prints. I feel that one would be lying to me if what they created was not in their full vision. But, I too think that we all wear and share influences as witnesses to what we’ve seen and where we’ve been. We all help shape each other. I’ve rattled off my early influences of popular culture. I think I’m more in-tune with my child’s self now than I was then as I sit alone and make things and pull from all my days. It’s also easy to feel that I was really moving and discovering more back then with naïve, childlike faith that I’m trying to get back now. I have some good days though and mostly when I’m not thinking too much. I’m still a fan of absorbing lots of things and from many angles. Of course I have my artistic influences. One of my big influences as a child was my Grandma Gibson. She is from the old school of the country and a very hands-on person with making many things like clothing, dead animal backpacks, blankets, pillows, fridge magnets and game board pieces. I still have a lot of the things from those years. I think a lot of my approach to making things came from her. My “professional” art world as a kid had an outside knowledge from trips to museums and PBS specials, though I felt a little detached from that world and still kind of do. My heroes were at the movies because they were more immediate to me, guys like Jim Henson, Stan Winston, Dr. Indiana Jones, Rambo and Han Solo. But, it was Henson’s world that opened me up to the first idea of an artist’s legacy, vision and spirit and glimpse of another world. Something big-time ached in my decade old gut the day I found out he passed away. Musically speaking I was very much a child of my Mom’s Beatles records, “oldies” music and a ton of television theme songs, novelty sing-alongs and old church songs. I still put a lot through my ears now and my biggest influences in music in my older years are Bruce Springsteen, Jeff Buckley, Elliott Smith and Bob Dylan. Also, I am still a big fan of tons of picture books and just anything really. I just know that I’ve never had bare space on the walls and shelves of my home and head. Oh, and wherever I am I’m usually distracted by the stuff on the ground. I’m a big collector of found notes, writings, scribbles, addresses, children’s drawings and good-bad-silly-stupid-smart designs. I like to collect ‘em all. I’ve also collected stamps since I was 10. I’m a big nerd. Here’s a listing of some names in the art and design canon who have made things that either attracted, influenced or moved me in some ways (in no particular order): Saul Steinberg, Seymour Chwast and Push Pin, Lester Beall, Edward Gorey, Ray Johnson, Art Chantry, Henryk Tomaszewski, Vaughn Olver and V23, Raymond Pettibon, Paul Klee, Stanley Donwood, Stefan Sagmeister, Cy Twombly, Saul Bass, Ivan Chermayeff, Ralph Steadman, Robert Rauschenberg, Jean Michel-Basquiat…most anybody who has something to say and develops a bad back carving out their paper trail. Movies are also a giant influence on my work and I study them almost daily. Some of the filmmakers who capture a certain craft of unique spirit that I enjoy include P.T. Anderson, Wes Anderson, Michel Gondry and the Coen Brothers. Folk Art is another big mind-blow and one of my favorite areas to study and get ticked by the of-the-moment heart, purity and passion. I love the idea of somebody just up and making something for the heck of it and not for art’s or ego’s sake. That’s the childlike thing I miss the most. The makers and shakers that move me the most from the folk art movement are Henry Darger, Bill Traylor and Robert E. Smith. And sometimes I get more out of the work on display in county and state fairs by everyday arts and crafters than so-called “professional” art and design work. 07) What is your perspective on the place of poster art here in the Midwest (or KC specifically) as it interacts with the rest of the art community and how the poster art coming out of this community may be perceived on a more national level? I’m curious about this because of the recognition Kansas City artists in general have been receiving lately on a national and international scale and how the art world tends to waffle between interest and disinterest in artists in this region. The music scene here is very interesting to me and a lot of times I think that it is just like 20 people all making it happen. Though, there is a lot of talent, diversity and genre-bending for a small town like this. There are a lot of groups making a mark here and down the highways, same with the people making stuff for them. Though, I get a little strange sometimes because I sometimes feel that the small scene mixed with the internet’s social networks and fewer record stores (oh, and most of my posters take up a whole bulletin board!) makes the poster almost secondary information and so-so decoration. In the same thought though, most of the stuff I see on the internet passes by me in a two-second window like that of highway advertising. Though, some do stick out to me because I’m always on the look to get tickled. And I don’t feel the art of the printed piece will die any time soon. Anyway, the scene just works here in Kansas City somehow and everybody takes care of and appreciates each other’s roles and contributions. I’ve had some great response to what I’m slapping up, but at the same time I think that a lot of people don’t get it. What’s not to get, it’s not too special? But, that’s fine with me. I’m not sure where I am in the scene. Maybe more-so in the “seen” department with my meager budgeted work hanging above a stool in the blurry-eyed late hours. I still think that toilets are one the best places for information gathering. Poster art in general in the last ten years alone has received a great breath of fresh air. Many of the makers are respected within a small collective, and have also been breaking through to represent on a national level of design aesthetic, as well as a well-rounded view of the printed timeline to life and culture. It’s also something that anybody can do and a lot of bands still just make their own stuff, which I’m cool and whatever with it. Everybody has their own style, agenda and empty pockets. But, the personal computer has saturated the landscape with a lot of “samey”. Then again, if it works, it works. In the end if it gets people interested and enthused, then what is there for a bum like me to complain about? And sometimes I really get a kick out of unskilled design stuff(s). I try to stay out of design politics for the most part. There is more to life than design dogma. Though, there is design all around us as we interact with it in every way from the tip-top of a tree to a paper scrap for this article. I enjoy the simple act of creation and inspiration that comes from something that seems like nothing, yet has always been a “something” growing and building and will continue to grow if the viewer lets it do so. You just have to add the proper mix of ingredients, I guess. And I guess my brain isn’t one to formerly function on the full realization to what it’s thinking. So, I’m babbling right now. I do know that something I’ve always enjoyed about the concert poster is the relatively short life span it has and how that can be used to the advantage. I just want to encourage people out there, designers/artists, non designers/artists or even church secretaries, to really push things and work harder. I don’t really care if everyone isn’t versed in design and art. In general I just encourage more to experiment with poster art, find your voice(s) and find new ways to spread the good word. Even if it’s not for a concert or an event, just make something and get it out there. Throw your junk off the overpasses if need be. 08) How has your work been received within the arts community here (and also in other geographic regions if you have been branching out)? For seven years now I’ve somehow managed to remain fairly anonymous and at the same time have sparkled a bit of attention…maybe just a glittering. Life and day job dwindle my hours to where it’s hard to even pay attention on my own stuff sometimes, so I don’t get out much here in the city. Though, I guess it is easier to keep up with things on the internet, papers and here-say. I think Kansas City is making her own dent right now with a wide variety of things going on in the arts landscape. The town is kind of booming and bustling right now. Being that we’re a small town, it’s easy for a small fish to get more wet feet. Though, I’ve never put my whole foot into anything. I just do my thing. Some days I’m not really sure what that thing is, but I do it despite my muck. When I first started on my design quest, like when anyone tackles something head-on, I was head-over-heels and not sleeping much. I was also living with bands and interacting more and actually going to shows several times a week. I don’t know how I did it without exhausting my ticker, but for some reason it all worked. I started to garner a little bit of buzz here that seemed to spread quick outside the state and international borders. Many people contact me from all over and slap my stuff alongside some of my design favorites in magazines and books. It’s a hoot. People are always interested in my story and creations. It’s all still really odd and blushing to me in some light that the little things I make are reaching a selective audience on a much grander scale. Anyway, I’ve certainly learned now that sleep is important and that it’s better for me to work smarter, not harder. Though, that’s not entirely the truth as I still work pretty darn hard and I believe in it greatly. Still, I’ve struggled with my own brand of discontent since I fell from a slide and blacked-out at the age of five. It’s something that I’m working and wrangling with. But, with any kind of actual work you’ve studied, worked hard with and duct taped up the switch with 24-7, you learn to just not think and rather DO and the moves become mechanical. I just have to put to use different types of oil to keep from rusting. It all becomes a fluid thing, or something constantly coming down on me in the grocery aisle, tree leave holes and side walk crack scribbles. It can be challenging when life stuff gets in the way, but I shouldn’t see it as getting in the way. I easily get confused, but then I realize that the things I experience and see and do (good-bad) all go into my design pot mixed with my past and then I just have to do the upchucking as I move forward and I tend to feel better. Recently I’ve definitely stepped back on my massive production of concert posters and I’m sure that many people reading this will think, “Geesh, I don’t think I’ve ever even seen this idiot’s work?” Not only has my life changed in some ways, but I also had to give myself permission to take a time out and to learn to say no to some things. A break was needed before burnout and bitter rotted my worms in the apple, among other things. I had a year of little activity and practiced sitting on my nest. I still made a bunch of stuff, but a lot just for me. I’ve also been involved in various group art shows around the country, design books and special art projects with friends spread about. Another thing I did, and still do, is just to see what other avenues I’d like to take my one man show. I’m learning to use the internet for the medium that it is too. Anyway, I’ve always got some stew samples back burning, but my biggest competition is myself…on top of time, energy and money. Mostly myself, as I’ve always been extremely hard on myself. Though, I’ve been told I make it look easy. I’ve never been good at math, so you go figure. I get exhausted from trying to figure this out. 09) Is artwork your main profession and, if not, are you intending to make it so? It’s really flattering and kind of sad when every spring I get more and more inquiries from freshly plucked and talented college students about a possible internship or job with DJG Design. In general, due to what most think to be a large and varied output of work, people who don’t know what I’m about think that there is a D, a J and a G making things. It always excites me to be contacted by enthused students and other design people (any walks of life, really) who saw something or connected to my work and got a spark. It makes me rosey, but it also keeps me a little down as I don’t make enough money to do this full-time. But, it all keeps me at my little basement bay working on my bad back and poor eye sight, keeps me (under)grounded in some ways. I’ve always worked full-time jobs and have been married now for three years. So, certain responsibilities come with walking hand-in-hand with another. For now I just spin the day job blues and try to stay content and disciplined, burning the fuel before and after work. But, age is setting in a bit and I’m getting antsy. I also grow tired easier. Good things do come out of day jobs, good design work does too. For the first four or five years I was a janitor and groundskeeper. So, loads of perks came from great finds, discards, dumpster dives and lots of free food and more time to read and study and draw. Heck, I even designed a few posters between clock punches. Currently my position has me staring at a computer doing data entry. The health care, artificial air and hours are great and I can walk out my back door and be there in seven minutes. But, it can be difficult to know that I’m sitting and squandering something back home. I do take it with me everywhere upstairs, and I do a bit of networking during the day time, but there is still that itch to make things full-time and not have a full plate of non-stop. It’s all hard to balance. But, making things is the only thing that I’m told that I’m somewhat good at. Well, other than eating junk food, watching movies, being confused and petting my four kitty cats. I am fast approaching thirty and the visual of time stacking is more evident than ever. Each space between second hand clicks is another scratch of tiny pine box to me. I am slowly checking off my list of “Before 30 Goals”, but I’m usually several cars back and sometimes it’s a pileup. Life takes a different course too. But, I have caught back a hold of a torch of some sort. I am constantly tacking up side boards to the wagon. After eight years of looking at Gigposters.com, I finally have ALL of my poster work up on there. It’s a great way to generate exposure and get my work out some more. I also have my new website up and an extensive volume of imagery on my Flickr.com account. It can be a bit odd to put one’s self out there in such a reservoir fashion, but I do like the idea of the timeline and personal file cabinet. And if my house burns down, it’s all digitized and makes it easier on my friends when they have to move me. So, day jobs…they are both blah and bling in my mind. My sling shots just point back at me on certain days. Sometimes they change direction with every sentence. At least I’m now under a thousand dollars on my student loans. I don’t make a thousand dollars in most years on design. 10) Tell me a story – have you had any strange poster requests? A project where you just about lost it? A poster that succeeded beyond expectations or failed in a way that took you totally by surprise? A project-situation-chaos that always sticks out when I’m asked a question like this happened to me back in June of 2002. It’s not a poster, but it’s pretty whacky and ended up being one of the best things that I think I’ll ever make. It was a special run of 250 homemade CD packages for the band Elevator Division. I’ve had many projects that demand more production time than my little brain imagines, but this one was the worst. Actually, the finished piece is a lot tamer than my initial idea. Though, the final image’s concept married to what the band was communicating on the disc inside is way better. The following true story I’ve released for a previous interview, I just tweaked a few glitches… The idea came at the night I started printing. Well, actually it was spray paint. I had an image made for a month or more and then changed it at the last stroke of inspiration. It married the themes for the album “Whatever Makes You Happy” perfectly. With reflections of war and relationships in the songs, I made an image of a hand shooting off its index finger like a missile. It was the idea of shooting off one’s options and making decisions. It was aggressive, inviting, serious and humorous all in one. It was not only fitting for the band/music but also to the national/world agenda and climate. I went to war that night with many cans of spray paint and the idiot mind to do two-hundred and fifty all in one massive sweep, and in my basement, which is something I will never do again because I could have died. I will probably also never be involved with another package like this again (take that back, I have been). Anyway, each one was hand-cut from cardboard and handmade stencil sprayed and rubber stamped. Inserts were cut, folded and glued. At the last mist of red spray a crack of thunder shook the massive turn-of-the-century home and I bolted from the basement and out the front door to a down poor fit for Noah himself. I was like a much less cool version of Dr. Frankenstein though. I leapt off the front porch and slid head first down the embankment and into the street turned river current. But, like a taxidermy nightmare, I was born again. The drug dealing squatters across the street were on their front step perch per usual summer evening, looking at the fire in my eyes and the red paint streaming from ears, nose and mouth. It was a high much higher than that of chemical substance. Well, maybe a three pack of design, life and paint fumes. 11) What is it about the poster as an art form that you feel is unique among other art forms? What purpose does it serve in your mind that can’t be served by another type of visual art? I’ve hinted at this in a previous question. I like the idea of the poster’s life-span being short, relative to the date and time…event, whatever. But, if it connects in the right way, and it can be different for everyone as art-design-whatever, is all relative to the viewer, I think that even a concert poster’s impact can last a long time. Since my first year in Kansas City I’ve had people find me out and say that they had a bedroom wall filled up ​with​ my work. It really moved me that something so simple (and sometimes stupid) that I squeezed out caused somebody else to be moved enough to hang it above their dreams at night. It means a lot to me when others get something out of something I’ve made. I know from child to adult, I myself have gotten something out of the stuff I’ve collected and tacked to my walls. It’s odd, yet a really nice feeling to know I’m somehow contributing to a landscape in some way. Making things is an act that I’ve always needed to do and has helped me get the best out of many days. I’ve always had difficulty with contributing in many forms of communication and on some days it’s terribl​y​ hard even just to be out and about. Making things has served as my calling with communication. It’s nice to know it can help others too in whatever way. -djg

[gaycrouton]

Just Like Old Times

xSo this is my entry to the @xfilesfanficexchange I just wanted to post it here too!

Dedicated to the always lovely DeeDee for the 2019 X-Files Episode Exchange!

MASSIVE thank you to my love @admiralty-xfd who beta'd for me through my procrastination and the amazing @suilven19 for being a boo and helping me aswell! You guys are the best!

XXXXXXXXXXX

"Mulder, what are you doing with my poster?"

For years she had stared at that poster. The blue sky, the trees, the spaceship, but most importantly, the words "I WANT TO BELIEVE" written at the bottom. The poster had changed more times than she could even remember, but they had all had the same impact on her - they instilled a little mantra in her head. Sometimes a silly pep talk when she felt like her fingers would fall off before she finished a case report, sometimes acting as a proverb of acceptance when Mulder pissed her off.

She wanted to believe, and as much as Mulder was considered the believer, she felt an intimate connection to those four words because they encompassed all she'd been doing for the past three years. She wanted to believe in the science she'd dedicated her life to, she wanted to believe in their work, she wanted to believe in him most of all. The last one seemed to take the most precedence for her; she noticed that several years into their partnership when her gaze mindlessly would flit from the white block letters to the man sitting a foot away.

She wanted to believe they'd work out.

Sometimes when she'd laid next to him in bed that fateful year when his depression had consumed him and she couldn't reach him anymore, she had thought back to that two by three foot poster, the newest incarnation a floor below her in his home office, completely covered up by clippings of his newest fixations: I want to believe he'll get better, I want to believe I'll see my Mulder again, I want to believe I can stay by his side, I want to believe leaving him will be the push he needs to get better, I want to believe it won't break him.

It hadn't. She'd seen him off and on again over the past four years they'd been separated, magnets couldn't help but be drawn together after all, and he slowly but surely had gotten better.

But up until a few weeks ago, she hadn't been to their - his, she kept doing that. She hadn't been to his house since she'd walked over the threshold and turned herself from a resident into a visitor.

Then, like the last four years hadn't happened, she was back, pleading with him to get out of his never ending cycle. "You want to believe. You so badly want to believe."

She'd gone through as many physical metamorphoses as the poster, and no matter what she looked like, her message still was branded across her heart, as it always was with Mulder. I want to believe. It was the sole reason she'd sat on that couch, the same one they'd spent countless hours on making lo- stop. She kept doing that, too. Thinking about things she most definitely shouldn't.

It was the same reason she was sitting and listening to him ramble like a madman, his audience consisting of herself, the person who sparked the fire, and the one prodding the ashes to keep it aflame. Yet both of the latter, along with Mulder, kept touching base with her to see if she was believing him, because -for some reason- her believing him seemed to act as a benediction against any traces of insanity lingering in his tone.

She was listening, she was, but her attention was partly caught by the familiar spaceship against the blue backdrop that was peeking behind his shoulder. He'd cleared it off. He'd moved it. Now that she was really looking - it wasn't as wrinkled as it was when she'd last seen it. So did he get a new one?

In that moment, as ridiculous as it was, she was hurt. Was the message on this poster as replaceable as the way he treated it? Every few years, a new poster; every few years a new theory he was dedicating his life to.

All while she sat there idly and tried her hardest to believe, year after year, theory after theory.

So she decided to put her foot down. And she did...but if there was one thing she would always believe, it was her science. And her science was telling her Mulder was right, her science was telling her that she needed to help him.

Maybe that's what their cycle of shared beliefs amounted to - not mindless searching and dutiful following, but a symbiotic partnership that was necessary to find the truth.

They both liked it that way.

It was probably her renewed sense of mission, her excitement at going back to their roots, that caused her stomach to flop when she walked into the basement office for the first time in fourteen years. Her key, which she'd never taken off her keyring along with the keys to their old apartments, still managed to unlock the door and the first thing she saw was the poster she'd spent so much time looking at torn in two on the ground. The ship was the part ripped away, as if it left when they did.

But they were here. They had work to do.

She picked up the two sections of the poster and laid them on the barren desk and ran her hands over the glossy finish. It was identical to the one at their - dammit. It was identical to the one at Mulder's house. She remembered when they'd moved to Farr's Corner back when they'd finally stopped running. She remembered they'd told only a few people where they were, only those who they had deemed safe and who they'd wanted to know. Maggie Scully, Skinner, Monica, and Doggett.

A few weeks after they'd finished unpacking the house and their few belongings, they'd got a tube of cardboard in the mail with the familiar poster and a note that had simply said:

I had a feeling you guys might want this. Welcome back.

Happy housewarming.

-JD

Acting with the same precision she used during surgery, she found a roll of tape in the desk and began aligning the Poster's edges so she could take them together.

To be honest she hadn't been expecting to see a poster in the office because of John's kindness, but now that she thought about it, she remembered snagging one after her trip to Maine, following Mulder's directions to a little headshop on M street she could smell from a mile away. But she ended up never sending it out instead, just letting it sit untouched in their impromptu storage room.

She taped one side and then the other, securing the pieces together to the best of her ability while Mulder strolled in. "Hey, where'd that come from?" he asked.

"This is mine," she smiled at him, holding up the poster and inspecting her work.

"I'm sorry, I ripped it," he apologized, rubbing his hand across the back of his neck.

"You ripped it?" she repeated curiously, moving to the spot it was destined to go.

"Yeah. I was down here a few weeks ago and I just felt like no one was listening to me and I was frustrated," he explained.

She nodded, regretful that she might have contributed to his feelings of isolation, and held the poster up to the wall. "It's okay. Just help me put it up," she smiled. He did as told, grabbing some thumbtacks from the drawer and walking over to her to put them in each corner.

When it was secured, they both took a step back and admired their work. "Order's been restored," Mulder beamed, and she knew he wasn't talking just about the poster. Deciding to simply nod in agreement, she sat in her chair and went to work, appreciative when he followed suit.

It was almost like once it was up, they were thrown back to the nineties, minus the dial up and the shoulder pads. They fell into a comfortable ease and she had to bite back a smile when he, almost out of muscle memory, threw a pencil at the wall like he always used to do. He immediately recognized what he'd done and turned to her with a look of absolute guilt. "Shit, Scully. I'm so sorry."

He expected a reprimand, but instead he got an eyeroll he probably hadn't seen in years along with an amused, "Some things never change."

She looked up at him and caught him smiling at her. "No, they really don't."

But some things were changing, and it was those subtle things that made all the difference. The last time she'd really spent with him, he'd rant and rave, going on and on about things that had no evidence, which was unlike the Mulder she used to know, the Mulder she used to spar and debate with. But now she was by his side and he was pointing to a screen he'd obscured from the janitorial staff at the company for Nugenics Technology. A brilliant move she was impressed with. He was excited about proving this to her and as her gaze flickered above the monitor to the image underneath the pencils, she realized she didn't have to want right now. She believed in him.

And now, for the ultimate test. From the desk of good ol' Walter Skinner, they had a case and it had a monster in it. She just hoped things would be different this time. No, she knew they'd be different this time. And it would all start with her being the one to introduce the case. To be honest, the idea thrilled her and she had to try and calm the skip in her step as she made her way to the office.

Opening the door she was met with the familiar sight of Mulder hurling a pencil at the poster, hitting it dead on. She looked at the white text and held onto the X-file in her hand. She wanted to believe this was going to be fun.

XXXXXXXXX

"Mulder, have you been taking your meds?"

It was something about the question that reminded him of a conversation they'd had two years ago.

He'd pressed 'call' on her contact information seventeen times today since he'd got out of his doctor's appointment. He'd hung up sixteen times, and on the third ring he was going to make it seventeen when he was interrupted.

"Mulder?" a hesitant voice called out from the receiver. He hadn't heard her voice in a few months and just the sound made his heart ache.

"Hey, Scully," he replied nervously, playing with the cap of an orange pill bottle, listening to the gentle 'pop' sound it made when it came off followed by the 'snap' when his thumb pressed it back down.

"What's wrong?" she asked. He felt guilty at how happy it made him that she still worried about him, almost as guilty as he felt that she had to, but not nearly as guilty as he felt that she assumed something had to be wrong for him to call. But he'd set the precedent on that one.

"N-nothing," he swallowed nervously.

"Then why-"

He interrupted her before the end of a sentence had a chance to hurt his feelings. "I have a therapist now. I-I've been going for the past month." He wished he could stop stuttering. He had her attention and he didn't want to ruin it.

There was a slight pause and he felt his stomach start to churn until he heard. "Really?" She sounded pleased with him. Surprised even.

"Yeah. I like him a lot. He's been really helpful." Tone it back, Mulder. He just figured that sounded better than the fact it took him a long time to really open up; paranoia's hard to shake.

"Did he prescribe anything?" she asked. He'd just opened his mouth to respond when she immediately followed with. "I-I'm sorry, that's none of my business."

I want it to be. "No, no. You're fine. You, uh, you sent me the referral anyway so, I really have you to thank." I wouldn't have gone if you hadn't left. The words were unspoken, but were implicit to both of them. "Yeah, um, they gave me Zoloft," he responded, reading the name off the label. Take once a day with food.

"For your depression and anxiety?" she asked, diagnoses she'd been aware of far before they came out of his therapist's mouth. He could hear her hair rustling against the phone and he knew she was nodding.

"Yeah, he said it could help with obsessive tendencies too," he informed her, knowing she'd want to hear that.

"How do you feel?" She'd taken a similar medication for depression about a decade ago. She'd recognized how she was feeling and proactively tried to better herself. She had always been smarter than him.

It also meant she understood it took some time getting used to. That's why it had actually taken so long for him to be able to call. For a while he'd try, his head would get too fuzzy, and he'd quit. He didn't want to call Scully until he was definitely better and he didn't want to call and then break his promise, because she had no reason to believe him. Scully, as always, needed evidence. But God, those first few months had been hard. "I hated it at first… I felt fuzzy a lot." He could hear the similar rustling that signaled her agreement. "But after a while I could tell it was working. I feel...better. Clearer," he told her honestly.

"I'm glad you stuck with it. I know how much you don't like medicine," she explained. Her referencing her deep knowledge of him brought a smile to his face.

"Me, too," he replied, closing his mouth when he realized his happiness was audible. There was a silent tension on the phone now that they had nothing to say. He had called to say he was getting help. He said it. She heard it. That was that. There would be no "want to come over" and that "how are you" would be met with brevity that turned into frustration when he inevitably pried too hard. He'd been met with a dial tone enough times over the past two years to know that was the likely outcome.

"I'm very happy for you, Mulder. I'm glad to hear you're doing good for yourself," she replied, and he wished more than anything that the slight implication that it didn't or shouldn't affect her wasn't there.

But now two more years had passed and they were together again. There was still a shyness, but they were both finding footing in this new terrain. If he had any questions about if they were moving forward, it was answered as she softly asked "Mulder, have you been taking your meds?"

She was teasing him, but she knew the underlying question was 'are you sure this is you renouncing your old ways or falling privy to them?'. They were having fun being together, but he understood that she felt like him having the X-files was akin to an alcoholic being in a bar. But he was better now.

His words were true, he did view the work in a new, wiser light. But he'd be lying if he said half the inspiration of his speech wasn't to let her know he recognized there was more to life than work.

"Mulder, I married you so I could spend the rest of my life with you because I love you! You promised me, you promised me you would let the darkness go. That you would try. I feel like I've lost you and I don't know how to get you back. Mulder, look at me!" She'd screamed at him, her voice cracking during the last sentence. Screamed. He couldn't remember if she'd ever done that before. He was trying to put together her words when he heard her grab her keys and slam the door. How long had she been trying to get his attention?

He didn't need another mothman, another walla walla blah blah blah; honestly looking at the files just reminded him of how naive he had been. How he had chased the lies while his truth had run beside him in his blindspot. But he had Scully now, and she was front and center to him. He could tell she was biting back a smile at his speech, and the sight was a blessed gift.

He pulled the pencils out of the tattered poster slowly, little marks of various introspections marring the blue sky like a map of all the times he'd hoped for answers. He'd always be curious about the unknown, it was in his blood, but he didn't want to lose her.

"We've been given another case, Mulder. It has a monster in it," she told him, a hint of excitement lacing her tone.

He tried to bite back his shared feelings and threw one singular pencil onto the poster.

Well...if it was given to them, who was he to say no?

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

"Mulder!"

It was a sound that, unfortunately, was not all that unfamiliar to her ears after all these years. Mulder was screaming. While she'd been pleasantly enjoying the nostalgia of being on a monster hunting case with Mulder, this uncomfortable combination of dread, fear, and adrenaline was something she could definitely do without. Within a second of hearing it, she didn't care about the body in front of her. All she cared about was getting to Mulder.

As soon as she rounded the corner and saw him on the ground, his name ripped from her throat and she was rushing towards him. No, no, no, I just got you back. Images of the other man's gouged out neck flashed in her mind and she immediately bent down, calling his name again, as her hand touched his intact neck. Thank God.

His eyes opened this time, but her relief at that was mixed with worry as she saw blood. "No, I'm okay," he rasped, looking around dazed and confused.

"You've got blood on you," she told him, touching him as much as she could to assess his condition.

"I don't think it's mine," he replied, closing one eye experimentally.

She heard a rustling sound behind them and she pivoted so that she was covering him a little more like a mama bear defending her cub. But, luckily, it was just the animal control guy who seemed to be as hapless as he was harmless.

Not seeing a threat in the unlucky man, she turned back to Mulder and did another check over on him, making sure he was truly okay.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

"If you squint it looks like...something"

Did he realize he was forgetting what personal space meant? Of course not. If his shoving evidence in front of her face wasn't clue enough he was in his enthusiastic-Mulder routine, the fact he seemed to disregard how close he was getting to her was evidence enough. He always had a knack for standing as humanly close as he could get away with. In the beginning it had flustered her, then it had frustrated her, then it had turned her on - it was a dart board for which it would make her feel like. Ultimately, she loved it and she missed it, but she couldn't let him know that.

Even though she was circling around the dead body like they were dancing, she felt her body reacting to the familiarity of it all. Even his aftershave made her insides melt. Correction, she remembers how it used to make her insides melt, emphasis on used. But she thinks what was affecting her most of all was his excitement.

She had to try and reign in how much she loved this though. They weren't together and she couldn't tease him by letting him think they were closer than she thought either of them were ready for. But it was hard; it wasn't like she could revert back to this moment or that moment of their partnership and just go on. Every moment they'd spent together had led up to their intimate partnership. It was hard being on new ground and trying to understand how to navigate the foreign terrain.

Especially when they were bantering like this.

Oh, how she'd missed this.

His eagerness, his theories being refuted by her science. This was what she'd wanted all those years ago when he couldn't stop spiraling downwards. Just as much as she could tell he was having fun, she knew he could see the same in her.

"You're really enjoying yourself, aren't you, Scully?"

I'm enjoying you, Mulder.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Sleeping Beauty

It was amazing how merely the sight of Scully immediately calmed him. Of course, he still didn't like the implications of this situation - that someone had been using this intricate peeping tom labyrinth to violate their, specifically her, privacy. And it especially didn't bode well with him that someone else had got to see Scully like this when it'd been four years since he'd had the opportunity, not counting all the dreams and late-night longings.

He'd always loved watching her sleep. It was one of his favorite pastimes, even before they'd gotten together. After, it just became a more frequent luxury.

"Do you always watch me sleep?" she'd asked a few weeks after they started having sex regularly.

"Always," he reassured, drinking in the sight of her bare body illuminated by the morning sun. Even the dust motes were dancing in praise above her nudity.

"Has anyone ever told you how proper you sleep?" he asked, raising a hand to trail his fingers idly over the curvatures of her arm muscles.

"Proper?" she repeated, laughing as her voice cracked from hours of not being used.

"Yeah, you sleep like this," he explained, before rolling on his back and clasping his hands together gently, trying to imitate the look of angelic peace that she wore so effortlessly.

His imitation broke as he smiled at the full throated laugh that escaped her lips. "I do not!"

He laughed with her and rolled over so that his body was on top of hers, looking down at her beaming face. "Yes you do, Madame Scully. You sleep like an angel and I love it." She hadn't had a chance to answer as his lips covered hers and he continued to show her just how much he loved it.

Years later and here she was… laying on her back while clasping her wrists in her lap and tucking her legs.

And here he was… unable to conceal his smile or adoration.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

The shirt

He'd been so distracted by seeing her sleep that he hadn't noticed what she was wearing.

He'd always wondered where he'd put that shirt.

He knocked on the door, ready to tell her what he'd seen, but his breath was momentarily taken away when she opened the door to reveal a messy haired, sleepy Scully wearing his shirt.

"How do I look?" she'd asked, twirling around like she was in a fashion show, the hem of his Knicks jersey temporarily shifting up enough to reveal her creamy upper thighs.

She'd worn his clothes temporarily, usually to have something to keep her warm when she'd shuffled to the kitchen in the night to get them a post-sex snack. But now they'd just gotten home - or, they'd just gotten to her apartment. The pizza was on the way and she was wearing this just because she wanted to.

He pulled her to him and kissed her deeply, breaking it only to murmur, "I never thought anything was sexier than you in scrubs, but I think I have a new favorite."

Soon enough, the matching silk pyjama sets were replaced with his shirts. Sometimes she would put on whatever he'd just taken off, with only the explanation of, "They smell like you. It feels like I'm wrapped in your embrace. It's comforting."

He used to think it was cute, but unnecessary since he'd always be there in the flesh, ready to embrace at any given moment. But now knowing that she was possibly, at least at this moment, wearing his shirt after the separation made his heart skip a beat at the implications.

"It's comforting."

His gaze must've lingered too long because she looked down and realized what had captured his attention. "Wh-what do you need?" she asked shyly, crossing her hands in front of her chest as if to hide the subtle intimacy she'd accidentally revealed to him.

All it did was emphasize to him the fact she was braless under his shirt, but he didn't want to make her uncomfortable so he instead focused on the task at hand. "The motel manager saw our monster, Scully."

Our monster. His, hers, theirs, even now it all blended together.

Her eyebrows shot up as did the corners of her lips while she stepped aside and opened the door wider, beckoning him in.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

"This is how I like my Mulder."

The words escaped her lips and she couldn't hide her smile.

This was the Mulder she'd spent years missing. He was excited, and despite the obscurity of his claims right now, he was backing them up, and he was confident.

She saw his eyes widen at the word 'my' preceding his name, but he still was trying to play it cool. God, he really was trying to be on his best behaviour for her. She saw the hunger and intrigue in his eyes when he came in and noticed she was wearing his shirt. Part of her was embarrassed that he now knew she still did it, especially since he knew she did it in an attempt to feel closer to him, but the other part liked the fact he knew.

But not as much as she liked seeing him prance around her, prattling on about his confidence that it was no longer a creature, oh no, but a monster. Just how he liked his cryptids.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

"That...did not happen."

This man...was not sane.

"And then this beautiful woman with red hair strutted in."

He knew he was referring to Scully immediately, but he seemed to have an...alternative...telling of the events.

"I greeted her, thinking she wanted to buy a phone, but she was in the market for something else if ya know what I mean," Guy smirked, imitating charm he'd undoubtedly seen on TV, but not quite having the bravado to pull it off himself.

Mulder knew his confusion registered on his face, not quite understanding what he meant, so Guy elaborated. "She wanted to procreate, like they do in the porn" Guy explained with a proud smirk.

There was too much wrong with that sentence for Mulder to be able to hold in his bewilderment. "I'm not following."

Guy nodded his head as if he expected that answer, as if he could sense the lack of sex appeal in Mulder that he himself apparently reveled in. He shrugged and leaned against the tombstone temporarily. "I guess she could smell my pheromones from outside the store; I could smell hers as soon as she came in." Mulder internally cringed at the man's oddly textbookish recitation of human interaction, but encouraged him to go on nonetheless.

"She said she thought her phone was broken because guys weren't sending her pictures of their junk on it. Now, I'd heard how annoying junk mail is, but this woman seemed to really want it. So I told her she could cancel her pop-up blocker, whatever that is, but she told me to follow her and I learned she was talking about a different type of 'junk'," at his last words he pointed to his crotch with a smile, attempting to enlighten Mulder about this strange woman's unusual vocabulary.

Out of every single thing Guy had told him in the past ten minutes, this was the most unbelievable. "What?" he deadpanned, not even trying to hide his skepticism.

"We went into the storage room and started mating. She was like a wild woman. It was like we were animals going at it as she moaned and groaned. And she just kept whimpering, 'Don't stop! Don't stop! Don't-"

As he explained this, he crudely reenacted this fantasy by thrusting his hips into an imaginary Scully. Mulder gritted his teeth in unbridled irritation. Scully had always teased him for being possessive, and apparently it hadn't faded. "Stop," he commanded, halting the man's motions before adding, "That… did not happen."

"He said I did what?" Scully exclaimed, gawking at him.

Mulder laughed and put up his hands in surrender. "I'm just telling you what he told me."

She pouted a little and looked at her lap, her fingers twiddling nervously. He was shocked at her change in demeanour, but even more surprised at her dejected words, "He said he wouldn't tell anyone…"

For a flash second his stomach pitted out before he realized the improbability of her statement and caught the way she was biting back a smile. He nudged her lightly and laughed, "Liar."

She pursed her lips into a line, amusement dancing in her eyes as she looked at him in mock earnesty. "No, I'm not," she balked, pausing to swallow a laugh. "As soon as he shucked off that maroon vest and screamed 'I quit' I felt my loins quiver."

"Your loins," he repeated with a laugh.

"Oh definitely, and when he ran around the room like the Tasmanian Devil, destroying everything in his wake, I just couldn't help myself," she nodded.

"You had to drag him to the back room and take a picture of his junk?" he teased, enjoying this flirty banter he'd been missing so badly - enjoying being able to talk about sex in front of Scully in any capacity.

"What can I say? I needed it," she joked.

"Mulder, I need it," she whispered into his mouth as she pinned him up against the alley wall. He looked down and noticed it was a dead end and turned to her with a mischievous gleam in his eye.

"You said this was a shortcut," he huskily replied, helping her hike the hem of her dress up over her hips.

"I lied," she purred as she unzipped him and pulled his already hard cock out of his pants, stroking him eagerly while he slid a finger under the fabric of her thong.

"When you need it you need it," he murmured, thinking back fondly at the memory.

Her ears reddened as she realized he was referencing her penchant for impromptu sex in unconventional places. Then, much to his happiness, instead of reprimanding him for being inappropriate, she rolled her eyes and slapped his arm with a smile.

"Shut up, Mulder."

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

"Hey, buddy. You wanna come home with me?"

She'd meant it when she was on the phone. She missed having a dog to love - though she recognized that longing would be satisfied more by a six foot puppy-eyed man she knew than an actual dog, but anything to come home to now would be nice.

To say she'd been surprised when he'd ultimately left her, after she solved the case no less, in favor of looking into his horny lizard man, would be a lie. She couldn't be mad though, he was finally getting life back into him, he was healthy, he seemed happy, and at the end of the day that's all she could ask for.

But…

She looked around and didn't see any other staff lingering around the shelter. Surely this little guy would have a better home with her…

Maybe in the future she'd have someone else to come home to, but everything has to start somewhere.

"Let's go cutie," she whispered, letting her fingers tickle his brown hair.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Mulder and Scully Meet Daggoo

"Scully," he stated slowly.

"Yes, Mulder," she replied with mock innocence.

"What is that?" he asked, pointing to the ball of fur sitting on her bed.

"Um...my new dog," she explained.

"Since when did you get a dog?" he questioned.

"Since you abandoned me at the dog pound."

I leave and I'm replaced by a dog. Okay.

"So what was it you were going to tell me? How did it end up going with your lizard-man?" she asked sweetly.

Not used to her uncharacteristic enthusiasm, he decided to put off any more questions about the dog for later and fill her in. He sat on a chair facing the bed, ignoring the dog sniffing every inch of his leg, as Scully gave him her rapt attention. At first he thought she was just curious, but then it just became a little too interested to be normal - she wasn't even giving him her usual eye rolls or critical comments. When she finally did speak up, it was at a part he thought was irrelevant. "But when he got back, Daggoo was gone. The maid-"

"Daggoo?" she repeated, ignoring the dog's now incessant attention and barking.

"Yeah, that's what he named the dog, Daggoo," he said, the dog barking like an exclamation point on the sentence. "Why?"

"Daggoo's the name of a harpooner in Moby Dick!" She smiled at him, petting the dog on the head.

"Yeah, he said Daggoo-hey! Is he okay?" Mulder asked, pointing to the dog who was jumping at his legs.

"I think so, he hasn't really acted this way before," she replied, scooting off the bed.

"What's he-," Mulder stopped, realizing something.

Scully sent him a questioning look as she leaned next to the dog. "What?"

Without a word, he got up and crossed to the other side of the room. When he was as far away as possible, he looked at the dog licking Scully. "Daggoo," he declared sternly.

Without Further prompting, the dog ran to him and sat at his feet, looking up at him before barking once. A smile spread across his face as he looked over at a surprised Scully. "I think you found Guy's dog."

A look of sadness flitted across her face and she stood up, "Does that mean I have to give him back?"

Happy that he had news that would make her smile, he quickly assured her, "No, no, long story short, Guy went into hibernation in the woods. He won't be back for a long time."

"Oh," Scully laughed, "Um, well. Good."

He watched as she bent down and picked up the little mutt, barely big enough to really count as a dog in Mulder's opinion. "Do you have stuff to take care of a dog?" he asked.

Suddenly, an expression of nervousness took over her face. "Well...actually. I wanted to ask you a favor..."

In that moment, her previous indulgence of him made absolute sense. She was trying to butter him up. "I don't know, Scully," he began, his resolve weakening when he saw her lip pout.

"Please Mulder! I called my apartment when I got here and they said no, but I'd already fallen in love with him. We can't let him lose two owners in one week, that's cruel."

"I don't have any stuff to keep the dog at the house," he explained.

"I'd get it!" she offered immediately. "And I promise I'll come over everyday and take care of him and walk him and clean up after him," she was rambling like a child who had brought home a stray and it made him smile - usually it was him who had do do all the convincing. He let her go on a little, not letting onto the fact he'd already agreed when she said she'd come over everyday.

"If you do all that, then yes. I'll take him," he replied.

"Thank you, Mulder," she beamed.

Anything to get her home.

[starcoanonymous]

My Story with Starco and my Letter of Goodbye

Hi, not sure if anyone reading this will know me but I’m Starcoanonymous. I’m a giant fan of Star vs. the Forces of Evil and Starco and have been in the fandom since I discovered it since the first four episodes were released. I grew this blog and wrote a ton on fanfiction.net as FanfictionForDayz in the hopes that one day, this ship would become canon. Looking at myself right now, it’s really strange how this is the only shipping pair I would truly care for and how obsessed I was by it. I don’t care though. It changed my life for the better. Today, I have finished watching all the episodes of Season 4 that I have missed due to college. Now that Starco is canon, it is time for me to say goodbye. This is more for me to remember the good times in the show but if you would like, feel free to tag along for the awesome ride.

Backstory:

Where to start? To begin with, I’m not much of a fandom guy. I did love to watch cartoons but I would never be a real ‘fan’ of the show. That’s as true now as it was then. The only show I was really ever going to be a fan of is this one.

However, the shows that I did like always had unfinished ships. For example, in Pokemon, everytime I wanted Ash and the girl to be together, they wouldn’t. In Yu-Gi-Oh, the main protagonist would never get with the girl. I hated it when that happened. I wasn’t fully aware at the time what ships were and how much I really hated to see that type of thing. Also to mention, I did not like those drama filled, complicated love stories like seen in Twilight and other media back then.

Around 2015 is when I found SVTFOE. I was a sophomore in high school and things were just tough. I wasn’t being bullied or anything, I just was not enjoying high school very much. Now I know I said I’m not much of a fandom guy, but around that time I was also reading the Percy Jackson and the Olympians series and reading a TON of fanfiction about it. I loved Percy and Annabeth being together but there really was no visual representation to latch on to (the movie did not do that series justice). It was really around then I discovered that I loved to see the characters I loved get together.

Season 1:

The TV in the living room was on and by happenstance, it was turned to Disney Channel. I think it was turned to “School Spirit” and something about the show, irked me. The art style, the personalities, I have no idea but as SOON as I saw Star and Macro on the same screen, I absolutely needed to know who they were and what this show was. So, I decided to give this show a try. Dear lord, you cannot imagine what happens next.

At this point in time, the first four episodes were out and the fifth was about to be released in the upcoming week. I watched the first four episodes and I have never been the same since.

There was something refreshing about this show. Something dare I say, magical, about how they structured the first few episodes. I really for the life of me cannot tell you what that meant, but I can tell you that every single night I rewatched those four episodes OVER and OVER again. I am not joking when I tell you that I probably have watched those four episodes combined at least 50 times. After doing research, I came across two very, specific pictures/gifs created by tumblr user @skleero​ which sealed my fate.

I still have no idea what about this made me go absolutely insane for this show but I do know what made me fall in love with it. The first is the art style. This show’s art style is FANTASTIC. I absolutely love the art style and I praise Nefcy for that in my mind every day. Second, there were no real hints about shipping given out at all. Taking a look at the first four episodes, I didn’t know where this show would take it. I found out however, that I loved not knowing. I hated the idea of not seeing this ship come to life but I loved the possibility that that was the case. I consider this, “shipping masochism.” After all, the goal is worth more if it is hard to achieve.

I was obsessed. Maybe you don’t realize yet how obsessed I was. I literally paused and played each of those four episodes until I examined every single scene where Star and Marco was nearly in contact with each other. Yes, it sounds like an unhealthy obsession but looking at myself today, it truly did me good. It brought me so much joy to watch this show I only have good memories of that time.

Episode 5 comes around and I enjoy it as much as the previous episodes. However, I find out that there is a two month long hiatus until the next episode, “Mewberty/Pixtopia.” To cope with this, I look for other ways to satisfy my needs. I research everything I can about Starco, I scrolled through google images to look for more fan art of it, I even played the game that Disney came out with on their website to promote it. I don’t exactly remember what it was called but I got a tip off saying that Ludo called Marco Star’s boyfriend and that was all it took to get me to play through the whole game and screen shot that exact moment (they later removed that line, sneaky people).

Around then is when I started to read fanfiction for the show. I loved the endless possibilities. I loved not knowing where this ship would go. So, I read every fanfction. Yes, EVERY fanfiction. I first went through fanfiction.net and read EVERY. SINGLE. AVAILABLE. FAN FICTION (about Starco). I became upset that there wasn’t anymore as there were only about 20ish pages of fanfiction stories at the time. So, I went on Archive of Our Own and read every single one there (about Starco). Then, since I still was not satisfied, I read every single fanfiction in the most obscure websites, and saved the text on my Notes app on my IPhone (which I still have. I love these stories).

At this point, I still did not have enough content. I needed more. I found out about tumblr and looked through the Starco tag, but I needed more. So, I got the idea that, instead of looking for content, why don’t I just make it? So, I started up a blog here where I would repost a ton of things and make a few funny edits a long the way and created an account of fanfiction.net where I would write a ton of my own fanfictions on my account FanfictionForDayz.

And so I went, spending all my time enjoying writing fanfiction, watching SVTFOE, watching every scene for every single touch between Star and Marco, trying to find out who Toffee was, banging my face into my pillow as I witnessed Bloodmoon Ball all up till the end of season 1.

Season 2:

At the end of season 1, I couldn’t imagine not being as obsessed with this show, but well, as time flew and there was no episodes for a whole school year, I started to write less and less fanfiction and read less about SVTFOE. I was growing up a little and didn’t have enough time to wait for that Season 2 to come out.

But when it did come out, I was so pumped. It had been nearly a whole year since season 1 ended and there was nothing about to stop me from watching my favorite show. And so I went, absolutely enjoying the show and enjoying the little hints they were pumping out about Starco, even acknowledging the name of the ship in one of the episodes which made me cry honestly.

Then came the dreaded episode. ‘Bon Bon the Birthday Clown.’ All my worst fears were realized. Starco was not cannon and my headcanon of Star and Marco being each others first kissed went out the window. I truly did enjoy the episode but man did it sting. The first realized ship of this show and it was not the main one. I vented my frustrations with funny clips and simply believed Starco would be end game.

Two videos I uploaded during season 2 &3:

At this point, I truly could not bear to write anymore fanfiction. I really only liked writing headcanons, things that were still possible in the show. I did not want to write anymore headcanons with Jarco still being a thing. So I trudged on cursing (not really) Daron for torturing me.

Near the finale, I went crazy. I could not believe Star was revealed to liking Marco. To me, this was the most forbidden thing that anyone could ever do in this show. Why? My previous experience with non-canon ships made me believe that ships were supposed to be on the down low, not mentioned too much as part of the story. This was different however, and out came my excitement as one step towards Starco finally had been accomplished.

Season 3: 

I’m not going to lie, Season 3 was probably my least favorite. I’m sure you can see why. Right as Jackie and Marco broke up, Tom and Star get together. It was like cruelest fate as a Starco shipper. So close, yet so far.

Not only that, I did not enjoy it as much as season 1 & 2 because it put too much emphasis on the drama and love in my opinion. I liked the scarcity of it because it made it all the more sweeter. I also did not like the drama being the main focus of the story. I preferred it in the way that there was a main plot and the drama was just a side plot. Nevertheless, I enjoyed watching every single episode.

Season 4:

Here I am in college, and for the first time, I told Starco to wait. I love the ship but I needed to get good grades this quarter. So when time came for the final season to come out, I decided to wait. I decided for the first time in a long time to get serious with studies. Starco didn’t take away my time for studying at all, I just decided to hold it off until time came where I could enjoy season 4 to the fullest, by myself just like when I first started watching this show. No fanfictions, no tumblr, no news, just me and the episodes.

I achieved the highest grades I’ve gotten in a long time with a 3.8 GPA this quarter. After that, I was ready to watch season 4.

At first, I paced myself. Two episodes a day. So I could fully enjoy them. Eventually, around episode 14 came around and I gave in to my love of the show and spent the whole day watching the rest of season 4.

Watching the show, seeing all the previous characters come back, and realizing how different the show was from the first episode made me realize, the adventure is coming to a close. I knew it was coming and I knew that there probably wasn’t any chance of season 5 happening because the story was wrapping up so nicely. I just hoped. Hoped for the perfect ending.

Finally, 4 years of patiently waiting. 4 years of driving myself so that I could see Starco become a thing. 4 years. And I finally see it. Not only are they simply smiling at each other, they even kissed; a real kiss unlike the one at the photo booth. They are both single, both are ready, both like each other, and both kissed.

Now, as a mature, college sophomore, who has moved away from the cringe of their teen years, I’m sure you understand that I handled it like a mature, responsible- Who am I kidding, I screamed so loud I’m sure I’ll get noise complaints for my neighbors. I praised the world as I saw my ship become real.

Only, there was one more problem to settle.

I didn’t know what was going to happen. Was Marco going to be sent away? This would be the cruelest fate. The universe itself trying to rip your ship apart. I had to hold my breath. Then came the portal at the end of the final episode. I screamed at Star and Marco to run like their lives DEPENDED on it (mine did). 

Then came a most beautiful ending. Hey. It made me want to cry. My ship was canon. That’s all I needed. There are infinite possibilities from what could’ve happened from that point on but to me, I couldn’t ask for better. I would want to see an epilogue of some sort but I’m fine with even this. The deed is done. Starco is canon. And my job is finished.

Goodbye: 

Dear SVTFOE,

Thank you. I am obsessed with you because you portray something I believe in. Tom said it perfectly: “I need someone I can be best friends with.” My teacher once said that your spouse is your best friend. I believe everyone’s fateful other will be their best friend. I wanted to believe in something that didn’t seem too likely. I wanted to believe that anything is possible, and it did. Even if it wasn’t that unlikely, it happened.

You gave me the strength and energy I needed when I felt down. You gave me a reason to grow. You gave me a reason to grow up. Even though at times I didn’t like where you were going, I found that in the end, I enjoyed you through and through. I wouldn’t change a single thing, because I would not have done better. It is about time to say goodbye. One day I will return the favor. I don’t know how or who to, but watch me. I will definitely do it. I will treasure you forever, and once again, THANK YOU.

Sincerely, Starcoanonymous

[dreamingsushi]

Before we get married - Episode 2

Soooo!  Seems it gets better after a few episodes, so let’s hang on to this one!

The episode starts next morning at Weiwei’s office.  I think Han Kefei needs to see a psy-something, you decide which one is best suited.  She’s disgustingly funny in a way.  Even though it’s so exaggerated, I think that so far I like her the best.  At least what she wants, we know haha! She doesn’t think it’s weird that he handcuffed Weiwei, neither does she thinks that him doing anything to her would be rape.  No no no!  Weiwei is the victim because he didn’t have sex with her.  Thank god you are not my friend girl.  Weiwei dear, I hope you lock your door when you sleep, in case any of the guys Kefei brings back home would try and go to room : she wouldn’t think they did anything wrong.  Well maybe she would, in the sense that they shouldn’t pick you over her.  She’s so sassy though haha!

How cute is this.  Kefei tries to get a date with Kehuan by asking him to teach her about stocks, but actually, it’s his assistant.  And we’ll stop calling him assistant, his name is Yan Baiyang.  Apparently he is pretty much in love with Kefei and asks Kehuan to coach him on how to date.  How cute.  Obviously, Kefei is pissed of when she’s him, but then she bumps into him and her sexual desires awake so they end up in a hotel room.  I’ll take the drama as a caricature from now on, it’s way funnier like that.  The scene is overly acted.  They’re about to woohoo and then he confesses his feelings for her.  Big mistake.  Kehuan absolutely agrees : don’t talk about your feelings, it’s pathetic not romantic, it’s going to scare her away.  I think she’s just wild.  Well, let’s hope for Baiyang Kehuan can fix that.

To Kehuan’s many flaws, let’s add that he is a stalker.  He followed Weiwei to a convenience store.  Well didn’t really follow, but knew she likes going there through a collegue. Tries to pay for her stuff.  Bothers her about her retirement plan with her boyfriend because he deems it’s not like her.  I also think so, but he doesn’t even know her.  Is he a soothsayer of some sorts?  Well, I must say he knows how to piss her off.

Weiwei has to stay at work later that night.  Her boyfriend offers her to take her home how sweet of him, but then a collegue comes in.  So he just leaves and text her see you on Saturday to go visit houses.  It’s always about plans, oh god. That guy...  No wonder she’s bored with you.  And then Kehuan calls her.  She’s already pissed off because she’s doing overtime so she just hangs on him.  I must say though, this guy has really nothing to do.  He keeps on calling her.  Girl, just call the police at some point, this is harassement.

When she’s done, she goes again to the solo KTV machine, listens to the same song.  She is upset by her boyfriend.  Good, be upset, he was not nice to you.  I agree.  Now dump him and get someone else.  He talks to her like she is a child.  I think he doesn’t really like her, he just likes the fact she pays her part and won’t ask for his money.  Then Kehuan comes looking for her.  And this is not important. But the videoclip with the lyrics is not in sync with the music playing.  IT BOTHERED ME. Anyways, not important.  But details are details.  Make the clip fit with the music if it’s KTV.

He blurts out something about not liking to break up on the phone.  You go girl, no need to break up, you are not an item.  Tell him, good bye and stop stalking me.  I loved the line “The song has ended, so did our relationship”.  That was perfect.  Leave and don’t look back.

Okay.  I might start liking this drama.  Kehuan follows out of the cabin and says he’s sorry and wishes her happiness with her boyfriend.  Than he pushes on her forehead : he pressed the delete button!  THAT IS SO CUTE.  First best moment of the drama.  He asks her to do the same, so she does and when he opens up his eyes again, he pretends they don’t know each other.  I don’t dislike him right now.  She definitely thinks he is insane hahaha.

At Kehuan’s office, Ziyuan (that would be his girlfriend) comes and bring desserts for everybody.  Shu Ming asks when she and Kehuan will get married.  You can see on Kehuan’s face that he is so unhappy from seeing her there.  I don’t know why he doesn’t break up with her?  Since the beginning, he looks so annoyed when he sees her.  There’s no way he still has feelings for her.  He is staying with her for some weird reason?

I must talk about the actress here.  That character doesn’t do justice to her.  Nita Lei is so much better than that.  Well in the previous drama I saw with her (Someone like you 听见幸福) she was so good. Or maybe she’s still good but I don’t like the part.  Anyways.

Ziyuan and Kehuan eat together at the restaurant, probably to celebrate his promotion.  I think the best word to describe Ziyuan would be carpet. She’s like begging for Kehuan to step on her.  Stop trying too much please.  Thank you.

OMG.  I kept myself so many times from writting OMG.  But this time.  OMG.  SHE PREPARED THE WHOLE WEDDING WITHOU TELLING HIM.  He’s so pissed at her.  I really don’t get why those two are together, it’s nonsense.  Seriously.  She’s like, are you angry?  Duh he is.  He just tells her : well I wasn’t mentally prepared for this, after all, I never proposed to you.  BAM.  She is so embarrassed.  And she is unable to use a fork.  That’s funny.

Weiwei and her boyfriend (forgot his name) go and see houses.  I totally get Weiwei’s feelings as I am also looking for a house.  Nothing seems to be perfect.  And her boyfriend is so cringy.  The floor is uneven and he still wants it.  They are not going to move out of there any time soon if they buy this.  Why is he so stuck up to buy that one...  So he’s like, well let’s save more money so we can buy a better house.  AND SHE BURSTS.  She tired of saving every penny.  You go girl.  That Kehuan did a good job on you.  Planning your life for the next 60 years is not a good idea.  At least, she realises it’s not her plan, it’s his plan and he says that if they don’t find anything good the next day, they will just rent something together.  Good boy.

Kehuan invited Kefei for lunch.  Naturally she tries to hit on him but it doesn’t work at all : this guy is not for you girl, move on.  You are allergic to eat, go eat somewhere else.  I didn’t really get what happened there, I can’t read that well traditional characters.  But basically, that scene meant nothing.

Weiwei is meeting friends at the restaurant and... one of them is long time no see Ziyuan.  She’s so annoying.  This is twisted omg.  So the two other friends have the time of their life, taking pictures together while completely ignoring Weiwei.  Wow.  This is so rude.  Anyways, Ziyuan insists on letting her boyfriend pay for her, Weiwei says she’s uncomfortable, follows her to the door and... Kehuan’s there. Hahahaha.  So funny.  AND HER BOYFRIEND COMES TO PICK HER ON A SCOOTER! THIS IS PRICELESS.

I’ll call him Scooter Delivery Boy now.

So back home, Ziyuan badmouths Weiwei saying she dresses out of fashion.  And then she’s like “I know you are angry about the wedding, so I though a new environnement would make you more sure about it so I contacted a real estate agent to sell the house and buy a bigger one.”  I just can’t.  What is wrong with that girl...

So the first people to go and visit the house.... Li Haoyi (Scooter Delivery boy) and Weiwei.  And Kehuan that doesn’t know.  And Ziyuan that pretends to like Weiwei.  Ziyuan goes with Li Haoyi to see the building’s society or something like while Weiwei stays alone with Kehuan.  They quarrel a little, he lifts her up to the balcony and threatens to push her down.  There are so many things that so wrong with this drama T_______T  She pushes him to go down, calls him crazy, he says he still has feelings for her and ask her to kiss him.  I want to point out the romantic music in the background.  This is so romantic, yep.  She pushes him away, he pushes her against the bay wind and traps her wrists.  The others come back, they don’t realise anything, Kehuan insists on giving her a lower price, Weiwei will not buy, Scooter delivery boy is upset because he really likes the house.

Now I get it.  Ziyuan’s mom is the reason they are still together.  She’s in total denial.  He wants to break up with her, but she won’t let him and she pretends everything is fine to keep controlling his life.  So basically, she’s deseperate.  I don’t like her.

The episode ends on Kehuan learning that Weiwei and Haoyi works for the same company.

I am still not sure if I enjoy or not this drama.  We will see.  It is definitely getting a little better and I did enjoy myself once or twice.  I still don’t recommend this to a younger public.  There are a lot of cringy things, lots of things that makes me uneasy.  I mean, many of the stuff happening should be treated less lightly.  Like the fact that Weiwei could be attracted to Kehuan, despite every thing he does... It gives a bad image.  I hope it will change with time.  Because right now he is a stalker-almost-rapist and that’s... nope.

[carolrance]

I AM DYING LMAO

i just found the most hilarious reviews for the handmaid’s tale and i’m dying lol. since twop is dead(?) (is it? i dunno cos i never look anymore tbh) this is the next best thing. and it’s doubly awesome cos she hates all the same characters. (mutual nick hate is my life). i have another post in my drafts about how amazing amy glynn’s reviews at paste are. and they are. but they are serious. these ones are snarktastic.

“Welcome back to America’s favorite rape and explosions show, The Handmaid’s Tale.”

“Nick goes out into the rain, full emo cigarette smoking, resigned to boning this virgin, when he spies something. Oh no! It’s Offred, sprawled in the rain, bleeding to death. He picks her up and screams for help. My god. These two. Offred is the world’s worst teenager. And Nick is her bad boy boyfriend. She’s going to robotically obey and then bleed to death in the rain? Get the fuck out of here with that. These two act like they are in a My Chemical Romance music video circa 2005.” (This is my fav one of them all.)

“Speaking of Nick, he’s still the worst! His baby bride comes to Offred for...advice? I don’t know why she comes to her exactly, except maybe it’s like coming to your sluttiest friend and asking a weird sex question? I don’t know.”

“Serena is clearly mad about Offred, and E. Moss is doing a great job as playing her as the bitchiest teenager in the house. Aunt Lydia has moved in to keep her eye on Offred, and she bursts in during Offred’s teenage sulk bath to instruct her to wash. Down there. You know. (vagina). Offred makes more defiant teenage eye contact as she washes. Down there. She’s almost coming on to Lydia. That’s cool, I guess.”

“We cut to the Colonies and some more cockadoodie plot machinations. Because of the mass casualty event, Emily and Janine, among others, are going to be pressed back into service as Handmaids. This is some ripe bullshit. First off, both are disobedient. Secondly, they’ve been in the radioactive Colonies for a hot minute--who knows what that’s done to their baby making machinery? But now the writers can bring back some important characters. COCKADOODIE.”

“Part of the purpose of the walks are so the fetus can hear and get used to Serena’s voice, you see, and Serena wants to talk shit about everyone they know.”

“We get some grade A pen pornography as she lovingly fingers Fred’s pens, and we close on the image of Serena behind the desk and Offred clicking the ballpoint just like Ofglen clicked the detonator. (We also get an insane music cue: “Venus.” You know, from the razor commercials and also the 1960s? Like, what the what the what, show.)”

“She’s worked on her shrine and her newspaper-clipping Crazy Wall ™, where she is reconstructing the events that led to the creation of Gilead. Which is great, but also, bitch, didn’t you watch the fucking news? You lived through this.”

“They load up into a truck, but at the last minute, Offred remembers that she is the worst and this show is supposed to go for ten seasons, so she hops out, gives the baby to Emily, and heads back into the night, to become Jedi June and fight Gilead to rescue her other daughter.”

“Serena stomps into Devil Fred’s mancave while he is enjoying his jazz records and demands that Offred go back to the Red Center. Fred talks her down, telling her that they don’t want to miss the joy of the pregnancy. Which, okay, Fred. You try having a testy teenager in your face all day.”

“I really wanted to punch her during all of this. How golly, and how insensitive, to poke through their sacred objects and get all teary-eyed, especially as they risk their lives to shelter her dumb ass.”

“Serena monologues about her drafts of new security orders. She wants things to get back to normal--she wants to cut back on the police state to normal dystopian police state levels.”

“It seems the Marthas have had enough, and they are taking action. Offred fucks around for about ten minutes because she is the worst, carving Nolite into the bedroom wall.”

“Anyway, Serena is super pissed, violently potting succulents and plotting dark deeds.”

“At some point, Offred takes a pout bath that is red with blood. She also bleeds clear through her underwear. When they get home, the Waterfords welcome Nick’s bride into the household, and then send Offred and Rita away. Rita is worried about Offred, but Offred has decided to bleed to death. Up the stairs she goes.”

“Offred’s presence rouses Fred out of his mini-coma for just long enough for him to remark on her size (just like a real son of a bitch). Offred leaves and makes out with Nick in the hall because they are stupid assholes. I mean, really. There are people and Eyes all over the place and these two are just slobbering all over. Offred also makes the Martha’s shooting all about her in a real self-centered way.”

“Let’s check in on the boring house, shall we? Offred decides to go around and collect godmothers for her baby.”

“Oh I forgot that Nick and Offred cuddled the baby and blah blah and I still hate them. Also, Nick, your baby bride’s blood is on your hands.”

“In the show, though, we’ve seen a lot of natal care, including ultrasounds, and we’ve seen the inside of a hospital room. Why in the fucking hell would they mess around with home birth at all? It’s so illogical it makes me mad.”

“So she goes outside with the shotgun, has another wolf encounter, and blasts off some rounds to alert someone of her presence. Then she goes back inside and takes off all her clothes and shits that kid out.”

“Back at the Waterford manse, Serena and Offred bond, AGAIN, over Eden’s execution and Serena lets Offred breast feed the baby, because she is completely internally inconsistent. On this episode, Serena will be affected by the atrocities of the regime she helped create. ANYWAY, THE END.”

“Eden wants to spruce up the apartment, and Nick gives her permission and plays the husband humoring his little woman’s whims. Which, total and complete barf forever. Nick still doesn’t see Eden as a potential threat, because he is an idiot. While she’s working on her HGTV audition tape, she finds the stack of contraband letters Nick took from Offred when she was going mad.”

“Into the house they run, Serena screaming Offred’s name like she’s going to catch her and probably murder her. I mean, this is full throated scream. If your dog ran away, you wouldn’t scream his name that way because he would be like: that bitch is crazy and wants to kill me. So it unsuprisingly doesn’t work on a human woman.”

“Meanwhile, Nick catches Eden kissing the douchebag Guardian. He’s like no big deal, and Eden freaks out. She says that he’s in love with the Handmaid, and he gaslights the fuck out of her denying it. Nick is a bastard. He shows Eden no kindness. He doesn’t treat her like a person. She doesn’t rate even a decent excuse. There are many things he could say: that she’s so young, that they don’t know each other, that he’s unhappy to be married at all. But he does none of those things. This woman is fifteen years old. She’s spent her adolescence under the yoke of Gilead. While she may be a true believer, she is still not in charge of her fate here. Nick is a bastard.”

“Devil Fred and Offred get in a knock-down, drag out, and he misquotes the bible at her and slaps her across the face. She then slaps him across his face, and is not immediately fucking super murdered.”

“Emily is like what the fuck, this place is weird. Lydia is like, bye! You better be good or we will kill you! Have fun! Anyway, she has a brief conversation with the Wife, who is like: this guy is horrible. He created The Colonies! He poisoned people! Commander Old Hipster gently shuffles her away, back to her crazy room.”

And serious business shit (cos it’s not all jokes):

“What I do think is wrong is the zig-zagging of Serena’s character. She’s mean and petty, and then she’s happy playing writer to Offred’s editor. Then she’s mad again, and then even more mad after that. Raping Offred to punish her for false labor is insane and irredeemable. Devil Fred has been consistently devilish--a prick who enjoys owning women--but Serena has seesawed from one extreme to another. I don’t think it makes her character more complicated or deep. Instead, it seems like inconsistency in the writing.

This show has been saluted as being of the times, for being very current. When I see children being ripped from their parents, or in an earlier episode this season, people desperate to escape to another country, and then I see it echoed in real life, it is hard to take. Dystopias are less entertaining to watch when you live in a country that seems to be accelerating toward the same.”

“Things I liked: Annie Lennox, Commander Old Hipster/his house/his wife/his Martha/his stolen art collection/taste in graphic novels/scarves, Rita and the Marthas rising up. Things I didn’t like: EVERYTHING ELSE

As adaptations go, the second season was always going to be a rough one. I can’t say that it was successful. They’ve turned June/Offred into an asshole, and they made Serena so inconsistent we don’t even know what to expect moment to moment. That’s not good writing, y’all.”

BTW, the site is:

https://heauxsmag.com/new-blog/?tag=handmaids+tale

[mandibierly]

The moment TV's teen revolution truly began

Claire Danes in My So-Called Life, Lennon Stella in Nashville, and Kristy McNichol in Family. (Photo: Everett Collection)

Back in the late ’70s, a full decade before Marshall Herskovitz and his producing partner, Ed Zwick, would change TV by creating thirtysomething, they cut their teeth as writers on the aptly titled ABC drama Family. Created by Jay Presson Allen and exec-produced by Leonard Goldberg, Aaron Spelling, and Mike Nichols, it revolved around the Lawrences, a family from Pasadena, Calif. whose youngest child was Buddy — the character that would launch Kristy McNichol’s career and, inadvertently, help inspire the most influential teen TV series of all time.

When Herskovitz and Zwick tapped Winnie Holzman to create My So-Called Life, an authentic early-’90s drama centered on a teenage girl, Angela Chase (Claire Danes), they wanted to upend the rules they had to once abide by.

“We used to get notes [on Family scripts] from Len Goldberg, and there would be a line and it said on it ‘NOB.’ I remember asking, ‘What does NOB stand for?’ and it meant, ‘Not Our Buddy,'” Herskovitz tells Yahoo Entertainment. “They wanted her to be nice all the time, and they wanted her to be a good girl. I think there was this way in which teens, but especially teenage girls, were still seen as voiceless in the culture. And I think that was the thing that most motivated us when we were doing My So-Called Life, was to say, ‘These are people within our lives who need to be heard.'”

If Herskovitz’s memory is correct, one “NOB” scene had Buddy, who he notes was younger than 15-year-old Angela when the series began, talking back to her mother “too stridently.”

“Which is so funny to me,” he says, “because in My So-Called Life, Angela would scream at her mother. Basically, she wanted to kill her mother. So, certainly, there was a change.”

As part of our Why Teen TV Matters series, we spoke with Herskovitz, who’s now co-showrunner of CMT’s Nashville with Zwick, about the other shifts he’s witnessed in his 40-plus-year TV career.

The beginning

Wilson Cruz as Rickie and Danes in My So-Called Life. (Photos: Everett Collection)

Most people agree that the Teen TV genre didn’t even exist until My So-Called Life. “It’s funny, I used to talk about this with Ed Zwick all the time, that I would get very disturbed watching television as a child, because it in no way resembled what my life looked and felt like, and I couldn’t figure out who was crazy,” Herskovitz says, recalling that he found My Three Sons with Fred MacMurray particularly unnerving. “It’s in the nature of sitcoms to basically portray people as clinically insane: like one week they are completely obsessed with something, they start a business and they get the whole neighborhood involved, and it causes some horrible thing to happen, and the next week that’s completely forgotten and they’re doing something else. Because My Three Sons was mostly about these teenage boys, I found it to be utterly perplexing and disturbing.”

When he, Zwick, and Holzman, who had been a writer on thirtysomething, were brainstorming ideas for a new series, it was Herskovitz who initially suggested doing a drama focused on teens. “I had written a pilot for Showtime in the mid-’80s, when Showtime was just beginning, as a matter of fact, about a 17-year-old boy, and I found myself exploring issues that I had never seen on television before,” he says. “Most shows about teens on television [in the early ’90s, like Beverly Hills, 90210] were very exploitative about sexuality and meant to be titillating rather than inside the experience of what it meant to be an adolescent. What I said to Winnie was, ‘This is something that still interests me, what about you?’ And she said, ‘My God, this is something I think about every day.'”

ABC initially passed on the pilot and then never quite knew what to do with the show, right down to its loud MTV-esque promos. “They completely ignored the fact that the show was so introspective. And we kept telling them, ‘This is a show for grownups. Every grownup was once a teenager. You’re not getting what we have here,” he says. “And they just never believed in the show. In fact, it took two and a half years to do the 19 episodes that we produced. I remember Ed had made an appeal to [then network president] Bob Iger when they were talking about canceling the show, saying, ‘You should keep this show on the air because teenage girls have no voice in our culture and the show is giving them a voice.’ And the irony of that is so incredible now, 25 years later, because teenage girls have such a huge voice in the culture. I mean, look at the Parkland kid [Emma Gonzalez].”

Marjory Stoneman Douglas High School students Emma Gonzalez, left, David Hogg, and Cameron Kasky raising their voices. (Photos: Getty Images, AP)

Like every showrunner who’s participated in our series, he’s been inspired by the Marjory Stoneman Douglas High School students. “I’m not the only person to think these kids are incredible. One of the things that strikes me is that, quite naturally, this group is so heterogeneous — there are boys and girls, and people of different ethnic backgrounds — and I find that so refreshing and lovely to see that it naturally happens that way. And also, how together they are, how much solidarity they have, how generous they are with each other. It’s an extraordinary moment, it really is,” Herskovitz says. “They have this extraordinary moral high ground. I mean, no one should have to be in fear for their life when they go to school. And it’s reaching the point now where every kid in this country is afraid for his or her life. You cannot not listen to these people.”

In 1994, My So-Called Life had an episode, “Guns and Gossip,” that deals with a gun accidentally going off in school — a cautionary tale that Herskovitz still sees as current. Gay student Rickie (Wilson Cruz) is being bullied so badly that he’s OK with people believing he’s the one who brought in the weapon because it might make them think he’s dangerous and scare them off. “It was really a multifaceted story about the pressures kids go through in high school, using this gun as the instigating incident, but really it was never about the gun,” he says. “What touched me most about that episode was the storyline about Brian Krakow, played by Devin Gummersall, who the principal decided he was going to browbeat into getting him to rat on whoever it was brought the gun. So it became a different kind of bullying, where the principal was bullying this kid and tried to intimidate him and scare him, and, finally, at the end, Brian stands up to the principal, and says, ‘You’re harassing me, and if you keep doing it I’m going to sue you.’ It was just a wonderful moment that I just love, where the kid found his voice and stood up to the grownup.”

Herskovitz’s favorite episode of the series is “The Zit,” a particularly poetic one written by Holzman based on Kafka’s Metamorphosis. “It’s about Angela having a zit that’s tormenting her the whole time — that somehow her entire life will be ruined by the fact that she has this huge zit on her chin — and, meanwhile, they’re learning about how, in the Kafka story, this guy wakes up as a cockroach,” he says. “It’s about how each kid’s image of themselves is so negative and tortured, and, also, untrue — and how they are being so done in by what they feel they have to be in order to fit into society. It’s such a remarkable piece of work.”

Jason Katims, the future showrunner of Friday Night Lights, Parenthood, and Rise who got his start in the My So-Called Life writers’ room, has cited the episode as an example of their goal: “to tell as little story as possible.”

“Honestly, we did not write that show in any way differently for teens. In other words, we wrote that show the same way we wrote thirtysomething,” Herskovitz says. “It was about teens, and so we were inside the experience of what it means to be a teenager, which means things are felt more intensely. There’s less context in which to help to get yourself off the ledge when you think something is horrible. But, really, it was the same approach, which is to say, ‘How can we honestly depict how people experience themselves in the world?’ And that’s a hard thing to do. It takes a lot of thought, and a lot of self-exploration, a lot of honesty, and I felt that that’s what Winnie was so brilliant at.”

Back to the future

Marshall and Zwick also created the family drama Once and Again, which ran on ABC from 1999-2002. Browse clips on YouTube, and you’ll be reminded of a storyline where teen Grace (Julia Whelan) grew very close to a teacher, played by Eric Stoltz. When we talked with The Vampire Diaries‘ Julie Plec, who worked on Dawson’s Creek for a time, she said someone might have to think twice today about doing a storyline like Pacey sleeping with his teacher. Herskovitz agrees. “But remember, in Once and Again, it never was fully realized. You understood that he had a crush on her and she had a crush on him, but it wasn’t about, ‘Oh, they’re going to have an affair.’ It was more about the idea that two people who are inappropriate to each other would still have feelings for each other, and I might still be interested in exploring that today,” he says. “I mean, I find the idea of exploring what can’t be, but what you still want is a part of human nature.”

  Human nature is also why he’d concur with Holzman, who told us looking back on MSCL through the prism of the #MeToo movement she has “no regrets” about the use of the bad boy trope — Angela’s crush on Jared Leto’s Jordan Catalano, who didn’t always treat her well. If characters are “neatly shorn of their problems, they’re not really gonna feel like people that you’re actually encountering,” Holzman said — and mistakes are how people learn.

“If there’s one thing we’ve learned, it’s that it’s not necessarily the moment in the culture for men to say a lot about the #MeToo movement, so I think I should not say a lot,” Herskovitz begins, “but I will say that there have been many moments in my life where I felt the culture tried to simplify human nature or simplify the way humans should be in this world, and that has never interested me. … Men are complicated, women are complicated, there are bad people in this world, there are confused people in this world, and I’m only interested in exploring the entire universe that exists inside a human being — and part of that universe is dark, and part of it is light. I wouldn’t have any problem talking about a girl’s attraction to a bad boy today because that exists in human nature. I’m not saying it’s good or bad — I’m just saying it exists — and I would want to portray it as part of a developmental process because I think it is.”

Danes and Jared Leto as Jordan Catalano in My So-Called Life. (Photos: Everett Collection)

So many of the producers who’ve participated in this “Why Teen TV Matters” series told us that My So-Called Life was the show that first taught them the impact a series could have. That’s the reason the series may be the one Herskovitz feels proudest of having worked on in his career. “Twenty-five years later, to hear with some regularity how it influenced people, or how they felt in some way empowered by it, or just understood is a remarkable feeling, frankly. And I give Winnie all the credit. I mean, she made that happen, and I am just so happy to be able to help her bring that vision to the world,” he says.

In retrospect, he can even appreciate that My So-Called Life is “like the James Dean of television shows” — that in some way, it’s better that they only got to make 19 episodes. “Because it lives in this perfect memory of each one was a gem,” he says. “I’d like to believe that if we had done five seasons of it, it could have been still great, but there is something about it having died young that just adds to that feeling of specialness about it.”

He’s, of course, also proud of the equally groundbreaking thirtysomething, which ran from 1987 to 1991, and, in his words, “went right up to that envelope of how little story could you have and still fill an hour of television — because the less story you had, the more human interactions and moments of life that you could depict.” But he points to a movie he directed, 1998’s Dangerous Beauty, based on the true story of 16th century Venetian courtesan/poet Veronica Franco, as well.

“The idea behind this film was to explore the idea of women owning their own sexuality, and not being stopped by the chain and punishments that society so often forced on them,” he says. Though it wasn’t a blockbuster, it became a kind of cult hit on Netflix with women who considered it an anthem. “I was very proud of that, and I was actually very conscious while I was making it that in some way I was making it for my daughters, even though they were too young for it at the time,” he says. “The idea of them becoming women and navigating their own lives, I wanted to create a message of something that showed the possibility of liberation.”

Empowering young women is something he still strives to do on Nashville, with Lennon and Maisy Stella’s characters, Maddie and Daphne. Bringing us full circle, “There’s just an assumption on this show that these kids are going to speak their minds. There’s no pretense that they are going to be ‘ladylike,’ in some old-fashioned sense of what girls are supposed to be,” he says. “They argue with their father, they argue with each other, they just live their lives, and I love that. I love that they are fully realized in that way.”

My So-Called Life is currently streaming on Hulu. Watch all 19 episodes for free on Yahoo View. Nashville returns for the start of its final episodes June 7 on CMT.

Read more “Why Teen TV Matters” from Yahoo Entertainment:

Why ‘My So-Called Life’ is the most influential teen show ever

‘My So-Called Life’ and ‘Parenthood’ creators on Parkland teens ‘changing the conversation’ on TV and in real life

Show creator looks back at 4 decades of ‘Degrassi,’ from abortion to Drake

Joss Whedon on Parkland students: ‘I’ve been writing about kids like these for a long while. I thought I was writing fantasy.’

Why social media is the biggest issue teen TV should tackle

Why vampires aren’t as sexy in the age of #MeToo