#i hope all their children are queer and rebellious i hope they have to learn the hard way that what they did was wrong because they

[thrassisfras]

Mom over there wondering why queer people love monsters so much, and wouldn't it just be easier if we were a normal kind of weird

Meanwhile at 16 I was told to my face by my religous leaders that my very existence was a corrupting agent in my friends' lives and it would be better for them, safer for them, if we stopped being friends.

[aion-rsa]

How The Walking Dead: World Beyond Expands the Zombie Universe with Its Unique Teen Characters

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After its premiere was delayed by several months due to COVID-19, the two-season The Walking Dead spinoff series The Walking Dead: World Beyond finally makes its debut this week. The story expands the TWD universe in a unique way, taking place 10 years after the zombie outbreak and focusing on a predominantly teenage cast of characters. Unlike the battered groups of survivors from The Walking Dead and Fear the Walking Dead, these teens have been sheltered from walkers (or “empties,” as they’re called on this show) within the walls of a university in Omaha, Nebraska, a thriving colony that has afforded them a relatively normal, safe life post-outbreak.

But, as fans will learn from the very first episode, the Campus Colony (as it’s referred to) does have a seemingly precarious arrangement with the Civic Republic Military (CRM), whose ominous helicopters act as a narrative thread that ties the three shows together. It’s safe to say you’ll learn way more about this mysterious faction in World Beyond than ever before.

The show primarily centers on sisters Iris (Aliyah Royale) and Hope (Alexa Mansour), who leave the safety of the University in search of their father, brilliant scientist Dr. Leo Bennett (Joe Holt), who they’ve learned is somewhere in New York. Joining them on their mission are fellow student Elton (Nicolas Cantu), a resourceful scientist and historian (who also happens to know karate), and school janitor Silas (Hal Cumpston), a soft-spoken social outcast whose murky past has earned him a questionable reputation on campus. The teens are tailed by battle-tested adult guardians Felix (Nico Tortorella) and Huck (Annet Mahendru).

Last fall, I visited the show’s set in Richmond, Virginia, where filming was underway for episode 7 of the show (alas, there were no CRM helicopters in sight). The location was an old waterpark called Hadad’s Lake, which was appropriately creepy-looking. The abandoned facilities looked dreary and greyed-out under the looming rainclouds — the juxtaposition of a children’s park rotting in a post-apocalypse seemed to fit the show thematically as well.

Huddled around a table with other members of the press under a tent that sheltered our equipment from the occasional drizzle, we were joined by the cast members one by one to talk about their respective characters and what fans can expect from the show. Here’s what we learned:

Iris

“Iris is smart and caring and loving and doesn’t have a selfish bone in her body,” Royale says of her character. “She really wants to make sure that every single person that she encounters is taken care of and has what they need. At some point she realizes maybe it’s time to start doing things for herself and when she makes that switch, it is a roller coaster of events.”

Serving as the beating heart of the show, Iris is an overachiever on campus and a compassionate leader amongst her peers. She’s got a tight bond with Hope, and while Iris is generally viewed as the more straight-laced, level-headed of the two, the absence of her father compels her to make the drastic decision to venture out beyond the University walls for the first time.

“The mission for Iris is: where’s my dad at?” Royale explains. “I want my dad back. The other side of that is, Iris is following in his footsteps. She’s super involved in science, biomedical engineering, all of those things that her father’s brain is being used for…that’s exactly the path that she’s going towards. Saving the world.”

At the University, though the majority of students haven’t encountered empties, they’re trained by instructors like Felix to defend themselves against the dead, including with a weapon called an S-pole, a staff with a retractable blade at one end. Iris is a fast learner, although she quickly discovers that no amount of training can actually prepare her for the horrors that await in the real world.

“She’s got a lot of information stored up here,” Royale says as she points at her head. “But the minute that she encounters the first walker, it’s this just absolute fear. As much as you learn, as many books as you read, you could never feel [that fear] until you’re in that moment. You’ve got your four best friends next to you, and it’s you or the empty.”

Hope

“She doesn’t give a shit about anything,” Mansour says of the rebellious Hope. “She lives for today and I mean, realistically, she doesn’t think she’s going to live tomorrow. She’s pretty sure she could die at any moment and I don’t think she really cares. So she gets herself in trouble, doesn’t care what people say, and is always doing the opposite of what Felix tells her to do. It’s kind of ironic that her name is Hope because she really doesn’t have any of it.”

Hope and Iris have a tight bond despite their polar opposite temperaments and outlooks on life. “They’re complete opposites,” says Mansour. “Iris is the one that will be off studying until four in the morning while Hope would probably be partying until four in the morning. But they love each other. I think they really do balance each other out. Iris will bail Hope out whenever she is sneaking out and doing stuff that she should not be doing, and Hope would take a bullet for her sister.”

As for Hope’s lack of, well, hope, in human beings and their future prospects on the planet, Mansour made it clear that this speaks to a pressing real-world issue of mental health that affects teens everywhere. As someone who was bullied for her ethnicity (she’s half Hispanic, half Egyptian), she feels World Beyond and the platform it’s given her will allow her to help teenagers who are struggling like she has.

“I really hope they realize that they’re not alone,” Mansour says. “I think it’s important for kids who are watching this to take away that it’s okay to be open about what you’re feeling and it’s okay to feel what you’re feeling and it’s not the end of the world, it is going to get better.”

Felix

“Felix is the head of security detail at the university,” says Tortorella, who also reveals that his character identifies as queer. “He is kind of an adopted son to the girls’ dad. He had a troubled childhood dealing with his family coming to terms or not coming to terms with him being gay. He’s very much a hero. He protects the people around him in a way that’s contradictory to the stereotype of like what a gay character usually is on television. And that’s why I was really excited to play this role.”

Tortorella, who identifies as genderfluid, felt drawn to the show and the The Walking Dead franchise for its strong representation of marginalized communities. “The diversity was a huge thing coming into it, you know? We have people from all walks of life on this show. Genders, sexualities, race, religions. It was a no brainer for me.”

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Hope and Iris’s father took Felix in as family after the outbreak, and Felix’s made a promise to take care of the girls at all costs. Unlike the sisters, he and his partner Huck have seen action outside the Campus’ walls, which makes him a formidable fighter. When Iris and Hope escape the walls of the colony, Felix and Huck quickly give chase.

“Yeah, he’s in full dad mode all the time with these kids,” Tortorella explains. “I think that like after the first episode, the stakes are at maximum levels in terms of our safety and our fight for survival. And Felix is the one that has the most training in terms of any sort of military background that we know of.”

Huck

Huck is Felix’s right hand, dear friend, and confidant. She sports a sizable scar across her cheek, which all but confirms she’s been through some tough shit.

“Huck comes from a Marines background,” Mahendru says. “When you first meet Huck, you just know the scar. There’s a story [behind it]. She is an independent thinker. She’s really tough, but she’s really hopeful and really positive and warm and is adamant about bringing the world back to what it was. She wants as many people to live as possible.”

As for Huck’s relationship to the sisters, Mahendru says that she has a deep connection with Hope, who she sees herself in. “She was a bit of a rebel when she was young, [too]. They have a big/little sister relationship, and I train her how to fight. I want her to survive out there. I mean I’m going to send her out there and so I’m responsible for her. I really believe in her potential and I feel her pain. I’ve gone through the same similar things.”

Elton

“Elton is a very intellectually curious child,” Cantu says. “He has been sheltered from the world outside with a bunch of horrible, horrible things happening out there. So he’s kind of trying to understand the world for what it is and how nature is changing along with most of humanity. He’s on a journey to analyze and document and just see what this new world is about.”

A classmate of Iris and Hope’s who offers to join them on their quest to find their father, Elton admits that the outside world isn’t exactly foreign to him.

“Elton has been outside of the walls before because he does a lot of experiments outside,” Cantu explains as he motions to the mustard-colored, corduroy suit he’s wearing. “It’s bite proof, which Elton learned through controlled experiments. So he kind of has a little bit of a glimpse as to what the outside world is. But once he steps out there, it’s intense.”

Cantu says he sees a lot of himself in Elton. “I really do relate to Elton. I mean, he’s kind of got this view of the world where he’s very blunt with it. He knows a bunch of the threats out there. He realizes stepping outside of those walls is going to be a life changing thing. The world is brutal and he has just come to accept that. So if it’s coming down to survival, he’s ready, he’s prepared, he’s got everything on lock. And I feel like if I was in an apocalypse, I would prepare similarly to Elton.”

Silas

“He’s been shunned by the particular community they’re in. People refer to him as a monster or just completely shun him. It’s like a Boo Radley type of character,” Cumpston reveals about the quiet Silas. “No one knows his exact story, you know what I mean? When kids hear something then they exaggerate and that type of thing.”

Cumpston, a young Australian actor and filmmaker also feels he relates to Silas. “Yeah, everyone’s felt like an outcast. There’s definitely been situations where I’ve felt like an outcast. I’d be a funny kid at school. I joined a soccer team and there’s already these different funny personalities [on the team] and I’m just sort of like the quiet kid who’s also not good [at soccer]. I’m like, ‘Oh, fuck. I need to make up for it by being funny but there are no opportunities.’” 

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Unlike his three teenage counterparts, Silas isn’t a student at the school, and he’s got little excuse not to join the others on their quest, seeing as he hasn’t got much going for him at the Campus.

“He’s just a janitor who no one speaks to and everyone refers to as a monster,” Cumpston says. “When he walks past people on campus, you can hear that people don’t have very nice things to say about him. He catches wind that there’s an [opportunity] to prove to himself and these other people that he’s not a monster.”

The Walking Dead: World Beyond premieres on Oct. 4 at 10 pm ET on AMC.

The post How The Walking Dead: World Beyond Expands the Zombie Universe with Its Unique Teen Characters appeared first on Den of Geek.

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[nerdygaymormon]

I'm... scared... of your blog. It goes against a whole lot of what I was taught to believe and follow growing up. But, at the same time, I've been hurt deeply by that... doctrine... and I've only just begun to see and understand the extent of that damage. So... what if this is what my wounded and weeping soul has been searching for... since I can't pick up any "official text" without having a violent physical reaction that is drowning in pain and fear? 1/?

I can't even get near a chapel or temple without reacting. And I can't bring myself to confide in any of my local bishopric or ward members. As a result, I've been suffering alone. I know I need therapy because this is some deep, messed up shit, but I have not been able to find a compassionate professional and I'm not want to continue the search. I've neither the funds nor the energy. 2/?

I'm 34yo born and raised in the Church. Three years ago I experienced something that made me question heavily whether Gd still loved me because I for sure felt damned. And that event caused the floodgates to open, I suppose. I've not been active for years due to chronic illness and being treated like some sort of sub-human because of my disability. I used to maintain a current temple recommend but not anymore. 3/?

I think I'm asexual. And the more and more I think about this, the more and more it explains some aspects of me that I thought were broken. (No desire to date as a teen, no feelings of sexual attraction to anyone, confusion about terms like "infatuation" and "crush", confused and disgusted by sex and the world's obsession with it.) But, at the same time, the more and more I grew to like this term, the worse my feeling of being Rejected by Gd became. 4/? 

But, even before I adopted the term, I began to feel unwanted and damned because of a history of attempted molestation at 5 years old and being taught that I was 'chewed gum' amongst other doctrines that insisted that my every decision and move was responsible for the sexual purity of the male mind. I felt violated in almost everything that I wore that I felt "pretty" in because I was under the belief I was a walking sin. 5/?

I say I'm scared of your blog... yet I read through several posts last night, body shaking and nauseous with fear and guilt. And here I am, unloading in your askbox because I'm so desperate for someone to talk to who won't judge me like I've been judged all my life. The last time I went to church, I ran out of Sacrament in tears, hyperventilating in my car for several minutes. I have not been back since. 6/?

I want to believe that I'm still loved. I want to believe that I'm still wanted. There is a vicious war going in within me, complicated by chronic and mental illness, that I've lost my sensitivity concerning Gd. I can't tell if or when He's talking to me because the constant anxiety, fear and pain drown out the more 'subtle' emotions. And the maladaptive coping mechanisms I've developed likely don't help either... 7/?

Thank you for listening... if you have anything insightful that you think might help, I'd like to read it. (I hope all these messages stayed anonymous...) 8/8

———————————————————————

Wow, the feels. You said so much. I recognize you’re in a hard place. 

—————————  

Don’t worry, you managed to stay anonymous. I know when sending multiple asks it’s to forget to push the anon option.

—————————  

Congrats on figuring out you are asexual (ace). 

I think discovering a lack of something is difficult. There’s all these hints along the way but then once you figure it out, it all makes sense, everything fits.  

Don’t be afraid to change your labels. We use words to describe how we understand ourselves. If the way you understand yourself changes, it’s fine to change your labels. 

—————————  

Having a chronic illness can be difficult, it can take over a life as you organize things around it. Having a disability also can be challenging, especially if it’s one that is visible to others because they often view you as your disability. 

The thing is, you have a personality that wants to be displayed, I can tell that just from these messages you sent me. As people spend time with you and get to know you, they will start seeing you and not your disability. 

—————————  

Things that you described about your feelings and reactions make me believe therapy would help. I’m no mental health professional, but I wonder if you have have the symptoms of PTSD (church caused you trauma) and an anxiety disorder. 

If you have insurance that will cover some sessions, look for a provider that takes your insurance. If you don’t, I know that therapy can be expensive. 

About 2 years ago I needed to see a therapist and I checked at my local university. They had a psychological services clinic where Ph.D. students could gain experience, so the price was reduced, and my therapy was overseen by professors who are up-to-date in their field.  

If you can’t get to therapy now, and if you want to go to church, it helps a lot to have someone you know that can go with you, like a security blanket. It makes it less scary to enter that space. 

If you don’t have someone like that, try contacting the missionaries, explain you haven’t been to church in a while but want to come back. They will be so happy to greet you in the lobby and have you sit with them. And if you want, they will introduce you around to others. 

—————————  

Tbh, I was very surprised at how you describe my blog. I didn’t realize someone would view it the way you did. 

It’s true that I think our church is wrong on LGBTQIA+ topics. This is because of a few things:

1) I feel the spirit let me know that God loves me as I am, a gay man, and that I’m not broken. This is how I’m meant to be. 

2) What we learn about our Heavenly Parents and how they love us and are fair and just, and they treat us the same and view humankind as alike. I can’t believe they would set up a whole group of their children to fail and not have a path to return to them.

3) Jesus stood with those who were on the margins, He spent time lifting others and taught us that real religion is helping others, especially those who are downtrodden and on the margins. 

4) The Church doesn’t show LGBTQIA+ people as a part God’s Plan. The Church doesn’t know what to do with us. And it’s not a good space for queer people so most LGBTQIA+ members leave. This is not good fruit and it’s not what I think God would want, for whole groups of people to not feel welcomed.

I don’t reject the principles of the gospel, I want them to apply to all of us, even me, a gay man, and even you, an asexual woman. We are beautiful, we have a purpose, we deserve to be accepted and have joy. 

I guess that is rebellious and dangerous because it challenges the Church’s narrative about people like you and me. 

I let people in church tell me terrible things and for so long I believed them. I don’t anymore. 

Refusing the shame that church gives us as queer people, that’s radical. Church is supposed to help us be better, not wear us down. 

You can love yourself and be happy as ace. This is part of how God made you, you don’t have to deny this is how you experience life. 

—————————

What are your goals? What kind of person do you want to be? What do you want your life to be like? 

My psychologist used to have me write what I would like my life to be like, and then we made goals to start doing those. 

You are capable of change. 

This is your life. 

God has given you talents. We’re not supposed to hide them under a bushel. Work on developing them and developing yourself. 

You are your own longest investment. Investing in yourself is a gift to the world, it’s how we develop ourselves and increases our capacity to help others.

—————————

I hope you feel I understood what you were trying to say to me. 

I also hope I gave you some things to think about, to ponder, and figure out what feels right to you.

[multifandomaddictedfangirl]

Honestly, I didn’t think Penelope would have reacted THAT bad, regarding of Elena’s first time. It wasn’t terrible, but it wasn’t really the best Penelope could do. I mean, sure, Penelope isn’t the most “woke” person on the show. Clearly, she still has some work to do (and the show brilliantly laughs about that, which is nice and fun). But she was kinda hard and really mean with Elena when the poor girl said she has booked a room for her and Syd.

First of all, booking a room doesn’t mean having sex. All kind of things could have happened. Knowing them, they could have just rent a room for a night to do cosplays of their favorite tv show. Or maybe they did book a hotel room to have sex but ended up not doing it. What I mean is: ask, before assuming things.

Then, don’t go away when your children is suggesting that she has had her first time! Penelope made it look like she was ashamed, or even disappointed in her. Mostly scared. And that’s such a hurtful reaction. Take the time, s t a y, T A L K. I know if my mom had reacted like that, I would have been quite hurt.

Know your children. We are talking about ELENA, for God’s sake! She is very responsible and mature for her age. She wouldn’t do something crazy or dangerous. She is woke, she is aware of the risks and danger of sex. Even if Penelope never had “the talk” with her, she could have assumed her daughter - who is a queer feminist, ecologist, social justice warrior - was rather responsible. Of course, things can go wrong even if you are responsible. But Elena wouldn’t just go ahead and screw around.

Elena is 17. It’s not like she’s under 15. And, as surprising as it can be for parents, 17 years old is on the average age to have your first time. I’m not saying there is a “right” age to have sex for the first time. I’m not saying not being on average is wrong. You can have your first time at any time of your life (17 is okay, 70 is okay). It’s personal. I’m just saying what she is experimenting is completely normal and happens to a lot of teens around this age.

Penelope knew her daughter was a lesbian, so she probably assumed she didn’t do it with a man, which might be reassuring for a mom: at least, you know your kid had 0 chance of unwanted pregnancies. You don’t have to worry about the morning after pill, you don’t have to advice your child to take a regular contraceptive pill, etc. You just have to check with your kid about STDs.

It was with Syd! Penelope knows them. Syd is always at her house. Penelope has seen them a thousand times. Elena has been dating them for a long time. It’s kinda normal they both wanted to take the next step. Syd isn’t a stranger. Syd isn’t a random person Elena had just met. And plus, Syd is a very nice and kind person. They won’t do anything Elena isn’t comfortable with. Of course, they will respect Elena. Of course, it’ll go okay.

Elena booked a room in an hotel. It’s cute. That means they both wanted their first time to be good (i.e. in good conditions). They both took it seriously and they both thought about it before doing it. They both talked about it. They both wanted it. They both cared. They both wanted it to be in a nice, clean, kinda romantic, place. They both wanted it to be special. That shows responsibility and love.

The only reason they booked an hotel room was because Penelope wouldn’t give them any intimacy! She wouldn’t let them have any moment of privacy. Were they supposed to do it with the door open? In front of Alex? Or Lydia? What else were their options exactly? Penelope kinda pushed it, there. She was always onto them, I get that it was unbearable for Syd and Elena.

I mean, come on, it’s not like if Elena was a problematic rebellious kid, who had sex with a 40 years old man, in his parents’ basement. (In that case, over-worrying would have been the appropriate response xD). Considering the conditions and the context of Elena’s first time, Penelope kinda overreacted on this one. Yes, Elena lied and hid the hotel room but it’s not that much of a big deal, you know? And Penelope kinda reacted like that.

I can understand why. She has been raised differently by Lydia. She never had “the talk” with Lydia and it shows. Clearly, she doesn’t know what to say. (That’s okay. She didn’t have to recite the perfect progressive, kind, understanding, open-minded speech). She still has to learn about LGBT and all (and it’s good that she talks to a lesbian friend to know more about it and educate herself). It’s also true that she is overprotective and always worried about her kids, by nature. And I guess in the latino-american culture she is from, the norm is to worry as hell about your children and protect them with your life if you have to ^^ Sex, surely, is very taboo (as well in plenty of communities). I SEE all of that. I UNDERSTAND all of that. So yes, it makes sense she reacts that way. It’s not crazy at all to see her react like that.

But still, I’m kinda surprised Penelope just freaked out and went away without saying ANYTHING to her kid, who had just suggested something very serious had happened. Here is my problem: with everything that happened in s1 and s2, I kinda wanted to see some character development on Penelope on that point. She had the same reaction when Elena came out as gay. There is no evolvement on this part. In the coming out episode, Penelope was shocked, she shut down, and she quietly left the room. She went talk to other people to process the whole thing and then she came back and gave the “I accept you as you are” speech. Hear me out: It’s good that her final word in the matter is positive! But I just wish Penelope would stop abandoning her daughter when she opens up and confesses to her. I mean, think about Elena! She takes the courage to say some difficult stuff and the person who is supposed to be there just leave, completely shocked. How did SHE feel at that moment? I know if it was me, I would have felt like my mom didn’t want to talk with me or understand, that she judged me, that she didn’t know me, that she thought less of me, that I should be ashamed, that what I did was wrong (when it wasn’t!)... Poor Elena. That is kinda mean (unwanted mean but still). And I wish we could see her proactively do the right thing. Not go see someone else, take their advice, come back and say the right thing afterwards. You know? I wish we could see her tell Elena RIGHT AWAT that, though she doesn’t know everything about lesbian sex and she might say stupid stuff, she wants to talk about it with her - just to make sure she is okay, she feels good, she is not hurt and everything went well for her and Syd.

I just wished, for once, we could have the representation of a mom who is proactive, and engages with her daughter, and listens to her at the very beginning, and smiles and be kind, and is not afraid of talking freely about sex and hearing about sex, and says the right things right away, and reassures her, and makes sure she feels okay, and hugs their kids and shows her love. I know it might not seem like the most realistic choice but it could be a good representation. At least, a representation that we never get in tv shows or in films :/

So yes, after the coming out of Elena, I just wish they would have pictured Penelope a little bit kindar and more understanding with her. And a little less like a “conservative mom” :/

In the end, she does come back and say the right things. It’s what matters, I know. I just wished it would have been done differently :) But that’s my personal opinion.

EDIT: I changed Syd’s pronouns from her/she to them/they. Totally my bad, I’m really sorry. I know they are NB. I typed this on my phone rapidly and carelessly. Again, my bad.

Plus: I explained a little bit more what I meant, after reading comments of people who thought I was lashing on Penelope :) I hope my thoughts are clearer, now! ^^

[aroworlds]

Aro-Spec Artist Profile: Sebastian

Our next aro-spec creator is Sebastian, better known on Tumblr as @gloriousmonsters and @mangledmouth!

Sebastian is a bisexual, autistic, aromantic trans man who is single-handedly covering many literary bases in producing original aro and queer short stories, novels and poetry. Aside from his Tumblr blogs, you can find and support more of his work at his Patreon. If you have a dollar or two you’re wanting to invest in worthy aro-spec talent on a less-regular basis, please take a look at Sebastian’s Ko-Fi!

With us Sebastian talks about identifying with the role of villainy in narrative as an aro creative, aromantic characters and grand emotional gesture, the divide between representation and self-expression, and some spectacular-sounding work-in-progress book titles! His investment in aromantic characters and characterisation shapes every word, so please let’s give him all our love, encouragement, gratitude, kudos and follows for taking the time to explore what it is to be aromantic and creative.

Can you share with us your story in being aro-spec?

It took me a while to realize I was aromantic, but it was one of the things that made me go ‘oh, that makes … a lot of sense’ when I looked back at my childhood. I was a weird, isolated kid, so I didn’t learn from bouncing off other children; I learned through stories.

One of my strongest early memories is of watching a poorly made Red Riding Hood film over and over again, belting out the lyrics to the (poorly written) villain’s song, called ‘Man Without A Heart’. Cut to a year or so later, watching the Rodgers and Hammerstein Cinderella (still the best Cinderella, IMO), I was utterly fascinated by the villainess singing: ‘Falling in love with love is falling for make-believe…’

I didn’t know, that early, that I didn’t feel romantic love. Not consciously. But there was something utterly, obsessively interesting about villains that sneered at love, who were called heartless, who challenged the narrative that there must always be a love story and it must come out right no matter what. I felt, on a deep level, that these people were like me somehow. The additional queercoding and common side-helping of mental illness helped - or didn’t help, depending on your perspective. I grew up knowing, deep down, what my part in life was: I was the villain.

When I hit my rebellious age, it first came out by my saying, ‘But being a villain doesn’t mean you have to be wrong or unhappy’. I began collecting villains like nobody’s business, and writing stories that more and more often centered people whose character types I’d only ever seen as villains. And from there we arrive at today!

Are there any particular ways your aro-spec experience is expressed in your art?

Recently, my brother (who is my sounding board for a lot of stories, as I am for him) looked at my books-to-write list and said, ‘Nearly every idea you have is a deconstructed romance or strong non-romantic relationship.’

I love strong relationships, so I originally thought I needed to write people as love interests to get that; these days I feel more free to focus on whatever the heck I want, and being aro shows in everything. My current WIP centers a poly relationship where two of the partners are aromantic. Two people (often, but not always, a man and a woman due to my frustration with the ‘men and women can’t be friends’ thing) who are the most important people in each others’ lives and are platonic, show up over and over again in my novel ideas; I start with relationships that look like romances and then pull them apart. Part of this, I think, is due to my autistic ‘let’s take this into component parts and see how it works’ tendencies; being autistic and being aro aren’t cause and effect, for me, but they play well together.

When I write poetry, some of it deals explicitly with being aromantic, but all of it is non-romantic. It makes me kind of anxious sometimes to think of people interpreting pieces as being romo because they’re about intense emotions; one of the biggest ways being aro is expressed in my writing is my constant attempts to show other feelings, connections and relationships than romance being worthy of big feelings and gestures. I’ll sometimes refer to myself as ‘aromantic but capital-R Romantic’ (i.e.  extremely dramatic) because of that.

What challenges do you face as an aro-spec artist?

I’m sure I’ll run into more problems as I try to take my increasingly aro and queer and ND works to professional markets, but at the moment my biggest problem is self-censoring. I sit at an awkward junction of having multiple identities I want to include in my work, and being … well, someone who grew up obsessed with villains, who later on developed a decade’s interest in slasher horror, and who still tends to write people who are perceived as, or see themselves as, villains. Awkward because I always have that voice in my head (helped along by some of the stuff I see on social media) going ‘that’s not good rep! nobody will want to read this!’

But I know from experience that not writing from the heart (and look at that, I do have one after all!) doesn’t end well, so I’m working on getting good at writing my weird dark stuff and hoping I’ll find the audience for it. And I always leave a little bit of light in it, because I have another voice in my head, still saying, ‘just because you’re a villain doesn’t mean you can’t be happy’.

It’s a weird sort of positivity, but it works for me.

How do you connect to the aro-spec and a-spec communities as an aro-spec person?

Following and submitting to this blog is part of my first attempts to actually join the aro-spec community. I tend to move slowly and be very nervous of talking to new people, but I’ve been trying to be more affirming of my aromantic identity lately, and seeking out other aros is part of that. Hopefully I’ll settle in a little more as time passes.

How can the aro-spec community best help you as a creative?

At the moment, people following and reblogging from my poetry blog @mangledmouth would be much appreciated. It’s hard to get traction with poetry (especially if you don’t write romantic poetry) and I’d love more people to see my work. I’m proud of a lot of what I’ve done, so check it out! Be warned that my love for horror and oddness turns up there as well, but there’s nothing too graphic.

And Ko-Fi donations or small Patreon subscriptions are always appreciated.

Can you share with us something about your current project?

My current WIP (titled either The Night In Wanting or And One of Us Be Happy, depending on whether I go for the one that sounds better or the one that fits best thematically) is about a third done! Praise me, because I’m really bad at finishing things, but I’m still on track to wrap this up at the end of June. It’s about a Weird Small Town and Sarah, a girl with a reputation for breaking hearts, who decides to date one of her best friends and actually try to make it work. Her attempts at being normal quickly get derailed when their town’s general weirdness turns hostile - attacks by creatures from the woods, unsettling amounts of rain, pictures changing when you’re not looking at them and a really pushy forest spirit trying to bargain with people for a heart. Her attempts at normal are further derailed when she figures out that her new boyfriend is also in love with a mutual friend, and that she might not feel love at all.

I love these characters, guys. This story is finally coming together after years and the three main characters - Sarah, Mags and Fred - have always been at the heart of it, no matter what shape it took. (Mags used to be a ghost, and the story went through a phase of being a Band AU of itself. Fred kept getting possessed, and there’s a joke about that in the text now that nobody will get but me. And now you guys!) It’s terrifying to write a YA that’s not only poly, but focuses on an aromantic main character, but I’m determined to make it work.

(This is is one of the most sweet/normal things I’ve worked on, despite the healthy dose of horror. I’ve also been writing snippets of a pet project called How The Child-Eater Became King, to give you an idea of the other end of the spectrum.)

Have you any forthcoming works we should look forward to?

I haven’t got the release date for it yet (it’ll probably be a while yet) but I recently sold a short story, Sabuyashi Flies, to Glittership. The main character, Sabuyashi, was originally aroace but turned out to be a lesbian ace during writing. (Characters often decide to come out while I’m writing, which is always fun to handle. I mean that both sarcastically and genuinely.) I’m already working on and off on the sequel story where she meets her future best friend Nathaniel, who is aro. Working title is Nat Luckless and the Girl Made of Beetles. Look for news about Sabuyashi Flies soonish and Nat Luckless whenever my slow butt manages to finish and (fingers crossed) sell it!

[caffeinated-tater-art]

POWER RANGERS: BREAKFAST CLUB

and the things that I think what made it a surprisingly good movie. 

SPOILERS AHEAD and a really LONG post 

jgh from watching power rangers and lemme tell you-- my expectations for this was really low, like laughably low and I was imagining how I would be laughing at the end after watching this... However, boy was I wrong. 

-This movie knows. They know the concept is goofy BUT they worked around it and made an actual power rangers movie with all the power-ranger-stuff like

-ITS MORPHIN TIME

-MAKE MY MONSTER GROOOOOOOOOOWWW

-AY YAY YAYA YAYAYYAY

-ALL THE RANGERS DOING THE SUPER HERO LANDING

-THE POWER RANGERS FIGHTING UNLIMITED NUMBER OF GOONS BEING ALL COLORED AND POWER RANGERS-y -ZOOOORDS

-GIANT COLORFUL (ish) MEGA ZORD

- It was the honesty to the franchise. Like, the only thing missing was the sailor moon morphing moment with kung fu poses but we all know thats just crossing waaaay over the cheese limit.

-The Cast. This movie really nailed it with how the took “different colored rangers to different colored kids” quite literally. This movie showed that having a multi-raced cast IS NOT THAT HARD AND WONT HAVE ANY SIDE EFFECT ON THE STORY ITSELF. I think other movies should learn that DIVERSITY does not mean 4 white people and one non-white cast.

-The casts dynamics and build up on their relationships. This I think was the thing that made this movie work. They chose the right cast and the development of the story was not on some romance subplot or some pointless action scenes, it was on the characters friendship and how it grew naturally.

- Im not kidding about how BEAUTIFULLY DIVERSE  the casts and characters are.

-My boy BILLY CRANSTON,THE MOST INTERESTING Blue ranger to ever, who’s autism was never treated as a weakness but instead was his biggest strength. He is the heart of this bunch and I will protect him with my life. I can make an essay abt how mcuh I love him, the bravest character of them all.

-ZACK TAYLOR, my beautiful asian man who is the EYE CANDY OF THE GROUP. ASIAN. EYE CANDY. can i jsut. wOW. also not only that hes an Asian character whos an eyecandy, he is also this layered character who loves his mom so much and is able to be delicate and emotional.

- KIMBERLEY HART IS NOT THE DAMSEL IN DISTRESS. In fact, she was introduced as a rebellious and really DARING character not to mention  the number of times she saved everyone in the fight scenes LOOOL. Also, its not explicitly said in the movie, but I think Kim isn’t fully Caucasian since Naomi Scott (the actress) is part Indian. 

-TRINI KWAN. My QUEER LATINA CHILD, whos story arc never shied away from the topic of how certain families tend to control how their queer children is in hopes of “curing” them, BUT her queerness never became the center of her character. TRINI BEING THIS CRAZY BADASS CHICK THAT OWNS MY ENTIRE ASS.

-JASON SCOTT, the troy bolton incarnate, who sure has the basic leader archetype but what made his character less bland was how he connected with the others especially Billy. Also, Jason bitch slapping the shit out of that bully was still very therapeutic. 

-NONE OF THE CHARACTERS WERE CARICATURES OF THEIR RACE.

-THE MOVIE NEVER BECAME A RACE THING. yes hollywood, its possible.

-Not even the gender thing. Like this movie is less problematic than most movies.

-Also, deeply appreciate the lack of unwanted over the top romance subplot. Sure we get some glances and some of them were not even close to hetero if ya know what i mean.

- ITS A POWER RANGER MOVIE THAT KNOWS ITS A POWER RANGER MOVIE.

theres a lot more. I know im forgetting stuff but this movie was honestly enjoyable to watch especially if youre a Power Rangers fan as a child up to to this day in my case LOL  and I know its not perfect, not by a long shot.

i mean, there was like a ton of bad CG moments and the blatant brand plugging-- also i feel like the zords lacked moments of wow factor:\\

-Jason slapping the BICTH OUT of people. i mean. iconic.

[readbookywooks]

“I Am Colin”

Mary took the picture back to the house when she went to her supper and she showed it to Martha.

"Eh!" said Martha with great pride. "I never knew our Dickon was as clever as that. That there's a picture of a missel thrush on her nest, as large as life an' twice as natural."

Then Mary knew Dickon had meant the picture to be a message. He had meant that she might be sure he would keep her secret. Her garden was her nest and she was like a missel thrush. Oh, how she did like that queer, common boy!

She hoped he would come back the very next day and she fell asleep looking forward to the morning.

But you never know what the weather will do in Yorkshire, particularly in the springtime. She was awakened in the night by the sound of rain beating with heavy drops against her window. It was pouring down in torrents and the wind was "wuthering" round the corners and in the chimneys of the huge old house. Mary sat up in bed and felt miserable and angry.

"The rain is as contrary as I ever was," she said. "It came because it knew I did not want it."

She threw herself back on her pillow and buried her face. She did not cry, but she lay and hated the sound of the heavily beating rain, she hated the wind and its "wuthering." She could not go to sleep again. The mournful sound kept her awake because she felt mournful herself. If she had felt happy it would probably have lulled her to sleep. How it "wuthered" and how the big raindrops poured down and beat against the pane!

"It sounds just like a person lost on the moor and wandering on and on crying," she said.

She had been lying awake turning from side to side for about an hour, when suddenly something made her sit up in bed and turn her head toward the door listening. She listened and she listened.

"It isn't the wind now," she said in a loud whisper. "That isn't the wind. It is different. It is that crying I heard before."

The door of her room was ajar and the sound came down the corridor, a far-off faint sound of fretful crying. She listened for a few minutes and each minute she became more and more sure. She felt as if she must find out what it was. It seemed even stranger than the secret garden and the buried key. Perhaps the fact that she was in a rebellious mood made her bold. She put her foot out of bed and stood on the floor.

"I am going to find out what it is," she said. "Everybody is in bed and I don't care about Mrs. Medlock--I don't care!"

There was a candle by her bedside and she took it up and went softly out of the room. The corridor looked very long and dark, but she was too excited to mind that. She thought she remembered the corners she must turn to find the short corridor with the door covered with tapestry--the one Mrs. Medlock had come through the day she lost herself. The sound had come up that passage. So she went on with her dim light, almost feeling her way, her heart beating so loud that she fancied she could hear it. The far-off faint crying went on and led her. Sometimes it stopped for a moment or so and then began again. Was this the right corner to turn? She stopped and thought. Yes it was. Down this passage and then to the left, and then up two broad steps, and then to the right again. Yes, there was the tapestry door.

She pushed it open very gently and closed it behind her, and she stood in the corridor and could hear the crying quite plainly, though it was not loud. It was on the other side of the wall at her left and a few yards farther on there was a door. She could see a glimmer of light coming from beneath it. The Someone was crying in that room, and it was quite a young Someone.

So she walked to the door and pushed it open, and there she was standing in the room!

It was a big room with ancient, handsome furniture in it. There was a low fire glowing faintly on the hearth and a night light burning by the side of a carved four-posted bed hung with brocade, and on the bed was lying a boy, crying fretfully.

Mary wondered if she was in a real place or if she had fallen asleep again and was dreaming without knowing it.

The boy had a sharp, delicate face the color of ivory and he seemed to have eyes too big for it. He had also a lot of hair which tumbled over his forehead in heavy locks and made his thin face seem smaller. He looked like a boy who had been ill, but he was crying more as if he were tired and cross than as if he were in pain.

Mary stood near the door with her candle in her hand, holding her breath. Then she crept across the room, and, as she drew nearer, the light attracted the boy's attention and he turned his head on his pillow and stared at her, his gray eyes opening so wide that they seemed immense.

"Who are you?" he said at last in a half-frightened whisper. "Are you a ghost?"

"No, I am not," Mary answered, her own whisper sounding half frightened. "Are you one?"

He stared and stared and stared. Mary could not help noticing what strange eyes he had. They were agate gray and they looked too big for his face because they had black lashes all round them.

"No," he replied after waiting a moment or so. "I am Colin."

"Who is Colin?" she faltered.

"I am Colin Craven. Who are you?"

"I am Mary Lennox. Mr. Craven is my uncle."

"He is my father," said the boy.

"Your father!" gasped Mary. "No one ever told me he had a boy! Why didn't they?"

"Come here," he said, still keeping his strange eyes fixed on her with an anxious expression.

She came close to the bed and he put out his hand and touched her.

"You are real, aren't you?" he said. "I have such real dreams very often. You might be one of them."

Mary had slipped on a woolen wrapper before she left her room and she put a piece of it between his fingers.

"Rub that and see how thick and warm it is," she said. "I will pinch you a little if you like, to show you how real I am. For a minute I thought you might be a dream too."

"Where did you come from?" he asked.

"From my own room. The wind wuthered so I couldn't go to sleep and I heard some one crying and wanted to find out who it was. What were you crying for?"

"Because I couldn't go to sleep either and my head ached. Tell me your name again."

"Mary Lennox. Did no one ever tell you I had come to live here?"

He was still fingering the fold of her wrapper, but he began to look a little more as if he believed in her reality.

"No," he answered. "They daren't."

"Why?" asked Mary.

"Because I should have been afraid you would see me. I won't let people see me and talk me over."

"Why?" Mary asked again, feeling more mystified every moment.

"Because I am like this always, ill and having to lie down. My father won't let people talk me over either. The servants are not allowed to speak about me. If I live I may be a hunchback, but I shan't live. My father hates to think I may be like him."

"Oh, what a queer house this is!" Mary said. "What a queer house! Everything is a kind of secret. Rooms are locked up and gardens are locked up--and you! Have you been locked up?"

"No. I stay in this room because I don't want to be moved out of it. It tires me too much."

"Does your father come and see you?" Mary ventured.

"Sometimes. Generally when I am asleep. He doesn't want to see me."

"Why?" Mary could not help asking again.

A sort of angry shadow passed over the boy's face.

"My mother died when I was born and it makes him wretched to look at me. He thinks I don't know, but I've heard people talking. He almost hates me."

"He hates the garden, because she died," said Mary half speaking to herself.

"What garden?" the boy asked.

"Oh! just--just a garden she used to like," Mary stammered. "Have you been here always?" "Nearly always. Sometimes I have been taken to places at the seaside, but I won't stay because people stare at me. I used to wear an iron thing to keep my back straight, but a grand doctor came from London to see me and said it was stupid. He told them to take it off and keep me out in the fresh air. I hate fresh air and I don't want to go out."

"I didn't when first I came here," said Mary. "Why do you keep looking at me like that?"

"Because of the dreams that are so real," he answered rather fretfully. "Sometimes when I open my eyes I don't believe I'm awake."

"We're both awake," said Mary. She glanced round the room with its high ceiling and shadowy corners and dim fire-light. "It looks quite like a dream, and it's the middle of the night, and everybody in the house is asleep--everybody but us. We are wide awake."

"I don't want it to be a dream," the boy said restlessly.

Mary thought of something all at once.

"If you don't like people to see you," she began, "do you want me to go away?"

He still held the fold of her wrapper and he gave it a little pull.

"No," he said. "I should be sure you were a dream if you went. If you are real, sit down on that big footstool and talk. I want to hear about you."

Mary put down her candle on the table near the bed and sat down on the cushioned stool. She did not want to go away at all. She wanted to stay in the mysterious hidden-away room and talk to the mysterious boy.

"What do you want me to tell you?" she said.

He wanted to know how long she had been at Misselthwaite; he wanted to know which corridor her room was on; he wanted to know what she had been doing; if she disliked the moor as he disliked it; where she had lived before she came to Yorkshire. She answered all these questions and many more and he lay back on his pillow and listened. He made her tell him a great deal about India and about her voyage across the ocean. She found out that because he had been an invalid he had not learned things as other children had. One of his nurses had taught him to read when he was quite little and he was always reading and looking at pictures in splendid books.

Though his father rarely saw him when he was awake, he was given all sorts of wonderful things to amuse himself with. He never seemed to have been amused, however. He could have anything he asked for and was never made to do anything he did not like to do. "Everyone is obliged to do what pleases me," he said indifferently. "It makes me ill to be angry. No one believes I shall live to grow up."

He said it as if he was so accustomed to the idea that it had ceased to matter to him at all. He seemed to like the sound of Mary's voice. As she went on talking he listened in a drowsy, interested way. Once or twice she wondered if he were not gradually falling into a doze. But at last he asked a question which opened up a new subject.

"How old are you?" he asked.

"I am ten," answered Mary, forgetting herself for the moment, "and so are you."

"How do you know that?" he demanded in a surprised voice.

"Because when you were born the garden door was locked and the key was buried. And it has been locked for ten years."

Colin half sat up, turning toward her, leaning on his elbows.

"What garden door was locked? Who did it? Where was the key buried?" he exclaimed as if he were suddenly very much interested.

"It--it was the garden Mr. Craven hates," said Mary nervously. "He locked the door. No one--no one knew where he buried the key." "What sort of a garden is it?" Colin persisted eagerly.

"No one has been allowed to go into it for ten years," was Mary's careful answer.

But it was too late to be careful. He was too much like herself. He too had had nothing to think about and the idea of a hidden garden attracted him as it had attracted her. He asked question after question. Where was it? Had she never looked for the door? Had she never asked the gardeners?

"They won't talk about it," said Mary. "I think they have been told not to answer questions."

"I would make them," said Colin.

"Could you?" Mary faltered, beginning to feel frightened. If he could make people answer questions, who knew what might happen!

"Everyone is obliged to please me. I told you that," he said. "If I were to live, this place would sometime belong to me. They all know that. I would make them tell me."

Mary had not known that she herself had been spoiled, but she could see quite plainly that this mysterious boy had been. He thought that the whole world belonged to him. How peculiar he was and how coolly he spoke of not living.

"Do you think you won't live?" she asked, partly because she was curious and partly in hope of making him forget the garden.

"I don't suppose I shall," he answered as indifferently as he had spoken before. "Ever since I remember anything I have heard people say I shan't. At first they thought I was too little to understand and now they think I don't hear. But I do. My doctor is my father's cousin. He is quite poor and if I die he will have all Misselthwaite when my father is dead. I should think he wouldn't want me to live."

"Do you want to live?" inquired Mary.

"No," he answered, in a cross, tired fashion. "But I don't want to die. When I feel ill I lie here and think about it until I cry and cry."

"I have heard you crying three times," Mary said, "but I did not know who it was. Were you crying about that?" She did so want him to forget the garden.

"I dare say," he answered. "Let us talk about something else. Talk about that garden. Don't you want to see it?"

"Yes," answered Mary, in quite a low voice.

"I do," he went on persistently. "I don't think I ever really wanted to see anything before, but I want to see that garden. I want the key dug up. I want the door unlocked. I would let them take me there in my chair. That would be getting fresh air. I am going to make them open the door."

He had become quite excited and his strange eyes began to shine like stars and looked more immense than ever.

"They have to please me," he said. "I will make them take me there and I will let you go, too."

Mary's hands clutched each other. Everything would be spoiled--everything! Dickon would never come back. She would never again feel like a missel thrush with a safe-hidden nest.

"Oh, don't--don't--don't--don't do that!" she cried out.

He stared as if he thought she had gone crazy!

"Why?" he exclaimed. "You said you wanted to see it."

"I do," she answered almost with a sob in her throat, "but if you make them open the door and take you in like that it will never be a secret again."

He leaned still farther forward.

"A secret," he said. "What do you mean? Tell me."

Mary's words almost tumbled over one another.

"You see--you see," she panted, "if no one knows but ourselves--if there was a door, hidden somewhere under the ivy--if there was--and we could find it; and if we could slip through it together and shut it behind us, and no one knew any one was inside and we called it our garden and pretended that--that we were missel thrushes and it was our nest, and if we played there almost every day and dug and planted seeds and made it all come alive--"

"Is it dead?" he interrupted her.

"It soon will be if no one cares for it," she went on. "The bulbs will live but the roses--"

He stopped her again as excited as she was herself.

"What are bulbs?" he put in quickly.

"They are daffodils and lilies and snowdrops. They are working in the earth now--pushing up pale green points because the spring is coming."

"Is the spring coming?" he said. "What is it like? You don't see it in rooms if you are ill."

"It is the sun shining on the rain and the rain falling on the sunshine, and things pushing up and working under the earth," said Mary. "If the garden was a secret and we could get into it we could watch the things grow bigger every day, and see how many roses are alive. Don't you. see? Oh, don't you see how much nicer it would be if it was a secret?"

He dropped back on his pillow and lay there with an odd expression on his face.

"I never had a secret," he said, "except that one about not living to grow up. They don't know I know that, so it is a sort of secret. But I like this kind better."

"If you won't make them take you to the garden," pleaded Mary, "perhaps--I feel almost sure I can find out how to get in sometime. And then--if the doctor wants you to go out in your chair, and if you can always do what you want to do, perhaps--perhaps we might find some boy who would push you, and we could go alone and it would always be a secret garden."

"I should--like--that," he said very slowly, his eyes looking dreamy. "I should like that. I should not mind fresh air in a secret garden."

Mary began to recover her breath and feel safer because the idea of keeping the secret seemed to please him. She felt almost sure that if she kept on talking and could make him see the garden in his mind as she had seen it he would like it so much that he could not bear to think that everybody might tramp in to it when they chose.

"I'll tell you what I think it would be like, if we could go into it," she said. "It has been shut up so long things have grown into a tangle perhaps."

He lay quite still and listened while she went on talking about the roses which might have clambered from tree to tree and hung down--about the many birds which might have built their nests there because it was so safe. And then she told him about the robin and Ben Weatherstaff, and there was so much to tell about the robin and it was so easy and safe to talk about it that she ceased to be afraid. The robin pleased him so much that he smiled until he looked almost beautiful, and at first Mary had thought that he was even plainer than herself, with his big eyes and heavy locks of hair.

"I did not know birds could be like that," he said. "But if you stay in a room you never see things. What a lot of things you know. I feel as if you had been inside that garden."

She did not know what to say, so she did not say anything. He evidently did not expect an answer and the next moment he gave her a surprise.

"I am going to let you look at something," he said. "Do you see that rose-colored silk curtain hanging on the wall over the mantel-piece?"

Mary had not noticed it before, but she looked up and saw it. It was a curtain of soft silk hanging over what seemed to be some picture.

"Yes," she answered.

"There is a cord hanging from it," said Colin. "Go and pull it."

Mary got up, much mystified, and found the cord. When she pulled it the silk curtain ran back on rings and when it ran back it uncovered a picture. It was the picture of a girl with a laughing face. She had bright hair tied up with a blue ribbon and her gay, lovely eyes were exactly like Colin's unhappy ones, agate gray and looking twice as big as they really were because of the black lashes all round them.

"She is my mother," said Colin complainingly. "I don't see why she died. Sometimes I hate her for doing it."

"How queer!" said Mary.

"If she had lived I believe I should not have been ill always," he grumbled. "I dare say I should have lived, too. And my father would not have hated to look at me. I dare say I should have had a strong back. Draw the curtain again."

Mary did as she was told and returned to her footstool.

"She is much prettier than you," she said, "but her eyes are just like yours--at least they are the same shape and color. Why is the curtain drawn over her?"

He moved uncomfortably.

"I made them do it," he said. "Sometimes I don't like to see her looking at me. She smiles too much when I am ill and miserable. Besides, she is mine and I don't want everyone to see her." There were a few moments of silence and then Mary spoke.

"What would Mrs. Medlock do if she found out that I had been here?" she inquired.

"She would do as I told her to do," he answered. "And I should tell her that I wanted you to come here and talk to me every day. I am glad you came."

"So am I," said Mary. "I will come as often as I can, but"--she hesitated--"I shall have to look every day for the garden door."

"Yes, you must," said Colin, "and you can tell me about it afterward."

He lay thinking a few minutes, as he had done before, and then he spoke again.

"I think you shall be a secret, too," he said. "I will not tell them until they find out. I can always send the nurse out of the room and say that I want to be by myself. Do you know Martha?"

"Yes, I know her very well," said Mary. "She waits on me."

He nodded his head toward the outer corridor.

"She is the one who is asleep in the other room. The nurse went away yesterday to stay all night with her sister and she always makes Martha attend to me when she wants to go out. Martha shall tell you when to come here."

Then Mary understood Martha's troubled look when she had asked questions about the crying.

"Martha knew about you all the time?" she said.

"Yes; she often attends to me. The nurse likes to get away from me and then Martha comes."

"I have been here a long time," said Mary. "Shall I go away now? Your eyes look sleepy."

"I wish I could go to sleep before you leave me," he said rather shyly.

"Shut your eyes," said Mary, drawing her footstool closer, "and I will do what my Ayah used to do in India. I will pat your hand and stroke it and sing something quite low."

"I should like that perhaps," he said drowsily.

Somehow she was sorry for him and did not want him to lie awake, so she leaned against the bed and began to stroke and pat his hand and sing a very low little chanting song in Hindustani.

"That is nice," he said more drowsily still, and she went on chanting and stroking, but when she looked at him again his black lashes were lying close against his cheeks, for his eyes were shut and he was fast asleep. So she got up softly, took her candle and crept away without making a sound.