#questioning if he could tell the journey I had discovering their band in real time right in front of him

[thisismyobsessionnow]

Thinking about the Tungsten guitarist

[oohnoniall]

The Lantsov Emerald [Kaz Brekker x OC] - Chapter Five (Anastasia)

Warnings: cursing, fantasy violence, family drama

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three 

Chapter Four

     Escaping the palace had been the easy part. Nikolai had shown her all the secret pathways when they were children. They had played games with them. She'd always wanted to be the fairy while he was a pirate or some sort of scoundrel. She had remembered those childhood days fondly throughout her journey to Kribirsk. If she hadn't, she would have been forced to think about the pain in her feet and the fact that she had been foolish enough to not beg her father's permission.

        At least then she would've had a carriage.

        Upon reaching the city, she had paid handsomely for fresh clothes and lodging. She had bathed, scrubbing her skin raw, and dressed in a plain sky blue gown. She had attempted to plait her hair by herself, although it appeared messy and uneven. Anastasia had never known just how hopeless she was until she had gone days without a bath or her lady maids.

        Nikolai would have been so disappointed in her.

        She was fresh-faced when she came into the bar. Her cheeks were rosy and her eyes took in every single person in the crowded bar. She had thought enough to keep her traveling cloak. There was no telling what any of the patrons would do if they discovered that the princess of Ravka stood before them. 

        Years of dancing and lessons in how a princess should behave made her elegant. Even in the dusty, dirty bar, she strode forward as though she was on the dance floor. Each of her movements timed to the waltz of her heartbeat. She knew that her gait alone would be cause for attention. What simple maiden walked as though the ground was a dance floor? What young woman acted as though the world should bow before her?

        Anastasia had not been around enough women to know what the answer truly was.

        She felt eyes on her the entire time she ordered her drink. Kvas like Nikolai had drank with her before he had gone. She had gagged and refused to ever touch any again. The smell still made her wish to gag, but she had to keep up some appearance. She took the glass from the barkeep, thanking him with a small smile. Anastasia then turned her attention to the rest of the patrons of the bar.

        Most of them were her subjects. They looked hardened, as though life had done them no favors. They had lines along their features that she had not seen amongst the nobility. They looked as though dirt had encased them their entire lives. Her heart ached for them. Was there nothing that she could do? She didn't have the power to change things. That power lived with her brothers. She would never be Ravka's queen. 

        Her eyes landed on a small group in the corner of the bar. A boy with dark hair and a wild grin was playing with a revolver, his fingers fiddling on the hammer as though he was waiting for a reason to use it. A girl in deep, navy blue clothes sat beside him. Her features hidden by a hood and her body was nearly as still as the breath that had caught in Anastasia's throat.

        At the head of their table sat the guard from the ball. His eyes scanned the room, landing on her. She wondered how many times those eyes had stopped someone in their place. He seemed sharper than he had that night. The angles of his face were made of glass and were likely to cut her if she touched them. He was far too handsome for his own good.

        Without thought of her safety, Anastasia headed over to the three of them. She felt as though she was vibrating, excitement coursing through her veins as she neared the table. The man had lied to her. He had snuck into her home. She would find out why. That would be a good enough reason for the last-ditch effort for freedom.

        "Mr. Vanzin," she lowered her hood as she spoke, keeping her back to the other patrons. "I've been looking for you."

        An amused smile graced her features as she looked down at him. He played off the idea of being at ease, his spine straight and his eyes glancing at her as though she were nothing more than a mouse. But his hands told a different story. The black gloves he wore could not hide the way he tensed. His fingers clenched in a fist that she was certain he would not use on her. He wouldn't dare to create a scene.

        "Your Highness," he sounded bored as he regarded her. Anastasia was uncomfortably reminded of most of the people in the palace. "Had I known you were serious about seeing each other again, I wouldn't have left so quickly."

        The Zemeni boy offered her a chair beside him. She did not like the grin that stretched across his lips. It was as though he was one of the big cats her nanny had told her about at bedtime. She took the seat nonetheless. This would not be the first time that she had found herself in a den of lions. She dined with monsters each night. She had danced with several the night she had met Mr. Vanzin.

        "I'm afraid that I was curious about you, Mr. Vanzin," she crossed her ankles, every bit the picture of a perfect princess. Rasmus would be getting a beautiful bride. "After all, it's not every day that one manages to break into the Little Palace. Nor when a guard lies directly to my face."

        "I assure you," his gaze could have cut through ice, "nothing about that night was personal."

        "How could it be?" Anastasia's eyes sparkled with amusement. It was like she was verbally sparring with Niki once more. He danced around the questions he didn't want to answer, made her feel as though she would go mad half the time. "You didn't even tell me your real name."

        The air surrounding them seemed to grow thick with tension. The girl's hands had disappeared underneath the table while the boy was rubbing the handles of his revolvers. Anastasia would not allow them to frighten her. She would not be afraid and she would not back down.

        "You're clever, Princess," his tone was filled with venom. "You should be careful. That's a good way to get yourself killed."

        "Is that a threat, Mr. Vanzin?" 

        "Only advice," he told her before he drank the glass of kvas that had been in front of him. His eyes were dark as he stared at her. Heat flooded her cheeks but she did not let it phase her.

        Anastasia had been around princes and lordlings her entire life. She had been around beautiful men and around men who had assumed they were beautiful. She had never let them phase her. She would not let this conman get underneath her skin. Even if it did feel as though she were drowning when he looked at her like that.

        "You'll forgive me if I don't take it," she said, praying to the Saints that the dim of the bar was hiding her heated face. "Now, why don't you tell me who you are?"

        "So you can cart us off to a Ravkan prison?" It was a valid thought. Had she been any of the other members of her family, she more than likely would have called for help. But had she been anyone else in her family she wouldn't have had to run away from her future.

        Nikolai got to be the scholar, Vasily the king. All Anastasia was good for was a high bride price and to be her father's favorite pawn. Her future had never been her own. It never would be.

        "I assure you," she leaned forward, strands of her hair falling into her face. "I would not turn myself in just to give you up."

        For a split second, his left eyebrow rose and an expression of confusion crossed his face. It was gone before Anastasia could blink. He wore his mask well. Almost as well as those in her court. Maybe he was like her. A royal running away from a future that did not exist.

        "What do you mean?" The Zemeni boy piped up, his expression more confused than the other two. Although it was more amused than anything. "Turning yourself in just means you're in as much trouble as we are."

        "It would appear that way, wouldn't it?" She glanced at him, an amused smirk playing on her lips. "My family plans to ship me to Fjerda on the eve of my birthday. I'll be wed to Prince Rasmus the week after," she knew they didn't need an explanation. Nor had they asked for one. However, she needed to say something. Needed to tell someone how angry she was about the entire thing. 

        Nikolai was gone. This band of criminals seemed to be the next best thing.

        "You decided to leave your cushy palace and come after me as a result of your impending wedding?" His face remained impassive, something that she could not read. She hated that he wore the mask of a courtier. "I don't know if I'm impressed or insulted."

        "I hope it's impressed," Anastasia kept her eyes on his, not daring to back down from the demon in front of her. "At least enough to allow me to know your name."

        "It's Kaz," he did not tell her his surname. She supposed it did not matter in the long run. It wasn't as though she would be spending long with the man. He would more than likely give her up before she had a chance to find Nikolai. Before she had a chance to see the sea and feel the wind in her hair.

        Anastasia wished for freedom. A caged bird sang a lonely song. The song in her heart wanted more than that. It wanted to be among the greats, among the waltzes that she had adored from childhood. She wanted to live her life as she chose. If only so she could spend every second of each day surrounded by the notes, feeling the melodies in her heart and the beats in her heart. It was not a dream that any of Ravka's nobility would have understood.

        None but Nikolai.

        "Kaz," his name felt rough on her tongue. The syllables were brutal and cutting. Just like the man in front of her. "Perhaps we could make a deal."

        "What sort of deal would you offer?" His tone was indifferent but the spark in his eyes told her that he was at least intrigued.

        "I want passage. My brother is attending university in Kerch. I wish to see him a final time before I leave. I will keep the guards off of your back," she said, keeping any passion or hope from her voice. Vasily had once told her that negotiating meant selling your soul. That having too much enthusiasm would give her opponent the upper hand. Maybe he'd had a point.

        "We can avoid the guards without you, Princess," she hated the way he said it. Like it was an insult instead of her honorific. 

        "I can also offer payment," she said almost lazily. She slipped her hand into the pocket of her cloak, pulling out a ring that should not have been in her possession.

        She tossed it onto the table. The emerald sparkled in the light, the face perfect in every way. The Lantsov Emerald had been the stuff of legend when she was younger. As she had grown up, she had realized that it was nothing more than just a pretty gem. One that her parents prized above all others, but a gem nonetheless.

        It was supposed to go to Vasily's future bride, but Anastasia had found it unfair. She had stolen it from her mother's chest in the dead of night. Then, she had escaped using those secret passages. She had known the emerald would come in handy. Although she had assumed it would be used to prove she was the Princess of Ravka. Not payment.

        Kaz looked at the emerald for a second before he looked back at her. "I'm listening."

        "The Lantsov Emerald has been in my family for generations. It's Ravka's greatest treasure. I'm offering it to you for safe passage to and from Kerch. Also, protection while we're there. I'm willing to add three million kruge for you and your crew upon my safe return."

        She doubted that her parents had that much money. Or that they would be willing to pay that much for their only daughter's safety. She was ruining their plans. But she didn't care. They would ship her off without her ever seeing Nikolai again. They would sell her before she had the chance to find herself.

        Kaz looked at her, his gaze was unyielding and colder than the ice of Fjerda. She wondered if he had learned to be cold or if it had just come naturally to him. Was he a monster of a man? Or a man who had become a monster? There was a story there. Something that was hiding beyond his eyes, beyond the facade he painted on. The facade that she only hoped was a facade. She didn't know what she would have done had he admitted to it all being real.

        "Do you expect any of this to be easy, Princess?" He questioned, watching her as though she held a dagger in her hand instead of a valuable emerald.

        "No, quite the opposite actually." Anastasia was not an idiot. She knew they would have to cross the Fold, find passage on a ship, and prey to all the Saints that she was not followed by her parent's guards. She doubted they had even noticed her missing. The Sun Summoner disappeared at the perfect tie. She wouldn't have been able to slip away without the distraction.

        "We'll have to wait for a skiff," Kaz sat up straighter, almost as if to intimidate her. She matched his posture, not daring to back down for a single second. "No one knows how long that might take. A ship to Kerch will be another question entirely."

        "I assure you, Kaz," the name stabbed her throat, "I am prepared to stay as long as necessary. I will not go to Fjerda without seeing my brother."

        "Your brother will not be easy to find. Do you know how many rich sons have been sent to university?"

        "Nikolai will be quite easy for me to find." He didn't need to know that he would have an angry prince to deal with during all of this. Once Nikolai heard of her disappearance, he would be angry. He would claim she had no idea what she was doing. That she was being reckless and stubborn. That there had been no reason whatsoever for her to leave the safety of the palace. He would have told her that she was stupid for trusting a man who had broken into their home.

        She would take every second of his tongue lashing. As long as it kept her from never seeing him again.

        "I will have other business in Kerch," Kaz stated as he watched her. He was looking for any sign of weakness. She knew that he would try to betray her. He would see her as another piece on his chessboard. Just as everyone else had.

        She was no longer willing to be a game piece.

        "I'm quite aware of that," there was no reason for her to be the only job he'd take on. Even if she was offering more money than he'd probably ever see in his life. Money she did not know if she had. "Now, do we have a deal?"

        He did not offer her his hand, unlike what she had seen other men do with her brothers. She didn't know if she was supposed to be offended by the slight or not. Surely it had more to do with how he felt about the deal than anything to do with her. That or her nails were in a worse state than she had previously realized.

        "The deal is the deal, Princess." She wondered if she would ever hear anything else come from his lips. Would he call her by her honorific the entire time? Or would he loosen up? She didn't think it was important enough to complain about it. No matter how grating it was to hear him use it with nothing but venom in his tone.

        Anastasia picked the ring up from the table, giving him a kind smile. "You'll get this once I've been returned to Ravka, safe and sound."

        Kaz said nothing, just nodded his head as she stood from the table. At least he knew better than to fight her on when he would get his payment. It was probably for the benefit of her peace of mind. If she trusted him not to slit her throat, then maybe she would be less likely to put up a defense. She didn't know for sure. 

        "Enjoy your night," she told the three, giving them a curtsey. Her skirts flourished around her, almost making her wistful for a night of dancing underneath the stars. "I expect to see you here tomorrow."

        "Of course," he nodded his head once, looking at his crew instead of her. She wondered if they thought she was all talk. Surely a princess would run from danger instead of towards it. She should have been trapped in her golden cage with her jewels and her grand piano that she was not allowed to touch. They would assure she'd change her mind before entering the Fold.

        The look on his face told her everything that she needed to know. He may not have expected her to come after him, but he knew now to expect her to back out. To do anything other than what she had said. Surely he should have realized by now that Anastasia was a woman of her word. She'd found him. She'd stolen the greatest heirloom her family had and run away from home. She had done everything that no one would expect from her.

        The same things they would expect from Nikolai.

        The thought nearly blinded her as she stepped into the sunlight. Had she begun missing her brother so much that she had decided to act as though she were him? He would have told her that it was a waste of her own potential. He would blame himself for making her a mirror of him. It would be bad enough to have one of them roaming the streets of Ravka. They didn't need two.

        But she knew that she was not like her brother. She didn't see the world as one big game that she had to win. She just wanted to dance, to feel the music filling her veins and speaking in it's beautiful secret language to her soul. She knew it was a silly wish, one that she would never truly get to experience. She'd have to marry a man she didn't love. She would have to dance only when it was appropriate. Anastasia would lock herself up for her country. 

        She just needed a chance to dance before she did so. 

        Kerch may have been known for it's criminal underbelly, but it was the only safe place for her. She would be far from whatever trouble the Sun Summoner was bringing. She would be able to find Nikolai. Anastasia would be able to yell at him for hours at a time for not writing her back as much as he should. She would be free for the first time in her life.

        As long as she did not get her throat cut or held for a ransom it should be perfectly safe. 

        Anastasia headed back to her room. It was not safe to dawdle on street corners. She had no idea if her parents had discovered that she was missing. She had no idea if anyone would be out looking for her. Vasily wouldn't be. He had too much to do, too much to prepare for. The time for him to take the throne was almost upon them. 

        He had less time for his little sister than normal. She felt as though Nikolai had abandoned her. Perhaps this unwanted isolation had been the truth behind her desperate need to flee. Perhaps knowing that she was alone, and would be for the rest of her miserable life, had been what drove her to running as far as she could from the walls of her gilded cage.

        She slipped up the creaky stairs, using the gentle creaks as though they were a melody. She craved music. Craved hearing the waltzes, the symphonies. She needed it as though it was oxygen. She needed to hear every beat, feel every note. Alas, her life would not go in that direction. She would sooner end up hidden behind blocks of ice than in a symphony hall. Especially after what she had done.

        As the princess entered the room she had rented, she did not notice a figure standing silently in the corner. 

        She took off her cloak, tossing it down on a small chair in the corner of the room. Her back was to the silent woman, never once noticing her as she began to freshen up. The day was still long, the sun having only just hit the middle of the sky. She planned on actually doing something besides make shady deals in the back of a pub. 

        Anastasia lifted her face, water dripping from her eyelashes. She caught sight of the woman in the mirror, her spine instantly stiffening.

        "Your Highness," her voice was soft as she stepped out from the shadows. "We've a lot to discuss."

[uncurlinglikeflowers]

Queer Trauma, Coming Out, & the Long Road to Self-Love and Healing

As I’ve reflected on my past, I’ve discovered that my adolescence may be one of, if not THE most traumatic time of my life thus far as a queer person. The last few months with my incredible therapist have made me realize that the years of anxiety, panic, fear, self-loathing, confusion, and depression have scarred me deeper than I had previously thought. She also made me realize that this is at least partially because I have never really talked about it openly and in depth in a healthy and productive way before, which is what inspired me to start this blog to share my experiences with others that are currently struggling with their identity, or to allow those that are also currently healing from the trauma of their previously closeted life feel a little more seen.

I knew from a VERY young age that I was different, but didn’t know how or what it meant. I was a lonely kid for a lot of my childhood without many friends. I didn’t want to play football with the boys during recess. I sought companionship at lunch with a table full of girls more often than not, which in itself also made me feel incredibly self conscious at the time as well. 

I asked, (with incredible shame) for the “girl’s toy” from the backseat in the McDonald’s drive-thru because I loved to play with the mini-Barbies and craft entire storylines for them. They were easier to hide in my room than regular sized Barbies. I spent most summers off school alone playing video games and reading book and book after book. I didn’t really click with the boys down the street. I was obsessed with Britney Spears and the color purple. I was lonely without really knowing what it meant.

I feel as though that fear I felt in my childhood and adolescence held me back from SO much. Middle school in particular was absolute hell. I hated it. I always felt constantly insecure and uncomfortable. I had absolutely zero confidence or self love. I hated my body and how I looked. 

While other kids experienced their first relationships and first feelings of romantic love, I was convinced that it was just not a possibility for me. On top of being deeply closeted, scared, confused, lonely, and in deep denial, girls didn’t go for me anyway. I was the awkward chunky guy struggling with his identity feeling like he had to make up for it by working extra hard to get perfect grades and give himself 100% to other people. I tried not to think about it too much, but hearing about relationships, seeing people kiss in the hallways between classes, and girls talking about what they liked in boys which was the complete opposite of me... it was hell.

To make my self consciousness worse, I felt supremely uncomfortable in gym class and the boys’ locker room in particular. I was ashamed of my body and also self conscious for wanting to look at the other boys; terrified that they would catch on and beat me senseless. Hearing them consistently call each other f*g in a very VERY negative context drove me deep into the closet as the identity I already felt shame for was directly correlated with being a ridiculed outcast, and something that was inherently, disgustingly wrong and unacceptable. The worst insult teenage boys could deliver to each other in the safety of an unchaperoned locker room in a hick town often not kind to queer people or those that were different. I SO desperately wanted to fit in with the other boys instead of being any version of who I actually was.

Part of that façade of blending in with my hetero peers involved having a girlfriend for two months in 8th grade. We didn’t even kiss, let alone approach any sexual situations. I’m sure she had her suspicions. I was utterly obsessed with the concept of blending in by having a girlfriend like the other boys and just having someone special in my life, even if we really didn’t even do any couple things. 

Upon reflection, I don’t think the concept of ever being sexual with her ever crossed my mind in the slightest. Even the idea of kissing her scared the hell out of me, and not just from first kiss nerves. Deep down I knew it wasn’t right for me. Don’t EVER tell a kid they’re too young to know. Fast forward to modern times, my first kiss with a girl was with a close friend YEARS after I came out. Go figure. 

The idea of caring about and loving myself was non-existent at that time. It’s a very VERY new and ongoing journey for me. I didn’t really care about myself at all. I hadn’t learned how to. Mom was in and out of cancer treatments, and would later pass during my senior year of college and kick off my coming out process, but that’s a whole other post for another day. Spending pretty much my entire childhood watching mom deal with being sick, I didn’t want to cause my family any more discomfort. I was full of self loathing, fear, and confusion, but it seemed irrelevant and unimportant because I didn’t want to be a hindrance. 

Instead, I tried so desperately to be the perfect kid and son by befriending my teachers, being a model student, and joining band and a bunch of organizations to stay as busy as possible to stay distracted and impress everyone else.I didn’t love myself because I didn’t think I was allowed to or deserved to in my own head. While I did finally make more meaningful friends in high school, I continued to go through the motions to make my family proud to make up for the scared closeted kid who thought he had to make up for his queerness as though it were a shameful weakness, and it seemed to be the only thing that could possibly matter at the time.

Non-surprisingly, I never really knew any openly queer boys in grade school. It probably legitimately wasn’t all that safe to come out in that environment. I’ll never forget the two boys I saw holding hands in a Wal-Mart that absolutely shook up my entirely reality, because I had never seen romantic same-sex affection in person before. 

There was a lesbian couple at my school, but people said awful, degrading things about them behind their backs constantly and acted like they were the biggest freaks. Another boy in my grade in high school hadn’t come out yet officially but was very flamboyant, and thus was treated just as awful as the lesbian couple, if not worse. Other kids just regularly said despicable things about him without even knowing him at all. I even heard parents make blatantly homophobic jokes about him. 

His life had to have been hell, and as a fully out queer adult, I still regret not being able to stand up for him more. That definitely forced me deeper into the closet. He wasn’t even out but got talked about like he was some disgusting abomination. How could I ever assume that I could ever come out, let alone kiss, date, and love another boy? I HATED the idea of any attention being placed on me, so I just wanted to survive school at that point.

I had multiple people throughout high school ask me if I were gay just as though it were the most casual question rather than a triggering inquiry that sent me into a mental frenzy every damn time it was presented. Having one of the jock boys ask me such a deeply personal question in passing on the way to my seat in Algebra class was traumatizing. I of course always said no, as at the time I was still convinced it was a passing phase and that I couldn’t actually be gay. 

At home, in the days of Myspace, I got anonymous messages telling me they were pretty sure I was gay. The anonymity was arguably worse in some ways. 

At a young age, I became hyper aware of how I carried myself, talked, and acted. I loathed hearing my voice or seeing myself in pictures, for fear of sounding too feminine or standing or emoting too gay. I obsessed over the concept that boys and girls carried their books a certain way, or the boys would be labelled as queer. I was paranoid about where I shopped for clothes, the colors I wore, and the length and fit of my shorts. 

In middle school, I got a lilac colored trapper keeper for school that I ultimately had my parents take back to the store for a different one because I felt so self conscious about it all day. At home I played with my little Barbies, but didn’t dare tell the kids at school for fear of rejection and isolation. Overall, I felt grossly incompetent, irrelevant, and unimportant in my own mind. Unworthy of love and of course, deeply ashamed for my attraction to the other boys.

I never had anyone whatsoever to help guide me through the coming out process, because I didn’t know a single queer person who could. I’ve now dedicated a good amount of my energy trying to be that person I desperately could have used then for anyone else that needs that role to be filled, and for someone to tell them that someone is incredibly proud of them. An obscene amount of queer people don’t ever hear “I’m so proud of you!” when they really need it the most. 

I also didn’t have any good queer representation on TV or in movies, so I really did feel completely alone at times. Most queer characters in media existedly solely to be made fun of and mocked, ratcher than celebrated, properly represented, or God forbid, given a legitimate love story, and the public’s reaction was so frequently one of such repugnance and disapproval. 

This was also probably about the time that a close family member told me that he had punched a gay guy for hitting on him when he was younger, a story he again felt the need to share with a now ex-boyfriend and I when we were dating, as though that’s not a horrifying thing for an already scared and closeted queer to hear from their own family. 

I think during middle school in particular is when my anxiety and depression issues started, but I assumed either that I was being a baby and that my feelings were invalid, or that it was just teenage angst. The idea that boys and men should mask their emotions and feelings and feel shame rather than expressing them was, (and seemingly appears to continue to be) a very real thing in small towns and society in general. 

It didn’t occur to me at the time that I was experiencing varying levels of almost daily trauma that would fuck me up well into adulthood. If you take anything at all from this post, let it be that the conversation around mental health, (and men in particular in this instance) NEEDS to change.

Another particularly noteworthy event in my queer adolescence was when two of my friends, (both girls, shocker) discovered gay porn on my computer. While they pestered me about if it were mine while they laughed, I of course lied. I felt a deep shame and utter humiliation. On reflection, fucking IMAGINE if they had been able to be gentle and understanding with me and told me they loved me and still would even if I were gay. From then on I was terrified that they would bring that day up to our other friends as a joke. Perhaps they did a time or two, I don’t recall. These same friends made jokes about the queer kid I mentioned earlier, and both parents of one of the girls regularly gossiped and made homophobic jokes about him when I was at their house 

By the time school dances rolled around, I knew I would never be able to go with anyone but friends. Even if I weren’t still deeply closeted, I’m pretty sure my school still had pretty strict rules against bringing same-sex dates to Prom. While I definitely had fun with my friends at the dances we went to, I so desperately longed for a world where I could dance with a boy who loved me like everyone else was able to.

The loneliness and isolation I felt at the end of those nights could be unbearable because it didn’t seem possible for me, even as I looked into the future. I was fully convinced I would live a very lonely life without anyone to love me the way I craved. I didn’t belong in that world, and wouldn’t ever be set up for that kind of happiness, joy, and feeling of content. I would live for everyone else but myself because that’s just the way the world worked for us queers.

I wish I had had just one single person then who gave me full permission to be my authentic queer self on any level. Someone who could hug me and tell me life after high school and college could and would be vastly different. Someone to tell me I wasn’t an unlovable disgusting freak, but rather a kind-hearted boy who deserved a deep love someday because I was a valid and gentle soul who deserved the world. I certainly deserved more than the shame and pain that constantly haunted me. 

Maybe then I wouldn’t have thought about death before 30 so much and obsessed over it well into my college career. I might have realized that I needed to learn to be gentle with myself and take care of and prioritize me and my own happiness. So many people let me down and convinced me that I was a filthy sinner and an over-emotional kid with invalid perspectives and feelings. As most of my closest friends, (that I cannot stress enough have been the ones to save my life and encourage the authenticity that I present so proudly today) came into my life after I had already come out fully, they weren’t around during those dark early struggles. 

Sometimes as an adult I still wonder what it would have felt like and how profoundly different my life could be if someone had held me close and sincerely told me they’re proud of me for what I survived and overcame, and told me that they can’t wait to see my eyes light up with the love I’ve always dreamed of in a boy, and that I still continue to seek. 

Young, baby gay Travis would be in absolute awe if he knew what life had in store for him back then. To see a future version of himself painting his nails, wearing whatever he wanted, dancing with strangers at pride festivals, having the time of his life at drag shows with his queer family and falling in love with boys? Proudly holding a boyfriend’s hand walking downtown in a busy city? Openly telling his dad about the cute boy he’s going on a date with? Going Facebook official with a boy? Being a super vocal advocate and inspiration and mentor to not only queer family, but to people he hardly talks to but manages to influence and inspire just by unashamedly being himself? Genuinely looking forward to kissing his new husband in front of family and friends on his wedding day, knowing it’ll be one of the happiest days of his entire life? 

Holy. Actual. Fuck.

Travis of six or seven years ago wouldn’t have even dared to dream this big, let alone baby gay Travis. He probably would have been utterly mortified but SO comforted to see that future life when he didn’t believe it to be any level of possible.

I’m so fucking proud of myself for this journey, and no one will ever take that away from me or water down my trauma or the grueling work I’ve put in. Genuinely, this is the one thing in my life that makes me absolutely burst with pride. 

I think I want to learn how to keep baby Travis in mind with this pride without having to revisit the trauma in the process. Look back at him with open arms, excited to see him learn and blossom into his actual self someday. Even if he could have desperately used someone like the me I am today, he survived then, and continues to persevere today. 

He’s queer as fuck, and proud to shout it from the rooftops. He’s a voice and an advocate for the voiceless. A shining light and beacon of hope for those still navigating their terrifying escape from their closeted life. He’s going to meet a man someday and love him so deeply in the way baby Travis always dreamed of. Above all, he’s going to continue to make that little guy so incredibly proud because he knows now the importance of loving himself in the process. 

I’m so proud of that scared little boy. I just wish he could have known then how proud he would make himself one day.   

As you talk with the queer people in your life, please keep in mind that just about all of us have incredible trauma directly tied to our identities. Talk to them with love, compassion, and understanding. Tell them how proud of them you are for pursuing their own happiness in the face of oppression and rejection. 

Demand better from elected officials. Advocate for us. Shut down homophobic ideals, even if you think it’ll make your family and friends uncomfortable to hear. Support queer content, artists and creators. Be a proud ally, but don’t ever allow yourself to take the spotlight away from actual queer people or our queer spaces. Mourn, love, and celebrate with us. 

Understand why pride is SO fucking important to us, and why you never have to worry about needing your own pride events. Listen to us and love us for exactly who we are, and were always meant to be. Love is the most incredible, beautiful, and often rare human experience we’re able to experience during our short time on this planet, and it should always be celebrated.

Happy Pride!

[bluesylveon2]

My My, I Could Never Let You Go

Summary: Sasha Zoe just wants her dad to walk her down the aisle. There is only one problem: she doesn't know who her dad is! Sasha invites 3 men in hopes of finding out which one is her father. What could possibly go wrong?

Pairings: Levi x Hange, Sasha x Niccolo, and other background relationships

Disclaimer: This is a Levihan Mamma Mia au. This fanfic is inspired by Mamma Mia which is directed by Phyllida Loyd, written by Catherine Johnson, and uses music from the pop group ABBA. Attack on Titan is a manga/anime series written by Hajime Isayama and published by Kondasha

Author’s Note: I’m glad you guys are liking this series. Tbh I was ready for it to sink the moment haha. Anyways, I am uploading another side story because...Feb 22 is MY BDAY!! 🎉 I hope you guys like it!

Need to catch up? Catch up here!

Ch 3: Money, Money, Money

Levi stood on a different part of the yacht watching the waves go by as it headed to Kalokairi. He originally sat next to Erwin until the other man, Mike, started sniffing him randomly. Levi did not like how close Mike was to him, so he decided to sit in a different part of the yacht. Levi and Eren had already helped Mike and Gelgar fix the sails. Now the three men were sitting around and watching the waves pass by while Gelgar was busy sailing the ship. 

(Mike claims Levi smells like detergent)

Erwin was staring at the invitation he received months ago. Mike, who was curious, took a small peek and recognized the invite anywhere.

“Bride or groom?” Mike asks

“Bride” Erwin answers and puts the invitation away. He slightly turns his head towards Mike  “although I actually never met her.” This interests Levi. 

Erwin turns to fully face Mike “I know who you are, you’re Mike Zacharias, aren’t you” Erwin recognized the man from 21 years ago when he saw Mike with Hange. Of course, he did not mention that part out loud. Who knew one of Erwin’s favorite authors would be him? It must be a small world after all.

“Uh-huh,” Mike looked at Erwin and agreed. Mike sniffs Erwin discretely. 

(Erwin smells like cologne) 

“You know,” Erwin began “your books have really helped me get through the dull business trips. I may look like I am living out my life in some fantasy. In reality, I am surveying across some corner of the planet’ 

“You should try it for real sometime” Mike suggests

Erwin chuckles “Certainly. I’ll never be the spontaneous adventurer. Not with my current job at the firm. 

Levi, overhearing the conversation, turns to Erwin and Mike “You’re a close friend of Hange?” It’s a good thing Levi wore shades or else the men would see the glare he was giving them. Levi wanted to know how she knew these men and what their relationship is to her. 

Mike shook his head and looked up at Levi “No, I haven’t heard from her in 20 years-”

This raised Levi’s suspicion “Really?" It's a good thing the two men didn't see the shock in Levi's eyes. 

Mike continued on “-then she sends this invite out of the blue.”

Now it was Erwin’s turn to be confused. He assumed Mike was still close to Hange. “You know, that’s a coincidence. Neither have I.” 

“Going about!” Gelgar yells at them from the front of the boat. 

Levi leaves his spot to help out “You got it?” he asks Erwin

“Right,” Erwin says and stands up. He unties the rope from the side of the boat (AN: I don’t know anything about boats), but it manages to pull him; almost making Erwin fall in the water. Luckily, he kept his balance and saved himself from falling.

“You ok?” Mike asks and looks at Erwin worriedly

“I’m fine” Erwin calls back and pulls the rope

The sails move, and the yacht begins heading towards Kalokairi island. 

---

Hange was driving to the port in her light blue Land Rover. She is going to meet her best friends Nanaba and Rico. Nanaba Foster is Hange’s English friend and a fun-loving author. Rico Brzenska is Hange’s Polish friend who is a three-time divorcee. 

Hange met the two in New College in Oxford when Hange was studying Biological Sciences. Nanaba was studying English, and Rico was studying Music. The three were an unlikely group since they were in different parts of the college. Hange met Nanaba first in the library when Nanaba asked Hange for feedback for a story she was writing. Hange loved listening to Nanaba’s stories, and she (and Rico) were her number one supporters on her journey to become an author. Hange and Nanaba met Rico while walking through the Garden Quad on campus. Rico was surrounded by many admirers who would not leave her alone. Hange and Nanaba saved Rico from her admirers and were confused when they saw how annoyed Rico was. Rico was not annoyed by the two saving her; the issue was that none of the guys were up to her high standards. Rico was looking for a man who was going to make a lot of money. It was like a 6th sense for her, but Rico could tell who is/is not compatible with her with one look. 

Nanaba and Rico have been with Hange through her highs and lows. They were present when they performed as a band in Kalokairi, comforted her after Hange’s crazy love life, and were present at Sasha’s christening. Hange cares for the two dearly. She saw them as part of her family (other than Pieck) when she felt like had no one (except for Pieck, but she has her own life to live. Hange didn’t want Pieck to worry about her too much ).

Hange parked her car just in time to see Nanaba and Rico get off the ferry. Hange runs to the edge of the dock but doesn't run to meet her friends just yet. 

"Well will you look at what the tide brought it" Hange yells

Nanaba turns and places her back towards Rico "For one night-" Nanaba yells back and holds a pretend microphone up in the air. 

"-and one night only" Rico copies Nanaba's pose except she Rico is facing the opposite direction. Rico and Nanaba stand back to back. 

"Hange and the Survey Corps!" they all yell at the same time. Hange runs up to her friends and meets them in the middle of the dock to hug them. It's been many years since they last visited, and Sasha was only 9!

Hange came up with the band name to illustrate her personality. Hange loves to discover and learn about new places. It's the main reason why she now lives in Kalokairi after hearing so much about it from Pieck. 

(Rico's suggestion was Hange and the Garrison, but it didn't have the same ring as Survey Corps). 

“Look at you,” Hange says to her friends. They look more beautiful since the last time she saw them.

“Look at you” Rico reflects back to Hange.

“You look fantastic,” Hange tells Rico as she poses and shows off her latest designer clothes.

Rico laughs and points at Hange “You look like an old hippie.” Hange has dressed in her signature outfit after all (overalls with a white shirt. She was also wearing a hat this time)

Hange put her hands in her pockets and slightly leaned back. She poses by raising her left foot up in its toes and puts her weight on her right leg. 

“She looks fabulous” Nanaba compliments Hange.

Hange noticed Rico’s new outfit. It’s different from when she last saw her, and it looks more expensive. Hange wants an outfit like that for herself.

Hange walks up to Rico and grasps her white jacket “Where did you get these?” she asks with a gleam in her eyes.

“Husband number three!” Rico laughs along with Nanaba and Hange

‘Well, I’m sure you must be excited to see Sasha again.” Hange laughs as they pull apart, and starts walking towards Hange’s car. Nanaba and Rico put their stuff in the back and hop in.

“So any men at this wedding?-” Rico asks Hange as they leave the pier and head to the hotel. 

Hange couldn't help but laugh. She had a good feeling where this might be going.

“Gorgeous Greeks of independent means?” Rico inquires and waves a hand around

“Here we go again! Husband number four!” Nanaba yells. She also had a feeling of the direction of Rico’s question was going. 

Rico laughs at Nanaba’s statement “Not for me. For her.” She gestures to Nanaba. 

Rico knows how successful Nanaba has been since becoming an author. She thinks Nanaba needed a handsome (and rich. It’s a plus) to marry. She knows about Nanaba’s previous crush on Mike from 21 years ago. Sure he is caring, a flirt, and owns a boat, but Rico knows Nanaba can find a man who is 20x better for her. The last time she heard of Mike was from Hange, and it was from their nightly boat trips. Rico and Nanaba left a few days after meeting Mike. Nowadays, Hange does not talk much about him anymore.

“He’s coming!” Nanaba yells while ignoring Rico. She knows she does not need a man right now)))

Rico continues to go on anyway “Now that Nanaba’s book is a bestseller and she has the whole world stuffing-”

“Stuffing of what? Vegetables? Meat?” Nanaba laughs

“Don’t give Sasha any ideas, Nanaba.” Hange teases

“I just think it’s time to find Mr. Right,” Rico tells Nanaba with a lace of concern in her voice. 

Nanaba dismisses Rico’s suggestion instead “Oh please! Boring!”

“You two are great role models for Sasha. A serial bride and lone wolf.” Hange laughs 

“That’s me!” Nanaba points to herself with her thumb and grins “I’m a lone wolf”

Nanaba begins howling like a wolf as Hange drives up towards the hotel. Hange laughs. That’s the Nanaba she knows and loves. Meanwhile, Rico looks dejected after another failed attempt at getting Nanaba a husband.

Nanaba stops howling and looks over at Hange “So when are the two love birds flying the nest?” She is aware of Sasha’s friends leaving the island, except for Sasha herself. Good thing Niccolo is financially stable and is ok with staying in Kalokairi to be with her. 

“Oh, God! Who knows?” Hange exclaims as she parks her land rover  “I don’t know what is going on in Sasha’s head sometimes. She wants a big, white wedding-” Hange throws her hands up in the air to emphasize how big Sasha wanted her wedding to be. “-and she and Niccolo are making big plans for the hotel. Sometimes I don’t know if she will ever leave!” 

“Yeah, but do you really want her to leave?” Nanaba asks questioningly. Hange could see it in Nanaba’s eyes despite Nanaba wearing shades. 

“Well, I just want what is best for her'' Hange says and looks out to the distance. She then turns to her friends. “Of course not!” The three women laugh and exit the car. 

Hange looks up to find Niccolo and all of Sasha’s guy friends heading in her direction.

“Niccolo! Come meet my backup girls. Guys, come catch up with Rico and Nanaba!” she yells.

“Backup girls, my ass!” Nanaba and Rico yell at the same time. They weren’t going to let Hange have all of the spotlight.

“He’s the leading man for tomorrow’s shindig,” Hange says as Niccolo walks over to Nanaba.

“The lucky man” Niccolo laughs. He extends his arms out towards Nanaba but does not hug her yet.

“You must be-” he pauses a bit to think about the names of Hange’s friends Sasha mentioned to him before their arrival.

“Nanaba” 

Nanaba nods in approval. “I am” Nanaba smiles. 

“How are you?” Niccolo asks as he leans forward to hug Nanaba

“Very well” Nanaba laughs. She likes this man already.

Niccolo lets go of Nanaba so she can catch up with Sasha’s friends. Niccolo heads over to Rico as she leaves the car.

“And you must be Rico. I’ve heard so much about you” Now it’s Rico’s turn to hug Niccolo.

“All bad, I hope” Rico laughs.

Niccolo smiles. He’s heard a lot about her from Hange “Yes” he nods.

“And all true!” Hange yells from the trunk. Niccolo noticed the big suitcase Hange tries to pull out from the trunk. He quickly walks over to Hange to help.

“Hange. Let me get them for you.” Niccolo says and grabs the suitcase for her. Nanaba and Rico look over after talking to the rest of Sasha’s friends. They watch the interaction with a smile on their faces. They definitely like Niccolo. 

---

“Why did I wear stilettos?” Rico complains as she climbs up the steps to the hotel.

“Oxygen. Sweet oxygen” Nanaba gasps after finally finding a place to sit. Niccolo and the other guys bring Nanaba and Rico’s luggage to their hotel room. 

Hange was amused by her friends reactions. It’s been many years since they last visited. Meanwhile, Hange was unfazed with climbing up all those steps. Heck, she could most likely run up a flight of stairs and sing a musical number at the same time! 

Sasha hears the sounds of her aunt’s voice and runs out to her balcony. It seems like they aren’t used to climbing up so many stairs after all. Sasha laughs. It’s been years since she’s last seen them. 

“Aunt Nanaba!” She yells and smiles gleefully before running down to meet her aunts

“Heeeyyy,” Nanaba calls back. She is still exhausted from the climb up.

Rico turns to Hange “Look at Sasha. She is so beautiful!” 

“I know” Hange replies gleefully. She is proud of how her little girl grew up to be a beautiful woman.

Sasha pauses briefly when she makes it to the door. Nanaba notices Sasha nearby and the big smile on her face. She can’t believe how much Sasha has grown.

“Come here, Sasha!” Nanaba says and opens her arms for a hug. Sasha runs over to her with excitement in her body.

Nanaba pulls away from Sasha to see how much she has grown in person.

“Sasha Zoe, you are more gorgeous-” Nanaba places her palms on Sasha’s cheeks and lightly shakes her head “-every time I see you. You really do.” She compliments her. Sasha couldn’t hide her happiness after Nanaba complimented her.

Rico looks over to Sasha from her spot next to Hange “I bet you don’t remember me.”

“Not with all that makeup and plastic surgery” Nanaba teases with a smirk and Hange laughs.

Sasha runs up to Rico to hug her. “Of course I do, Auntie Rico. You haven’t changed at all.” 

“I’m so happy for you,” Rico tells Sasha during their hug.

“Look at my baby,” Hange says proudly and gently pulls Sasha away from Rico to hug her herself.

“Her whole life ahead of her” Hange coos and leans towards her daughter

Sasha laughs at her mother’s antics “Oh please, I’m getting married, Mom. I’m not joining a convent!” she says while wriggling away from her mother’s grasp. Sasha starts heading towards the hotel.

“She’s feisty. I like that” Rico compliments. 

Nanaba walks up to Hange and puts an arm around her shoulder “She’s a chip off the old block” she laughs.

Hange dismisses the thought as she and her friends climbed up the steps to the hotel. “If she were like me, then she wouldn’t get married at 20”

“Or married at all” Rico chimes in. Hange laughs

Hange keeps walking and realizes something. She forgot to put the laundry down! Hange groans internally and turns back towards her best friends

“Sorry! I meant to take the laundry down before you came. I would have asked Moblit, but he was busy fixing some things.” Hange pushes some of the sheets off to the side to make space to walk through

“You think with all this new technology, they would make one make the beds” Hange grabs the nearest sheet in front of her and rolls it up as she walks. Sasha notches her mom carrying the sheet and begins walking towards her. 

“If only you had majored in Engineering instead of Biology” Rico jokes

“If they did, you’d be going along behind it making them again. I know you, Mom” Sasha laughs as she grabs the sheet off of Hange’s hands and kisses her on the cheek. Meanwhile, Niccolo walks up to Rico and Nanaba with glasses of water. They were exhausted from the climb up.

“But I am gonna modern it!” Hange calls back. She turns around and notices Niccolo.

“Tell them about your idea” Hange walks off to do a few errands while Niccolo presents his plan.

“The guys and I are designing a website. I think this place has so much potential, and no one knows we’re here. The only way you could know is from locals. I was one of the lucky few who got to experience the island for myself.-” Sasha walks towards Niccolo and stands by his side. 

“-All of Sasha’s friends want to pitch in their specialties too. If we market it really well, then people would come flooding in.”

Rico and Nanaba couldn’t stop smiling after hearing the idea. They too got to experience Kalokairi’s beauty. It is a shame very few people got to see it after they first visited. 

“We just want this to be the ultimate romantic destination” Sasha pipes in “This was once the site of Aphrodite's Fountain. You know, the goddess of love. If you drank the water-” she turns and faces Niccolo with a loving smile on her face.

“-You’re supposed to find true love and perfect happiness” Niccolo couldn’t stop smiling at his fiancee. He goes in to kiss her.  

Hange is already walking back by the time Sasha finishes explaining her plan for the island. 

“I’ll take a glass of that” Rico tells Hange and wraps an arm around her shoulder.

“I’ll take a whole bucket,” Nanaba says and drinks some of her water.

“Aphrodite's Spa?” Rico questions Hange as they head inside the hotel. They didn’t need to stand there while Sasha and Niccolo were spending some quality time together. That would be awkward for all of them.

“I thought you didn’t want a boatload of tourists?” Nanaba adds

Hange turns her head to face them while she walks ‘Oh no. Not boatloads. No.” She says firmly

“But you know, a few more would be nice” Hange playfully rolls her eyes and laughs. 

Hange walks into the bathroom and remembers the toilet situation. She turns back to her friends and becomes serious.

“Now, the thing about the toilet. If it does not flush, then go get Moblit. If he is unavailable, then go-” Hange moves her hands in a go motion “-and just walk away. Come back after a while and it should..” Hange trails off 

She puts her hand near her ear nervously before walking off. “Nothing works around here except for me and Moblit.” 

Rico and Nanaba look at Hange worryingly as Hange walks towards the main room.

Hange stops near the window. The glass pans were open, but the shutters were closed. Hange turns to her friends “I’ve been running this hotel for 15 years, and I never had a day off. I constantly work though I have an assistant!”

Rico and Nanaba look at each other nervously. Hange sounds like she was ready to blow with her “I’m fine, but I’m not really fine” tone in her voice. Hange noticed their exchange.

“But it’s fine. I’m fine” Hange tries to reassure them and leans on the window shutter causing it to fall to the ground nearly hitting Moblit and a few other workers.

Hange grabs the window sill and looks down at who she possibly hit. “Oh my god! I’m so sorry Moblit!”

“I’m ok Ms. Hange. I didn’t get hurt!” He calls back hoping to ease the situation. He leans down to pick up the broken shutter. Looks like another thing to add to the list. 

Hange sighs before complaining to her friends “I work hard every day to pay the bills, and there’s not enough left for me.”

Nanaba saw a nearby chair and was sitting down to be comfortable while listening to Hange’s story. She knew the moment Hange starts talking then there is no stopping her. 

“Don’t sit down there. It’s broken” Hange says before walking off. Luckily, Nanaba caught herself on time.

Hange walks over to the balcony and looks out to the sea. Rico and Nanba follow behind her.

“You know, I have plans, and it would work if I married a wealthy man. Think about all the things I can do!” Hange exclaims 

The trio heads towards the surprisingly empty kitchen. Hange leans back on a counter. Rico stands on her right, and Nanaba stands on her left

“Wealthy men are hard to find” Rico states.

“I can’t get him off my mind. Even if he were free, he wouldn’t want me!” Hange exclaims and walks to another part of the hotel.

Nanaba and Rico share a look before following. They knew someone who did fit the criteria. Too bad he broke Hange’s heart to marry someone else. 

“Might as well go to Las Vegas or Monaco!” Hange complains by the time Rico and Nanaba catch up to her in the hotel plaza

Hange could see it already. The boat rides, the places she could visit, discover flora and fauna. The possibilities are endless! Sadly for her, it’s a rich man’s world. 

Hange was not paying much attention when a sudden crack appeared in the plaza. She and the others moved away on time to avoid stepping on it

“What happened here?” Rico gasps 

“The earth moved! We’re falling apart!” Hange says while fascinated by the sudden shift in the ground 

“Really?” Nanaba asks skeptically. Hange waves it off with one hand.

“Don’t think much about it” She laughs and grabs her friend’s arms. “Come on. Let’s go have fun!” 

It’s time to drink wine and have some girl time! 

---

Meanwhile, on another part of the island, Levi, Erwin, and Mike had arrived in Kalokairi. All three men were heading towards the hotel. 

©: This is where I insert all rights reserved stuff. This story belongs to me. Do not modify or republish

Author’s notes:

I was going to use another name for Hange’s band, but Survey Corps has the same number of syllables as Dynamos.

Nanaba does not have a last name, so I picked Foster like banana foster haha (a dessert made from bananas and vanilla ice cream, with a sauce made from butter, brown sugar, cinnamon, dark rum, and banana liqueur.) It was better than Pudding or Bread

[werezmastarbucks]

dayton

honeymoon masterlist

word count: 2631

music: air catcher by twenty one pilots

The tiniest part of you wanted to go to Columbus, because you loved that place. But the bigger part, the one that connected your brain to your hands clutching the wheel, told you if you fail, you’ll have all the time in the world to go back to Columbus. To wherever the fuck you want. Kai said he can operate practically any type of transport, but doesn’t like ships. Flying was fine with you as long as he really knew not to crash a plane. You had to constantly remind yourself that he had many years to learn everything.

As you drove, you were revising the CDs Kai found in the car. He was putting the disk in and pressing play, or sometimes he just read the names of the bands. He opened the window and threw away all the CDs that were named trash. Now that you two were misplacing them, they were supposed to stay there on the road after Kai sent them out of the window, you were asking. Right? But, crashing on the ground, they were damaged, so did it fall under the order part of the spell? Were they to return into the car after you deliberately got rid of them? 

“You’ll know tomorrow”, Kai replied playfully. Surely he knew how that works, but it seemed he was unwilling to just tell you everything about this prison, and wanted you to discover things for yourself. 

Dayton was empty, too. Just like Roanoke and Huntington on the way through. You found this stillness somewhat soothing. You didn’t like gatherings and crowds, didn’t like noise and people. You decided to dive back into the three foot world, and just enjoy the empty roads for once, and start worrying when the realization of utter loneliness settles in.

You looked on your right, where Parker was sitting, staring at the cover of “East of the Sun, West of the Moon” by a-ha (do not throw them away under any circumstances!) in his hands, with one brow raised, belt across his chest. You still felt like you were alone here although he was next to you. He still didn’t feel like a human person - more like a part of this world. As inanimate. He was remarkably quiet, and you knew it wasn’t for good. 

On the Germantown Street, you stopped the car, feeling tired. The sun was about to set down completely, the May angle leading it onto your left. You got out and stretched, and Kai stepped out of the car a minute later.

“Where will we sleep? Any good hotels?”

He shrugged.

“I haven’t been in Dayton”.

“You haven’t been to Dayton?” you repeated.

“That’s what I said”.

“Ever?”

“Ever”. 

He looked around and stared at the sky again. Parker has been glitching like that since last night, when he stared up as if trying to cope. You looked at his upturned nose and his youthful face, thinking, he is in his forties. This dude is going to be fifty years old soon, and he is a nut case, and I have him on my hands.

He looked back at you.

“Adventure begins here”, his tone was half-questioning, and he smiled. The way it curled his capricious mouth, his eyes glowing, told you he didn’t really believe in getting out. You’ve only spent here a day, but he gave up already. He knew there was no getting out, and he just took it as a long journey, to keep his girlfriend sane. You had no idea where he thought he was going. 

You walked back to the car and took your bag and the phone. Kai’s eyes wouldn’t leave you.

“You’re changing the car again?”

“Uh-huh. Why not? It’s not like someone’s going to report them all?”

He smiled again. 

You walked down the street, ghostly and quiet. No stray dogs, no garbage being thrown around by the wind - but that’s likely due to Dayton being very clean. Kai wouldn’t bother taking the bag out of your hands, walking with his head turning right and left. You felt like in a museum, observing the 90s’ fashionable displays and stores. The eerie sight of clothes you had a habit of associating with your mother’s youth, and the lighthearted, distant, happy past years, the square thick screens and simpler times, were now a reality for you. You could reach and touch that sky-blue blouse on a slim mannequin, wearing posh plastic necklace, a picture from an aesthetic lookbook for inspiration. Aesthetic and nostalgia, that’s what the nineties were to you, but now they were here, brought right upon you, by magic, and they were very real. 

You slowed down in front of one of the windows of the Dayton Mall, a low, nice-looking white and green store, and looked at the leather jacket displayed.

The bag dropped on the ground as the understanding slowly creeped into your mind. Kai was standing few steps away from you, with his head cocked, watching you yet again. He seemed like a tour guide, a museum security guy who was more concerned about whether you enjoy this experience rather than keeping it all intact.

“I can do whatever I want”, you said slowly. 

“Absolutely everything. There’s nobody to stop me”.

“Don’t headbutt the glass”, Parker warned you, and there was this note in his voice that told you he’s talking from personal experience.

You took off your hoodie, the evening air a bit cool for only a tank top. You wrapped your hoodie around your hand and swung it, breaking the display.

The glass shattered loudly, pieces of it falling to your feet with ringing. Interesting, you thought, you get here, into this world of opportunity which poses as prison, and the first thing you do is vandalize.

The jacket wasn’t even that cool, so you didn’t aim for it. You looked down the street full of windows, and you could feel your blood boil. There was something inside of you, trying to get out, like the fuse that suddenly got lit. Everybody has it. Anybody would do it. You turned back to look at him - no need to mention his name, there is nobody else but this guy - and he grinned half-invisibly. It was a grin of indulgence, a hidden smile that lit his face when he did something bad: you recognized it from last week, when he said he’d kidnapped Elena on the first week after he got out of prison. It was the smirk that bloomed on his face as he spoke about how he gutted his own mother, and god save you, it was the same smile he had after you opened your eyes and still had a taste of his mouth in yours. 

You ran along the Germantown Street with the red pipe wrench you fished out of a car you found in the street. It was heavy in your hands as you swung it, crashing it into the glass, bothering the headless and armless mannequins, startled and falling down, creating the mess on their places. The glass was cutting your hands, flying in all directions, spitting sharp shrapnel like rain. With each broken window, your shoulder ached more and your head ached less, and you felt less like crying. Maybe there was a wake among that act of desctruction, but you missed it amongst the wild excitement of complete permissiveness. Parker walked after you, smiling quietly, as you raged around him, carrying the bag, and looked around. Finally, when you got tired, he sat on the asphalt next to you and looked at your hands.

“You’ve tapped one percent of what you can do here”. 

His sly hand took your palm, and your skin stung a little. It wasn’t as bad as that burn yesterday. You watched your own hands not believing pain could live longer than physical manifestation of it. Kai’s fingers wrapped around the cuts tightly, making you sigh sharply. He was so full of magic now, fresh prince of everything, that it radiated out of him. You could swear you felt it coming from his hand to yours. The cuts started sucking on themselves, and the ache stayed deep inside slender bones, phantom. 

“Another”.

“You shouldn’t waste your magic. Who knows how long we’re going to stay here”.

Kai gave you a meaningful look.

“Well, we decided we’d find a way, right? So, I’m doing it soon”.

“You know you’re lying. You’re only going to Oregon because I asked you”.

“See how nice I am?”

Your palm snaked out of his hand as soon as he healed you. 

“That’s what I don’t like about it”.

Parker eyed you down.

“You’re really hard to please, aren’t you?”

“I’m a bit grumpy cause I’m stuck here with you”.

“I have told you before, I never asked you to”.

You didn’t really have the energy to fight now. You wondered how you’re going to cope with his breakdowns in the future - and they’re bound to happen from time to time. Maybe become just like him, emotionally volatile. Seems easy enough. So far, everything here has been too easy, and you were waiting for the other shoe to drop. 

Darkness fell on Dayton, and there was intense white glow somewhere beyond a row of buildings in Madden Hill.

“There it goes. I think it’s a cool hotel. You should go to sleep, you have a long drive tomorrow”.

He got up and offered you a hand.

“It’s weird you’re not driving”, you noticed.

“I don’t like driving”.

You stood up without his help and he frowned again, like he was noticing every little thing crossing your mind. 

“How is that? I thought you liked being in control”.

“I am. I’m making you drive me everywhere”.

You sniffed.

“I do it because I like driving”.

“Then it’s a win-win, right?”

He patted you on the back and removed his hand as if afraid you’d bite. 

You walked on towards the glow, crossing lit and dark streets. Here the lightning is automatic, and here is not, Kai was commenting. He was commenting on everything which indicated he was in a good mood. 

“That’s the best ‘94 can do?” you inquired, looking at the tall rectangle building. 

“It’s a Hilton”, he noticed.

“It’s an ugly ass hotel”, you grumbled. Kai snickered and followed you inside.

“Are you hungry? I’m hungry”.

Parker knew his way around everything. He knew where the kitchen was, and, while you were coming up choosing a room, he went on raiding the huge space filled with food.

He was devilishly good with it, too. 

That evening, after you’ve eaten, you went strolling around the place and found out one more thing: you didn’t like being without him while you knew he was around. 

Empty space that was supposed to be filled with people creeped out your unprepared mind. The stairs sounded hollow, and you expected somebody to jump out of the long, empty corridors. In the windows of the hotel, there shone an empty city, lit for nobody. Shadows and silhouettes were floating around in the dark sky. You decided not to butcher every thing that came into your way and fought the desire to break the window to look outside. What will become of you if you use the foot and fist method for everything just because there’s no one to stop you? Kai wouldn’t mentor you. He’s more of a devil on the left shoulder than the voice of reason. He will definitely be willing to spoil you until you’re flexible material he can use.

You now had a great opportunity to reflect on all that, Parker included, and decide on your course of action, separate yourself from your cell mate. But instead of staying away to think you found yourself drawn to the place where he was, because the empty ugly Hilton was scary. 

You returned into the room and found him, sitting on the floor of the big top floor suite, with the little bedside light next to him, crouched over something. Walking closer, you found it was the charger from your phone, and something remotely resembling a part of a boombox. One of the loud speakers from it was torn out, and laid at his hand, and you couldn’t understand a single thing he was doing.

“What is it?”

“I’m making you a portable speaker, like one of those bluetooth things kids have”, he said shortly. 

You looked down on him, a little surprised, because he’s never acknowledged his own age or the era he’s lived in before. Preoccupied, he looked very smart, and completely normal. He even rolled up the sleeves of his hoodie.

“How?”

“See this thing? It’s from that player”, he motioned his hand towards a player lying afar on the floor. Looked like he’d kicked it away with force.

“I’ll adjust the wire so that it can see your iPhone, and voila”.

“But I need the charger”.

“It’s gonna work”, he nodded.

“Are you sure? Kai, I can’t lose my phone!”

He sighed, and looked up at you.

“Did I mentioned I studied at MIT?”

“No. You know there’s been a shooting?”

You didn’t know why you mentioned it immediately.

“Wasn’t me”.

“Clever motherfucker”.

Kai shifted as if you touched him. He looked at you as you walked away. Coming close to the bed, you felt you were almost collapsing with exhaustion even though you didn’t do much.

Just before you fell asleep, you looked at the time on an electronic clock next to bed. It was almost midnight.

You woke up as if someone hit you. The silence was pressing on your ears, pressing your head, and moreover you didn’t know where you were. Without opening your eyes, you tried to remember the place and what happened. The darkness was blue and black, and it was so warm you tried to pull the covers off of yourself, and failed.

Kai moaned, displeased, right behind your ear, and you realized his arm was wrapped around you, and that’s why you felt like you were lying in a cacoon. 

You rolled halfway, not without a struggle, and saw his face very close.

“Kai, what about personal space?”

His body was so close you could feel the heat coming off of him. Of course, he’s one of those boys who turn into stoves when they sleep. Somehow his body just did that, so that you didn’t really know what he was unhappy about. You were scared of how well your shape adjusted to his, and you were lying comfortably in such a position that you usually get when you wake up in the morning. Even if bed seemed uncomfortable last night, in the morning you don’t want to move an inch, and the pillow seems perfectly soft. 

Still, you could feel his invasive mass, almost pushing you off that king sized bed, cornering you to the edge, like he was trying to scope you and win over the bed at the same time. You felt for his hand against your ribs and found he formed a fist, clutching the fabric of your shirt, like you were about to roll away.

“What personal space?” he murmured. 

Fair enough. In this world, that was all yours and nobody else’s, this crowdless, lifeless planet, thounsands and thousands of miles of nobody’s land, in this spacious cursed desert, there was not space enough for the two of you to move separately. You had felt it while wandering around the hotel, when you decided to run back to where he was just to see another human next to you, to make sure you’re not alone. This prison was as claustrophobia igniting as it was hollow. There was no personal space here.

[liw-the-melancholic-apple]

The First One - Bonus scenes in traditional written word

This is a smau and a zukoXreader, although i haven't decided how this ends yet.

Y/n has recently transferred to Ba Sing Se from Omashu university and meets the gaang through a schoolproject they do with sokka and suki.

Masterlist

Bonus 4: Good Morning

The sound of a machine of some sorts woke you up. A look out the window confirmed two things: It was still rather early and Haru’s parents’ neighbours had no idea what an appropriate time for high-pressure-cleaning patios was. Sighing you sat up and looked around. You found your shoes and thought you remembered where the bathroom was.

The short night definitely left its traces on you: Your clothes and hair looked deschevelled, you didn’t smell as fresh as you would like, you had dark circles under your eyes and your voice was rather hoarse. You did what you could without rummaging through the drawers of the bathroom, then you wandered through the house.

There were fotos everywhere. Most of them were of Haru, who you guessed didn’t have any siblings, but some had a very kind-looking couple on them. A wedding picture in which they both laughed at something happening out of frame. It seemed genuine, a true candid shot. He had his hand around her waist and her hand was in mid-air, presumably on its way to fix his tie for the actual wedding picture, but something must have had happened. They both were bending over laughing pointing out of frame looking at each other.

You studied the picture. I made you like the couple. It made you believe in their love and their relationship. It made you want to get to know them. Be a part of that happiness and trust and joy. There was no question why they chose to display this picture. It was amazing!

You watched the couple become parents, buy a house, get older and go through the decades that saw Haru grow from a baby into a smiley toddler, distracted child, unimpressed teenager and openhearted twenty-something. They seemed a happy family. Truly.

The journey through Haru’s life had left you at the front door and wanting some coffee. You found the kitchen empty but quickly discovered a coffee machine. While it was entirely too sophisticated for the broke student you were, you did manage to get it to spew out some dark and caffeinated goodness into a cup you found in the second cupboard you opened. With it you kept on strolling through the house until the living room introduced you to the French doors that lead into the garden. And boy, the garden!

You sat in that little paradise when your phone buzzed and Zuko begged you to talk to him. Apparently, he was at his uncle’s shop working the early shift and there was not a lot to do as it was Sunday. You texted back and forth for a good while.

Yesterday you hadn’t talked to him a lot, outside of him apologising for his uncle and the Sokka-rum-discussion. You know learned that he was a good nephew and studied International Business and International Relations. When you called him out as ambitious, though, he was quick to bring up the words pressure and expectations. You didn’t know him. And whatever those expectations and that pressure were about it seemed you weren’t competent to comment on it or them. Zuko struck you as a private person. You contemplated telling him exactly that. You didn’t. You conveyed the message, though. He seemed relieved. And he liked politics and diplomacy which told you a number of things: 

Be wary of any promises he makes. He might be doing that politician thing where he doesn’t keep them

If you ever want to ruin somebody’s life or career, ask him how to do it, he will have learned about it and remembered

If you ever don’t know how to handle a conflict ask him, he’s into figuring out compromises and status-quo-situation

He probably gives good advice. The kind that will be good for you and not too offensive to others

He is smart

He is into reading

He can find the good in the bad.

After all it sounded like his parents made him study those subjects and if he had had a true choice he would have gone for something else. Yet, he found aspects that he enjoyed, that he could use in his life and that he could be passionate about.

He liked travelling

All in all he was intriguing. A lot of layers to peel back. Whether it be the interest in politics – which were a lot of smoothtalking, manipulation, using popular opinions AND ideologies, the fate and future of countries and people and so many struggles or the family history. You could probably have real conversations with him. And you decided you would like to as well.

Another thing you learned about Zuko was that he was Sokka’s secret source for his part of the Worldhistory project. In the past couple weeks Sokka had gone on and on about how much information he had gotten form an anonymous sponsor.

“Sokka made it sound like you were the discovery of a century!”

“Am I not?” No, for all you knew he wasn’t.

Yes, he was intriguing and most likely multi-layered; yes he was tall and dark and handsome and that scar on his face added several facets to that handsomeness; yes, he had that tea-loving angel of an uncle, but he was no discovery of a century. He was some good-looking guy with an interesting background.

“To be determined” Better not alienate him by telling him he wasn’t all that special. You still wanted to be his friend.

Could you have gone on for two more hours talking to Zuko? Yes. Yes. You could have. But you didn’t because there were footsteps in the house. And it sounded like they were coming from the kitchen. You got up to investigate. Hoping you’d find Sokka, Suki, Toph, Aang or Katara in the kitchen, you would have been okay with Haru, but instead you found an agile white haired gentleman. From the fotos you recognised him as Haru’s father. He was doing something to the sophisticated coffeemachine and congratulated himself. Then he turned around, saw you, got scared and nearly let his cup fall and crash on the kitchen tiles. Instead he just made a weird move with his arm that resulted in a wave of hot liquid jumping into the air and splashing on the floor.

“Ouch!”, the man screamed. “Who the hell are you?”

“Sorry, Sir. Y/n. I’m friends with… I know your son. Haru. We helped him pack up the party yesterday and he told us we could stay here. I assumed you knew…Excuse the intrusion, please.”

“Tyro”, he extended his hand. You shook it.

“You’re not intruding. Haru told us that some of his friends might stay over. I just didn’t expect anybody to be awake yet. And we don’t know each other.”

“Again, sir, sorry.”

“That cup empty?” Tyro pointed at the mug you had brought with you.

“Nearly. I took the liberty of drinking your coffee.”

“Do you want more? I can offer you black coffee and black coffee with milk from the fridge. The thing is supposed to be able to come up with all kinds of fancy drinks, but that’s more my wife’s department. I didn’t bother learning about that.”

“Black coffee would make me really happy, Sir.”

Tyro filled your cup and gestured for you to follow him back into the garden. So, you did. He asked about who you were and how you knew his son.

“To be honest, Sir, there isn’t a lot to tell. I moved to the city for this semester. Transferred from Omashu University. I’m studying anthropology. One of the classes I take together with Sokka and Suki, who are friends with Zuko who used to be Haru’s roommate. Aaaaaaand they brought me to the party yesterday. There I met Haru. The end.”

“You helped him tidy up the speakers and all that jazz after having only met him that night?” You nodded your head yes.

“Commendable.”

You carried on talking to Haru’s dad, brushing on the subjects of family, education and music. The band Haru played in was called “Grounded”. According to Tyro they were “just having fun” but they also “sounded like actual musicians”. This band needed to be inspected.

You told him about Gray Sky and Tiff on the Rocks, the pub you used to play. It turned out that Haru inherited his passion for music from his father. Dad all but interrogated you on you average guitar playing and experience with piano lessons, when his wife walked through the French doors.

She introduced herself to you and asked if you wanted more coffee. As she was the coffee-maker-whisperer, you now were offered the entire range of coffee-drinks and gladly accepted a Cappuccino the size of your head. After she mad you happy with that, she sent you back out, with the intention of preparing breakfast. You offered to help but were quickly shut down.

The moment you sat down in the lounge chair by big tree, Haru entered the kitchen, got a cup of coffee from his mum and was surprised to find you in musical discussion with his father. Thankfully, he did remember you and was delighted to hear that you were a fellow guitarist, even though he was likely a lot more skilled than you were. In fact, you said this multiple times, resulting in Haru running inside and grabbing one of his dad’s guitars.

You  started by playing some of the 90's hits that Sokka had massacred the night before, proving that Haru was better than you. You handed the instrument back to him. 

"How about You Oughta Know?", he suggested. You looked at him, blinking. 

"You said you used to sing in Omashu. Let's hear it."

"Uhm…", you hesitated.

"I'm with stupid", Tyro chuckled. "I'm curious."

"Fine."  You let Haru play a few tacts before you started the verse. He harmonised with you in the chorus, during which Tyro got another guitar.

From Alanis you moved to the Verve; from "Nothing compares 2 u", to "Loser". Haru and his dad loved the 90's. Nirvana, Take That, TLC, Blur, Oasis, Britney, Beasty Boys, you named it they had it. Aang, Katara, Suki, Sokka and Toph joined you three out on the patio, all carrying cups of various coffees and plates full of food. While harmonising to Tyro's lead you remembered that his wife had talked about preparing breakfast. From what you saw on your friend's - yeah friends! - plates, she had not held back. There were eggs and bacon, pancakes, bread, cinnaminrolls and meats, cheeses, jams, butter and honey.

When she herself came out to join the table, she carried a  bowl of yoghurt and nuts, that she assured everyone was an option for everyone. Tyro got his own plate and dat down next to Sokka. He motioned for Haru and you to come eat but you two were determined to finish the decade. So, you did. And then you entered the 2000s. Every now and again you'd pick up the second guitar, while alternating with Haru singing lead and harmonising. You had the time of your life!

Haru's mum topped off your coffees and although your stomach was screaming at you to give it some of the wonderful smelling food, you played and sang for more than two hours. The others enjoyed your efforts and sang along when they were done eating. Tyro relieved his son of guitar duties and jammed with you while Haru diminished the pancakes. 

He then took your spot and you praised the eggs, bacon and cinnamonrolls.

"If you're ever desperate  for something to do, you're welcome to my appartment and put on breakfast!",  you said, all but crying, after noon when you had finished. Haru's mum blushed. But die didn't say no.

After you had finished your breakfast, everyone helped clear the table and load the dishwasher. Tyro insisted you all had another round of coffee, during which there was more music and Sokka got the recipe for the hangover cure smoothie that Mrs Haru  had made him as soon as he entered the kitchen.

You left around 2:30 with many "thank yous" and "you're the bests" and "we can help some mores". Although you hadn't slept much you decided to hit up the Jasmin Dragon to see if Zuko had  died from boredom already. 

[seriouslyhooked]

When We Collide (Part 3)

Emma Swan has always known one thing: trust no one but yourself. Unfortunately she forgot her one rule and now she’s paying for it. One bad decision led her to the monstrous ‘Crocodile’ a mobster in New York who goes by the name Gold. Hope seems lost until she meets another person in this underworld, Killian Jones. Despite the place they find each other, a true love blossoms, and they manage to get away. But what will happen when Emma discovers who Killian really is? Will love prevail? Um, yeah, I’m writing this, so duh – it’s all love all the time. Fic features motorcycles, hot guys in leather cuts, and a bit of action/drama. Will end happily, and despite the first chapter, will be light on angst. Part 1, Part 2. Available on FanFiction Here and AO3 Here.

A/N: Hey everyone! So we are back again for another installment of this new fic, and I have to admit it’s been so fun to write this. It’s a strange new tone for me, but I’m trying to marry my love for fluff, and the intrigue/peril of this story that my muse dreamed up. There’s much more to come, but I am also trying to keep chapters shorter this go around. I definitely will end up with more than the 12 I was planning originally, but just in terms of pacing, it’s a changeup to have the shorter chapters that I use to have. Anyway, regardless of length, I hope you will enjoy this installment, which shows Emma and Killian post-Gold while also providing a flashback too. Can’t wait to see what you all think, and thank you so much for reading!

Five days into their drive towards destiny, and Emma was really starting to wonder – how far away was home exactly?

Okay to be fair, she knew where they were headed – a tiny town not far from Big Sur, clear across the country from Gold and his crew. Killian had told her as much weeks ago, but only when he was certain they wouldn’t be overheard. She loved the idea of California, never having been there herself, but she didn’t really account for how long it would take to travel that many miles. They rode and rode every day, but they could be traveling further if Killian would let them. She tried to tell him as much, but he disagreed. Responding every time with thoughtful things that made her heart melt a little more:

“I won’t risk you hurting, love. Not when you are everything, my heart and my soul.”

“You may not realize it yet, but the road can be unforgiving. Best to take it easy, especially when the cargo is as precious as you.”

“Please, Swan, let me have this. Let me take care of you. Trust in me, Emma – I promise, I won’t ever let you down.”

At every stage of this journey Killian had put her comfort first, which was wild since they were really on the run. Still Killian treated this like it was a trip to be remembered, instead of one to be rushed through. Emma was amazed at the places they’d been staying, and how each one was out of the way while still being beautiful and well-kept. They never stayed anywhere too populated, always choosing local hideaways over hustle and bustle or household names, but every place had its own organic beauty and charm. They explored these little safe havens, talking and loving and living together, and every stop along the journey, Emma felt the weight of her fear ease away. The further they got from New York the freer she felt that she was. And the thought of her freedom was so perfect, especially if she could spend that freedom with a man she loved as fiercely as Killian.

“What’s put that smile on your face, love?”

Killian’s words washed over her at the same time his arms wrapped around her, hugging her from behind. She closed her eyes and let out a happy sigh, loving the fresh air and the hum of the natural world around them on the balcony at this little bed and breakfast they’d happened upon. They had ‘the best room’ in the house, which was to say a stand-alone cottage at the back of the inn, and it felt private and peaceful and perfect.

“Just this guy,” she teased, loving the growl that Killian released. Leave it to her man to get jealous over nothing. There were no men in her life like him, certainly none that mattered, and he knew that. Still it was fun when he got all worked up, and the vibrations of the grumble he’d let out mixed with his roaming hands made her body tense in the most pleasurable way.

“Ah, anyone I know?” Killian joked, nuzzling into her neck and laying a kiss on her skin that made her shiver. Unable to resist, she spun around in his arms and melted into him, her hands resting on his chest.

“Hmm, it’s hard to say. You see not a lot of people know him – the real him. He’s mysterious that way.”

“And you?” Killian asked, his voice taut with sincerity as he dropped the charade. “Do you feel you know me?”

Looking into his eyes, Emma saw how important this question was to him. After years of hiding himself in darkness, working with Gold and other evil, vile people, Killian was wary of himself and his worth. She saw the doubts that he carried, the worry in his heart, but she knew this man completely. Honestly, she’d known there was more to him from the start. Something honest and real. But if she’d still needed convincing that he was good and true and kind underneath it all, he’d handed it to her in one perfect, thoughtful moment that sealed the deal and stole her heart…

And there it is:  I, Emma Swan, am officially homeless. Again.

The weight of that knowledge cut Emma to her core. For years she had worked day in and day out to claw herself into something resembling stability. After years in her foster homes, and more on the street and living in her car, it meant everything to her to have a place, a real place, to call her own. In fact, it meant so much to her that she’d paid up front to her landlord. She didn’t want to risk him looking for new tenants, so she always paid promptly and in full. This time she’d actually taken it further, giving three whole months rent, just before this all went down. Her landlord was grateful, but still clear with her – just because she paid up front, didn’t mean he’d accept late payments. And now she was late. A full month behind, and just entering the window for eviction. When the clock struck midnight, she’d passed the final day. Her home would now be vacated, cleared out, and everything she owned would be tossed, sold, or stolen.

The reason she knew how this would all go was because she’d seen it many times. Her building was filled with people who for, whatever reason, could not pay the bills. As such, a number of them had been evited, and always with the same cold, calculated precision. The landlord didn’t even show himself. He hired workers to clear it all and used the cops to intimidate people into leaving. It was awful, but it was life. And now it was her life. Damn it, why the hell was this her life?

“Yo, blondie, you gonna get us our beers, or you gonna keep staring at the clock some more?”

The rude call from one of the patrons snapped Emma back into the moment, and she fought tooth and nail to force the tears in her eyes from falling. She had yet to let these men see her pain, and she would die before she ever did. As badly as this hurt, as agonizing as this was, she couldn’t let it show. She had to keep moving, keep going, and just remember that the most important thing was to survive.

The next few hours were all a blur of rowdy miscreants and a lot of ballsy drunks. The worst part, though, was that Killian wouldn’t be by. He mentioned to her the last time he was in that he was going on a run. He’d be out of town for some time, and wasn’t supposed to be back until the end of the week. She’d only known him for a little while now, but it was a disappointment when he didn’t stop in. Seeing him made all the difference in her day. He kept the savages at bay, and though they both did their best to be discrete, she felt his presence, sensed his eyes on her any time they could be, and savored every moment when he came close, asking for a drink or paying his tab at the end of the night.

Thinking of those good moments ultimately got her through the rest of her shift, and through some kind of small mercy, Sydney let her out a half an hour earlier than he normally would. She was excused from after-hours clean up, and for once she took the out, rushing upstairs, hoping to get away from everyone and everything. She reached for her keys, as she came down the hall, but her door was open as she got closer and immediately her guard went up. No way in hell she’d left this door open. She was always meticulous about keeping it shut. Then there were footsteps inside and she looked in to see the one man she’d been missing most of all.

“Killian?” she asked, shocked at seeing him as she raced inside. How was he back so soon? And what was he carrying in that cardboard box? Wait, was that…?

“Emma, love, you’re early,” he said, looking totally caught off guard at her entrance. “You’re shift’s never over at this time. You’ve usually got -,”

“That’s my stuff,” She said interrupting him.

“Aye,” he said, looking defeated. “Well it’s what I could salvage any way.  As soon as I heard, I tried to get back sooner, Emma, I swear I did. But by the time I made it, so much was already gone. This was all I could save.”

Emma reached to the item on the top of the box, the one thing she actually cared about – her blanket, emblazoned with her name, and still bearing the same scent of honeysuckle and an ocean breeze that it always seemed to have. It was like magic, that smell, imprinted on the woven bands that made this knitted shrug as long as she could remember. No matter where it was or what it had seen, the smell always remained, comforting her, and making her believe that it must have been crafted with love. It was a sign to her that there had been people who loved her, for however brief a time, and this was their one precious gift to her.

“I’m so sorry, Emma. If I had known this was happening… I tried to reason with your landlord, to pay off what’s due just to buy you more time but -,”

Dropping the blanket back into the box, gently, Emma pulled the cardboard compartment from his hands and tossed it onto the couch beside them. Then she stepped into Killian’s arms, cupping his face, and kissing him surely. There was no other way for her to make him see how much this meant to her. No words could be uttered, no thanks could be shared. All it took was a single second for him to be there with her, holding her close, wrapping her up in a warm embrace that made her feel whole when for so long she was broken. It was transcendent, so much more than just a kiss, and when they finally broke apart to breathe, Emma looked at him and saw the heat and the care and the goodness in his eyes. She knew then that she trusted him. That he was honorable and true, despite the line of work he was in, and that she was scarily close to falling for him, in a total and irrevocable way.

“I can’t believe you did this. No one’s ever cared, I mean, no one even thought…” Emma felt tears threatening again, and she closed her eyes. Unbidden, they fell, and then she felt Killian’s thumb swipe them away as he came to hold her. She opened her eyes again, and smiled through the little bit of crying. “Thank you, Killian. Thank you so much.”

“You deserve the whole world, Emma,” he said, staring at her so intently, a battle going on in his mind that she couldn’t quite read. “Fuck me, just one more taste.”

He growled out the words and pressed his lips to hers again, this time taking things even further than before. This was a kiss of hunger, of passion, of wanting. It was a spark that flared brightly, a flame catching into a burning fiery force, and she loved it. She needed this, needed him, and didn’t realize how dulled and cut off she’d been. To get through this she’d been numbing herself, surviving but not living, but in his arms and with this kiss, she felt so alive. More so than she ever had in her life.

Too soon the kiss was over, and this time, when they broke away, Killian straightened, putting a bit of distance that she hated between them. “Much as I might like to take this further, Swan, I can’t. You’re vulnerable still. Reeling from the day, and if we continue…”

“When we continue,” she said boldly, causing him to shake his head even as that wicked, sexy wanting sparked back to life in his blue eyes.

“If we continue, I won’t ever stop. One taste could never be enough, and two will damn near kill me. If I taste you a third time, you’ll be mine.”

“Yours?” she asked, her heart thudding in her chest even as the voice in her head pleaded with her to make that jump.

“Aye, mine. Right now, my world is ugly, Emma. Far too ugly a place for a woman like you. I need to make it better. Need to find some light before I let you in. But I’m only so strong. The next time you kiss me, there will be no turning back. You’ll seal our fates. Do you understand?”

“Yes,” Emma whispered.

“Good,” he replied, grabbing his leather jacket, his hands curling into fists as he put it on and made for the door. Then he looked at her, a million things left unsaid between them for a beat until he finally nodded at the door. “Lock up behind me.”

She nodded, and was going to ask him to wait, but she was too slow. He raced out of the apartment, like he was scared to make good on his word, and Emma was left stunned. Her lips still tingling from the feel of him, and her whole body buzzing in kind. She made her way to the door, following his order to bolt everything in place and then she leaned against the wood, pressing her back against the cool paint finish. Her hand came up to cover her mouth, and she looked around the room, her eyes catching on the box once more. Then she smiled and closed her eyes, knowing that the next chance she got she was kissing that man. Consequences be damned – she was going to be his, and she sure as hell hoped he’d be hers in return...

“I don’t feel that I know you, I know that I do,” Emma said honestly, coming back from the memory and into this moment with Killian once more.  At her words, he let out a sigh of relief and she ran her hand along his jaw. He leaned into the motion, clearly loving the feel of her soft skin against his rough beard, and she wanted to give him that comfort and certainty. “We may not know every little detail about each other yet, but that doesn’t change the way I feel. There are ghosts in our past, and dreams of the future that we maybe haven’t shared, but I know you, Killian. I know you and I love you.”

“Gods I’ll never get enough of that,” Killian said holding her close, before making a heartfelt confession of his own. “And there will never be another woman I love so much as you, Emma. You were it for me the moment I saw you. You’ll be it for me until my final breath.”

“Only until then?” she teased, trying to lighten the mood and laughing when he growled again and pulled her so close they were centimeters away from a kiss.

“You know what happens when you tease me, love.”

“Mhmm,” she said, breathlessly confirming that she did as she licked her lips. She waited agonizing moments for him to kiss her but then he surprised the shit out of her throwing her up over his shoulder and heading downstairs and out towards the lake. She shook with laughter, confused as to what he was doing until they reached the sand and he put her down.

“Loose the dress, Swan. I make no promises on your salvaging it if you leave it to me.” She shivered at the command in his voice. Damn he was hot. Especially when he went all alpha like this. Luckily, they’d been dressed for a possible swim, so she had a newly purchased swimsuit underneath.

Holding his eyes as much as she could, Emma delighted in how focused Killian was on her. But then he returned the favor, losing his shirt and she was lost. She always got dizzy seeing him like this, and that feeling lingered through their swim and as they sprawled out on the dock some time later. Letting the heat of the fading summer sun dry them off, Emma hummed out a sound of contentment. Okay, honestly, this right here was the life. But as that thought went through her mind she shot up, looking all around them suddenly frantic.

“Emma what is it?” he asked, genuine concern lacing his voice.

“We can’t be like this, can we? I mean we’re on the run,” she whispered. “Gold could find us. He could -,”

Killian silenced her with a kiss, thoroughly distracting her before explaining his seemingly lax behavior. “Gold has been successfully brought into custody and is none the wiser of my involvement in his demise. His lieutenants have also all been charged, and the henchmen have gone to ground. The syndicate is bleeding, Emma. There’s no one around to ask questions, and you and I are not the only ones in Gold’s service who’ve made a run for it.”

“How do you know?” Emma asked.

“I have my ways,” he grinned, and she rolled her eyes but smiled all the same. “And don’t think for a second that I’ve made any compromises on your safety. We’re relaxing as we are because I have complete and total confidence in the safety of our stops.”

“What did you do, set up some trip wires or something?”

“Didn’t have to – the whole place has surveillance capabilities set up already.”

“It does?” Emma asked, shocked and Killian laughed.

“Aye, love. Tiana’s special forces.”

“You’re kidding,” Emma said, looking at him for signs of jest. “Wait, seriously?”

“Seriously. Her mother runs the inn when she’s deployed, but this place is a haven of sorts. Most of the places we’ll land over the next week will be.”

“Wait, so you’re telling me there’s like a secret, high tech, military bed and breakfast system scattered across the country?” Killian laughed heartily at that and shook his head.

“Not quite. As you’ll recall, not every place we’ve stayed has been like this. There are simply many, many favors I had to cash in from my days with the SEALs. This is one of them.”

“You’re incredible, you know that?” Emma asked and Killian’s look softened as he held her close.

“I’d be anything for you, Emma.”

“All you have to do is be yourself,” she promised, kissing him sweetly but pulling back just as the kiss was set to begin. He groaned at her absence, and watched with warry eyes as she stood up, moving away from him. With motions so fast and controlled she marveled at them he got up too, never letting too much space between them.

“Change your mind, on something, love?”

“Hardly,” Emma said grabbing her dress and toying with it, but not putting it back on. “I was just thinking…” she said, letting her gaze run down his body as she licked her lips. God he was gorgeous, and time was doing nothing to dull the effect he had on her.

“What were you thinking?” he ground out, moving forward again, but she put her hand up.

“Trust me, honey,” she said, knowing how much the little pet name riled him up.  “Nothing I’m thinking is fit for this place. Way too public. For what I want, we need a bit more privacy.”

“As you wish,” he promised, once again sweeping her into his arms and making her melt against him. And as he carried her away, no doubt towards a night of steamy passion in his arms, Emma felt what it was to be truly happy. For though the road was still uncertain, and their future might not be totally clear, she had faith it would all work out, as long as they had each other and many more moments like this one.

Post-Note: Okay so some of you are no doubt cursing me for not writing out the smut. I know exactly who you are, and let me just say, I have no intention of defending myself. I was mean like this on purpose, but trust me, I’ll make up for it in this fic many times over. In the meantime, I hope that you guys enjoyed this little glimpse into the present and the past. I want to include some memories from their shared from the dark days as much as I can, and from their lives before Gold too, and the only way I know how to interact with that kind of angst, is to wrap it up in present day fluff. Anyway, hope that you all enjoyed, and I appreciate your cheering me on and letting me know what you think. See you all next time!

[nclkafilms]

The power of stillness

(Review of ‘Sound of Metal’)

*Warning: contains minor spoilers*

“The world does keep moving, and it can be a damn cruel place.  But for me, those moments of stillness, that place, that's the kingdom of God.”

- Joe (Paul Raci)

What is an addiction? That is in many ways one of the central questions asked by ‘Sound of Metal’, the six time Academy Award nominated feature film debut by Darius Marder. On the surface the film seems like a tale as old as time with a protagonist who all of a sudden loses the ability to do what defines him. This storyline is the recipe for a classic tale: the athlete who suffers a career-ending injury, the surgeon who loses his fine motor skills or in the case of ‘Sound of Metal’, a heavy-metal drummer who loses his hearing. But what makes ‘Sound of Metal’ reach above the bar of this recipe - apart from a stunning technical side - is the fact that it is not as much about losing an ability as it is about facing an addiction. It is in this personal discovery for our main character, Ruben, that the film proves itself deserving of its six Oscar nominations.

As described, we follow Ruben, who is the drummer of a heavy metal band in which his girlfriend through four years, Lou, is the lead singer. However, during a tour, he is suddenly faced with a deteriorating ability to hear. Initially showing itself as a tinitus-like sound, which quickly develops into a deep, humming “lack of sound” making it impossible for Ruben to not only play his drums but simply to keep a conversation. As he is presented with the cold facts that the hearing already lost will never return, he is spiralled towards a tumultuous past of drug addiction. As Lou becomes worried for him she helps set up a meeting - through Ruben’s sponsor - with Joe, who leads a support group for addicts with hearing loss as part of a much larger deaf community. Ruben’s stay with the group is equally conflicting and eye-opening as he is forced apart from Lou, faced with the consequences of his hearing loss and presented with new opportunities under the firm but endearing leadership of Joe. 

As Ruben, Riz Ahmed delivers a career-best turn moving himself further up the Hollywood food chain. It is an extremely nuanced and touching performance. One moment he burns through the screen with a powerful and/or frustrated presence only to almost hide himself in the next sequence as he gives space to Ruben’s vulnerability and inability to fully accept his new reality. Ahmed embodies all these feelings close to perfection and it is topped off by an authenticity in his performance and chemistry with the film’s many deaf actors that underlines his dedication to Ruben’s character arc. Ahmed spent a lot of time in the lead-in to the production within the deaf community and it pays off as Ruben’s growing acceptance of and inclusion in said community feels immensely real.

At the centre of the film’s heartfelt portrayal of the deaf community stands Paul Raci, however. He creates one of the most endearing characters of the year as Joe, a Vietnam War veteran  (where he lost his hearing) and former alcoholic, who now hosts the support group for hearing impaired former addicts. Raci brings the role a natural authenticity as he himself is no stranger to the American deaf community as the child of two deaf parents. He clearly uses this to create a fully fleshed character, who you come to both care for and respect. Because, make no mistake, as heart-warming as many of Joe’s scenes are, he is also at the centre of one of the film’s most heart-breaking scenes towards the end, in which he gives a profound and touching message to a desperate Ruben. Raci plays this scene with such heart and presence that Joe’s emotional reaction towards the end of it feels as if it was Raci’s own reaction to the scene. A stunning performance that would and should have earned Raci many more awards had it not been for a certain Daniel Kaluuya.

As Lou, Olivia Cooke is somewhat sidelined half way through the story, and knowing that the Marder brothers did write her story in full detail, I would have loved to see more of it and discover how she dealt with her own addiction(s). Admittedly, I guess that would have been at the cost of the film’s quite tight focus, but the main reason I wanted to see more of her story, is that Cooke manages to create a fascinating character with the limited screen presence she gets. Her scenes with Ahmed as their characters try to realise the extent of Ruben’s hearing loss both individually and as a couple are simply heartbreaking. Most of the film’s remaining supporting cast were found in the deaf community and it - once again - helps heightening the film’s anchor in reality. To highlight a few, Lauren Ridloff brings charm to a teacher in the deaf community school, Chelsea Lee brings life and heart to one of Ruben’s new-found friends and Jeremy Stone, who also worked as Ahmed’s personal ASL teacher and Marder’s creative assistent on the film, features in a specifically memorable scene as an - surprise - ASL teacher. 

This desire to include the deaf community as not only a focus point of the film, but as an active part of the production is a clever and brilliant move by director, Darius Marder. Not unlike the nomads in Nomadland, it creates a certain sense of some of it being close to documentary, although ‘Sound of Metal’ is much clearer in being a work of fiction. It is obvious that the story is deeply personal to the Marder brothers who co-wrote the script on from an original story by Derek Cianfrance (‘Blue Valentine’, ‘Place Beyond the Pines’) with the film being dedicated to their grandmother who went deaf herself. One of many personal touches is the choice to open caption the film, which - of course - can be seen as a statement to make more films accessible for the deaf community, but it also heightens the film’s creative vision to put the viewer in the shoes - or rather ears - of Ruben.

The main reason why this works, however, is the film’s absolute strongest asset: the daring creative choice to create a (with Marder’s own words) Point of Hearing (PoH) experience. Years of work has been put into the film’s work with its sound and how it connects with its imagery. In many situations the way they try to portray the sensation of deafness could have felt gimmicky and, thus, fallen flat. It doesn’t, however. From the first scene in which we experience Ruben’s auditory sensations, I bought it all the way and it truly heightened the film experience. An experience I would love to have in a cinema. It works thanks to the immaculate work by the Marder brothers in their script, the intimate cinematography by Daniël Bouquet and most of all the collaboration between Danish editor Mikkel E.G. Nielsen and the sound department under the leadership of supervising sound editor Nicolas Becker. The way they first create some of the best concert footage of recent years (featuring only live performances by Ahmed and Cooke) and then one of the best realised depictions of a sensation so many of us never have had or will have is awe-inspiring.  

Ultimately, ‘Sound of Metal’ is just as much a film about facing your past and your ideas for the future as it is about a deaf drummer learning to live his new life. As such it features some the same thematic questions as other films of the year (‘Soul’ and ‘Another Round’ to name just two): what drives and what should drive your life. What is purpose, what is a meaningful life? As the quote in the beginning of this review hints at, life has a cruel tendency to roll on no matter where you are in your life. For Ruben, his journey reveals that while distancing himself from his drug addiction he might just have moved on to a new addiction: an addiction to sound and the world that sound opened up for him. The world of Lou, the world of love, the world of purpose. In a telling scene after Ruben has made a life-changing decision, a clearly hurt Joe calmly says to Ruben that he sounds like an addict. And he does. Ahmed delivers this scene with such necessity, such desperation and inconstancy that we feel his addiction to sound, to hearing. The following and final 30 minutes of the film end up being both hurtful and hauntingly beautiful as Ruben comes to terms with his addiction in a realistic and satisfying way. The final scene is up there with the best of the year; you can literally hear it and feel. The power of stillness. 

4,5/5

[crypticalwitch]

Dr. Hide, The Mechanisms, and a New friend.

The story of Dr. Marie Hide, Her small crew, and how they all met. The Story of my Mechsona crew.

Warnings-death, Poison, ask to tag.

Dr. Marie Hide was raised on stories of the Mechanisms. She would sit and listen to her great grandmother telling tales of a Man of copper singing tales of the past, tales of a man with a heart of metal being passed a baby and panicking, of Women with Wings or Minds of metal. 

She fell in love with the tales from the stars,and no matter how many times she was told to stay planetside for her own safely, she would look to the stars, the old warped disks her Great Grandma left her playing. The singers voice haunting as they told their one man audience the tales of Gunpowder Tim and Ashes O’Reilly. 

So, it wasn't much a surprise to herself or her family when she became an Engineer, and a Doctor, and a Pilot. and She headed off to the stars, gathering her own tales to be told. 

And then she found it. A very old file, something that took months upon months to update and break through all the passwords and safeguards to get at whatever was hiding in the file. and boy was it something.

A very old file, full of things written and made by the Mechanisms, Not the ones who her Great Grandma told her about, the ones whose voices filled Dr. Hide’s speakers when she was alone in the engine room, but the real ones. The immortals from all over the stars who played deadly pranks and who held a mini war over something called an Octo Kitten. Whatever the hell that was. All written by Dr. Carmilla and Raphaella La Cognizi.

But the most exciting thing, was the blueprints and instructions for Mechanization, Immortality developed by the Doctor.

It wasn't a hard decision for Her to make. She already couldn't walk, what was the worst thing that could happen. But first, she would need someone to do the procedure, since she really didn't want to be conceness for her legs to be cut off and guts scooped out.

So she built Jekyll. It was programed with hundreds of medical procedures, as well as what they’d need to do the whole mechanization process, if lacking in preprogrammed personality. 

So waking up with the ability to walk was interesting, and the first thing she got to do with her new skill was clumsy run and steal a ship with her unemoting companion.

The pair wandered, gathering more stories of their own, both ones they were involved in, and not always in their little junker ship, nicknamed “Borealis”.

Borealis tended to break down, stutter and never quiet be as safe as it should, but for a new immortal and her Robot companion, whose personality was only just starting to develop. It was home, if barely big enough.

When they landed on Pistil, Dr. Hide had only planned to make a fuel stop, until she heard from one of the local merchants that a warlord was making quick work of the planet, maybe she had extended her stay for a few....years, much to jekyll’s chagrin.

and She really wasn't expecting to find someone with her legs injured beyond belief. She was face down in the dirt, long grey-blue hair splayed out in long loose curls, her legs down to bone and blood.  

so Hide brought her back to the makeshift lab. Patching up the mysterious woman was easy enough, however, waiting for her to return to the waking world was a nightmare.

When she did, she cried, scared and alone. Now, the good Doctor is not really savvy with emotions, so having a panicking, sobbing, stranger on her table, was not her ideal situation. To make everything so much better, Jekyll had just walked in, and stood staring with its lack of eyes.

“Jek, now is not a good time.” She had hissed, rubbing the back of the woman.

“The Police are here.” It had said.

“fucking hell.” Dr. Hide had shoo’d the police away, who simply wanted to know who lived at the house. When she had returned, the woman had calmed down, and was wiping her tears away with a cloth given to her by jekyll.

She had introduced herself as Carcei Wisteria, the teamaid of Emperor Ivalace. Dr. Hide didn’t quite know what that meant, but was happy enough to support her.

Carcie was on her way to get a very specific flower to make tea with. something that would be VERY HARD WITHOUT HER FEET. So Hide offered her help, Pulling out her old wheelchair and offering her help carrying the flowers and seeds back to her home.

Carcie had (Reluctantly) accepted her offer, and the pair took a three month journey to find these flowers, a gorgeous plant nicknamed “Selene's Prayer”.  

For months after meeting and befriending the woman, someone Hide quickly grew to admire for her silver tongue and for her sharp mind, Hide would not know why Carcie wanted Selene’s Prayer, until one night, late in Pistil’s seasonal cycle, when plants dried and what chill that constituted Pistil’s winters was just beginning to set in, gathered over warm tea and surrounded by the smell of drying earth and burning silverwood, Carcie wove her tale.

Carcie Wisteria had been born Carcie Forsythia, and had trained under a noble of Dandil, the once name of the kingdom before it became territory of Peat. She had quickly became a gift to the Empress, Magnola, and even quicker became her High Teamaid, a position of high honour and status.

Magnola was apparently fond of Carcie, and often took her to peace talks and trade negotiations. Which is how she met them, a otherworldly seeming person who chose their name as Odyssey Velium.

Odyssey was tall, dark, freckled, with short dark red hair and smoky violet eyes that shone like a sunset. They was a similarly high ranked dressmaid to the former Emperor of Peat, a kindly older man by the name of Prairifire and one of Dandil’s strongest Allies. Carcie fell in love near instantly, and apparently Odyssey felt the same way, and the pair began a whirlwind relationship over letters. 

The years went on, the pair only seeing each other in person when Empress Magnola and Emperor Prairifire met up for tea, their love affair remained a secret. until one of the more Enterprising Teamaids discovered Carcie’s letters from Odyssey, and outed her relationship to both rulers. 

The pair believed themselves to only had a few hours together before their verdict handed out and they would be separated. 

and they were given their rulers blessings to be wed.

Odyssey was gifted to Magnola as a dressmaid, and they were engaged, choosing their family name to be Wisteria.

A few months passed, the kingdoms Alliship stronger than ever, before Emperor Prairifire died,and his War mongering son took the throne, and a new treaty needed to be written up.

Carcie just happen to be late to the Congress, her maids having made a near unrecoverable mistake with the petals, and she arrived just in time to see her Queen, her court, and her never to be partner slaughtered.

As was customary, she was taken as a prize, and made to serve her loves killer the same tea she would to her queen, as he took over the land she loved.

The petals of Selene’s Prayer, it turns out, were a horrific paralysis agent, as well as a hallucinogen. and a strong one. When mixed with the right Poisons, it would lead to a painful and terrifying death. One Carcie intended to give to the entire court as she watched.

Hide had only one thing to say after that.

“after the revenge, what will you do?“

“Probably be put to death, why?”

“wanna join my semi-immortal band of space pirates exploring the galaxy?” When Carcie said nothing, Hide continued, “i could just replace your feet with a mechanism like my lower body and Bam! Unkillable!”

“your kidding.”

“nope!” To demonstrate, Hide put a knife through her hand, and then showed the skin kniting itself back together.

“holy shit your not kidding?” Carcie puffed up “WHY DIDN'T YOU DO THAT WHEN WE FIRST MET!”

“DO YOU WANT BE STUCK LIVING WITH SOMEONE WHO DIDN'T ASK TO BE IMMORTAL AND IS ANGRY WITH YOU FOR ETERNITY? I'D FEEL SO GUILTY! plus it kinda hurts for a few weeks after”

the pair laughed.

“Mari,” Carcie said, 

“Oh wow, using my first name! this is serious.”

“Mari.” Carice narrowed her eyes, “I want you to promise me something if i go through with this.”

“ok?”

“Promise me we’ll steal a bigger ship than Borealis after my revenge.”

“HELL YES!” Hide laughed, “so when is this going down?”

“Tomorrow.” Carice said,carefulling sipping her tea as Hide suddenly choked,

“TOMORROW SHIT I GOTTA GET A GOOD SEAT!” Hide threw a hug around Carcies shoulders, “Can't wait to see your magnum opus of vengeance, if Jekyll asks i'm following my family's footsteps!”  

“see ya Hide!”

 Sunrise came, and Carcie got to work. She dismissed her Teamaids for the day (”you’ve all worked so hard lately, and you deserve a break!”), and set to work brewing her poison. 

When the court downed the tea, the poison took quick. The paralysis only took hold of a few but the hallucinations were strong and maddening and within hours, the branches of the meeting hall were covered in madness and gore and horror. And standing in the middle, survivors would later say, stood Carcie, her mourning veil cloaking hazel eyes that had long hardened to earth and moss.

and dropping from an over head branch, was Hide, casting impressed eyes over her work.

“Were grabbing more of those seeds right?”

“mhm.”

“were taking all of your seeds aren't we?” 

“and the dry flowers.”

“sounds good!”

----------

WOO! That was fun! 

If you have any questions about my Crew, please ask! My ask box is open and Id love to gush or expand on the universe. also ask me to tag

[hlupdate]

Harry Styles isn’t exactly dressed down for lunch. He’s got a white floppy hat that Diana Ross might have won from Elton in a poker game at Cher’s mansion circa 1974, plus Gucci shades, a cashmere sweater, and blue denim bell-bottoms. His nail polish is pink and mint green. He’s also carrying his purse — no other word for it — a yellow patent-canvas bag with the logo “Chateau Marmont.” The tough old ladies who work at this Beverly Hills deli know him well. Gloria and Raisa dote on him, calling him “my love” and bringing him his usual tuna salad and iced coffee. He turns heads, to put it mildly, but nobody comes near because the waitresses hover around the booth protectively.

He was just a small-town English lad of 16 when he became his generation’s pop idol with One Direction. When the group went on hiatus, he struck out on his own with his brash 2017 solo debut, whose lead single was the magnificently over-the-top six-minute piano ballad “Sign of the Times.” Even people who missed out on One Direction were shocked to learn the truth: This pinup boy was a rock star at heart.

A quick highlight reel of Harry’s 2019 so far: He hosted the Met Gala with Lady Gaga, Serena Williams, Alessandro Michele, and Anna Wintour serving an eyebrow-raising black lace red-carpet look. He is the official face of a designer genderless fragrance, Gucci’s Mémoire d’une Odeur. When James Corden had an all-star dodgeball match on The Late Late Show, Harry got spiked by a hard serve from Michelle Obama, making him perhaps the first Englishman ever hit in the nads on TV by a First Lady.

Closer to his heart, he brought down the house at this year’s Rock & Roll Hall of Fame ceremony with his tribute to his friend and idol Stevie Nicks. “She’s always there for you,” Harry said in his speech. “She knows what you need: advice, a little wisdom, a blouse, a shawl.” He added, “She’s responsible for more running mascara — including my own — than all the bad dates in history.” (Backstage, Nicks accidentally referred to Harry’s former band as “’NSync.” Hey, a goddess can get away with that sort of thing.)

Harry has been the world’s It boy for nearly a decade now. The weirdest thing about him? He loves being this guy. In a style of fast-lane celebrity that takes a ruthless toll on the artist’s personality, creativity, sanity, Harry is almost freakishly at ease. He has managed to grow up in public with all his boyish enthusiasm intact, not to mention his manners. He’s dated a string of high-profile women — but he never gets caught uttering any of their names in public, much less shading any of them. Instead of going the usual superstar-pop route — en vogue producers, celebrity duets, glitzy club beats — he’s gone his own way, and gotten more popular than ever. He’s putting the finishing touches on his new album, full of the toughest, most soulful songs he’s written yet. As he explains, “It’s all about having sex and feeling sad.”

The Harry Charm is a force of nature, and it can be almost frightening to witness in action. The most startling example might be a backstage photo from February taken with one of his heroes, Van Morrison. You have never seen a Van picture like this one. He’s been posing for photos for 50 years, and he’s been refusing to crack a smile in nearly all of them. Until he met Harry — for some reason, Van beams like a giddy schoolgirl. What did Harry do to him? “I was tickling him behind his back,” Harry confides. “Somebody sent me that photo — I think his tour manager took it. When I saw it, I felt like John Travolta in Pulp Fiction opening the case with the gold light shining. I was like, ‘Fuck, maybe I shouldn’t show this to anyone.’”

In interviews, Harry has always tended to coast on that charm, simply because he can. In his teens, he was in public every minute and became adept at guarding every scrap of his privacy. But these days, he’s finding out he has things he wants to say. He’s more confident about thinking out loud and seeing what happens. “Looser” is how he puts it. “More open. I’m discovering how much better it makes me feel to be open with friends. Feeling that vulnerability, rather than holding everything in.”

Like a lot of people his age, he’s asking questions about culture, gender, identity, new ideas about masculinity and sexuality. “I feel pretty lucky to have a group of friends who are guys who would talk about their emotions and be really open,” he says. “My friend’s dad said to me, ‘You guys are so much better at it than we are. I never had friends I could really talk to. It’s good that you guys have each other because you talk about real shit. We just didn’t.’”

It’s changed how he approaches his songs. “For me, it doesn’t mean I’ll sit down and be like, ‘This is what I have for dinner, and this is where I eat every day, and this is what I do before I go to bed,’” he says. “But I will tell you that I can be really pathetic when I’m jealous. Feeling happier than I’ve ever been, sadder than I’ve ever been, feeling sorry for myself, being mad at myself, being petty and pitiful — it feels really different to share that.”

At times, Harry sounds like an ordinary 25-year-old figuring his shit out, which, of course, he is. (Harry and I got to know each other last year, when he got in touch after reading one of my books, though I’d already been writing about his music for years.) It’s strange to hear him talk about shedding his anxieties and doubts, since he’s always come across as one of the planet’s most confident people. “While I was in the band,” he says, “I was constantly scared I might sing a wrong note. I felt so much weight in terms of not getting things wrong. I remember when I signed my record deal and I asked my manager, ‘What happens if I get arrested? Does it mean the contract is null and void?’ Now, I feel like the fans have given me an environment to be myself and grow up and create this safe space to learn and make mistakes.”

We slip out the back and spend a Saturday afternoon cruising L.A. in his 1972 silver Jaguar E-type. The radio doesn’t work, so we just sing “Old Town Road.” He marvels, “‘Bull riding and boobies’ — that is potentially the greatest lyric in any song ever.” Harry used to be pop’s mystery boy, so diplomatic and tight-lipped. But as he opens up over time, telling his story, he reaches the point where he’s pitching possible headlines for this profile. His best: “Soup, Sex, and Sun Salutations.”

How did he get to this new place? As it turns out, the journey involves some heartbreak. Some guidance from David Bowie. Some Transcendental Meditation. And more than a handful of magic mushrooms. But mostly, it comes down to a curious kid who can’t decide whether to be the world’s most ardently adored pop star, or a freaky artiste. So he decides to be both.

Two things about English rock stars never change: They love Southern California, and they love cars. A few days after Harry proclaimed the genius of “Old Town Road,” we’re in a different ride — a Tesla — cruising the Pacific Coast Highway while Harry sings along to the radio. “Californiaaaaaa!” he yells from behind the wheel as we whip past Zuma Beach. “It sucks!” There’s a surprising number of couples along the beach who seem to be arguing. We speculate on which ones are breaking up and which are merely having the talk. “Ah, yes, the talk,” Harry says dreamily. “Ye olde chat.”

Harry is feeling the smooth Seventies yacht-rock grooves today, blasting Gerry Rafferty, Pablo Cruise, Hall and Oates. When I mention that Nina Simone once did a version of “Rich Girl,” he needs to hear it right away. He counters by blowing my mind with Donny Hathaway’s version of John Lennon’s “Jealous Guy.”

Harry raves about a quintessential SoCal trip he just tried: a “cold sauna,” a process that involves getting locked in an ice chamber. His eyelashes froze. We stop for a smoothie (“It’s basically ice cream”) and his favorite pepper-intensive wheatgrass shot. It goes down like a dose of battery acid. “That’ll add years to your life,” he assures me.

We’re on our way to Shangri-La studios in Malibu, founded by the Band back in the 1970s, now owned by Rick Rubin. It’s where Harry made some of the upcoming album, and as we walk in, he grins at the memory. “Ah, yes,” he says. “Did a lot of mushrooms in here.”

Psychedelics have started to play a key role in his creative process. “We’d do mushrooms, lie down on the grass, and listen to Paul McCartney’s Ram in the sunshine,” he says. “We’d just turn the speakers into the yard.” The chocolate edibles were kept in the studio fridge, right next to the blender. “You’d hear the blender going, and think, ‘So we’re all having frozen margaritas at 10 a.m. this morning.’” He points to a corner: “This is where I was standing when we were doing mushrooms and I bit off the tip of my tongue. So I was trying to sing with all this blood gushing out of my mouth. So many fond memories, this place.”

It’s not mere rock-star debauchery — it’s emblematic of his new state of mind. You get the feeling this is why he enjoys studios so much. After so many years making One Direction albums while touring, always on the run, he finally gets to take his time and embrace the insanity of it all. “We were here for six weeks in Malibu, without going into the city,” he says. “People would bring their dogs and kids. We’d take a break to play cornhole tournaments. Family values!” But it’s also the place where he has proudly bled for his art. “Mushrooms and Blood. Now there’s an album title.”

Some of the engineers come over to catch up on gossip. Harry gestures out the window to the Pacific waves, where the occasional nude revelry might have happened, and where the occasional pair of pants got lost. “There was one night where we’d been partying a bit and ended up going down to the beach and I lost all my stuff, basically,” he says. “I lost all my clothes. I lost my wallet. Maybe a month later, somebody found my wallet and mailed it back, anonymously. I guess it just popped out of the sand. But what’s sad is, I lost my favorite mustard corduroy flares.” A moment of silence is held for the corduroy flares.

Recording in the studio today is Brockhampton, the self-proclaimed “world’s greatest boy band.” Harry says hi to all the Brockhampton guys, which takes a while since there seem to be a few dozen of them. “We’re together all the time,” one tells Harry out in the yard. “We see each other all day, every day.” He pauses. “You know how it is.”

Harry breaks into a dry grin. “Yes, I know how it is.”

One Direction made three of this century’s biggest and best pop albums in a rush — Midnight Memories, Four and Made in the A.M. Yet they cut those records on tour, ducking into the nearest studio when they had a day off. 1D were a unique mix of five different musical personalities: Harry, Niall Horan, Louis Tomlinson, Zayn Malik, and Liam Payne. But the pace took its toll. Malik quit in the middle of a tour, immediately after a show in Hong Kong. The band announced its hiatus in August 2015.

It’s traditional for boy-band singers, as they go solo and grow up, to renounce their pop past. Everybody remembers George Michael setting his leather jacket on fire, or Sting quitting the Police to make jazz records. This isn’t really Harry Styles’ mentality. “I know it’s the thing that always happens. When somebody gets out of a band, they go, ‘That wasn’t me. I was held back.’ But it was me. And I don’t feel like I was held back at all. It was so much fun. If I didn’t enjoy it, I wouldn’t have done it. It’s not like I was tied to a radiator.”

Whenever Harry mentions One Direction — never by name, always “the band” or “the band I was in” — he uses the past tense. It is my unpleasant duty to ask: Does he see 1D as over? “I don’t know,” he says. “I don’t think I’d ever say I’d never do it again, because I don’t feel that way. If there’s a time when we all really want to do it, that’s the only time for us to do it, because I don’t think it should be about anything else other than the fact that we’re all like, ‘Hey, this was really fun. We should do this again.’ But until that time, I feel like I’m really enjoying making music and experimenting. I enjoy making music this way too much to see myself doing a full switch, to go back and do that again. Because I also think if we went back to doing things the same way, it wouldn’t be the same, anyway.”

When the band stopped, did he take those friendships with him? “Yeah, I think so,” he says. “Definitely. Because above all else, we’re the people who went through that. We’re always going to have that, even if we’re not the closest. And the fact is, just because you’re in a band with someone doesn’t mean you have to be best friends. That’s not always how it works. Just because Fleetwood Mac fight, that doesn’t mean they’re not amazing. I think even in the disagreements, there’s always a mutual respect for each other — we did this really cool thing together, and we’ll always have that. It’s too important to me to ever be like, ‘Oh, that’s done.’ But if it happens, it will happen for the right reasons.”

If the intensity of the Harry fandom ever seems mysterious to you, there’s a live clip you might want to investigate, from the summer of 2018. Just search the phrase “Tina, she’s gay.” In San Jose, on one of the final nights of his tour, Harry spots a fan with a homemade sign: “I’m Gonna Come Out to My Parents Because of You!” He asks the fan her name (she says it’s Grace) and her mother’s name (Tina). He asks the audience for silence because he has an important announcement to make: “Tina! She’s gaaaaay!” Then he has the entire crowd say it together. Thousands of strangers start yelling “Tina, she’s gay,” and every one of them clearly means it — it’s a heavy moment, definitely not a sound you forget after you hear it. Then Harry sings “What Makes You Beautiful.” (Of course, the way things work now, the clip went viral within minutes. So did Grace’s photo of Tina giving a loving thumbs-up to her now-out teenage daughter. Grace and Tina attended Harry’s next show together.)

Harry likes to cultivate an aura of sexual ambiguity, as overt as the pink polish on his nails. He’s dated women throughout his life as a public figure, yet he has consistently refused to put any kind of label on his sexuality. On his first solo tour, he frequently waved the pride, bi, and trans flags, along with the Black Lives Matter flag. In Philly, he waved a rainbow flag he borrowed from a fan up front: “Make America Gay Again.” One of the live fan favorites: “Medicine,” a guitar jam that sounds a bit like the Grateful Dead circa Europe ’72, but with a flamboyantly pansexual hook: “The boys and girls are in/I mess around with them/And I’m OK with it.”

He’s always had a flair for flourishes like this, since the 1D days. An iconic clip from November 2014: Harry and Liam are on a U.K. chat show. The host asks the oldest boy-band fan-bait question in the book: What do they look for in a date? “Female,” Liam quips. “That’s a good trait.” Harry shrugs. “Not that important.” Liam is taken aback. The host is in shock. On tour in the U.S. that year, he wore a Michael Sam football jersey, in support of the first openly gay player drafted by an NFL team. He’s blown up previously unknown queer artists like King Princess and Muna.

What do those flags onstage mean to him? “I want to make people feel comfortable being whatever they want to be,” he says. “Maybe at a show you can have a moment of knowing that you’re not alone. I’m aware that as a white male, I don’t go through the same things as a lot of the people that come to the shows. I can’t claim that I know what it’s like, because I don’t. So I’m not trying to say, ‘I understand what it’s like.’ I’m just trying to make people feel included and seen.”

On tour, he had an End Gun Violence sticker on his guitar; he added a Black Lives Matter sticker, as well as the flag. “It’s not about me trying to champion the cause, because I’m not the person to do that,” he says. “It’s just about not ignoring it, I guess. I was a little nervous to do that because the last thing I wanted was for it to feel like I was saying, ‘Look at me! I’m the good guy!’ I didn’t want anyone who was really involved in the movement to think, ‘What the fuck do you know?’ But then when I did it, I realized people got it. Everyone in that room is on the same page and everyone knows what I stand for. I’m not saying I understand how it feels. I’m just trying to say, ‘I see you.’”

At one of his earliest solo shows, in Stockholm, he announced, “If you are black, if you are white, if you are gay, if you are straight, if you are transgender — whoever you are, whoever you want to be, I support you. I love every single one of you.” “It’s a room full of accepting people.… If you’re someone who feels like an outsider, you’re not always in a big crowd like that,” he says. “It’s not about, ‘Oh, I get what it’s like,’ because I don’t. For example, I go walking at night before bed most of the time. I was talking about that with a female friend and she said, ‘Do you feel safe doing that?’ And I do. But when I walk, I’m more aware that I feel OK to walk at night, and some of my friends wouldn’t. I’m not saying I know what it feels like to go through that. It’s just being aware.”

‘Man cannot live by coffee alone,” Harry says. “But he will give it a damn good try.” He sips his iced Americano — not his first today, or his last. He’s back behind the wheel, on a mission to yet another studio — but this time for actual work. Today it’s string overdubs. Harry is dressed in Gucci from head to toe, except for one item of clothing: a ratty Seventies rock T-shirt he proudly scavenged from a vintage shop. It says “Commander Quaalude.”

On the drive over, he puts on the jazz pianist Bill Evans — “Peace Piece,” from 1959, which is the wake-up tone on his phone. He just got into jazz during a long sojourn in Japan. He likes to find places to hide out and be anonymous: For his first album, he decamped to Jamaica. Over the past year, he spent months roaming Japan.

In February, he spent his 25th birthday sitting by himself in a Tokyo cafe, reading Haruki Murakami’s The Wind-Up Bird Chronicle. “I love Murakami,” he says. “He’s one of my favorites. Reading didn’t really used to be my thing. I had such a short attention span. But I was dating someone who gave me some books; I felt like I had to read them because she’d think I was a dummy if I didn’t read them.”

A friend gave him Murakami’s Norwegian Wood. “It was the first book, maybe ever, where all I wanted to do all day was read this,” he says. “I had a very Murakami birthday because I ended up staying in Tokyo on my own. I had grilled fish and miso soup for breakfast, then I went to this cafe. I sat and drank tea and read for five hours.”

In the studio, he’s overseeing the string quartet. He has the engineers play T. Rex’s “Cosmic Dancer” for them, to illustrate the vibe he’s going for. You can see he enjoys being on this side of the glass, sitting at the Neve board, giving his instructions to the musicians. After a few run-throughs, he presses the intercom button to say, “Yeah, it’s pretty T. Rex. Best damn strings I ever heard.” He buzzes again to add, “And you’re all wonderful people.”

He’s curated his own weird enclave of kindred spirits to collaborate with, like producers Jeff Bhasker and Tyler Johnson. His guitarist Mitch Rowland was working at an L.A. pizza shop when Harry met him. They started writing songs for the debut; Rowland didn’t quit his job until two weeks into the sessions. One of his closest collaborators is also one of his best friends: Tom Hull, a.k.a. Kid Harpoon, a longtime cohort of Florence and the Machine. Hull is an effusive Brit with a heart-on-sleeve personality. Harry calls him “my emotional rock.” Hull calls him “Gary.”

Hull was the one who talked him into taking a course on Transcendental Meditation at David Lynch’s institute — beginning each day with 20 minutes of silence, which doesn’t always come naturally to either of them. “He’s got this wise-beyond-his-years timelessness about him,” Hull says. “That’s why he went on a whole emotional exploration with these songs.” He’s 12 years older, with a wife and kids in Scotland, and talks about Harry like an irreverent but doting big brother.

Last year, Harry was in the gossip columns dating the French model Camille Rowe; they split up last summer after a year together. “He went through this breakup that had a big impact on him,” Hull says. “I turned up on Day One in the studio, and I had these really nice slippers on. His ex-girlfriend that he was really cut up about, she gave them to me as a present — she bought slippers for my whole family. We’re still close friends with her. I thought, ‘I like these slippers. Can I wear them — is that weird?’

“So I turn up at Shangri-La the first day and literally within the first half-hour, he looks at me and says, ‘Where’d you get those slippers? They’re nice.’ I had to say, ‘Oh, um, your ex-girlfriend got them for me.’ He said, ‘Whaaaat? How could you wear those?’ He had a whole emotional journey about her, this whole relationship. But I kept saying, ‘The best way of dealing with it is to put it in these songs you’re writing.’”

True to his code of gallant discretion, Harry doesn’t say her name at any point. But he admits the songs are coming from personal heartbreak. “It’s not like I’ve ever sat and done an interview and said, ‘So I was in a relationship, and this is what happened,’” he says. “Because, for me, music is where I let that cross over. It’s the only place, strangely, where it feels right to let that cross over.”

The new songs are certainly charged with pain. “The stars didn’t align for them to be a forever thing,” Hull says. “But I told him that famous Iggy Pop quote where he says, ‘I only ever date women who are going to fuck me up, because that’s where the songs are.’ I said, ‘You’re 24, 25 years old, you’re in the eligible-bachelor category. Just date amazing women, or men, or whatever, who are going to fuck you up, and explore and have an adventure and let it affect you and write songs about it.’”

His band is full of indie rockers who’ve gotten swept up in Hurricane Harry. Before becoming his iconic drum goddess, Sarah Jones played in New Young Pony Club, a London band fondly remembered by a few dozen of us. Rowland and Jones barely knew anything about One Direction before they met Harry — the first time they heard “Story of My Life” was when he asked them to play it. Their conversation is full of references to Big Star or Guided by Voices or the Nils Lofgren guitar solo in Neil Young’s “Speakin’ Out.” This is a band full of shameless rock geeks, untainted by industry professionalism.

In the studio, while making the album, Harry kept watching a vintage Bowie clip on his phone — a late-Nineties TV interview I’d never seen. As he plays it for me, he recites along — he’s got the rap memorized. “Never play to the gallery,” Bowie advises. “Never work for other people in what you do.” For Harry, this was an inspiring pep talk — a reminder not to play it safe. As Bowie says, “If you feel safe in the area that you’re working in, you’re not working in the right area. Always go a little further into the water than you feel you are capable of being in. Go a little bit out of your depth. And when you don’t feel that your feet are quite touching the bottom, you’re just about in the right place to do something exciting.”

He got so obsessive about Joni Mitchell and her 1971 classic Blue, he went on a quest. “I was in a big Joni hole,” he says. “I kept hearing the dulcimer all over Blue. So I tracked down the lady who built Joni’s dulcimers in the Sixties.” He found her living in Culver City. “She said, ‘Come and see me,’” Hull says. “We turn up at her house and he said, ‘How do you even play a dulcimer?’ She gave us a lesson. Then she got a bongo and we were all jamming with these big Cheshire Cat grins.” She built the dulcimer Harry plays on the new album. “Joni Mitchell and Van Morrison, those are my two favorites,” he says. “Blue and Astral Weeks are just the ultimate in terms of songwriting. Melody-wise, they’re in their own lane.”

He’s always been the type to go overboard with his fanboy enthusiasms, ever since he was a kid and got his mind blown by Pulp Fiction. “I watched it when I was probably too young,” he admits. “But when I was 13, I saved up money from my paper route to buy a ‘Bad Motherfucker’ wallet. Just a stupid white kid in the English countryside with that wallet.” While in Japan, he got obsessively into Paul McCartney and Wings, especially London Town and Back to the Egg. “In Tokyo I used to go to a vinyl bar, but the bartender didn’t have Wings records. So I brought him Back to the Egg. ‘Arrow Through Me,’ that was the song I had to hear every day when I was in Japan.”

He credits meditation for helping to loosen him up. “I was such a skeptic going in,” he says. “But I think meditation has helped with worrying about the future less, and the past less. I feel like I take a lot more in—things that used to pass by me because I was always rushing around. It’s part of being more open and talking with friends. It’s not always the easiest to go in a room and say, ‘I made a mistake and it made me feel like this, and then I cried a bunch.’ But that moment where you really let yourself be in that zone of being vulnerable, you reach this feeling of openness. That’s when you feel like, ‘Oh, I’m fucking living, man.’”

After quite a few hours of recording the string quartet, a bottle of Casamigos tequila is opened. Commander Quaalude pours the drinks, then decides what the song needs now is a gaggle of nonsingers bellowing the chorus. “Muppet vocals” is how he describes it. He drags everyone in sight to crowd around the mics. Between takes, he wanders over to the piano to play Harry Nilsson’s “Gotta Get Up.” One of the choir members, creative director Molly Hawkins, is the friend who gave him the Murakami novel. “I think every man should read Norwegian Wood,” she says. “Harry’s the only man I’ve given it to who actually read it.”

It’s been a hard day’s night in the studio, but after hours, everyone heads to a dive bar on the other side of town to see Rowland play a gig. He’s sitting in with a local bar band, playing bass. Harry drives around looking for the place, taking in the sights of downtown L.A. (“Only a city as narcissistic as L.A. would have a street called Los Angeles Street,” he says.) He strolls in and leans against the bar in the back of the room. It’s an older crowd, and nobody here has any clue who he is. He’s entirely comfortable lurking incognito in a dim gin joint. After the gig, as the band toasts with PBRs, an old guy in a ball cap strolls over and gives Rowland a proud bear hug. It’s his boss from the pizza shop.

In the wee hours, Harry drives down a deserted Sunset Boulevard, his favorite time of night to explore the city streets, arguing over which is the best Steely Dan album. He insists that Can’t Buy a Thrill is better than Countdown to Ecstasy (wrongly), and seals his case by turning it up and belting “Midnight Cruiser” with truly appalling gusto. Tonight Hollywood is full of bright lights, glitzy clubs, red carpets, but the prettiest pop star in town is behind the wheel, singing along with every note of the sax solo from “Dirty Work.”

A few days later, on the other side of the world: Harry’s pad in London is lavish, yet very much a young single dude’s lair. Over here: a wall-size framed Sex Pistols album cover. Over there: a vinyl copy of Stevie Nicks’ The Other Side of the Mirror, casually resting on the floor. He’s having a cup of tea with his mum, Anne, the spitting image of her son, all grace and poise. “We’re off to the pub,” he tells her. “We’re going to talk some shop.” She smiles sweetly. “Talk some shit, probably,” says Anne.

We head off to his local, sloshing through the rain. He’s wearing a Spice World hoodie and savoring the soggy London-osity of the day. “Ah, Londres!” he says grandly. “I missed this place.” He wants to sit at a table outside, even though it’s pouring, and we chat away the afternoon over a pot of mint tea and a massive plate of fish and chips. When I ask for toast, the waitress brings out a loaf of bread roughly the size of a wheelbarrow. “Welcome to England,” Harry says.

He’s always had a fervent female fandom, and, admirably, he’s never felt a need to pretend he doesn’t love it that way. “They’re the most honest — especially if you’re talking about teenage girls, but older as well,” he says. “They have that bullshit detector. You want honest people as your audience. We’re so past that dumb outdated narrative of ‘Oh, these people are girls, so they don’t know what they’re talking about.’ They’re the ones who know what they’re talking about. They’re the people who listen obsessively. They fucking own this shit. They’re running it.”

He doesn’t have the uptightness some people have about sexual politics, or about identifying as a feminist. “I think ultimately feminism is thinking that men and women should be equal, right? People think that if you say ‘I’m a feminist,’ it means you think men should burn in hell and women should trample on their necks. No, you think women should be equal. That doesn’t feel like a crazy thing to me. I grew up with my mum and my sister — when you grow up around women, your female influence is just bigger. Of course men and women should be equal. I don’t want a lot of credit for being a feminist. It’s pretty simple. I think the ideals of feminism are pretty straightforward.”

His audience has a reputation for ferocity, and the reputation is totally justified. At last summer’s show at Madison Square Garden, the floor was wobbling during “Kiwi” — I’ve been seeing shows there since the 1980s, but I’d never seen that happen before. (The only other time? His second night.) His bandmates admit they feared for their lives, but Harry relished it. “To me, the greatest thing about the tour was that the room became the show,” he says. “It’s not just me.” He sips his tea. “I’m just a boy, standing in front of a room, asking them to bear with him.”

That evening, Fleetwood Mac take the stage in London — a sold-out homecoming gig at Wembley Stadium, the last U.K. show of their tour. Needless to say, their most devoted fan is in the house. Harry has brought a date: his mother, her first Fleetwood Mac show. He’s also with his big sister Gemma, bandmates Rowland and Jones, a couple of friends.

He’s in hyperactive-host mode, buzzing around his cozy VIP box, making sure everyone’s champagne glass is topped off at all times. As soon as the show begins, Harry’s up on his feet, singing along (“Tell me, tell me liiiiies!”) and cracking jokes. You can tell he feels free — as if his radar is telling him there aren’t snoopers or paparazzi watching. (He’s correct. This is a rare public appearance where nobody spots him and no photos leak online.) It’s family night. His friend Mick Fleetwood wilds out on the drum solo. “Imagine being that cool,” Gemma says.

Midway through the show, Harry’s demeanor suddenly changes. He gets uncharacteristically solemn and quiet, sitting down by himself and focusing intently on the stage. It’s the first time all night he’s taken a seat. He’s in a different zone than he was in a few minutes ago. But he’s seen many Fleetwood Mac shows, and he knows where they are in the set. It’s time for “Landslide.” He sits with his chin in hand, his eyes zeroing in on Stevie Nicks. As usual, she introduces her most famous song with the story of how she wrote it when she was just a lass of 27.

But Stevie has something else she wants to share. She tells the stadium crowd, “I’d like to dedicate this to my little muse, Harry Styles, who brought his mother tonight. Her name is Anne. And I think you did a really good job raising Harry, Anne. Because he’s really a gentleman, sweet and talented, and, boy, that appeals to me. So all of you, this is for you.”

As Stevie starts to sing “Landslide” — “I’ve been afraid of changing, because I built my life around youuuu” — Anne walks over to where Harry sits. She crouches down behind him, reaches her arms around him tightly. Neither of them says a word. They listen together and hold each other close to the very end of the song. Everybody in Wembley is singing along with Stevie, but these two are in a world of their own.

[starr-fall-knight-rise]

Humans are Weird “We Come in Peace.”

This was difficult to write, and I am not sure if it makes much sense, but I promised to write this one for you, and I did my best. If you like writings about the logistics of a first contact situation go ahead and send me more ideas. I was thinking about learning about simple human biology would be interesting, 

As always I hope you enjoy feel free to comment, question, critique, message or anything else. 

Captain Kelly stood below the ramp of the strange alien ship surrounded on all sides by her most trusted companions. To her left, her first lieutenant, to her right, her linguistics specialist directly behind her three of her most experienced men, and right to the back…. The 2nd lieutenant who had begged her on his knees to tag along. He was young and inexperienced, but then again, he had shown resolve under pressure and probably kept them from being shot. Because of him they were taking their first steps into communication with an alien race.

Above them, the ramp began to lower releasing light downwards upon them. At the top a set of sentries watched them with tense anticipation. She may not speak alien, but she knew caution when she saw it. She urged her team upwards, the boots of her space suit thudding against the strange material.

Lieutenant Vir hurried up to stand next to walk next to her a bounce in his step, eyes wide with childish wonder. She sort of hoped he never lost that, she also hoped that he would never have a reason to.

They stopped at the top of the ramp, as the door hissed shut behind them leaving them alone and stranded aboard an alien ship.

***

The atmosphere of frustration was clear. The galactic assembly’s best specialists had been sent out to attempt and make communication possible between the two species but so far, they had made no real progress. The variability in the creature’s intonations and voices made it structurally impossible to tell what they were trying to say and even identify if they were saying the same thing. A hiss from one sounded completely structurally different from the hiss from another. Additionally, they seemed to refer to themselves through a multiple combinations of the sounds.

On the other hand, scientists had made greater headway in learning about the creatures genetically and structurally. The human leader, the small one, had handed off the green-orbed creature for scientific testing, and despite its constant need to touch things, it was easy to deal with. From examination, they learned that the creature spoke based on a system of fluctuating air pressed out from its esophagus, through two vibrating vocal bands, and the interaction of its mouth, specifically a muscle within the mouth. Unfortunately each creature had varying sizes of vocal cords, tongues, teeth, and nasal passageways making communication completely different creature to creature.

Conversely, the creatures seemed to be growing irritated, as they did not understand their complex, additional, body posturing. One specifically including one digit pointing in random directions, and then the creature would get angry when they didn’t understand.

Things had ground to a halt at this point. The main creature was resting its head against the table, the second one was frantically gesticulating towards and unknown device, and the other three looked saggier than usual. The only one who didn’t seem to have changed was the green-orb creature watching from close by as a scientists took measurements about his chest.

The curious-eyed creature had been watching silently for some time before shrugging himself away from the scientist, to range across the room gathering all the chairs and dragging them into a large group. Creatures and member of the council alike stared at the creature with confusion. By the time he was finished all the chairs were piled in the circle at the center of the room. Everyone was standing ty this point having had their chairs confiscated.

The creature pulled one of the chairs forward a sharp chirp and a growl. He brought forth the next one and repeated the sound. He did this over and over again, and then urged the other creatures to do so one after the other.

“Wait, wait, I think I understand.”

“Someone, start recording.”

They ran statistics comparing the different sounds and found they had the same rhythmic pattern to them. “Chair,” They repeated.

***

“Why didn’t they get it when I said that?” Their linguist asked angrily as the aliens chirped to each other excitedly. They grabbed a chair and made a noise. It was a weird kind of sequel and hiss.

Adam did his best to copy it. The aliens parroted it back to him a few times excited with his copying rendition.

They sat down again moved by a new vigor. Captain Kelly finally let the boy over. He was proving himself to be more useful to this mission than he had any right to be, and if they were going to communicate with these inhuman beings, than they were going to have to use all of their available assets.

***

It was important to first establish the nouns for objects. Each one had to be carefully statistically analyzed for difference in language pattern, but just because they knew the names of objects meant absolutely nothing. The rules and meanings of their language would be difficult to puzzle out.

Personal pronouns proved to be an issue that took them some hours to puzzle out. Certain ones accepted He some accepted She and all accepted they although they could be an identifier for a group of the creatures though a group of creatures was not called a “They”. We was used when the creature speaking was part of the group indicated. They themselves could not be part of a they, but they could be part of a we. They seemed very reluctant to explain the difference between a he and a she, and so they left that particular mystery for another time accepting what the creatures told them as fact.

They eventually got the name of their race, though, of course, there was no direct translation. The word consisted of a short exhalation of air then a hum a chip and then another sort of humming sound.

“Human.”

It took an entire session just to explain these personal pronouns in relation to the nous they already understood.

The humans came back the next day with new equipment proceeding to draw images, and symbols that apparently represented the sounds that they made. It was fascinating to find that they had a written language proving once and for all that they were a sentient species equal to any in the galactic assembly.

The green eyed human remained integral in these discussions. Despite his inferior position in the hierarchy, he was the first to act, and sometimes, the first to understand. He was the one who made it clear that body language was just as important to the “Humans” as was spoken language. Pointing with a single digit was to indicate attention be focused on a specific object. A head shake meant no and a nod meant yes. The lifting of both shoulders was an indication of confusion neither agreeing nor disagreeing.  

“I” and “Me” were indications of the self though each creature also had a personal name. In certain cases they had three names…. Though that wasn’t discovered until later.

“I was usually followed by an action I run, I walk while “Me” Denoted something happening to a person, for me, to me, with me. Us and We acted the same way.

“You” was the word they used when speaking to another creature, when not unitizing their personal name.

Motion words followed their personal pronouns. The leader spoke the words while the green eyed creature demonstrated. He waked, he ran, he spun and he jumped.

Going, was a general term indicating the movement to somewhere, coming meant to return or to journey FROM a location.

The first sentence, “I come.”

“You come.” The creature said pointing at one member of the council.

Hesitantly they walked forward towards the human.

The room around erupted as the creatures began shrieking and showing their teeth. They fled backwards away from the horrible display of maddened barbarism. Upon seeing this the humans calmed hands in the air vital organs exposed.

No words could be shared, so no one understood what was happening.

How were we to know that facial expressions were so important?

It took another day to explain wanting something and then possession.

I want, I have, we want, we have.

General verbs followed that, beginning with easy concepts not abstract. To speak, to fly, to breathe.

All throughout they learned question words beginning with what paired with that. What to ask what something is or was, but usually paired with other words to determine context. Where for location, when for time, who, for a specific person. All which had a matching answer who paired with personal pronouns or names what with that where with here or there (here for right next to a person) there paired with a pointing gesture or some other context.

The humans surprised them indicating that their language also utilized the pat and the present is and am indicating something in the now while others required prefixes or suffixes to indicate past. Their translating equipment was beginning to pick up short sentences now, and with excitement the humans accepted the strange technology.

The green eyed human most of all.

***

Lieutenant Vir marched aboard the ship with the strange alien translation device clipped to his right ear. He was going to speak with an alien today, he was determined. Not just a sentence, he was going to get an answer to a question.

The first alien he saw had been there every day, a simple soldier, nothing more, but Lieutenant Vir walked right up to him. The creature watched in tense worry and confusion, “What is your name?”

Seconds passed.

“Gurt.”

***

It took weeks to understand the question why and even longer to explain abstract concepts. They had been there for months.

But the day came. They sat across the tale from each other Captain Kelly sitting next to her linguist and her soldiers.

“Why are you here?” The alien asked in its stilted and halting voice. It almost sounded like a bird or a parrot talking. It could have spoken through the translator, like some of the others did, but like the linguist it insisted.

“We come in peace.” Came the reply…. A reply that humans had thought up for thousands of years, in every science fiction novel and television show. An intergalactic hand of peace extending across space and time. “We want to know….. To understand.”

“You want knowledge.”

“We wanted to know that we are not alone, and now we want to be…. Friends/allies.”

“You…. Are danger.”

“Why?”

The alien paused for a long moment rubbing its head…. A gesture it had picked up from the humans, “You run quickly, jump high, sharp teeth. You want….. Eat us?”

“Predator?” The word was passed around explained and translated in the next thirty minutes.

The humans looked appalled, “No!”

“You ran and chased, following at first….. You make fear for us.

The humans convened for a long moment glowering at the green eyed creature who seemed shocked for a second butting in to the conversation, “No. I did not want to eat. I wanted…. Uh…. Allies…. I was….. Pleased.”

The translation was broken, the meaning algorithms struggling to piece together understanding form one separate mode of communication to another.

The entire room shifted in confusion and surprise. How could this be?

The predators had crossed the galaxy searching. They sought friendship in the stars despite their barbaric nature and their powerful, predatory instincts. What drove them was not hunger, or even knowledge.

Alone in the universe they sought proof…. Proof they were not alone.

[merel-puppy-bechtold]

Interview with Merel Bechtold

Interview with Merel Bechtold by Mandy Jacobs for the MaYaN Newsletter

She is maybe small in size but there is no way you can miss her! Merel Bechtold has rocked the stage with her guitar on many MaYaN and Delain shows. She is not afraid to make funny faces on stage, she even loves these pictures and with her positive energy makes everyone smile.

What can I say, we just love the small girl with a big personality!

Hey Merel. We will start when you are ready.

Merel: Yoooo I get a glass of water and then I'm ready.

I have fruit fusion water (no additions or calories but still the flavor).

Merel: Chill!! Ready

How are you doing?

Merel: I'm great, thank you! How are you? :)

It's your interview sweetheart ;) I'm happy as always! When did you start playing the guitar?

Merel: I started playing the guitar when I was 14/15 years old.

That's not so long before you stated to play professional, it's it?

Merel: Ehm well what's professional? Haha! I think the first time I played with a known band was in 2013 with Delain.

Hahaha I think you have a real talent. Did you take a lot of lessons? Merel: Oh well, thank you. I had lessons for 1,5 years from a local guitar teacher and his name was Jurgen. I believe he was a really good teacher. Also a fun fact is that Roel (bass) graduated with him from the Conservatory. After that I had lessons of Menno Gootjes (Focus) on the Rockacademy.

What is your favorite guitar?

Merel: My favorite guitar is the white vanderMeij guitar. Its my first custom and it sounds and looks amazing, so its hard to beat. Though I'm loving and exploring my new guitar right now. Its a black 6 string vanderMeij guitar. Very shiny and beautiful! And the maple neck sounds amazing :)

You said something about the Rockacademy did you study there as a full time student?

Merel: Yes I did unfortunately. Don't really want to dive into that haha. But Menno is great though! Love him.

That's okay :) Do you also play other instruments?

Merel: I used to play the piano when I was 6 till 12, but I wasn't great and never really got into that. I guess it was not my cup of tea. Though it helps me with understanding music theory. I still really would like to learn drumming and singing.

So actually the answer is no, I don't play any other instruments.

Hahaha that is a very good answer! You also play guitar in Purest of pain and I saw you are even starting a new band called Dear Mother, how do you combine that with MaYaN?

Merel: That's correct. MaYaN is a band that's easily to combine since we don't play all the time. Though in the past it was harder when I was still with Delain. Also I don't see any troubles combining MaYaN with Dear Mother :)

You quit Delain isn't it?

Merel: Yes

Can I ask you why you quit?

Merel: Of course! I wasn't following my heart anymore and I was very limited in my abilities and stopped growing as a guitarist and musician. So I felt trapped and needed to start thinking about what I want to do. I had a great time with Delain, learned many things and I'm super grateful for that. Also I made friends for life and have memories that nobody can take away from me. Dear Mother is a band that I have dreamed of for a few years now. It's basically my great escape. Creating new music gives me such a great feeling and I'm learning so many new things. Its fantastic. Also playing with MaYaN is challenging, exciting, great musicians, a lovely family and great fans. I can't ask for more.

When can we expect more information about Dear Mother?

Merel: This year :)

Great! You are a very busy lady and now you're also on Patreon! Can you tell me what that is?

Merel: It's something that I wanted to do for a while and now I'm free to do so. I'm creating weekly vlogs. In these vlogs I'm filming my musical journey. Every week is different, so every video is unique. It could be that I'm on tour with the MaYaN family, writing new music, recording or something else. It's a lot of fun! In the last video I show everybody how I started creating a new riff. And in the next video I turned that idea into a track and sharing the process of that is very cool instead of only being able to enjoy the end result like seeing a show or listening to an album. Now you are able to follow the whole process and the struggles along the way. Also I'm doing a monthly live session in our private Patreon group and all Patrons can share their questions or do suggestions for me to feature in the next video. It's very interactive and the response on the vlogs is great so far! I'm sharing these moments and previews. And the Patrons can comment on the videos and ask my questions or suggestions for me to feature in the next vlog. So it's very interactive and a lot of fun! You can find more about my Patreon under:

http://www.patreon.com/join/merelbechtold

Can you tell me a funny story about something that happed with MaYaN?

Merel: Oh boy. There are many fun moments. And some bad events can be funny afterwards. But I guess that every tour story is fun right? So Mark tries to make me feel awkward, with success. In a very playful way though. It's his thing you know. So during one of the last shows he licked my face from my chin up to the top of my face, whilst I was playing. So that happened. It was very impulsive, wet and hilarious. I don't want to inspire others with this story though!! haha

Did you get your revenge?

Merel: I always get my revenge :)  And so the game continues...

What are your hobbies besides music?

Merel: I find this a hard question to answer, because there are many things that I like, but I wouldn't call any of them my hobby. I love to travel, explore national parks, hiking, street food, cooking, climbing, crossfit. Other than that I love everything that gives me a thrill. I used to be massively good on a snowboard, so there is definitely this passion for all kind of extreme sports. Also I love my motorcycle.

I saw a lot of motorcycle photos, when did you start riding a motor?

Merel: Since I was six years old I wanted to do motorcross, but it didn't happen. Last summer I got my drivers license and bought a super sexy motorbike. I'm fascinated by the caferacer style and especially scramblers. At some point I really would love to build my own.

Do you also go on holidays on your motorbike?

Merel: Not yet. I don't have biker friends. So hopefully I will find the right people for that purpose at some point.

What does your prefect vacation look like?

Merel: Roadtrip!! I love to travel in a duo, discover new places, national parks, skip cities, no western tourists. A balance of relaxing, activities, eating and traveling.

Are you rather active or lazy?

Merel: I guess I am good at both. I rather be active, but it doesn't always work out haha.

What is the craziest thing you have ever done?

Merel: Oefff. I always do crazy things and up in crazy situations. But there is one thing that stands out. And that is peeing out of a window of a car on the German motorway. Bare in mind that on most parts there is no speed limit. The full story is that I needed to pee really badly. And I mean really really bad. But the sound guy which was also the driver (Delain), only wanted to stop at a gas station. In Germany it means that a gas station can take up 100 km til the next one. I really couldn't hold it... So I crawled in the front, opened a window and sticked my butt out of the window and peed. Thanks to the wind it was still hurting the next day haha.

There are not many female musicians in the metal world, why do you think that is?

Merel: Maybe it's because there are not that many role models. But for me music it's not about gender. And I really don't care if it's a guy or a girl behind an instrument. To be honest I don't understand the fascination of it. For me it's never about gender. It's about playing together, creating something to be proud of and expressing yourself. It even annoys me if somebody says 'you play guitar very well for a girl'. It's such a strange thing to hear.

You just play the guitar very well. You fit pretty good in the male dominated Metal world, do you have any advice for the female musicians?

Merel: Haha thank you :) Personally I actually don't see it that way. Like a 'male dominated metal world'. For me music and especially metal is a way to express myself and to feel home. Playing in a band is like being with a family and expressing yourself together. And sharing your dreams with other great people within the band or out in the crowd. So my only advice for being a female musician is to just express yourself and enjoy creating and playing music.

Well spoken! Is there anything else you want to tell the readers?

Merel: Yes! Thank you for being on the MaYaN newsletter, it means a lot to all of us. I really hope to see you around at a show at some point. Thank you!!

[iwbfinterviews]

Jake Brown Interview

When did you first realize you wanted to be a writer? Is there a particular reason you chose to write about music, singers, etc?

I didn’t actually, lol.  I’m a songwriter/producer first, I grew up playing and writing music but always wrote as a way to kind of get through school because I was terrible at math, sciences, tests, etc.  I think there’s alot of people in the music business who started out like that.  It kind of happened accidentally, I was working for a record label right out of college and started writing copy for their catalog titles, press releases, etc and it just expanded from there.   I met a literary agent through that who suggested I try to write a book, and we sold the Suge Knight memoir to Amber Books, who gave me my start.  Another big early foot in the door moment was when I had the opportunity to write books with Ann and Nancy Wilson & Heart in 2007 and in 2009 with Lemmy Kilmister and Motorhead.  Then the book nearly 10 years into my career that really kind of made me appreciate this career was the opportunity to work with legendary guitar player Joe Satriani on Strange Beautiful Music: A Musical Memoir.  I’d also started specializing in anthology-style books that feature LOTS of exclusive interviews in one book in chapter profiles so you could tell a bunch of people’s live stories at once, including the BEHIND THE BOARDS series, which began 10 years ago as a Rock & Roll producers’ series, the aforementioned In the Studio series with Heart, Motorhead, and others, and then finally about 10 years into living in Nashville I began working on the NASHVILLE SONGWRITER book series and most recently the BEHIND THE BOARDS: NASHVILLE book.  SO: the long answer to that question is, because I love telling the behind-the-scenes stories of both the hits and those who make them, be it songwriters or producers or drummers in the case of the BEYOND THE BEATS rock drummers series, or Hip Hop producers with the DOCTORS OF RHYTHM audiobook and upcoming physical version in 2021.  I’ve also been fortunate to write memoirs with some interesting characters like Kenny Aronoff, country rapper Big Smo and upcoming Freddy Powers The Spree of ’83 book which features Merle Haggard and Willie Nelson.  So it's been an interesting run.

How long does it take you to write a book?

I work on several at once usually, that’s kind of my process, half day on one, a day on another, but for BEHIND THE BOARDS: NASHVILLE, I spent 4 straight months day in and out writing this book exclusively as it was over 600 pages.  I was reading the audiobook for Blackstone as I was writing it too, which was the first time I’ve ever done that.  Usually the audiobook is read after the book is completed.  Then it’s about a month of editing before its handed into the publisher.  So this was a real push, but it was worth it because of the feedback I’m getting first from the producers I worked quite extensively in many cases with on their individual chapters, and collectively in the book being a first of its kind for country music fans where they can read about how their favorite hits by country’s biggest stars were made while listening along on Spotify, iTunes, Tidal, etc.

What would you say is your interesting writing quirk?

Oh, I don’t know... I write every book thinking from the outset before I’ve even started putting words down to paper thinking about how that book will be marketed and promoted upon release.  There’s no point in writing something no one is going to read because when you get to the finish line you don’t have a gameplan on how to make readers aware of it.  Publishers, to be honest, can only do so much in that arena, every publisher’s publicist is usually like a social worker with 30 cases on their desk, so yours can only get so much attention.  So for instance, I always recommend to a writer to hire a great publicist and know that while that’s a considerable expense, it may be the best money you spend in getting the word out about your book because that publicist is working for YOU, not for 30 authors at once.  It's just a fact of the business that I think should get more light shed on it because you’re competing with that number I  mentioned above of 60,000+ books a YEAR coming out.  I also negotiate the right to press my own promo runs of 100 if needed because if not, you’ll wind up with a paltry 10 copies from the publisher, who for their own budgetary reasons, might not for instance be able to service all the physical review copies you’ll have to give away during the book’s promotion, whether to a disc jockey interviewing you on the air or the listener he or she is giving away a free copy to during that broadcast, as just one example.  If you don’t plan ahead for that, you’ll wind up paying that publisher $6 or $7 per promotional copy, which is something I’m SURE some of my own publishers would hate for me to pull the curtain back on, but its true.  Writers are paid LAST usually in the royalty chain, especially early on, but you move up in that order as you build a value into your name as a writer, which only comes with people hearing about you and your book.  So again, HIRE A PUBLICIST, HIRE A PUBLICIST, HIRE A PUBLICIST!  Your agent can be helpful too, but its typically up to you as an author to maintain your own social media presence and look for every available avenue to spread the word about your book so it has a chance to be read.  This is equally important for newer or more established writers, because there’s always a new generation of equally-as-talented new wordsmiths knocking on those publishers’ same doors... 

What do you like to do when you're not writing?

In a studio making music or writing books for the various publishers I work for, or recording audiobooks for Blackstone Audio, so it’s pretty time-consuming.  I did just sign a worldwide music publishing deal for my songwriting catalog with Streets Music and David Gresham Company.  So I’m lucky to stay busy, to be honest, you have to too make a living in the entertainment business.  I have a wife and a dog too, so I spend what time I have left with them. ☺ 

Your 50th book is coming out June 23rd, “Behind The Boards: Nashville”. Can you give us insight on what it will be about? 

First, I exhale deeply every time I get asked that because it's finally DONE!  I spent 2 years collecting extensive, first-hand – many for the first time in a book – interviews with 30 of country music’s biggest producers, and in some cases, that meant waiting for a break in their busy studio schedules to talk, in others it meant multiple conversations over a couple years as we wanted to make sure we had all their current hits as they kept banging them out, and in other cases, because of the sheer volume of their catalog – some of these guys have been in the business since the early 70s – it took that long to chronicle it all.  That’s just the interview process too, then I had to write it and I write everything in one shot vs. a chapter here and there.  Its to me like staying in character as an actor throughout an entire performance, and when you’re writing a book like this, you’re in a headspace that never lets you sleep because creative narrative is CONSTANTLY hitting you about specific hits, and there’s over 300 # 1s in this book.  Additionally, there’s an EXHAUSTIVE amount of research I do to source out certain critical quotes of praise, for instance, from way back in the 80s, 90s, early 00s, etc from magazines that aren’t even in print anymore, as well as supporting quotes from the actual superstars these producers work with in the studio, which also takes a great deal of time.  So after all of that prep, once you begin writing, there’s another 3-4 months before the manuscript comes to life as a finished product.

As a result of that, country music fans here are given arguably the MOST definitive to date book chronicling the stories behind the making of their favorite hits in the studio, again how those artists specifically and uniquely work at their craft – i.e. does George Strait sing each hit over 3 or 4 vocals or 25 or 30 takes, etc – as well as how specific # 1s within those individual catalogs of Greatest Hits were created in the studio.  Then from the other side of the boards, so to speak, you get the producer’s first-hand recollections of their own personal journeys from the time they could first crawl and walk and started discovering music to their teenage bands and first tape-recorder or 2-inch reel to reel or 4-track or laptop home recording sessions all the way up through their rise to become the biggest names in the business working in country music today.  

Collectively, BEHIND THE BOARDS: NASHVILLE features Dann Huff, James Stroud, Jim Ed Norman, Dave Cobb, Justin Neibank, Ross Copperman, Zach Crowell, Chris Destefano, Jesse Frasure, Norbert Putnam, Josh Osborne, Luke Laird, Clint Black, Frank Liddell, Shane McAnally, Jimmy Robbins, Josh Leo, Nathan Chapman, Paul Worley, Jeff Stevens, Jody Stevens, Bobby Braddock, Michael Knox, Don Cook, Frank Rogers, Joey Moi, Ray Baker, and Buddy Cannon, who did the Foreword, which was a TRUE honor.  Frankly, it was an honor to have every one of these legends speak to fans so candidly and openly about both their personal and professional lives in the music business.  Their stories are inspiring, ear-and-eye-opening, exciting, insightful, and hopefully educational for those kids growing up on their records now hoping to break into the same business.  So hopefully, there’s something for everyone who opens the book.

What were the methods you used to get ‘the’ interview with all the big names you’ve written about?

When you’ve been around this long, fortunately you can get in touch with just about anybody, whether they say yes or not to the interview is another story! (laughs)  But I’ve been pretty lucky, especially for instance with my NASHVILLE SONGWRITER book series, which has TWO volumes and 50 of the biggest songwriters in country music in the first two volumes, and a THIRD volume with another 30 legendary songwriters coming out at the end of 2021, and especially with BEHIND THE BOARDS: NASHVILLE, which has 30 of the most legendary record producers in country over the past 50 years, guys like Norbert Putnam, who ran Quad and produced Jimmy Buffet’s “Margaritaville,” Jim Ed Norman, who produced Hank Williams Jr’s Born to Boogie album, Ray Baker, who produced that whole 70s Honkytonk soundtrack including Moe Bandy, Whitey Shafer, and Merle Haggard and Freddy Powers among others.  Then you have the Millennial generation’s biggest names like Joey Moi, Dave Cobb, Dann Huff, Jesse Frasure, Ross Copperman, Shane McAnally and Josh Osborne, Ray Riddle, and on and on.  

What do you think makes a good story?

Well, for this book, the most common thread woven throughout many of the chapters/live stories of these producers were the long-term working relationships they’ve  maintained with many of country music’s biggest stars throughout their entire careers or the majority, for instance, Jeff Stevens and Luke Bryan, Byron Gallimore and Tim McGraw, Buddy Cannon and Kenny Chesney, Michael Knox and Tony Brown, Frank Rogers and Brad Paisley, Miranda Lambert and Frank Liddell, the list goes on and on as long as the Greatest Hits track listings do.  Equally as importantly for a book like this, is the fact it takes the reader quite literally inside the studio and pulls back the curtain on how their favorite country music stars record their biggest hits, and almost literally re-creates their recording from behind the boards by the producers interviewed.  Then on a totally separate front, from the academic side, its a 600-page book full of tips about how the recording process works from all sides, points of views, approaches, ages, and technologies, old and new, from analog to digital and the hybrid of both in the “in the box” generation of record making.  Hopefully, we’ve covered all sides of the process, that was the aim anyway so readers get a 3-D look, so to speak, at how the recording business really works.  

How did publishing your first book change your process of writing?

I sold my first book to my first publisher, Amber Books, in 2001 and Tony Rose gave me my start in the business and I wrote for them almost exclusively for the first 5 years and 10 books of my career from 2002 to 2007.  So having a stable and still exciting publisher willing to take chances on you and equally-as-importantly, the kinds of books you might approach them with, is KEY for any new writer because writers must remember EVERY time a publisher takes a chance on their book, they’re putting real money behind it before they ever see a dime back.  It's a big leap of faith, and carries with it alot of obligations for the author, where it doesn’t just end with handing the book in, but also helping promote it and building a brand for your name so it can become more and more reliable for both readers and new publishers, as any writer’s goal should be to eventually build a catalog where they write for as many publishers as possible throughout their career.  But be prepared to start out writing for one, or anyone for that matter, who you can verify has a good track record as a publisher, or if they’re new to the game, doesn’t just want to put out an e-book, which anyone can do without a publisher, and is willing to commit to a physical pressing, and promotion of that pressing.  I wouldn’t go looking for advances on your first or even necessarily second book out, but start asking for them as soon as possible as its an important piece of the income stream for any working author, as much as royalties are later on down the road.  An advance lets an author know a publisher first can afford to put money into their book, and values them, vs. Alot of these starter deals that promise big back-end but nothing up front.  You have to be able to afford to take that hit once or twice out of the gate, but its not a career model any writer should plan on if they want to make a living as a working author.  The other reason I mention all this is because being a working writer is not just about the creative side of the process, but the entrepreneurial one too, because you have to be a self-promoter, and not be shy to doing interviews or promotion on social media, etc, as you’re competing with a THOUSAND new titles a week minimum these days between all the digital e-books and print books out there. I think the statistic was to be something like 60,000 books published in 2018 alone, so that tells you the competition you’re up against to even get a book sold to a publisher, let alone compete on bookstore shelves for the reader dollar.

What’s your favorite under-appreciated novel?

Of my own books, I wouldn’t say any are underappreciated, I’m grateful for the fact that people still read my books after 20 years and 2 or 3 generations of teenagers (which are a primary part of my reading audience) still buy my stuff.  I try to give them consistently interesting reading subjects, either in the personalities I co-write with – like country rapper SMO, whose memoir My Life in a Jar: The Book of Smo, was released in 2019, or the Freddy Powers Spree of ’83 memoir, which is presently in film development and that I co-wrote a screenplay for with Catherine Powers last year, that was also something different, and say something like legendary R&B producer/artist Teddy Riley’s forthcoming memoir Remember the Times, which we’ve been working on for the past 6 years off and on and is looking like it might be heading to Teddy’s fans’ hands in the next year.  One key thing I tell new writers when asked for input into starting a career in the current climate for our business is be prepared to commit as much time to a book as the artist needs, its similar to an album – if the publisher wants it on a deadline, be prepare to deliver, but getting an artist to open up in depth about their life takes time, both to build trust and to physically take the time to do the interviews not only with them in principle but also with the huge list of supporting cast members between peers in the band and business and family members and friends, record executives, peers, etc that usually wind up on those lists.  It's a process you should NEVER RUSH yourself, only move at the rhythm of the people you work with and for, and you’ll wind up working alot longer in the business than those who are in a hurry.  

How many unpublished and half-finished books do you have?

Haha, I actually have a folder called “Projects That Probably Won’t Happen” and its filled with all kinds of “famous” bands/musicians books that just never got off the ground for one reason or another, but they’re all under contractual deals where I can’t talk about them in case they want to put a book out in the future, and I hope they all do.  Sometimes you encounter someone who is thinking about writing a book but is really 10 years before they’re ready to, or they aren’t really committed yet past the concept, so you do some sample chapter interviews but it never gets past that starting line.  I’ve thankfully left on good terms with the majority of those names, but with 50 published books in my catalog, most of what I have committed my time to has thankfully made it to store shelves.  That’s important for any new writer to remember, because with every new book project you take on, you’re committing a year to two years of their life to that process from the start of interviews through the completion, handing it into the publisher, editing, etc.  Anyone in a rush usually isn’t going to get anywhere is what I’ve found, it takes time, even if your mind is moving a million miles a minute, and your ambition even faster, pace yourself and you’ll last a lot longer in the race I’ve found anyway (cheesy sports metaphor aside ☺).  

Do you read your book reviews? How do you deal with bad or good ones?

Haha, I’ve had some good and bad experiences there over the years.  I have NO problem with a consumer buying my book and then reviewing it one way or the other on say Amazon or Audible, etc, because that’s part of the business, but as far as book reviews from other writers, I just have to hope they like it and write fairly about it as it does matter impressionistically what readers then think of it as a potential product to buy and read themselves.  Sometimes, in walking the fine line I have to be between the technical and the creative in a series like this or Nashville Songwriter or say my In the Studio series, which has over 10 books in it alone, so you never know.  Its something I don’t pay alot of attention to as well because by the time a review comes out, the book has been out a couple months usually and we’re on the back-end of a promotional push, so if its a good review, it's a nice 4th quarter boost of coverage, and if it's not, then it's pretty buried vs. hurting the book’s launch on the front end.  I’m just being honest, sorry, but book reviews play a very MINIMAL role in most books’ launches if they’re properly promoted via author interviews, premier placements as we’ve done with American Songwriter, CMT, SoundsLikeNashville.com and others coming up, and for any newer writer, accept ahead of time that you’re GOING to get a bad review here or there, it's just part of the subjective review process, and doesn’t speak for your larger reading audience.  

Do you believe in writer’s block?

Not when you write for a living.  It's not a luxury I think any of the writers I know who work professionally writing books can afford, that’s why you have to follow the simple rule of A.B.W. (Always Be Writing) ☺.

Where do you see yourself in 5 years?

Probably doing the same thing, writing is how I make a living, so it's will be with me until arthiritis set’s in, but I’ve got 2 screenplays in development and hope to have at had at least one of them produced into a film.  I’m not unrealistic to think that it will go to theatres, but I’d be happy to see a streaming service selection with my name on it as a screenwriter, there’s 3 or 4 of my books fortunately in that cycle right now so we’ll hope one or two of them make it that far.  Beyond that, I’m in the studio every week as I have been the past 20 years making music and will continue doing that, hopefully to a greater degree with these new publishing deals I’ve signed as I have over 200 released songs in my own catalog, none in Country lol, but I just try to keep putting out new creative product across multiple mediums at as prolific a pace as the muse allows without the quality of the end-product being compromised.  That’s the point at which I’d stop I guess, if the quality of the writing lessens to where people don’t want to read my stuff anymore.  Thankfully, I have built up a pretty loyal reading and retail-buying audience over the past 2 decades, and hope to keep putting out books that help music listeners understand how hard and still rewarding a business the record business is.  It's an amazing world to wake up working in every day, and I love helping musicians tell their stories on paper, so we’ll just have to see.  I hope to have hit 60 books by then, although my ultimate goal is another 50 over the next 10 years! (laughs)  Thanks again for your time and support of this latest project!    

[aelaer]

300

Tumblr’s algorithm picked up my last whumptober post and that unexpectedly rocketed me up to over 300 followers (welcome new folks, I haven’t had a chance to even look at y’all yet). But really it’s quite flattering. (I think at least 10% of them are pornbots, but beggars can’t be choosers.)

So I guess in uh, celebration/woohoo, I’m just gonna post snippets from my WIPs (outside of the whumptober ones as those are coming out in the next couple days) which… well, it’s something. :3 Yes it all has to do with Stephen, I’m going one-trick-pony mode right now and it’s a friggin blast.

This is long and has WIPs of art too, so cut cut cut bellllooww.

The farking Doctor Strange/Sherlock crossover that’s been at 80% complete since July and still has no title

However, before Sherlock got caught up into the cloak once again, he forced his eyes to the man’s hands. A lot could be discovered by someone’s hands.

And what hands they were. His eyes involuntarily widened at the sight of the ragged, and in some places hypertrophic scars on the back side of each finger. He quickly looked to the other hand; they were there, too. Clearly they were crushed in some sort of accident, but an accident that left him upright and without any hint of a limp. It was possible that they were caught in some sort of machinery, but both at the same time? Statistically speaking, a car accident was more likely. A car accident that damaged the bonnet of the car and crushed his fingers between the steering wheel and the dashboard, more than likely leaving permanent nerve damage. Unfortunate.

The age of the scars showed that they were healed over, but their nature made it difficult to determine how long ago they were received. With the overall lack of fading, however, it was likely that the damage occurred within the last few years. He could not see his palms and determine anything from there, but the callus upon his right middle finger determined which hand he wrote with. Or once wrote with, at any rate. His hands could certainly be worthy of further study, if only to attempt to determine their surgical history.

Upon his left wrist was, of all things, a wristwatch. He narrowed his eyes. It was a Jaeger-LeCoultre and it was not a counterfeit by any means, but it was not a model he recognized. It looked very similar to the Master Ultra Thin Moon only just released; was this an early prototype for a new model? Even as the question fluttered through his mind, he immediately chastised himself for his stupidity. There was clear wear on the band that spoke of it being worn for years, never mind the cracked face. 

Custom-made, he eventually concluded, though even that answer did not quite sit right with him. Regardless, it spoke of a man who had wealth— or used to, in any case. The wear and damage on the watch told a new picture now, but he seemed to still be connected to some form of influence. His clothing was of a very rich quality, and that was not including the unique cloak. Perhaps he was now connected with someone in the Greater Tibetan area, or someone of wealth in the Indian subcontinent. Or from there, at any rate. 

He let his eyes go up the length of the man’s sleeves. Cloth bands decorated the forearms of his otherwise seemingly-plain shirt, likely made of wool and hemp. He indulged himself and studied the embroidery on the edge of the cloak again. He received no further information concerning its origin and make beyond what he had already determined, but there was something about it that was absolutely enchanting.

But enough lingering; he finally turned his body to lay on his side and brought his eyes up to meet the bearer of this very odd ensemble of attire.

And he saw himself.

Within the Shadows (villain!AU) sequel that finalllyyy has a title, Inhibited Lodgings (I think this one is about at 85%! So soooonnnn)

When one of the nurses came in with dinner, Stephen hardly acknowledged him. The nurse set the tray on the overbed table and, after a quick, “Eat while it’s hot!” left the room.

Stephen ignored it. He continued his obsessive perusal of the tablet, shaky fingers managing to steady enough to click link after link after link.

Stark came in an hour later and the tray was still untouched. He quirked his brows up. “Y'know Doc, if you don’t eat, Doctor Cho is going to be very stern with you and you’ll feel terrible after that.”

He raised his head from the tablet at the sound of Stark’s voice, blinking. “What?” He then looked at the tray of food. “Oh… right. I forgot that was brought in.” He looked at the now stone-cold chicken and broccoli with a small grimace.

“I’ll have them make you another plate. Send that info up, FRI.” Stark sunk into one of the chairs beside the bed. “What has you so distracted, anyway?”

Stephen turned the tablet around to show him his screen, which had a list of all the Billboard Hot 100 and Billboard 200 for all genres in 2011. “I only considered yesterday that there might be differences in music between my reality and this one. A check to see if my favorite artists existed here turned into something of a full day project.”

Stark was clearly interested. “No kidding. Did you find any differences?”

“Dozens. In some ways it’s amazing that it’s only that many across hundreds of artists and songs, but I cannot imagine not having Rocky’s training montage paired with ‘Eye of the Tiger.’ ”

“I know I’ve seen a couple of those films, but I couldn’t tell you the name of any training song off the top of my head,” he said. “But I’d probably remember a song with that name.”

He nodded. “Exactly! I can live without the 'Macarena’ and 'Kung Fu Fighting’, but that song made that sequence legendary.”

Stark’s lips twitched in amusement. “I’ll take your word for it. Anything particularly good from your reality that you found missing?”

“I’m still debating if losing all of Journey’s discography is worth never having to hear 'Don’t Stop Believing’ again.”

Time Travel Pseudo!villain Stephen aka Freakin Carmen Sandiego (yes, this is gonna happen. But it’s not happening until those two above are completed, and it’ll be written concurrently with the rest of the villain!Stephen series, as I suspect it will be on the longer side. The outline’s 4 pages long…)

He walked over and crossed his arms as Bruce replayed the video; it was definitely a better quality than the pixelated mess of everything else he’d seen so far. Even with the high-definition, though, the man’s fully-black outfit made him difficult to see against the night sky, and his face was completely covered by what looked like both a mask and hood. He’d be all-but-invisible without the glowing lights all around him. A gasp suddenly ran through the crowd, and the camera swiveled to look at the Palace of Westminster, now bereft of the tower. A few shouts then broke through, and the camera footage swung back to the night sky, but the man was gone.

“Where’d he go?” Tony asked as he leaned over Bruce and pressed both the replay and mute button.

“Uh, according to witnesses, after Elizabeth Tower vanished, he darted under the bridge— probably at the end with the screaming there— and disappeared.”

“I thought that was Big Ben,” he muttered, pressing replay again.

Bruce shook his head. “No, Big Ben’s the bell in Elizabeth Tower. I knew someone in college— British— who got rather annoyed over that misnomer. Really annoyed, actually.” He made a face to himself.

Tony, however, was busy squinting at a bit of the footage he had paused. “Does it look like he has a sort of— something— on his chest?”

The physicist leaned in and squinted alongside him. “Yeah. I’d say it almost looks like one of your arc reactors, but I don’t think your arc reactors do this.”

“But it could still be a power source,” Tony answered. 

“Definitely,” Bruce answered. “It looks almost like he’s pulling from it.”

“That makes no sense, but a lot of this alien tech is nothing like anything that exists on Earth right now. I’d be interested in figuring out how it works.”

Bruce continued to peer at it. “So would I,” he said. “If you can keep it from S.H.I.E.L.D long enough to do so.”

Tony makes a face. “They have the scepter to play with. They can have it when I’m done.”

“You’re going to have to catch him first,” he pointed out.

“Pshh, after Loki, this’ll be easy-peasy. We’ll have him caught within two days.”

ARTS (just the two Stephens for now)

I didn’t have time last weekend to work on digital Stephen, but he’s still a lot farther ahead than when I last posted here sooooooo. (I won’t have time this weekend either, so… he’ll come sooner or later).

Annddd I figured out what my ugly yellow corner square is gonna be. I’m doing fan art for a fan fic like a real nerd. Bringing out the prismacolors again. Right now I’m still in the ‘messing around with line art’ phase. I plan to do this while I’m at tabletop gaming on Sundays.

And that’s that for WIPs. Now I need to go work on ficlets.

[the-muses-are-herd]

A Coda to a private thread I have been playing, under the cut. 

(NOTE: You are all welcome to read it if you want, but it’s likely not going to make much sense out of context. It also involves one of my main Muses and one I don’t think I have played in public threads yet)

***

Light, darkness. Light, darkness. But this time Xolotl wasn’t trying to get ‘anywhere away from here’. This time it was a journey back. He was feeling so many things —he was eager to see his friend again, he was anxious (but no longer scared!) of the place he was coming back to, he was — at his destination!!

Yes… Tokyo again. The one specific Tokyo. Even before his feet touched the ground, he was back in his old green business suit and goggles… but this time without the ‘Security’ arm band. He was done with that damned Guild. And after what happened to Aizen, they were probably out for his blood anyway. It was strange to notice that the thought did not bring with it any particular apprehension. Just another thing to be careful about. 

Finding the old apartment was not difficult. And he knocked on the door before he could chicken out. Of course, his friend may not live here anymore. Well, the door was swinging open… 

… and here he was. Here was HombreTigre, in his casual clothes! Still as cheerful as always. 

Tigre looked at him for about a second —to stunned to speak. Then he broke into a huge grin even as he pulled Xolotl into a bear hug, strong enough to lift him. “Xolo!!!” 

Every time they had done this, Xolotl usually got red in the face, even if he grinned inwards. He usually tried to pull away when Tigre would next try to kiss his cheek. This time he did the exact opposite: He turned his head at the right moment and kissed Tigre on the mouth. Just a peck. 

Tigre let him down —surprised, yet still happy. “Since when do you —oh, man! Come inside, come! I have so many questions…”

Xolotl grinned, only now showing him two boxes he was carrying. Sealed with the best kind of magic —no one would have guessed what they were carrying. “And I have a lot of stories to tell you! Gosh, where to begin…” 

Would Tigre accept? Even this, Xolotl discovered, no longer filled him with dread. He would respect whatever his friend chose.

Because now he had a place to return to, a real home. That made all the difference in the world. 

***

“Check this out!” said Jagwar, tossing something small so fast most people would have completely missed it. 

Dreadmon was not ‘most people’ —he snatched it out of thin air with hardly any effort. It was still a surprising thing to behold: A large berry with yellow spots. “What’s this?” 

“I don’t know!” said Jagwar —he seemed to be equal parts puzzled and merry. “I have been getting these… I suppose they are gifts. Every time I visit that place I told you about.” 

“You have a secret admirer.” Dreadmon tried to look serious, but could only grin. “Should I be jealous?”

Jagwar shook his head no. “Whoever has been leaving these things must be pretty shy. But who knows, maybe someday I’ll meet them. That should be an interesting experience, for sure!”

*

[katrou1894-blog]

Frozen 2 Movie Review (No Spoilers Until Partly Through)

*All rights to this photo belong to Walt Disney Studios Hi Everyone!

Welcome back to Katie’s Messy Little Blog! I want to do something different (again) for this blog post. A movie review!

I, like many others, flocked to the movie theater the weekend before Thanksgiving to see the greatly anticipated Frozen II. (Sorry it took me so long to get this review out btw. The end of November and beginning of December has been super busy! 😅 )

[FYI the first half of this blog will be spoiler-free, so it is safe to read the first half of my blog if you haven’t seen the movie yet and you don’t want spoilers. It will be super obvious when we hit the spoiler part of the blog 😉]

I’m going to start by sharing, I LOVED this movie! I think it is one of the best films that Disney has produced this decade! (Not quite the best because I actually think that spot belongs to Coco, but this would be a close second!) Although Frozen II is a sequel, it really didn’t feel like one to me. Frozen II, of course, has the same cast of characters (with a couple of great additions like Lieutenant Mattias and Bruni), but this film also had almost an entirely different feel to it than its predecessor. Everything from the high fantasy elements of the film to the (at least in my opinion) much more mature soundtrack felt very different, but “good different.”

Frozen II also did an excellent job of tying the two films together. There are quite a few specific call back to the first film, both serious and humorous, which makes the jump from the first to the second film much smoother than it might have been without these specific references. Plus the storyline of Frozen II really is just a continuation of the first film, full of plausible and likely next steps for each of the characters.

Other then plotline, I also really loved some deeper Nordic cultural references and influences that Frozen II includes, the absolutely gorgeous animation (seriously one of the visually prettiest movies I have ever seen!) and the incredible, heartfelt and meaningful music. I could go on about all of these topics for a bit, but I strongly encourage you to go out and see the film and see what I mean for yourself!

SPOILER WARNING!!!!

(If you read past this section and you haven’t seen the film yet it is your own fault that you got Frozen II spoilers 😉 You have been warned.) For those of you who have seen Frozen II or to those of you who don’t care about reading about spoilers, welcome to the spoiler section of this blog! I am going to start my spoiler section by sharing my only real complaint about the film.

Frozen II leaves some VERY IMPORTANT sections of the film unclear. They chose to vaguely tell/hint at major reveals, leaving (I believe) many moviegoers somewhat confused until they later explain what happened in the film. There are two key moments, in particular, in which this happens.

The first being when Elsa awakens the spirits of the forest. This supposedly occurs at the very end of Elsa’s song, “Into the Unknown,” when she reaches out to the phantom voice that has been calling to her and she conjures the weird floating, ice-diamond, element symbols throughout Arendelle. Although this scene was showcased in promotional materials for the film, I was still very confused by this moment until Elsa tells Anna a few minutes later (after the entire population of Arendelle is evacuated to the nearby cliffs) that she had summoned the spirits of the forest (okay…). Admittedly, upon the second viewing of this film (Yes, I have seen it twice already. Judge all you want, I am content with my life choices. 😂) this series of events made much more sense because through the course of “Into the Unknown” Elsa actually dances/interacts with each of the elemental spirits which (at best) hints at Elsa potentially awakening the spirits. (I guess…) I think this really didn’t make sense the first time around because the film hadn’t yet explained what the water horse, hopping flame, the rock giants and the gust of wind were (it had only implied). So (I believe) between the overall vagueness of the scene and the lack of prior explanation of what the spirits are that’s why at least I was (perhaps many others were too) scratching my head at this point.

The other key moment that was unclear was when Elsa discovers that she is the fifth spirit. This occurs during Elsa’s other show stopper tune, “Show Yourself.” I really just don’t think this scene is very clear because one moment Elsa is in the large ice room surrounded by images of her memories, then she is singing with one of her mother’s images. (Who turns out to be the voice calling her?? Also unclear about this, however, the actress who voices Queen Iduna for Frozen II, Evan Rachel Wood, is credited for singing this song so I guess so??) Then suddenly the elemental shape appears (which not so discreetly is in the shape of a snowflake (We all see what you did there Disney)), Elsa steps into the center of this shape, and then she gets, yet another, dramatic makeover while she is singing an epic song. Don’t get me wrong, this is a stunning sequence and a super cool moment, but other then the makeover, a giddy face by Elsa, and a glowing snowflake, but there is no direct explanation on what is happening in this scene until about 20 minutes later when Elsa explains it to Anna. When I first saw this scene I guessed that they were trying to imply that Elsa is the fifth spirit, but it just wasn’t clear.

Now, in defense of this scene, I really am not sure how they could have made it more clear other than maybe Elsa saying to herself, “Of course, it was me all along!” However, I understand why the filmmakers may not have wanted to do this since it would seem quite narcissistic if Elsa had stated this, especially at this exact moment. Nonetheless, this scene did lose some of its power because of the lack of clarity.

I will also say that the overall spirit plotline/origin story is very vague and it leaves me with quite a few questions, specifically about the spirits. I am willing to, for the most part, overlook most of this vagueness because I did overall enjoy the film that much and I think that Disney is really striving for a different kind of storyline with this film because of the spirits and high fantasy elements. [However, if Disney actually answers my questions about the spirits (especially more on why Elsa is a spirit) I would not be opposed to a Frozen III. Assuming, of course, that they stay true to their commitment to high-quality storytelling. Seriously Disney, please don’t just make Frozen III for the money. If you do it well then you can both make great art and make a ton of money.]

Okay, now that I have shared my only real frustration with Frozen II, I want to get back to sharing about the film’s strengths.

The character development in this film is truly amazing! The majority of the film’s focus was, of course, on Elsa and Anna, but there was some really great character development for the beloved side characters in the Frozen gang. Both Olaf and Kristoff really grew in this film and took some maybe slightly unexpected, but interesting and crucial roles within the film.

Olaf in this film is “growing up” and “maturing” which leads him to ask a bunch of questions, to research, and to essentially become a walking and talking fun fact machine. Olaf represents children that have endless questions about the world and how everything works. I love that this is the direction that the filmmakers chose to progress Olaf’s character. Plus they use Olaf’s curiosity of life as an important vessel of key information that the film needs to explain in order for other parts of the film to make sense. This primarily being the concept that “water has memory” which Olaf shares with the group and keeps insisting on throughout the film. (And which he turns out to be right about, at least according to the film.)

[Also I really love Olaf’s silly line, “Samantha?” Towards the beginning of his song “When I Am Older.” It has been reported that Josh Gad, the actor who voices Olaf, did, in fact, improvise this line and the filmmakers loved it so much that it stayed in the film. However, I am burning with the question of Who is Samantha??? For now, I choose to believe that it must be the name of the promised, but not delivered upon, girlfriend of Olaf which was suggested during early discussions of the film who clearly was cut from the end result. ‍💁 ] Kristoff also has some truly incredible character development himself! Kristoff has always had an interesting role within the world of Frozen. He starts off as the brutish, but lovably dorky companion of Anna in her original search for her sister, then through the course of their journey he turns into the true love interest for Anna (leaving Hans already not looking super great before he reveals he is evil). Essentially, this is his entire arch for the first film. Naturally, Frozen II deals with Kristoff’s next character steps. It was absolutely no surprise to me that Kristoff spends the majority of the new film attempting to propose to Anna, however, what is so revolutionary about Kristoff in this film is both his open expression of emotion (since society has for generations and generations told men the bull crap that it “it isn’t manly to have emotions”), the fact that he doesn’t actually journey with Anna through the entirety of her journey and that Kristoff is also extremely supportive of Anna and he really doesn’t try to “save her.”

Kristoff has this amazing love ballad, “Lost in the Woods“ about halfway through the film. I love this scene for two reasons. Firstly, because this is a scene where Kristoff is free to express his emotions and frustrations. Secondly, because this scene is ridiculously funny! Kristoff sings in the woods with the help of his reindeer friends (especially Sven). This song pokes fun at pretty much every boy band ever and every weird and overly dramatic music video ever. Plus, I love the subtle hint at Queen’s famous “Bohemian Rhapsody” music video where Kristoff and his reindeer friend’s heads are highlighted on a black background.

I also love the fact that Kristoff very much has his own journey in this film. He is left behind by Anna, Elsa, and Olaf for the majority of the primary adventure of the film. Now, to be fair, the group (or at least Anna) didn’t want to leave Kristoff behind and the only reason why he was left behind was his own fault because of his weird proposal scheme with a bunch of reindeer. Yet, Kristoff’s alone time allows for his dramatic, but powerful emotional expression. This separation from the rest of the group also allows for Kristoff’s key positioning towards the end of the film in which he is able to help Anna in her mission to destroy the damn.

Kristoff’s unique positioning in the film not only allows him to help Anna destroy things, but it also allows for a subtle, but powerful moment in film history. It is not very often that a female lead is “allowed” by a male lead to go off and just be able to do what she needs to do without the male questioning her. Kristoff in this epic battle sequence does not question Anna at all. He allows her to take control of the situation and supports her in her efforts. This is HUGE! Now, don’t get me wrong, there are other films that have allowed for this before, but not many.

Kristoff also gets huge kudos for delivering (at least in my opinion) the best line in the film. After Anna apologizes for leaving him behind on their journey, Kristoff states, “My love is not fragile.” I love that Disney chose, in this moment of potential conflict, to show the strength of love and a solid relationship, rather than show a potentially distracting fight. I hope this moment will sink into young children’s heads and hopefully help them understand what a healthy and strong relationship could look like.

Anna also has a powerful and interesting journey in this film. Anna is incredibly protective of Elsa throughout the majority of the film. It is clear that Anna is struggling with a massive amount of change that she is facing in the film and she desperately wants to cling to her strong bonds (which she finally got at the end of the first film). Anna is this sort of overprotective, semi-controlling mess throughout the majority of the movie and it isn’t until she loses a couple of these dear bonds that she starts to face and accept her new reality of change. This leads me into possibly my favorite part of the movie, Anna’s song “The Next Right Thing.” This song is directly after Anna loses both Elsa and Olaf, two of the people (I guess I and counting a snowman as a person in this…) that she is most close to. I LOVE the fact that Disney actually dared to create a song about grief and the realities of loss. This is such a powerful and honest song about grief and the grief process. Anna mourns and struggles to find motivation to go on, yet still keeps stepping forward (both metaphorically and physically). This song acknowledges so many of the thoughts and struggles of losing loved ones, but also the active choice to keep pressing on, to do “the next right thing.” This scene is so full of meaning! Everything from the fact that Anna is trying to find her way through a cold wet cave through the course of this scene (stumbling towards the light at the end of the tunnel), to the fact that her costume changes slightly at this point, she loses her purple cape which she wears through the majority of the film and is now left in her black dress (a morning dress perhaps?), to the deeply meaningful lyrics. This is, by far, one of the most powerful scenes in the film and I so deeply value that Disney included this scene about such a difficult topic in such a high profile film. This scene (at least for me) made an already good movie, into a great one. A movie full of meaning and one that genuinely reflects life in many ways. Another favorite aspect of Frozen II that I really love is that each of the major characters in this film goes on their own paths of discovery. I have already discussed most of them. Olaf deals with “growing up” and how to process the world around him. Kristoff struggles with his emotions and feelings of rejection (although he is not actually being rejected, but sometimes we can feel like that even when it is not true). Anna struggles through her co-dependent nature and loss of control. Actually, looking at all of these major themes in the film really makes it quite clear to me that Frozen II is not only an enjoyable film but is also a very mature one.

Now, I’m sure most of you have noticed by now that I haven’t yet discussed Elsa’s journey in this film. I have saved this one for last primarily because Elsa’s journey is, of course, the primary journey of the film, but also because this is the journey that resonated the most with me personally. Elsa experiences this call, one that in the film is literal, but in real life can be a concept that might deeply resonates with some people as this kind of internal call. At the heart of Elsa’s call is the call for deeper meaning and a greater purpose in life. A call “Into the Unknown” of our lives. A craving to go out there and do what we are meant to do. I love that a children’s film brings up this “call.” I know (although I don’t have voices in my head) I personally have experienced a similar kind of craving to go out and do what I am “meant to do.” I believe that this very much can and does exists, although maybe not everyone has it or listens to it. I love that Disney also chose to include this kind of call in a children’s film. Perhaps this will help people to better understand this concept and help to motivate those who hear it, to pursue it. (Such as a young writer working on pursuing her dreams 😉 )

Before I conclude this blog post, I would love to just bring up a few short notable mentions of various other things that I really loved about Frozen II.

1. First off, I deeply appreciate that Disney did NOT take the “long thought to be dead parents are suddenly alive” approach in this film. This is done just a little too often in children’s film and I don’t like it (although some do it better than others, How to Train Your Dragon 2 for example I believe did an excellent job with bringing the long lost mom back, but I digress...). If Disney had taken this approach then it would have totally ruined the blow of the parent’s death in the first film. Plus it would have personally really pissed me off. Primarily because why would parents (especially ones that really needed to be there for their children (particularly a child with special needs) and their kingdom) just not come back? Or at least fight and work their butts off in order to get back to their loved ones? It just wouldn’t have made sense and I am really glad that Disney did not take this root. If anything they confirmed that Anna and Elsa’s parents did, in fact, die at sea. This is tragic, yes, but necessary. (I’m also a firm believer in the concept that the mentor has to die in order for the protagonist to grow to the point they need to be. Frankly, Anna and Elsa’s parents had to die in order for both of them to grow.)

2. I also love the fact that Anna and Elsa don’t actually stay together at the end of the film. They both have larger responsibilities/calling that they have to tend to. Although they, of course, love each other, sometimes physically staying in the same place as your loved ones hold you back from what you are capable of. The end of the film also shows a good example of how to stay connected even when you don’t live together anymore.

3. Okay, this one isn’t directly connected to the film actually because it is about one of the songs that got cut from the final product. So if you listen to the full Frozen II Deluxe Edition of the album (Available on Spotify if you are wondering) then you will come across the song “I Seek the Truth.” I have found this song quite delightful and I highly encourage people to go check it out! This song has intriguing lyrics and gorgeous music. It doesn’t quite have the powerhouse quality that “Into the Unknown” and “Show Yourself” have (which I am guessing is the main reason why this song was cut), but it does have a clever tune, plus it is very enjoyable and meaningful (at least in my opinion).

Overall I LOVED Frozen II and I am super excited for it to join the Disney library. The film is both highly enjoyable and deeply meaningful. Kudos to Disney for yet another masterpiece!

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