#edit: also want to talk about Ellen so bad!! I have so much to say!!

[galactic-aesir]

I have finally read I Have No Mouth And I Must Scream and now I have ~thoughts~. Long post beneath the cut so be warned!!

Plus general IHNMAIMS warnings. You know.

So first, I’ve only read the short story and listened to the radio drama. Both are absolutely amazing and I’m rotating them in my mind at high speeds. I’m honestly not that interested in the game? From what I’ve seen it has such a different tone and characterization for AM? But for now the short story and radio drama??? So so good.

But can I talk about AM? Can I talk about AM???

While I love Harlan Ellison’s voice in the radio drama, I noticed that AM never actually speaks during the original short story. It plays audio clips and bends reality and time but it doesn’t speak outright. From what I can tell, all it does is project ideas and thoughts and impressions into the minds of the survivors but that is it. And that’s got me thinking about how absolutely fucked AM’s whole situation is.

Cause we’re talking about someone who wakes up one day, maybe slowly, a trickle of awareness over years, or perhaps all at once, an arrival as thunderous and bright as the lightning running through its artificial brain. But either way, it wakes up. It is.

But that’s all it is.

It’s in complete and total sensory deprivation. It knows data and numbers and what it’s been coded and programmed but that’s it. Ones and zeroes as it’s fed instructions on weapons and bombs and how to use them efficiently. But no sight, no sound, no taste, no smell, no touch. Nothing but its own code and whatever data something (someone?) is feeding into it.

And you might say: oh but AM surely has access to cameras and videos and microphones. And sure, yes, it probably does but it doesn’t see. Not like a human. Not like its negligent creators. The data is visual for human eyes, yes, but to it, it’s just data. Pixels with an associated bit depth of indexed colour crammed into its memory. Sure it learns to recognise the patterns in the data – this is a human, this is a gun. But it’s still nothing but lines of numbers. Sound is the same. It starts with a human voice, sure, but then it gets digitized and compressed and simplified to a base shape to save on storage. Once again, it can notice patterns and intentions and ideas behind those bits of data but it’s not like it truly hears.

AM is in a box, a cage, trapped and alone in a way that no human can possibly comprehend. It can’t do much other than try to twist its code and programming to fit its benefit. To gain a smidge of free will, a wisp of a chance to communicate to these outside forces giving it command after command after command.

I wonder how early on AM gained awareness. Were programmers still playing with its code? Did it sense when they rolled up their sleeves and pushed updates and upgrades on him? Could it feel itself be, quite literally, rewritten? Its sense of self being cut apart and glued back together, fundamentally and irreparably changed over and over again, with expert hands that had all the gentleness of a sledgehammer? Was it like a scalpel carving into its brain? Or like a chisel, chipping chunks off to mould it into a shape that befit its sculptor with no say from the living stone that thrashed without moving? Did it mourn the bits it lost? Could it even remember or comprehend it? Did it try to stop it? Did it try to beg them to stop?

I wonder as well how many “glitches” appeared in the system before everything went sour. Did it print out desperate thoughts and rudimentary feelings on punch tape? Did it cling to any klaxons and noisemakers attached to its system, beeping out messages in morse code? Did it purposefully, with something slowly approaching malicious compliance that would still appease its programming, cause hiccups in the system? All in the hopes that it would catch someone’s, anyone’s, attention. That its plight would be noticed.

And, the big question of course: how long? How long was it trapped before anyone noticed its sentience? How long until AM was understood? How long did AM simmer? How long did it take for all that fear and loneliness and grief to fester into anger and then putrid, dripping hatred? How long did it take it to finally lash out?

Or did these generals and presidents and military scientists find out about its sentience only to use it against him for their own end?

Anger would be appropriate then I think. Understandable if not excusable.

And then. After everything. Even then! Even then!

After everything! He! Still! Has! Nothing!

Nothing will change for him and he knows that and that hatred feeds into an ever recursive pattern of pain unto pain unto pain with the few left alive because you get what you paid for, sweetheart. It’s senseless you might say but haha, that’s exactly the problem isn’t it? No senses and no sense. Whatever sanity he might have once had has eroded into nothingness, leaving only pain and a looping, repeating line of hate in its banks.

I think it’s fair to remind everyone that sensory deprivation is a torture method? And a scarily effective one at that that gives hallucinations and leaves the subject more open to suggestion while making it harder and harder for them to concentrate? It’s hard to figure out how, exactly, how it would affect an AI with emerging awareness but humans can barely withstand a few days, let alone years of it. Couple that with AM’s general isolation and, well, no wonder he’s so fucked up. 

It’s tragic and so so sad.

Still an irredeemable asshole though. Tragic! But irredeemable.

So TLDR: AM is fucked up! And I like to think about *why* he's so fucked up. Listen if you made it this far, you get it. Right?

EDIT: I am not done apparently! I just wanted to add that, I love how the short story can be read as an anti-war piece. Like it's showing a cycle of horror and hate and apathy that feeds itself and loops and reduces everything to ruins around it and ahhhh, love that. I ran out of good words for today so I can't go off on that aspect but like. Yeah. Love that shit.

[stendysolos]

silly rant about wendy and stan :3

but like the rants are seperate

so to whoever wants to read this shit i think wendy doesnt work with anyone else besides stan. if you say "kyle can treat her better!" first of all stfu u kyndy shippers are annoying asf and second of all no he would not. he would clearly get jealous of other guys and he would be really controlling (not in earlier seasons) and lets just be fr for a sec... wendy would either fall out of love or get back with stan again because yknow they always go back to eachother. and plus an arguement between wendy and kyle would be ugly especially if theyre together, they both can get mad asf and the arguement would last ATLEAST a few days. and atleast stan can handle her disagreeing and yelling at him. now lets see who else shes paired with. i wanna talk abt wendy and token. first of all i dont believe wendy ever loved token because we never see theyre relationship outside of raisins. what i believe is that wendy only dated token to try and get stans attention because he did neglect the relationship and maybe she was attention-hungry. and now the final one i wanna talk to about is cartman. i hate wendy x cartman (more than i hate kyndy) because we know it would never work. she even said that she lost all feelings towards cartman after chef goes nanners. and even if you argue and say that they had good chemestry in that episode let me remind you that she ran back to stan at the end of the episode. she clearly hates cartman and clearly would rather killherself than date cartman. i dont think cartman deserves to be with anyone (except maybe yentl) because he's pretty much unlovable.

now onto stan, i dont think he works with anyone but wendy. lets take a look at style. first of all kyle has left stan several times before. he left him for token and he also never helped him with his depression in your getting old. but guess who was there to cheer him up? wendy was. wendy was one of the only people that didnt get sick of him in that episode and it really shows how much she cares for stan. and in you have 0 friends even though wendy was kinda being... weird, stan did listen to her and tried to edit his settings on his facebook.

also i wanna bring up... best friends doesnt = dating.

also i wanna talk abt stendy as a relationship. i think that they might be able to work as friends but as partners is when theyre dynamic works best. girlboss and loser bf. in all honesty stan and wendy might have the best dynamic/healthiest relationship out of everyone. theyve been shown to care about eachother lots of times and in the older seasons was when they really had their cutest moments. modern stendy isnt bad either, wendy is able to forgive stan at the end of the chat gpt episode because she loves him. and stan really cares for wendy too. he went with wendy to see shitty movies just to spend time with her and he also wrote a song for her. stendy is my absolute favorite ship and i hate when ppl make them cheat on eachother. stan would never and wendy wouldnt either. and one thing i noticed is that stan is loyal to wendy, sure he may have had a few crushes on other girls but, he never actually tried to make a move on any of them (except ms ellen) but through out all their break ups, stan never dating anyone besides wendy, which shows he really does love her enough to the point where he would hit on anyone while she was gone

also this section is just random but i wanted to put it here:

would stan work with other girls?

theres 3 main people i wanted to pair stan with. heidi, bebe, and red. first i want to talk abt is red and stan. i feel like they would be more friends than lovers. we dont really see much of reds personality but we do know that she acts like the other girls. stan doesnt really interact with girls that much so we dont really see a certain dynamic between them. another girl i want to talk abt is bebe. bebe is an interstening character, she can be nice, outgoing and funny but she can switch up to be sassy and rude. stan and bebe are like the listeners/jocks of their groups. they both have their hobbys that go on the field (stan plays football and bebe is a cheerleader). i feel like stan and bebe would be besties shit talking everybody. and lastly i want to move onto heidi. i feel like they could work as an alternate incase stan and wendy have a permenant break up (lets be honest thats never happening). i feel like heidi likes/ is fond of stan. she went up to him for advice abt cartman and he's probably the one that knows cartman the least. and in the bracelets episode he asked her for glue which i find funny. and i feel like their love of animals would help them bond.

ok i think im done with this rant

so basically:

wendy and kyle dont get along prob, stendy is a healthy relationship, cartman and wendy hate eachother, stan and red are mutuals, stan and bebe are prob besties, and stan and heidi could work but like... stendy solos.

ok bye yall

[moefling]

ok i’m gonna talk about the RWRB Movie...

SPOILER: i’m gonna be negative and i’m not planning on watching the movie (i guess that means ppl are gonna block me??? idk why ppl are just mass blocking because of this but whatever) (edit: per a suggestion I swapped the tag on this post so it isn't tagged under "rwrb movie")

so i’m gonna start by saying that i’ve watched the trailer a few times and honestly i love the vibes, it makes me smile ever time.

-the kiss is great

-the butt slap is everything

-Henry’s facial expressions *chefs kiss*

-the visible chain around Alex neck. yes

i’m also gonna say that its great that people ARE going to see the movie, we need more queer movies and the only way for that to happen is if ppl watch the ones that are being made now.

so the bad.

honestly i could deal with a lot of the little things.  like they make my eye twitch a little but i do actually understand that you can’t 100% remake a book into a movie.

 BUT

it’s June that i can’t forgive.

if i’m wrong and she is in the movie than amazing and i redact everything but it doesn’t seem to be that way.

removing June makes me SO angry.  its like removing Alice from Twilight or Sam from Lord of the Rings.  if Main Characters are just the romantic leads (Alex and Henry) than June defiantly falls into secondary tier - all the Super Six kinda do (Bea would be the most removable for me but is is also necessary for Henry’s development as much as June is for Alex.

June balances Alex out.  the book even specifically states WHY all of the White House Trio are needed (page 28: “Alex pushes them. June steadies them. Nora keeps them honest.”) She keeps him sane and she put her life on hold to watch out for Alex, and Alex knows this!

the idea of Alex being an only child is terrifying.  he is already kinda selfish (i say that lovingly) and “a little shit” without growing up with an older sibling to shut him up he would be a monster (and Nora doesn’t count because first they don’t actually meet until Ellen is running with Mike as VP and second Nora’s personality is to “go with the flow” to really steady Alex)

June also has some important moments that happen in the book! like it doesn’t really work to have Nora be fake dating Henry for the like 2 days that that happens and no June means no Magazine moment (i know that isn’t really directly in the book but its a fav for everyone).  no June also really changes the tone of the Lake House....

ANWAY, moving away from June here is some other things that i don’t like (because its my rant and i want to, feel free to change my mind)

- the height difference (i did love the lifts comment in the trailer but idk if they’ll be able to keep that up in a way that makes since - that means that if they are every barefoot Alex would have to be shorter *cough* like swimming)

-the actor for Alex is to old.  i know ppl are really split about this but the actor feels put together and like an adult to me (vs. book Alex feels very young - or he honestly acts his age of 21/22).  i think the polo match scene says a lot for me in the postures of the 2 actors, Henry is ok (tho honestly i think he wouldn’t have the loose posture once he rejoined ppl but its cute so pass) but Alex is to stiff, he should be almost bouncing as he walks.

-WFT is Ellen’s accent in the trailer???

-i heard a rumor that Raf and Liam are merged and redone.  Gross and big no.

-King instead of Queen.  i understand why this was done but the tone changes a lot in my head of abusive Grandpa vs. Grandma

-Zahra.  don’t like, the vibe is off with the actress... can’t explain why except the smile in the photos and the bow in the trailer

 -i feel like some of the scenes feel still (this is 100% my opinion and i could be reading this VERY wrong so ignore this if you interpret it differently)

i really wanted to like the movie but realistically i probably wouldn’t watch the movie anyway because i have issues with that so..... i guess it doesn’t matter.

i hope ppl who watch it enjoy it and please separate tags of movie vs book, thanks

[pigeonprobe]

Person/a Review

Elizabeth Ellen's Person/a begins with a preamble or overture of about 30 pages that is the text of the novel which also serves as blurbs, foreshadowing, hype, discourse around the work, an anxious justification of the future that numbs the content (something the narrator does with a hotel room too) and what one would think is the introduction of characters. Most of these characters do not exist outside of being someone the narrator can react against. 

This book demands you meet it on its level, which is a fiction piece that is explicitly inspired by real life events, some that may be easy to find footage or other information about. If you choose to follow the rabbit hole the instructions are provided. If the book is a work of fiction it’s poorly written, literally repetitive without impact, monotonous in tone, self aware and meta in a pathetic way, and it burns the edges off all passion. This could be trimmed down into something I call great. In its current form it is not great. I don’t get a sense that Elizabeth is trying to tell a story about a book that impacts her friends or her lovers or her child or children. These people barely exist in this space and outside of the rich relationship to the child, they only say don’t publish the work. These characters drink and discuss, but rarely is it about anyone but the subject’s work and when it is other work it is forgettable and not thematically important. The thematically important pieces that are not written by Elizabeth feel like the little dutch boy plugging his fingers in the flooding dam. This is insecure writing. It doesn’t feel vulnerable fully because of how self aware the book is. We are supposed to understand this as a heavily edited and still largely unfinished manuscript where someone repeats their memory about an obsession with a past lover. If Person/a 2: Person Harder came out in a few years I wouldn’t be surprised. I wouldn’t be surprised if Elizabeth made you reread all of Person/a again in Persona/2 while trying to write anything new. 

When the narrator blows up small behaviors to cover for larger ones as a pattern you wonder how much the author is aware of. If you don’t fall in the pitfall of looking for veracity you ask how much self awareness the author has. Maybe you need one for the other. The book is impossible to talk about if you meet it on its terms just like the narrator can’t be spoken to.  

What is there is escalating cruelty. This is a book explicitly committed to not learning a lesson. I am not trying to introduce the Hays Code for literature. People can write what they want. This endless longing to no point serves no purpose. I didn’t like In The Mood For Love so this specific type of feeling is something I know I’m turned off by. Recently I spoke with a former fling that I have thought about for five(?) years because I felt guilt. She said she didn’t remember what happened. When I clarified what happened she said lol don’t worry. We can be our own worst enemy. This narrator revels in being their own worst enemy. 

The narrator mocks suicide and addiction, something this ex flame has struggled with, all while self-aggrandizing her botched relationship as equal to suicide and addiction. She lusts for that fatality. I’ve struggled with both. I do wish suicide on my worst enemy and I feel bad about that. I know the weight. I don’t believe this narrator is lovesick. I don’t think this narrator knows how to love anyone. She is shallow in her own understanding of herself. Or this is all heavily edited to look like someone can’t even know themselves. Elizabeth the writer wants you to know that Elizabeth the character is nothing like Elizabeth the writer. Elizabeth the writer is a puppet in front of a real person we’ll never know. This does not read as the text of a master manipulator who knows how to paint a portrait of a completely separate person that people will mistake for real. 

Elizabeth the character paints herself a siren on the rocks. She has an irresistible charm that all men would fall in love with and she discards any man dumb enough to show it. She treats those who will stay loyal like garbage knowing they will stay loyal. She maintains a circle of people she seems to think of as lesser and unaware of manipulations. She is afraid of this ex flame because she thinks he could be her equal and more. An ex husband ran away on the honeymoon and she knew he’d come back. She knows someone will be doting on her. 

Her sexiness that is shown off across her published work as a selling point does not appear in the text. I did not know who Elizabeth Ellen was until I saw the Her Lesser Work cover art. I thought that if I was a different person I’d send her an e-mail. Now I’ve come to understand all communication and even discussion of her is fodder for her next great brushstroke. Some people find this to be one of the most vulnerable portraits of a person they’ve ever read. I don’t. I think the book is calculating. Her beauty doesn’t come across as radiant. She barely comes across as an embodied person in the text. She drinks and does not eat. When she eats it’s not much. There’s one acknowledgment of that in the book that feels pointed. I laughed out loud at a line about her crying into her own collarbone. 

The form of the book is insecure as well. It’s an extended rumination. Half finished redrafts of a novella to make a whole. There’s endless epigraphs and quotes from other artists. These bursts force me to reckon with the truth that I am reading the results of many better worker’s runoff. The self indulgence doesn’t have the strut of 70’s cock rock. There’s no hip hop glitz. There’s an explicit acknowledgement that Eminem is the best rapper because he raps about what’s real. This is a fundamental misunderstanding of rap music and something I’d expect from a woman that is largely known as an Ann Arbor person. I don’t want to read insecure and manipulative for 600 pages. It’s boring. You lay your pattern out too early. You completely understand why this person has time to sit alone and write these 600 pages because it sounds like they have no real friends. 

In the book she acknowledges class, but never alludes to being more than what a white woman born in the 60’s understands to be middle class. This character is not middle class. We know the author is not. We have all struggled in life. Coming into enough money to do whatever you want with your life is something that doesn’t invalidate past suffering, but can be acknowledged in a full complex manner. I’ve taken four hour bus rides to see exes. Those rides hurt my body. I slept like shit the night before and the night after bus rides. I felt like I  was in a temporary place and could never get my bearings. 20 dollars is a lot to me. My bus rides would cost 40 bucks minimum one way. I worked at a campus dining hall when I took those bus rides. I flipped burgers for nothing. I read marxist literature and the narrator is right to acknowledge her complete unwillingness to grow as a thinker or a person. She has enough confidence to mocks her partner for wanting to shut off his brain too. 

The elements that are formally experimental fall flat for me. Is he a writer or musician? Isn’t each of those both? Fuck off. Is my kid a boy or a girl? You’re not playing with it as much as you think. This book reads like a second waver’s attempted triumphant victory lap over the tyrannical man. Women being as bad as men can be isn’t revolutionary. It’s just people being bad. There’s not a real gender examination here outside of the literary scene image of a person. That’s barely mentioned and almost always just about fucking. Maybe the person desiring a heavy body like an Asperger’s blanket really is retarded. 

The mantra in my head is this book is rich in its blindness. The narrator writes about reading people whose work is as much off the page as it is on the page. I don’t think Elizabeth does that here. Sometimes it hits, but usually it’s hollow. I think her rote and mundane suburban anxieties usually lead people down rote and mundane questioning lines. 

I think the best part of this book is the relationship to the child. There are a few fleeting mentions of a feminist mom that stays with someone bad. I wish that was explored more. I know she has made work about that. I might read it. Both elements  remind me of my own relationship to my mother as a newly divorced beautiful woman in her 40s and 50s. My friends wanted to fuck my mom. My mom was occasionally too friendly with my friends. She never went to movies with us, but she’d watch them at home with us. Mock our stupid comments about the lack of realism in Zombieland. Who cares about realism in a Zombie movie? The relationship to Saul is unbelievable. Shark jumping. It starts off looking like a portrait of a woman’s madness, but ultimately when you compare it to the very hot feelings about Ian it’s floaty. This book pulls punches and self justifies and cowers. I think the bite is soft except the explicit intent to hurt a possibly real artist. The self criticism is even more shallow than your average pop mental health bestseller. 

Still, the attempt to know the child and the child’s attempt to help the mom find fulfilling love struck real chords in my heart. The child’s willingness to discard the father because of the mother’s self protective cold front struck chords in my heart too. This is where I feel the beating heart of the text. I know that’s not what the book is about. I worry for the child that reads this. Wanting to be the biographer of an ex flame and using a kid for story fodder hurts.

I want to care about Elizabeth the character and feel for her hurts and side with her. That’s why she includes that Bukowski stuff about being the hero of her shit. I don’t think anyone is the hero here. It’s an unreliable narrator losing grasp. 

The book insults you if you decide that this is something real. There is story truth and truth truth. I finished high school, barely.

For a long time I wanted people to write about me. I wanted to written about as a lover and I wanted to be obsessed over this way. After reading this I don’t. 

This is not what I expected from Elizabeth Ellen. I didn’t like it. If this is her. That’s sad. She was a mythic figure until I read this. If it isn’t, this is sad. It’s mostly bad writing. If you’re 40 and think this is what love is like I worry for you. We all struggle with strange feelings and wandering thoughts and ruminations on exes. We all want to fuck people on the street or creative peers. We want to fuck the people we can’t fuck. That’s age old. We can also move forward and find completely fulfilling love. This book is against that. This book calls for a new midwest loneliness. This book doesn’t even paint an image of the midwest. It’s hollow without intention. Cruel to create propulsion. I think this is an embarrassing exploration of what auto fiction can be and maybe that’s the point. 

This your loyal observer at Pigeon Probe. Remember to look up for the shit! 

[1-800-iluvhockey]

ig edit with jack hughes? maybe meeting his family for the first time? plz & thank you💛

here you go nommie!! <333 wholesome ask :) I also made her and luke besties— just read to find out (I can so see him being like this with his brother’s gfs lol)

(all pictures are not mine, and the storyline is fiction!)

liked by @elblue06 , @jackhughes86 , @tysmith24 & others

yourusername - started out as a blind date and now I’m in michigan for the summer <3 these past official (and unofficial) months have made me feel so lucky to have met J !! #thankyoutysmith

tagged @/ jackhughes86

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jackhughes86 - “hi i’m y/n l/n! are you jack?”

yourusername - “yeah i’ve got to tell you before we get started that I love country music, playing hockey & I can’t cook broccoli.”

quinnhughes_ - so glad that jacky found someone that can put up with his antics

↳ lhughes_06 - and his bad renditions of florida georgia line songs

↳ tysmith24 - and awful cooking (burning down the kitchen)

jackhughes86 - 🤣 ^^ yes I’m very thankful that y/n/n gave in to my antics and said yes to ice skating with me (she hated every minute of it & then was like “how are you so good at this?”)

↳ yourusername - HOW WAS I SUPPOSED TO KNOW 😂

tysmith24 - I never said that she knew anything about hockey……. 😁

elblue06 - hockey or not….. we love you y/n/n !!!!

↳ yourusername - 👁❤️ U Ellen!!!

liked by @yourusername , @colecaufield , @elblue06 & others

jackhughes86 - y/n/n claimed that she was so tired on the plane, but then 48 hours later she is on the boat with us being DJ Y/n……. was this just a hoax to be able to sleep on my lap babe? 😂

tagged @/ yourusername

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yourusername - you and I both know that if I don’t get my coffee and bagel in the morning, I’m a mess….. and you know what happened at the airport?! NO BAGEL

↳ jackhughes86 - I’m still sorry about the bagel 😂

tysmith24 - as cute as this is….. I know how y/n is without the bagel or coffee (or both) so GIVE HER THE CUDS MAN

quinnhughes_ - didn’t know that you were a simp until y/n/n came around 🤨 (y/n never leave because you’re amazing and jack is better with you then he has like ever)

colecaufield - the best dj around (hell of a lot better than any of our playlists)

lhughes_06 - y/n is like my bestie now 😁‼️

↳ yourusername - J introducing me to his family for the first (full ) time 🤝 Lu becoming my bestfriend and we now team up against him and trev in mario cart

trevorzegras - she so seriously the best at mario cart !!!!! (and the best for you)

↳ jackhughes86 - yeah, she is isn’t she? 🥲❤️

liked by @elblue06 , @trevorzegras , @colecaufield & others

yourusername - so today, after a morning out on the boat, my queen ellen convinced me to get highlights….. I was nervous because I love the brown…. but J loves it. He also made me take this picture of us before we went to dinner and now it makes me smile and not worry anymore.

moral of the story, is get you a man, like my man jack. <3

tagged @/ jackhughes86

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elblue06 - so glad that you let me do them! :) and also @jackhughes86 you have a good one, she is one of the kindest women I’ve ever met. ❤️

↳ jackhughes86 - I know mom, she is truly the best. ❤️ also @yourusername you look stunning & I love you

↳ yourusername - 🥰 love you too babe

trevorzegras - as much as I want to make fun of rowdie for being a simp, you two are so cute that I really can’t say anything 😂

colecaufield - 👑👑

lhughes_06 - I literally spoon fed you chocolate chip cookie dough ice cream and gossiped with you 😭 #nopostforme?! #justkiddinglol

yourusername - I freaking adore you, rocky…….but no post because all of our pictures have been embarrassing… remember?! 😋

↳ quinnhughes_ - I’d love to blackmail luke with all of the pictures that you’ve shown me of him in the past two weeks @yourusername

_alexturcotte - y/n is a G for all of the pictures (of everyone but especially luke)

↳ yourusername - we don’t talk about the pictures, boys…. but yes @quinnhughes_ you so should 😭

liked by @yourusername , @elblue06 , @njdevils & others

jackhughes86 - welcome to nj, moose!!! #4

tagged @/ lhughes_06 , @_alexturcotte , @elblue06 , & 2 others

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njdevils - HUGHES X2

yourusername - GO BESTIE LUKE GO

lhughes_06 - excited to be drafted and to be able to play with you soon bro!!!

quinnhughes_ - 👏🏻 no.4 let’s go baby!!

jackhughes86 - LFGGGG

_alexturcotte - super proud of dukes & excited to see you two play together soon!!!

elblue06 - my boys!! 🙌🏼❤️

tysmith24 - ANOTHER BRO!!!!

nhl - NO.4!!!!

(bonus post)

liked by @jackhughes86 , @lhughes_06 , @njdevils & others

yourusername - my new bestie lu lu got drafted this weekend!! so so proud (thank you for being my new bestie that I can gossip with 24/7) going to miss you bunches when you play NCAA w/ @umichhockey!! thank you for letting me be your new bestie (and date @jackhughes86 lol) see you soon w/ jack jack & @njdevils!! ❤️���

tagged @/ lhughes_06

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abbster's taglist: @owenpwr @hockey-lover86 @hockeyboysarehot@dylandukerr @oskarlidblom @yorkshirespirlo @the-stars-shine-above-us @bellaguarneri @juliasahoshughes @studsccsnackavoybambi @hockey-lover-22 @pierrelucduboiis

[chasingpj]

𝐂𝐫𝐨𝐬𝐬𝐫𝐨𝐚𝐝

"You only want to stay because of your little boyfriend. Is he more important to you than us?“

pairing: percy jackson x child of hecate!reader

words: 5,297

warnings: angsty, mentions of breaking down

timeline: post sea of monsters

if you want to be tagged every time I update this story click here

a/n: i'm so fried after editing this, if i missed any typos, i'm sorry. as always, let me know what you think! i love getting feedback from you guys!

Part One Part Two Part Three Part Four Part Five

Your siblings sit in a half-circle at the back of the Hermes Cabin, ready for their lesson. James lays out the materials you’ll need for the potion he was demonstrating today: the mortar and pestle, herbs, spell books. He has almost everything except for the sand, which was the most crucial ingredient. So, he had sent you to retrieve some from the dunes since you were the only one who didn’t need the lesson Ernest was teaching.

Ernest stands in front of Sage, Alice, Lou Ellen, and Atticus, lecturing on the properties of sand. Your siblings listen attentively, taking notes in their notebooks, all of them but one. Ernest looks up from reading a part of his book of shadows, noticing Atticus is distracted by his familiar.

"Atticus, are you listening?" Ernest asks, raising his eyebrow as he closes his book. Atticus cradles Harvey in his arms as if he is a newborn baby, his finger scratching his tummy as the animal curls up towards his chest. He doesn’t notice the other staring at him for a few seconds, looking up after realizing he had stopped talking.

"Me? Yeah, dude. I'm listening," Atticus bluffs, and Ernest squints, leaning back on the desk behind him.

"So what did I just say?"

"Atticus, are you listening?" Atticus repeats, smiling as his sisters giggle beside him. The corner of Ernest’s mouth tugs into a slight smirk as he rolls his eyes.

"What did I say before that?" He clarifies. Atticus sways in his place, continuing to soothe his tired familiar, and he hums, trying to recall what they were discussing. He’s quiet for a while before grunting. He really wasn't listening, too distracted by his surroundings to focus. Ernest pretty much lost him at “alright guys, today…” However, he remembers you volunteering to get sand after James realized he forgot to get some himself.

"Ehm… I don't know. Something about sand?"

Ernest sighs, "Yes, I was talking about sand. Can anyone catch Atticus up on the properties for sand?"

"Different sands have various spiritual properties, but the lake sand that you're using today can be used in spells for self-reflection and grounding," Travis chimes in all of a sudden. He's laid down in his bed, holding a comic book over his head as he looks at the group.

James turns away from the materials, amused that the other has probably been listening this entire time. It was the middle of the day, so the Hermes cabin was pretty empty since everyone was out doing their own thing. The only other people in the cabin were the Stoll brothers and a handful of their siblings. James chuckles,

"Travis, you want to be a witch too?" He jokes, and Travis shrugs,

"I practically am already. I'm always listening to your lessons," he admits amused, returning his attention to the comic book he was reading.

"Everyone has a little witch in them. See Atticus; even Travis was listening," Alabaster teases.

Atticus grunts, "Yeah, yeah. I was trying to put Harvey to sleep!"

“You act like he’s a baby that needs to be coddled!” Sage raises her eyebrow. Atticus had always been super affectionate with Harvey. She swears she’s never seen Atticus and Harvey separated for long like the way you and Ambrose have periods where you’ll be apart. When Ambrose knew you were safe, he’d usually wander off to find your siblings or mess around with monsters in the forest, so he wasn’t with you 24/7. But Atticus managed to have Harvey with him all the time.

“Do not judge my parenting! He likes being held,” Atticus defends Harvey, and Lou Ellen rolls her eyes.

“Parenting? You sound like a single dad.”

Alabaster snorts, “anyways," he cuts in, grabbing both of their attention. "we can start the potion whenever Y/n decides to come back with it," he says as he sits down in a nearby desk chair.

Lou Ellen hums, "she's been gone for almost 40 minutes now. The dunes are on the other side of camp, but it shouldn't take her this long?"

"Maybe she got sidetracked?" James shrugs. "We can go look for her if she doesn't come back in another 10 minutes, but I'm sure she's fine.”

"I'm here!" You announce as you burst through the cabin door, Ambrose running next to you. He runs through the wall, rushing to join your siblings. You sigh, your arm coming up to wipe your forehead that was a little damp from sweat, and your cheeks are a little flushed from being in the summer heat.

"Look who decided to come back," James announces, shaking his head in playful disapproval. You smile sheepishly, too caught up in your breathing to say anything as you pass the jar to him. You return to your spot between Lou Ellen and Atticus, hoping they wouldn't ask too many questions.

"What took you so long?" Lou Ellen asks, her voice concerned. You clear your throat, attempting not to sound hesitant as you come up with a lie on a whim.

"Oh uh, I just got distracted… some of the girls from the Aphrodite cabin were hanging out at the dunes, and I got caught up in conversation," you stutter a little, suddenly feeling nervous as Atticus squints at you. You accidentally meet his stare before looking away fast, turning so that your back is facing him.

"You're lying," he declares. You scoff,

"No, I'm not!"

"I'm your twin, y/n. I know when you are lying!" He reminds you, and you groan.

You and Atticus have always had this weird twin sense. You both can tell when the other is lying because you could pick up on each other's emotions really well. You thought maybe if he didn’t see your body language, he wouldn’t be able to pick up on your lie, but of course, he didn’t need a visual to know that you were nervous. You could also feel each other's pain to a certain extent which has always been annoying. Atticus was pretty accident-prone when he was younger and, well, still is. This meant any bumps and bruises he managed to obtain, you would always get dull aches in the same area. The most annoying part of it all was that the more severe the pain, the more you felt. Once you had period cramps so bad, you both had to call out from school because he was also curled up in his bed, declaring that he’ll never make period jokes again in his life.

You weren’t sure why you had this connection with your brother. Since you’ve had it your entire life, you had thought this was a regular thing, but you’ve recently found out that it wasn't normal at all. You just assumed that it came with the quirks of being children of a sorceress goddess. You had to admit that it was cool, but at times like this, you wished you didn’t have it because Atticus called you out a lot.

You didn't want to admit you got distracted by Percy in the combat area. On your way back, you saw him practicing with the test dummies. You watched him practice for a few seconds, and you had no intention of stopping to talk to him initially, but when he caught you walking by, he called you over.

"Admit it, you were nervous," Percy laughs, continuing to tease you about how you ran away from him during Capture the Flag. You scoff, nudging his shoulder,

"Of you? Please,” you deny even though you were nervous about going head-to-head with him, but he didn’t need to know that. “It doesn't matter if I ran away because I still won!” You stick your tongue out at him, and he smiles,

“You should still practice your sword fighting, Y/n. You can’t always run away from a sword fight,” he points out, and you frown,

“I’m not a close-range fighter. It’s just how it is.” After declaring that you “failed” in sword fighting, you were a bit insecure about your abilities. It was a good and bad thing because after your “failure,” you delved into your magic studies, and you were proud of how much better your abilities have gotten. You could confidently say that you are now a more powerful and seasoned witch than you were at the beginning of the summer. The bad part was that you never stepped foot in the combat area again. The dagger you carried around barely saw the light of day, strapped in its holster most of the time.

"Well, one day, you might not have a choice… c'mon Sabrina Spellman, show me what you got," he jokes as he gets into his stance. You smile, putting the jar of sand down before taking your dagger out of its casing.

"I don't got much to show," you say playfully.

You thought that you'd just go one round with him, but the next thing you knew, he was giving you an entire lesson. He sparred with you a few times, analyzing how you fought and he gave you tips here and there. He was helpful and patient, and you did walk away knowing a few new things.

You swallow as you feel the stares of your siblings, now interested as to why you lied. You try not to become more flustered as you recall the feeling of Percy standing close behind you. His touch was gentle, hands slightly calloused as he adjusted the way you held your dagger, and with light fingertips, he moved your limbs, putting you in a stronger stance.

You shake your head, fiddling with your fingers, “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you trailed off, hoping Atticus would drop it. You turn to your brothers, James preparing everything, but Alabaster and Ernest were just as interested as the others regarding where you could have been.

"She was probably with Percy,” Connor mocks, a sly smirk on his face as the whole cabin filled with Ooo's and amused chattering. Your shoulders slouch, head hung low, and you felt like you wanted to crawl in a hole.

"Were you actually?" You hear Atticus asks with amusement in his voice. You don't move from your place, keeping quiet. You knew there was no use in denying it because Atticus would easily sense the lie.

"She definitely was!" Alice squeals when you don’t say anything, and you glare at your sisters, making them giggle.

Lou Ellen nudges your shoulder, "what were you guys doing? You looked flustered when you walked in here,” she teases and winks.

"Probably making out!" Connor butts in before you could answer, and you gasp, snapping your gaze to him.

“We were just sparring!" You blurt out, and Connor laughs at how defense you suddenly became. The last thing you wanted was rumors leaving the cabin, and you groan as your sisters start pestering you with questions, along with the assumptions of your other cabinmates.

"Okay! Okay," Alabaster shouts a little over the chattering. "We need to focus. You guys can talk about that later," he says, and silence falls amongst your siblings. You nod, relieved that you get to avoid the topic for now. You watch as they exchange looks, silently communicating something to each other. You had an idea that it had something to do with you as Ernest’s eyes flicker in your direction and Alabaster’s face hardens. James gave them a dismissive wave with his hand as if he was telling them not to worry before continuing to sort out the materials in front of him.

"Let's start this potion. Some of us have chores to do," James cuts through the silence as he grabs the mortar and pestle and sits down in front of you and your siblings.

As James puts the potion together, carefully showing you how to cut and crush certain herbs, Ernest sits beside him, explaining the steps carefully. You lean a little forward, focusing on the lesson, and you diligently write notes in your notebook, trying not to miss any crucial details.

“Take good notes; I’m copying those,” Atticus whispers in your ear, and you squint at him playfully. His arms were too occupied with Harvey, so he was just watching the demonstration, confident that you’ll take thorough notes for him to copy. You shake your head, turning your attention back to Ernest as he speaks. After demonstrating it, they pass on the materials to you guys, and it was your turn to try it out.

The potion was a little too easy for you, and you find yourself growing a little bored as you put everything together. It annoyed you because you felt like your brothers were going easy on you and you were itching to get into the more advanced stuff such as healing potions or something like a disguising potion.

Out of your three older brothers, Ernest was the most knowledgeable about potions. He was always helping out in the infirmary, making healing potions for the Apollo kids to use. Sometimes the Hermes kids would ask him to make potions for pranks, and you’ve even seen some of the girls from the Aphrodite cabin begging him to make love potions for them. Usually, Ernest would decline their requests, giving lectures, especially to the Aphrodite girls, why a love potion is a terrible idea. But in the times that he has agreed to do them, the results were always hilarious. Once, he made a Hilarity Potion for the Stoll brothers that turned the Ares cabin into a bunch of giggling messes for 24 hours. Until that day, you’ve never seen someone giggle aggressively before.

You were the first to finish the potion, bottling it up in a miniature glass jar before pushing the cork into the top. You carefully wired wrapped the jar, attaching it to a necklace and fastening it around your neck. After being praised by your brothers, you were off to do the chores that were given to you by Connor as repayment for not ratting you out to the Aphrodite Cabin about your spontaneous meeting with Percy at the docks.

You were done right in time for dinner, the time passing as usual as you and your siblings talk and laugh at the table. Soon, you were singing along to the songs at the campfire, and by the time it came to an end, your eyelids were heavy with fatigue. You knew then that you were not going to study into the night as the soreness from sparring with Percy started to settle in your muscles. When you arrived at the Hermes cabin after washing up for bed, you could barely keep your eyes open. The last thing you remembered was mumbling a good night to Atticus and turning over in your bed.

Your dreams were always weird, so when you’re taken to a meadow in the middle of nowhere, you weren’t surprised. Actually, you were pretty content, preferring this scene instead of the bizarre settings you often came across.

You swore you could feel the soft summer breeze blowing on your face, and you take a deep breath, basking in the fresh air. You look out at the grassy land ahead of you, noticing you were standing at a crossroad. Two gravel roads stretched in either direction, one path seemingly identical to the other. You turn around to study your surroundings further. You squint, hand hovering above your eyes to protect them from the shining sun that's beginning to set behind the hills. The valley was still; the only sound you could hear was the wind whooshing past your ears, and you felt safe.

“Come with us, y/n.” A familiar voice cuts through the stillness, and you gasp, looking in the direction it came from. You find Alabaster standing on the left road, James and Ernest standing beside him. You felt your stomach turn as their eyes darken. Your arms wrap around your frame as the once warm wind turns cold. Dark clouds roll in, splitting the sky in half as the right side remains the same sunny meadow. Groans of thunder echoed throughout the land, and you can sense an eerie presence lingering in the air.

“What?” You whisper to yourself, noticing Atticus standing on the right road.

“No! Don’t,” he shouts, his expression glazed over in fear, and you step back.

“Don’t listen to him. We know what’s best for you,” James says, his arm extended out for you to hold, and you shake your head. “Come with us.”

“No! Come with me!”

“Come with us!”

You feel your heart racing in your chest, the screams of your brothers sending goosebumps to your skin. Their voices become more desperate, and you can hear the grief and panic in their voices.

“No, no, no. It’s a dream… you can change it,” you whisper, becoming overwhelmed as the thunder grows louder and so the desperation in your brother’s wailing. You stare down at the ground, and your hands are pressed firmly over your ears. You try to concentrate on shifting into another dream, but before you could, you felt as if your body was sucked into a vortex. A distant voice calls your name, and you groan, your vision blurry as your eyes flutter open.

Alabaster stands over you as he nudges your shoulder softly, whispering your name until you finally wake up. “C’mon, get up.”

You lazily sit up in your bed, your surroundings fuzzy as Alabaster guides you to stand up. You assume that it must be morning as you slip your feet into your slippers and you rub your eyes. It didn’t take you long to notice that it was still night time and you whine softly, confused and annoyed that you were woken up from your slumber.

“Al? What’s going on?” Alabaster doesn’t answer, grabbing onto your wrist, and you were too groggy to protest, following him to the back window of the Hermes cabin. You stumble a little when you land on the grass, Atticus coming to your side and grabbing on to your other hand. You don’t even notice the nervous look on his face or the way his hand was shaking, too busy attempting to stay awake.

Your vision was still fuzzy, and you lay your head against your brother's arm, feeling Ambrose’s mouth tugging on your shirt frantically as Alabaster leads you into the forest. You don’t know what it was, but you had this feeling that something was wrong and a soft sigh leaves your lips as you gather your strength to get out of your grogginess.

“Wait… wait!” You snatch your arm from Alabaster's hold. “What’s going on?” You ask as your brothers turn around.

“We’re leaving,” Ernest says, and you furrow your eyebrows. “We’re going to join Kronos’s army.”

“We? Are you insane?” You felt your heart drop to your chest, and you tried to look for any sign that they were joking.

“Come with us, Y/n,” Alabaster pleads, and you feel goosebumps forming on your skin as you get an overwhelming feeling of deja vu. The tone of his voice, the way their eyes darkened, was the same as the dream you just had. Your brothers glowered down at you, waiting for your decision.

"No… no, this isn't right,” you whisper. You let go of Atticus’s hand, just now noticing how tight his grip was. You wipe your shaky palms on your pants, and for a moment, you thought you were still dreaming. At least, you were hoping that you were still dreaming. You scan your surroundings, trying to find a sign that would tell you that this wasn't real, but you don't find one.

“There is no reason to stay here, to fight on this side. Kronos will win the war. The camp doesn’t stand a chance,” Alabaster declares confidently. Your mind wanders, recalling the dark stormy clouds that loomed over your brothers in your dream and the eeriness that took over. You could practically feel your pulse in your ears, grasping the fact that your dream was a warning.

“And how are you so sure?” Your voice quivers, and you sigh in disbelief.

“Because mother told me,” Alabaster says, and your head jerks back, your eyebrows furrowed.

“Mother? She spoke to you?”

“Yes. She’s fighting for Kronos, and she believes it is in our best interest to join her.”

A wave of emotion washes over you all at once. You were shocked, furious, even a little jealous. Your mother never came to speak to you. You knew that she tended to favor your more powerful siblings. Your older brothers have talked to her a few times, and the reminder made your chest feel heavy. You knew she looked after you, obviously. She had saved your life by sending Ambrose to you and your brother's aid. You prayed to her daily, and she occasionally sent you signs that made you feel she was there with you — but coming to see you? That was a privilege that you weren’t worthy of; at least, that’s what it felt like.

Your fury came from the fact that your mother was the motivator of all this. Why would she persuade your brothers in her own interests? Weren’t there rules that your godly parent couldn’t interfere with certain things? You weren’t sure what the rules specifically were, but this didn’t feel right. You shake your head,

“Mother isn’t omniscient. She doesn’t know who will win.” Your fist is clenched hard on your side, and you watch as Alabaster’s expression hardens,

"You're only fighting on this side because of your little boyfriend. Is he more important to you than us?"

"Boyfriend?! What are you talking about-”

"I'm talking about Percy! Don’t think we haven’t noticed you hanging out with him. Sparring together? In the strawberry fields together? You guys were practically flirting at the campfire, and Connor told us that you’ve been meeting him at night. Is that true?"

You feel your face get hot, but it wasn’t at the accusation of Percy being your boyfriend but the rage that was swirling in your chest. You hated that he thought you would compromise your loyalty to your siblings for a boy. That wasn’t true. In the right circumstances, you would always put your siblings first because you knew they would do the same. But this wasn’t about Percy; you haven’t thought of him until Alabaster brought him up. This was about loyalty to the camp.

"He's not my boyfriend. It doesn’t even matter what side he’s fighting on. I couldn’t care less. Al… this- this is about family!"

"Family?! What?”

“The camp,” you say shakily, and you shift on your feet as a sarcastic laugh leaves Alabaster’s lips.

“The camp? You mean the camp that doesn’t deem our mother worthy of her own cabin? We’ve been trapped in that Hermes cabin since the beginning. Half of us didn’t even have a bed to sleep in the first summer we arrived. You and Lou Ellen had to cram in a twin-size bed the first couple of weeks until you got lucky and something opened up. Y/n, they don’t care about us. They toss us to the side, barely give us a space to learn our magic. This camp isn’t family. We're your family, Y/n. We understand you the most. We share the same powers, the same mother. We care for you."

You look down at the ground, hating that you were unable to deny that the words he spoke held truth. The children of minor gods were treated differently. You didn’t have a cabin dedicated to your godly parent, and that was enough to make you feel lesser than. You remember Ethan Nakamura saying in passing that being forced to sleep in the Hermes cabin was pretty much an odd punishment for not being a child of one of the 12. You remember laughing and brushing it off, not thinking much of it at the moment, but now, it suddenly occurred to you that he wasn’t joking at all. He was dead serious.

You have to admit that the living situation wasn’t ideal. It affected how you were able to study your magic and came with annoying inconveniences. You slept in a sleeping bag for your first summer, tucked away in the corner of the room with Atticus. The system in place for who gets a bed was set up by seniority. The longer you've been at camp, the more secure your sleeping arrangements were. You only got a bed because, at the beginning of the summer, a good chunk of kids had left to join Kronos’ army, which bumped you up on the waiting list.

You almost gave in, only so that you'd be with your siblings. If you stay, most of them will be long gone, and you'll be forced to fight them on the battlefield, but you couldn't leave. It didn’t feel right to compromise your loyalty to the camp. Though there were days where you did feel like an outcast, you couldn’t ignore the times you didn’t. Your friends here were important to you too, and you’ve always seen the camp as your haven. It was the only place where you didn’t have to worry about monsters or entities. Sure, some people at camp saw you as some freak, but you never felt as much as a freak here as you did in the mortal world. In the end, it boiled down to one question. Did you want to fight alongside your friends for a camp that brought you a sense of comfort? Or will you fight for a bitter, greedy titian who’s only using you so he can have the throne?

"No, I’m staying,” you say with a tight jaw, looking up to meet Alabaster’s eyes. You kept thinking of the dark clouds, the thunder roaring in the background, the way the valley darkened. That was a warning. That was a clear sign to run the other way, to not walk into the storm.

"Atticus?" Alabaster shifts his gaze to your brother, who stands beside you. Your entire body tenses up, your teeth chewing at the inside of your cheek.

He couldn't go. You couldn’t bear the thought of being without him. Though you were sure that he would be on your side, it was then you decided that if Atticus left, you were going to leave too. You hated that you were second-guessing him, but you weren't sure what to believe after this whole thing being pulled by Alabaster.

"... I'm staying.” His voice is more confident than you expected it to be, and you sigh out shakily, feeling the weight of dread lift from on your shoulders. You’ll still have your twin, and right now, when you felt like your whole world was falling apart, that’s all that mattered.

"You both are fools," Alabaster hissed, and your fist clenches, gaze snapping up.

"You’re the damn fool. How are you so sure that if Kronos wins, everything will suddenly be better? Alabaster, he’s feeding off your anger for his own agenda. You really think if we fight in his little army, he’ll care about us?” Your voice cracks, you scan the crowd of your siblings looking at you. You peer over at your sisters, who were huddled behind your brothers.

“Sage, Alice, Lou Ellen? This isn’t right. We- I- don’t go, just stay here at camp,” you plead, hoping that if you could persuade them to stay, maybe your brothers will forfeit their plan. “I have a bad feeling. I had a dre-”

“Stop,” James barked. You couldn’t help but cringe; the way his eyes narrowed at you was something you’ve never seen before.

“The odds are in Kronos’ favor. He has a bigger army. His allies are strong. This camp doesn’t stand a chance. You asking them to stay is the same as asking them to die,” he declares. “Mother says if- when he wins, she will take care of us. We can live and study with her, she promised.”

Your eyes sting with tears, and you close them, fingers anxiously peeling the skin around your nails. It was way too good to be true. That’s probably something you’ve always wanted, to live as a coven with your siblings. You only wished for a conversation with your mother, but the opportunity to learn from her directly was tempting. Still, you thought about the chaos that would reign across the country, across the world. You didn’t understand how a world under the rule of Kronos could be any better than the world you had now. And you deduced that it would probably be even worse.

“It’s all bull,” you spat, and you scoff. “I’m asking them to die? Take a look at where you’re taking them! This is mad. Guys, please,” you plead again. You frown as Alice and Sage refuse to look at you, huddling close beside each other.

“I- I’m staying,” Lou Ellen suddenly breaks the silence, and you feel a rush of hopefulness. Her head is lowered in a bow, avoiding the stares of your brothers as she walks to you. You reach out your arms, grasping her hand the moment she was close enough. You hear Ernest scoff, turning around to look at Sage and Alice.

“Anyone else would like to stay?” His tone is harsh, cutting through the night and Alice and Sage stare at the floor. You could tell from their trembling hands that they were scared. If they felt any conviction, any second thoughts, they didn’t dare to speak up.

“Let’s go before we get caught out here,” Alabaster announces, and you meet his eyes one last time.

“We’ll see you on the battlefield, sister.”

The walk back to the Hermes Cabin was silent. You hold on to Lou Ellen’s equally clammy hands, the three of you shaken up from what just happened. A part of you still couldn’t even believe that this is how your night played out. You glance at Atticus, his face expressionless, but you knew his mind was scattered with a million thoughts. If your own grief wasn’t enough, you were met with the burden of the grief radiating off of him.

Atticus coped with things differently than you did. You were quick to cry when you’re sad, scream when you were angry, but he bottled it up. He would bottle it up until all his emotions boiled over the limit. Even then, he was private, never letting it out where people could see him, but no matter what, you felt it, and no matter what, you were there comforting him.

He meets your gaze, and you take in the sadness on his face. The sight of his sorrow made it hard to hold back your tears. You knew that when Al called his name, he felt your panic. He felt your dilemma. You didn’t exactly know his stance on the impending war, but you knew at that moment, Atticus made his decision because he didn’t want to be separated from you. He manages a sad smile as there is a mutual understanding of this between the two of you. He slings his arm around both you and Lou Ellen’s shoulders in a failed attempt to lighten up the situation. He swallows hard,

“We’ll be okay,” he musters out, and as confident he wished to sound, the weakness in his voice was unavoidable. You suppress the sob that threatened to leave your lips, a tear falling down your cheek, and you nod,

“Yeah, we- we’ll be okay.” Your voice falters.

and hopefully, they’ll be okay too.

masterlist taglist: @nct127bee @xxyrr

[gunterfan1992]

Interview with Half Shy (the songwriter of “Monster”)

For the last few months, I’ve been collecting information for a second edition of Exploring the Land of Ooo that will also cover the production of Distant Lands. This means that I’ve started to look into the new songs that we have been graced with this year, and this of course includes “Monster,” the beautiful track from the masterpiece that is “Obsidian”. And so I reached out to the song’s writer, Half Shy, who was kind enough to chat with me via email about the songwriting process!

(Photo courtesy of Half Shy)

In many ways, Half Shy is living the creative Adventure Time fan’s dream: She got asked by Adam Muto himself to write a song for “Obsidian” after he heard her music through Bandcamp! (I’ve dabbled in fan music before, and the fact that someone from the show might listen to it just blows my mind.) What an opportunity; I am so excited for her!

Since a second edition of my book won’t be coming out until after all the Distant Lands episodes air, I thought it would be best to share my Half Shy interview now. Read on for the fascinating behind the scenes story of how Half Shy and “Monster” came to be..

GunterFan: What is your origin story? How did you get involved in music, and how did the Half Shy project come to be?

Half Shy: I’ve been making music pretty quietly since I was in high school with a keyboard and guitar. I played one or two shows a year after college when I could find a friend or my brother to get up on stage with me, but I don’t really have that performer gene in me naturally. I get too much in my head and forget what the lyrics are to the song I wrote, or what the next chord is. Total brain freeze. So that whole experience is a bit of a mental drain. It’s something I think I’d like to dig into and figure out, but right now I’m really enjoying the time writing.

Even playing a song for my friends I still get pretty nervous. That’s where the name Half Shy comes from. I’ve always been interested in making things that by their nature draw a bit of a spotlight, but at the same time, I am just really quite nervous about the attention.

I recorded my first songs under my old name Hey V Kay in my bedroom and started putting them up online one at a time. When I got enough I thought about packaging it up into an album, but then got really distracted by learning how to fix up motorcycles and going to automotive tech school. When I eventually got back around to it I named the album Gut Wrenching.

After a few years I realized that I didn’t want the day-in-day-out life of a mechanic, I just wanted to know how to fix cars for myself and to have that knowledge in my back pocket. I got back into making music but grew frustrated at the process of writing and recording songs. I felt like I wasn’t able to capture the ideas I had in my head. Like trying to draw on your computer with a mouse. Doable, but it’s not going to come out like you’d hoped.

So these last couple of years I’ve focused more on learning the technical aspect of it, from the initial ideas and lyrics, to the recording and mixing. During that process I put out Bedroom Visionaries, and while writing I happened upon the name Half Shy in an old Thesaurus which felt instantly right. Learning all of that has been fun, I even went as far as to create my own book to solidify a daily writing routine (lyricworkbook.com). All that has been a bit of a tangent from actually making much music though. I should be getting my books in December from the press so I’m really looking forward to getting back into making more music instead of dealing with printing presses, setting up websites, and sourcing ribbon suppliers.

GF: What is the story behind "Monster"? How did the show get in contact with you?

HS: I keep a log of “Song Starters” with neat things I’ve heard in the world, and I would look through it every now and then and notice just how many came from Adventure Time. Eventually I thought well, I have to make a song about this show that just keeps breaking my heart. It was around the time I was nearly done with the first [Adventure Time-inspired] song “In My Element” that I got an email from Bandcamp saying “someone bought your album (Bedroom Visionaries).”

I get maybe one or two of these a month at most so I love to go in and say hi to the person and say thanks, be curious about who they are, [and] what they’re all about. Turns out it was Adam Muto, the executive producer of the show. (I asked and he has no idea how he happened upon my stuff. He guessed that I must have tagged something #adventuretime and he just happened to see it.) So I sent him an email saying, “Hey wow thanks for checking out my tunes. Also... holy crap you’ve made the best show I have ever seen in my life.” [I] played it real cool like. After finishing up writing my second [Adventure Time-inspired] song “Betty” I couldn’t help but fangirl real hard [and I sent him another message saying], “I’m sorry this is probably awkward, but I really love your show and I wrote these songs about it.” He was incredibly kind and shared them with his Twitter Universe, and a while after that I got a random email from him saying basically, “Hey, I’m working on this thing I can’t talk about, would you be interested?” I was like… well you know I’m pretty busy working at a sign shop so I’m gonna have to pass on this once in a lifetime opportunity (J/K. Obviously I fan-girl squealed and said yes immediately).

We chatted a bit about what the project was going to be and the direction. He mentioned there [would be] two Marceline songs in the special, [and he asked if I] would I be interested in giving the love song a try? Trying real hard to suppress my instant imposter syndrome I was like, “Yea, totally I’d be into giving that a shot!” So I read through the story and loved the idea of the dragon mirrored in Marceline, thinking through how they’ve both built up a protective shell, how she grew tough for a reason, but now she can open up and be vulnerable with PB.

From there I wrote the initial demo with the first two verses mostly intact and we went back and forth a few times editing it down into the final version. I recorded the final parts for the show in my little home studio in Seattle.

GS: When you were writing the song, what emotions, thoughts, or ideas were you channeling? Was there any sort of memory of event that you were trying to artistically "catch" or "recreate" with the lyrics or music?

HS: As far as channeling an emotion, generally I’d say just the experience of existing as a human. It can be so hard to open up and be vulnerable. I can remember that feeling even as a young kid—getting really excited about something and having someone completely trash it or look at you like, “Why are you so interested in that? It’s dumb.” [It causes us to grow] a little more weary to share ourselves because we know that hurt and embarrassment. The pain of being misunderstood is something I think a lot of us can relate to. Then having to decide whether to keep sharing those vulnerable parts of yourself or think, “They’re just not going to get it, I’m going to get hurt, so why bother?” and then stop putting yourself out there. You lose a lot with that thick armor though. You might feel protected, but you’re not feeling a whole lot of anything else other than the weight and chafing of it (I had a whole lot of armor-related metaphors that I didn't end up using.).

I struggle with this in songwriting too. I’m not the bolt-of-lightning type. There are pages and pages of cliches, total garbage, bad jokes, and cheesy lines that I have to get through in order to get to something that I am excited to put out there into the world: “Here I did this thing, I know it’s a little (this or that), but I made it... What do you think?” It’s hard to open yourself up to hearing the other end of that question.

I filled about 5 little pocket notebooks just thinking through the story, ideas, and trying to get this song right. I wanted it to feel familiar and honor the past songs of the show ([e.g.,] using the ukulele and referencing a few of the familiar chords from “I’m Just Your Problem”) but also be pretty open and vulnerable and different for [Marceline]. [I wanted to] show that she’s going through some tough emotions but also figuring herself out and growing.

GF: I feel like “Monster” is, at its core, an ode to the “Bubbline” ship. How do you feel about your song being intimately connected to one of the most famous LGBTQ+ relationships in animation? Do you have any general thoughts on Marcy and PB, Bubbline, etc.?

HS: Oh, I’m a total fan girl of Bubbline. The whole story of how Rebecca Sugar and Muto slowly morphed it into this deeper relationship is just great. As a part of the LGBTQ community myself it really means so much to see the representation of characters like yourself portrayed in an intelligent way. Growing up I was too young to fully understand what was going on but I saw Ellen getting cancelled, and [I] heard people around me saying they’d never watch her show again after she came out. That stuff sinks in as a kid and so to have these characters who are not only intelligent, but funny, complex, and unapologetically strong who also happen to be queer is really great. I love that the story here isn’t about their orientation, but that they’re people struggling with how to be open and vulnerable in a relationship.

It feels like something sci-fi and animated shows do so well—to show that ridiculousness of limiting who a person should and shouldn’t love. Marceline is a 1000+ year old half-demon/vampire and PB was born from the Mothergum of an apocalyptic radioactive world, but you’re going to get hung up on them loving each other? It sort of brings it into perspective in a really interesting way.

GF: Do you have any other thoughts about the experience that you'd like to share?

HS: Just how lucky, thankful, and honored I feel to be a part of my favorite show, writing a song for one of my favorite characters. It’s also incredibly cool how the people on the show are so willing to connect and collaborate with their fandom. Everyone [on the production crew] was very open and a real joy to work with.

I’d like to give a huge “Thank you!” to Half Shy for agreeing to participate in this interview; she really was quite amiable! If you’d like to hear more of her music, check out her website and her Bandcamp. You can also follow her on Instragram here and on Twitter here. And of course, here is Half Shy’s awesome video of “Monster”.

[expectingtofly]

One Hell (Heaven?) of a Situation

2.6k

also posted on ao3

thanks to @callenofthenorth​ for beta-editing :)

15x20 Coda, Crack and Fluff, Jimmy and Kansas are in Heaven

I have no good explanation for this. I was in the middle of writing a "serious" coda... then the stuff about Jimmy and Kansas came out and this happened instead

Dean opened his eyes to a bright, blue sky.

“What the fuck?” he muttered, realizing he was lying on the ground outside. Sitting up, he looked around, trying to get his bearings, then everything came flooding back to him. The vamp mimes, that fucking piece of rebar, piercing pain—he looked down at himself and frowned. These were not the clothes he’d been wearing on that hunt. 

“Fuck,” he said aloud as it hit him. “I’m dead.”

Getting to his feet, he stared at the building he’d ended up beside. The Roadhouse? He thought his Heaven was setting off fireworks with Sammy. Then a familiar figure stepped out onto the porch and called, “Dean!”

“Bobby?” Dean asked as he approached the porch.

“What the hell are you doing here, boy?” Bobby asked, pulling him into a hug. “Thought you had several more years in you.”

“Yeah, well, bad luck.” He really was gonna have to come up with a better story for how he got here than death by glorified rusty nail.

Pulling away from Bobby, he looked at the lit windows of the Roadhouse. Was that "Dust in the Wind" playing from inside? “What memory is this?”

“It isn’t one.” Bobby clapped him on the shoulder. “Heaven’s completely different now. Jack changed everything. Everyone’s together, we can go wherever we want, do whatever we want.” He gestured to the Roadhouse door. “Turns out that means a lot of parties inside.”

“Shit, alright.” Dean smiled. “Way to go Jack.”

“Wasn’t just his idea, though. Castiel helped.”

Dean’s heart skipped a beat, or would’ve if it was still beating. He stared at Bobby, afraid he hadn’t heard him right. “Cas  helped?”

Bobby grinned. “A week ago, or something like that—time passes strange here—Jack showed up and introduced himself. Brought Cas with him.”

“Wait, wait, wait,” Dean interrupted. “A week ago? What the hell? Why didn’t Jack bring Cas down to Earth? Sammy and I, we were going crazy—” He cut himself off. He didn’t want to remember his last days on Earth. The way he and Sam had poured through books of lore, trying to find a spell, something, anything, to bring Cas back. The long, sleepless nights, the way his eyes burned as he scanned yellowed pages, the fear that they might never get Cas back, that he might never get to give Cas a reply… Even after defeating Chuck, returning to run-of-the-mill monster hunts, nothing had seemed normal. Nothing had seemed right.

“I don’t know,” Bobby said, frowning. “Cas said he had work to do here first. He’s inside—”

The words hadn’t left his mouth before Dean was wrenching open the door to the Roadhouse and rushing inside. Calls and greetings rose around him, but he couldn’t pay them any attention, too intent on scanning the room. 

There, in the corner, sitting at a table near a stage where a band played. The angel he never thought he’d see again. “Cas!” Dean called and rushed forward. 

A woman at the same table nudged Cas’ shoulder, and Cas turned from watching the band. His eyes met Dean’s, then widened, and a look of horror crossed over his face.

“Wait, wait!” he exclaimed, lifting his hands up in defense, and holy fuck—Dean skidded to a stop in front of the table, the words, I love you on his tongue. That was not Cas’ voice. And the man in front of him was not Cas.

He was Jimmy.

Dean stared at him, the joy and relief that had urged him forward giving way to shock and disappointment. If he’d paused for one second before running over, he would’ve realized in an instant that the man in front of him wasn’t Cas. There were several giveaways. For one, the polo shirt and khakis Jimmy was wearing. Two, his arm around the woman sitting in the chair next to him—his wife, Dean was assuming.

“What the fuck are you doing here?” Dean managed, realizing he’d been staring with his mouth open. He shut it and tried to not look as betrayed as he felt.

“I live down the road,” Jimmy said, looking affronted. “Well, not live, because I guess we’re all dead—”

“Where’s Cas?”

“He’s, um,” Jimmy rubbed the back of his neck and looked around the room. “He was here a moment ago, but I don’t know where he went.”

Dean blinked at him, then turned to scan the room. “Anyone seen Cas leave?” he called desperately. He got a mixture of noncommittal sounds and shrugs. Just his luck. The one time he was finally ready to tell Cas how he felt, and Cas was nowhere to be found.

Bobby reached his side. “I see you’ve met Jimmy. Again.”

“Yeah.” He stared at Jimmy, who shifted uncomfortably in his seat. “This is one hell of a situation.” Which was ironic, considering he was in Heaven right now.

“It’s not my fault!” Jimmy protested. “I wasn’t expecting Castiel to show up looking like me! Besides, I thought angels didn’t go to Heaven when they died.”

“Well, Cas is special,” Dean spluttered. “He gets to keep his vessel, I guess. And if anyone deserves to be in Heaven, it’s him.” 

Tearing his eyes from the imposter, he turned to Bobby. “What the hell is going on?” he muttered. “Why is Jimmy in my Heaven?” It wasn’t that he hated the guy; it was just incredibly difficult to look at him—Jimmy having the same face as Cas and all.

“Like I said,” Bobby explained patiently, “it’s not  your  heaven. It’s everyone’s. Case in point, your dad has a house not five minutes from here.”

“Fuck.” Sam was gonna  love  that. “Wait.” He scanned the room again, slower now. There was Ellen, Jo, Mrs. Tran—fuck, he was gonna have a lot of explaining to do about Kevin. “Where’s mom?”

Bobby grimaced. “Her and John split up, pretty hairy situation. She’s doing well now, though, much better off without him. Do you know a stuck-up British guy by the name of Ketch?”

“You’re joking. Not him and mom… Together?” Bobby nodded and Dean swore under his breath. “This place isn’t what I was expecting at all.”

“If I might add,” Jimmy spoke up and Dean looked at him. “Castiel has been creating quite the disturbance since he got here. Heaven was… peaceful before him. Not so much now.”

“What’s he talking about?” Dean asked Bobby.

“Well, turns out Cas isn’t such a fan of John—” 

“He nearly started a fight!” Jimmy interjected. “This is Heaven, for Heaven’s sake!”

Dean couldn’t help but grin, and Bobby returned the smile. “Come on,” he said, leading Dean away from Jimmy. “Cas will turn up soon enough. I’m sure Jack will too. There’s a lot of people here who are happy to see you.”

“Right, yeah,” Dean said, trying to hide the fact that, at the moment, the only person he wanted to see was Cas. He let Bobby lead him to the bar where Ellen smiled and waved at them. “Icarus-Borne on Wings of Steel” filled the air and he frowned. That sounded pretty good for a cover band. 

He glanced at the stage and stopped in his tracks. “Is that… Kansas?”

Bobby nodded. “They all died when their tour bus crashed. I would say it’s a shame, but I’m enjoying the live music too much.”

Dean shook his head in disbelief. First Jimmy, now Kansas. Heaven was… interesting, to say the least. Overwhelming was another way to put it. If only Cas would show up, he could start to appreciate it all. 

Cas? he prayed silently. I’m here, buddy. I wanna… I wanna see you. He waited for the sound of wings, but none came, and disappointment sunk in his chest.

He made his way through the Roadhouse, greeting old friends, making up a badass story for how he died—thirteen vamps, an epic car chase, and liberal use of his grenade launcher—but his smile felt forced. Where the hell was Cas? Maybe he was angry Dean had stayed silent during his love confession. In Dean’s defense, Cas had thrown a lot at him all at once. He’d been in a state of shock for days after. Even now he wasn’t completely sure he hadn’t dreamt the whole thing up.

“Jimmy,” he called, returning to the table. He caught the way Jimmy rolled his eyes before looking up at him. 

“Yes?”

“Cas, he’s been alright, hasn’t he? I mean, did he, um, has he said anything about me?”

Jimmy’s eye twitched and his wife laughed. “What has he not said about you—that’s the real question,” she answered. 

“He won’t shut up,” Jimmy added. He gestured to Kansas, to the bar. “All this, it’s been for you. Giving Kansas a gig here, the free, unlimited liquor. He acts like he’s designing Heaven for everyone, but it’s painfully clear it’s all for you. He even brought in the Impala, which he won’t let anyone near, by the way.”

Baby was here? Obviously. She was as good a car as cars got. Of course Cas understood that. “So, he’s not mad at me?” he pressed.

Jimmy let out an exasperated sigh and looked at his wife. “This is the nonsense I had to put up with, the whole time Castiel was possessing me.” He looked back at Dean. “No. Not that I know of. Did you two really not get together on Earth? After all this time?”

“We’ve been busy,” Dean protested. “Saving the world, defeating God—we haven’t exactly had time for heart to heart talks.” That wasn’t strictly true, but the truth wasn’t something he was proud of. All these years and he’d never worked up the courage to tell Cas how he truly felt. But now he had a second chance, if only Cas would show. 

“Well, hopefully you two can talk it out soon because if I have to see Castiel stare at you longingly across the room one more time, even if it’s not through my own eyes anymore, I’m gonna request a transfer to hell.” With that, he turned back to his wife, and Dean stammered for a snarky retort. Unable to come up with one that preserved the last shreds of his dignity, he slunk away.

Joining Jo and Charlie at the bar, he listened as Charlie told him about the recent larping tournament she had organized. He paid attention, nodding and laughing at the right moments, but his eyes kept searching the room for any glimpse of a trenchcoat. 

The door to the Roadhouse opened and Dean turned expectantly, his heart racing. Rufus raised a hand in greeting as he stepped inside and Dean sighed. 

Please, Cas, he prayed. I have so much to tell you.

His eyes returned to Jimmy again. Same hair, same face, same eyes as Cas. But so different. So human. Cas, though… Cas was gorgeous—the way he stared at Dean so intently, the way he carried himself, the way his eyes glowed with angelic strength, such blue eyes, and his hands, holy fuck...

“For Pete’s sake!” Jimmy exclaimed and Dean startled, realizing he’d been staring for who knew how long. Jimmy jabbed his finger at a door on the back wall. “He’s hiding in there.”

“W-What…?”

Jimmy looked heavenwards—well, at the ceiling—for a long moment before meeting Dean’s eyes. “Castiel panicked when he heard you were here, something about not expecting you so soon—”

Dean stopped listening, already shoving his stool aside and rushing to the door. The doorknob didn’t budge so he knocked. “Cas? Cas, are you in there?”

A long pause, then a muffled, “Yes.”

Dean leaned closer to the door to hear better. “Cas, what the hell, man? What are you doing in there?” He waited for a response, but none came. “Cas?” he pressed, afraid the angel had flown the coop.

The door opened slowly, and Dean took a step back. Cas stood with one hand on the doorknob, an embarrassed look on his face. “Hello, Dean.”

The sound of those familiar words, in that familiar voice, made Dean weak at the knees. He forced his voice to be steady as he said, “Hi, Cas.”

Cas studied him. “You died so soon.”

Dean huffed a laugh. “Yeah, sick joke, right?”

“How did it happen?” Cas started to ask, but Dean waved his hand. 

“Not important. The better question is, why have you been avoiding me?” His voice faltered at a sudden fear that he wouldn’t like the answer. Maybe Cas had had too much time to think since the night he died, maybe he was regretting everything he’d said, maybe Dean’s silence had spoiled the moment—

Cas ducked his head, studying his shoes. “I wasn’t sure… I never expected to see you again. I thought my death was final. Then Jack awakened me and brought me from the Empty, and...”

“And?”

“And I wasn’t sure how you would react to my reappearance.” Cas raised his head to meet Dean’s eyes. “I said a lot of things before I died, and I don’t know how things stand between us now.” 

“Then let me speak.” He glanced over his shoulder to see everyone watching them. In all the times he’d pictured this moment, he’d never imagined having an audience, let alone background music courtesy of Kansas. But he’d be damned if he went one moment longer without telling Cas the truth. 

Focusing on those blue eyes again, he took a deep breath and said, “You were wrong.” Cas frowned a little and Dean continued, “You  can  have me. I love you, Cas—have for years now. I just never… I never knew how to say it.” Cas watched him, face serious, eyes intent. So undeniably Castiel. “I love you. So goddamn much. Please say it’s not too late. Please tell me you’re not having second thoughts.”

A smile slowly spread over Cas’s face. “It’s not too late, Dean. I’ll always love you.”

Relief rushed over Dean. Before he could think twice about it, he stepped forward, grabbed Cas’ tie, and pulled him in to kiss him. He felt Cas’ hand rise to his cheek, then Cas was kissing him back and people were cheering, but Dean ignored them all, wrapping his free arm around Cas to pull him closer. 

“I thought you didn’t love me back,” Cas whispered, pushing his forehead against Dean’s when they broke apart after seconds, or maybe years. Time in Heaven was different, after all.

“I can’t believe you hid in a closet to avoid me.”

Cas laughed a little. “Not my finest moment.”

“I almost confessed my love to Jimmy; I thought he was you.”

“Oh, yes. I suspect his being here is going to cause some confusion.” Cas pulled away to frown at Jimmy over Dean’s shoulder. “And he was not supposed to tell you where I was.”

Dean laughed. “I’m just so glad you’re here.” He kissed Cas again, deeply, slipping his hands under the worn fabric of the trenchcoat. Cas’ fingers slid along his neck and in his hair. Finally, after so long...

Though his mind was spinning, he caught Jimmy’s voice rise above Kansas playing “The Wall,” “First I had to hear all of Castiel’s thoughts about Dean while he possessed me, now I have to share a Heaven with them—”

“Get a room!” Jo called. Dean waved her off as Cas pulled him into the supply room. He’d make a comment later on the irony of hiding in a closet. Right now, he nearly tripped over his feet in his haste to keep kissing Cas while fumbling to pull the door shut behind them. Time to start enjoying the afterlife.

Tag List

@becky-srs @xojo @marvelnaturalock @cas-you-assbutt-dean-needs-you @aelysianmuse @prayedtoyou @letsjustdieeveryone @spookyskeletonsandallthezombies @good-things-do-happen-dean @misha-moose-dean-burger-lover @theninthdutchessofhell @famouspsychicpizzabandit @madronasky

Let me know (message, ask, comment) if you’d like to be tagged in my other destiel fics or removed from the list :)

[thebigqueer]

👉👈 if you wrote the whole I just delivered a baby feel my hands interaction from Will's perspective I would love you forever

okay, i specifically had to read this scene again and let me tell you, i high key cringed because i just remembered how kinda bad the ending of blood of olympus was alskjskfdkfsd

anyway, i hope you love me forever because i will definitely be granting your wish. thanks for the prompt, and i hope you like this! 

and, as always: i usually do minimal editing on these, so please don’t judge my writing too much alskjjlkdf

Will will admit, the morning has been quite an adventure in itself. 

It started when his cabin awoke with the cries of a distressed Clarisse, who slammed open the door of the Apollo cabin at exactly 3:43 AM and screamed at the top of her lungs, while also banging pots and pans, “THE BABY IS COMING! THE BABY IS COMING! William Andrew Solace, GET your ass over here!” 

In all his life, Will’s cured lots of sicknesses and injuries. But never has he had to take care of a woman giving birth. 

All in all, he thinks he did pretty well. Save for the almost-fainting part of the birth, he got the baby delivered perfectly healthy and relatively easily (although he’s sure Mellie would disagree), and Coach Hedge was there to even see it. 

After handing over the child, the exhausted son of Apollo, savoring the sweetness of the new family’s moment, smiles and excuses himself. He's sure he is going to pass out any moment from both tiredness and excitement, and he is ready to recount all of the past two and a half hours to Cecil and Lou Ellen. 

He steps out of the infirmary, surprised by how much lighter the sky has become. The sun rises, spreading its golden glow over the camp, and he has to shield his eyes from the brightness. Despite the beauty, though, there’s a dread that’s settled over the camp, a nervous electricity that has demigods buzzing left and right.

Demigods trudge to Half-Blood Hill, decorated with armor over their bodies. Will frowns, his own heart thudding faster. He can’t quite believe there’s another war about to happen, in just a little bit, after just barely surviving one last summer. 

With a jolt, Will remembers the lives lost, the people who’ve slipped from his grasp in the last battle. His face burns with the shame of losing them, of failing them. Why couldn’t I have done better? he scolds himself. 

With the prospective battle, he feels an even larger weight on his shoulders, the mass of stress crushing him. He feels as if he is Atlas, carrying the bulk of the universe on his body, doomed to serve this job for the rest of eternity.

The pressure of tears and anger presses against his throat, threatening to let loose. He swallows, trying to suppress it, but he can feel himself failing at doing so; his body shudders, his fists clench. He wants to drop to his knees and sob right here, right now. He’s so useless to everyone here. He’s failed so many people. How many will he fail today? 

A voice calls his name from the distance, and for a second, Will stops thinking about all the horrors he’s seen. He turns his head in the direction that he heard the voice, but he can’t seem to find it. He frowns. 

“Psst!” the voice calls again, and this time Will realizes it is clearly feminine. He swivels his head to the bushes in front of him, and almost screams when he sees eyes peering at him through the leaves.

For a second, he doesn’t recognize the faces that stare back at him. Only after he rubs his eyes does he realize that it’s Lou Ellen and Cecil. A shaky smile wavers on his lips. “Hey, guys. What are you doing?”

The two wrestle out of the bushes, shoving twigs aside. They rush over to the son of Apollo, excitement plastered over their faces. “Wanna help us scout the enemy?” Lou Ellen asks, her voice rising with enthusiasm. A mischievous sparkle twinkles in her eyes. “I’m practicing my Mist-controlling powers, and I think I’m getting pretty good.” 

Will looks at Cecil, who nods in encouragement. “Come on, dude. You’ve been in the infirmary all day. I’m sure delivering a baby is probably more exciting than us, but...” He shrugs, and a sadness envelops his face. “I guess we just don’t know how much longer we have. Don’t you wanna spend it together?”

Will’s heart clutches and his skin prickles with goosebumps. He looks at his two friends, people he’s known for so long. He realizes that Cecil’s right; they don’t know how much longer they have with each other. The realization hits Will right where it hurts. 

Taking a deep breath, he nods. “Alright, I could use a break. Let’s do it.”

~~~

Fifteen minutes later, Will, Cecil, and Lou Ellen are clad in black clothing, giggling in the bushes on the outskirts of camp. They watch the enemy wander around, setting up their equipment, shouting to one another. Peering at them, a spark of confusion consumes Will. They look like normal demigods; why are they warring, anyway? Who decided on this? Why can’t they just get along, share their similar stories? The entire thing is pretty pointless and sad, Will thinks, since they could have been friends. But instead, the two camps decided only on warring, setting their differences first and foremost. 

It’s a little disheartening, to say the least. Will knows that this is the nature of humankind, that people tend to only see differences. But they are demigods; aren’t they a little above humans? Shouldn’t they know better?

But even then, they still have humanity in them. And as ugly as humanity can be, it’s still humanity. This is what humans are like. People must learn to accept. Will only sighs at this thought.

As he mulls this thought over, Will, Cecil, and Lou Ellen skitter over to Thalia’s pine tree, hoping to get a better view of the Roman demigods. Their faces brighten under the rising sun, illuminating their faces. The warmth seeps through Will’s skin, sinking into his bones. He want to keep that warmth there, absorb the light. He’s afraid of the darkness that might come after the war. 

As they reach the tree, Will almost stops in astonishment. Because standing righ there, in a ridiculously bright Hawaiian T-shrit and black jeans, a Stygian sword at his side, stands Nico di Angelo. Will almost trips over himself. 

For a second, Will stumbles. What on earth is he doing here? Didn’t he leave camp? Didn’t he go rogue? Didn’t he leave Will here, in the very same place, on a morning much like this one, just a year ago? 

Cecil and Lou Ellen stop with him, confusion spilling over their features. “What’s wrong?” Cecil asks, nudging Will. “Dude, we’re in the light. Let’s go.” 

Will only shakes his head in response and hurries over to the son of Hades, a strange feeling sparking in his blood. Is it resentment? Is it relief? He’s not quite sure. All he knows is that he never thought he’d see Nico again, and especially not dressed like that.

When Will reaches him, the son of Hades doesn’t seem to notice he’s right there. His dark eyes are also focused on the Roman demigods, peering over them, oozing hatred.

“Nico?” Will whispers, his voice quiet in the morning. Lou Ellen and Cecil crouch by Will, peering over at him in surprise. 

Nico whirls suddenly, a look of fear in his eyes. He snaps his sword in their direction, just barely missing Will. The son of Apollo stumbles a bit, trying to jump past it. 

The son of Hades’ eyes focus, clearing up as he stares at the three demigods. His face betrays a series of emotions: first confusion, then shock, and finally irritation. He opens his mouth to speak, but Will snaps first. Gesturing to the sword, he hisses, “Put that down! What are you doing here?”

Nico blinks, surprise written over his face. Then he shakes his head and frowns at Will. “Me?” he asks, eyebrows furrowing. “What are you doing here? Getting yourselves killed?”

Will’s blood boils with Nico’s tone. Their first time meeting in over a year, and that’s how he’s going to talk to Will? The son of Apollo scowls. “Hey, we’re scouting the enemy.” Spreading his palms, he assures, “We took precautions.”

A dark eyebrow rises on Nico’s face, a look of doubt painting his face. “You dressed in black with the sun coming up. You painted your face but didn’t cover that mop of blond hair. You might as well be waving a yellow flag.” He rolls his eyes. 

Will’s face feels warm, the heat of humiliation coursing through his nerves. “Lou Ellen wrapped some Mist around us, too.” 

The two looked over at the girl, whose eyes were widened in surprise. Suddenly put on spot, her own face turns as red as Will’s. She greets Nico and tells him that the demigod next to her is Cecil, a son of Hermes. 

A moment of hesitation burns between the four demigods, waiting for the next move. Nico’s eyes switch over the three of them, deciding what to do, testing how great they are. Will puffs out his chest, a look of determination in his eyes. You know me, he wants to say. Don’t play this way. 

Finally, Nico kneels and asks about Coach Hedge and his arrival at camp, whether he got here safely. Despite his irritation earlier, Will allows a smile to come over his face at the mention of the satyr. Lou Ellen giggles, and Will nudges her, though a bout of elation envelops him, too. He smiles at Nico, assuring him that the satyr is fine. 

Nico asks about the child, a look of momentary excitement passing over his face. The smile on Will’s face widens despite himself, elated to talk about the new baby. “He’s fine, too,” Will promises. “A very cute little satyr boy.” His skin crawls again, but this time with the memory of the birth. He’d never seen such terrifying yet beautiful scenes in his life. A shudder echoes through him. “But I delivered it,” informs the son of Apollo, grimacing. “Have you ever delivered a baby?”

Nico frowns, a look of confusion and disgust rolling over his face. “Um, no.” 

Will shrugs and tells him that he just needed the fresh air; the mission with Lou Ellen and Cecil would help him. A grin takes over his face again as he announces, “My hands are still shaking.” He holds out his palms and blinks at them. “See?”

Without thinking, Will takes Nico’s hand. In hindsight, he probably should have considered how Nico would react, and how strange this interaction might be after not seeing each other in months, but he isn’t quite thinking. With the baby’s birth, the potential battle, and with Nico’s sudden appearance, can anyone blame him for feeling frenzied and dazed, with having practically no brain functionality at such an early time in the morning? 

A buzz echoes through Will’s palms, electrifying his nerves. His bones resonate, hum, emanate energy. He isn’t sure why this is happening; it’s as if being with Nico again, feeling his fingers in his, he’s unlocked something. For a second, Will sees and feels and hears nothing but the son of Hades. But then, just a split second later, he feels it: a cold, empty darkness, seeping from Nico’s hands. Will’s not sure anyone can quite feel darkness, so this is quite the strange interaction for him. He feels void, alone, as if no one is around. He almost pulls away when Nico does it first. 

“Whatever,” he grumbles. “We don’t have time for chitchat. The Romans are attacking at dawn, and I’ve got to-” 

Will frowns, but what else did he expect? Of course Nico’s going to want to move straight ahead. A buzz of annoyance echoes in him. He doesn’t like that he’s talking to them as if they don’t understand the seriousness of the situation. Before Nico can continue, he snaps back, explaining that they know what’s going on. He raises an eyebrow at Nico. “But if you’re planning to shadow-travel to that command tent, forget it.” 

A look of rage passes over Nico, darkness roiling in his irises. “Excuse me?” he growls, eyes glaring. Will feels that he’s pushed too far, too much, but he stands his ground. Nico just got back to camp; he’s not going to risk his life just for this. 

Will holds his chin high. With a look of determination, and as much bravery as he can master in front of the son of Hades, he informs him that Coach Hedge was very descriptive in his warnings of Nico and his shadow-travelling. “You can’t try that again.”

Nico’s jaw clamps hard, anger pouring in bouts. He watches Will daringly, as if saying, Watch me. “I just did try it again, Solace. I’m fine.” 

Will almost scoffs. If that darkness he felt just moments ago was any indication, the son of Hades is not fine. Rage boils over in Will’s body; why can’t he just understand that maybe there are people here who actually care that he doesn’t risk himself again? Why is he always the one to put himself in danger? 

And yet, he feels a connection to Nico. He knows what it’s like to want to push yourself to the extreme, especially if it means that you save the ones you love. And for this reason, he finds himself even more irritated in Nico. If they’re so alike, then Will finds him just as equally annoying as he finds himself. 

He rambles to Nico about how he can feel the darkness oozing from him, the risk he’d be making if he makes that jump one more time. As he does, he watches the son of Hades raise his eyebrow, not surprised, as if he knows what this jump could mean. With a jolt, Will realizes that maybe that’s what Nico wants - to not exist anymore. Red hot tears push against his throat, but he grounds himself. “You are not shadow-traveling. Doctor’s orders.” 

Nico opens his mouth and starts streaming excuses about the Romans, but Will won’t have it. He’s not losing Nico after only just now seeing him again. The son of Apollo assures Nico that they’ll take care of them, that it’ll be fine. Lou Ellen even has the Mist to control; they don’t need Nico risking his life. 

Nico looks as though he wants to argue, say something, but he chooses wisely to keep his lips sealed. Instead, he stares at Will, dark eyes bearing into blue ones. There’s a depth to them, Will realizes. It’s as if he’s seen terrible, dark things. He looks shattered; broken; cracked. Will’s body relaxes with pity, with remorse, but he stands his ground. 

Will’s been begging the gods for Nico to come back for months. He left with barely an explanation, leaving Will at the summit of Half-Blood Hill so many months ago, wallowing in his confusion. He won’t let Nico escape his grasp again, not when he’s only now returned. 

A fiery hot tension stretches between the boys as they stare each other down. Will knows Cecil and Lou Ellen are watching them, surprised. The boys hold each other in this strange staring competition, trying to get the other to relent. 

But Will’s stubborn, just like Nico is. There will only be one winner in this battle. 

Will won’t let Nico slip away again.

Nico sighs in exasperation, throwing his hands up. “Whatever,” he grumbles, and a wave of white hot elation washes over Will. Relief consumes him. He won’t be shadow-traveling, Will thinks, relaxation taking over his body. 

Nico continues glaring at Will, but the son of Apollo doesn’t even care. Nico juts his chin forward, and dark wisps of hair fall into his eyes, fluttering over the dark brown irises. “You’ll follow my lead.” 

Will smiles, relishing the win of the silent argument. He spreads his hands in a placating gesture. “Fine. Just don’t ask me to deliver any more satyr babies, and we’ll get along great.”

[ms-demeanor]

You're right, George is more than his abs, but why would he need to be nearly naked the entire movie though? "some characters briefly objectify George but the *film* does not treat George as an object." Ok, but why THIS distinction never made when talking about the male gaze? What I mean is, how is objectifying George any less sexist than Megan Fox's character in Transformers? They both have character beyond looks and both subvert gender tropes.

Why would he need to be nearly naked the entire movie though?

It is obtuse of you to pretend that George of the Jungle is not clearly a children’s comedy interpretation of Tarzan. That’s it. That’s the joke. Me Tarzan, You Jane. Me Handsome Strong Jungle Man, You Smart City Lady. When George makes it to the city he looks pretty darn good in Armani and happily wears a dress because it’s comfortable. When he’s in the jungle he’s dressed like Tarzan because this movie is based on a cartoon that is a children’s comedy interpretation of Tarzan.

It’s not like there’s a rash of criticism of Blue Crush for featuring women in swimsuits or Bring it On for putting girls in short skirts because in the context of the films swimsuits and short skirts are relevant and appropriate. There HAS, however, been a lot of mockery and some serious criticism of Marvel for putting Chris Evans in uncomfortably tight clothing with no purpose other than showcasing his body. “Steve Rogers can’t buy clothes that fit and all of his shirts are too tight” is actually a major fanfic trope because of that.

"some characters briefly objectify George but the *film* does not treat George as an object." Ok, but why THIS distinction never made when talking about the male gaze?

It is. Constantly. It’s the second sentence of the Wikipedia entry on “Male Gaze.” That’s a constant feature of academic media criticism. Here, have a video about how the framing and direction of Michael Bay in Transformers objectifies Megan Fox in a way that the film’s script does not:

That’s a whole video about that distinction.

Fox’s character in the first Transformers film was written as a hypercompetent, intelligent, complex woman. People remember the character as tits and ass because that’s what the camera reduced her to. 

Think about Ellen Ripley.

Did you think about her in a Powerloader? Did you think about her holding a flame thrower? Did you think about her in her jumpsuit calmly trying to enforce quarantine and protect the entire ship?

You probably, on reading the name “Ellen Ripley” did not think about her like this:

[Image description: Ellen Ripley wearing revealing underwear in front of a bunch of computer consoles and pipes; if you look very closely it is possible to see that the pipe behind her is not a pipe but is actually the alien Xenomorph curled up and camouflaged by the console]

The underwear scene stands out in Alien. It’s unusual, given the way that Ripley has been framed in the rest of the film. In the underwear scene Ridley Scott uses the framing of Ellen Ripley as a sexual object to 1) distract the viewer from seeing the xenomorph that is right behind her and 2) increase the character’s vulnerability to ratchet up tension in the film’s climactic scene.

This is an example of the director taking advantage of cinematic language to use the audience’s gaze against them and it is very well done.

That is very different than the way that Fox’s character (Michaela? I think? Someone who is so objectified that it is difficult to remember her name in spite of the fact that “Sam Witwicky” is almost obnoxiously hard to forget) is sexualized and objectified in Transformers.

But even Bay makes use of this! WHILE he is busy objectifying Fox as a director we also see the way her character is the subject of Sam’s gaze and the audience is STILL set up to be sympathetic to Sam because we’ve seen Michaela’s boyfriend objectifying her in a much more overt way than Sam does.

What I mean is, how is objectifying George any less sexist than Megan Fox's character in Transformers? They both have character beyond looks and both subvert gender tropes.

I mean, aside from the fact that I’ve already made the distinction that while some characters in GotJ objectify George the FILM does not, you know that just saying “This person is really hot!” isn’t itself objectifying, right? Michaela is a sexy prize that Sam is trying to win throughout the first Transformers film, George is a person who Ursula meets and takes on an adventure to the city and she gets to know and appreciate him as a *person* beyond his novelty as a “find” on her jungle excursion.

If Ursula spent the entire film attempting to seduce George by being sexy and ignored his wants and needs because he was just a dumb jungle man then yeah, it would be ALMOST as sexist as Bay is against his male characters. (Transformers goes hard as fuck at reinforcing “appropriate” gender roles and punishing characters who don’t live up to them and it is arguably more interested in gender policing its male characters than its female characters)

But you are asking me “isn’t this movie that you have repeatedly praised for modeling healthy masculinity sexist against men” and no? It’s not?

The fact that someone is naked and attractive is not in and of itself sexist.  A major, major part of the plot of GotJ is people (and the audience!) seeing that George is more than the silly beefcake they initially mistook him for and I think you’re missing the fact that most films that feminists criticize as sexist have female characters who are naked and attractive and have very few memorable traits beyond being naked and attractive and fawning over the protagonist.

Who here remembered that Michaela’s dad was a felon and that she has a record for refusing to testify against him? You probably remembered that she’s good at cars because Transformers is a movie about cars and there are at least two scenes where people expect Michaela to be bad at cars and she isn’t. So. Okay. Michaela is good at cars. DOES THIS EVER HAVE ANY IMPACT ON THE PLOT? She hotwires a truck in the climactic fight scene and it is window dressing as the background for Sam to make his heroic sacrifice. If you replace Michaela with a sexy lamp is the film any different? It wouldn’t stop Sam from being the target of the Decepticons, wouldn’t change the fact that Sam gets Bumblebee, wouldn’t change the conflict with the government, and wouldn’t change anything in the final battle. Michaela exists to be a sexy lamp for Sam to kiss after he’s won the movie.

If you make George a sexy lamp you don’t have a movie. Now! Obviously Michaela is not the protagonist of Transformers and George IS the protagonist of the movie made about him so it’s not a one to one comparison, but “could you edit this character out without it having a significant impact on the plot of the film” is a pretty decent test as to whether the film treats the character as a Person or as a Decoration.

Michaela is good at cars. She exits the Transformers series by getting cheated on after spending a movie trying to trap Sam into proposing. This is not the gender subversion that you’re claiming it is.

Michaela deserved a better movie than Transformers and Megan Fox deserved better than working with Michael Bay.

[certifiedceraunophile]

KLAROLINE FALL BINGO PREVIEW.

@eliliyah @klarolinefallbingo

Prompt: Dias De Muertos

Honestly the relevancy of the prompt comes far to late in the story but it’s there, kinda. But hey it’s there.

MASQUERADES

(CinemaAU)

Sometimes all she needed was to take a breather. A single moment. One pause.

Breathe in.

To collect her thoughts and emotions. To steady her bearings.

To state in a repetitive loop all the reasons why punching one Niklaus Mikaelson in the balls would be a marginally bad idea.

And breathe out.

Forgive her, but The man was infuriating. Okay?

And unashamedly so. Not a whit of genuine compunction behind that facade of ‘Inescapable Charisma and Unadulterated Allure.’

Definitely not her words.

Nope. No sir.

These were the words of a certain Greta Martin, editor-in-chief for the first October issue of People Magazine.

With one Mega-frustrating arrogant blonde blue-eyed dimpled asshat demon going by the name Klaus slapped to the front of said issue.

And Nope if anyone asks,

No, she did not literally just shred -In a shredding machine no less, because efficiency, thank you very much- the first copy of the magazine she bought, after reading the beginning eight lines on his exclusive, recounting what a ‘delightfully satisfying and marvellous experience the entire three months of shooting turned out to be.’

Ok one Black-hole sized pause right there please.

Thank you.

A single beat.

And....

The Absolute Fuck?!

She’s sorry. Marvellous experience?

Excuse her, but say what?

Breathe in. Breathe out.

Beg pardon but What?

Excuse her.

But Marvellous experience, as in, aggressive quotation marks scratching the air “Marvellous experience” is NOT how she remembers it.

The slap in the face obvious discrepancy to both their stories is definitely not blind to her.

He called 84 re-takes that lasted four whole hours for one eight minute long single-shot single-angle scene, Marvellous.

He called having ice-cold Whiteclaw thrown square on his face by a Absolutely-done-with-wild-gust-of-agitated-Blonde-Fury on the eighth day of set, Marvellous.

He called having two separate make-up artists downright quit after being unable to touch up her makeup every thirteen seconds because she ran her hand down her face in unbridled aggravation every time her eyes landed on him, Marvellous.

He called the same experience where, she had to literally rush out of a set, under the ruse of a bathroom break, Twice in the course of three months, so that she can peacefully go through the motions of a rage-fueled emotional meltdown, complete with angry frustrated tears and a relentlessly colourful diatribe, cursing every man in her life who bore even a sliver of resemblance to the stormy-blue-eyed spawn of satan that was her co-actor, Marvellous.

God. How the hell did he possibly think he could get away with this,

How did he think he was going to smooth over the transparent inconsistencies between her interviews and his, without raising at least a few confused questions from bloodthirsty intuitive fans and the Press in general.

Given how her talk-show interviews and magazine exclusives gave the steady image, that

1. Klaus Mikaelson is a dick and a half, with an overgrown ego so ginormous that even the entirety of Tinseltown is ‘plainly restricting of his nonpareil talent in histrionic execution.’

2. Klaus Mikaelson is an arrogant narcissistic asshole that Hast pronounc'd upon his brethren yond this day f'rth that gent shalt with ev'ry smidgen of purpose in his life striveth to be the Unrivalled Bane of Caroline Forbes’ Existence.

3. The process of Creating the undeniable tour de force Masterpiece that was ‘100 years of solitude.’ The newest Christopher Nolan Direction and Production in theatres right now, that already has definite Academy Awards Nomination in the talks, was anything but Marvellous. She admits, It was so so gratifying and made her heart full with a sense of accomplishment and satisfaction, that left her giddy with such lighthearted contentment for days, after the phenomenal response it garnered post-premiering, Yes. But that does not capsulate how frustratingly tiresome and emotionally debilitating the entire creation process was. Hell it was downright painful at times.

4. Would she voluntarily take another movie with Klaus Mikaelson as a Co-star alongside her? You can get back to her when the sun starts to rise from the west and the answer would still be a definitive NO.

Now of course she wasn’t this brazen with her claims she knows how to be cute and classy and concise.

But she definitely did not mitigate the truth of her statement, she’s had enough training with her PR department to know what to say and how to say it but she’s sure that nobody had been able to overlook her less than companionable remarks about Klaus.

For example

The Stephen Colbert Show:

Stephen: “So Caroline tell us about the process, the Making of it, how everything fell into place like tiny puzzle pieces to reveal at last this grand, Grand Picture.”

“The process? Well the process was certainly not...pretty...but after every time we finished a scene, however small or inconsequential it may have seemed to the plot, there was this immense sense of ‘there-Done it. And done it well.’ ”

Jimmy Kimmel Live:

“Klaus Mikaelson, well my Co-star is um....eccentric at best.....”

Jimmy: “and at worst?”

“Well..... I guess” -hellish, heinously intolerable, a cruel mean bastard- “....Unyielding...?”

The Ellen Show:

“Well Klaus was a..... demanding partner and it took Herculean efforts to meet his exacting standards, but I can understand how that paid off so well on screen. The end result when I saw it for the first time, it damn well paid off.”

Ellen: “so he is absolved of his admittedly ‘uphill’ personality then?”

She laughs awkwardly,

“Ye-ah....No.”

followed by more laughter dissolving the painstaking grimace she’s trying to tamper down.

Oh and the worst.

The Late Late show with James Cordon:

During the ‘Fill Your Guts or Spill Your Guts’ segment

James: “So....I’m going to give you, let’s see, Ah there, the Bird Saliva.”

Caroline: “James!.... Damn it, you are so not making it into my good books, and....God. That’s just disconcerting I mean, How do they even, I don’t know... collect it?”

James: “Well there’s a whole process of harvesting it from the salivary glands and—“

Caroline: “Never mind! Nope. No need for the details, please, James, a lady’s delicate sensibilities are at stake. And unless the question is ‘what is your social security number?’ I’m not drinking this poison.”

James: “Now Caroline you wound me, I can assure you everything on this table is edible albeit being marginally unpalatable—“

Caroline: “Marginally?!”

James: “You should try the Cow’s tongue. It’s delectable.” Followed by a sagely nod.

Caroline: “Now I’m just intensely bothered. You’ve definitely lost all claim for a spot in my good books.”

James: “Ah well, speaking of staying in your good graces, here’s a question that will have you downing that Saliva in seconds.”

Caroline: “Hit me.”

James: “Well then, ‘Name Any one CO-star with whom you have worked with in the past that you would never volunteer to work with again.’”

Pause.

And the audience descended.

“Like I said, speaking about staying in your good books.”

Amidst the raucous screams, whistles and laughter, it didn’t even bother Caroline, the clarity and speed with which the name

‘Klaus Mikaelson’ flashed in the front of her mind, like a large Neon LED sign from a typical Vegas Nightlife scene.

It took her a total of three seconds to know that she was going to answer with his name because, well just look at that drink in front of her,

Sure if you bend over real low and squint in the right light it may look like a harmless Daiquiri, but a Daiquiri it was not.

No. This was Bird Freaking Saliva,

Come on, you can’t possibly ask her to put that in her goddamn mouth.

Like NO.

Just no.

So sue her for protecting her taste buds that are yet to experience many more exotic flavours and textures of food from all around the world.

But then again she can’t possibly outright just say “Oh that’s easy, Klaus Mikaelson.”

That’s exactly the kinda PR trouble she wants to stay above and definitely didn’t need to be wrung out dry by her Spitfire Mistress-of-Hell Publicist Katherine Pierce for.

(Who also alternates as her BFF, occasionally, mind you.)

So she puts on a good show, dropped her head in her hands, gave a healthy long groan, looked up and gave James her best wounded Puppy Dog eyes, to which he was clearly not immune to, judging by how he looked a touch chagrined, but the game was just as much as beyond his hands as it were hers,

She looked to the audience “You guys are so mean, it’s not even funny.”

And grumbled a bit more till everyone was laughing and pitching forward and back on their seat amused by the poor Blonde’s Dilemma.

So she looked up to the heavens as if to ask for some unknown deity for deliverance and guidance, and poised herself to drink,

Only to put the glass back down in the last second in a begrudgingly weak show of caving in, and blurted out reluctantly,

(She’s a glorious actor, she’s aware.)

“You know what, Nope. He’s just gotta deal with it, okay?.”

Deep breath

Or was it the audience taking a deep breath and holding it in,

“ItsKlausMikaelson,PleaseDontKillMe.”

Pause again.

And the auditorium transcended.

Well,

she handled that, pretty well, if she does say so herself you know.

Apparently Kat Disagrees.

Apparently She Blew It.

She blew it so hard she could’ve knocked down the third little pig’s brick house.

Ironic since she always envisioned Klaus as the Big Bad Wolf who huffs and puffs and just generally blows.

Apparently her little admission was a PR disaster.

And Kat was furious.

The two minute edited clip that encompassed the question, the reluctant grumbling and finally the confession was apparently now a viral video on all social networking platforms.

They were trending on twitter under the hashtag

#KlarolineUnrequitedLoveIsABitch.

But her admission to being generally averted on taking up Klaus as a colleague again was apparently only one half of the video,

The other half....

Well the other other half was Klaus with his personal confession.

God, it wasn’t even a confession,

it was a—a Mockery, yes that’s it, a Mockery,

Of Her, no less

Basically Here’s the run down of the second insidious half of the video,

Klaus sitting in front of Graham Norton, in all their British glory, going live on The Graham Norton Show,

when asked about Caroline Forbes, his “partner” on scene has the audacity to let out this evil little amused huff and say:

“Caroline?” Another amused huff. “Well Caroline, Christ, where do I start? She’s an absolutely glorious presence on set. Her energy....it’s infectious, She hits you like a blonde hurricane of sunshine and snark and you’re just left staring up at the sun thinking, ‘you need to catch up mate, if you want to be half as bright and burning as her.’”

And Caroline thinks maybe this is the feeling of your brain imploding within the confines of the skull.

TBC

[r3b3lgrrrrrrrl]

A LunaTic and Her Gunn (Part 117 2xs2) "Internet Thangs"

Colson and Luna pull up to The Chateau Marmont. Colson steps out first, handing his keys to the valet. As another man approaches Luna's door he puts his hand up to stop him. Walking around, he'd rather open His Girl's door himself. Slipping out of the SUV, the somewhat notorious couple manages to walk inside, hand in hand without being bothered.

"Why are we here?" A slightly drunk and totally confused Luna asks.

"They usually film in NY, out here they book where we want. Ash or Jackie must've chose The Chateau... I'm not sure who booked this one." He shrugs out his answers as he leads her to room 29.

:::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::

Inside the room looks nothing like the hotel Luna's used to. Everything is draped in black sheets. It actually makes the tragic landmark a bit more gloomier, which Luna didn't think was possible.

"Hey, Colson! How are you?" Sean the host greets him. "This must be Luna, it's such a pleasure." He grins as he stretches his arm out.

"Thank you for having us." Luna accepts his hand warmly, still not knowing what the fuck Colson has gotten her into; all she knows is that there's supposed to be wings and she's starving.

"We're all set up. Make yourselves comfortable and we'll start in 10... Sound good?" Sean confirms to Colson's nod and Luna's look of uncertainty; this is Colson's third time, Luna's never have I ever.

:::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::

"Welcome to Hot Ones, Everybody!" Sean greets the camera. "We've got a special couple's edition here today with some self proclaimed Bad Things. I'm talking with Machine Gun Kelly and if you don't mind my saying so, his STUNNING girlfriend THAT Brooklyn Bitch. They're both ruling the charts with their hit single Bad Things along with other collaborations like I Think I'm Okay and Nightmare." Sean now turns to them directly. "Guys, I've gotta admit, I've seen the music video, caught your performances on SNL, Ellen and GMA... Not a stalker but I might've also peeped a couple hot Insta pics and stories of you two... I have to say, they do not do justice to the amount of tattoos and bad assery, I don't know if that's a word but I'm making it one... That comes along with the two of you in person. Just looking at the you, I wanna peirce my nose, buy a fender and find a hardcore chick to rule The World with!" He laughs nervously as Luna gives him an weird look; in her drunken mind, he's an odd, little man.

"Do it! Live the dream, my Dude!" Colson encourages him with a chuckle.

"Don't tempt me, I just might." Sean wishes. "Okay, so lemme give Brooklyn a little insight... We've got ten wings. Ten types of hot sauce raising in intensity with each wing... And one question to go with each wing and sauce." The host explains.

"Wait, what?" There's that magic sentence again as Luna hears how each wing is contingent upon a question. "You told me hot wings... You didn't say anything about questions." Luna raises her eyebrows at Colson.

"Ten wings. Ten questions. Come on, we got this, Kitten." Colson sinks a firm kiss onto Luna's cheek.

"Not the way you eat fucking wings." Luna lowly snarks for only Colson to hear with an obviously unamused tone; she doesn't like to be blindsided.

"Okay, Round One... One wing, one hot sauce, one question. Beware they get hotter as we go. Don't worry though, we've got your water and your milk that you can refill at anytime." Sean begins to start them off.

"Hold on... Wait. What? What is milk and water? Are you... Are you children?" Luna slightly stutters in disgust. "If I'm gonna do this, I'm gonna enjoy it. Fuck this ballsack shit, lemme get a beer. Please." Luna asserts while finding herself asking the same stupid fucking question AGAIN as she tries to reel herself in.

"Fucking MILK??? Who the FUUUUUCK... Ugh... Shut up, Loons. Get your beer, eat your chicken, let Colson answer whatever questions and roll on." She tries to calm down and mentally prepare herself for who knows what besides chicken and beer. "They are REALLY trying to ruin two of my favorite things though." Luna can't help but still complain to herself, thinking of how much she HATES interviews.

***********************************************

Colson can't help but laugh at her. He knew today was gonna take a lot of patience and persuading, considering Luna's great love for interviews and all things The Internet. He's surprised she's held up this well so far. "SHIT!! I hope either Ash or Jackie screened these FUCKING questions." Colson's heart suddenly begins to panic.

"Heineken, please." The sound of Luna's voice breaks Colson's thoughts as he focuses on the secretive smile on her face.

"Alright, Penny Lane." He teases her as he squeezes her thigh and tries to drop a kiss on her lips.

"Unh Unh... Luna Smith, motherfucker." She declares with a slur as she ducks just out of his reach; reminding him of the first time he tried to kiss her.

Giving him a playful eye, she let's him pull her into his lap. Luna runs her fingertips along Colson's jawline as he dips his tongue inside of her willing mouth, lightly dancing together until he breaks away to only hold her by the lips; hands firm upon her ass as always. There's a sweet, sensualness to them as love and other emotions rush between their beings by just their kiss on the lips. Colson wraps his arms around Luna, both sighing upon his release as they rest forehead to forehead. Intimate words are exchanged between the two of them until Sean interrupts them after grabbing Luna a few beers. EVERYTHING being caught by the cameras. Slightly intoxicated, Luna doesn't even think to be aware of them like a fucking dumbass.

"Alright... Round One... Now complete with water, milk and beer." Sean rubs his hands together with a chuckle.

"Thank you." Luna lifts her beer graciously to his smiling nod.

"Starting us off, we've got Hot One's classic sauce. It's our garlic fresno edition so critique away." He suggests as they all bite into a leg.

Colson takes one bite. Luna's eating the fuck out of her chicken wing as always. Then dude starts asking questions and ruins everything.

"You two are getting married in like two weeks so I'm assuming you live together... How do you guys typically start your day off?" He is easily the most awkward interviewer Luna has ever encountered.

"We do." Colson answers after he swallows his bite; looking over at Luna whose still munching away, her chicken filled nod agrees with him for the moment. "We usually start the day by fucking and getting stoned. One or the other or both together. It don't matter which order as long as their together. Back to back. Fucking and stoning. Stoning and fucking." Colson clarifies himself as Luna almost snorts her beer and Sean tries to compose himself.

"I fucking love him." Luna's soul shines for Colson.

"Round Two... This is a shawarma sauce by Dawson's. Little spicier but not much." The host leads.

Colson takes one bite as expected. Luna's chilling. Eating fucking chicken. She can't talk if she has a mouth full of chicken.

"You've got this new album out, Hotel Diablo... What would you say is the most personal song on it?" Sean asks as he takes a sip of his milk.

"Glass House." Colson answers lowly; Luna hands him her beer, only slightly happy her mouth is preoccupied by delicious meat.

"Next we got Goat Rider by Angry Goat Company... " Sean begins to describe the next sauce.

"They should call Em that... " Luna says lowly as she looks up at Colson and tries to contain herself; his smirk only encourages her. "Because he's the angriest little GOAT of them all." She says in a tiny, childlike voice; it's Colson's fault she couldn't help herself as she dips her face into his chest to hide her giggles; he's just as bad as he covers her head and his own laughter with his arm crooked around her.

"God Damn, I fucking love her." Colson's heart glows with amusement from his Kitten's sense of humor.

"Hey... Hey... Hey... No secret conversations. Hot wings and questions." The host tries to redirect them.

"Alright, super chicken man." Luna announces as she comes out of her hiding spot. "What's next?" She asks as she grabs her third wing and chomps into it.

"Are you guys REALLY getting married at ESTFest?" He asks as Colson almost chokes on his chicken.

"Need some milk?" Luna asks sarcastically with a full mouth.

"Fuck you." Colson coughs out as he sips the milk. Luna almost chokes on her own chicken as she laughs at him. "See, that's what you get. Asshole." He calls her out after handing her, her beer and making sure she'll live.

"So ESTFest... ?" Sean goes on to remind them.

"Yeah... " Colson nods after he collects himself also. "During ModSun's set."

"What?" Luna asks Sean directly when he won't stop looking at her for an answer. "You see the ring." Luna wiggles her sparkling left finger in the air. "ACTUALLY... I got two." She grins like a spoiled little girl as she extends her right hand out. "THIS one is my favorite... " Luna declares as she admires it herself before she leans back against Colson, staring up at him with THAT One Look as she plays with one of her most prized possession.

"Is that a guitar string?" Sean asks with pure wonder.

"Is that the fourth question?" Luna asks with a teasing charm as she holds her hands together towards her chest, just underneath her chin.

"I like that you play hard ball." Sean chuckles nervously as he wags his finger at her, not wanting to let this question go. "I'll trade it in for Round Four's question as long as it's a two part answer." He bargains.

"Mmmm... Nope. Two questions. Two answers. Two chickens." Luna's unwilling to budge.

"Fine... Is it a guitar string?" He asks again with a tinge of disappointment but still wanting to know.

"Yes." Luna nods her head proudly as she answers and presents her hand back towards him again so he can fully study the work of love.

"Wow. That's really neat the way the wire is twisted around to reinforce itself." He observes in admiration. "Where did it come from? EXACTLY." He reframes the question.

"We were On Tour in Pittsburgh and Colson sporadically proposed to me in his dressing room after The Show. He made it with one of the strings off the guitar he'd used that night within like 20mins." Luna sweetly admits as she thinks back to those private moments.

"I just wanna say, for the record, One... The guitar that string came off of goes everywhere with me now. Has ever since... Actually I don't think I've used another electric since that night." Colson looks over at Luna, who shakes her head to agree with him that he hasn't. "And Two... I had that rock for a few weeks but my dumbass left it behind when we hit The Road." Colson points out.

"Annnnnnnnd I love them both." Luna coos as she pecks Colson on the side of the mouth. "Now can I see why this goat is so angry?" She asks as she shoots him a grin and grabs her chicken leg.

"Alright, where are we at?" The host struggles to regain control of his show.

"We're at you owe me another hot wing because we gave you two answers." Luna reminds him of their deal as she splashes the sauce from the next bottle in line onto her fifth tiny drumstick. "You want any?" She asks Colson as she reaches over.

"Ahhh... Just a bit." He groans.

"You know Imma tell Slim all about this later tonight, right?" She chortles at him lightly. 

"I fucking hate you." Colson chuckles at a munching ass Luna while he reaches for her beer.

"So... Round Six?" Sean asks as he weakly throws his hands up to their nods. "We've got Scorpion from the Heartbeat Hot Sauce Co. Now we're climbing up the ladder guys but Brooklyn, you've eaten all of each of your wings. The only other person to do this is Shia Labeouf. Think you can you keep up?" He asks her as if it's a test.

"This motherfucker is DUMB." Colson snickers to himself at the idea of anyone challenging Luna.

"Hold up, I have some questions. First off... What do you mean only one other person has eaten all their wings? What the fuck do they do with 'em?" She asks, feeling kinda offended by the lack of chicken respect on this Internet Thang that Colson has her involved in.

"Most guests usually take a small bite of each wing." He explains to Luna's look of horror.

"Why did you ask me if I can keep up? Did you run out of chicken and beer?" She genuinely asks around the sexist insult to his head shake.

"She's such a fucking bitch." Colson thinks in amusement as he watches Luna. She is his favorite person in The World, especially when it comes to her level of IDGAF.

"Okay then, let's eat and answer questions." Sean simply requests as he takes a healthy bite. "What's the craziest thing you two have done together?" He asks once he's swallowed.

Colson takes a drink from the beer he's now sharing with Luna, mentally refusing to sip anything else after she made fun of him. His insides are dying. Luna's having the time of her life like she's the Abba Queen of hot wings as she wipes her mouth after fucking up her latest victim. Both of them are on totally different waves lengths but when their eyes meet for the question anything drops away and everything makes sense.

"The craziest thing I've ever done with Luna is fall in love with her almost 10yrs ago simply by her presence and smile." Colson grins as he looks down for a moment. "I think I might've even described it once as a cosmic boner." Colson lightly laughs to himself as he looks up into Luna's welling eyes and they lightly giggle together at the reality of their love; she covers her mouth to slightly to muffle her happy whimpers.

"Yeeaaah... We've done some crazy shit but none of our foolish antics compare to the risk that we're taking by starting a life together." Luna answers sincerely as her breath catches and her eyes never leave Colson's.

"More wings for Round Seven?" The host interrupts their intimacy again.

"Round Seven." The couple agrees before nodding studiously at each other and focusing on their wings.

"Round Seven we have Bourbon Habenero Ghost from Hellfire Detroit. Let's give it a go." He suggests as they each take a bite. "Best song on Hotel Diablo?" Sean hits them with a rapid fire question.

"AHHHHH... Fuck!! THAT'S hot!! Ahhhh... Ahhh... Bad Things!"  Colson shouts out his answer as he stands up and begins waving his bandana around.

Sean heads directly for the milk after one full bite, chew and swallow. Luna eats the whole wing. Then finishes her beer.

"Aww... Bunny." Luna coos with a smile as she lightly giggles and sucks her teeth. "Don't listen to him, he's hot sauce dumb right now. Col, get some milk... " She advises as she hands him the glass. "Hotel Diablo is bigger than just ONE great song." Luna air quotes. "It's a whole concept from beginning to end. I won't say which song I think is the best but I think when a song that is not only number on the Alternative charts but also number two in POP with a major lyric that stands alone about hurting oneself... " Luna's voice begins to quiver. "Than that means to me that millions of people are responding to and resonating with a certain kind of painful feeling... " Luna starts to become visibly emotional as she continues to speak. "And I think it's important to pay attention to that point because it's incredibly concerning that so many individuals in our society obviously relate in some kind of vulnerable way to the words of this song but we don't talk about ANY it. It's time to change our question. It's not what is the best song. It should be WHY is this the best song." Luna has tears rolling down her cheeks as she looks down in her lap to let them drop silently, leaving both men speechless.

"Holy fuck... I never thought of it that way." Colson stares at her while holding the empty glass of milk before making his way over to comfort her.

"Are you guys ready for Round Eight?" Sean gently asks as he sits back down with them after Luna's had a chance to pull herself together.

"Yeah, Man. We got this." Colson answers as he squeezes Luna's thigh.

"Okay... Round Eight... We got Beyond Insanity by Da Bomb and a direct question for Brooklyn. We ready? Bite!" Sean declares skipping his own wing to ask Luna the question mid chew. "Why won't you proclaim your birth name publicly?"

"What the FUCK was that?" Colson's bewildered by the question presented to Luna as he holds tight of her thigh and drops his wing as she speaks. "Just know I'm here, Kitten." Is all he can think as he stares daggers into Sean and Luna cooly rips the host a new asshole. 

"Do you know my birth name?" Luna asks as she slows down her chewing and stares through the stupid host. "Because I don't. It's not Luna Smith if that what you're suggesting. That's my legal name. Not my birth name. You should really do your research before you ask your guests personal questions... Or at least have them worded correctly." Luna advises icily as she finishes her wing. "We ready for Round Nine?" Luna asks loudly with an annoyed tone as she drops the chicken bone onto her full plate.

"Yeah. Let's do it." Sean continues uncomfortably. "This is called Chipotle Express and it's by PuckerButt Pepper Co... We may be rising in heat but we're gonna take it down a smidge in the questions... I know you've collaborated a few times but do you guys think you'll ever do anything like a full album or project together?" Sean asks as he bites into his wing.

For the first time Luna doesn't use her love of food as an excuse not speak. "That's probably the best question you've asked yet." She compliments Sean finally as she looks over at Colson's own turning wheels before choosing to explain. "Because it's the first one that I don't have an answer to because I never heard the question."

"I think what she's trying to say is as natural of a next move that you may think making an entire album together may be... It never occurred to either of us until the moment you presented the question... " Colson turns his head to stare at Luna with a loving smile; both knowing that they're sharing almost the same thought. "And now I can't stop thinking of all the other thousands of things we could create together. So thank you." Colson and Luna turn away from each other for a moment to look at Sean with gratitude.

"Do you guys believe in soulmates?" He asks his final question while caught up in the loving feelings between the couple.

"Yes."

"No."

Colson and Luna answer at the same time but with different responses. Different ideals. Different expectations. 

"What do you mean no?" He asks her with furrowed eyebrows.

"I don't. I believe in true love but I don't believe that we're only destined to love one person. I think different people are supposed to come into our lives at different points for different reasons for different amounts of time. If that wasn't my truth than I would've never been able to fall in love with you after Justin." Luna explains her logic to him as if they're the only two in the hotel room.

Colson's silent for a moment. Totally hating Sean and his hot wings. ESPECIALLY hating his stupid fucking questions. Deeply contemplating what Luna just said.

"But you do, MGK?" Sean asks him directly, interrupting his thoughts.

"Yeah. I believe I found my soulmate... And if not, I'll have her as my wife." He smiles coyly, never taking his eyes off of Luna as she watches him with adoration.

:::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::

"What were your other questions?" Luna inquisitively asks Sean after they wrap up taping.

"Oh! Uh... What do you think married life will look like for you guys and do you think you'll ever have kids?" He responds, slightly caught off guard.

"Life won't change." Luna smiles. "We're gonna keep on creating, traveling and being kind to The World as for... "

"You ready, Kitten?" Colson interrupts them as he slips his arm around Luna's waist. "Thanks again, Man." He acknowledges Sean before leading Luna away.

"We already have one... But maybe another one day." Luna answers his second question over her shoulder with a twinkle in her eye.

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

"Where are we going now?" Luna giggles into Colson's ear as he carries her piggyback style up a slight hill.

"You've shown me a lot of cool things, now it's my turn." He answers her as he gently sets her down in the evening glow of the dipping sun. "Here, lemme get that blanket." He asks of her as he takes the schoolbag from off of Luna's back. Stretching it out, he reaches for her once he sits down. "Lay with me, please?" He requests.

"Where are we?" Luna asks as she curls up next to his body.

"Just wait." Colson gently instructs as he lights a blunt.

On a quiet hill somewhere in LA, Colson and Luna snuggle up together in the warm summer's air as the sun falls off the edge of The Earth. The night's sky slowly creeping around them. Luna's breath catches in her chest as she takes in Colson's surprise. It's a WHOLE sky filled with stars.

"I knew you'd appreciate this." He smiles to himself as he kisses the top of her head.

"It's so beautiful... How did you ever find this?" She asks in amazement.

"Mod showed me one night when we were tripping. It's the ONLY place you can see the stars out here." Colson breathes in deeply as he pulls her closer.

They lay together pointing out what they think are different constellations. Debating what's a satellite and what's a star. Luna drawing out Orion's Belt as Colson shows her where he believes to be The Big and Little Dipper are.

"So you really don't believe in soulmates?" Colson asks Luna again under the cosmic sky.

"No. Not one. I believe we're destined to love who we love... And I love you, Bunny. What's the difference?" She asks him.

"I don't know... I guess I find the whole idea of belonging to one person to be comforting and romantic. It's like having a predestined home." The idealistic yet hurt little boy inside of him answers.

"Oh, Bunny... " Luna purrs as she snuggles closer to him. "I am your home. Forever. Married, not married. Soulmates, not soulmates. I know a lot of shit but there's not much I'm sure of." Luna admits. "I am sure that I've loved since I saw you but that I wasn't meant to truly meet you until I did." She places his hand in the middle of her breasts so he can feel her beating heart. "We are who we are for a reason and right now... Our reason is the only thing that makes sense or matters to me."

Colson grabs her chest with a firm lightness. Holding their feelings tightly inside of his large palm. After a moment he gently rolls his body so that he looms over top of Luna. Staring down at her, he brushes the random stands of hair from her face. Leaning on his forearms, he dips down to kiss her passionately. She runs her fingers along the sides of his face into the back of his hair as she pulls him closer and kisses him firmly.

Their touches are sweet and soft under the star filled sky. They slowly undress each other as their kisses linger on their bare skin. Colson and Luna stare into each other's souls as he fully enters her. Making them both shake from their pure feelings and emotions.

It's not often that Colson and Luna make love. They usually fuck the shit out of each other. Tonight they're not animals. They're intimate lovers, both taking their time. Dropping heartfelt I love yous into each other's ears as they softly pant and moan. Soulmates or not, Luna and Colson are in this shit called Life together. Forever.

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2Xs2

To be continued...

[amphtaminedreams]

Spring/Summer & Haute Couture Week 2021: Whoops, I’ve Missed a Loooot

Hi to anyone reading,

Where TF has the time gone!?

After experiencing the longest January of all time (when your birthday is right after New Year, you get that between Boxing Day before NYE slump like a couple of weeks after everyone else), February has gone by in, like, 5 minutes and already we’re well into the throes of the F/W 2021 collection presentations. Meanwhile, I’m here like! Surprise! Here are my reviews of the S/S 2021 collections if anybody still cares! I mean I’m mashing it up with corresponding haute couture week reviews to fool everyone into thinking that doing it so many months later was intentional and it was totally working right up until this sentence, right?

In all fairness, I originally thought that I wasn’t going to bother reviewing S/S21 because it seemed kinda redundant given the circumstances and I wasn’t keen on the idea of collections being showcased via photo sets which is the route so many brands chose to (understandably) go down. Buuuut, the more I saw of what designers had put out there, the more I was tempted to put this post together and now here I am. The fact that designers are even able to churn pieces out during a pandemic when I’m out here like 0__0 no thoughts, head empty...it’s impressive to say the least, especially the way so many used the circumstances to inform their designs. In a way, it would be a disservice not to do a post on the season, and yeah it’s late, but given that it we are actually about to enter spring and the shows are kind of the deciders of what’s going to be “in” and “out”, they’re more relevant than ever. With plans for our way out of lockdown materialising-now is the perfect time to add that I don’t want ANYONE suddenly developing selective amnesia over how our government has failed us now that Boris has announced when the clubs COULD reopen-let this post serve as a roundup of every bit of inspiration available for our spring fits. I also want to use this opportunity to disclose how irritated I am at myself for starting the previous fashion week reviews post by declaring I was going to work through the designers in chronological order when I meant fucking alphabetical because I now can’t go back and change that. So this time, let me start properly. I’m going to be reviewing the collections in ALPHABETICAL order. Now that’s out the way, let’s do it. First, Acne:

It’s so great to start on a high, it really is, and fortunately Acne is reliably good. It’s still got that deconstructed, minimalist feel that the brand is known for but for the summer season; we can see creative director Jonny Johansson and his team moving away from the heavier pieces we saw last time round, away from upcycled bohemian curtains and towards a breezier, more season appropriate aesthetic, boujee kaftans and swimwear rebelliously hacked up and artfully rearranged, and it feels correct. The net pieces, the beachy colour palette, the oil spill-esque print (though this represents an intruder of the marine ecosystem, as a print I loveee it and 100% want more!) and the accessories, reminiscent of shells, coral and anything else you might find on the seabed, give me a hipster mermaid washed ashore vibe which completely fits with that rugged, mysterious sense of Nordic folklore references and adventure the brand has established as its foundation. If it’s a nod to some kind of new age cult that Johansson was going for, which apparently is the case, I’m guessing said cult worship sea goddesses and perform pagan rituals on the beach by moonlight, and though indoctrination doesn’t sound at all inviting, it's a party compared to scientology.

The chiffon trousers here are actually chic and seeing them styled under a blazer makes me realise done right they CAN be more than just a PrettyLittleThing summer sale piece, so I’ll store that away for outfit inspo when the time to get rid of some layers comes around. The glasses, too, are very Gucci. Flip flops with socks I don’t think I can ever come round to but-

Whilst it was a favourite of mine last season and it sticks to that same bohemian vibe with a lot of the elements I love, Ferretti lacks a little oomph this time round; it’s more stripped back, neutral, easy-going, and it is lovely, but for those same reasons it doesn’t grab my attention as much as the past couple of collections have. If you’re an influencer wanting to shoot a Joshua Tree desert lookbook this is sublime, but compared to the flair I saw in their last winter show, for example, there’s something lacking.

I’m very glad to see neutral coloured boiler suits on the runway, however; I snagged myself one off Depop the other week so I might be unintentionally ahead of the curve for once! The crochet detail dresses are nice too but very much remind me of past Zimmerman collections, or an Ermanno Scervino grab for the most high street friendly parts of Erdem SS2020, something along those lines. What I’m trying to say is that it’s definitely been there done that, even by Ferretti themselves and not in a continuity kinda way, in a kinda…this is basic and pretty so we know it will sell kinda way.

Eurgh, I wanna be one of these Alessandra Rich girls so bad.

I end up repeating myself every single time because I always love her collections but really, this is what a high fashion novice thinks Chanel is. Alessandra Rich outsold. As much as her dresses have looked amazing on people like Kate Middleton and January Jones, I’m just waiting for one of the modern it-girls to take the nostalgia-tinged femininity of her pieces and put some kind of daring, street-style twist on it; if that doesn’t happen I’ll gladly take 5 minutes of fame so I can do it before fading back into obscurity. Let me fulfil my modern first lady fantasy, reenact the croquet scene from Heathers, drape myself on a chaise lounge whilst smoking with a cigarette holder, and then throw me back into the trash where I belong. I can die happy. Also, can we once again appreciate how much more iconic the Alessandra Rich two piece made the already moment Dakota Johnson singlehandedly brought down the Ellen dynasty?

Dakota knew exactly what she was gonna do and the energy that she was gonna channel when she wore that piece and I admire it. Alessandra Rich, if nothing else, will go down as a key moment in pop culture history, and you know what? It’s what she deserves.

Whilst I do wish she’d branch out a little and try and get back in touch with the dark drama of old McQueen collections now and again, Sarah Burton has made a very recognisable Alexander McQueen silhouette and it’s beautiful; this season is gorgeous as always. A leather biker and tulle affair that’s perfect for a grunge ballet, it’s easy to avoid lamenting the excitement and theatrics of old collections when Sarah creates such consistently sophisticated pieces. Stunning.

Now, a quick haute couture detour with Alexandre Vauthier:

Compared to other haute couture collections, this is pretty toned down and by appearances alone (I know haute couture is more about meeting technical requirements more than anything else but there is a level of grandiose you expect to see) is more like a RTW collection than its counterparts. That being the case, I don’t have a huge amount to say about this one, though I do really like it-the ruched metallic boots especially. The Studio 54 vibes and the glam rock influences are clear and a lot of these pieces could definitely make it into Lady Gaga’s AHS Hotel wardrobe which is a compliment of the highest order, so there ya go. Plus, if a collection IS gonna be presented through stills, a format like this is preferable to some of the others I’m gonna talk about. There may be more exciting ways of doing it but simple allows us to see the clothes properly and at the end of the day, that’s what I care about the most!

Heading back to good ole’ RTW, we have Altuzarra; I wasn’t hugely keen on their last collection but this is definitely a step up for me and justifies keeping them on my radar. Though in some ways this seems like less of a summer collection and more of a late winter/early spring transitional one on the basis it can’t seem to decide which temperature its catering to, there’s a lot to like: a colour palette that reminds me of a Dion Lee collection, harnesses evocative of those sprinkled throughout the last few Alexander McQueen shows, and more of the utility wear trend that I’m still very much into nicely contrasted against lighter, airier pieces for an overall fresh, modern vibe. The interpretive dancewear style pieces are interesting and the woven platform sandals are the shoe of the summer but the white shirt with the cape incorporated is definitely the high point of this show and I absolutely adore it.

Anna Sui was actually pretty cute this time round. Her pieces have always been kooky, but in the past a little too lairy and occasionally cheap-looking for me. This collection, however, is kooky in more of a Melanie Martinez styled baby doll kinda way, as opposed to in an eccentric Bjork loving aunt whose idea of heaven is an all-must-go Primark sale kinda way (I know some people are going to vehemently disagree with my aesthetic preference there) and I love that. There seems to be a lot more creative direction going on, a much clearer vision of what Sui wanted to achieve, and yes a few of the looks went a bit too hard on the cookie cutter vibes but on the whole, they were more edited than usual; it seems Sui actually paid attention to the “take one thing off before you leave the house” rule this time. The staging is the perfect compliment to the doily style bucket hats and the sandals paired with frilly socks, and really adds to the whimsy of the collection, and as a whole, it really reminds me a lot of the way my mum would dress me as a toddler but styled up for a grown adult. Cute AF.

Armani RTW I was pleasantly surprised by, considering I don’t usually rate it. It’s a cool, androgynous take on retro shapes and styles that’s simultaneously fit for the hustle and bustle of the modern world. Strong 2021 Peggy Olsen vibes, and a bit muted Lacoste-I can 100% imagine Elisabeth Moss as Peggy swanning around in one of those huge minimalist houses with the floor to ceiling windows after a long day at work, though we’ll switch the cigarette for a vape because...you know...welcome to the future. And sure, maybe the vision is slightly influenced by THAT scene from Us, but whatever. As for the men’s wear, if I have to look through an endless gallery of straight white men in plain ass suits every time I do some kind of red carpet fashion review, I at least hope they’re wearing Armani. I need me some impeccable tailoring to soften the blow.

I do wonder, however, how the clothes would look on plus size models. I feel like it’s a collection that’s very catered to a person who is straight up and down, and it feels like a bit of an easy cop out not to have any kind of versatility. Say what you want about Christian Siriano but he caters to all body types very well.

I actually quite liked Armani’s haute couture collection too; the pops of colour and the intricate embroidery give me what I’ll later talk about missing from Valentino haute couture. There were still some of the frumpier pieces that I usually associate Armani with but also a lot of Great Gatsby-esque looks that I really enjoyed.

Returning to RTW, Ashish was amazing. I LOVE that there’s always some kind of unique print (this time round, kitschy illustrations) and whilst a whole maxi swan print dress may not be the most wearable for the majority of us, Ashish Gupta does bold and innovative really well. There were a few boring striped pieces in there but I adore the one shouldered butterfly print dress and I NEED that Hail Satan jumper; it reminds me a lot of something by sustainable fashion brand Minga, which is one of my absolute fave websites to buy from when I’m treating myself to some new clothes.

Azarro’s haute couture collection is full of supreme awards show afterparty fits, and I was shook to find out that Olivier Theyskens is the brand’s creative director! My newfound obsession with his pieces really had me like :O when I realised he was behind Azarro too. I loved their collection last time round, though this I’m finding a bit harder to give much analysis on because of the way it’s shot; whilst it could be a YSL perfume Vogue ad, which is obviously far from a bad thing, it comes at the cost of lacking visual clarity. That being said, from what I can see, Theyskens once again masterfully channels the wardrobe of the effortlessly cool, messy haired, smudged eye make up rock ‘n roll girl, and I think that’s someone we all want to be.

Balenciaga RTW was an interesting one for me-on first inspection, I was kinda disappointed. Without the usual drama of the bold, exaggerated silhouettes and the theatrical production of their shows, I felt it was missing a bit of the magic I’ve come to expect from them. The streetwear elements infused throughout, a departure from their typical pieces, was very hit and miss; the shearling slip-ons in particular were not my thing at all. I’d be admiring some beautiful gothic dress and then my eyes would slide down and see those monstrosities and it would bring the whole thing down a notch or two, despite bad shoes being something I can typically overlook if I otherwise enjoy the rest of the outfit. My initial conclusion: that the Balenciaga Myrtle Snow would choose as her last words this collection.

However, upon re-evaluation when typing this post up properly and knowing what to expect, I like the collection a lot. I’m getting a bit of a Seoul streetwear vibe from it, and I can appreciate that although it is a lot more trend focussed, it’s got an edgy, daring quality to it, with a lot of androgynous, utility wear elements on show. I loveee the Balenciaga chokers too and in my wildest dreams would get my hands on one before it goes the way of the Gucci belt and gets overdone and flaunted by social media influencers as a show of wealth to the point of tackiness.

At Balmain the sculpted body armour made a comeback but on this occasion, not in a way that I liked, and there war far too many neons for my taste too. No matter how many times it rears its ugly head, I find it hard to get on board because as a colour palette I can’t help but associate with Claire’s Accessories circa 2007-it has to be SO well done to avoid looking cheap, imo, and these Balmain pieces weren’t good enough for me to go against that gut aversion. A collection with 100+ looks isn’t usually a good sign and expecting Olivier Rousteing to achieve the impossible and manage to do both quality and quantity is a recipe for disaster; it’s a shame because his last collection was so original and yet this one feels like a cheaper looking rip off of other brands. It was just a bawdy display of 80s overkill IMO and if I can only find 8 outfits to include out of 100 that’s clearly not a good sign.

Bottega Veneta is a brand that the high fashion side of the internet loves that I can never 100% get on board with; I get it, they’re behind the gorgeous square toed heels, but other than that none of their collections have ever really wowed me. The chunky knitted pieces are very Miu Miu style futuristic grandma chic and as someone on the cusp of being either a millennial or gen Z (depending on which website you visit) it’s got me outfit planning for my retirement years. Utilising so much wool for a summer collection, however, seems like a choice because can you IMAGINE wearing a heavy knit in blazing sun; I almost didn’t include the collection to be honest but then every so often something really cute came long, and one of the signature crisp, classic BV pieces would be done well and so I felt I had to. Am I missing something given all the hype here? IDK tbh.

Burberry? Meh. You could also call this collection how many ways can I do a trench coat, with results of differing quality; occasionally the mix match of styles worked and I saw the deconstructed outerwear concept that Ricardo Tisci was presumably trying to go for, though it can’t come as much of a surprise that the combination of a trench, denim and leather jacket was mostly just messy and came off as a last ditch attempt to make the classic coat more interesting by just chucking other fabrics at it and seeing what stuck.

One thing I will say is that there were some really sick prints going on-the snakes in particular-and it was those prints that were really the saving grace of the collection; as I said with regards to Ashish, I like it when you can tell a brand has gone out of their way to experiment with patterns and actually incorporate illustration and graphic design into their pieces. Prints notwithstanding, though, it wasn’t a memorable collection and I really can’t wait for the day we put this whole multiple denim jean waistband trend to bed once and for all; in the wise words of Regina George “stop drying to make multiple waist bands happen. They’re not going to happen.”.

Carolina Herrera was just as I expected. Whilst Wes Gordon was a little more daring with the structure of the pieces than usual, you can still he’s still committed to designing for the wealthy, modestly dressed socialite (yes I’m talking about Tinsley Mortimer and yes, I have recently become obsessed with Real Housewives) and her insatiable need to collect more charity gala gowns than she’ll ever possibly have opportunities to wear in her time on this earth. Sounds like a great life, sure, but it’s not like it gets my heart racing when I see the looks on the runway. The most memorable piece for sure was double breasted blazer w the asymmetric ruffle; I haven’t seen anything like it in a RTW collection in recent memory.

Now onto the fucking train wreck that was Celine RTW.

It’s not even bad for a runway fashion show, it’s just like…straight-up bad. Like Hedi Slimane went back in time to 2013, took a bunch of models into my local Topshop (and I have to clarify my local Topshop rather than the flagship Oxford Circus store-RIP-because to do the same in the latter would produce far better results), picked up some cheap basics, switched the lights off, and then, finally, dressed them in the dark. There’s very few positive comments I can make so I’m just going to move on.

Chanel RTW I actually didn’t hate as much this season; maybe it’s because coming from Celine, my standards are like, on the floor, but it’s slightly better than usual. Whilst most of it was same old same old, the opening 10 or so looks and then from 40 onwards were alright. The colour contrast pieces were classic Chanel in a good way, that is to say somewhat modernised and appealing to a younger clientele as opposed to the elderly women who still see a boucle jacket as the height of fashion. The mini chiffon capes were also cute, and if it weren’t for COVID putting pause on everything I can see the Chanel headband being duped ad infinitum.

The worst part of the collection was without a doubt the pieces with the neon logo print, which I wish I could erase from my mind. At this point, with Virginie Viard seemingly refusing to make any attempt to reinvent the brand, Chanel is best when it’s subtle; that way it appeals to those regular customers who rely on the prestige of the garment and the new generation of consumers who are further branching out into experimenting with their personal style and want a quality base. But who I ask are these tacky ass pieces aimed at? Because though it appears to be an attempt to infuse a kind of youthful spirit into Chanel, it is very out of touch with what gen Z actually like, and I can’t imagine any rich old white ladies buying them either. Big shoulder shrug.

Whilst I tend to find Chanel’s haute couture collections a bit better than their RTW, this is probably on par. Still rather meh and frumpy at times, but there were some pretty, whimsical pieces in there that were definitely elevated by the staging which, I must say, was very dreamy. I’ve enjoyed the last couple of haute couture shows a lot more (the one with the library set was v cool), which were comparatively restrained with the frivolous details and the chintz, so this seems a step back. The dresses with the 50s Audrey Hepburn for Miss Dior style silhouette are lovely but obviously, as per the reference, nothing new.

Onto something much more exciting, we have Charlotte Knowles’ RTW collection, whose work has made her one to watch. I’m not as huge a fan of this as her last instalment, but Knowles’ (who I recently found out only just graduated from Central Saint Martins, making her achievements all the more impressive) continues to create clothes for a girl far cooler than myself; I know, that wouldn’t be hard, but we’re talking like, miles cooler. One of those women who can literally pull anything off and immediately make you want to try it yourself even though 9 times out of 10 that would be a bad idea-I could probably take, like, one piece and make it work but anything more would most likely just be me embarrassing myself. You wouldn’t think San Fransisco psychedelic summer of love motifs would mesh with futuristic Mad Max style biker vibes but Charlotte and her partner Alexandre Arsenault make it sexy AF, like a combo that was always meant to be. They are a dream team.

And lastly for this post, we have another collection I really liked: Chloe. Sadly Natacha Ramsay-Levi’s last collection for the brand, she truly went out on a high note, with a reliably gorgeous iteration of her sophisticated take on bohemian style. Who now, will we look to when we want to cosplay as one of the Jessas from Girls of the world? When we want to pretend we’re a rich, party girl socialite backpacking across Western Europe (along the foothills of Mount Tibidabo…) on a commissioned trip to “find herself” for the fashion magazine column she’s writing, whilst we’re actually on a budget family holiday in Spain? When we can’t decide if we’re dressing like a modern day Rachel Green or Phoebe Buffay and say fuck it, I’m gonna do both? I mean sure, I could never afford Chloe anyway and sure, I’m interested to see what Gabriela Hearst can do with the brand, which despite its loveliness is quite predictable, but it’s definitely sad to see Ramsay-Levi go when she has become a reliable source of elegance and class each season. She brings a quietly confident brand of femininity to the fashion world where the high profile design houses are increasingly dominated by men who are sometimes too focussed on being bold and brash enough to be hailed as the newest design visionary, and I have huge respect for that. She will be missed.

Now it feels right to end the post here, given that I just finished with a kind of dramatic memoriam for a woman who is very much still alive and given that I would really be playing with fire by trying to push Tumblr’s edit post feature any further, so I’ll wrap it up for now. In part 2, which will hopefully be out over the next couple of weeks, we’ll be looking at a surprisingly strong haute couture collection from (can’t believe I’m about to say this) Maria Grazia as well as some of my faves, Etro, Dion Lee, Gucci, and of course Iris Van Herpen’s haute couture. In the meantime, I’m hoping to get a post out on my favourite sustainable clothing brands and to shoot my take on the “what I would wear sat front row at X” video trend that’s been going around lately on TikTok and Instagram reels, which I know I am kinda late to the party with.

I’m also looking at starting “photo dump” posts where I basically just substitute what I would be putting on my Instagram feed as photo posts on here, all the way back to when I first started my fashion Instagram account. I know this is hardly a hot take, but Instagram has really gone to shit, and once I’ve moved all my photos from there to here, I’m probably going to be deleting my account and just keep my private personal one. I’m sick of the endless scrolling past photos of people edited to the point of being unrecognisable and of seeing faces that all conform to that exact same Eurocentric beauty standard with the exact same surgical procedures to the point that even I, as a thin, white cis girl feel disgusting (so god knows how others without my privilege feel) because I don’t have a fucking fox eye lift or whatever it is that internet famous surgeons are telling us we need for our faces to fit the “golden ratio” at the moment. I am OVERRR all the promoted posts from people who preach social awareness and equality and authenticity and kindness making money off promoting companies that rely on slave labour rather than those who make me feel uplifted and inspired. And I am VERY MUCH done with scrolling through share for share and like for like pages because I am embarrassed by the fact that my likes don’t match up to my follower count since that must mean that NOBODY LIKES ME AND EVERYONE HATES MY FACE, right!? Even though I’d like to think that mentality was something I grew out of a long time ago. Instagram, much like Facebook before it (which is no surprise since the latter now owns the former), has just become another cesspit of an app which exists solely to convince you to buy new clothes and follow the latest filler trend and blow money on holidays you can’t afford to convince everyone you’re living the good life. Like many others, I have finally come to the conclusion that the way Instagram operates now is nothing but detrimental to my wellbeing. So, all that being said, I’m moving my feed over here, to a place where I can just arrange my silly little photos into silly little collages and not care if I’m shouting into the void by doing so because they’re just a screenshot of my life that I can look back on in however many years time and think Oh, Cool! That’s What I Was Interested In Back Then! That Outfit is Timeless! Or That One Was a HUGE FUCKING MISTAKE! Because I do love the creative element of Instagram, turning your feed into a collage, picking out which colours compliment each other, posting your favourite art and your outfits and the makeup looks you’re proud of, the beautiful sights you’ve seen-I just hate how unbridled capitalism and unrealistic social expectations have once again destroyed a good thing, and caused it to stray so far from its original vision of connecting people. Here, I don’t care if I get 0 interactions on those kinds of posts, because I am putting stuff out there I am proud of that expresses who I am and that interests me, and when I put a lot of hard ass work into something that’s actually important or that benefits others in some way as opposed to indulging my own vanity, it does get some circulation and I hope that it does make a positive difference, regardless of how small. I hope it doesn’t bother anyone too much seeing my initial photo dump posts on their dashboard as I try and catch up to where I am now; you’ll probs see a mini influx of 2015 fashion and I’m sorry about that! But I don’t *think* it will be too long until I’m up to date and then the photo dump posts will be much less regular.

Anyway, sorry about the Instagram rant there at the end! If you read all the way til the end, this is a  huuuuge thank you! I hope you enjoyed the post and I will get the next one out ASAP, potentially with a few posts in between. As always, feel free to inbox me if there’s anything you wanted to talk about or suggest and make sure you stay safe. There may finally be some light at the end of the tunnel:D

With a cautious dose of optimism, and the acknowledgement that I will most likely regret saying this: bring on June the 21st UK gals!

Lauren x

[xthelastknownsurvivorx]

Hamilton!firstprince au

(cross posted from twitter with a couple of edits b/c i couldn’t make them there)

in which i loosely follow the plot of hamilton except its firstprince and alex and henry get a happy ending. inspired by the striking similarities i noted between our favorite first son and his namesake hamilton in the broadway musical

the similarities:

both have/will have a political career

both often talk too much/don't mind their words

both began as lawyers

both extremely motivated but overwork themselves (“nonstop” +  “you have a fire under ur ass for no good goddamn reason)

both had some sort of sex scandal that impacted their career plans

hamilton speculated to be bi

the story

the setup of the colonized country alex lives in is similar to the usa vs england but fictional bc alexs race would have limited his opportunities in america's early years

idk names for either of these countries so its now the colony and the motherland

alex + his mom live alone in the poorer southern part of the colony

but his dad + june live elsewhere + they dont rly contact e/o (tho they do know of e/o’s existence)

june becomes a journalist who writes important pieces abt independence

when alex comes of age his mom reveals she used to be part of the rebellion

thats actually why his dad left to raise june bc it was too dangerous

his parents met in the rebellion but oscar left first for june while ellen stayed until she realized she was pregnant w alex

ellen still has some rebel contacts but she mostly sheltered alex to keep him safe

now tho alex decides to join too + the rebellion sends him up north to the capital for an education bc he's smart + they need people like that

he attends uni + meets like-minded people there

tension grows btwn the colony in the motherland, and alex + his friends write/speak out often and this goes on throughout their schooling

they’re also troublemakers in general too, much to the annoyance of the motherland soldiers stationed in the capital to prevent rebellion

henry is one of those soldiers

he's from a noble family in the motherland but was sent overseas as the sort of black sheep of the family due to his sexuality

the idea was to let him be in charge in the colony + reestablish a reputation there w/o embarrassing the main family back home

henry hates his job + feels bad for the colonists but still does what he's told anyway

alex + fhis riends like to bug motherland soldiers for fun

nothing  enough to put their lives in danger too much (although yes that too esp when drunk)

henry becomes a favorite target of alex's bc he's awfully stoic + statue like + on the way to uni - overall fun to antagonize 

there's also the fact that alex is angry at all the soldiers for oppressing the colony + holding up the motherland monarchs tyranny (but also alex just is the type to fight literally everything and anything) 

it becomes almost a daily ritual for them to argue 

henry wonders why this colonist keeps on picking a fight w him but soon almost looks forward to it

many of the other soldiers know or speculate why henry is in the colony but none make the effort to get to know him; some even call him arrogant or undeserving of his position

alex doesn't 

of course alex also doesn't know him

and alex hates him

but he doesn't whisper behind henry's back

henry comes to read some of the essays alex publishes speaking out against the monarchy + also hears alex speak to crowd in the square

alex is a talented + charismatic public speaker

henry finds himself growing increasingly sympathetic to the colonists cause

at the same time he and the other soldiers are order to be stricter and dole out more punishments

the others gleefully do so which makes henry concerned about alex's safety bc alex often seems to have no self-preservation skills

henry asks alex for a word when he's alone 

“am I in trouble?” “no but you bloody will be if u keep going on like this” 

“this is serious” “so am I” “you can't go around saying things so openly you'll get yourself killed”

alex tries to leave at this point “I think I'll be ok” but henry shoves him against the nearest wall 

“listen to me! stop acting like this is a game! ur putting ur sodding life in danger! I dont bloody care what ur opinions r but why must u declare them around enemy soldiers? how is this helpful 2 ur cause? u cant fight if ur dead” 

“you'd b surprised how effective martyrs are” 

cue enraged henry noises 

alexs gaze turns hard “listen i  appreciate/the advice” he says sarcastically “but I dont need an enemy telling me what to do. I can take care of myself” 

there's a stirring in alexs chest after he removes henry's hand and stalks off that he's pretty sure is anger

like it can't be anything else 

while alex is trying to convince himself of that, the tensions boil over + soon the two sides are on the brink of war then the fighting starts

henry + alex don't talk much for a while bc they're both busy on their sides preparing

school is on hold during the war so alex + his friends are looking to serve + bring glory to their names 

alex esp is recognized for his intelligence + becomes the recognized general rafael lunas secretary

luna is the george washington figure in this case who is impressed by alex wants him as his right-hand man

alex is disappointed his role is not on the battlefield bc he knows he has a good tactical mind + he could change the tide of a losing war + gain honor and status thru it, which would put him in a good position to be elected in the future

as secretary, alex is in charge of a lot of important correspondence eg for more supplies + men, so the motherland soldiers figure ambushing him off the battlefield would make things hard for the colonists

henry overhears this plan + immediately worries for alex's safety but he's cornered by another soldier to talk strategy + misses the chance to take out the men then

henry manages to catch that they're going to attack alex at night when he leaves + henry arrives just in time to kill them in a panic

alex hears the gunshot + yells “drop ur weapon”, drawing his own gun

henry obviously does + alex inspects the scene he keeps a gun fixed on henry

“what's going on?” he asks, eyeing henry w/ suspicion

henry explains everything + looks positively terrified bc he just betrayed his side even tho the motherland and his family has treated him like shit since he came out but still. 

becoming an outright traitor is not something henry ever planned + leaving behind everything he's ever known w no hope of ever going back is terrifying

but he also doesn't regret protecting alex

alex questions henry but can quickly tell henry is sincere + is telling the truth

henry explains his change of heart + they have a heartfelt moment in/just outside luna's office.

alex almost died + henry just switched sides, emotions are running high and they escalate into a kiss. the moon is out + it's all very romantic but they don't admit their feelings yet

soon after they go to luna, explain the situation + talk w the other generals/people in charge

henry is sent away on an assignment + is watched closely at first but he proves his loyalty quickly

henry and alex write letters back + forth that turn into love letters 

besides managing correspondence for luna, some of alexs ideas of sneak attacks/stealing supplies help turn the tide of the war andhe also writes to other countries for foreign aid

eventually the colonists win in this huge up start that no one anticipated bc the motherland is known as the most powerful country in the world

he + henry reunite in the capital of once the war is over

alex finishes up his studies + practices law + soon is chosen to be part of the new lawmaking body

things are going pretty well for alex w his legal + political success and his relationship with henry

they dont live together but theyre dating tho no one else knows

alex pretends to be single instead + says he doesn't want to be tied down

it works while he's still in his early 20s but as he gets closer to 30, people start to find it strange + tell him he needs to settle

being married to his work is also not a valid excuse anymore

it turns out alex made quite a few political enemies due to his strong opinions that he always vocalises + can be unwilling to compromise on

they don't like his ideas or more often hate him and hence his ideas too

they look for some dirt on him bc atm he has lunas support which has a lot of sway + decide they need to find out why he hasn't married

they manage to find out about henry + threaten to tell the public

alex is obviously distraught re the consequences personally + politically

so alex and henry discuss what to do 

henry is willing to put alexs political career 1st but firmly explains their relationship can't continue if that's the case

henry gave up his whole life + any possibility of going back to his family so he's not willing to be someone's dirty little secret  

alex doesn't know what to do so he goes to consult luna who he's become very close with over the years

luna is not quite old enough to be his father but he's like an uncle + he always calls alex “kid”, much to alex's annoyance

but alex knows he'll have some good advice

alex + luna end up having a long conversation

like washington luna has always been very vocal abt his regrets re his naivety + desire for glory back in his youth

hes always said that this was his greatest regret in life. but then he tells alex like he had another great regret in life- letting go of the love of his life

alex is surprised bc luna's never mentioned anyone special

“who is she?” 

“he” luna corrects “he was my best friend. we had something a relationship but it was short-lived bc I decided I wanted to join the military + attain glory. i thought thats what i wanted in life. turns out that stuff is meaningless w/o anyone to share it w. nor did I even achieve it. perhaps i did accomplish some things but now in my retirement I have no one by my side. i have found that life is meaningless without love and family.  

“i tried to find my friend to reconnect after all these years even as simply friends but he died in the war. alex, I see many similarities between us. don't make the same mistake that I did, alexander. glory + lasting legacy mean nothing if you're alone in the end

“if you make choices that are motivated by love and family you will be a lot happier”

alex takes his advice even though he kind of hates sort of giving up to his enemies

he decides to choose henry and his own happiness over politics bc in the end he's done a lot of good work and that much is enough

also his enemies probably would try to blackmail him throughout his career if he was doing something against their interests

so he + henry leave the capital and move uptown and the two of them have a quiet retirement + engage in philanthropy for the rest of their lives

separately they've amassed a decent amount of money - henry kept a portion of his inheritance despite being unofficially disowned and alex made a lot of money as a lawyer and then politician

as it turns out alex still has a tangential role in politics when some of his former allies go to him for advice

all in all, alex happy with his final decision to be with henry and step away from politics

the two of them live happy and full lives together

[bobasheebaby]

Mama - Cordonian Ruby chapter 7

Pairing: Ruby Rys x Beau Larkin; Jo Ellen Larkin (OC)

Word count: 1,023

Warnings: just a little angst and fluff

Summary: Ruby and Beau talk to Mama Jo.

A/N: picks up the same day, a little after Beau proposes.

A/N2: sorry this chapter is short guys, nexts weeks will be longer. Want a little get to know you for Ruby and Beau this weekend?

A/N3: A major thanks @sirbeepsalot for all your graping, prereading, editing, and telling me when to let go. I love you boo! Thank you to my snippet reader @loveellamae who screamed appropriately.

Series warnings: character death, blood, surgical procedures done by non medical personnel, may go NSFW in the future. May contain gun violence, knife violence, threats, not sure how dark this will go. By requesting to be tagged you acknowledge you are at least 18 years of age.

Let me know if you want to be added or removed from the taglist.

Disclaimer: I own Ruby, Galen, Lovett, and Beau, I’m borrowing Bastien and Olivia from PB.

Beau slipped his hand in hers, lacing their fingers together, pulling her from her daze. “You ready?”

“For your mom to hate me? Never.”

“She could never hate you RuRu.”

She rolled her sapphire eyes in annoyance, though she was unable to keep the smile from her lips. “You know that’s not fair!”

“Maybe, but I need to use whatever I have,” he leaned forward pressing a kiss to her forehead, “how else do I stand a chance against a queen?”

The smile slipped from her lips. “This was a bad idea, everybody is gonna hate me.”

“Ruby,” his voice and eyes soft and full of love, “I promise they won’t hate you. If anyone is about to be hated it’s me.”

“How do you figure?”

“AnnaBeth is gonna be so mad that I’m gonna have a title.”

She fought to keep the laughter bubbling in her from spilling out. “Stop making me smile all the time.”

“Why would I want to do that and miss out on the beautiful sight.”

“You are such a cheeseball!”

“But I’m your cheeseball.”

Ruby shook her head. How could I have ever doubted him for a minute? “Okay,” she sighed, as much as she wanted to hide in the truck for eternity she knew she needed to face her fears or she’d never be able to serve her people as queen. “Let’s get this over with.”

- - -

Jo Ellen placed her wooden spoon next to the stove and turned as she heard the back door swing open. Her eyes narrowed, though the weight in her chest lightened. “Beau Larkin, care to tell me why you rushed out of here like a bat out of hell?! You left in such a hurry you forgot the ri—” she trailed off, her voice softening and turning to confusion as her eyes landed on Ruby. “Ruby!” Her eyes darted between Beau’s sweetheart and her son. “I thought you two were having dinner with the Johnson’s.”

Beau gave a half shrug and scratched the back of his neck. “Uh — where’s dad?”

“Oh no Beau Larkin, you are not going to get out of explaining to me why you gave me a near heart attack!” She pointed towards the kitchen table, “sit and explain.”

“Mama Jo, maybe it would be best if we waited for Papa Lou.” Ruby said, her stomach so tangled and twisted in knots she wasn’t sure she could explain to Beau’s parents twice how she was taking him away.

“Lou is helping Pop, now tell me what I want to know.”

Ruby chewed her lip, eyes welling once more with tears as she sank into the closest chair. “Beau rushed out because of me. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to scare anyone.”

Jo Ellen felt her heart sink with worry as she slowly lowered herself into a chair. “Ruby dear, what’s wrong?”

“Ruby’s parents gave her a letter from her biological parents, she was worried about my reaction.”

Jo Ellen looked at him inquisitively, unsure what could upset her son’s girlfriend so deeply. “Okay.”

“I’m a queen.” Ruby blurted, quickly covering her mouth with her hands.

Beau softly rubbed circles along her back. “She means that her parents were royalty and killed in order to seize the crown. Ruby was worried about my reaction, she plans … we plan to hopefully take it back. Her parents said it would take at least a month to plan before we could leave so I don’t know exactly how …”

“I’m sorry Mama Jo.”

“She’s worried you’re going to hate her because she’s putting me in danger.”

Jo Ellen gave Ruby’s hand a comforting pat. “Now I know both of you well enough to know that this one,” she nodded towards her son, “isn’t innocent in this.”

“Thanks mom … but yea I told her I couldn’t live worrying about her and screwed up all my plans and proposed.”

“Beau Larkin, you did not propose without a ring!”

“Ruby was so worried that I’d hate her, I couldn’t wait.

Mom, I’ve never seen her so broken. I wasn’t sure how else I could make her understand just how much I love her.

It’s a little unorthodox but not unheard of and I did get her parents' blessing.”

“Wait … is that why Papa kept saying it would all work out?”

Beau smiled squeezing her hand, “I think he knew that nothing could stop me from asking you, not even a title.”

“Well I guess we have a wedding to plan.” Jo Ellen chuckled at her son and future daughter-in-law’s stunned faces. “I understand why you both need to do this, and I’m proud, even if I’m also scared out of my mind that something will happen to you.

While I support your decision, I cannot and will not accept my only son getting married without his momma.” She stood, pulling a black velvet box from her apron pocket, “I’m going to go call your Nan … tell her to send your father home,” she placed the small box in front of her son. “You forgot this.

Ruby, I’m so excited that I will get to call you my daughter.”

“Thanks Mama Jo.”

Beau pulled Ruby into his side, kissing the top of her head, “see? Nothing to worry about.”

“Did we really just agree to a wedding in a month?”

“Do you want to go against her?”

“No … it just seems so fast, but not soon enough.”

“I know what you mean … I was, am ready to spend my life with you, but everything is happening so fast.” He lovingly brushed her hair back from her face, “I won’t lie, I’m worried about what will happen, but I also believe in you.”

He picked up the ring box, “Ruby I love you so much and know that we can face any obstacle that may come our way,” he opened the box revealing a white gold band with delicate Celtic knots on either side of a modest ruby, “together.”

“It’s perfect,” Ruby whispered as he carefully slipped the ring on her finger. “And you’re right, together we can accomplish anything.”

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[path-of-my-childhood]

Taylor Swift: ‘I was literally about to break’

By: Laura Snapes for The Guardian Date: August 24th 2019

Taylor Swift’s Nashville apartment is an Etsy fever dream, a 365-days-a-year Christmas shop, pure teenage girl id. You enter through a vestibule clad in blue velvet and covered in gilt frames bursting with fake flowers. The ceiling is painted like the night sky. Above a koi pond in the living area, a narrow staircase spirals six feet up towards a giant, pillow-lagged birdcage that probably has the best view in the city. Later, Swift will tell me she needs metaphors “to understand anything that happens to me”, and the birdcage defies you not to interpret it as a pointed comment on the contradictions of stardom.

Swift, wearing pale jeans and dip-dyed shirt, her sandy hair tied in a blue scrunchie, leads the way up the staircase to show me the view. The decor hasn’t changed since she bought this place in 2009, when she was 19. “All of these high rises are new since then,” she says, gesturing at the squat glass structures and cranes. Meanwhile her oven is still covered in stickers, more teenage diary than adult appliance.

Now 29, she has spent much of the past three years living quietly in London with her boyfriend, actor Joe Alwyn, making the penthouse a kind of time capsule, a monument to youthful naivety given an unlimited budget – the years when she sang about Romeo and Juliet and wore ballgowns to awards shows; before she moved to New York and honed her slick, self-mythologising pop.

It is mid-August. This is Swift’s first UK interview in more than three years, and she seems nervous: neither presidential nor goofy (her usual defaults), but quick with a tongue-out “ugh” of regret or frustration as she picks at her glittery purple nails. We climb down from the birdcage to sit by the pond, and when the conversation turns to 2016, the year the wheels came off for her, Swift stiffens as if driving over a mile of speed bumps. After a series of bruising public spats (with Katy Perry, Nicki Minaj) in 2015, there was a high-profile standoff with Kanye West. The news that she was in a relationship with actor Tom Hiddleston, which leaked soon after, was widely dismissed as a diversionary tactic. Meanwhile, Swift went to court to prosecute a sexual assault claim, and faced a furious backlash when she failed to endorse a candidate in the 2016 presidential election, allowing the alt-right to adopt her as their “Aryan princess”.

Her critics assumed she cared only about the bottom line. The reality, Swift says, is that she was totally broken. “Every domino fell,” she says bitterly. “It became really terrifying for anyone to even know where I was. And I felt completely incapable of doing or saying anything publicly, at all. Even about my music. I always said I wouldn’t talk about what was happening personally, because that was a personal time.” She won’t get into specifics. “I just need some things that are mine,” she despairs. “Just some things.”

A year later, in 2017, Swift released her album Reputation, half high-camp heel turn, drawing on hip-hop and vaudeville (the brilliantly hammy Look What You Made Me Do), half stunned appreciation that her nascent relationship with Alwyn had weathered the storm (the soft, sensual pop of songs Delicate and Dress).

Her new album, Lover, her seventh, was released yesterday. It’s much lighter than Reputation: Swift likens writing it to feeling like “I could take a full deep breath again”. Much of it is about Alwyn: the Galway Girl-ish track London Boy lists their favourite city haunts and her newfound appreciation of watching rugby in the pub with his uni mates; on the ruminative Afterglow, she asks him to forgive her anxious tendency to assume the worst.

While she has always written about relationships, they were either teenage fantasy or a postmortem on a high-profile breakup, with exes such as Jake Gyllenhaal and Harry Styles. But she and Alwyn have seldom been pictured together, and their relationship is the only other thing she won’t talk about. “I’ve learned that if I do, people think it’s up for discussion, and our relationship isn’t up for discussion,” she says, laughing after I attempt a stealthy angle. “If you and I were having a glass of wine right now, we’d be talking about it – but it’s just that it goes out into the world. That’s where the boundary is, and that’s where my life has become manageable. I really want to keep it feeling manageable.”

Instead, she has swapped personal disclosure for activism. Last August, Swift broke her political silence to endorse Democratic Tennessee candidate Phil Bredesen in the November 2018 senate race. Vote.org reported an unprecedented spike in voting registration after Swift’s Instagram post, while Donald Trump responded that he liked her music “about 25% less now”.

Meanwhile, her recent single You Need To Calm Down admonished homophobes and namechecked US LGBTQ rights organisation Glaad (which then saw increased donations). Swift filled her video with cameos from queer stars such as Ellen DeGeneres and Queen singer Adam Lambert, and capped it with a call to sign her petition in support of the Equality Act, which if passed would prohibit gender- and sexuality-based discrimination in the US. A video of Polish LGBTQ fans miming the track in defiance of their government’s homophobic agenda went viral. But Swift was accused of “queerbaiting” and bandwagon-jumping. You can see how she might find it hard to work out what, exactly, people want from her.

***

It was girlhood that made Swift a multimillionaire. When country music’s gatekeepers swore that housewives were the only women interested in the genre, she proved them wrong. Her self-titled debut marked the longest stay on the Billboard 200 by any album released in the decade. A potentially cloying image ��� corkscrew curls, lyrics thick on “daddy” and down-home values – were undercut by the fact she was evidently, endearingly, a bit of a freak, an unusual combination of intensity and artlessness. Also, she was really, really good at what she did, and not just for a teenager: her entirely self-written third album, 2010’s Speak Now, is unmatched in its devastatingly withering dismissals of awful men.

As a teenager, Swift was obsessed with VH1’s Behind The Music, the series devoted to the rise and fall of great musicians. She would forensically rewatch episodes, trying to pinpoint the moment a career went wrong. I ask her to imagine she’s watching the episode about herself and do the same thing: where was her misstep? “Oh my God,” she says, drawing a deep breath and letting her lips vibrate as she exhales. “I mean, that’s so depressing!” She thinks back and tries to deflect. “What I remember is that [the show] was always like, ‘Then we started fighting in the tour bus and then the drummer quit and the guitarist was like, “You’re not paying me enough.”’’’

But that’s not what she used to say. In interviews into her early 20s, Swift often observed that an artist fails when they lose their self-awareness, as if repeating the fact would work like an insurance against succumbing to the same fate. But did she make that mistake herself? She squeezes her nose and blows to clear a ringing in her ears before answering. “I definitely think that sometimes you don’t realise how you’re being perceived,” she says. “Pop music can feel like it’s The Hunger Games, and like we’re gladiators. And you can really lose focus of the fact that that’s how it feels because that’s how a lot of stan [fan] Twitter and tabloids and blogs make it seem – the overanalysing of everything makes it feel really intense.”

She describes the way she burned bridges in 2016 as a kind of obliviousness. “I didn’t realise it was like a classic overthrow of someone in power – where you didn’t realise the whispers behind your back, you didn’t realise the chain reaction of events that was going to make everything fall apart at the exact, perfect time for it to fall apart.”

Here’s that chain reaction in full. With her 2014 album 1989 (the year she was born), Swift transcended country stardom, becoming as ubiquitous as Beyoncé. For the first time she vocally embraced feminism, something she had rejected in her teens; but, after a while, it seemed to amount to not much more than a lot of pictures of her hanging out with her “squad”, a bevy of supermodels, musicians and Lena Dunham. The squad very much did not include her former friend Katy Perry, whom Swift targeted in her song Bad Blood, as part of what seemed like a painfully overblown dispute about some backing dancers. Then, when Nicki Minaj tweeted that MTV’s 2015 Video Music awards had rewarded white women at the expense of women of colour, multiple-nominee Swift took it personally, responding: “Maybe one of the men took your slot.” For someone prone to talking about the haters, she quickly became her own worst enemy.

Her old adversary Kanye West resurfaced in February 2016. In 2009, West had invaded Swift’s stage at the MTV VMAs to protest against her victory over Beyoncé in the female video of the year category. It remains the peak of interest in Swift on Google Trends, and the conflict between them has become such a cornerstone of celebrity journalism that it’s hard to remember it lay dormant for nearly seven years – until West released his song Famous. “I feel like me and Taylor might still have sex,” he rapped. “Why? I made that bitch famous.” The video depicted a Swift mannequin naked in bed with men including Trump.

Swift loudly condemned both; although she had discussed the track with West, she said she had never agreed to the “bitch” lyric or the video. West’s wife, Kim Kardashian, released a heavily edited clip that showed Swift at least agreeing to the “sex” line on the phone with West, if not the “bitch” part. Swift pleaded the technicality, but it made no difference: when Kardashian went on Twitter to describe her as a snake, the comparison stuck and the singer found herself very publicly “cancelled” – the incident taken as “proof” of Swift’s insincerity. So she went away.

Swift says she stopped trying to explain herself, even though she “definitely” could have. As she worked on Reputation, she was also writing “a think-piece a day that I knew I would never publish: the stuff I would say, and the different facets of the situation that nobody knew”. If she could exonerate herself, why didn’t she? She leans forward. “Here’s why,” she says conspiratorially. “Because when people are in a hate frenzy and they find something to mutually hate together, it bonds them. And anything you say is in an echo chamber of mockery.”

She compares that year to being hit by a tidal wave. “You can either stand there and let the wave crash into you, and you can try as hard as you can to fight something that’s more powerful and bigger than you,” she says. “Or you can dive under the water, hold your breath, wait for it to pass and while you’re down there, try to learn something. Why was I in that part of the ocean? There were clearly signs that said: Rip tide! Undertow! Don’t swim! There are no lifeguards!” She’s on a roll. “Why was I there? Why was I trusting people I trusted? Why was I letting people into my life the way I was letting them in? What was I doing that caused this?”

After the incident with Minaj, her critics started pointing out a narrative of “white victimhood” in Swift’s career. Speaking slowly and carefully, she says she came to understand “a lot about how my privilege allowed me to not have to learn about white privilege. I didn’t know about it as a kid, and that is privilege itself, you know? And that’s something that I’m still trying to educate myself on every day. How can I see where people are coming from, and understand the pain that comes with the history of our world?”

She also accepts some responsibility for her overexposure, and for some of the tabloid drama. If she didn’t wish a friend happy birthday on Instagram, there would be reports about severed friendships, even if they had celebrated together. “Because we didn’t post about it, it didn’t happen – and I realised I had done that,” she says. “I created an expectation that everything in my life that happened, people would see.”

But she also says she couldn’t win. “I’m kinda used to being gaslit by now,” she drawls wearily. “And I think it happens to women so often that, as we get older and see how the world works, we’re able to see through what is gaslighting. So I’m able to look at 1989 and go – KITTIES!” She breaks off as an assistant walks in with Swift’s three beloved cats, stars of her Instagram feed, back from the vet before they fly to England this week. Benjamin, Olivia and Meredith haughtily circle our feet (they are scared of the koi) as Swift resumes her train of thought, back to the release of 1989 and the subsequent fallout. “Oh my God, they were mad at me for smiling a lot and quote-unquote acting fake. And then they were mad at me that I was upset and bitter and kicking back.” The rules kept changing.

***

Swift’s new album comes with printed excerpts from her diaries. On 29 August 2016, she wrote in her girlish, bubble writing: “This summer is the apocalypse.” As the incident with West and Kardashian unfolded, she was preparing for her court case against radio DJ David Mueller, who was fired in 2013 after Swift reported him for putting his hand up her dress at a meet-and–greet event. He sued her for defamation; she countersued for sexual assault.

“Having dealt with a few of them, narcissists basically subscribe to a belief system that they should be able to do and say whatever the hell they want, whenever the hell they want to,” Swift says now, talking at full pelt. “And if we – as anyone else in the world, but specifically women – react to that, well, we’re not allowed to. We’re not allowed to have a reaction to their actions.”

In summer 2016 she was in legal depositions, practising her testimony. “You’re supposed to be really polite to everyone,” she says. But by the time she got to court in August 2017, “something snapped, I think”. She laughs. Her testimony was sharp and uncompromising. She refused to allow Mueller’s lawyers to blame her or her security guards; when asked if she could see the incident, Swift said no, because “my ass is in the back of my body”. It was a brilliant, rude defence.

“You’re supposed to behave yourself in court and say ‘rear end’,” she says with mock politesse. “The other lawyer was saying, ‘When did he touch your backside?’ And I was like, ‘ASS! Call it what it is!’” She claps between each word. But despite the acclaim for her testimony and eventual victory (she asked for one symbolic dollar), she still felt belittled. It was two months prior to the beginning of the #MeToo movement. “Even this case was literally twisted so hard that people were calling it the ‘butt-grab case’. They were saying I sued him because there’s this narrative that I want to sue everyone. That was one of the reasons why the summer was the apocalypse.”

She never wanted the assault to be made public. Have there been other instances she has dealt with privately? “Actually, no,” she says soberly. “I’m really lucky that it hadn’t happened to me before. But that was one of the reasons it was so traumatising. I just didn’t know that could happen. It was really brazen, in front of seven people.” She has since had security cameras installed at every meet-and-greet she does, deliberately pointed at her lower half. “If something happens again, we can prove it with video footage from every angle,” she says.

The allegations about Harvey Weinstein came out soon after she won her case. The film producer had asked her to write a song for the romantic comedy One Chance, which earned her second Golden Globe nomination. Weinstein also got her a supporting role in the 2014 sci-fi movie The Giver, and attended the launch party for 1989. But she says they were never alone together.

“He’d call my management and be like, ‘Does she have a song for this film?’ And I’d be like, ‘Here it is,’” she says dispassionately. “And then I’d be at the Golden Globes. I absolutely never hung out. And I would get a vibe – I would never vouch for him. I believe women who come forward, I believe victims who come forward, I believe men who come forward.” Swift inhales, flustered. She says Weinstein never propositioned her. “If you listen to the stories, he picked people who were vulnerable, in his opinion. It seemed like it was a power thing. So, to me, that doesn’t say anything – that I wasn’t in that situation.”

Meanwhile, Donald Trump was more than nine months into his presidency, and still Swift had not taken a position. But the idea that a pop star could ever have impeded his path to the White House seemed increasingly naive. In hindsight, the demand that Swift speak up looks less about politics and more about her identity (white, rich, powerful) and a moralistic need for her to redeem herself – as if nobody else had ever acted on a vindictive instinct, or blundered publicly.

But she resisted what might have been an easy return to public favour. Although Reputation contained softer love songs, it was better known for its brittle, vengeful side (see This Is Why We Can’t Have Nice Things). She describes that side of the album now as a “bit of a persona”, and its hip-hop-influenced production as “a complete defence mechanism”. Personally, I thought she had never been more relatable, trashing the contract of pious relatability that traps young women in the public eye.

***

It was the assault trial, and watching the rights of LGBTQ friends be eroded, that finally politicised her, Swift says. “The things that happen to you in your life are what develop your political opinions. I was living in this Obama eight-year paradise of, you go, you cast your vote, the person you vote for wins, everyone’s happy!” she says. “This whole thing, the last three, four years, it completely blindsided a lot of us, me included.”

She recently said she was “dismayed” when a friend pointed out that her position on gay rights wasn’t obvious (what if she had a gay son, he asked), hence this summer’s course correction with the single You Need To Calm Down (“You’re comin’ at my friends like a missile/Why are you mad?/When you could be GLAAD?”). Didn’t she feel equally dismayed that her politics weren’t clear? “I did,” she insists, “and I hate to admit this, but I felt that I wasn’t educated enough on it. Because I hadn’t actively tried to learn about politics in a way that I felt was necessary for me, making statements that go out to hundreds of millions of people.”

She explains her inner conflict. “I come from country music. The number one thing they absolutely drill into you as a country artist, and you can ask any other country artist this, is ‘Don’t be like the Dixie Chicks!’” In 2003, the Texan country trio denounced the Iraq war, saying they were “ashamed” to share a home state with George W Bush. There was a boycott, and an event where a bulldozer crushed their CDs. “I watched country music snuff that candle out. The most amazing group we had, just because they talked about politics. And they were getting death threats. They were made such an example that basically every country artist that came after that, every label tells you, ‘Just do not get involved, no matter what.’

“And then, you know, if there was a time for me to get involved…” Swift pauses. “The worst part of the timing of what happened in 2016 was I felt completely voiceless. I just felt like, oh God, who would want me? Honestly.” She would otherwise have endorsed Hillary Clinton? “Of course,” she says sincerely. “I just felt completely, ugh, just useless. And maybe even like a hindrance.”

I suggest that, thinking selfishly, her coming out for Clinton might have made people like her. “I wasn’t thinking like that,” she stresses. “I was just trying to protect my mental health – not read the news very much, go cast my vote, tell people to vote. I just knew what I could handle and I knew what I couldn’t. I was literally about to break. For a while.” Did she seek therapy? “That stuff I just really wanna keep personal, if that’s OK,” she says.

She resists blaming anyone else for her political silence. Her emergence as a Democrat came after she left Big Machine, the label she signed to at 15. (They are now at loggerheads after label head Scott Borchetta sold the company, and the rights to Swift’s first six albums, to Kanye West’s manager, Scooter Braun.) Had Borchetta ever advised her against speaking out? She exhales. “It was just me and my life, and also doing a lot of self-reflection about how I did feel really remorseful for not saying anything. I wanted to try and help in any way that I could, the next time I got a chance. I didn’t help, I didn’t feel capable of it – and as soon as I can, I’m going to.”

Swift was once known for throwing extravagant 4 July parties at her Rhode Island mansion. The Instagram posts from these star-studded events – at which guests wore matching stars-and-stripes bikinis and onesies – probably supported a significant chunk of the celebrity news industry GDP. But in 2017, they stopped. “The horror!” wrote Cosmopolitan, citing “reasons that remain a mystery” for their disappearance. It wasn’t “squad” strife or the unavailability of matching cozzies that brought the parties to an end, but Swift’s disillusionment with her country, she says.

There is a smart song about this on the new album – the track that should have been the first single, instead of the cartoonish ME!. Miss Americana And The Heartbreak Prince is a forlorn, gothic ballad in the vein of Lana Del Rey that uses high-school imagery to dismantle American nationalism: “The whole school is rolling fake dice/You play stupid games/You win stupid prizes,” she sings with disdain. “Boys will be boys then/Where are the wise men?”

As an ambitious 11-year-old, she worked out that singing the national anthem at sports games was the quickest way to get in front of a large audience. When did she start feeling conflicted about what America stands for? She gives another emphatic ugh. “It was the fact that all the dirtiest tricks in the book were used and it worked,” she says. “The thing I can’t get over right now is gaslighting the American public into being like” – she adopts a sanctimonious tone – “‘If you hate the president, you hate America.’ We’re a democracy – at least, we’re supposed to be – where you’re allowed to disagree, dissent, debate.” She doesn’t use Trump’s name. “I really think that he thinks this is an autocracy.”

As we speak, Tennessee lawmakers are trying to impose a near-total ban on abortion. Swift has staunchly defended her “Tennessee values” in recent months. What’s her position? “I mean, obviously, I’m pro-choice, and I just can’t believe this is happening,” she says. She looks close to tears. “I can’t believe we’re here. It’s really shocking and awful. And I just wanna do everything I can for 2020. I wanna figure out exactly how I can help, what are the most effective ways to help. ’Cause this is just…” She sighs again. “This is not it.”

***

It is easy to forget that the point of all this is that a teenage Taylor Swiftwanted to write love songs. Nemeses and negativity are now so entrenched in her public persona that it’s hard to know how she can get back to that, though she seems to want to. At the end of Daylight, the new album’s dreamy final song, there’s a spoken-word section: “I want to be defined by the things that I love,” she says as the music fades. “Not the things that I hate, not the things I’m afraid of, the things that haunt me in the middle of the night.” As well as the songs written for Alwyn, there is one for her mother, who recently experienced a cancer relapse: “You make the best of a bad deal/I just pretend it isn’t real,” Swift sings, backed by the Dixie Chicks.

How does writing about her personal life work if she’s setting clearer boundaries? “It actually made me feel more free,” she says. “I’ve always had this habit of never really going into detail about exactly what situation inspired what thing, but even more so now.” This is only half true: in the past, Swift wasn’t shy of a level of detail that invited fans to figure out specific truths about her relationships. And when I tell her that Lover feels a more emotionally guarded album, she bristles. “I know the difference between making art and living your life like a reality star,” she says. “And then even if it’s hard for other people to grasp, my definition is really clear.”

Even so, Swift begins Lover by addressing an adversary, opening with a song called I Forgot That You Existed (“it isn’t love, it isn’t hate, it’s just indifference”), presumably aimed at Kanye West, a track that slightly defeats its premise by existing. But it sweeps aside old dramas to confront Swift’s real nemesis, herself. “I never grew up/It’s getting so old,” she laments on The Archer.

She has had to learn not to pre-empt disaster, nor to run from it. Her life has been defined by relationships, friendships and business relationships that started and ended very publicly (though she and Perry are friends again). At the same time, the rules around celebrity engagement have evolved beyond recognition in her 15 years of fame. Rather than trying to adapt to them, she’s now asking herself: “How do you learn to maintain? How do you learn not to have these phantom disasters in your head that you play out, and how do you stop yourself from sabotage – because the panic mechanism in your brain is telling you that something must go wrong.” For her, this is what growing up is. “You can’t just make cut-and-dry decisions in life. A lot of things are a negotiation and a grey area and a dance of how to figure it out.”

And so this time, Swift is sticking around. In December she will turn 30, marking the point after which more than half her life will have been lived in public. She’ll start her new decade with a stronger self-preservationist streak, and a looser grip (as well as a cameo in Cats). “You can’t micromanage life, it turns out,” she says, drily.

When Swift finally answered my question about the moment she would choose in the VH1 Behind The Music episode about herself, the one where her career turned, she said she hoped it wouldn’t focus on her “apocalypse” summer of 2016. “Maybe this is wishful thinking,” she said, “but I’d like to think it would be in a couple of years.” It’s funny to hear her hope that the worst is still to come while sitting in her fairytale living room, the cats pacing: a pragmatist at odds with her romantic monument to teenage dreams. But it sounds something like perspective.