#why did she use the fact that my beloved grandmother was dying as a way to manipulate me into accepting her 'ur not trans just Sick' agenda

[hickoryhorneddevils]

[apinchofm]

Arranged

for @elephantinparis

"You avoid me."

Rhaena was surprised to hear Aemond behind her in the royal gardens. She liked to walk through the gardens, giving herself an illusion of freedom. Her father had simply given her up to marry a man she did not wish to marry.

"I thought it best, do you not?" Rhaena said. She lifted her light blue and gold skirts, her dress a bright contrast to her husband's dark and brooding black and blue that he always wore.

Meeting at the top of the stairs, Aemond made the steps towards her. She was always making him do that.

He smirked, "And how will we give your father and my mother a grandchild?"

He did not bed her on their wedding night, choosing to cut himself and make it seem as she had lost her virtue.

She did not know what to make of him. He could be so aloof and cold. His words, little as they were, were often sarcastic.

So she was indifferent to him, but delighted in the little ways she could frustrate him. She spent time with Heleana and Daeron and the twins. At court, with her Velaryon cousins and other ladies, she was delightful.

"We have meen married two moons and you are still intact." He said lowly, "People will get suspicious."

Rhaena frowned, "But...I..."

"I am not forcing you into anything. I prefer my partners enthusiastic." Aemond interrupted sharply.

"I am sure they are, when you pay them." Rhaena snarked.

Aemond merely smirked, "Oh, they are. Does that make you jealous, my sweet dragon?"

She scowled causing his smile to widen slightly. He enjoyed frustrating her. Suddenly, there was an unreadable look in his eye. His leaned in even closer, his right hand around her waist pulling her close.

Was he going to...? Rhaena wondered to herself. He had only kissed her twice and she was no expert in kissing but they were good, she supposed. But they were for show.

"Unhand me." She whispered.

"We are being observed." He turned his head and she followed his eye line to see some courtiers who gave them a knowing look, leaving the gardens to no doubt spread rumours.

...

She hated Aemond and he despises her. That is what Rhaena told herself, even as her lower belly burned in his presence. She did not know why.

He was like a dragonlord of old. Much like her father, he fashioned himself after Maegor or Aegon the Conqueror.

But he would never enter her chambers without permission. Sometimes, gifts and books were sent to her. New gowns.

She hated him. She hated how conflicted he made her.

"Is that for your sister?"

She gasped, shocked by how silently he could move. She was sitting at her desk and he merely stood in the doorway of their adjoining rooms.

She was in fact writing to Baela, who was on Dragonstone, utterly beloved by their father, to tell her how she was. She had promised, after all.

"Yes." Rhaena said.

"Do you wish for me to send it for you? I have a few of father's correspondence that I will sending." He asked.

She looked at him suspiciously, "Why?"

"Rhaena, neither of us are stupid. You writing to your sister is not treasonous and no one will question it of I send it in your place."

"Oh." Rhaena nodded.

She was not convinced until the following afternoon, he returned with two letters for her.

"You sent them." Rhaena observed, seeing the seal. Driftmark on one, the other Dragonstone - her grandmother and Baela.

"I said I would, did I not?" Aemond scoffed. He had been honest - if not brutally so - with her.

"Thank you."

"Will I be welcome in your chambers then, sweet dragon?" He asked teasingly. She hugged angrily and ignored his chuckles as she stormed into her chambers.

…

How dare he?

She supposed she could not do what Rhaenyra did - Aemond would probably kill the man involved.

"A child is a blessing." Alicent said, one afternoon when they had tea, "Aemond's labour was easy."

Her mother's labour had not been easy. She recalls the baby dying soon after and her mother's pyre. She did want to be a mother.

...

Garmund Hightower seemed nice. He was tall with light strawberry blonde hair and green eyes. A part of Rhaena thought to ask him to father her children if her husband still hated her.

He asked her dance during the King's nameday banquet and she was enjoying herself.

Aemond watched his wife dance with his cousin.

"Aemond, please do not kill our cousin here," Daeron warned lowly when he saw his brother stand.

"Of course not." He murmured noncommittally.

Rhaena, in her off-shoulder pink and silver ballgown, stood out with ease. He watched his cousin's hand slide to the small of her back.

Garmund's face fell upon seeing his cousin and he bowed stiffly, walking away. To test Aemond's temper was to be like waking Vhagar.

Rhaena turned around and gasped in surprise seeing him.

"Aemond."

"Wife." His hands pulled her close, and she instinctively placed her hands on his shoulders.

"You do not like to dance."

"That does not mean I do not know how." A dance was much like combat, and he had been sure to train in both.

"Enjoying my cousin's company?"

"He was being kind." Rhaena said, "A familial trait I am sure skipped you."

He smirked, "Oh, my sweet dragon."

"Do not call me that."

"Why? Which part do you object to?" Aemond whispered in her ear. He watched her shiver and hummed. This was why she despised him.

"Come." He said, tugging her out of the ballroom. Rhaena was confused but did not cause a scene but was confused as he dragged her out of the Great Hall.

He took her into a dark alcove and pressed her into the wall. Her breath hitched, and she looked up at him, violet eyes wide and nervous.

Then he kissed her.

He cradled her head gently, so odd and contrasting to his kisses' frantic and desperate nature. She tried to keep up, swiping her tongue against his. Then he pulled away, kissing her neck. He dragged his teeth across her neck and she sighed.

Then he stopped.

Rhaena huffed heavily, her heart beating wildly in her chest against her ribs.

"That was rather intimate." She stuttered out.

"Yes." Aemond agreed.

They returned to their chambers silently. She did not know what to do except get ready for bed as she usually did. She was in no mood to go back to the ball.

She heard a knock at her door and then soon after, Aemond opened the door, coming in. She was sitting on her chaise, reading.

"Aemond." She greeted gently, closing her book.

"Why did you-? I mean, you- what was that?" Rhaena demanded.

"That was a kiss, sweet girl." He said.

"No, it was more than that. You-! Ugh!" In frustration, she threw the book in her hand at his head, unable to articulate.

He dodged the book with ease, stepping to the side, amused, "May I ask what that was for?"

"You! You always hate me and then you do kind things and give me gifts and send my letters and then hate me all over and I hate that I cannot fathom why or how and I..." She ranted before wiping her face when she felt something wet.

She was crying, she realized. Tears of frustration ran down her cheeks.

"I don't hate you."

His words stunned her into silence. She opened and closed her mouth, unsure.

"I don't hate you, sweet girl. I hate being forced into arrangements. I despise your Strong boys-"

"Again, treasonous-"

"But I do not hate you." Aemond finished, ignoring her objection. He looked at her, sapphire and indigo boring into her. He was not wearing his patch. She never had minded and was not scared of him as other ladies in the court were.

She sat down on the carpet, exhausted. Aemond sat down next to her. He handed her the book she threw as they just looked into the fireplace.

"I do not socialize often," Aemond said after a while, and she looked at him, "Nor do I court. So I do not know how to..."

She needed kindness, he had realised early. A girl separated from the only family she knew; her twin sister and grandparents and her father so cold as to let her go.

He tried. He gave her gifts silently and sent her letters.

"Perhaps you should practice more." Rhaena suggested quietly, "You are a good dancer. And intelligent."

"As are you. You are better at getting people to like you." She was the darling of the court. Even married, people flocked to her.

"I would like you to speak to me. I have never been good at nonverbal communication." Rhaena whispered. He nodded.

"I am scared of having a baby." Rhaena admitted, "After my mother..."

"We need not have a child if we start fucking, Rhaena." There were ways to prevent or delay.

Her face warmed at his crass choice of words, but she cleared her "But is that not why people...?"

"One reason." Aemond said, "But it can bring two people closer. Or so I hear."

"Oh." Rhaena said, "But you had not-?"

"I do not wish to force you. I told you. I like my partner's willing and I think you want to, but you do not know how."

He was right. There was something that always stirred inside of her around him, even when he was frustrating.

"I do not want to harm you, Rhaena." Aemond admitted quietly, "We are in a mess not of our making. Let us find something from it. But we need not do anything yet."

She reached out and gently touched his hand, thankfully. She felt his hand tense and he looked at her confused and she worried that she had gone too far.

But he held onto her, his thumb gently stroking her knuckles. She found the gesture soothing and shuffled closer to him.

Pressing a kiss to her shoulder, she sighed, "May we be friends, husband?"

He smiled slightly, "We may, wife."

[themagnusbane]

GAP The Series Episode 10 Thoughts

Knowing where we left off: some joy, some gay and a topping of pain, I'm hoping that we get a resolution to Mon's "Khun Sam deserves better than me" derailment, so we can get more of our beloved sapphics, before the wicked witch of a grandmother shows up to, like my people would say "pour sand inside their garri." If you're not Nigerian, that probably flew right over your head. Sorry.

I love the irony in just how much I love Mon's love pajamas! It's soooo cute!!! I want!!!!!!

2. But on a side note though. Every single time they wake up with a face full of makeup, I cackle at how unrealistic it is. Like sure, if Idol Factory wants to convince me (which they absolutely CANNOT because I have eyes!!!) that Mon wakes up every morning with her lips soft and dewy and just that smattering of the right blush on her cheeks, and her eyes that pop, one question still remains... WHAT ABOUT THE BED HEAD? WHERE IS THE BED HEAD GAP THE SERIES???

3. Awwwwww. Look at Sam smiling at her beloved. MY HEART!!!!!! But also. Are we just going to ignore the fact that they had a fight with Sam walking away, just the previous episode? Did they think we forgot? Or is Sam just so hopelessly in love that she can't stay mad at the sight of Mon's gorgeous face. Which...

4. The hug from behind. The "Good mornings". That kiss on her cheek. Them walking hand-in-hand. They're killing me your honor. They're killing me with all that sweetness and I AM DYING A VERY VERY HAPPY WOMAN!!!

5. Ah!!! So they started from before-the-fight. Okay, that makes sense. Cuz I was worried for a moment that the show wasn't going to address it. Which now that I think about it... GAP honey. I'm so sorry I doubted you for a minute there. I know you are not that kind of girl. I can't believe I briefly forgot that. Please forgive me!!

6. Ooooof. The fight is still as painful the second time around. Mon sweetheart, we really need to get your self-esteem up. Sure you're a "commoner" [I really REALLY hate that term!!!], but you're a commoner that Sam loves. Why can't you believe that? I would understand if her reservations are around whether or not Sam's grandmother would be accepting of her, considering her gender AND her commoner status, but she's coming from this from a place of "I don't deserve Khun Sam", which urgh!!! I really hope Sam sets her straight and is clear in how perfect Mon is, and how in fact it is Sam who is underserving of her, and not the other way round.

7. Gghghghjgjhghj. Cher complimenting the colour of Sam's car is like that cliche of "I a gay man, likes sports" and I am cackling because this is so fucking hilarious and I love how they're giving my sapphics ALL the cliches. Yes!!! Feed them to me. Shoot them directly into my veins!!!

8. Cher being all "of course the weird girl will give her car a weird name" is SENDING ME!!!! But... she's not wrong though. The only thing is, we and Mon, love Sam just the way she is. Hehehehehehe.

9. Mon Sweetheart, I know you want to get something nice and expensive for your girl. But Sam doesn't want that. The only thing she wants from you, is you. Your love, your goodness, that big, big heart of yours. Why would you feel bad about not being able to buy the woman who has everything, something lavish. Look at Kirk! He could do all of that. But is she with him? No!!! You are the one she wants! Let that sink in. PLEASE!!!!

10. See!!! I knew the minute I saw Cher, there was a connection between us!! I just knew that this was a lesbian who could wreck me, an acerbic tongue, with a sense of style and common sense to boot! Tee is still my goddess, Nita would destroy me, and for Cher I would risk everything. GAP is making me even more happy that I am polyamorous. BRING ME ALL THE SAPPHICS!!! I want to collect them like Pokémon cards!! But also, MON ARE YOU LISTENING TO THE OLDER SAPPHICS!!! Money can't buy love!! Sam knows this. She recognizes this. I hope after this conversation, you would too!!!

11. Romance. Comedy. Drama. Horror. Would you look at that Mon. Risa and Cher's story has the same elements as yours and Sam's. Even down to the wealth and the family that hopefully Sam cuts off because fuck that evil witch of the West masquerading as her grandmother!!! But yeah. Listen to the slightly older and much happier lesbians Mon. Grab your happiness and your girl by your hands and don't let go. Cuz her grandmother would do enough objecting of you both's relationship anyway.

12. Aaaaaaaand... Speak of the witch and she doth appears. Urgh!!! Why do I have the feeling that she probably knows that Sam isn't with her friends, and this passive aggressive phone call with the "is Kirk not with you", is just her testing her granddaughter to see if Sam would lie to her. Urgh. This woman gives me anxiety!!!!

13. I knew it!!! Look at that look in her eyes. She totally knows!

14. Kirk. You piece of trash with your ghost-looking face!!! You know that telling her "you should hear it from Sam" would confirm evil grandmother's suspicions. But you want to keep up the facade that you are a good person, whilst nudging her in the direction where she will confirm everything. You shady bastard. Urgh!!!!

15. And of course evil grandmother is all "I'll handle it" with that conniving look on her face. You see what you did there Kirk? You set her in that direction. Let her see the hesitation in your eyes, indirectly confirmed that you know Sam's with someone else, and have therefore set off the snowball that would seemingly get you what you want, even though it would make Sam miserable. I really, really don't like you!

16. Awwwwww. Look at that sweet apology. Look at Sam being honest about her being hurt, and why she is hurt, and what her fears are. You see that Mon? You're not the only one with fears and doubts. Sure both your concerns have different faces, but the key to solving them is COMMUNICATION!!! Glad you both are finally doing just that!

17. OMG!!!! It's Tee and Yuki, on their couple's retreat as well!!! Look at all my favourite sapphics, gathered under one roof!!!!

18. Sam's "you must have been sent by grandmother, you a spy!!!" talk is sending me!!! And Tee's being able to guess that Sam's grumpy reception is because she and Mon are fighting???? Chef's kiss. I LOVE THIS WOMAN EVERYONE!!! I WOULD DIE FOR HER!!! Tee, I love you. I will make you the main interest in my harem of women. Be mine!

19. Risa and Cher flirting in front of my single salad is making me feel even more single.

20. Awwwww. Look how quickly Sam ran to Mon's side, when she thought she was hurt. Even whilst angry, she's still like "Mon, you come first!" My darling. My baby. My precious.

21. Of course she's not angry anymore. She can't stay mad at you for long. It's why she's so precious. How adorable!!!!

22. Hehehehehe. Cher and Sam have such similar personalities, watching them clash makes me cackle so hard. You can basically see both their Persian cat furs bristling at each other, with Mon and Risa having to work extra hard to calm their women down. This is glorious. Look at them fighting over festivals. Ha!

23. Yo! Why am I only seeing two couples and two lanterns? Where are Tee and Yuki??? Where's their lanterns???? Are they helping with Mon's surprise???? I have questions!!!

24. OMG!!! They are!!! Ha!!!! Is she proposing??? OMG! OMG! OMG!!!! They're totally doing a proposal/marriage thing right now. I am not crying! I am not crying. These are not tears! It's my allergies acting up! OMG!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

25. That was so sweet! THE SWEETEST PROPOSAL!! My heart!! I can't stop grinning. That was sooo good, and so beautiful. I love love y'all!! I LOVE LOVE!!!!!!

26. I swear, I think these two became even more radiant after Mon's proposal. It's like them settling into the knowledge that they love each other and want to spend the rest of their lives together, filled them with the honeymoon glow and I AM LIVING FOR IT!!!!

27. Hold up! HOLD THE FUCK UP!!! Isn't that her elder sister??? The oldest, who wanted to become an artist and witchy grandmother burned all her things??? OMG!!! It is her!!!! Look at that glow!! Look at that radiance!!! She is incandescent!!! That is what happens when you get out from under the roof of the wicked grandmother of the West! Sam!! Take a cue from your oldest sister and bounce. Tap into the radiance you deserve. Cuz your shitty grandmother doesn't deserve a modicum of goodness from you.

28. See. I understand what she is saying. And somewhere buried beneath all that, is the truth of what I want Sam to realize (she will never be happy living with her grandmother and she needs to cut the woman off and never look back), but there is a decent way to make that statement, and calling your younger sister, who you abandoned (because she is the oldest, and she basically left her two younger siblings in the hands of an abusive and toxic relative, without trying to create a situation where they can come to her and rely on her and ask her for help), who died trying to get away from the evil witch, weak, is so not cool, and is in fact very cruel.

29. Aaaaaand of course, the witch of a homophobe that is her grandmother now knows the truth. I am bracing myself for carnage because we all know that the person who's going to get the brunt of the disaster that is about to go down is poor, innocent Mon.

30. Urgh!!! It's already here. I don't want to see this. She's about to manipulate her in some way isn't she? Poor Mon. You don't deserve this.

31. See? She's starting things off by establishing that she knows everything there is to know about Mon. That she knows her family. Her friends. Her history. Before outrightly stating that Mon planned everything, and set things up to be close to Sam. And of course she's going to bring Kirk and his "feelings" into this. Which FUCK YOU GRANDMOTHER! Mon sweetheart, just because he was good to you, doesn't mean that you have to sacrifice your happiness for him. Because trust me, if the tables were turned, his entitled ass won't do shit.

32. And of course they are double-tagging to try and break Sam and Mon up. Fuck you and your apologies Kirk. I hope you fucking choke, you lying, backstabbing piece of shit. We already know that her grandmother is going to rot in all the nine hells. But you? You piece of shit who pretended to be a good person, until you weren't able to get the girl... You are so much worse!

33. He really fired Chin and Yha???? And we all know it's a set-up to whatever it is that evil grandmother of the West has set in motion to get Sam and Mon to break up, to to have Sam do what she wants. Which urgh!!! Please tell me Yha wouldn't out of anger at getting fired, want to pull Mon down, because she also knows their secret! Urgh, this is a mess!!!!

34. On one hand, I'm cheering Sam on for being all "I am going to fire Mon. And date her outside of the office. Thank you for opening my eyes to that possibility". But on the other hand, I don't think Kirk is done with his stupid plan and I'm anxious about what he and that grandmother witch have planned.

35. I can't believe I'm saying this but Nop... You are a good egg. You have sense. Who would have thought that between you and Kirk, you would be the one with the backbone and the cool head on your shoulders. Yes please! Call out trash grandmother for her trash ways. Fuck the bourgeoisie. FUCK HER!!!! And thank you for encouraging Mon to pick up Sam's calls and talk to her. You see that Kirk? YOU SEE YOUR MATE?!!! Just like you, he too was interested in Mon. He wanted to be in a relationship with her. And when she said no, he backed away. When he discovered her relationship with Sam, he supported her. And now, he's encouraging her to be with the woman she loves. Nop's baby finger is better than your entire ass put together Kirk! Infinitely better!!!

36. Urgh Mon. Just tell her the truth already!!! None of this "I miss home" nonsense. If y'all's relationship is going to survive, you need to tell her that her grandmother came over, and tell her all the trash things, that witchy vampire of a grandmother said.

37. Atta girl. You did good. And Sam's immediate 'I'm sorry. I shouldn't have let you face this" has me bawling. My precious babies. I want only happiness for you both!! You need to walk away from your grandmother Sam. But knowing Mon, she would feel extra guilty if she felt that it's because of her that you walked away from your witch of a grandmother which urgh!!!! Toxic family relationships are the worst!!!

38. Her grandmother's house really is stunning. But it's cold. So fucking cold. Fitting for a witch in her soulless castle. I swear if this conversation doesn't end with "Grandmother. If you love Kirk so much, then YOU marry him," I am screaming at my TV.

So yeah. We get happiness and sapphics in love, and proposals. But we also get this nonsense with Kirk teaming up with Sam's grandmother which urgh!! This will probably be our lives for the next two episodes until the end of the series. But you know what? The fact that I only have to hang in there for two more weeks, until they kick Kirk to the cub, and hopefully break the bonds with grandmother witch? I can hang in there. I just want to see my babies get their happy ending. And I'm willing to do anything to make that happen for them!!! Including praying and hoping that dishonorable witchy grandmother croaks. Cuz that's the one solution I see to all of this.

[deafwishesblog]

Navigating Unspoken Grief: The Journey That Followed Losing My Lovely Mum

"Hello readers, I've just started a blog as a means of processing and documenting my little life. I must say I am I am terrified to share! But I know I must. Here's my introduction & any support, especially on my WordPress site would be thoroughly appreciated. All my love, E x"

It has been almost three years since my mother closed her eyes during her birthday celebrations and never woke up. I won’t disclose her age as, even though I struggle to completely believe that she is still ‘with us’ I entirely trust in her supernatural ability to smite me down. I am now twenty-five and find it very affronting to think about, let alone speak of her passing. My life, like most, has already been very crowded and intricately unique. It has been so eventful that I often feel immensely overwhelmed to remember everything, as who else will? Other than my beloved grandmother and younger brother, I don’t have much in the way of my immediate family. My mother was orphaned in her early twenties; my father left in a selfish, narcissistic flurry when I was eight; my paternal grandfather moved abroad, divorced and remarried, returning once in fifteen years. I find it easy to dismiss these departures in the sense that life happens, and people change, but I inevitably, and often at my lowest, find myself asking why wasn’t I enough to stay.

No one can ever, truly, understand the utter void that comes from losing a parent, unless they too have. Everyone can empathize and reference ill-equipped grief literature, but they can never grasp that empty feeling that the lovely, vibrant being that brought you into this existence is no longer. It’s specific, looming and often very, very inconvenient. I feel a particular bond among those who have experienced this loss. It does not manifest as gravitation towards parentless people but more of a passing respect. A level of understanding of the pain that they too have endured. It is an unnervingly refreshing feeling that the playing fields are levelled.

I consider myself privileged in the sense that I knew my mother was dying at a young age. It wasn’t a shock, I never imagined her at my wedding or holding her grandchildren. I knew, from around age 14, that one day it’ll be just my brother, the dog and I. My mother did not shy away from the topic of death, it was very casually referenced in both calm and heated conversations. Of course, nothing could have ever prepared us for her passing, but I appreciate the lengths she went to make us comfortable. It is due to this comfort that I don’t often process how different my life experiences have been from that of my peers. I place myself in the race, intensely mourning my failures without taking a step back to acknowledge that I am at a disadvantage. When I failed to ask a training-related question during an intense Zoom call in my first week of work, I felt the familiar weight of imposter syndrome, haunted by the perceived judgement of my inattentive colleagues. In that moment, I yearned to type a chat message that would shatter the silence: ‘I’m so sorry, everyone. I was terribly distracted. The funeral home just called. I need to select an outfit for my mother’s cremation. How on earth do you choose something like that? Do I include a bra? Who would want to be cremated wearing one?’ But, as we all know, such words can’t be sent, can they? It is these unspoken thoughts that have compelled me to write this blog, a therapeutic outlet for the words I wish I could have uttered, all the while paying homage to the remarkable woman who raised me.

I am also motivated by the fact that no one ever asks. I completely understand why. It is uncomfortable, and they would like to preserve my happiness as best they can. For that, I love and adore those around me. I do, however, often feel an immense emptiness following interactions where I am unable to acknowledge my grief. I am undoubtedly too concerned with what others think of me. Out of sheer avoidance of inconveniencing them, I often remain silent and allow the weight on my chest to burrow deeper. This leaves most of my relationships feeling shallow and insincere. I want to grab the metaphorical mic and scream about how lucky they are, how hard it’s been and about trivial things like how much my mum just absolutely loved prawns. She loved them so much. We’d have to stop at Iceland every Christmas to get a comically large frozen wheel of them. You should have seen her when our Greek all-inclusive had a shellfish night. She was so utterly happy it was the most radiant I’ve ever seen her. Most likely due to the sheer amount of Omega-3 coursing through her veins. Anyway, this blog is to be my mic. I need to face what happened with transparency and accountability whilst sharing the relentlessly hilarious experiences and coincidences that have occurred along the way.

While I am excited to embark on this journey, I must admit to feeling incredibly nervous about sharing it. To those who have read this far, I hold an immense appreciation that words alone cannot adequately express. Thank you.

[of-muppets-and-men]

A While...

It was cold. So, so cold.

Qrow laid languid upon the smooth stone floor, wondering where he was and how he’d gotten here. With eyelids growing heavier by the second, he weakly scanned the room for any clue as to what was going on. To his right, he saw his daughter, Ruby. And his niece, Yang, along with all of their friends behind them. Blake, The Schnee girl, Oscar, Jaune, the noisy redhead and her quiet boyfriend… 

What didn’t make sense, however, was that they were crying. Ruby kept repeating a handful of lines he couldn’t hear all that well. Stay with me and you’re gonna be okay, were the most common. Her voice was off, like she was speaking underwater, every syllable drowning out into muffled noise. Weiss and Blake stood beside their teammates, consoling them for whatever reason.

And then it hit him.

A sudden and horrible twinge of pain in his gut. Or where his gut should’ve been…

Qrow’s weary eyes travelled south to see a fresh, gaping hole in his torso. With a limp motion of his left hand, Qrow traipsed his fingers through the brutal wound. He felt the moisture and heat of his ichor; this was definitely not a dream. His hand slumped back to side, slapping against the hard stone. The wet sensation under Qrow’s palm; more blood, too much in fact. It took a moment for him to realize…

I’m dying, The thought rang out in his mind.

Even though his ears were failing, Qrow could still make out the low sobs of the people around him. Though the ones that shook him the most were Ruby’s. The veteran huntsman watched helplessly as his daughter called his name, begging him to his eyes open. Ruby shook him as gently as possible, but he could no longer feel her touch. Qrow’s vermilion eyes darkened as he stared one last time at his child who looked so much like the woman he loved.

And with a final breath, he spoke: “I love you, Ruby.”

He wasn’t even sure if it was out loud, but he hoped it had been as he faded into nothingness.

No Dad…  Please don’t go…  Don’t leave me…

His daughter’s words echoed throughout the endless sea of black he fell through. His body felt light, lighter than it had been in decades. The pain had all but disappeared; Qrow closed his eyes as he slipped further into the abyss. This isn’t so bad, he thought to himself. 

As quickly as his life had come to close, he felt warmth encompass him once more. Feeling the heat against his brow, Qrow slowly opened his eyes to see a world of golden light. Its radiance stung so with a free hand, the huntsman sheltered his gaze. With a bit of time, he adjusted and stared wildly into this new place he found himself stood in. 

Caught up in his surroundings, he failed to realize the pain in his chest was gone. Qrow frantically rubbed at his blazer, to find no wound whatsoever, as if it had never happened.

“What the hell...”

“What’s wrong, Beanstalk? It’s not like you to look so lost.” a voice came from behind him.

Qrow froze in place. He knew that voice, but it couldn’t be…

Slowly, the man swivelled around to see if he was right. And he was. The love of his life looked back at him, as beautiful as the day he lost her. Qrow stood speechless, mouth agape, unable to find even the simplest thing to say. The Huntsman’s knuckles shivered in disbelief, all the while Summer just continued to smile. Her mirror-like gaze laid waste to Qrow’s confidence, as it had since the first day they met.

“Well? Where’s my kiss?” She said snidely, breaking the silence.

His legs moved on their own. First a walk into a run then a run into a sprint. His wife did the same until she was close enough to endearingly leap into his arms. With a spin and a twirl, the two embraced for the first time in over a decade. Qrow took in her heat, her presence and best of all, her lips. Soft and tender, just like he remembered. Summer rummaged her fingers through his thick, feathery locks, recalling every strand; greying as they may be. Qrow slumped to his knees, Summer still pulled to his chest. The only reason they pulled away from each other’s grasp was to catch their breath.

They’d dreamt of this ever since she left, never to be seen again. Emotions from years past reared their heads: Guilt, Regret, Grief… Before he knew, Qrow had begun to cry. Summer’s digits clutched his cheeks, her thumbs wiping away tears.

“Summer… I… Gods I…” Qrow stammered, too overjoyed to formulate anything coherent.

Lucky for him, Summer knew what he was trying to convey. 

Pressing her forehead to his, “I know… I missed you, too.”

Overwhelmed by his reunion with Summer, Qrow sprawled out onto the invisible floor. Summer followed suit, laying parallel beside him. The little woman stared deviously at her husband’s attire; a very welcome change to the drab rags her wore before.

“I like the new look.” She said while stroking his vest.

A scoff escaped Qrow’s chest. But his uplifted demeanor didn’t last. Summer watched as his face shifted to a familiar scowl.

“Hey, what’s wrong?”

“Sum… If I’m here with you then that means I’m...”

“Dead? Yes. You are.”

“How?”

“You shielded Ruby from Salem’s black magic… Her blonde friend, Jaune I think was his name, tried to help you but it was too late...”

A deep, shaky breath left him following his wife’s explanation. Qrow’s mind spun into every prominent trail of thought. He’d always longed to see Summer again, but never did he think it would be like this. He was dead, but at least Ruby was safe. Although even that bit of optimism turned to poison his mind. Ruby, his pride and joy, was alive but now, he’d left her alone…

Beset by the anguish of having to leave his daughter behind, Qrow’s face turned away from Summer’s. Well attuned to her husband’s mood, Summer sat up and positioned herself by his head. A little shift and Qrow’s head was resting on her thigh, his sullen eyes still lingering with regret.

Stroking her hand across his cheek, Summer spoke, “Not enjoying my company, Mr. Branwen?”

“Hmph, It’s not that… I’m worried about Ruby. She’s on her own now…”

“I wouldn’t say that.” Summer retorted, “She still has Yang, Tai and the rest of her friends.”

“But I should’v-”

“Oh Qrow, don’t do that. This isn’t your fault. You chose her life over yours, a decision any parent would make. If you died doing something so noble than so be it. Besides, it’ll be nice to have someone to wait with me. C’mon, there’s something I want to show you.”

Qrow felt his beloved suddenly stand up, letting his head thud against the floor. Naturally, rather than apologizing, Summer pointed and laughed instead. It annoyed him, but ultimately let it slide; still the same old brat she always was. The huntsman sat up when Summer offered a hand, letting him tower above once more. With a delicate tug of his arm, Summer coaxed her husband to follow.

“This way.”

A low grumble in reply.

Qrow steadily walked behind her, minding his gait as to not step on her heels. It had been so long since they’d stood side by side, so her tiny silhouette surprised him a touch. He found it tempting to tease her vertically challenged self, but decided it wasn’t worth the asskicking it would bring. So he set her vermilion eyes to the golden scenery around them.

“What is this place?” he asked in earnest.

“A realm between reality and the afterlife,” Summer answered, “Or at least that’s what Oz told me.”

“You met Oz?”

“Just once. Not too long ago actually. I think he was just as surprised to see me as I him.” Summer recounted.

“Did he say anything?”

“No, not really. Just apologized to me and then disappeared after a few minutes. Must’ve reincarnated.”

The two continued to walk in uncomfortable silence. It was difficult to think the man they both trusted used them as a means to an end. How both of them had become casualties of his war. Qrow watched as Summer bow her head as her strides slowed. In a brief fit of speed, she saw her husband pull up beside and take her hand in his own. His rough mitts sprawled to intertwine with hers; silver met red as they grinned at one another. But at last, they reached the place Summer had been so eager to show.

“We’re here.”

“And where is here?”

“Watch this…” Summer said as half-heartedly pulled from his grip.

Puzzled, Qrow looked on as Summer stood still in a place that didn’t look all that different from everywhere else. With a single wave of her hand, the golden sky dissipated and exploded into colour, revealing a place he’d never thought he’d see again.

Thick tree brush and rolling hills leading to a cliff’s edge overlooking an all too familiar island.

“Patch…” Qrow breathed as he stared out beyond the horizon.

“Like it? I found this ages ago. It’s kinda like a window into the real world, though i’m not sure why it’s here.”

“But why here specifically?”

“I thought you’d like to revisit our old makeout spot…” Summer purred coyly.

Qrow blushed, his cheeks nearly as red as his eyes, while Summer relished in her talent for teasing him. Face still flush, she pulled him toward the precipice; a favourite spot of theirs in life. They sat side by side, Qrow traipsing an arm over her shoulder. She in turn wrapped an arm around his waist, then adjusted her bangs with her free hand. The reunited lovers nuzzled their heads together as they watched Patch’s sunrise, it’s majesty looming over the tiny isle.

“I love you, Summer.”

“I love you too, Qrow.”

“Do you think Ruby will forgive us for leaving?”

“I don’t know… but let’s sit here for a while and find out.”

Decades Later

Ruby Rose.

A Huntress. A Hero. Slayer of Evil and Bringer of Hope.

Now laid on her deathbed after years of devoting her life, surrounded by her family. A beloved wife, mother of two and grandmother of four soon to be five. Her children and grandchildren watched on as she took in their faces one last time. Unlike the many before her, Ruby’s age has finall caught up with her.

She’d lost so much… Friends, Her mother, Her father, Her team. But she goes to them now without a drop of fear, knowing she’d done her best. 

Slowly, it all fades to black as her long and storied life comes to an end.

She can feel herself pass through the veil, shrouded in darkness. Only to see a light, just as many others had described.

Ruby awakes to a world wreathed in golden light, her body light as it had been in her youth. Confused, her eyes dart around, searching for a sign for… anything.

That is when she sees them.

A man and woman standing side by side, hand in hand. Ruby squints to see who they are and is welcomed by the faces of her parents.

She runs, she sprints and leaps into their arms. Tears stream down all their faces; a moment Qrow and Summer had diligently waited for.

And even without words, Qrow knew the answer to his question.

[adamwatchesmovies]

The Worst of 2019

I had to follow-up my “Best of 2019″ list with its opposite universe counterpart but before I give the movies that made me suffer another lashing, let’s make a couple of things clear. I’m not a paid professional and even if I was, all I would be is a film critic. Making movies is hard. Nobody in the industry aims to do a bad job - there are much easier ways to make a living. Even though I might’ve hated these films with a passion that still smolders now, I’ve got mad respect for anyone who decides to put themselves out there and put together a movie. At the end of the day, your work is going to live on. You made something millions will see. Me? I’ll ultimately fade away. Take this into consideration as we single out the movies that tried and failed, sometimes spectacularly.

10. Cats

Cats is the kind of movie that doesn’t come around often. It’s actually kind of fascinating to watch, or it would be if it weren’t so boring. Rebel Wilson (who was destined to have a movie on this list when she starred in The Hustle) plays a cat who unzips her skin to reveal an outfit… above her skin again? She leads a choreographed troupe of singing mice and cockroaches that fill you with terror and confusion. It’s as if they’ve been scaled so the actors could scoop them up and swallow them whole - as cats would do - but because human proportions are so different from cat’s the objects and other animals they interact with change size from scene to scene. Meanwhile, Idris Elba is prowling around with his coat all open, his non-existent junk exposed to all who want to see. Our main character is so bland and unmemorable she makes no impact on you whatsoever. There’s magic in a plot that’s composed almost entirely of introductions - which might make it accurate to the broadway show but not entertaining as a movie -, dodgy special effects in every frame, lame jokes coming from the left and the right… and yet, I don’t hate this film like I do the others on this list. In fact, a part of me even admires Cats.

The thing is, had this movie worked, it would’ve been hailed as genius. It didn’t so it’s being ridiculed but I have to give it points for its ambition and willingness to take chances. That means a lot in a year in which every single one of the top ten grossing films were sequels, remakes or expansions of already-existing properties.The gamble didn’t pay off, but Cats had the guts to walk up to the plate.

9. Dumbo

I was tempted to lump The Lion King and Aladdin along with this tale of a baby elephant that learns to fly while a family of circus performers learn that the big circus tycoon played by Michael Keaton is a meanie. Few of the Disney “live-action” remakes do anything to validate their existence. They’re just feeding you what you can already watch at home for free because you probably already own the originals on home video or you have Disney+. I’m going to single out Dumbo as the worst because it actually tried something different and failed spectacularly. This means we can expect all future Disney remakes to take as few chances as possible.

8. Jay and Silent Bob Reboot

There are other movies I could’ve put in this spot (see the Runner-Ups section below for examples) but I had to consider the experience as well as the movie itself. Jay and Silent Bob Reboot is an unfunny comedy that walks into the room as if it’s going to marry your mother and be your new father. It makes fun of the very thing it’s doing. This might make it appealing to members of the “View Askewniverse” cult but not to me. Whether you’ve been brainwashed by Kevin Smith or not, it’s impossible to sit through the painful bonus material which follows the film, particularly the interviews conducted by Jason Mewes. The actor displays no charisma whatsoever while asking questions you don’t care about to people who obviously don’t want to be on camera. I get what Smith was doing; he was trying to give his fans more than just the movie but anyone in their right mind should’ve seen the bonus footage and burned it.

4. Dark Phoenix

What a disappointing way to end the X-Men franchise. Dull until the very end and then interesting for just enough time to make you realize you didn’t just dream it all, the movie was a bad idea from the start. We haven’t known the young version of the X-Men long enough for this story to mean anything and the choices made to make this story more faithful to the comics makes you wonder if you stepped into the wrong movie. Even before seeing Dark Phoenix, I thought people were being too harsh on The Last Stand. They did a lot of things wrong in 2006 but they had the good sense to leave out the aliens. It’s not great but it’s been somewhat redeemed since because its plot advanced the series and meant something in the end. Even if Disney had considered keeping this franchise alive while it was acquiring Fox, this is such a mess they now have no choice but to reboot the whole thing.

4. Jexi

Jexi feels like it just escaped from a time capsule. Even when it would’ve been new, it wouldn’t have been funny. This had no business appearing in theatres and watching the trailer again reminded me of why I hated it as much as I did. If you suspect you have mutant powers that just need to be unlocked by a traumatic or life-altering event, barricade your doors and start playing this movie. You’ll want to escape so desperately, you might suddenly develop the ability to bend space and time.

6. Rambo: Last Blood

This 5th entry in the Rambo series didn’t even have the guts to commit to being a proper conclusion. The titular character appears to succumb to his wounds as the picture closes… only to get up and go find medical attention during the end credits. Senselessly gory and violent, its depiction of Mexico leaves a bad taste in your mouth.

5. Shaft

No one was asking for this movie, not even fans of the original Richard Roundtree films or the 2000 Sam Jackson reboot. It tired story attempts to introduce a new version of the classic blaxploitation character to a new audience. In the process, it makes you hate the two “heroes” we follow through a generic plot filled with offensive humor. The only good thing about Shaft is that it prompted me to check out the originals.

3. My People, My Country

The Farewell made me think a lot about how we should view other cultures, particularly China. In it, Awkwafina’s Billi is caught in a moral dilemma when she learns her beloved grandmother is dying and that her family is keeping the secret from sweet Nai Nai. You go in thinking the American-raised woman is going to do the right thing by tearing the charade apart but it’s not long before you realize this scenario isn't that simple. When it comes to My People, My Country, I am going to judge. What’s the moral of this movie again? Give up your life, your dreams, your family for the sake of a country that sees you as nothing more than an expandable pion? If that weren’t bad enough, the movie’s so dull it’ll be an epic struggle to stay awake. Whose idea was it to have an entire segment of this anthology dedicated to the engineers who ensured the mechanism that would raise China’s flag in 1949? It’s as exciting as it sounds.

2. ¡Ay, mi madre!

The worst part of this list is that I know how few people reading will be able to relate. ¡Ay, mi madre! wasn't released theatrically in North America, but movies release “Straight to Netflix” have become such a big deal I’ll make an exception to my usual rule of disqualifying direct-to movies from this list. In terms of filmmaking, this is the worst movie I’ve seen in a long, long time. It’s more technically inept than anything else on this list by far. The comedy is so unfunny it’ll make you question your life, the actors are not convincing even before they open their mouths to speak and the ending might as well be a big middle finger towards the people watching. It ha no ending, almost as if they cobbled together the few salvageable strands of footage someone scooped out of the trash into something vaguely related to “coherent”. Remember the name so you know never to click “play” if you happen upon it like I did.

The Runner-Ups

Simmba

I was deeply offended by this Bollywood film but technically, it’s a 2018 movie so I decided to only include it here. It’s loathsome but admittedly, my hatred for it has somewhat subsided since I saw it. Don’t ask me why. This movie sucks.

Playmobil The Movie

This is what we thought we were going to get when they announced “The Lego Movie”. Terrible songs, a lazy plot that makes terrible use of the property it’s advertising, unfunny jokes, and a lack of imagination guarantee this film is destined to make everyone involved regret the day it was released.

Hellboy

Yet another failed superhero movie that enthusiastically sets itself up for a sequel when it’s so obvious to everyone watching that there isn’t going to be one. The one thing it’s got going for it is a pretty cool scene towards the end where demons escape into our world and begin tearing civilians to pieces. To get to that, you must sit through endless scenes that bash you over the head with a mallet marked “Rated R”. Gallons of blood and intestines spilling onto the floor, doesn’t mean the movie is meant for adults. This was written by a teenager disguised as a grown-up.

Gemini man

They waited all these years for the de-aging technology to get where it is now… for this story? Someone should’ve pointed out to director Ang Lee when he was getting ready to film that training doesn’t alter your DNA. Why waste millions cloning Will Smith when you could just raise a normal kid and train them to be an assassin? Ultimately, the movie isn’t really all that bad. It’s watchable but it’s such a big disappointment it needs to be taught a lesson.

Replicas

I’m giving this one a break because no one saw it. I also think it’ll play better at home, where you’ll be free to make fun of it or verbally abuse the loopy plot aloud while your friends listen. If there’s a movie this year that was “So bad it’s good”, it’s this one.

After

At least “Twilight” had its original take on vampires and some danger mixed into its romantic triangle to keep things theoretically interesting. This film started off as - I kid you not - a “One Direction” fan-fic. The drama it serves up will have you howling like a werewolf flying through laughing gas. On the upside, a sequel is coming. In fact, the teaser is scheduled for today!

1. Unplanned

This was the most uncomfortable movie experience of 2019. Most of the Christian propaganda films don’t seem to put much effort into their production - they’re preaching to the choir so why should they? - but 2019 had Breakthrough, which was quite good. It showed these movies don’t have to appeal solely to the churches who will buy tickets en-masse. This movie is ridiculous, gory like a horror film, misleading, and phony. It did have what is undoubtedly the most outrageous and unintentionally funny dialogue of the year, however. “Fast food outlets look to break even on the hamburgers they sell. That’s all they do is break even ... Do you know where they make all their money? The french fries and soda. Low cost, high margin items. Abortion is our fries-and-soda.” Are we sure this was based on a true story? If so, I don’t know why the director decided to edit out the scenes in which Cheryl (Robia Scott) takes the buckets of aborted fetuses home to cook them. I think it would’ve really driven home how evil her character is. I felt dirty sitting in the theater next to people who ate this up.

[redorblue]

Gloomy personal stuff

(trigger warnings for pet death, and death in general)

I’ve never done this before, so this feels a bit weird, but writing helps me get order into my thoughts, so here goes. My family’s cat is very sick (we think it’s a stroke), and once my parents can go see the vet tomorrow, it’s quite likely that he’ll have to be euthanized. It’s not exactly out of the blue, he’s 16 years old and he’s been chronically ill for almost two years, which was manageable until now, but when he was diagnosed the vet said that it’ll eventually be too much for his system, and it looks like that time is now. I moved out of my parents’ apartment (where he lives) a couple years ago, and he’s never been an overly social cat to begin with, so for most of the past few years, I haven’t seen him much. I went over to cat-sit a few times when my parents were away, which was always great, and I love him, but he hasn’t been a part of my daily life for a while.

So much for the situation. It all seems very sad, but - and here’s the thing - I don’t feel it. The thought of him not being there anymore when I come over on sundays for breakfast is a bit weird, but that’s it. I was pretty sure I genuinely love my cat, but now that he’s dying, I don’t feel grief, and judging from past experience, I won’t in the future - I’ll just accept it as my new reality and move on. The thing that upsets me most in all of this is that I don’t seem to care, which feels incredibly self-centered. I know (from watching other people, not from my own experience) that grief is not exactly an enjoyable emotion, so I guess I should be glad that I get to skip that part, deal with this rationally and move on. But it makes me wonder about myself.

On the one hand, it makes me wonder whether I actually do/did love the people (including animals) that I thought I loved. Stories of whatever kind always tell you that grief reflects the love you felt for someone, that the pain means it was real and some such. Which sounds like it might actually help people deal with the death of a loved one, but I’m not one of those people. To me, these messages don’t say “see your grief as an expression of your love”, but “you didn’t love them properly”, and that... doesn’t help. I find it hard (and unneccessary) to differentiate between different kinds of love, so what I felt for my cat, and my grandmother before that, feels very similar to what I feel for my family and close friends. I didn’t grieve for my grandmother when she died two years ago, and I’m not grieving now, even though a pet is about as easy to love as it gets and my grandmother helped raise me and we had a very good relationship. So if I go by those messages I get from stories, that means, I didn’t love them enough, or right, or something, and that in turn means that I don’t love anybody right. And that’s not great.

Which brings me to my second point: it makes me wonder why I am like this. I’ve come up with three options so far. Option no. 1: I’m just very good at repressing emotions. Again, no experience in that field (as far as I know), but I feel like there should be some clue that I’m repressing things, some negative energy within me or whatever. I think I know myself pretty well, and I just don’t see any signs that I’m repressing anything, so if that is in fact the case, I should probably get a world record for that. Option no. 2: I’m a sociopath. The problem with that one is that there is a lot of conflicting information on that on the internet, and most of it is negative, so I only have a very basic definition of what that word actually means. I know that I don’t have much empathy, but what I do have is compassion - which, as I understand it, is the cognitive equivalent to empathy as an emotional response. I don’t cry when I watch a report about some disaster, but I recognize that those people are in a situation that they didn’t deserve to get into, and based on that I want to help. So depending on the definition of sociopathy you use, it might fit, but only if it includes the fact that a person can still have a moral compass and try to be a good person, regardless of whether their feelings make them act that way or their minds. Option no. 3: My brain is just wired differently with regards to emotions. This one is probably the correct one, but also pretty vague, so... not very helpful. Certainly not one that you can just google in order to find advice or people with the same experiences, and that’s kinda why I perceive my lack of grief as a problem in the first place: because I feel like I should react differently. Like I’m not normal (in a bad way), or, to put it bluntly, lacking. Which only strengthens the guilt I feel about not grieving, because this is what I’m hung up on, not the death of my beloved cat, or a beloved family member before that. And then I get back to the question of why, and on it goes.

If anyone has made it until here, just to be clear, I don’t need a pep talk, so you don’t have to feel like you should react to this. I talked things through with my roommate, and she’s very good at that, so I’m fine. She also said that no one ever talks about this kind of thing although there must be people who feel the same way, so I guess that’s what I’m doing - putting it out there, and getting my thoughts in order in the process.

[lets-break-free-from-our-chains]

“Your Mother Loved You, Evangeline.”

A/N: Alright people! Its definitely has been a hot minute, and I will be the first one to admit to that. Couple of things had been going on. My father recently pass away at the very end of march and I’ve dealing with severe depression and anxiety. My doctor, however, find meds that work for me and I have felt significantly better. I think I ready to dive back into my writing again. Lol, anyways this can be considered a one-shot but really it’s a small piece of the whole. This will be a Multi part story. though I don’t know how me parts yet.

SUMMARY: Eve confiding in her shadow-mate, Alec Lightwood, about her insecurities and doubts concerning her mother(Celine)’s true feelings towards her; Jocelyn and Imogen erase said doubts, and afterwards Eve finds that a new and more deep true love has begun to blossom for her biological mother.

Warning(s): Major Sadness in the beginning and middle, Possible trigger; so read at your own risk, Major fluff and love in the 3rd and final part of the story, Alec being a real cheeseball for his mate, Alec is his own warning.

BETTER MORE DETAILED SUMMARY WHEN I RELEASE OC’S BIO/DESCRIPTION!!! This Multi-Part story will be about The City of Bones Movie(2013) Alec lightwood/OC(Evangeline Josephine Herondale-Fray) and will later on in the story be known as Evangeline Josephine Herondale-Lightwood. Eve is one of the two Herondale Children who were both thought lost and worst but mostly likely dead. Raised from the time she was 2 to 18 years old by her Godmother, Jocelyn Fray, Eve Fray is a girl who knows her true identify as a Herondale but has been warned since she was little that revealing her identify could lead to her death and the death of everyone she loves. The only other person who has any inkling of who she truly is, is her Shadow-mate Alec Lightwood. With the new discovery of her shadow-mate; the stakes have risen to impossible heights, and she’ll do anything to save him from the dangerous path she’s been given no choice to run on. AU!The Mortal Instruments where every Shadowhunter is born with their shadow-mates name placed on their bodies.

DISCLAIMER: I ABSOLUTELY ADORE MALEC! I am in no way homophobic! I am actually apart of the LGBTQ myself! This is just one of the many stories from my imagination that I have decided to share with everyone, that also have a passion for reading and writing. Also, I mean come on! Both versions of Alec Lightwood are fucking hot! Don’t say you haven’t thought of him like that at least one time! anyways, ENJOY!

Word Count: 2670

Eve clung to Alec's shirt like a child while crying. Alec had moved them to their shared bedroom where he knew Eve would feel less vulnerable. Alec knew if there was one thing his mate hated most; it was the feeling of vulnerability. She continued to cry and cling to him as they laid on the king sized bed, and every wail released into the air by his inconsolable mate, was like pythons wrapping themselves around Alec's heart. Each one physically hurt him as Alec couldn't bare to see his mate in such distress. He tightened his muscular arms around her protectively as she calmed herself enough to speak.

"Why did she give me away to Jocelyn like that, I mean did she finally decide she didn't want me?" Eve hiccupped into Alec's, broad leather covered, chest. "Did she not love me enough or at all for that matter?"

Eve felt pained yet relieved as soon as she said it. Almost like a giant burden, bigger than she originally thought, was lifted off her chest. Alec buried his face in her golden mane while pulling her even closer, if that was possible at all. A sudden, familiar feminine, voice startled both the young adults.

"She loved you so much she had to let you go. No matter how much it pained her, and believe me it pained her, greatly." Jocelyn spoke, gently. "If it wasn't the circle member's blade that killed her first; then it was without a doubt her broken heart, from losing her beloved Evangeline, that killed her."

Eve began to sit up while wiping away her tears and Alec followed suit in sitting up while rubbing her back, comfortingly. She noticed, her grandmother, Imogen by Jocelyn's side, wearing a tender sympathic expression. Eve threw a sad confused look towards them both, "What do you mean, Joc?"

Jocelyn sighed, softly, while looking at the floor, "May we come in?", she spoke, as she looked back up. Alec and Eve both nodded their consent before both women entered the room, slowly, and Jocelyn took a seat on the left end of the bed while Imogen to the right. Imogen laid her hand on Eve's lower leg and stroked it comfortingly while Jocelyn proceeded to tell her what exactly happened.

"The night Valentine planned to attack Herondale Manor," She began, while Alec and Eve listened intently. "I accidentally overheard him talking to Blackthorn and Pangborn an hour or so beforehand about his plans and when exactly he planned to head towards Herondale Manor. He planned to raid the house for information, kill Celine, and kidnap you and your unborn brother." She stopped short, and made a small indistinctive noise while cocking her head to the side and slightly shaking it. As if she was uncomfortable with her thoughts.

Jocelyn looked slightly sick as she spoke the next sentence, "He planned to kill your mother and cut your baby brother from her womb, and said that you if were more trouble than you were worth than he would kill you and make do with only your brother use." Alec and Eve couldn't stop the loud gasps and looks of horror and shock that crossed their faces while Jocelyn nodded in agreement. Alec instinctively pulled Eve closer at the thought of any danger to his mate; past, present, or future. Everyone looked at Imogen as she made a inaudible strangled noise in the back of her throat and pushed her shoulders down and back. All while wearing a pained expression. Jocelyn looked more intently to Imogen, who still looked in pain, but never the less waved her hand for Jocelyn to continue.

Jocelyn turned back to Eve and looked her in the eyes. "Both of you, brace yourself, because the story will only because more horrifying and grievous." Both young adults nodded and Jocelyn continued, "Valentine had already sent a few circle members to Herondale manor to hold Celine and you captive until Valentine got there. I realized that if I left right then than I could beat Valentine to Herondale Manor and possibly save all three of you before more circle members arrived. So I rushed to the Manor and when I got there I saw that the members Valentine sent ahead were already there. all of them were dead, except two as the thought didn't occur to them that even if Celine was 8 months pregnant there might still be a fight." Eve smiled slightly at that before Jocelyn continued on; "One of them had accidentally stabbed her and she was losing blood fast. too fast. I don't know where the other two had run off too. Most likely afraid of the repercussions by Valentine for the mistake they made. I found her in your destroyed nursery laying on the floor right next to your crib." Both Eve and Jocelyn eyes were tearing up and Eve's hand tightened on Alec's without realizing. While Alec and Imogen could do nothing, looking between the two women before them, sadly.

Jocelyn cleared her throat; "I found her laying right next to your crib and you...you were crying. Screaming bloody murder, are better yet more bitter words to describe your cries. Crying and screaming so hard you had crocodile tears pouring down your cheeks and your face was a shade of bright red I'd never seen before. They say first love's heartbreak is the worst heartbreak. Those people don't know what they're talking about. Not for one second." Jocelyn lets out a short quiet sob as silent tears roll down everyone's faces. "Nothing breaks your heart like hearing a babe wail and scream for their dying mother, and if that sight wasn't enough to knock all the air out of my lungs. Then, the sight of her bloody hand reached through the bars of your crib to hold your tiny hand while singing your favorite lullaby, was enough to do so." Eve shut her eyes as tears rapidly slid down her face, and her body violently shook. 

"Your mother was minutes or less away from dying and the only thing she cared about was making your pain and crying stop. Once I reached her side she looked up at me and begged me to take you and Clary, who I was still pregnant with at the time, and runaway to safety. So Valentine could never use either of you for his own personal ambitions. It was her dying wish that, as your godmother, I did everything in my power to keep you; alongside Clary, completely safe from Valentine." Jocelyn, who was still crying, looked Eve in the eyes.

 "I pulled you from the crib and put you in your mother's arms one last time, and you stopped crying long enough for your mother to say her last words to you. Her last words were; ‘I love you and your brother more than anything in the world. You are the reason I haven't flung myself from one of the demon towers by now. Out of all the hard moments I've lived through in my life; the hardest moment would without a doubt be, the moment I realized I could do nothing to stop the fact that the angel has given me no say or choice in leaving you all alone in the world. My Evangeline, you and your brother are the only things I’ve ever done right in this world. I love you...Goodbye, my Evangeline.’ A few Moments later she died with you in her arms. I knew the exact moment she died because it was she same moment you began to scream again. I knew I had to stay quite a few steps ahead of Valentine, so I took you from Celine's arms and said my farewells. The farther I got away from your mother the harder and louder you began to wail, if that was even possible." Finally, Jocelyn voice broke on the last sentence. Eve turned into Alec and buried her face in his chest, balling her eyes out. The only thing muffling her harsh cries being his chest as he held her close and buried his face in her seemingly endless locks.

"Your mother loved you, Evangeline. You were enough for her. You were wanted, more than anything else in the world, by your Mother. It wasn't the circle, the academy, her friends, or your father that kept her going as long as she did. It was you and when your baby brother was conceived. It was you and him who kept her going. Nothing and no one else. Just you and him." Jocelyn smiled through her tears at Eve. "Never again doubt your mother's love, want, or need for you. That's one of the few things in your life you will never have to question under any circumstances.

She finally pulled away from Alec's chest and looked at Jocelyn and Imogen. Eve's cheeks, nose, and eyes were bright red, but somehow she still managed to appear angelic in beauty. "Thank you Jocelyn, and Thank you Grandmother. I know it doesn't look like it but I do feel better now that my previous doubts are now a thing of the past." Eve pulled away from Alec to hug both of them, spending a few moments longer in her grandmother's warm embrace. She pulled away and immediately moved back into Alec arms. Jocelyn and Imogen moved to leave the room, but before Imogen closed the door she turned3 to Eve and spoke; "OH, and if you want to hear some more stories about you and your mother or you and I that are more uplifting; come see me. I’ll always be happy to tell you a story.

"Grandmother, how many stories can you have? I was two and a half when I left." Eve laughed, and playfully rolled her eyes. Imogen looked at Eve in mild disbelief of her question, mouth ajar and her right poised and defined eyebrow arched.

"Your joking, aren't you? Little angel, you may have only been in this world two and a half, but believe me when I say you are your father's daughter. Combine that with the bull headed trait you got from your mother, and that's a recipe for some good stories about you and mischief managed escapades." Imogen nodded her head once, firmly, and Alec sniggered before replying to Imogen.

"I think I'll be coming to your office more often to hear some of those stories, Inquisitor."

Imogen smiled at him, "Please, your my little angel's shadow mate and will soon enough be married to her with my great grandchildren on the way, call me Imogen. I insist." Alec looked surprised and at a loss of words for a moment before he cleared his throat and gave a soft smile.

"You honor me. Thank you, Imogen." Imogen smiled in return and pivoted on the heels of her feet before closing the door and making her way down the hall.

Eve sat in a daze for a moment before getting off the bed and crossing the room to her vanity. She sat down in the vanity chair, and looked in the mirror with her eyes unfocused. Her mother truly did love and want her. Her mother’s last words would forever be burned into her mind. That one sentence, though. 'My Evangeline, you and your brother were the only things I ever did right in this world.' My Evangeline. My Evangeline. My Evangeline. That's what her mother called her. Her Evangeline. Eve could only imagine how sweet the words would sound and the way the words would fall from her mother's lips. 

Her mother is probably the only person she would ever one hundred percent be okay with calling her by her full first name. It's not that she doesn't like her name. She actually finds it quite beautiful, but when she was little all the kids would tease her for having such a old fashioned, and uncommon for the area they lived in, name. Well, Eve would pick having the name Evangeline Josephine any day over being the 10th Tyler or Jake of her grade level. At least, Eve would know when the teacher was addressing her and not some half-wit on the other side of the room in the middle of picking their nose with a green crayon.

she used to hate when people would call her by her full first name. However, now the one thing she's desires most in the world at the moment is to hear her mother say those two words. My Evangeline. Her Evangeline. Eve still stuck in her daydream sighed, deeply. She soon enough came back to reality, and her line of vision focused once more. She focused on her reflection in the vanity mirror and took in her current state.

She gently touch the puffy area around her nose and golden eyes before running her hands through her ample amount of long loose curls, and dropping them on the vanity table that seemed to be overflowing with make up and hair care products. Eve heard movement behind her and looked up in the mirror to see Alec making his way over to her. He came right up behind her, and tenderly grabbed her shoulders. He massaged said shoulders while speaking;

"I seriously don't know how you so effortlessly do it, but you grow more beautiful, sexy, and strong everyday. My beautiful strong sexy mate." His full lips, lovingly kissed the crown of her head. Thank goodness her cheeks were already red that way she didn't have to show her blush. However, even if her blush didn't give her away the almost bashful look on her face and the slight duck of her head while casting her eyes to the side did the trick. She normally would flirt back with Alec but in her state with the puffy red eyes and nose and all the vulnerability she's felt for the pass few days, who wouldn't have a shy response to such a bold flirtatious comment.

Alec didn't have to flirt with her especially now that they completed the mate ceremony and placed the forever binding mating runes on each other, but it still felt good to know he enjoyed flirting with her because he found her beautiful and sexy. Nothing feels as good as knowing your true shadow-mate still finds you as beautiful and sexy as the first time he met you and is willing to put in the extra effort. Eve played off the shy moment by turning around in the chair, and kneeled in the seat while, ever so lightly, brushing her fingers up his strong arms to wrap her arms around his strong and broad shoulders. Alec wrapped his arms around her waist and pressed her body flush against his.

"Why, I didn't know I had such a cheeseball for a mate." Eve giggled. Alec smiled, sweetly and laughed,

"You thought that was cheesy? Well then, allow me to sweep you off your feet, future Mrs. Lightwood." Eve, playfully, 'oohhh' at challenge with interest. Alec picked her up and rested her legs around his waist.

"You are the most gorgeous." Eve gasped, "The most adorably cute." Eve gasped, again. " The most insanely intelligent." she gasped, loudly, once more. "the most Desirably sexy." she let out a pleased noise. "Strong independent woman any man with half a brain could ask for." Eve gasped the loudest out of all the ones she gave before replying, "oh, I love it when you talk dirty to me, baby!" 

Alec threw his head back as he laughed before speaking; "Yeaaahhh." He drawls out, in a sexy voice, "And your all mine." he growled out possessively before 'attacking' her neck. Eve gave a content 'mmhmm' in agreement as he laid them both on the bed and proceed to snuggle one another. 

The past few days for Eve may have been hard, but it was all worth in the end. Moments like these were what made it worth it. Moments with her Alec Lightwood.

[mattness]

Space Dementia

Hi, my dear friends. I got something very good for you. This is the beginning of my sloppy translation of my fanfic that you've been waiting. Sorry for silly mistakes, that meet in the text. I translated alone. So... I hope you enjoy.

OTP: Jennifer Wright/Robert Grey Genres: Romance, Angst, Drama, Detective, Psychology, Hurt/comfort, Humdrum, Horror, AU, Friendship  Summary: She thought she had found salvation in him, but she didn't know she was at the mercy of a horrible monster who had own plans for her. //// Chapter I. 2007, Pennsylvania, Philadelphia Stood may sunny day, heralding a warm summer. The blue sky was absolutely clear and the cool wind was sneaking into the small children's room. The curtains swayed from the easy impulses, sometimes forcing the fifteen-year-old girl to swear. They bothered her to collect items from red chest, who was standing right by the window made it difficult to find something very important and valuable. To find the room was a mess: everywhere littered with toys, crayons and school books interspersed with items of clothing. Now the reigning mess did not bother the hostess of the room at all because she's late. Parents waited in the car, putting before the fact that if is going to take longer than necessary, they will go to  grandmother without her. But the girl couldn't go on the road without his beloved soft toy-bear, which has always been with her almost from the cradle. "Jennifer!" a stern voice was heard from her mother at the foot of the stairs in the corridor. "I'm coming!" shouted in the answer girl, finally finding the necessary and the most expensive thing from the entire his room. She hugged the bear cub tightly and threw her backpack over her shoulders and ran out of the room.

The door to the house slammed, and she enthusiastically jumped into the big blue BMW. Father, glancing in the rearview mirror, smiled at her daughter and started the engine. His wife constantly looking at the clock. She was very unhappy that they were already half an hour late. Dyed hair dark red waves falling on her sharp shoulders, slightly obscuring an oval face, which wore the grimace of discontent. Blue eyes constantly examined the interior of the car, as if not knowing what to stop. The woman pursed her full lips, fingering something in her hands. Little Jennifer always thought her mother was very beautiful, even when she was not in the mood. Although the girl never saw that Mary was happy. As if she's something has long been disappointed and now was upset with the whole world and their own lives. She is always cold treated her daughter like she was her non-native. Unlike Chester, the girl's father. He enjoyed spending time with Jenni, telling stories and tales. The black-haired man always tried to devote time to the daughter. His brown eyes radiated the most sincere love and kindness. This couldn't hide even the glasses, which he began to wear recently. Chester was quiet and peaceful man, he rarely raised his voice at anyone and kept all the anger in yourself. As soon as Mary throw another tantrum, he tried to silently listen to her and understand what was wrong. Probably because of his soldier's endurance and nerves of steel their marriage and Mary has still not disintegrated. Recently, however, the wife began to behave strangely, and something inside tells Chester that he's going to lose her. Jen never meddled with her parents relationship because she thought it was a personal matter. They'll figure it out fine without her help. Moreover, the girl didn't want after her words catching unhappy, angry and full of reproaches her mother's eyes. So now she turned to the window, inserting headphones into her ears to isolate herself from the outside world. Most of all she was like her father. She had the same dark hair, freckled face and neat nose. Plump lips and blue eyes, the girl got from her mother. Character she also largely took over from the father. Jennifer showed kindness and responsiveness, tried never to be rude, but sometimes she's very stubborn. The car moved smoothly from the place, going from Sunny Philadelphia to the North of the country, to the small town of Derry, located in Maine. The road promised to be long. In a way it is necessary to make some stops to fill a tank with gasoline, and also everybody to have a snack and to gain strength for the further road. Jennifer, as she's can remember, every summer went to Derry for two weeks to visit her grandmother. Her house was located closest to the city center, where almost no one was walking. The girl truly did not understand why parents doing this to her every year. No, of course, she loved to chat with her grandmother, who was always in stock a lot of stories. However, Jen continued to not understand parents until she was thirteen. It was then that she realized that all this time they were trying to spend alone with each other and to establish relations. Now at fifteen, sitting in the back seat of the car and vaguely hearing the curses of mother, Jen was really hoping for these two weeks, they will be able to love each other again. But with every trip to Derry for the last three years, she believed it less and less. Plunged into her own thoughts and music in her headphones, Jennifer closed eyes. The car began to seasick her, and the tenacious paws of Morpheus dragged the girl into the sweet realm of dreams.

* * *  "Wake up, sleeping beauty," the gentle whispered of father, and Jen slowly opened her eyes and smiled. “Get up, Jenni. We're in Derry.” The girl nodded in response, getting out of the car and taking the backpack. She looked around, finding herself on the broad street of little Derry. Unlike Philadelphia, here was cloudy weather. The sky was overcast with gray clouds, and the treetops swayed continually in the icy wind. The girl shivered from the cold, deciding quickly to go to grandma's house. No matter how many times Jennifer was in Derry, she never liked it here. First, there was always no one to walk with. She didn't understand why this small and seemingly cozy town, so little children. And young here was a bit. All at once went to the big cities, to enter universities. Nobody wanted to sit in that hole. Jen with confidence can tell that this place is specially created for the elderly like her grandmother. Here, nothing ever happens, everyone knows each other and spread unpleasant gossip. In short, a real village, thought the girl to herself, looking around. "Jenny, go to the house!" shouted grandmother, already meeting its on the threshold of. "Hi, grandma!" Jennifer exclaimed joyfully, rushing into the arms of her beloved Granny. “I miss you. Are you?” "I am also insanely missed you, sweetie," smiled the woman and stroked her granddaughter's dark hair. “You're all grown up, Jen.” “Quit, granny.” "Let's go for a walk today in the supermarket, and then go on the swing?" she chuckled, suggesting a routine ritual she and Jen had always performed. The dark-haired girl nodded in response, paying attention to the parents who had left the house. Mary folded the bag of food they had brought with them into a small black bag. She serious looked around the whole area, as if looking for someone among the trees and bushes. Then the woman turned her attention to her mother Christine, smiling stiffly. "I put all the food in the fridge. Money on your desk, mom," cold said Mary. “If anything happens, call me.” "I know what to do, honey," Christine snorted, hugging Jennifer tightly and smiling at her. “We'll be fine as usual.” At this point, the house was left by Chester, also smiling. He didn't want to leave his daughter for a long time in Derry, because it is unlikely that anything will change in the two weeks of her absence at home: Mary was adamant and seems to be going to file for divorce. The woman approached her daughter, pulling an unnatural smile on her face again. It made Jennifer uncomfortable. She was too used to the stern expression on her mother's face. "Behave yourself, Jennifer," her mother said quietly, patting her cheek with a cold hand. "Bye." "Bye, mom," Jen quietly squeezed out. "Don't let her go anywhere, Mrs. Wheeler," said Chester, crouching on his knees in front of the girl. In the answer she smiled. "I've heard strange things about Derry." "Tales of clowns again, dad?" Jennifer smiled, rolling her eyes. "I don't believe in them. Especially since I spend all my time with grandmother. Too boring here." "It'll be all right, Chester," Mrs. Wheeler assured him. Chester smiled and hugged daughter. She snuggled into him, not wanting to part with him for two long weeks. The man released her and walked to the car where Mary already waiting him. Dad waved to his daughter, sitting in the BMW and starting the engine. Christine and Jen watched as the blue car headed away from Derry, back to Philadelphia. The girl sighed, feeling like every minute longing for the native home, for mom and dad becoming more and more. * * *  In Derry the storm began again. Heavy rain poured outside the window, spoiling Jennifer's mood. Today she wanted to go for a walk with her grandmother around the city again, see all the few sights for the hundredth time and go to the supermarket for groceries. But the stupid rain ruined everything. Somewhere high in the sky lightning flashed, and there was a deafening thunder. In the living room TV for a moment ceased to catch a signal. Grandmother swore loudly, making Jen burst out laughing. Getting up from the sofa, an elderly woman came to the old ruin and knocked. The girl sighed, continuing to listen to her grandmother's curses and look out the window. Drops slowly dripping down the glass, dissolving into each other. The wide road was completely flooded, and the dirty water ran into a small storm drain, which was located at the bottom of the curb. “What's clown, granny?” suddenly Jennifer asked, continuing to mesmerize dark storm drain on the opposite side of the street. “Ah?” surprised grandmother. "Well... Dad said something was going on in Derry. He told me about some clown. Weird fairy tale. I vaguely remember", said girl, frowning. "I was five or seven." "No wonder that you don't remember." Jennifer was immediately distracted from the contemplation of the rain and sat down beside Christine on the couch. Grandma hugged her granddaughter with one hand over his shoulder, the other has lowered the volume on the TV. The woman sighed, sinking into his memories, and slowly start: "This clown appeared here when I was about twenty-five years old. Maybe a little less. It was during this period that children began to disappear. A lot of children are missing, and no one could find them", with each word, the elderly woman went into herself more and more. "The madman who disguised himself as a clown only got caught by the police once. But he escaped. Almost immediately. Many years have passed since then. I was hoping that psycho was dead." "He back in Derry?" cautiously asked Jen. "Yes. And I heard that from you. You told me you saw him waving at you from the bushes." said the grandmother, than scared girl. Suddenly Jennifer was confused, plunging into her own memories…

* * *  In Derry came one of the few sunny summer days, and Jennifer, of course, persuaded her grandmother to go for a walk. They reached the main square, where many people always gathered. On the playground the kids were playing, which was quite a bit. Jen sprinted off to the Playground while her grandmother crouched down to rest after a long road. The left leg was treacherously sick. Jennifer happily jumped on the free swing to the face to trees and bushes, enclosed by an iron grating. There, behind the fence, was a small nature reserve Derry, and there were forbidden to go. On the grid could be seen a yellow plate with the inscription: "Private protected area. For illegal entry - a fine of 1000 $". The swing rose high in the air, and the girl was enjoying this wonderful feeling she flies. Such a clear and blue sky could be reached with your feet, which inspired even more. Seemed, even a bit, and Jennifer indeed going to fly. She fancied herself a bird, until she again turned her attention to the fenced trees. Among the bushes could see something white, and Jen, distracted from their fantasies, tried to see a strange spot. Behind the bars stood a man in a white clown costume. Red buttons-pompons did not look ridiculous, but rather gave a special charm to lush clothes. White collar, the same white makeup on the face and red hair. The lips, painted in red, is immediately stretched in a welcoming smile, it was worth the girl to draw a clown's attention. He waved to the girl, then motioned to him. Jennifer stopped the swing, wondering if she should approach the clown behind bars. The girl frowned and showed the clown a finger, indicating she'd be back in a minute. Clown subtly smiled in anticipation, but that baby hasn't seen. "Grandma, can I go play with the clown?" running up to grandmother, loudly asked Jen. "Which clown?" woman immediately distracted from their crosswords. "Well, he's there, at the gate", she explained and turned to point a finger at the clown, who is there already, of course, was not. "Oh, he's probably gone. Pity!" "Let's go home, Jennifer", frowning and saying no more, her grandmother said sternly, and taking the girl by the hand, led her to the side of the house. The girl turned back, noticing that the clown was standing in the same place. He pouted angrily and wiped the nonexistent tears from his face. Jennifer was confused, thinking, that made the right decision. Otherwise, the grandmother raised the whole district on the ears… * * *  Two weeks visiting the grandma have passed for Jennifer unexpectedly quickly. She always found something to do: read books, in good weather, was walking with his grandmother in the bad watching TV with her, sometimes painted in your album. All the time the girl found something to do, and memories of that stupid meeting with a possible maniac Derry themselves out of my head. Again high in the sky the sun was shining and Jen first heard the birds singing, sitting on the veranda of the house. Grandma took out of the house on a tray of tea and cookies. The girl smiled at her when she sat down opposite and began to tell another story from his life. Christine traveled around the world a lot and saw a lot of things. She always had the opportunity to go from Derry to some metropolis to live in luxury, but she still remained in this backwater. Jennifer couldn't understand her. To which grandma replied that after many years Jen will understand it. Suddenly the girl was distracted from the story grandmother, noticing how the house is approached from afar the familiar blue BMW. Jen was confused, because parents usually pick her up on Sunday, and today was only Friday. Grandmother also drew attention to the car, which has already stopped near the house. For wheel as and always was Chester. He turned off the engine and got out of the car. Jen instantly fell from her seat, running towards her father with cheers. Chester picked up the girl in his arms, kissing her on the cheek and squeezed. "Why are you here so early?" Jennifer was surprised, already being on the ground. "I'll tell you everything, kitten. But first I need to talk to your grandmother", calmly replied the father, and together they went to the house. "Mrs. Wheeler, can I have a word?" "Sure, Chester." smiled woman, rising and heading for the kitchen. The man followed her, asking Jen to sit in the living room. Girl nodded in response, not knowing what happened. Dad rarely talked to his grandmother about something serious, she thought to herself. And it usually didn't bode well. Jennifer frowned, including TV and starting to look for something interesting among a long list of channels. After a few minutes, the adults came back from the kitchen, and Jen immediately noticed how gloomy grandmother. It was as if she was plunged into some bad memories from her life, which made the girl feel uncomfortable. All her attention turned to father, who sat opposite her. "Jennifer, listen to me carefully", quietly asked Chester, hard sighing. Girl sat down on the edge of the sofa with her hands folded in her lap. She was preparing to hear anything, if only not very bad. But severe and focused expression of papa's face she understood that it happened something serious. And it hit him really hard. Because he has always the cheerful face, but now it showing no emotion. "Your mom... She left." dad started gently, and her eyes immediately glistened with tears. "We're divorced, sweetheart." "Where she left?" sobbed Jen. “I don’t know”, Chester shrugged his shoulders in confusion. "She's coming back, right? Yes, dad?" no longer holding back tears, hoping girl asked. "I don't think so, Jenni." Christine, who was watching them, sighed. Heart sank in pain, desperately trying to understand why her daughter left her family. The woman herself was ready to cry, seeing as Jen snuggled up to daddy. Inside the girl something painfully broke, and instead of love to the mother, which and so it was always cold, had formed a black abyss of hatred.

[douxreviews]

Star Trek III: The Search for Spock (1984) Review

Kirk: "The needs of the one outweighed the needs of the many."

Fans refer to this movie as "The search for a plot", and yes, they have a point. The Search for Spock suffers from the high crime (or possibly just a misdemeanor) of being the middle movie in a trilogy, a bridge between the outstanding Wrath of Khan and the outstanding Voyage Home.

And yet, I realized during my rewatch that this is not a bad movie. There's a lot to like about it.

It's great fun to see the characters we love pulling off a starship heist. And like The Wrath of Khan, this movie features a major upsetting death, and I'm not talking about poor David, a good character who met a pointless (or pointy) end. It was the death of Enterprise herself. I can remember the first time I saw this movie, the destruction of our beloved ship really got to me. It echoed the theme of loss and rebirth in The Wrath of Khan.

But (and you knew there was a 'but' in there) as much as I love Spock, and I love him so very very much, bringing him back from the dead after killing him off so spectacularly was just a little bit wrong. So was retconning the beautiful, symbolically pure Genesis planet into a hopelessly screwed up mess. It was sad that it was all David's fault for using 'protomatter', as if they were giving the writers a reason for killing him off, although it did work as a device to make Spock's body age somewhat believably. If they hadn't started with regenerated Spock as a child, the other option would have been Vulcan zombies, and we can't have that. And I liked that Genesis turned into a "galactic controversy" because in real life, it would absolutely happen. It was interesting and somewhat disturbing that Starfleet was being just a little bit Gestapo about the whole thing.

But (and you knew there was another one a'comin') the fact that Vulcans had mind-meldable transferrable souls had never been mentioned before. You'd think that in all the years Spock served in Star Fleet, his comrades would have known that, just in case something happened to him. You'd think that Saavik, who was right there at the funeral, would have mentioned it in passing in between bars of "Amazing Grace." Okay, it was a fun plot point having Spock, already a divided being, with a disconnected body and soul to put together. But it did sort of come out of nowhere.

It was a cool plot point that the recovery of Spock was tied to saving McCoy as well. (Imagine if Kirk had lost Spock, McCoy and David all at the same time.) Loved DeForest Kelley mimicking Leonard Nimoy, up to and including an attempt at a Spock pinch. And of course, it was lovely in the end seeing Spock repeat his own dying words to Kirk: "The ship. Out of danger?" And Kirk giving him that "Needs of the one" response.

There were other bits that I loved, too. Even in his overwhelming grief over David, Kirk kept thinking and planning, very in character. The way he finally lost it with Kruge is still satisfying, not matter how many times I've seen it. "I... have had... enough... of YOU." One of my favorite bits was Scott, Sulu and Chekov trying to figure out the Klingon controls of the Bird of Prey, too, also wonderfully in character. And the self-destruct sequence was virtually identical to the same scene in "Let That Be Your Last Battlefield."

So it's not The Empire Strikes Back. The Search for Spock got us where we needed to go. Good enough.

Casting bits:

-- Merritt Butrick (David Marcus) also appeared in an episode of Next Gen. And he died way too young.

-- It seemed a bit cheap of them to redo the Genesis presentation because they didn't want to pay Bibi Besch. Seriously. What happened to Carol Marcus? She wasn't even mentioned.

-- Christopher Lloyd did his usual good job as Kruge, a slimy Klingon who (of course) had a slimy dog.

-- Dame Judith Anderson played Vulcan matriarch T'Pau... excuse me, T'Lar. And with jarringly bright lipstick and and way too obvious eyeliner that I just couldn't see a Vulcan matriarch wearing.

-- Robin Curtis got the difficult job of replacing Kirstie Alley as Saavik, plus she had to talk about pon farr, too. I remember wondering at some point if she had remembered to bring her birth control to the Genesis planet.

-- We got a glimpse of Janice Rand (Grace Lee Whitney) at the space station.

-- And we got Sarek! And he even mentioned his lineage -- son of Skon, son of Salkar. I thought Vulcan society was matriarchal?

-- Five actors played Spock. And Leonard Nimoy directed.

Bits and pieces:

-- Star date 8210.3. We visited Earth, the Federation Science Vessel Grissom (which was destroyed), Enterprise (which was destroyed), Excelsior (which was screwed up), the Genesis planet (which was destroyed) and Vulcan. Which ... I'll shut up now.

-- Why a red alert if there were only five of them on the entire ship?

-- Why didn't Uhura get to go along and nearly die, too?

-- McCoy went to a shady bar full of freaky aliens to hire a ship. I don't know why they didn't just call the place "Mos Eisley."

-- The Excelsior with its new transwarp drive was introduced, but all we saw was it failing.

-- Why did Sulu decide on a Peter Pan cape as a fashion accessory? Only marginally worse was Chekov's shirt, which I bet came from the Little Lord Fauntleroy collection.

-- If Mount Seleya is the only place for a Vulcan's soul to go, you'd think it'd be a very busy place.

-- This movie is surprisingly quotable. So there's that.

Quotes:

Kirk: "It seems I have left the noblest part of myself back there on that newborn planet."

Kirk: "Have you always multiplied your repair estimates by a factor of four?" Scott: "Certainly, sir. How else can I keep my reputation as a miracle worker?" This is one of my favorite Star Trek quotes ever.

Kirk: "My friends, the great experiment: The Excelsior. Ready for trial runs." Sulu: "She's supposed to have transwarp drive." Scott: "Aye. And if my grandmother had wheels, she'd be a wagon."

Kirk: "If there's even a chance that Spock has an immortal soul, it's my responsibility. Just as surely as if it were my own."

Alien with huge ears: "Oh, Mutara restricted! Take permits many, money more." McCoy: "There aren't going to be any damned permits! How can you get a permit to do a damned illegal thing? Look, price you name, money I got." Alien with huge ears: "Place you name, money I name, otherwise bargain, nooooo." McCoy: "All right, dammit! It's Genesis! The name of the place we're going is Genesis!" Alien with huge ears: "Genesis?" McCoy: "Yes, Genesis! How can you be deaf with ears like that?"

Kirk: (showing the Vulcan salute) "How many fingers do I have up?" McCoy: "That's not very damn funny."

Kirk: "You're suffering from a Vulcan mind meld, doctor." McCoy: "That green-blooded son of a bitch! It's his revenge for all the arguments he lost."

Elevator voice: "Level, please." Scott: "Transporter room." Elevator voice: "Thank you." Scott: "Up your shaft."

Scott: "All systems automated and ready. A chimpanzee and two trainees could run her." Kirk: "Thank you, Mr. Scott. I'll try not to take that personally."

Scott: "The more they overthink the plumbing, the easier it is to stop up the drain."

Kirk: "Gentlemen, your work today has been outstanding and I intend to recommend you all for promotion. In whatever fleet we end up serving."

McCoy: "His mind is a void. It seems, Admiral, that I've got all his marbles."

Kirk: "Klingon Commander, this is Admiral James T. Kirk. I'm alive and well on the planet surface. I know that this will come as a pleasant surprise to you. But our ship was a victim of an unfortunate accident. Sorry about your crew, but as we say on Earth, c'est la vie."

Kirk: "You! Help us or die!" Maltz: "I do not deserve to live!" Kirk: "Fine. I'll kill you later."

Three out of four of Spock's marbles,

Billie Doux loves good television and spends way too much time writing about it.

[dungeonsdragonsdemonsdaggers]

Save The Gnomes PART 1

A record of our very first adventure! 

Important things to note: there are 6 people total, 5 of us have never played D&D before and those same 5 are girls. Our Dungeon Master is the only male of the group and the only one who really knows how to play. It might seem that these details are unimportant- WRONG. This dynamic made this game SO MUCH FUN and you will see why😎

The Very Brave, Very Inexperienced, Very Excited Adventurers:

Aravae: Half-Elf, Bard (Her flaw is that she can't resist a pretty face😂, she sings a lot)

Fizzy: Rock Gnome, Rogue (Very independent, so independent we lost her in the beginning of the campaign)

Norda: Gnome, Ranger (Most likely to succeed, likes buying weapons)

Quelenna Naïlo: Moon Elf, Druid (Serene in all circumstances, even when the person playing her is definitely not, hates being stabbed)

Torgga of Battlehammer: Dwarf, Fighter (Drinks a lot, enjoys starting fights and occasionally misses sessions)

SESSION 1

Somehow we all end up in Stevo's Tavern; Stevo is a nice dude, knows a lot about the surrounding areas- because people go to the Tavern a lot (obvi). People are coming in & out; 3 halflings, some miners, twins named Tor'Vopp & Elsha, etc. I did not catch that the two twins had names and that they were in fact twins in this session. In fact, only one of us did and I'm pretty sure it was Norda... Anyways. We are all awkwardly trying to get to know each other's characters and establish relationships of trust. I'm (Lenna) having a hard time doing it because for me- my mentor told me not to trust gnomes, I didn't think my Elf would like the Half-Elf and that's almost the whole crew. So I'm trying to find reasons to trust them.

Long story short:

Three Duergar walk in, Torgga is drunk as and decides to, ya know, punch a dude in the face.

While she was doing that the Bard was singing to make money, I was trying to befriend the Bard, the Gnomes were talking to people in the bar, etc.

Fighting breaks out and we all decide to help this crazy dwarf lady~! She's getting her but kicked and I'm an elf so I'm using magic to fight these ugly things AND I GET STABBED 👿 (I was so upset with the DM because I thought he was gonna kill me before we even had an adventure😂)

We scare them off, we rest to heal, and the session ends

SESSION 2

Lenna backstory: a holy oak tree (it's bonzai size) was stolen from my forest and I must get it back to restore sacred balance~ Norda backstory: She found a demon, I think, in the forest- killed it and has a strange collar and bag. Aravae backstory: Her grandmother has sent her a wand of great importance, but it was stolen and she is trying to find it.

The adventure picks up right after the bar fight. The group meets up outside of the tavern to discuss joining up to meet their individual goals.

We feel bad for Stevo and his inn (we caused a lot of damage...) So we talk to him and give him some money

A distressed gnome comes running through the door and goes straight to Norda. Her daughter's gone missing in some dark place under the library in the nearby Gnome village. We're pretty much BFFs now so we ALL go with Norda to save this girl (her name is Weebee).

Lo and behold! Tor'Vopp is in the library, arguing with Weebee's dad about how it isn't possible for her to be lost. Tor'Vopp is good looking ish so we've lost Ara😂 But we bully him into letting us go and look for the girl WITHOUT HIS HELP

We follow a trail of blue pebbles Weebee has left behind, and we are in a dark humongous old underground Elvish-type place. Hallways, rooms, stuff everywhere. WE RUN INTO QUASITS; Demons. We capture one and Ara puts him to sleep with a spell. Session ends.

SESSION 3

Quasit wakes up and tries to escape, we capture it again and Torgga slams him in the head with a hammer.

We continue looking for the little gnome girl and we find her! She had run out of pebbles and hid herself with a little bit of her own magic. Aravae, using her charisma, convinces Weebee to show her self and trust us.

I’m pretty sure at this point some of us were desperate to get out, and some of us were eager to explore~ I myself was really wanting to get out real quick and in the end that’s what we decided to do.

Fizzy elects to stay behind and we leave her~ that’s the last time we saw her. We assume she went on her own quest to the underdark.

We run into a Quasit being eaten by a Darkmantle, and find that our exit is being blocked by a bunch of Kobolds. We make a quick escape plan using prestidigitation to make some fake gold and some lucky rolls of the dice. It works and we book it out of there with Weebee on my back!

Kobolds notice the gold was a lie and are super angry! But we made it out anyways~ heehee

We interrogate the Quasit, not believing it when it tells them “the cage won’t let me tell the truth”, Ara speaks to it in Abyssal which helps a lot. It’s name is Scratchscab.  We learn that “Keevop” puts collars on Quasits after his sister pulls them into this realm.  They are happy when they arrive because they think they can wreak havoc and have evil fun, but they are unable to move, get a collar put on them that somehow does stuff to them through the use of what Scratchscab calls “a fat twig” (we think for sure it’s Ara’s missing wand).

The Quasit gives us directions to a secret place and we all head there; his directions are crazy and freaky btw.

We find a defiled, ashen, dying patch of land 50 feet wide. We spend an hour digging and it’s Torgga who, digging into the gross, ichor-riddled ground, finds the holy oak bonsai; my beloved holy oak! It’s obviously in awful condition and I’m freaking out so I take it and immediately start to head home. Well, when I’m quite a ways away, the ground starts shifting and wails and moans come from out of the ground; 6 ghouls begin clawing their way out of the earth!

The other adventurers are fighting for their lives and I’m trying to decide if I should run back and help them, or get this dying holy relic home. I choose my new friends and start running back. Good thing too, because my peeps weren’t doing so well. I thorn-whip some in the face and kill three of them eventually. I also got to use my entangle spell which sort of helped. Norda ends of finishing off the rest of them and we all come out mostly unharmed. Go Team!

SESSION 4

I gift a lucky leaf to each of my friends and really head for home. The rest of the adventurers go their own way and we decide to meet tomorrow at noon.

My druid master passes away, having his life extended plenty already by the holy oak bonsai; it’s quite the beautiful passing (flowers and new life and everything).

That night, Ara, who is starting to fancy the name “The Bard”, works it out with the tavern owner to also let her friends room for free.  Her performance is entertaining enough that the owner doesn’t regret his decision.

After meeting up, we go to Cappo’s and Sippo’s, then to Dr. Mimmble, the apothecary. We learn that Weebee wants to sneak off and recollect her pebbles, but Ara convinces her not to, letting her know that they’ll go ahead and do just that for her. We also learn how exactly Weebee found the secret door.

At Dr. Mimmble’s, they learn that the contents of the unlabeled bottles were liver reinforcement pills.  A few individuals in town are taking them.  Also, that many bottles of placebo pills were purchased a couple months ago by Elsha, co-advisor to the mayor, who told Dr. Mimmbles it was for a long, ongoing science experiment.

We’re super suspicious now and decide to sneak into the Mayor’s house.  Many nooks and crannies, little homes and tunnels and pathways and bridges for animals line the walls and ceiling. They discover a fat cute bunny and an animal tunnel connecting two rooms. Norda, I think, talks to it and it helps lead us around, but also turns over on its belly when we ask “where’s pidgey?”

We also found: A full and half-full bottle of liver reinforcement pills, a pile of clothes in the middle of the mayors bed, covered by a blanket, a giant gnomish typesetting machine, a hidden passageway behind a tapestry, the passageway was rough-hewn and dirty and somewhat dusty with rock dust, a simple rug and a doorway at the end of the passageway, which is where they now stand.

[admirable-mairon]

Personal stuff incoming

Ok this is gonna be a long-ass post because I just... I just need to write this down somewhere before I fucking break. 

If you read through it I’ll be surprised, and I’ll be grateful, but also feel the need to apologize for burdening you with my shit when I normally just want to bring the lot of you joy. Nothing makes me happier than helping and making others happy, and this post will not do that. There will be no solution at the end, but it will be a long tale of why I am what I am and why I don’t ever understand how people can love their parents. 

tw for mental and verbal abuse as well as self-hatred and mental illness under the cut. I love you. 

Ok so where the fuck do I even start?

Well. 

I hate my parents. I loathe them and the world would be better if I never had to see them again. I mean that sincerely. But they would always have the upper hand. To the general public - to their friends and our relatives me hating them will only be a display of me being a spoiled and ungrateful brat at the tender age of 23. 

-

I don’t remember when my parents changed, or rather when things started to go downhill. Just like most people who live in abusive relationships don’t realize how abusive it was until they got away. But I think it was around 2002. I was 8 and my beloved aunt, father’s little sister, passed away. I loved my aunt like an older sister, and it was naturally a harsh blow. 

Even back then I was a very rowdy child. I would be loud and nobody really knew how to deal with me and the grief of such a young child. I became violent, I lost friends (as I should have. One shouldn’t stay with someone who beats them) and around that time I also learned that my tears meant nothing to my parents. 

For further context we have ALWAYS had a good economy. I’ve never had to worry about having a roof over my head or food in my belly. We have had enough money to afford TVs and computers, and vacations and gaming consoles. To my knowledge my father currently has 2 or 3 PS4′s in their house, they own a pool, one sports car and my mother enjoys the luxury of champagne quite often.  We have ALWAYS had a good materialistic life. Always. And I would give away any of all those things to anyone as long as it meant that I would not have to feel dread when meeting ‘my parents’. If it meant that I had a grownup - a parent - that cared and supported me. I would have given those things away to ANYONE just to have a mother and father that are capable of showing love. 

-

We fought quite often I think. I sincerely don’t remember, it’s all a blur. But I do remember that I once bought a lot of candy and lied about it to them. There were a lot of tiny little lies, tiny things, that all gathered up to big messes. I didn’t want to tell them, so somewhere around 10 years of age I started to hurt myself. Not with blades - nothing that left marks - but I remember forcing myself to hold my little hand under a stream of ice cold water before swiftly forcing it into steaming hot water. All of this because I deserved to be punished. I was a bad child and I had lied. And as long as I hurt myself - no one else would have to. 

Every time these little lies were brought to light we fought for hours. I would be crying, I would be BEGGING them to let me leave - to just go to my room. They never did. My tears never meant anything. I was hugged out of obligation because my mother felt that it would be appropriate. Speaking of my mother she ALSO often cried after some time, and I was blamed for it.  Me - a child - my tears meant nothing. But I made my mother cry. And so I was always the bad one. 

My father and I are equally verbally violent, because unfortunately I’m his daughter in most ways. When it comes to looks and temper. My brother - My darling baby brother and only family - is more like mother in that he prefers to be quiet. The two of them always got stuck in the middle when father and I fought, and still does. 

My father may give us plenty of things - money and ‘security’ - but he’s an abusive asshole that will turn anything you say against you. I have - in fact - based many of Mairon’s manipulating tactics on my father’s behaviour. 

We have never been allowed to say no. Ever. We have never been allowed to feel anything but joy around them.  Every dinner I’ve had with these people have resulted in casual insults to my brother and I. We’re lazy, too fat, too spoiled, never grateful, we never help, we never do what we’re told, things that make us happy are just ALWAYS pieces of shit and they never want to hear about them. 

I have always been a burden. Always. They say they love me, but when I try to share my interests with them - when I try to tell them about things that make me happy - they always shoot them down. Such things are worthless. Oh you like that? Well that’s shit. This thing made you happy? If only you liked this instead. 

I have always been a straight A student, but that was never enough.  I never ran away from home.  I never smoked.  I didn’t drink alcohol until I was of legal age. 

But I am a burden still. My tears mean NOTHING to my parents! Nothing! And they never have!

--

It’s hard to narrow it down on how it was for most of my upbringing because I am dissociating so hard that I look at those memories with the eyes of someone who hasn’t lived them. I know it was me. I have the objective memories. But it wasn’t me. 

So let’s speed forward to 2014. The worst year of my fucking life. My grandmother was dying in cancer, work was stressful, I had no friends nearby, and my ex-fiance raped me several times over that year. Mother and father were confused by their own grief over grandmother and never ever stopped to consider how it was affecting me and my brother.  We were blamed for literally everything that went on at home. We were blamed for the sorrow. If only our rooms were clean father would want to be home. If only we did more chores without being asked to do so everything would be okay!  I distinctly remember one instance where we HAD made a mistake, which blew up out of proportions. Father and I were at eachother’s throats - verbal and violent as always - but my brother, my beloved darling brother, stood his ground. He put his hand on my shoulder and calmed me down, and tried to plead with our parents. We didn’t know how to fix what we had fucked up, we were sorry, and all we wanted to know was how to fix it to soothe them. I was crying, mother was crying, and father wasn’t getting to my brother the same way he got to me. Because my brother is a naturally calm man who has the immense strength to let mother and father’s taunts just roll off him. He has become numb to them. 

And when father realized that he was losing his ground to his own son, he switched tactics. He knew what my brother loved - he knows of our interests. He has to know of them to be able to shit on them after all.  And he threatened to remove it from him. One of the few things that made my brother smile. I won’t go into details about what it was exactly, but it was something that he looked forward to every single year - where he met all of his friends. And now father decided to pick on that because it was the only thing that would bring my brother to his knees.  And it did. 

My brother broke and cried then, more animated and angry and scared than I’ve ever seen him. And Father threw that back in his face as well. That he was being unreasonable and overly sensetive.  When faced with my brother’s tears I will go all in to protect and defend him, and I did. Swallowing my tears to keep him steady. 

I hate father for that. I hate father for many things, but the things he’s done to my brother are so vile and disgusting that I just- 

I can’t. 

I was scared to come back to them after my year in Japan. I cried in my ex-partners arms in sheer terror when I had to go back ‘home’, because I didn’t know if I would survive. And I very nearly didn’t. I felt so bad there, I was so scared daily, that almost every night I considered to go down into the kitchen and take a knife and just end it right then and there.  The thing that stopped me was not wanting my brother to have to see that.  So I managed to move out. I moved in with my best friend instead, but my brother still lived with them.  He was numb to them at that point though so his life wasn’t as threatened as mine was. But it was still a hostage situation. 

I moved to another city. Things were looking up....

And then we were informed that one of our cats was dying in cancer. 

And my brother broke. 

I have never ever seen him that shattered before. He was in shock for so many days, and I remember sleeping in the same room as him that night - the last night before I was about to move to the other side of the country. I heard him crying - weeping all alone in his bed, so I curled up around him and petted his head as he sobbed and keened as though he wasn’t twice my size. As though we were still children and he just wanted his older sister there with him. 

“I can’t....! I don’t know what to do...! I’m going to lose both of you...!”

He will NEVER lose me. But he would lose Baloo, his best friend in the whole world, and NONE of our parents know him well enough to know how to comfort him. I had to be his mother - his parent - and his pillar, even as I myself was shattering. I would never shame him for needing me. Never.  But I DO despise my parents for not knowing how to help their son. I despise them for being unable to hug him - for being unable to understand him - and for being unable to be loving in his time of need. 

Even on the days around Baloo’s death - days that I still... I can’t...... They didn’t know what to do. I had to be the whole pillar and support structure of a family. Or rather - my family and two people I’m obliged to have a relationship with. I had no chance to grieve, I had no chance in the world to feel ANY grief over a cat that I loved like he was my child. 

And that leads us to the issue that I’m currently sitting with. 

New Zealand. 

The day after Baloo’s death - After I’d barely managed to keep my brother alive and eating and sleeping - mother and father told us that they had booked a trip to New Zealand with us. And I just... I just froze up. 

It has been my DREAM to go to New Zealand, and now I would get to do so.... But at the cost of going there with my parents.  Parents that I hate and have almost killed me and my brother many times over. I lived far away, I had worked on putting myself first, and now that they ASKED if we wanted to go..... I said No. 

Remember how I previously said that we’ve never been allowed to say no?

That still applies. 

Thankfully my brother was down in his room for the fight, but what followed can’t even be described as a ‘fight’, because that implies that I was given a chance to fight back. No - what happened can only be described as 3 hours of verbal abuse. It would have hurt less if my father had actually HIT me, and in some ways I wish that he had. Because then people would take the damage seriously. 

Three hours of being told that I was to blame for all the problems we’ve had since 2010, that being with my rapist made me ‘white-trash’, that I was ungrateful, that I was selfish and childish for not wanting to at least TRY to get along with my father, even if it meant that we have to write a list of things we aren’t allowed to talk about.  I stood in front of them crying, on the bring of an anxiety attack, literally clawing at my own arms and begging them to let me go away.  Never.  I had to listen. I had to make sure that I knew how much of a disgusting burden I am, while my head kept screaming at me that I would be better off dead. This family doesn’t work, ALL because of me! Think about your brother! (Oh but I do. Like no one else) ‘This might be our last family vacation together. We don’t know which of us will die in a fatal illness next. Maybe we already have it’

What do you say to that? What can you say when all your energy - when your will to live and fight has been sucked out of you? When your FATHER throws that into your face?

I agreed. Even though I know it will be two weeks of misery and not looking longingly at things that could potentially kill me. Even though I will have to send them 10′000SEK (~1200$) because ‘They want me to feel the weight of it too’. 

That is why I’m going to New Zealand next week, and I am utterly and intensely terrified. 

The journey that I have dreamed of for years, only for it to turn into a horror tale. It’s as if my rapist would come with me, but worse. At least he only abused me for a couple of years. 

And yet my mother STILL has the fucking nerve to pretend that we’re a fucking FAMILY!?

Now - now that I’m 23 she’s finally acting somewhat like that mother I always wanted and needed. The one that assures me that I’m loved and tells me to eat, as opposed to shaming me for doing so. She keeps wanting to hold my hand, despite how I’m a grown woman, and it feels like an assault. It makes me uncomfortable and I want to run, but still she does it. 

This trip cost my brother his job and they will blame HIM for it without a doubt.

 Things ARE looking up. After this I will never have to speak to them again. Ever. My brother has moved out, so have I, we are not depending on them for money - we don’t need them. They have never been here when we need them - not without hurting us through their ‘hugs’ and ‘gifts’. Why should we let them rule us now?

I hate them and I am scared. There are so many things they have done that I could bring up but I’ve talked for so long already and it would take me HOURS even if I do it verbally and faster than I can write. 

THIS is why bad parents are such a fucking sore spot for me. Biological family doesn’t HAVE to be family. 

You don’t just GET the respect of being a fucking parent or part of a family because you happen to be related - You have to deserve that respect like everybody fucking else! 

I can be thankful for the things they’ve given me. Materialistic as well as advice when I’ve asked them. Because I HAVE asked them. I don’t owe them SHIT for feeding me and ‘taking care of me as a child’ because fucking NEWSFLASH - I didn’t ask the two of them to fuck. I didn’t ask to be born, and WHOOP ARE YOU SERIOUS!? CHILDREN NEED FOOD? THAT’S WEIRD! YOU SHOULD BE THANKFUL’

But I hate them for never being parents when we needed them. I hate them for the self-loathing they’ve planted in me and my brother. I hate them for hurting us. I hate them for making it all seem perfect because they have GIVEN us things! I hate them for making me dread going to NEW ZEALAND! I HATE them for making me unable to see why anyone would ever want to spend time with their ‘family’ because I HAVE none! And I especially hate them for refusing to listen and pretend that things are alright because they are scared of losing us. 

Well. 

They deserve to lose us. 

They don’t deserve us. 

And yet..... the thought of them dying... or being old and alone terrifies me..... 

Despite how scared I am of them. Despite how they terrify me. Despite the many times I have been blamed for mother’s tears while my own have been ignored. Despite the many times I’ve just wanted parents.....  Despite the many times I’ve just wanted to be loved. 

Despite how they have made me think that I do not deserve to be loved.

[jtq1844]

One day into this and I’m already behind ...

Where did the day go?  So much for taking this opportunity to build in some writing discipline into my life.  I actually have a Masters of Fine Arts in Creative Writing (Antioch University -- Los Angeles, 2017).  It started out as “an external goal” in 2015, something to try after we moved as empty-nesters up to Washington State from Santa Cruz.  The program is “low residency,” meaning it is mostly online.  I had had a few stories published already, so I had reason to think it was doable.  I like story-telling.  I like writing.  What I discovered was that, while I have some writing competency, I don’t exactly have a passion for it. 

Here is one of the CNF essays from my official portfolio to amuse you until I compose a more heartfelt and informative post for tomorrow … er, I mean, today … um.  You know what I mean.

-=-=-=-

Sister Clorina, Saint Blaise and Doubting Thomas by Jean Tschohl Quinn

    It can take years to come to an understanding about something. Alternatively, an understanding can barrel into consciousness like a grand and glorious epiphanic elephant.  Sometimes, both happens. I love paradox.  I adore the celestial AND. It is in this sort of epiphany, decades in the making, that I found Bahá'u'lláh.

    Sister Clorina hated me. No. That’s too strong. She simply did not like any girls not named Mary. She didn’t like me in particular because she had suddenly been “demoted” to second grade from fourth grade where my sister Mary was -- sweet, clever, pious and faithful.  How could I compete?  My best friend then was named Mary too.  Mary Wirhanowicz was also sweet, clever, pious and faithful. I hold no grudge against the average Mary. They’ve got the whole Blessed Virgin Mother expectation thing to deal with and had no choice in the matter because that was their collective given name. It is, apparently, a lot of pressure. There is the occasional exception of the BVM standard when there are multiple Marys in a single classroom.  Some of them get an out if they had, say, a younger sibling who called them something else and the teacher approved for clarity’s sake.  One of my grandmothers was one of those. There were several Mary’s in her one-room schoolhouse in Nova Scotia. Her younger brothers and sisters called her Mayme already and so she was dubbed in the classroom and life in general. To this day, I consider her the sanest person I’ve ever met. However, in my second grade classroom, Sister Clorina felt she had reason to suspect me as nefarious.  First, I was not named Mary.  Second, I was “philosophical.”  

     Her move down to second grade was precipitated by Sister Marie Madison’s hasty withdrawal from the convent life after only a month with our class.  We were informed that we had simply “driven her crazy.”  Mea culpa.  Mea culpa.  Mea maxima culpa. (That’s not quite accurate; it was post-Vatican-II. We didn’t actually learn any Latin.)  The girls of the class all knew the blame rested solely on the antics of Vince Wederath, Brian Doherty, and Eddie Marx. They were the bad boys. Maybe Tim Relihan too. We were sure of it. Twelve or so years after the fact, I bumped into Eddie on a bus as I headed home from college for a weekend of free laundry and food.  He was still proud of his part in the good sister’s loss of faith. We choose our triumphs; this apparently was one of Eddie’s.

    Sister Clorina emanated a stern energy.  I cannot tell you whether she was tall or short from my second-grader memory, but I do recall her immense energy.  Sometimes, she’d fill in on the organ at Mass when the ridiculously cherubic Sister Acquitaine was overwrought or under the weather.  Sister Acquitaine was the music teacher.  She felt my brother Kevin’s musical talent was extraordinary -- it is – and so she kept him in at recess for violin lessons because we already had a violin that Grampa Hanson had picked up at St. Vinnie’s for $7 in 1967.  Kevin did not like missing recess. He abandoned the violin at his earliest possible convenience. I still have and play that violin, mainly because no one else had a use for it. I have always felt that I have a right only to that which is of no use to anyone else. It’s a youngest child thing. In second grade, I even went so far as to claim my favorite color as moss green because I felt sorry for it.  

    In any case, Sister Clorina as a substitute organist kept the tempo “up” much to the consternation of the older folks. My family liked it that way; it was zippy. She would shout over her shoulder, “Hymn number 8.”  Only I thought she was saying “Hit number 8” like Casey Kasem might, so I thought we were going to sing Winchester Cathedral or Last Train to Clarksville depending on the week. I somehow knew never to expect Wild Thing.  

     I had high hopes as Sister Clorina glowered over us in the hall outside the classroom. I reached for her hand, trying to be the brown-noser I knew myself to be.  She sniffed and tucked her arm inside her surplus.  Her disdain for me was immediate.

    First grade had been a long line of substitute teachers after Mrs. Conti-Morgan left to give birth after an entirely crabby last month. She and Mrs. Lambert, a squat dynamic storyteller, in the fifth grade were the only lay teachers in the school.  Second grade looked like the beginning of a whole new world. I was finally going to be close enough to a nun to touch one.

    After Sister Marie Madison bailed on us in the second-grade, I suspect Sister Clorina took the move from her already beloved fourth grade class to our clearly evil second grade as a demotion. The smaller four and fifth grade classes would be combined with the incredible Mrs. Lambert at the helm. My sister Mary was immediately named co-chair with Mrs. Lambert of their mutual admiration society. Mary has that mysterious charm that immediately made her teacher’s pet. Every time.  

    My year with Sister Clorina should have been a good one.  She did Science. We studied the classic simple machines: lever, incline plane, screw, pulley, wedge, and wheel and axle.  She even pointed out that a screw is really just an incline plane wrapped around a pivot point. This was good stuff. We learned about meteorology and taxonomy. Why wasn’t it working?  For one thing, she had no joy once Mary Wirhanowicz got really sick and was gone for weeks.  I brought homework to Mary and back to school regularly.  Did I get any credit for helping the BVM wannabe?  No I did not. Looking for credit is always a sure way to not get any. I was dead last in the rankings of teacher’s pet, even behind Renee Kucze and she NEVER adhered to the dress code.  

    Mary eventually recovered and returned to class. My only hope was merit by association.  No luck. Christmas rolled around and the requisite study of the Nativity. We learned about the Magi, those astrologers from the East. The question was obvious, so I asked it, “If they understood how important Jesus was before He was even born, shouldn’t we be studying their Religion?”  Sister Clorina never called on me again.  

    Second grade crawled on. I was dying to ask about the blessing of the throats on Saint Blaise Day, February 3, but I couldn’t ask Sister Clorina. I thought the hubbub was kind of cool -- how we’d line up and have blest candles criss-crossed about our necks with a little prayer for health offered – but still didn’t understand it.  My mom, who was much more informed and cynical than I could have realized then, knew a little about it. One of the miracles attributed to Saint Blaise was miraculously saving someone from choking. His “day” was the day after Candlemas, February 2, when families traditionally brought in all their candles to be sanctified.  

    “While this is completely pointless in the 20th century,” she postulated, “imagine what candles meant to a family three hundred, five hundred, seven hundred years ago.”  Having them blest would be a prudent gesture to Christians throughout Old Europe and the Byzantine Empire, she hoped I would agree. In my limited comprehension, however, I continued to attempt reconciliation of all of this with Groundhog Day.  Maybe the flicker of candles cast interesting shadows on any groundhogs popping out of holes on the same day.  

    By Lent, I knew better than to ask questions. During the required Tuesday-after-school Stations of the Cross, I languished with questions.  It’s not three days between the afternoon of Good Friday and dawn of Easter Sunday.  It’s two. Much later, I learned that the Jewish day starts at sundown, so it was definitely only two days. I did not dare ask. And the renaming of Simon to Peter, the rock.  What was that about? That was a whole lot of palaver over one little verse and the power that Saul/Paul grabbed anyway. I didn’t get it and couldn’t ask.

    At Pentecost, I remember sitting amiably in the pew, gently kicking at the kneeler after the Gospel Reading, followed by a rambling homily about Doubting Thomas. He misses a visit from the post-Resurrection Christ and demands physical proof.  Christ does come to revisit and offers Thomas a chance to “probe the nail holes.”  Thomas believes even though there’s no record of him poking his fingers anywhere – seriously not in a single one of the four Gospels -- just being with Him again is sufficient.  Christ then adds “blessed are they that have not seen but still believe.”  

    Yes, I committed to myself – kick, kick, kick -- I will never be like Doubting Thomas, needing proof like that.  To this day, I have never witnessed any firsthand wowza moment. Some friends of mine have hosted these remarkable, spiritual ongoing events where miracles of joy, epiphany and synchronicity are a regular occurrence for years. Long-lost friends reunite. Extraordinary fund-raising. Mysterious healings. You name it. Whenever I show up, it’s invariably an “off night.” My friend who has witnessed it all invariably shrugs and says, “I don’t know what happened this time. Maybe it was the traffic.”  I trust their reality.  I have to, because I wasn’t there.  

    I was still mindlessly kicking the kneeler.  Why didn’t they recognize Christ as Jesus when meeting Him after the Resurrection? Seriously, they don’t recognize Him at first. Why would that be? What was the big deal about a physical resurrection anyway? The Old Testament was full of them.  I could get the importance of a spiritual one – I thought: Peter … Rock … denied Him and the hiding … rock rolled away … blah, blah, blah … Didn’t Jesus call His followers His body?  I was not about to ask questions. The symbolism worked so much better than literal story.  Don’t ask; don’t tell.  Just get through second grade.

    By the end of that year, Father Podolak, that gentle, rambling soul who would eventually preside over my wedding years later, announced that the school would be closing at June. My sister and I were devastated.  My brothers and older sisters were already going off to junior high and senior high school, mercifully saved from attending more Catholic school by the cost of tuition times six. Mary and I lay in bed with the blankets kicked off, feeling entombed by the muggy heaviness of Wisconsin in the summer bemoaning our fate, a public school education with their loose morals and strange ways.  Of this we were sure.  No potentially free music lessons from Sister Acquitaine; no exciting tales about WWI in Italy from Mrs. Lambert; no stern preparation for junior high from Sister Rhodelia whose great contribution to our family was her encouragement to my parents that my shy, nervous, older sister Jackie would achieve every regular thing, just in her own time. We were off to public school and weekly Catholic CCD (Confraternity of Christian Doctrine.  I kid you not).

    How wrong we were! At the public school, we got free music lessons on any instrument we chose from hip young musicians; one for band instruments, the other for strings (my choice, obviously).  And Mrs. Grossman taught us singing. She really liked how Mary (either one) and I sang together.  By the following Christmas, my sister now a fifth grader and I a third grader sang in front of an audience of hundreds a harmonized duet of Mel Torme’s A Christmas Song. Afterwards Brian Doherty spoke directly to me, probably the only time he ever did, “You have guts. Double guts.” Respect. I don’t remember seeing him after that.

   We also had a regular dedicated art teacher, Miss Sanford.  She got a nose job the following summer and nobody recognized her when she returned. The best part was, my third grade teacher, Miss Nawrocki. She looked like a Barbie doll. She wore wigs of different colors and lengths. She got married halfway through the year and became Mrs. Raniewicz. Dang.  We had just conquered spelling capital-N A W R O C K I. She directed a class musical. I had lunch with her a couple of years ago.  She is still awesome, although significantly shorter than I thought. Public school was fine. Better than fine. It was great. To heck with you, Sister Clorina.

    Around ninth grade, Confirmation rolled around. It was time for me to publicly commit to God and His Church, whatever that meant. Among the somewhat arbitrary options for going through a Catholic Confirmation is taking a new name.  It has little or no intrinsic meaning within Western cultures, but the vestigial tradition hangs on.  My 15-year-old self was interested in saving the world by becoming a medical doctor – didn’t happen: boys, booze, and a reading disability derailed that vague idea during the first semester of college – so I chose the name “Blaise” as my Confirmation name.  I had mistakenly thought he was the patron saint of physicians. I was a piss-poor researcher back then too.  So many of his miracles had to do with healing, particularly having to do with throat ailments and choking. Who am I kidding?  I claimed the name Blaise because the choice was due the week after the whole Candlemas/Saint Blaise weirdness -- exactly forty days after Christmas. What was this thing with forty days anyway?  Noah in the Ark, Jesus in the desert, Buddha under the Bodi Tree, the Prophet Mohammad in a cave.  There’s Lent.  There are periods of mourning, of fasting or of thanksgiving in most belief systems.  

    In any case, my choice of Blaise, a male name, upset a fair few people, so I had to write a couple of letters to some persnickety council of some kind. The request was okayed … with reservations. The actual Confirmation was forgettable other than choir director being in a car accident on the way there, so the choir – which included my mother, my sister Mary, Mary Wirhanowicz and me – had to wing it.  

    “So why was the name Blaise so important to you?” Father Podolak asked me months later.

    “Well, if this spirituality stuff doesn’t work out, ‘Blaze’ is a good name for a stripper.” The words were out of my mouth before I ran them through my brain. I kept walking.  

    The next time I saw Fr. P, he said, “Jean, do you know how we make holy water?”

    “You bless it?” I stammered.  

     “No, you boil the Hell out of it.”  He smiled apologetically and gently clarified, “That was a joke.”  

    I chatted with a priest at a wedding I was hired to sing for a few years later, I mentioned the parish I grew up in. The priest said, “Ah!  Bill Podolak, a kind man.”

    “Yes, indeed.” I was running out of things to say.

    “… not a dynamic speaker.”

    “No, indeed.”  We laughed, all too cruelly I believe.

   In spite of my bad research skills, Saint Blaise continues to intrigue me. Having been martyred by being beaten to death with iron combs used for wool combing and carding, Saint Blaise has since been associated with any trade having to do with wool since the Middle Ages, not the healing arts. So, after all the hubbub about me picking a male saint’s name, perhaps it works for me.  After all, what is my essay-writing but glorified wool-gathering?  

    The year after my Confirmation, I lived in Tunisia through a foreign exchange program the same summer that Monty Python’s Flying Circus filmed Life of Brian a mere 100 kilometers away.  I did not find out until just after my return to the US, by watching an episode of Saturday Night Live hosted by Eric Idle.  His monologue was about the long, sad love songs Tunisians sing with such relish and the ubiquity of jasmine there. Mr. Idle’s monologue went over like a fart in church as the saying goes.  My family, however, laughed spasmodically as they recalled the similar stories from my letters home. Dad with his ever-present bowl of popcorn balanced on his chest, fell off the couch chortling. Mr. Idle’s underappreciated monologue notwithstanding, my summer in Tunisia changed my perceptions of just about everything. I had lived with a Moslem family in a Moslem neighborhood in a Moslem village. They valued education and kindness, respect and humor, the individual and the collective. The child peeking out of the doorway to see the American girl may have looked like an advertisement for C.A.R.E., but I came to know that her family loved her abundantly, fed her regularly if frugally, and had dreams and hopes for her.  Neshua, the daughter of my host family closest to my age, and I were invited to several homes. Some of those invitations were offered because I was a curiosity to the village. In most of the humbler homes, there was a carpet in the works, a large frame taking up a wall in their main living space.  A color plot hung taped to one of the loom’s posts.  I learned to knot and trim the wool according to the plot, to shift the heddle and weft shuttle, to tamp work with the kleleh to compact the threads.  We sat together, partly in fellowship, partly to contribute to the household. One little girl elbowed her way next to me knotting two to my one and announce that she would teach me the Arabic alphabet. “C’est très important” for me to learn how to read Arabic. I never did, except for “Coca-Cola” which I suspect had more to do with it being on large red billboards.

    I was quite full of myself. Eventually the lessons of that summer, about the oneness of Religion, not the Arabic alphabet, sunk in. No longer would the coat of we’re-right/they’re-wrong Christianity fit me properly.  

    Eventually, I was off to college where at some point I made out with a guy who decided to become a priest.  I think there may be something more to process about that.  Maybe not.  I ended up eventually working in Washington DC and met my future husband Mike at a Trivial Pursuit party in the apartment complex we both lived in.  We were both Arabic-speaking (although mine was pretty patchy), left-handed (which has its own complications in Middle Eastern countries), green-eyed Catholics.  It was Kismet.  Oh, and we both preferred to drink milk with pizza. Like I said, Kismet. We went through all the Catholic wedding hoops and started our family when I got pushed onto a spiritual journey by a couple of Jehovah’s Witnesses.  While the JW logic never worked for me, I will forever be grateful to Betty and LaVonne for starting me on the journey.  Here I will skip chapters full of synchronicities that only Baha’is would find amusing, we attended some meetings referred to as Firesides after moving to San Jose, California a few years later.

    The speaker one evening expounded on the subject of Progressive Revelation.  In brief, Progressive Revelation encompasses the idea that Religion is unfolding over time as humanity becomes ready for a fuller understanding of the true nature of Reality. The speaker went on to offer examples of how Judaism begot Christianity and primarily affected Europe in its initial reach and development. Likewise, Hinduism begot Buddhism which moved out to Asia.  Islam is also Abrahamic but was couched in Zoroastrian customs as well. It spread into North Africa, the Middle East, Oceania.  The Baha’i Faith was revealed just as the world needed to start thinking globally, in the mid-19th century.  Any corruption of Religion has to do with mankind messing with it, not with the purity of the original Message.  This made some sense to me, but I didn’t know anything about Zoroaster. The speaker recognized my raised eyebrow-of-confusion and explained.  

    The moment the speaker explained that the primary understanding of Zoroastrianism in the West would be the Zodiac. He also mentioned that the priesthood was referred to as the Magi, as in the “astrologers from the East.” In that moment, all the disparate thoughts from the time I was seven onward coalesced in my mind’s eye like a jigsaw puzzle completing itself. I wiggled in my seat in excitement, trying not to disturb the tiny middle-aged woman of Asian descent or the black man next to me who had fallen asleep. He was snoring full out and no one was perturbed by it. His wife, a white woman at least a head taller than he was, later explained that he had had a stroke during brain surgery a few years before and often fell asleep. The oneness of God, the oneness of Humanity, the oneness of Religion all made sense to me. In that blink of an eye, I saw the interlocking of fact and legend, of the Magi and the Baby, of tradition and skepticism. I was back with Sister Clorina, Saint Blaise, and my family in Tunisia.

    It was both in an instant and over the course of my lifetime up to that point that I came to this understanding. A few weeks after that night, Mike and I together declared our Faith in Bahá'u'lláh, that is to say, became adherents to the Baha'i Faith. We have found our lives infinitely richer because of that choice, so have our children (so they tell me).  It is not easy to always keep in mind that each and every person that exists or did exist or will exist is unique and beloved by God, or that our individual Free Wills can send us in all different directions, or that "This is the changeless Faith of God, eternal in the past, eternal in the future" as Bahá'u'lláh says. In fact, it's mostly challenging. Building Heaven on Earth is not for sissies. However, I know it is the right thing for me to pursue.

    I still do not get my faith confirmed by fantastical measures.  I’d love to see a crowd of people collectively gung their foreheads with the heels of their hands that the oneness of Humanity is a fact and the work it will take for every person to feel loved and beloved as the family we are will be worth the effort and sacrifice.  I’d love to see someone healed miraculously.  I still get the sense that I won't ever witness events like that first hand.  

    Occasionally, I do witness people who die with grace or see a smile generated from a purely motivated kindness perpetrated on an unsuspecting grump. It is things like that -- tiny, lovely indications that my spiritual path is worth toddling upon – with which I chose to be satisfied. I promised myself so long ago that it would be enough.

     Sister Clorina was only in my life for six months over fifty years ago.  She still pops into my head, usually when I am accused of being “too sensitive” about something. I’d love to prove to you that she’s not important to me now, but you’ll just have to take that on faith.

[minijenn]

Universe Falls Chapter 28

Oh god. You guys this chapter broke me. I’m having ALL the feels right now. But all that aside, I’m so damn proud of how it turned out? Like I could feel the emotions so clearly as I wrote it, so I really hope you call can feel it too. But anyway, here we go! Strap in for the emotional roller coaster ride!

Previous: http://minijenn.tumblr.com/post/156357991481/universe-falls-chapter-27

Chapter 28: Straight to Video

1 20-1-16-5, 1 3-8-5-19-20, 1 6-12-1-7, 1 19-23-15-18-4, 1 19-8-9-18-20, 1 7-5-13, 1-14-4 13-5-13-15-18-9-5-19 19-20-15-18-5-4, 1-12-12 9-14-19-9-4-5 20-8-5 12-9-15-14'19 13-1-14-5 23-8-5-18-5 18-15-19-5 9-14-20-5-14-4-5-4 20-8-5-25 18-5-13-1-9-14

Steven put a thoughtful hand to his chin as he looked over the various treats the Mystery Shack’s vending machine had to offer. He had silently pondering over his choice of a snack for quite some time now, long enough for Wendy to offer him a brief encouragement in making his integral decision.

“You got this, Steven,” the cashier smirked as she casually leaned against the counter.

“Thanks, Wendy,” Steven said, his attention still devoted to the machine. “It’s just so hard to choose though! I mean, I could get a bag of chips, which would be tasty, but I always get chips. Shouldn’t I be living life to the fullest and trying new things?”

“Dude, if that’s how you wanna roll, I totally recommend the new spicy pretzels in row seven,” Soos cut in. “They’re easily the most dangerous thing in there, trust me.”

“Hm… good point…” Steven mused thoughtfully.

“If you still can’t make up your mind, why don’t you ask your buddy over there?” Wendy asked, nodding over to Lion as he walked over to the ice cream freezer. Curious, the young Gem went over to the freezer as well to see why his pink companion was pressing his face against it, only to groan in disgust upon realizing what all the fuss was about.

“Ugh, Lion Lickers?” Steven frowned disapprovingly. “Lion, those are gross. No offense.” The pink beast did take some offense to this of course, as he let out a disgruntled huff and walked to the other side of the gift shop.

“You guys better hurry it up,” Wendy advised with her usual relaxed grin. “We have to close up for the night soon.”

“Yeah, you don’t want Mr. Pines chasing you out with the hose again like last time, dude,” Soos added with a concerned frown.

“Well, I wouldn’t mind, but Lion here’s not a huge fan of water,” Steven chuckled, grinning to his fluffy companion. “Right?” The pink beast let out a sullen growl as he turned away from the young Gem, sticking his nose up in the air as he sat down firmly. “Looks like somebody’s being a little grumpy-grump today,” Steven remarked, his hands on his hips as he raised an eyebrow.

“That’s cats for you,” Wendy commented with a shrug. “They’re pretty temperamental little guys. Though in your case, Steven, I’d say Lion’s more of a temperamental big guy.”

“Ha! I get it!” Soos laughed along with Steven over this quip. “Cause he’s a lion!”

“AHHHH!” a sudden, quite loud scream from the living room broke through the conversation, slightly startling the group in the gift shop. Their worry quickly faded however as Mabel ran in, holding a large box above her head as a huge, excited grin lit up her face. Dipper followed not too far behind her, nowhere near as enthralled as she was, but still generally amused with his sister’s usual antics.

“Yo, dude, what’s up?” Soos asked Mabel curiously as she set the box on the floor. “You’re more excited than you were that time you found that baby squirrel in the attic.”

Mabel was hardly listening as she began to tear the package open, letting out another elated squeal as she did so. “Eee! It’s here! It’s here! It’s here!”

“What’s here?” Steven asked, confused.

“The summer care package our mom sent us,” Dipper explained since Mabel was far too distracted to. “She actually sent it out weeks ago, but apparently it got lost in the mail or something like that-”

“But now its finally here!” Mabel cheered. “Whoa, Dipper! Look at all the cool stuff Mom sent us!” she exclaimed as he began digging through the box’s contents while Dipper and Steven curiously watched on. “Heh, looks like somebody left his jacket back at home! Guess Mom didn’t want you catching a cold,” Mabel teased as she held up a blue jacket.

“It’s summertime, Mabel,” Dipper deadpanned grabbing his jacket from her. “I just thought I wouldn’t need it. Still… I am kinda glad she sent this. It can get sort of cold up here… sometimes.”

“What else did she send you guys?” Steven asked Mabel, quite intrigued, seeing as how he had never really received a package like this before himself.  

Mabel gasped with delight as she pulled a few more items out of the box. “My favorite knitting needles! And new yarn for sweaters! Aw, Mom knows me too well!”

“Whoa, is that a new mystery novel?!” Dipper exclaimed, taking a thick book out of the box. “Oh man, I’ve been dying to read this one! I-” He stopped short, however, upon noticing the amused smirk Wendy was sending his way. At the risk of embarrassing himself in front of his crush, he proceeded to try and play it off like it was no big deal, despite his excitement. “Uh, I mean… It’s cool. I’ll read it in my spare time or whatever. Who knows?”

“Dork!” Mabel coughed jokingly, eliciting an annoyed glare from her brother and a small laugh from Steven.

“Oh, who’s this cute little guy?” the young Gem asked as he noticed a photograph of a cat inside the box.

“Aw, it’s Muffin!” Mabel grinned warmly, holding the picture of her beloved feline up. “I miss him so much! You know, we named him Muffin because those are his favorite things to eat!”

“Even though Mom and Dad have told you time and time again not to let him eat them,” Dipper cut in dryly.

“Aw, he’s so adorable!” Steven smiled as he looked over the picture. “Do you guys think he’d get along with Waddles and Lion if he was here?”

“Considering the fact that the only person Muffin actually tolerates is Mabel, I doubt it,” Dipper said, shaking his head.

“Oh, come on,” Mabel rolled her eyes. “Muffin, Waddles, and Lion would be best friends for sure! Isn’t that right, Lion?” Once again, the pink beast was rather stoic as he only briefly glanced over his shoulder before settling down to a nap. “I’ll take that as a yes!”

“Looks like there’s one more thing in there for you dudes,” Soos pointed out, nodding to the almost empty box.

“Oh yeah,” Dipper said, pulling the round metal tin out. He paused as he looked it over, but soon frowned with concern upon reading the small note taped to the lid. “Oh no…”

“What is it?” Mabel asked, snatching the tin from him and opening it. She let out another overjoyed gasp as she did so, especially upon seeing that the tin was filled with cookies of countless different shapes and decorations. “YES! Mom’s famous cookies!”

“Hold it, Mabel!” Dipper interrupted as Mabel already began happily scarfing the sweets down. “Mom put a note on here telling me not to let you eat all of those cookies at once, so you better not-”

“Huh?” Mabel asked, her mouth full and the tin already close to empty.

“…Never mind.”

“It sure was nice of your mom to send you guys all of this stuff!” Steven smiled warmly.

“Eh, actually, it’s sort of embarrassing,” Dipper shrugged with a frown. “I mean, yeah its thoughtful and everything, but it’s also our mom’s way of saying she doesn’t think we can handle ourselves here without her.”

“Ha! If only she knew about all of the crazy Gem monsters and weird paranormal things we’ve been up against and survived!” Mabel exclaimed with a daring grin. “Speaking of which, that reminds me. I’ve been meaning to write about all of that stuff in that letter I plan on sending her!”

“Oh, come on, you guys,” Wendy remarked, smirking. “It’s not embarrassing; it’s totally sweet. If my mom was still around, I’d kill to get a get an awesome box of junk like that from her.”

“Wait, Wendy your mom is… gone?” Dipper asked, instantly regretting asking the question for how completely tactless it was.

The cashier nodded, letting out a long sigh as she glanced away. “Yeah. She went out to the store one day when it was raining a few years back and she got in a really back wreck and… well… she just… didn’t come back…” A brief bout of melancholy silence passed in light of this, but Wendy was quick to bridge it with a small smile to lighten the mood. “B-but its ok. I mean, yeah it was kinda rough without her at first, but you learn to get over it and move on, you know?”

“Don’t you still miss her sometimes though?” Mabel asked with a sympathetic frown.

“Yeah, sometimes…” Wendy acknowledged, though she once again bounced by quickly from it. “But like I said, it’s cool. After all, it’s not like I’m the first person to lose their mom.”

“I know what you mean by that…” Steven interjected, glancing to the floor morosely. “I never really got to meet my mom at all since she gave up her physical form to have me and everything…”

Another period of rather pensive silence filled the room as no one was really sure what to say to fully comfort either Wendy or Steven in light of the discussion of their deceased mothers. After all, the twins couldn’t really relate and Soos still had a maternal presence in his life in the form of his grandmother. But as soon enough the emotionally heavy mood was soon lifted, and as usual, Mabel was the one to lift it.

“Hey, uh, you guys want the last two cookies in here?” she asked Steven and Wendy with a smile, holding the cookie tin up. “They’re the best cookies you’ll ever eat, I promise!”

“Heh, I’m willing to put that promise to the test,” Wendy chuckled, gladly taking one of the cookies. “Thanks, dude.”

“Yeah, thanks, Mabel!” Steven grinned, his usual pep returning. “Hey, check it out! It’s a cookie shaped like a star!” he laughed, placing the cookie over the star on his shirt. “I guess you could say this cookie is… out of this world?”

The others all laughed over this corny pun, their former levity now returned in full. Lion let out a small yawn as he padded over to the empty box and attempted to lie down inside of it, completely disregarding the conversation as it continued.

“Whoa, Mabel, you weren’t kidding,” Wendy said as she ate her cookie. “This thing is amazing! Your mom can really bake!”

“Glad you like it! I’ll let her know you enjoyed it in my letter,” Mabel beamed brightly.

“Aw, dude, I wish I could have tried one,” Soos said with a frown.

“Same here,” Dipper remarked, giving Mabel a caustic glance. She simply shrugged innocently in response though, hardly guilty at all about eating most of the other treats.

“You know,” Steven said, his mouth still full as he munched on his cookie. “I kinda can’t help but wonder what kind of cookies my mom would have made me. Maybe they would have been actual space cookies!”

“Oh my gosh, I bet your mom’s space cookies would have been amazing, Steven!” Mabel agreed heartily.

“Wait, how would space cookies even work?” Dipper asked, confused. “Would they be made out of star dust, or meteor bits or-?”

“Whatever they would have been made of, they probably would have been great…” Steven said with a wistful sigh, looking down at the remainder of his cookie. “I just wish… I knew a little bit more about my mom… Just to know what she was like for myself.”

Before anyone could really respond to this, Steven was briefly startled by Lion headbutting his arm, keeping his forehead placed against the young Gem without any signs of moving it. Charmed by this, Steven gasped, as did Mabel, who was more than happy to discreetly snap a photo of it for her scrapbook.

“That’s a keeper!” she quipped brightly.

“Blink if this means you love me,” Steven whispered to his pink companion, who did no such thing but rather just stared up at the young Gem blankly. Steven was quick to change this however, as he briefly blew in Lion’s face, causing the pink beast to finally blink in response. “He loves me!”

Of course, everyone got a good laugh out of this, though it was short lived as Stan entered the room, as stoic as usual. “Hey, hey, hey!” he exclaimed, breaking up the fun. “What are you all doing lazing around in here?! It’s quitting time! And the sooner you all amscray, the sooner I can settle down and watch my show.”

“You mean that old soap opera about that duchess?” Dipper asked with a laugh.

“N-no!” Stan exclaimed defensively. “And even if I did watch a show like The Duchess Approves, I would only do it for the deeply relatable characters and the gripping real-world commentary.” A beat of uncomfortable silence passed as everyone looked to the conman in slight confusion before he let out a frustrated sigh. “You know what? I’m just gonna go now. Soos! Wendy! Close up shop!”

“You got it, boss!” Soos exclaimed with a loyal salute.

“Yeah, sure, whatever,” Wendy shrugged, taking her nametag off and grabbing her jacket as she prepared to go.

“And as for you, kid,” Stan scowled at Steven. “Hit the road! And take that frilly furball with you.”

“Aw, ok, Mr. Pines,” Steven begrudgingly agreed, hating to go even though he knew it was getting late. “See you guys, tomorrow!” he exclaimed to the twins, heading for the door as Lion padded behind him, carrying the empty care package box in his maw.

“Bye!” Dipper and Mabel both called out after Steven as he left, though the latter did stop short a bit as he realized something.

“Wait… did Lion just steal our box?” Dipper asked with a frown.

“Aw, he can have it!” Mabel quipped warmly, smiling as she looked over her picture of Muffin. “After all, as a cat, he’s a distant relative to my sweet little Muffin! And as a responsible cat owner, it’s my sworn duty to look out for other cats aside from my own!”

“You… do know Lion’s a lion, right Mabel?”

“Yeah. And your point is…?” Mabel smirked, ignoring her brother as he rolled his eyes in exasperation with her usual odd train of logic.

“And… all done!” Steven exclaimed as he finished taking the cushions off his couch and arranging them into a bed on the floor for Lion. “I made sure to make it extra cushy, just the way you like it!” The young Gem grinned in satisfaction over his work, but Lion hardly noticed it as he glanced up at the loft instead. “Wha—hey!” Steven protested as the pink beast leaped up onto the loft, jumping onto the young Gem’s bed and nestling himself into the plush covers.

“Hey, get out of there, Lion!” the young Gem chastised as he ran up to the loft. “Lion, this is the Steven bed, not the Lion bed.” Of course, the pink beast refused to so much as budge, prompting Steven to relent and start pushing him off the bed with as much force as he could muster. “Come… on! Whoa!” the young Gem fell abruptly to the floor as Lion suddenly got up, taking the comforter that was still covering him with him. “Hey, that’s mine to!” Steven exclaimed, ripping the blanket away only to discover one of his stuffed animals in Lion’s mouth. “And Sir Bearrington,” he glowered, holding his hand out expectantly. The pink beast handed it over, letting out an aggravated huff as he padded back downstairs in apparent disappointment.

“You know, Lion, I usually love it when you act all cute like this, but it’s kinda late and I’m really tired,” the young Gem sighed in exasperation as he lay down and covered up. “But we can play tomorrow if you want!” Steven let out a tired yawn as he got comfortable, though he didn’t forget to address his pink companion down below one last time. “Anyway, night, Lion!”

Lion let out a simple snore in response, a sign that he was already fast asleep, which was where Steven was quickly headed as well. “Love you…” the young Gem mumbled as his eyes began to grow heavy. “…in the morning…” No sooner had Steven muttered this than he drifted off to sleep as easily as he did every other night.

However, when the young Gem opened his eyes again, he found that he wasn’t in the comfort of the room he had fallen asleep in. Instead, a bright, pastel pink sky met his sigh high above, a fitting coloration to go along with the apparently pink tall grass all around him.

“Whoa…” Steven thought, quite bewildered by his strange new surroundings. “What is this place?” Still confused, the young Gem opened his mouth to take in a breath of air, only to come to the startling realization that air was something this unknown place somehow lacked. “I can’t breathe!” Steven gasped internally, suddenly frantic as he tried to move his arms and legs only to realize they were stuck under something that felt quite heavy.

Just as the young Gem was running out of air and his alarm turned to outright panic, a familiar voice broke through the otherwise breezy silence. “Steven…?” the voice was quite soft at first, but it grew louder and more frightened as the world grew dark in Steven’s vision. “Steven?!”

“Steven!” Pearl cried, aghast at the sight before her. Most of the young Gem’s upper body was pinned under Lion’s fluffy body, his legs kicking in a frenzied attempt to get free. “Steven! Oh my gosh! Oh my gosh!” The white Gem ran to the bed, unsure of what to really do to solve the matter, especially as Steven’s muffled shouts grew louder. “H-hang on! I got you!” Pearl exclaimed, pushing against the pink beast, who stoically refused to so much as even budge. “Ugh, Lion! Let him go!”

Pearl went for a different method upon seeing how irresolute Lion was being, by pulling on Steven’s legs to free him. By now, the pink beast was thoroughly annoyed, which was why he finally relented and stood, releasing Steven and allowing him to take in a large, much needed breath of air at last.

“Oh thank goodness!” Pearl sighed in relief, hugging Steven tightly and cutting off his air once again.

“P-Pearl!” the young Gem exclaimed, his voice tight and breathless. “I can’t-”

“Oh! Sorry!” the white Gem blushed, releasing him and letting him breathe easy once more.

“What… happened?” Steven asked, still panting to regain lost air.

“Steven, are you alright?” Pearl asked with apt concern. “Why was Lion sleeping on top of you?!”

“I don’t know…” Steven frowned, looking to the pink beast sitting nearby. “He’s being a little clingy today. But that’s ‘cause I’m his favorite!” As soon as the young Gem said this, Lion suddenly grabbed him with his paw and shoved his face into his mane. “See?” Steven asked, his voice muffled briefly before he pushed himself away from Lion. “Wait… why are you here, Pearl?”

The white Gem’s former worry quickly turned to sudden nervousness upon hearing this question. “M-me? Nothing!” Steven didn’t really seem to buy this however, as he instead continued to stare at her questioningly. “I was just... uh, well, you know how I always say… um, I just, uh…” Pearl was clearly flustered by this point, as could be told from the sweat beading on her forehead, but she did finally relent and let out the admittedly strange truth. “I like to watch you sleep sometimes. And by sometimes I mean… often.”

Awkward silence filled the room for a moment as Steven wasn’t entirely sure of what to make of this revelation. Still, as troubled as he was by it, he made his stance on the matter clear when he spoke up again. “Okie-dokie, its time for everyone to leave Steven alone. I’m a growing boy and I need my rest.”

Disregarding both Pearl and Lion, Steven marched back to bed and fell onto it with a relaxed sigh. Still, before he could even try to sleep, he noticed Lion still sitting at his bedside, looking down at him intently. “Lion, that means you too,” the young Gem remarked, closing his eyes for a moment before opening them to find both Lion and Pearl still hovering over him. Frustrated, Steven grabbed his pillow and jumped to his feet, swiping at the overprotective pair in an attempt to chase them off. “Rah! Rah!” he shouted, shooing Lion and Pearl (who crawled away on all fours) away at last. “Ugh…” Steven sighed, exasperated as he flopped back onto the bed.

Seeing as how he was already tired, the young Gem hoped that sleep would come easy to him once again. Of course he had only had his eyes closed for a moment or two before he felt a sudden weight on his chest. “Wha-” When Steven opened his eyes, the first thing he saw was Lion, sitting on the best beside him, his large paw resting squarely on top of his chest. “Lion!” the young Gem grumbled, shoving the pink beast’s paw off of him, only for Lion to set it right back down. Steven simply let out a long sigh, looking up to his stubborn pink companion tiredly. “This… this is gonna be a long night, isn’t it?”

“Ready…? Race!”

“Woo!” Mabel cheered, slamming the button on her controller down as the video game kart race began. Dipper was just a split second behind in accelerating, which was more than enough for her to tease him over. “Uh oh, bro-bro, looks like you better wake those reflexes of yours up! Or else you might not win this time around!”

“Mabel, I’ve won the past three races now; my streak isn’t about to end this time,” Dipper grinned triumphantly. “Still, speaking of waking up…” he trailed off with a frown upon noticing the kart that Steven was controlling continually driving straight into the wall.

Confused, the twins paused the game and stole a glance back at the young Gem, who was sitting on his stomach on the bed behind them, snoozing softly, his controller having slipped out of his grasp. “Uh, Steven?” Dipper asked, somewhat concerned, though Steven was still fast asleep.

“Hey, Steven! Wake up!” Mabel exclaimed much more boisterously, giving the young Gem a playful poke on the cheek. This was enough to startle Steven awake, though he was still quite a bit groggy at first.

“Huh?” Steven mumbled, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes as he slowly sat up. “Dipper? Mabel? When did you guys get here?”

“Um, we’ve been here for almost an hour now,” Dipper said with a frown.

“Yeah, and you were a lot more awake when we got here,” Mabel chuckled lightly.

“Oh, right,” the young Gem nodded, fighting to keep his eyes open as he let out a long yawn. “Sorry. I’m just a little…” Steven trailed off as he nodded off again, only to be awaken again by another poke from Mabel. “Tired. I didn’t really sleep that well last night.”

“Why not?” Dipper asked curiously.

“Well,” Steven yawned once more. “It’s all because a certain lion of mine couldn’t stop trying to sleep on top of me last night.” The young Gem sent a sour glare back at Lion, who was curled up for a nap on the other half of the bed.

“Aw! He probably just wanted to cuddle!” Mabel quipped with a charmed smile. “I know what that’s like! Waddles always wants to sleep on top of me all the time too! It’s so precious!”

“Yeah, it was really cute. The only problem is that Lion’s a lot bigger than Waddles is…” Steven frowned. “Between him and Pearl watching me while I was trying to sleep, I barely got any rest last night!”

“Wait, why was Pearl watching you while you slept?” Dipper asked, somewhat disturbed by that fact.

“I… have no idea,” Steven admitted with an equally unsettled frown. “But anyway, I’m so tired I could…” Once again, the young Gem trailed off as his head lolled and he fell into a doze yet again. Dipper was more than prepared to wake him up once more, only for Mabel to beat him to it.

“Oh! Oh! Oh!” she exclaimed loudly, grabbing Steven by the shoulder and shaking him wide awake. “Steven! I have an awesome idea! If you wanna get some extra sleep, you should totally stay at the Mystery Shack tonight! That way Lion can’t get in and sleep on your face and we can have the most epic slumber party ever!”

“Whoa, Mabel, that’s actually a really good idea,” Dipper agreed with a small smile. “Though it probably won’t be too much of a ‘party’ if Steven’s that tired.” He nodded to the young Gem, whose head was resting against his lap as he snored softly.

“Wha-?” Steven perked up a bit upon hearing his name, trying as hard as he could to remain awake. “No way. I’ll totally stay awake long enough for us to… what are we gonna do again?”

“We’re gonna have the slumber party of the ages!” Mabel exclaimed excitedly. “And it’ll be great! We’ll have snacks, do crafts, watch movies, have a pillow fight-”

“And most of all, sleep,” Dipper asserted, reminding Mabel of the very reason why they were planning on doing this. “Right, Steven?”

All Steven could really offer was an exhausted thumbs-up as he flopped onto the bed, far too tired to keep his eyes open for even another second.

Just as they had planned earlier, Steven headed back down to the shack along with the twins later that evening for their impromptu slumber party. The young Gem had made sure to make it very clear to Lion that he was not invited before they left the temple, though the pink beast seemed to take it well enough as he simply settled down on Steven’s bed in his absence. But even so, the kids all settled into the attic relatively early, with the intent of having at least a little fun before going to bed.

“Ok, Steven, this is one of the most important choices we’ll ever make,” Mabel said, her tone quite stern. “Should we make our friendship bracelets with beads or charms?”

“Oh, definitely charms!” Steven exclaimed with a wide smile. “That way they’ll be even more special!”

“Agreed!” Mabel nodded, smiling as well as she prepared to get to work on the craft. “By the way, you don’t mind passing those mini-cupcakes over here, do you?”

“Nope, not at all!” the young Gem complied, handing her the tray of tiny cupcakes they had made earlier. “But only after I have another one,” he laughed, taking one for himself and scarfing it down in one bite.

“Uh, don’t you guys think that maybe you shouldn’t be eating so much sugar right before bed?” Dipper asked as he glanced up from reading his mystery novel.

“What? No way!” Mabel scoffed. “Cupcakes are the number one pre-bedtime snack. All the experts agree!”

“And by experts you mean… you, right?” Dipper asked, raising a caustic eyebrow.

“Yep!” Mabel grinned widely.

“Then there’s pretty much no use trying to argue with that logic then,” Dipper concluded, rolling his eyes.

While Steven and Mabel continued to work on their friendship bracelets, Stan happened to come by to offer the twins his usual nighttime greeting. “Night, kids,” he remarked casually, poking his head into the room briefly.

“Night, Grunkle Stan,” Dipper and Mabel called back in unison.

“Good night, Mr. Pines!” Steven exclaimed brightly, causing the conman to stop in his tracks as he turned and started to leave.

“Hold it,” Stan said as he opened the door wider to take the scene in the attic in. While Dipper was simply sitting in bed reading as usual, Steven and Mabel had their craft supplies and snacks strewn across the floor, to the point that they were covering a great deal of space, including the young Gem’s sleeping bag and overnight bag. Which, of course, was something that caught the conman immediately off guard. “Alright, since when is there one more of you runts than usual?”

“Steven’s staying here tonight, Grunkle Stan!” Mabel exclaimed cheerfully. “We’re having a slumber party!”

“Oh yeah? Says who?” Stan put his hands on his hips. “Because none of you munchkins ever ran this little ‘slumber party’ plan by me first.”

“Oh, please let me stay for just one night, Mr. Pines!” Steven pleaded with sincerity. “I didn’t get any sleep last night because Lion kept sleeping on me and I’m so tired and I need to keep up a healthy sleep schedule or else I won’t-”

“Yeesh, kid, slow it down a second,” the conman interrupted. “What did you say? Your pink pest keeps trying to use you as a pillow or something like that?”

“Uh huh,” the young Gem nodded. “Which is why I need to get a night away. Please? I promise, you won’t even notice I’m here!”

“In case you haven’t noticed, kid, the Mystery Shack isn’t a hotel,” Stan deadpanned. “Though I guess it could be for one night, if you were willing to pay room and bored.”

“I don’t have any money,” Steven pointed out with a frown.

“Well then, I guess you better head on home and get used to that big cat of yours laying on your face!” Stan exclaimed as he started to usher Steven out. “Who knows, maybe it’ll build character or something sappy like that. Now don’t let the door hit you on the way out, kid!”

“Aw…” Steven and Mabel mourned in unison, both of them equally upset about their dashed slumber party plans. Fortunately though, Dipper interjected with an appeal that would hopefully work.

“Grunkle Stan, you’re seriously not about to force Steven to walk all the way up to the temple this late at night, are you?” he asked, raising a suspicious eyebrow.

“What? It’s not that far of a walk. Besides, a little tussle with a wolf or two never hurt anyone,” Stan shrugged, unconcerned. He did pause, however, upon noticing the rather disapproving looks both of the twins were giving him. His resolve crumbled even more upon looking down at Steven, who was returning his gaze with the most convincing pout he could muster. Which, unfortunately for Stan, no one was able to resist. “Ugh, fine!” he finally relented, pushing Steven back into the room. “You can stay, but just for one night! And just for the record, I’m adding this onto your dad’s tab.”

“My dad owes you money, Mr. Pines?” Steven asked curiously.

“He does now,” Stan scowled as he prepared to leave. “Don’t be up all night you three! And keep the noise down.! That goes double for you, Mabel.”

Without any further ado, the conman slammed the door shut, grumbling to himself as he headed downstairs all the while. Steven and Mabel could scarcely contain their shared squeals of delight as they jumped up and down together, overjoyed that their slumber party was saved.

“I said keep it down!” Stan shouted from downstairs, prompting the pair to cut the volume of their celebration a bit.

“Oh, this is so great!” Mabel exclaimed happily. “What should we do next? Play Tangler? Give Waddles a makeover? Make a blanket fort?”

“Go to bed?” Dipper suggested, knowing that once again, Steven and Mabel were missing the point of this slumber party.

“Oh, but it’s so early, Dipper!” Steven said brightly. “It’d be a waste to go to bed now. There’s still so much to do and so many tasty treats we can eat!”

“Uh yeah, about that? You might wanna lay off the sweets this late, Steven,” Dipper advised. “They can give you some pretty out-there dreams. Just ask Mabel.”

“Oh yeah, I have crazy dreams all the time from eating candy before bed!” Mabel exclaimed with a laugh. “One time, I had this dream where I was on a roller coaster, but I was riding a whale down the track and my hair was made out of rainbows! It was so cool!”

“Whoa, I wanna have a dream that cool!” Steven gasped, amazed. “Hand me those cupcakes again, Mabel! They’re gonna help me have the craziest, most awesome dream ever!”

“Yeah!” Mabel cheered, giving him the snacks. “We’re keeping this party going all night!”

“Oh boy…” Dipper sighed, knowing that this night would be a long one for him if no one else.

“Hey, you know what? I feel wide awake now!” Steven exclaimed excitedly. “I must have been so tired earlier that I just overcame it and now my body thinks its daytime again! I’ve conquered sleep itself!”

“All hail Steven the Sleep Conqueror!” Mabel declared with a laugh. “Nighttime and snooze buttons tremble in his presence!”

“You guys, that’s not-” Dipper tried to interject out of exasperation, but he was promptly ignored.

“I couldn’t possibly go to sleep now!” Steven proclaimed brazenly.

“Same here!” Mabel agreed, just as excited. “Let’s stay up all night! Maybe even longer than that!”

“No,” Dipper attempted to protest, but once again, he was outnumbered.

“Yeah!” Steven cheered. “All night! All night!” Mabel soon joined in on this zany chant, while Dipper merely sighed in defeat and continued reading, trying his best to block them out. “All night! All night!”

As it turned out “all night” only ended up being about an hour before all three of the kids ended up clocking out. Of course, Steven was the first to go as his earlier exhaustion returned and hit him hard, to the point that he practically K.O.ed on the floor. Thankfully, his sleeping bag was right underneath him with it happened to cushion the fall and provide him with something soft to lie on. The twins weren’t very long after him in falling asleep, as Mabel’s energy was quickly spent after her and Steven’s short-lived dance party, though she did manage to tiredly climb into bed first. While Dipper was the last to go to bed, he did so in a much more gradual, natural way, seeing as how he hadn’t exactly joined Steven and Mabel in their brief, yet wild escapades. But even so, soon enough the attic was filled with nothing more than the moonlight pouring in through the window and the sound of soft, peaceful snoozing.

The bright sun was warm and crisp as it shined down upon the petite island where Steven sat across from Dogcopter, pondering over what his next move would be as the two engaged in a decisive game of checkers. After a moment or two, the young Gem proudly put his piece down in a move that he knew would win for sure. He was quickly proven wrong however, as Dogcopter set his chess piece piece down on top Steven’s checker piece.

“I win,” Dogcopter concluded, his voice smooth and coming out without the need for him to move his mouth at all.

“Oh what?” Steven asked, looking over the checkerboard with a laugh. “That was a good move.”

“Thanks.”

“Dogcopter, how do you do it?” the young Gem asked, shaking his head in amazement.

“How do I do what?” Dogcopter asked as calmly as ever.

“I mean, what’s your secret? How’d you get so talented?”

“Don’t focus so much on talent, Steven,” Dogcopter advised wisely. “Making art is all about communication. Look to what inspires you and then reshape it into something you love even more.” He paused for a moment to eat his chess piece whole. “Don’t worry about trying to be broad or appeal to everyone. Just be true to yourself, and people will appreciate your honesty.”

“Whoa…” Steven said, taking this somewhat random knowledge to heart. “Thanks for the advice.”

“Of course. Oh and take a deep breath,” Dogcopter said as he suddenly flew away at an alarming speed.

“What?” Before Steven could even comprehend what was happening, the island-scape was in suddenly crumbled apart, though he still had a brief moment to go off of Dogcopter’s advice and suck in a large breath as everything faded to black.

When the young Gem opened his eyes again, he once again found himself surrounded by the very same pink grass he had been in during his dreams the previous night. “Here again?” Steven thought curiously. Knowing that he wouldn’t have any air here, he continued to hold what breath he did have as he popped up a bit higher in the grass, allowing him to see that the grassy expanse stretched on for what seemed like forever. “I don’t know what this place is but it feels… familiar…” the young Gem continued to internally muse. “Why can’t I breathe? Wait a minute… Lion!”

As Steven began to struggle underneath Lion’s weight outside of his dream, he easily managed to wake Dipper and Mabel up, even though they had somehow both slept through the pink beast barging into the attic in the first place. “Ugh… what’s going on?” Mabel asked drowsily as she sat up in bed, her hair a mess as she resisted the urge to flop back onto her pillow.

“I don’t know…” Dipper mumbled just as tiredly, only for his eyes to go wide upon seeing the odd sight in the middle of the room. “Wait, Lion?!”

“Ugh!” Steven shouted, finally pushing Lion off of him. “Lion! My face is not your bed!”

“Steven, how in the world did Lion get into the shack?” Dipper asked, rather alarmed as both him and Mabel got out of bed. “I thought you told him to stay back up at the temple!”

“Aw, looks like somebody was all lonely after not being invited to our slumber party,” Mabel said with a charmed smile as she reached out to pet Lion, only to have her advance be rejected with a sullen growl. “Whoa! Well excuse me, Mr. Night Owl.”

“Lion, that’s so not like you!” Steven scolded. “You love it when Mabel pets you! What’s going on with you lately?”

Lion had no chance to respond in any way as the already opened attic door burst open even moreso as Stan charged into the room, baseball bat in hand as he prepared to attack any apparent assailants. “Kids, somebody’s broken into the shack!” he shouted, glancing around the room with a fierce glare. “The front door was wide open! I don’t know how they managed to get past me, but when I catch that lousy, no-account beginner, whoever they are, I’m gonna-” The conman cut himself off upon seeing the pink beast sitting next to Steven, getting his answer. “Oh. Well I guess this is my fault then. I should have figured this would happen if I let you stay here, kid.”

“Oh, I’m really, really, sorry, Mr. Pines!” Steven apologized earnestly. “I don’t know how Lion managed to get in here, but I can promise you he’s going home right now.” The young Gem sent annoyed glare to his companion, who simply returned it with a much softer, almost apologetic glance.

“You’re darn right he is,” Stan remarked with a frustrated scowl. “It’s bad enough I have to babysit you for one night, kid. I’m not running an animal shelter here with that thing too! Now come on, pinky. Beat it.” Of course, Lion simply turned his nose up at the conman’s harsh manner, aggravating him even further. “Oh yeah? That’s how you wanna be? Well two can play at this game.” Putting his bat down, Stan marched over to Lion, reaching out to grab the pink beast by the ear and drag him out himself. However, he only narrowly missed having his hand scratched as Lion suddenly lashed his paw out at him with a fierce warning growl.

“Lion!” Steven gasped, appalled by the pink beast’s suddenly violent behavior.

“O-on second thought,” Stan backed away from Lion a bit, especially as the pink beast continued to growl at him. “He can stay. Heck, I-I’ll even make him breakfast in the morning, yeah! Just as long as he keeps those claws of his far away from me.”

The kids all exchanged a disappointed glance as the conman quickly retreated, not even bothering to exchange another glance with the perturbed pink beast as he left. “Well, we can always count on Stan to be helpful in a pinch,” Dipper remarked sarcastically.

“I just don’t get it…” Steven frowned to Lion, who remained close by his side. “What’s wrong with you, Lion? You’re acting so weird. Weirder than usual, I mean.”

The pink beast simply responded by letting out a loud groan as he rolled onto his back, giving the young Gem a pleading look as he exposed his soft stomach. “Oh my gosh,” Mabel whispered, completely charmed by this. “How can he be so cute?!”

“Wait… you just wanted a belly rub?” the young Gem asked, confused.

“Oh come on,” Dipper shook his head. “He couldn’t have come all the way down here just so you could give him a belly rub. Could he?”

Lion let out another small roar in reply, giving Steven more than enough of a proper answer. “You never let me touch your belly!” he exclaimed, delighted as he rushed to rub the pink beast’s stomach. Mabel hurried over to join him, but before she could get close enough, Lion suddenly grabbed Steven with his front paws and pulled him close in something of a hug. Startled, the young Gem struggled to free himself from Lion’s surprisingly strong hold. “Ah! It’s a trap!” he cried, briefly lifting himself off of the pink beast’s chest. “An adorable trap!”

“Steven!” both twins gasped worriedly, both of them hurrying to Lion to try and save the young Gem. However, as they got close, the pink beast sent them a loud growl, as if he was telling them to both back off, which they hesitantly did.

“What do we do? What do we do?!” Mabel asked fretfully. “We can’t let Lion smoother Steven with hugs! No matter how sweet it is!”

“Well we can’t let ourselves get mauled by an actual lion, Mabel!” Dipper protested, not wanting to be on the receiving end of Lion’s wrath yet again.

“Guys!” Steven exclaimed as he struggled to lift his head to catch a breath. “It’s ok! I-I’m… fine!”

“Really? Because it honestly doesn’t look like it, what with Lion trying to suffocate you and everything!” Dipper exclaimed in disbelief.

“N-no! I’m-” Steven cut himself off with annoyed huff, blowing some of Lion’s fur out of his face. “Ok, Lion, you got me. Will you finally let me go now?” Despite his pleas, the pink beast remained resolute, refusing to let the young Gem go for anything. “Come on! Ugh!” As Steven tried to pull himself free from Lion’s grip once more, the pastel beast retaliated by pushing him down once again, this time digging his claws into the young Gem’s back to ensure that he’d say put this time. “Ow!” Steven cried, finally provoked enough to pull himself away from Lion entirely.

“Whoa, Steven, are you ok?!” Mabel asked with concern, running over to check on him.

“Ugh, yeah I’m fine,” Steven sighed, rubbing his back in annoyance. “But Lion’s not!” He sent a very disapproving glare to his pink companion, who merely returned it with a questioning look, as though he had done nothing wrong. “That’s it, Lion! You’re on time out!” Firm in his resolve, Steven marched over to Lion and began pushing him out of the attic as much as he could. “You’re going outside to think about what you’ve done!”

“Uh, Steven? I really don’t think that’s working,” Dipper said with a doubtful frown as Lion remained as still as a statue, despite Steven’s best attempts to move him.

“No, I-I just gotta—whoa!” the young Gem suddenly stumbled backwards as Lion turned around on him, though fortunately, the pink beast didn’t try to shove his face into his mane this time. Steven took a cautious step back from his pink companion, who gave him what seemed to be a genuinely sad look, his ears flopped down and his eyes doleful and pleading. The young Gem could hardly deny how adorable Lion looked like this, especially as he blinked slowly and sweetly, filling both Steven and Mabel with absolute delight.

“He loves me!” Steven whispered with an enchanted gasp.

“And I love him!” Mabel quipped, just as enthralled. “He’s just so precious!”

“You guys can’t be serious, right?” Dipper asked with a scoff as Steven and Mabel rushed over to Lion. “Steven, you do remember how he nearly smothered you just a minute ago, don’t you?”

“Aw, I know. But I just can’t stay mad at that face!” Steven exclaimed warmly, throwing his arms around Lion in a wide hug. “You’re a wonderful human being, Lion! Except you’re not. ‘Cause you’re a lion.”

As Steven pressed his face into Lion’s mane, a soft pink light suddenly started to emit from it, startling both the twins quite a bit when they noticed it.

“Whoa…” Mabel gasped, amazed.

“What the…?” Dipper frowned in absolute bewilderment.

Yet despite their confusion, no one was more confused than Steven himself as he opened his eyes to find himself amidst the tall pink grass yet again, even though he was sure he was awake. Startled and bewildered, Steven pushed himself out of Lion’s mane as he took in a sharp gasp, only to find himself back in the attic once again and the twins staring at him with wide eyes.

“Steven, that was so cool,” Mabel whispered, awestruck.

“What was that?” Dipper asked, completely confounded.

“I don’t-” Steven cut himself off as he looked to Lion once again, noticing that the place where his hand rested on the pink beast’s mane was still glowing brightly. After exchanging a tentative glance with the twins, the young Gem sucked in a deep breath and plunged his head inside Lion’s mane once more, arriving in the wide pink field of his dreams yet again. “I’m inside Lion’s mane?!” Steven thought, alarmed at this revelation. Then again, it did make sense in a way that he had dreamed of this place every time Lion had slept on him over the past few nights. Still, the idea that an entire world seemed to exist within the pink beast’s mane was both incredible and unbelievable.

As Steven pulled himself out of Lion’s mane again, neither Dipper nor Mabel had any time to ask him any questions about it as he took in another deep breath and went in again, over and over again just out of his own curiosity and entertainment. While Steven laughed over how fun it was, Lion let out an unamused growl while both of the twins were clearly in suspense over what exactly the young Gem was seeing.

“Sorry,” Steven chuckled, giving Lion an apologetic grin. “I couldn’t resist.”

“So what’s in there?” Mabel asked, overwhelmed with curiosity. “More of Lion’s super-soft fur?”

“No, actually,” Steven shook his head, turning away from Lion briefly. “I don’t really know how to explain it but, like… there’s a huge field full of pink grass in there! Almost like it’s a whole other world, one that doesn’t really have any air in it, but it’s still so awesome!”

“What?” Dipper asked, puzzled. “Steven, that’s imp—Ok, you know what, maybe it’s not impossible given everything we’ve seen this summer, but still. How could an entire world fit inside Lion’s mane?”

“Who cares?” Mabel asked excitedly, running up to the pink beast. “I wanna see it!” Taking in a deep breath just as Steven had, Mabel shoved her face squarely into Lion’s mane, only for it to remain as solid and fluffy as ever. “Aw, what gives, Lion?” she frowned, pulling away from him a bit. “You’re not gonna let me in to see your pink grass dimension?”

“Maybe only I’m allowed in there…” Steven purposed thoughtfully, placing his hand against Lion’s mane and watching it light up again.

“Well then go in there and check it out!” Mabel urged. “And tell us everything about it! Considering how amazing Lion is, there’s bound to be some great stuff in there!”

“Uh, that might not be such a good idea, Steven,” Dipper cautioned much more rationally. “Who knows how big it really is in there? What if you get lost or run out of air or something?”

“Aw, Lion won’t let that happen,” Steven reassured the pink beast, who continued to stare down at him as stoically as ever. “After all, he did all this just so I could see that place. There’s gotta be something in there I’m meant to see, right?”

“Oh! What if there’s another, smaller version of Lion inside Lion’s mane?!” Mabel theorized zealously. “And another Lion inside that Lion’s mane! You know, like those cute little dolls that go inside each other.”

Dipper rolled his eyes upon hearing this rather outlandish idea, but Steven was intrigued by it nonetheless. “Well, I guess there’s only one way to find out,” the young Gem said with resolve. “I’m going in.” Without any further hesitation, Steven jumped right into the still-glowing opening in Lion’s mane, which closed the moment he disappeared into it entirely.

“Good luck, Steven!” Mabel called out after him. “Oh, and if you really do get lost in there, I call dibs on your Crying Breakfast Friends special edition box set!”

“Mabel!” Dipper scolded succinctly over his sister’s tactlessness.

Still, Steven didn’t really hear either of them as he emerged inside the pink grass yet again, holding onto the breath he had taken as he looked around curiously. “Am I… supposed to do something in here?” the young Gem thought to himself, still uncertain of why Lion was so insistent on showing him this mysterious place. He paused, however, as he caught sight of something rising over the grass afar in the distance, something that looked like the vague silhouette of a tree amidst the pale pink sky.

“Wha…?” Curious, Steven started making his way towards the tree, easily pushing his way through the tall grass as he got ever closer to the hill it was perched atop. It was quite tall and beautiful, with long branches adorned with pink leaves, in keeping with the color scheme. A variety of different items seemed to congregated around the tree, but unfortunately, Steven wasn’t able to get a good look at any of it before he finally ran out of air, prompting him to dive back into the grass with the hopes of getting more.

The twins both gasped in surprise as the young Gem’s head popped out of Lion’s main, though they did wait a moment for him to catch his breath before bombarding him with questions.

“So, what’s it like in there?” Mabel asked with a huge smile, completely intrigued. “Did you find anything cool or magical or anything that looked like a tiny Lion?”

“Or was it just a huge empty expanse of nothingness?” Dipper asked, still skeptical of the entire concept.

“No, there’s something in there!” Steven exclaimed. “It was a tree!”

“A tree?” both twins asked with confused frowns.

“Yeah, and there was all sorts of stuff lying all around it.”

“What kind of ‘stuff’?” Dipper asked, seeing as how that was a very vague description.

Steven paused for a moment, unsure of how to describe any of what he had only seen in the brief glance he had caught of it. “Hold on a second,” he said before heading back into Lion’s mane with a deep inhale.

As the young Gem poked his head through the grass again, he found himself at the foot of the tree’s hill, conveniently enough. Pushing through the last of the grass, Steven steadily scaled the hill, stopping as he stood before it and looked over the fascinating collection before him.

Standing at the far side of the tree’s base was a torn and tattered pink flag, adorned with an elegant rose design as it waved in the invisible wind of the area. Resting over one of the branches above it was a bubbled gemstone, much like the ones in the temple, rectangular in shape is it descended down into something of an upside down pyramid. Steven was also quite surprised to see the large pink sword that him, the twins, and Connie had pulled out of Lion’s mane the other week, digging into the ground near the tree. Then again, he figured it would make sense for its usual home to be here, all things considered. On another branch hung what the young Gem recognized to be one of his father’s shirts from his touring days, a large black tee with the “Mr. Universe logo” branded upon it. A large chest was also resting near the tree, a photograph of Rose and Greg resting against it, the very same one the former rock star had in his storage shed. Still curious, Steven glanced just a little ways past the chest to see a long glass tube sitting behind it with a label that read “Crystal Gems” in elegant cursive. Something else was written underneath that, but the young Gem couldn’t exactly make it out given how the tube was partially rolled over.

However, what caught Steven’s eye the most out of all of these various items was, oddly enough, a VHS tape sitting right at his feet. Intrigued, he picked it up and looked over the label on its side, which was simply marked: “For Steven.”

“For me?” Steven wondered, frowning down at the tape. “Who would put this here? And how does this huge place fit inside of Lion’s mane anyw-” The young Gem’s musings were abruptly cut off as he realized he was all too quickly running out of air again. His already palpable panic grew as he realized the hill he was on was solid; the only way out was, of course, through the grass.

Grasping onto the tape tightly, Steven began bounding down the hill, feeling his lungs tighten with each footfall. It really didn’t help matters, however, when his foot caught on a rock, which sent him pummeling to the ground hard and resulted in him rolling down the hill and into the grass uncontrollably.

While Steven was exploring whatever Lion’s mane had to offer, the twins remained standing by, anxiously waiting as seconds started to turn into minutes. “Uh… do you think he’s ok in there?” Dipper asked his sister with ever growing concern.

“I’m sure he is,” Mabel shrugged blithely. “It’s he, Lion?” She grinned to the pink beast, who simply shoved her away from him with a simple push of his paw. Of course, Mabel was hardly offended by this as she instead let out an amused laugh amidst falling to the ground. “Aw, love pats!”

“Mabel, that wasn’t-” Dipper was suddenly interrupted as Steven fell cleanly out of Lion’s mane, letting out a sharp gasp as he fell on his back.

“Steven!” the twins exclaimed, shocked as they hurried over to him.

“Are you ok?” Dipper asked, offering a hand to help Steven up.

“Um… yeah, I think so,” the young Gem replied, still a bit breathless as he stood.

“What’s that?” Mabel asked nodded to the tape in Steven’s hands. “Oh! Is it a movie?”

“I… don’t really know what this is,” Steven frowned down at the tape. “I just sorta found it in there, and it says its for me, and I just… took it.”

“But why would there be a video tape inside of Lion’s-” Dipper abruptly cut himself off in the middle of his question, letting out a tired sigh before restarting. “You know what? I feel like that’s definitely not the right question to ask about all this.”

“You’re right! The right question to ask is: can we see what’s on it?” Mabel asked Steven with a eager grin.

Steven shrugged as he glanced over to Lion, who had finally settled down for a nap, his mission apparently accomplished, whatever it was. “I don’t see why not.”

Seeing as how it was already early morning anyway, the kids hurried downstairs to as quietly as they could, as not to frustrate Stan anymore than they already had that night alone. Lion padded along after them, but took to cuddling in the corner of the den with Waddles as the kids all got comfy around the TV in preparation for their viewing.

“Hey, dorks,” Wendy greeted with a tired yawn as she stepped into the room, having just arrived for her early morning shift. “You guys are up early. What, did you have a crazy slumber party and stay up all night?”

“Uh, yeah, actually,” Dipper admitted with a shrug.

“Steven found a video tape inside of Lion’s mane, so now we’re gonna watch it!” Mabel explained in her usual excitable way.

“A tape, huh?” Wendy chuckled, taking a seat on the arm of the chair. “Mind if I join you guys then? Anything’s better than having to open up the gift shop this early.”

“Sure, Wendy. Let’s just start it up here and…” Steven smiled as he put the tape into the VHS player. No one really said anything else as the young Gem pushed play and returned to his seat, mostly as everyone looked to the static-filled screen out of curiosity, until a clear image finally appeared.

The first scene of the mysterious tape was a familiar one; namely, it was a wide shot of the woods near the temple, the bright sun shining through the trees as birdsong echoed in the background. Static suddenly filled the screen once again as the image cut to another one, this time of the bright blue skies above, clouds lazily floating through them.

The kids were all admittedly initially unimpressed by this seemingly random collection of nature shots. However, their shared interest was instantly peaked the moment the Gem temple appeared on screen. The camera tilted down to where the house usually would have been, only to reveal that it was gone and the warp pad and temple door could now be clearly seen instead.

Once again, the tape cut back to the woods, only this time, it panned over to a much younger version of Greg, his hair still full and long as he attempted to climb a nearby tree, to little avail. Somewhere off screen, a soft, feminine voice let out a gentle chuckle, amused by the former rock star’s antics. “What are you doing?”

Steven took in a sharp gasp upon hearing this voice, not immediately recognizing it, though his eyes wide as he put the pieces together. Inside Lion’s mane, the tape had been sitting right next to a photo of his parents. And if Greg himself was in the tape, then that meant that the only one who could be filming it was... his mother.

Rose Quartz.

Dipper, Mabel, and Wendy all looked to the young Gem with soft smiles as they apparently all reached the same realization. Still, no one spoke as the tape continued. The next shot was of Greg, lying in the middle of the clearing they were shooting in, fast asleep as a squirrel sat upon his stomach.

Rose let out another warm laugh at this, her voice melodious and inviting as she whispered to the camera. “Greg made a friend.” The peaceful moment was soon shattered, however, as the squirrel suddenly chattered loudly, startling Greg wide awake.

“Wha-?!” the former rock star exclaimed, startled as he quickly sat up and scared the squirrel off. Rose laughed again, catching Greg’s attention and causing him to blush in slight embarrassment over his unnecessary panic.

The next shot was of Greg himself, standing against the forest as he looked into the camera somewhat awkwardly. “Go on…” Rose urged gently.

“Sorry, I’m getting stage fright here,” Greg admitted, glancing away.

“Tell us about yourself,” the pink Gem encouraged once more.

“Well… let’s see here,” the former rock star began thoughtfully. “My name is… Greg. No, no no!” he suddenly panicked. “This is all wrong!”

Once again, the tape cut, this time to a bird nesting high in a tree. “Ok, go!” Greg exclaimed off-screen, prompting Rose to tilt the camera down to him. The former rock star grinned daringly, his guitar perched and ready to play as he wore a pair of dark sunglasses. “They call me…” Greg trailed off, strumming his guitar broadly. “Mr. Universe! Get ready, baby! You’re gonna have the coolest dad this side of the cosmos!” Greg smirked as he plucked at his guitar once more, singing along to his light riff. “Press the button, Rose!”

“Oh, right!” Rose exclaimed, hitting a button that caused a colorful stream to wash over the screen. “Was that the right one?”

“Uh… maybe?” Greg shrugged.

“Now, what does this one do?” Rose wondered, hitting another button that caused a star to iris out to black before cutting once more.

When the screen cleared again, Greg was sitting in the middle of the clearing, his back turned to the camera as he strummed his guitar peacefully, a contented smile on his face. After a moment of this gentle, calming melody, Rose began to speak. “Isn’t it remarkable, Steven? This world is full of so many possibilities. Each living things has an entirely unique experience. The sights they see, the sounds they hear, the lives they live… are so complicated… a-and so simple…”

Tears were already forming in the young Gem’s eyes as he listened to his mother’s beautiful message to him, hanging onto every love-filled word she spoke. His already touched smile grew even wider as she continued. “And there’s no place on this planet where that’s more clear to see than right here, in Gravity Falls,” Rose went on, panning the camera around to the trees. She gradually turned the camera in a full circle as she spoke, the shot landing on the Mystery Shack down below for a moment or two. “There are things here that I’ve never seen anywhere else, things that still amaze me every time I encounter them. So many strange, yet wonderful creatures and people… I can’t wait for you to join them. This place is so special to me, Steven. And I hope that it will become just as special to you too someday…”

Rose paused as she turned the camera away from the shack and towards herself instead. Her luxurious curls spilled over her shoulders as gently as ever as she looked into the camera, her expression sincere yet hopeful. “Steven,” she said, her voice filled with both affection and intention. “We can’t both exist. I’m going to become half of you. And I need you to know that every moment you love being yourself, that’s me, loving you and loving being you. Because you’re going to be something extraordinary.” Rose pulled the camera a bit closer to her, a warm, loving smile crossing her features. “You’re going to be a human being.”

“Hey, Rose!” Greg called from off-screen, diverting the pink Gem’s attention for a moment. Still, she looked to the camera one last time, giving one final message to her then-unborn son.

“Take care of them, Steven.”

The shot changed one last time as Rose set the camera down, revealing the Gem on her very-pregnant stomach. Her curls twisted casually as she walked over to Greg, who placed a gentle hand on her stomach as well. The battery meter in the corner of the screen began to blink red as the couple leaned in for a kiss.

And just like that, it was over.

Static crackled on the screen for another moment or two before it cut to black and the tape popped out of the player. Needless to say that no one’s eyes were dry in the aftermath of watching such a touching, inspiring message. Still, Stan had no idea of this as he barged into the room as gruffly as he usually did.

“Alright, kids, enough loungin’ around in here,” the conman remarked stoically. “It’s time to open-” Stan cut himself off as the group around the TV all looked to him, the tears in their eyes still quite clear. Surprised and unsure of what to say in light of this, the conman backed out of the room slowly, allowing the twins to get up and pass by him first. “What the heck did you kids watch?” he asked, confounded.

Neither Dipper nor Mabel offered their uncle any real response, however as they dried their respective tears and exchanged a soft smile. Neither of them were really sure what to say after what they had just watched themselves, but that was fine. After all, not much else was needed after something like that. “Are you thinking what I’m thinking, bro-bro?” Mabel asked after a moment of tentative silence.

“That we should call Mom and thank her for the care package?” Dipper guessed, still smiling.

“Yep,” Mabel nodded happily.

“Oh, definitely,” Dipper readily agreed. “I feel like we’d be crazy not to after… well, you know.” The twins shared another warm grin as they headed for the phone, still leaving the conman quite in the dark about everything.  

“Wait, kids? Is someone gonna fill me in on what’s going on?” Stan asked, somewhat disgruntled. “Kids!”

Steven hugged his mother’s tape close to his chest as he pulled it out of the VHS player. His eyes were still wet with happy tears as he looked to his name on the side of it, no doubt written there by Rose herself. The young Gem had always wanted to meet his mother for himself somehow, even if he knew it was impossible. And while this wasn’t exactly the same as speaking to her face to face, it was certainly the next best thing.

“Steven, wait up,” Wendy stopped the young Gem before he could leave the room. She was just finishing wiping away her own tears as she smiled down at him, her usually casual manner shaken somewhat. “Um… well, uh… You know, if y-you ever need to talk to someone about the whole… ‘no mom’ thing… you can always talk to me. I know how that feels, after all.”

“Thanks, Wendy,” Steven said with a warm smile. “And… I’m sorry again about your mom. I bet she was really nice, like my mom was.”

“She was…” Wendy said with a wistful sigh. “But like I said, its ok, dude. We actually have a bunch of tapes of her at home just like your mom’s. Ok, well, maybe not just like hers’ but still. We have something to remember her by.”

“Yeah…” Steven grinned, looking down to the tape in his hands contentedly. “Something to remember her by…”

“Anyway, I better get to work before Stan has an aneurism,” the cashier joked, her usual playful ways returning. “See you later, Steven.”

“Bye!” Steven called after Wendy as she headed into the gift shop. Knowing he had to get ready for the day himself, the young Gem started to head for the door, Lion trailing not too far behind him. Steven was startled a bit as Lion bumped his head against his back, catching his attention gently. “Thanks, Lion,” he said with complete sincerity, embracing the pink beast. After all, if not for his efforts, then Steven might have never found this tape at all and might have never gotten to know his mother, even in this very simple way. A happy sigh escaped young Gem as he looked down to the tape one last time, his mother’s loving words of wisdom still echoing inside his mind.

“Take care of them, Steven…”

The young Gem leaned his head against Lion’s chest as he closed his eyes, clinging onto the image of his mother’s kind, smiling face. It was an image that would only ever exist for him in photos and tapes, but perhaps that was really all he needed. For now. “Don’t worry,” Steven promised in a gentle, blissful whisper, one that he knew the half of him that was Rose would certainly hear. “I will.”

Next: 

[jeroldlockettus]

How Spotify Saved the Music Industry (But Not Necessarily Musicians)

Daniel Ek, a 23-year-old Swede who grew up on pirated music, made the record labels an offer they couldn’t refuse: a legal platform to stream all the world’s music. Spotify reversed the labels’ fortunes, made Ek rich, and thrilled millions of music fans. But what has it done for all those musicians stuck in the long tail?

Listen and subscribe to our podcast at Apple Podcasts, Stitcher, or elsewhere. Below is a transcript of the episode, edited for readability.

For more information on the people and ideas in the episode, see the links at the bottom of this post.

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Over the past year or two, we’ve done a couple special series of episodes. One was called “How to Be Creative”; the other was “The Secret Life of a C.E.O.” You wouldn’t think those two themes would intersect all that often. But today, they do — in a rare conversation with this man:

Daniel EK: My name is Daniel Ek and I’m the C.E.O. and founder of Spotify.

How does Daniel Ek define Spotify’s mission?

EK: So the way I think about our mission is to inspire human creativity by enabling a million artists to be able to live off of their art and a billion people to be able to enjoy and be inspired by it.

Spotify, if you don’t know, is a Swedish music-streaming service with roughly 100 million paid subscribers. Another 100-million-plus listen free on an ad-supported model. But it’s the subscribers that drive 90 percent of the company’s revenue. Ek co-founded the company in 2006, at age 23. It went public in 2018 and its market cap is now around $25 billion. Billion, with a b. For a company that doesn’t really make anything — other than making the connection between a beloved product and people who want to consume that product. The Spotify story is a singular story about the sudden transformation of an old, hidebound industry; it’s also a story about digital piracy, bandwidth, and of course about creativity; oh, also: it’s about the future of podcasting. In person, Daniel Ek is mild-mannered and unexcitable; he doesn’t soundlike an anarchist. But don’t be fooled.

EK: I think we are in the process of creating a more fair and equal music industry than it’s ever been in the past.

*      *      *

Depending on your personal perspective, Spotify is either an idealized digital jukebox or, as Radiohead’s Thom Yorke once put it, “the last desperate fart of a dying corpse.” Yorke wasn’t the only musician to hate on Spotify, especially in its earlier years. The Beatles and Pink Floyd famously kept their music off Spotify, as did some younger musicians:

ABC News anchor: Superstar Taylor Swift abruptly pulling all her albums from the streaming service Spotify, just days after the release of her hot new album 1989.

Today, Taylor Swift, Pink Floyd, the Beatles, and Radiohead can all be heard on Spotify. The barriers that might have made Spotify seem impossible have mostly been leveled. Primarily by one person: Daniel Ek. He grew up in a working-class neighborhood of Stockholm. These days, he spends about one week a month in New York, but he still lives in Stockholm.

EK: Yeah, and I have two very young kids, so one has just turned four and one is about to turn six.

DUBNER: You’re in the middle of it, aren’t you?

EK: I’m definitely in the middle of it.

One constant throughout Ek’s life has been music.

EK: So my grandfather was an opera singer and my grandmother, she was an actress but also a jazz pianist. So in my family learning music was almost an essential. It was probably more important than you going to college or university at that level. And in Sweden, we have public music education, so it almost costs nothing to get music education in Sweden and my cousin told me — he was way older than me — and was like, “You should learn how to play the guitar because that’s how you get girls.” And I was four or five at the time and definitely didn’t realize why that was a big thing. But I really thought he was really cool. So I was like, OK, well, he must know something, so I learned how to play the guitar. And then about the same time, I got my first computer. And that was a seminal inflection point because I had these two parallel interests that were both formed at a very, very young age.

For a time, Ek thought he might become a full-time musician. But the other interest began to win out.

EK: I think it was 1996 I got broadband Internet. It was like 10 megabits and when you think about it today — because it took until maybe two, three years ago until the average person in the U.S. even had that. But I had it in 1997 and —

DUBNER: And that was just a Swedish thing.

EK: That was just a Swedish thing, because the Swedes said, “Look, we believe everyone should have broadband. That’s going to be a big thing and by the way, we’ll subsidize your PC too, and it will cost $500 and you can get state-of-the-art PC.” So I had this virtually new computer which was subsidized by the government. I had this broadband that was subsidized by the government. And I went on the internet obviously all the time. The problem was there wasn’t really a lot to do on the internet except reading stuff. So I read a lot of stuff, but it wasn’t like the internet had movies for streaming or music or any of that stuff. And on came Napster. And it was a pure epiphany for me because you can search for any kind of music in the world. And within 10, 15 minutes you could have the entire album and you can listen to it, which was amazing.

Napster, which launched in 1999, became the most prominent peer-to-peer file-sharing service. And by “peer-to-peer file-sharing service,” I mean a piece of software that let a user like Daniel Ek download music files directly from the hard drives of other Napster users all over the world. Which meant that if one person bought a CD and copied it onto their hard drive, and shared it on Napster, all of a sudden, an infinite number of people could own it. For free. One problem: this is an infringement of copyright, and totally illegal. At least in most places. Sweden did not forbid the downloading of pirated content until 2005; the country became an international hub for illegal downloads and even gave rise to a political party, the Pirate Party, that won seats in the European Parliament. I asked Ek whether he had thought about the legality of music piracy.

EK: Yeah, I thought about it. But I was 14. It wasn’t like it was a big thing. And since it was so easy to access and the alternative was for me to go out and buy a record with money I didn’t have, it was like the only option. So it was this weird thing where you start off with something and all of a sudden, maybe I was — wanted to listen to Metallica and all of a sudden realized that this person also had King Crimson. Which was like, “Oh, holy shit, I didn’t know that Metallica was inspired by those guys.” And Led Zeppelin and Beatles and all the seminal ones that all of a sudden you start listening to. Or prog music or Jimi Hendrix’s entire discography. It brought me this weird sense of very broad music education and quite eclectic taste, which in turn got me even further into music. I mean, I don’t think I would have been that interested in music if it weren’t for piracy, to be honest, because I come from a working-class family. We couldn’t afford all the records that I wanted.

Napster became very large very fast. You might have thought the music industry would see this growth as a natural expression of demand for their product, and try to find a way to exploit that demand. But they didn’t see it that way. They saw piracy as nothing but theft. And as the music industry began to go the way of many fading 20th-century industries, they blamed their decline on piracy.

A pair of economists wrote a research paper at the time which found that illegal downloads in fact did almost nothing to affect music sales. They wrote: “Our estimates are inconsistent with claims that file-sharing is the primary reason for the decline in music sales.” The idea here was that the kind of people who illegally downloaded music weren’t the kind of people who were going to pay $15 for a CD anyway. Daniel Ek certainly wasn’t going to pay $15 for one CD. What he found ludicrous was that the only choice the music industry gave you was $15 for one CD versus zero dollars for all the music in the world.

EK: My view is that the music industry has always been excluding the vast majority of its potential. And what do I mean by that? Well, at the peak of the recorded-music industry, 2001, it was about 200 million people who were participating in the economy, who bought records. So was it 200 million people who were listening to music? No, of course not. That number was in the billions. So what the music industry did fairly well was they priced a product at a premium for an audience that was willing to pay for it. But it only captured a very, very small portion of the revenues. So what was obvious to me as I started using Napster back in the day, it was just, this is a way better product than going to a record store, there ought to be a way where you can give consumers what they want and at the same time make it work for artists.

DUBNER: As you got to know the record labels over time, years after Napster started, do you think they regretted not having partnered with Napster earlier?

EK: I definitely think so. I mean, in hindsight they probably realized that it was the wrong thing, but they thought by shutting it down that they’ve contained the problem and didn’t realize that it would just create seven new ones.

The music industry did get Napster shut down, but it had to keep playing whack-a-mole with a bunch of new pirated-music services.

EK: If you think about piracy for music, what it really forced in this first incarnation was the unbundling of the album.

Unbundling the album, that is, into single songs.

EK: So Apple then created a business of that by selling songs for 99 cents.

Apple, by way of iTunes, introduced the world to legal music downloading. It had taken Apple a while, but they finally succeeded in negotiating the rights with record labels. Daniel Ek, meanwhile, was having a lot of success himself.

EK: I started web-design companies, web-hosting companies, and a bunch of different companies.

He actually started doing this work when he was 14. By the time he was 18, he had a couple dozen programmers working for him. He enrolled at the Royal Institute for Technology but only lasted a couple months. Starting and selling internet companies was more fun. Ek was a millionaire by the time he was 23, and he started living like one: a fancy apartment, nightclubs, a red Ferrari. All this left him flat, and depressed. As he’d later tell Forbes magazine: “I was deeply uncertain of who I was and who I wanted to be. I really thought I wanted to be a much cooler guy than I was.” He moved into a cabin in the woods, back near his family; he played guitar, meditated, and over time thought up the idea for Spotify. It was very simple, really: an essentially infinite library of all the music in the world, available instantaneously, to anyone with an internet connection. How hard could that be? Ek and his co-founder, Martin Lorentzon, had two fundamental problems to solve: building the technology to allow for the instantaneous streaming of music; and persuading the rights-holders of all the music in the world to go into business with a brand-new company from Sweden — a country famous for its music piracy — and headed by a man who’d grown up on pirated music.

EK: There’s many different pirates, we would put it. There’s the pirates who just religiously feel like everything should be free. We were never that. Sean Parker definitely was never that either.

Sean Parker as in the co-founder of Napster; Parker later provided some venture capital to Spotify.

EK: There’s the other group who just looks at it like, this is the kind of consumer experience that makes sense and that’s how the world will look at it.

DUBNER: So then how professional of a pirate were you? What was the highest level of professionalism of piracy you ever accomplished? It was uTorrent, was that the name of the company?

EK: So actually this is probably an unknown part of the story. I wasn’t very much at all a professional pirate. At the time as I was thinking about starting Spotify, my co-founder, who’s not very technical, said to me, “Hey, there’s my friend who’s asking me about this programmer and he needs some advice.” And I was kind of dismissive about the whole idea and then he told me the name of this programmer and this guy was the founder of uTorrent.

This guy was Ludvig Strigeus, and uTorrent was a piece of file-sharing software that was particularly useful for digital piracy.

EK: And he’s a legendary engineer and I knew about him from engineering circles as being one of those persons who wins a lot of competitions for being great engineers. And I was like, “I have to meet this person.” And he had started this thing, just a fun side project, and it was uTorrent and it was growing very massively. We were actually trying to recruit him to come to Spotify. And he was like, “Well, I got this thing, uTorrent, and I don’t really know what to do with it.” So we persuaded him to sell uTorrent to us instead. And the whole idea from the beginning was actually to fold it because we didn’t really care about it.

DUBNER: Because by then you’re saying you already had a vision of how to make this the legit model work?

EK: Yeah yeah.

Spotify did install Strigeus as a top engineer at Spotify; and they didn’t shut down uTorrent — they sold it, to BitTorrent, the huge peer-to-peer protocol. I asked Daniel Ek which early task had been harder: building out Spotify’s technology or persuading the record companies to let him stream their music.

EK: Well, it’s hard at different stages. So first, you need to have a really good idea of what it is that you’re trying to solve. And in our case it wasn’t necessarily that the technology had a worth in and on itself. It was more around, how do we solve a real problem? And I think the problem that we were trying to solve was it needs to feel like you have all your music on your hard drive. So if you think about that, that means instantaneous. So we probably have to solve that. It probably means also all the world’s music. Okay, well you have to solve all the rights issues and all of those different things all encompassed in this one thing. So it was very clear to me that if we could deliver something that felt like you had all the world’s music on your hard drive, it would likely be way better than piracy, which was the dominant force of music consumption at the time.

From the outset, Spotify partnered with the record companies, first in Europe and eventually the U.S. What enticed the labels to participate? Actually, they would have been fools not to. Remember, the music industry was in steep decline thanks to changes in technology, economics, and consumer preferences. As Ek noted earlier, the industry’s model had always been inefficient: charging relatively high prices to capture only the top layer of the listening market. Most people got most of their music on the radio, which was free.

Now, before you start feeling too sorry for the record labels, let me say this: in the history of the creative arts, and in the modern history of business generally, it would be hard to find an industry that was sleazier, more exploitative, and more deserving of its comeuppance than the music industry. Through means legal and illegal, from sham contracts and bribes to strong-arming and collusion, the industry had for decades stayed fat by making relatively skinny payments to the people who actually made the music. Their royalty statements were masterpieces of creative accounting. Yes, they did provide venture capital to thousands of musicians with no money, but on the rare occasion when one of those musicians recorded a smash hit, the label made sure to capture most of the profits. What about the industry’s role in discovering new talent? That’s a bit of a myth — like saying that publishers “discover” great authors or NFL coaches “discover” great quarterbacks. They mainly cherry-pick the talented people who’ve already worked their way up, and then squeeze out as much juice as possible for their own use. Many industries exploit their labor force, but few had done so with as much vigor as the music industry.

Now that they were starting to go under, Spotify was offering a lifeboat — and a fairly luxurious one: 70 percent of streaming revenues and an equity stake in the company. The big record labels — Sony, Universal, and Warner — were reportedly each given between 4 and 6 percent of Spotify’s shares, with a consortium of independent labels getting another 1 percent. When Spotify went public, in 2018, these stakes would be worth billions. The labels would also get to keep drawing down 70 percent of Spotify’s revenues, and distributing it to their artists according to their own royalty formulas.

EK: Correct.

DUBNER: So that 70 percent flows then to the rights-holders , which are primarily still the three big music labels.

EK: Yep.

DUBNER: But in terms of the money flowing to the actual creators of the content, that’s complicated and problematic. So can you talk about your views on that and how actually involved you are or can be or want to be?

EK: Yeah, sure. Yeah, it’s — music copyrights generally is probably one of the more complicated areas of both law, just because of how copyright law is treated by society, and then just how it actually works and how it flows down. It’s pretty complicated for a lay person to understand. But the best way to start is just taking two steps back. So the birth of the music industry, and if you think about the role that everyone had, a record company was both — it used to cost a lot of money to make music. So a record company could help you by paying for the studio, the studio engineers, all the people to help you record your music. So that was a pretty big value-add. The next thing that ended up being a big problem was getting promoted onto — in the U.S. was thousands of different radio stations. And internationally it was multiplied by 10 times. It was a pretty big thing. And then distribution ended up being very expensive. So why we have major record companies ended up being — it ended up being easier for them to aggregate around distribution. And that’s how they were formed. That’s how they grew to power.

If you look at it right now, some of those things have obviously shifted. So the recording of music ends up becoming fairly cheap today in most instances because anyone can record if they have a laptop and a mic. Distribution also ends up becoming fairly cheap because you can just put your music on Spotify or Apple Music or any other service virtually free and get distributed. Now the flip side of that is the problem of then getting heard ends up becoming harder than ever before.

DUBNER: Because the supply is so much greater.

EK: Yeah. The supply is infinite, so in order to stand out you have to do quite a lot more. And where we have been as an industry just a few years ago was that you couldn’t rely on one income stream alone. So even if you felt, OK, this is digital distribution or streaming and I kind of get that. The truth of the matter is radio certainly here in the U.S. is still a massive, massive force. So you needed to do a lot of radio both for promotion but just generally distribution and even how you did royalty accounting and all those different things was a massive thing. And then physical still matters greatly. Certainly in the middle of the country. So the value-add by record companies is fairly great and is very important certainly as you’re thinking about how to get this out.

Now the roles going forward is changing quite dramatically. So you’re finding that there are a lot more younger record companies coming out that are formed by maybe being specialists in a certain genre. They’re now finding equal opportunities to get their music heard. So they’re being distributed via indie labels or they may even go and distribute their record companies through one of the major record companies in order to get the support that they’re getting. So the industry is really changing. And we’re obviously a huge part not so much in the change but just being a participant in that dialogue about where it’s going, what is the role of a manager, what’s the role of a label, what’s the role of an agent, what’s the role of a publisher. Because all of those roles are now moving along as the industry is becoming more and more digital.

DUBNER: Right. But you — from what I gather Spotify has little leverage or maybe even interest in once you turn over the royalty share in how they distribute it to their artists, correct? You have nothing to do with that, I assume.

EK: We have nothing to do with that. What we are trying to do, however, because this is such a dramatic shift in an economic model for artists, one of the big things was just how do we educate people about this. Because really even the iTunes model was fairly simple. Because I’m selling my goods and I’m getting X for it. We can argue what X should be, but it’s really that. Here with streaming it’s like I’m getting a revenue share of something and it’s streaming, and it looks like it’s a very small number per stream. But what is a million streams? Is a million streams a lot? Is it a little? Is it — how should I think about it? That ended up being a very big shift.

DUBNER: Are you saying that independent artists are over time via Spotify gaining leverage in the revenue ecosystem or not really? Because the common complaint is this: Spotify is great for customers.

EK: Right.

DUBNER: Spotify has turned out to be a life-saver for labels. Spotify has been great for Spotify, and for you. And it’s been great for some musicians. But then there are others who feel that they’re worse off than they would have been. Now every case is a little bit different. But to those who feel like, “Great, I’m glad all music is available to everybody all the time and I’m glad everybody else is making out well” — what do you say to those artists, or maybe what do you say to someone who’s starting in music now? Can it be a sustainable future for them?

EK: I think we are in the process of creating a more fair and equal music industry than it’s ever been in the past. So I’ll take an example, back in 2000, 2001, at the very, very peak of the music industry, peak of CD, all of those different things. Our estimate is that there were about 20- to maybe 30,000 artists that could live on being recorded music artists. Now, they could be touring, they could be doing other things, and the number could be far greater than that. But there were only 20- or 30,000 that could sustain themselves being that. Why? Well, because, again the distribution costs so much, which ended up being that there’s very few artists that could even get distributed to begin with. And because the costs were fairly high for a person buying the music, you ended up going with what you knew and wouldn’t take that much risk on unknown artists. So in the world with streaming, what’s really interesting is the alternative cost for you to listen to something new is virtually zero. It’s just your time. And because of that, you do listen to a lot more music than you did before and you listen to a bigger diversity of artists than you did before which in turn then grows the music industry.

DUBNER: You were saying there were 20, to 30,000 artists that could be supported. Do you know what that number is now?

EK: I don’t know what the number is now but it’s far greater. Even on Spotify itself, it’s far greater than that.

The economist Alan Krueger taught for years at Princeton and worked in both the Clinton and Obama White Houses. He was also fascinated by the economics of the music industry. Krueger once gave a speech at the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame comparing the music industry to the modern economy at large. In both cases, he argued, most of the earnings were going to fewer and fewer people at the top of the pyramid. It’s what some people call a tournament model, where the winners get most, if not all, of the profits. Krueger died recently at age 58 — by suicide. He left behind a book, to be published soon, called Rockonomics. In it, he writes that there are roughly 200,000 professional musicians in the U.S. today, accounting for 0.13 percent of all U.S. workers. That percent has stayed about the same since 1970.And what’s the median annual income for these musicians? Twenty thousand dollars. The argument Daniel Ek is making sounds good in theory — that digital distribution should make it easier for lesser-known artists to find listeners and get paid. Remember how Ek defines the Spotify mission:

EK: To inspire human creativity by enabling a million artists to be able to live off of their art.

This was one of the great promises of the digital era — that you wouldn’t have to be a superstar to make a living. In 2006, the journalist Chris Anderson published an influential book called The Long Tail: Why the Future of Business Is Selling Less of More. Daniel Ek, in a 2010 interview, called The Long Tail his favorite book. But Alan Krueger’s findings don’t support the long-tail promise. Social media and algorithm-driven recommendations — including Spotify’s own playlists — seem to magnify the bandwagon effect, whereby popular songs become even more popular by virtue of their popularity. In 2018, Spotify’s most-streamed artist was Drake, with 8.2 billion streams. Assuming a typical streaming royalty rate of 0.4 cents per play, that’s nearly $33 million going to Drake’s camp. But the pyramid is sharp, and things fall off really fast once you go beneath the top. Alan Krueger cites an industry survey which found that just 28 percent of artists earned money from streaming in 2018, with the median amount just $100.

So if you think about the streaming-music revolution as a sort of tournament, let’s think about how the various constituencies are making out. Spotify and Daniel Ek are doing very well; so are the company’s original funders, who got a huge return on their investment. The record labels have also been big winners: not only did Spotify reinvigorate their industry but it seems to have substantially improved their overall valuations. The Universal Music Group, for instance, which is currently for sale, has recently been valued at more than $30 billion; in 2013, its valuation was just $8.4 billion. Other winners in the Spotify tournament are customers, who get much more music than they used to get for much less money; and the most popular musicians are also winning big. One constituency that’s not obviously sharing in the winnings: the long-tail artists, of which there are many.

DUBNER: So if you weren’t you, and you were looking at this revolution from the outside, what would you say about the fact that a company like Spotify, which doesn’t produce content — well, it’s starting to, more — but is essentially a friction-remover and a distributor, is worth more than the entire music industry was about the time of its creation?

EK: Well, I mean I don’t want to — I’m actually very little focused on what a company is worth or isn’t, or if that’s fair. There’s something called a Wall Street which is really focused on that instead. I don’t really focus on that. We at Spotify are interested in is how do we get a music industry which actually participates in all of the income streams?

*      *      *

Daniel Ek was a teenage entrepreneur; a millionaire in his early twenties; and now, at 36, a billionaire, having built Spotify into a streaming juggernaut that is now worth more than the entire music industry was worth at the time of Spotify’s founding. Spotify is in the news pretty much constantly these days: launching their service in India, filing an antitrust lawsuit in Europe against Apple, claiming that Apple’s App Store is unfairly favoring its own Apple Music over Spotify. For Ek, the biggest challenge at the moment would seem to be figuring out a way to derive more value — more revenue — from the massive, sprawling ecosystem of recorded music, an ecosystem whose business evolution has been very slow.

EK: So if you look at say the video industry — I say video and I really encompass the entire TV industry, the movie industry, all in video. What I find fascinating is it used to be a conversation where it started off only as paid. Then it added advertising as a component. And then there was a bunch of firms that were only focused on the advertising part of it and then a bunch of firms that were only focused on the subscription income. So most notable, you had CBS on one end, on the advertising end of the spectrum. You had HBO on the other end of this spectrum, asking for subscription income. And then if you look at it today, the truth of the matter is CBS is about 50/50. So it focuses as much on subscription income as it does on advertising. And HBO still is paid-only. But you’re — as an industry, it’s moving that both of these revenue models are equally important.

And that’s my point with the music industry too. My point it’s like, what would happen to the music industry if you all of a sudden combined the the power of advertising as a revenue model, the power of subscription as a revenue model, the power of a la carte on top of that as a revenue model. The three of them on a base of the three billion people around the world that are interested in music easily, just by virtue of looking at how much time people spend listening to music, ought to be at least multiples greater than what the current music industry is and probably larger than the music industry’s ever been.

DUBNER: And you just added 1.3 billion or so in India, yes, potentially?

EK: The Indian music market, what’s fascinating to me, is 90 percent of that market is about Bollywood films. And they are throwing off music and that’s what’s selling in India.

DUBNER: Is it being well-monetized still? I mean people buy it, or I mean —

EK: It’s not well-monetized. But the music industry is essentially a byproduct to the film industry, which for me tells a very interesting story, that there’s so much development left to do. What would happen if the ecosystem there was healthy? Then people wouldn’t think about making music just for movies.

DUBNER: So the India Spotify story could turn out to be exactly the opposite in a way of the American Spotify story, where some people feel here small artists are getting — the long tail is so skinny that you can’t make a living. And theoretically it may disincentive some people from creating. There — maybe there’s incentives to join, even the middle of the long tail there would be a step up, yeah?

EK: Yeah. Well, I mean it’s virtually non-existent. So it’s in a much earlier development stage than the U.S. music economy.

DUBNER: Let me ask you about consumer surplus, which is something economists love to talk about — those rare cases where you get something for much less than you’d be willing to pay. So Spotify is, relatively, super cheap, $10 a month for all the music I want. And that $10 would buy two-thirds of one downloaded album. So if you like music enough to buy two-thirds of one album per month, then to get all the music in the world essentially for that same price is ridiculously cheap. So I’m curious to know two things. What do you know about willingness to pay more? And what do you know, if anything, about the disposable income that’s now been captured by consumers by not having to spend more than $10 to consume the universe of music — where that disposable income goes, I’m curious to have any data on that.

EK: Well, I mean, obviously we agree. We think $10 a month is a very, very cheap and an amazing proposition. But the amount of people who wake up in the morning thinking, Hey, I want to pay $10 a month for music isn’t as great as most people would believe. And we believe that is because not only did piracy exist in a big way just a few years ago, but there are all of these other sources where you can access music very cheaply. Mostly free. So you can go on radio and listen to it, but you can also go on YouTube and you can find the entire archive of music, including all the bootlegs and videos and you can listen to that entirely for free. That’s what we’re competing against. So in order to do that, you can imagine then it’s a free product versus one that’s $10 a month. That’s a pretty big stretch , certainly since all of these other things may have other things like convenience — in the case of radio, works in your car, works in all those different things. And then, in the case of YouTube, it’s just, it’s everything. It’s even greater than what Spotify’s library is. So that’s where we’re, from a competitive set, wrestling with. Now obviously as cars get more and more connected, I do think streaming service is a way better user proposition.

DUBNER: Although I did wonder with autonomous vehicles theoretically coming maybe relatively soon.

EK: Right.

DUBNER: It does strike me that listening to music in a car is a perfect complementary activity. Because you need to drive, you need to keep your eyes on the road, but your ears are free. I do wonder with autonomous vehicles whether it may actually be harmful to streaming music because now my eyes are free to something that might be more interactive.

EK: Right. I mean, you may be right. I don’t know. I think that what’s really interesting, however, is that countercultural force right now from people looking into their phones is all of these well-being things, both Google and Apple released “screen time,” which is supposed to restrict your screen time. And we have the Alexa in your home, which is another device which you’re not supposed to look at, which are all great countercultural reactions to this, watching a screen, which we wouldn’t probably have imagined just a few years ago.

DUBNER: Do you have those kind of aspirations for Spotify to get into, health and wellness and hand-holding of various sorts?

EK: Not directly. To the extent that we do something like that, we’re already very big in terms of meditational music, wellness music, sleep, pink noise, white noise, everything on the spectrum. And now with podcasts obviously on the service too, there’s a lot of people who are focused on those things, which I’m very excited about.

Spotify has been streaming podcasts for years. But it made news recently by spending a few hundred million dollars to acquire two podcast-production companies, Gimlet and Parcast, and a firm called Anchor that’s primarily a podcast technology platform.

EK: Correct. Correct.

DUBNER: So that really changes things in a number of ways. Because you have been successful not being a content creator or producer — too much, at least. So I guess first question is why, and then the second question is, how will it unfurl?

EK: Right. Well, in the future, I don’t think people will make a choice whether they’re subscribing to a music service. We think that they’re making a choice whether they will have an audio service of their choice. It wasn’t this well-thought-out master plan. “Hey, we need an adjacent business, and we don’t know which one it is.” It wasn’t like that at all. What actually happened, because Spotify is a platform was we started seeing in my home country Sweden actually, we started seeing record companies buying podcasts and uploading them to the platform as another revenue opportunity for them to grow. And it resonated really well with listeners. And that was the first step. And then in Germany, record companies there had massive amounts of rights to audio books, which I wasn’t aware of. And they started uploading that to the service and very quickly, we went from no listening to that and now we’re probably if not the biggest, the second-biggest audio book service in Germany. And this is without our involvement. This just happened by proxy of us being a platform. So we started seeing it resonating really well into people’s lives. And they thought of Spotify not just as a music service but as a service where they can find audio. And it played really well into our strategy of ubiquity — i.e., being on all of these different devices in your home, whether it’s the Alexas or TV screens or in your cars or whatever as just another source where you could play your audio.

DUBNER: But why do you want to go to the trouble to pay a couple hundred million to buy a firm that’s creating it when almost everybody making podcasts would probably willingly have their content on Spotify?

EK: Yeah. Well, the reason why is really twofold. So one is that the format of podcasts, we’re still very early on into what it will be. If you really think about it, for most people, there’s all of these basic things for creators that haven’t been solved, like how well am I doing. It’s not that easy to find out. How am I monetizing the show and the value for advertisers, it’s just not that easy to find out. And thirdly, what are people saying about my show, feedback. Those are three very elemental things that if you think about it almost all other formats, if you’re a journalist today and writing in text, there’s ways to solve all three of them. We can already —

DUBNER: I mean what you’re describing does exist to some degree on Apple Podcasts, which I realize Spotify has a complicated relationship with. But that’s also, like Spotify, it’s a closed ecosystem. It’s not part of the web, quite. So if Apple Podcasts data existed in a non-closed environment would that have been enough for Spotify to not need to buy its own firm?

EK: Probably. I mean, in the end I mean it’s all about solving needs that creators or consumers are having. That’s what we’re focused on. And if someone had solved that need then obviously there would be less of a reason for us to do anything about it. And you know the same thing, if there was massive amounts of audio-book services in Germany I’m sure we wouldn’t have been successful.

DUBNER: Can you talk about Spotify customer data. What do you have and what do you do with it?

EK: Well, what we do with it now is very tightly regulated because we’re originally a European company and in Europe, I believe, five or six years ago there was a new initiative called G.D.P.R. that officially became a law some time April, May I believe last year. And obviously we’re complying with that. And what it basically says is that all the data that we have around you as a customer, you need to be able to ask us for it and we need to deliver it back to you. You need to have an opportunity for it getting deleted by us.

DUBNER: What are your abilities to monetize that data, though, to third parties?

EK: Well our ability to monetize it is obviously based on the contract that we have with our users, so obvious things that would be what genre of music are you listening to, what’s your age, what’s your demographics. And those are things that advertisers can target against.

DUBNER: Right. And how well do you monetize that currently?

EK: You mean if we do monetize it?

DUBNER: Yes. If you do monetize it how well do you —

EK: We monetize some of those aspects of course like any normal ad platform. It’s very important though to note that we’re not selling any customer data.

DUBNER: That’s what I’m asking. So there’s ads on the Spotify platform.

EK: Yes.

DUBNER: You’d be fools not to target those to listeners based on their demographics and their listening tendencies.

EK: Of course.

DUBNER: But you do have a lot of data that would be valuable to third parties.

EK: Oh yeah, massive amounts, but not even just for other advertisers. But you can imagine even for the music industry, there’s tons of data about how their songs are performing or other people’s songs might be performing that could inform them about what they’re doing. We’ve taken the stance that we don’t monetize the data itself at all. We don’t sell the data.

DUBNER: Why?

EK: Well, it’s an important one for us that users should be able to rely on us not — my fundamental view is, it’s their data. If we can use the data in order to make the Spotify experience better, then all good and great. And I think many users would say yeah, I agree with that. But because now of G.D.P.R., which I do think is the right step — we can argue about like was it the right implementation of it and all those things. But I do think it’s great for customers that there’s something like G.D.P.R. there. And you can delete the data. You can also say opt out of specific things that we are gathering about you and say, hey I don’t want you to know X or Y.

DUBNER: Yeah. I’ve read that you operate your life in a series of sort of five-year commitments. I don’t know how finite or real that is, but if it is real.

EK: Right.

DUBNER: Where are you now in the five-year cycle, and what happens next?

EK: It’s not always been five years, by the way. So when I started the company, it was a five-year commitment because being 23 at the time, having started lots of different companies before I really wanted to see what would happen if I applied myself to one thing and only one thing and do it for a meaningful amount of time, how far I could get on that problem. And the longest I could imagine spending on anything was five years. So that’s how it ended up being five years. And then when the five years passed, I was 28 so I said, Well when 30 — so it was a two-year increment. And now I said to myself, just before going public last year, is this what I want to do? And what would happen if I made a 10-year commitment? Which felt pretty daunting and what is it that we would have to do, what does the company have to look like for me to be interested to do this for another 10 years? Well what would my role have to look like in order for me to be interested?

DUBNER: Is that a key component, how interested you can remain — I mean it needs to be constantly challenging to you?

EK: Yeah, definitely so. I mean to be honest because otherwise if you don’t have that passion and you don’t feel like you’re growing and challenging yourself, someone else will probably do a much better job.

DUBNER: So where are you right now?

EK: I’m in year two now of a ten-year commitment.

DUBNER: So what did you see in the future of Spotify that you thought was going to be so amazingly, excitingly challenging for 10 years?

EK: Well, there’s really two things. So the first and more important one is really from the inception of Spotify, the assumption was that we would solve the user problem. I.e., — get people to listen in a much better way and then they’ll contribute back to the music industry. The core assumption was that the music industry would take care of all the other things — how people get signed, how they get heard. And I realized that that just didn’t happen. So we’re largely doing business the same way as we were doing 10 years ago. There’s been some evolution of that. But I want to work with the music industry. I was never a disrupter. That’s the big misunderstanding about me. I’ve — I believe the record companies are important and will be important in the future. But we believe we can be the R & D arm for the music industry, that we can develop better tools and technology to allow them to be more efficient and thereby creating more, better solutions for them and for artists.

DUBNER: Can you give an example of how the efficiency happens?

EK: Well, one of the hardest problems right now for an artist is to get heard. One of the biggest platforms to be heard at would be Spotify, right? So today the primary tool that an artist has to get heard on Spotify besides putting the music on there is getting known by one of our editors. So in a weird way, while we want to democratize music, we’ve become gatekeepers as well. So the question is: can we develop tools that enables artists to promote their music more efficiently just by themselves on the platform? And that could be in the form of being able to talk to their existing super fans that are on the platform. It could be in the form of better promotional tools for record companies in how they pitch music and get the music out there.

Spotify having become a gatekeeper — whether inadvertently or not — is an important point. A song that Spotify adds to one of its playlists will get many more streams than one that doesn’t. And streams translate into money for the rights-holders. So having that power is important, especially from a profit-maximizing perspective. If Spotify were primarily concerned with profit-maximizing, it might promote content that is cheaper for Spotify to stream. Maybe it’s content they produce themselves; or just content that comes with a lower payment rate than others. It may not sound like a big difference to pay a rights-holder 0.4 cents per stream versus 0.3 cents, but if you’re talking hundreds of millions or billions of streams, it adds up.

DUBNER: What do you listen to these days?

EK: Music-wise or podcast —

DUBNER: Well, both.

EK: So music-wise I’ve been really interested in African music lately. So particularly West African dancehall music has been something that’s been pretty cool. We launched in South Africa a year ago. So all of those playlists started bubbling up and there’s been a lot of really cool —

DUBNER: It must be so cool to launch in a new place as a means for you guys to discover what’s the music —

EK: Oh yeah, for sure, and there’s a lot of things that you just don’t even know about. So that’s been for me the biggest thing over the last year that’s been really interesting. And then on the podcast side, it’s such a fascinating format to me. There’s obviously people who can listen to Crimetown or whatever it may be, just to get entertained. For me it’s more the educational part of it. So it could be a Freakonomics. There’s one called Invest Like the Best that’s quite interesting and thoughtful about investments and how you do that. I do listen to quite a lot of history podcasts as well. Just to get an hour uninterrupted about a subject. There’s no other format that goes to the same depth as I find that podcasting does.

DUBNER: Are there still holes in the Spotify music library that you really want to fix?

EK: There are. But obviously by now the holes that we have are probably more regional holes than the fact of the big ones. I’m sure that there are — Garth Brooks being probably the best-known example right now. But most of it is really about old music, getting the archives up. I’m very proud that we did that deal with the BBC a few years ago where we’re now bringing the entire archive onto streaming. Same with Deutsche Grammophon, the German equivalents as well.

DUBNER: Would you ever consider in a case like Garth Brooks — I mean, I’m sure you’re going to say no to this, because it would be illegal — but would you ever consider saying, “Look, we’re Spotify, we’re just going to put the music there,” and then he will see how well it does. And then the first check gets written. And then that will bring him to the table in a proper way. Would you or did you ever do that?

EK: No. We’ve never done that. It goes against the ethos of what it is we’re trying to do. I mean, again, when we started, that was the modus operandi. There was all these —

DUBNER: A sort of terrorism in a way, yeah?

EK: Yeah, a lot of these services, where people just uploaded all the music and then they figured out the problem later on. That was never the approach that we took.

DUBNER: And why was that? I mean, do you consider yourself a particularly ethical person? Is that the way Swedish business is done? Because to be fair, Uber pretty much did that. They would go into cities where they knew that local authorities wouldn’t allow them to operate.

EK: Right. Well I don’t like to say that we’re more ethical than other people. It just felt like the right thing to do. And I believed that the problem for the music industry with the past had been just that fact, that it always felt like it was people who wanted to disrupt the existing music industry. I don’t believe that the music industry has to be disrupted. I believe it has to be evolved. So we like to work with them as partners. That’s always been our approach. There isn’t music on Spotify that the copyright owners haven’t authorized us.

DUBNER: I have one last question. If you weren’t doing this now — let’s just pretend Spotify really hadn’t worked, that either the technology or the rights-gathering proved impossible. You’d be doing what now, and where?

EK: If I weren’t doing this, I would probably do something in health care. And it’s a weird revelation, if you asked me ten years ago, I wouldn’t have said that. But right now it’s like I came to that realization because people always said, “Oh, Spotify is so amazing,” and my response was always, “Well, it’s not saving lives, but it’s good.” A few years ago I was thinking to myself, why am I not saving lives, and what would I do if I did that? And I talked about these technology currents, and I think in healthcare a lot of those technology currents are starting to play out. And it’s not just about the sort of digital part of these things. It’s just the advancement in biotech overall, CRISPR, proactive medicine. It’s going to be the next decade or two decades, we’re fundamentally moving from a place where we will look at doctors or the way we treated people like it’s almost witchcraft two decades from now. We’ll just know a lot more. And that’s fascinating, to think about the implications that that will have economically, because I believe in the end it means that we can spend a lot less of our GDP on healthcare and as a consequence hopefully treat a lot more people. So yeah, I’m really interested in that part, and what’s going to happen in that space.

DUBNER: Do you think you will do that, I mean, in eight years? At the end of this ten-year, quote, commitment, you’ll be only 44.

EK: Right.

DUBNER: Do you think you will try something radically different for you like that?

EK: I hope so. My interests — I love music. It’s been a passion really since the beginning of my life. And that will always be a passion and always be something that I’ll do in some shape or form. But we’re here a very, very short period of time on Earth. And I feel a tremendous amount of responsibility having — you know, it’s insane that I’m 30-plus years old and having had as much fortune as I’ve had, so I feel like I need to do a lot more than what I’m doing to leave the world a better place than what I entered it.

If you want to learn more about Spotify — including how a team of Swedish social scientists tried to reverse-engineer it to see how the platform really works — check out a new book called Spotify Teardown: Inside the Black Box of Streaming Music.

*      *      *

Freakonomics Radio is produced by Stitcher and Dubner Productions. This episode was produced by Matt Frassica. Our staff also includes Alison Craiglow, Greg Rippin, Harry Huggins, Zack Lapinski, Matt Hickey, and Corinne Wallace. Our theme song is “Mr. Fortune,” by the Hitchhikers; all the other music was composed by Luis Guerra. You can subscribe to Freakonomics Radio on Apple Podcasts, Stitcher, or wherever you get your podcasts.

Here’s where you can learn more about the people and ideas in this episode:

SOURCES

Daniel Ek, co-founder and C.E.O. of Spotify.

RESOURCES

“The Effect of File Sharing on Record Sales: An Empirical Analysis,” by Felix Oberholzer‐Gee and Koleman Strumpf (Journal of Political Economy, 2007).

The post How Spotify Saved the Music Industry (But Not Necessarily Musicians) appeared first on Freakonomics.

from Dental Care Tips http://freakonomics.com/podcast/spotify/

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Within the shadow of our opioid disaster, a school soccer participant finds a household and a future

MIDDLETOWN, N.J. — There’s completely no purpose Thomas Lopez must be telling anybody his life story.

To begin with, it is none your corporation. Would you need folks realizing your mom was a heroin addict who overdosed in entrance of you — twice?

Who would admit to an alienation so deep that his first Mom’s Day with the girl who introduced him into the world got here eight months in the past.

For that matter, why ought to anybody care a couple of 6-foot-5, 310-pound offensive sort out buried inside a storefront junior school in downtown Brooklyn, New York?

You do not know Thomas Lopez, however his story is America’s in 2018. It’s flawed and horrible and inspirational and poignant. It shines a light-weight on the human situation, the nation’s opioid epidemic, soccer tradition and the frequent decency instilled in all of us. 

However why is Thomas Lopez — who inked with Ball State throughout the Early Signing Interval — telling anybody any of this? It seems we have to know.

Addicts disguise in plain sight. Fractured households limp by day by day.

One of the best underdog tales aren’t restricted to slickly-produced weepers on ESPN’s “Faculty GameDay.”

“I feel it is lastly time for me to elucidate every little thing,” Lopez mentioned, “present folks every little thing.”

Thomas Lopez at an ASA Faculty observe. Thomas Lopez

Blink and you’ll miss ASA Faculty. The junior school at 81 Willoughby Road in downtown Brooklyn may go for an workplace constructing, a temp company or a authorities outpost.

The burden room is three blocks away in a dorm basement. Gamers bus 40 minutes to practices at a neighborhood highschool. The Avengers bussed 35 hours to play junior school energy Trinity Valley in Texas. The Brooklyn “campus” homes the one junior school soccer program in New York Metropolis. Glamour shouldn’t be the highest promoting level.

“I used to be born in Brooklyn, however I used to be like, ‘Oh my God. This isn’t like the universities I do know,”http://ift.tt/1OPItWM; mentioned Lopez’ maternal grandmother Linda Heintz, who helped increase him. “He would come residence typically and say, ‘I can not take it anymore.”http://ift.tt/1OPItWM;

There are 5 for-profit ASA campuses scattered by the New York Metropolis space and in South Florida. Soccer was added to the ASA system solely 9 years in the past.

“With out soccer, none of this implies shit,” mentioned Vinnie Rizzo, the Avengers’ offensive line coach.

It is that sort of mentality that drew Lopez from close by Middletown, New Jersey. It was shut (46 miles), and it was an inexpensive with an athletic scholarship.

“Simply the actual fact I have never paid a single penny for faculty is fairly wonderful,” Lopez mentioned.

Not that he had a lot of a alternative. His mom, Tracy, was out and in of his life with a drug drawback. His mother and father divorced quickly after he was born.

Out of Middletown South Excessive College, Lopez was pursued by Rutgers as a walk-on candidate. FAU might or might not have been , however Lopez was so uninformed about what it took academically to play school soccer that he did not know till weeks earlier than enrollment that he was a non-qualifier. There was no manner he may get a scholarship.

Somebody needed to clarify the idea to him.

“If it wasn’t for me waking up and having my again in opposition to the wall, this all would not come to fruition in any respect,” Lopez mentioned this summer season going into his second ASA season.

In the midst of a dreary cinderblock dorm room in the summertime of 2016, a line was drawn. Soccer was a way to finish.

Lopez desires to be an accountant, attend a famous enterprise faculty.  He is good sufficient and sufficiently big, simply tremendously deprived — backed into society’s nook. That is principally what JUCO soccer is: a final resort. The gamers share a standard bond. As soccer prospects, they’re virtually all poor both bodily, academically or legally. Generally all three.

It is a tradition so amazingly determined Netflix created the hit actuality documentary “Final Probability U.” ASA’s program was a finalist to be featured for the 2017 season.

“There was actually no construction on this program,” mentioned Avengers coach Joe Osovet, who took over in 2016. “The prisoners ran the asylum. Being in a JUCO, these youngsters want construction. They need construction. A number of them have by no means had construction of their life. That is why they’re right here.”

That is actually why Thomas Lopez was right here. At ASA, he placed on 40 kilos and located a objective.

“He has every little thing you need in an offensive lineman,” Rizzo mentioned. “He is a troublesome, nasty child. He is a prick. He jogs my memory of myself once I performed. I would just bury guys.”

As soon as dedicated to Scott Frost and UCF, Lopez was disillusioned to search out one other vagary of junior school: timing. The second semester began at UCF on Jan. eight. Lopez will not get his associates diploma from ASA till late January.

Akron coach Terry Bowden turned up the recruiting warmth. As a part of the recruiting course of, Lopez’s step grandmother was allowed to name Bobby Bowden, Terry’s hall-of-fame dad.

“I simply talked to a residing legend,” mentioned Julie Chidichimo, a Florida State alum.  

If it takes a village, then this village was blessed with the gene that makes people dive into flood waters to rescue drowning victims. Coaches, household, associates, a girlfriend, all of them bought Thomas Lopez to this second.

However principally it was Thomas getting Thomas to this second. A 3-star JUCO recruit who performed for a state champion at Middletown South discovered his subsequent soccer residence.

Quickly after, he discovered a life steadiness.

Tracy Lopez (proper) watches on as her son indicators with Ball State. Thomas Lopez

“I used to be fortunate sufficient to be born,” Thomas Lopez mentioned. “My mother was doing [heroin] earlier than [my birth].”

Whereas there was no heart to his day-to-day existence, his mom, Tracy, was actually the each day heart of his points.

“She’s all the time had psychological points since she was just a little baby,” Heintz mentioned. “They informed me a very long time in the past if she did not [abuse drugs] that she would have most likely killed herself.”

Tracy Lopez, 38, reluctantly agreed to an interview with CBS Sports activities. She emerged from a again room at Heintz’s residence earlier this season whereas nonetheless in therapy for her habit.

“I am a nervous wreck. I have been freaking out all week,” she mentioned.

She then went into element about that first Mom’s Day along with her solely baby, now 20. It got here in Might. Tracy was nicely sufficient to attend a household get collectively.

The son and mom exchanged playing cards.

“Mine was easy: Comfortable Mom’s Day,” Thomas mentioned.

“It was a giant deal for me as a result of that is my first yr,” Tracy mentioned, “… as a result of I often do take a setback.”

Mom and son have reconciled. The factor is, although, a motherless Mom’s Day is greater than annually. It is kindergarten, bake gross sales, Cub Scouts, Halloween, Christmas — all of it typically and not using a mother.

“Whenever you’re little, you are type of confused,” Lopez mentioned. “You are numb to all of it. It hits you in center faculty and highschool. You begin experiencing issues. I really feel like I matured so much sooner than different folks. I needed to shield myself.”

Lopez principally grew up with out his start mom and father however with a household. One which collectively hugged him in its arms, not wanting him to slide away.

“He was actually a feral baby,” mentioned Peter Kafaf, a private coach who labored creating Lopez’s soccer abilities. “He had individuals who beloved him, however Thomas’ character got here from Thomas.

“You haven’t any help at residence. You get no steerage. You attempt to preserve your mom from dying as a result of she’s overdosing. You come residence to search out her on the ground and foam spewing out of her mouth.”

The addicted amongst us can typically perform at a excessive degree. However the addicted may drag down a complete household.

They do not train you wherever how you can dig right down to the final penny of your $600-a-month baby help fee to deal with your mother’s behavior. Lopez did that on no less than one event.

“I have never eaten in two days,” Lopez as soon as informed Kafaf. “I had to make use of my meals cash to purchase my mom methadone.”

There is no such thing as a primer to rebound from hopelessness.

“I used to be pissed off at every little thing,” Lopez mentioned. “I used to be pissed off I did not have the identical residence life. The place my grandmother lives is a very nice space. Mine was a very good faculty. All the youngsters have very nice lives, and I used to be like, ‘Why do I not have this?”http://ift.tt/1OPItWM;

“I actually did not care in highschool,” Lopez added. “It actually hit me once I got here right here, once I realized I do not need to turn into what my mother and father had been.”

Tracy Lopez (center) and Thomas Lopez (proper) on the residence of Linda Heintz (left). Dennis Dodd

This American household drama was performed out within the relative opulence of the New Jersey suburbs. Middletown is an upscale group inside driving distance of New York. Heintz’s residence must be within the Nationwide Register of Historic Locations.

It was in-built 1720. A film was filmed there. In that pastoral setting, Heintz remembers the dialogue along with her two different youngsters sitting on the steps of the entrance porch deciding who needed to go inside to are inclined to Tracy after one other bender.

You go in.

No, you go in.

Is she nonetheless respiratory?

Are you able to see her chest transfer?

“We have been by so much on this home,” Heintz mentioned.

Her husband as soon as ran a psychiatric hospital. A easy Achilles surgical procedure was tragedy. Problems triggered an absence of oxygen throughout the process that led to mind injury.

“Thomas used to say, ‘This daddy’s damaged. We want a brand new one,”http://ift.tt/1OPItWM; Heintz recalled.

Thomas Heintz — really Thomas’ grandfather — was in a coma for a month. He lasted seven extra years. Thomas was named after him.

“I used to be then taking good care of somebody who had a mind damage. You simply do it,” Linda Heintz mentioned. “That is when Tracy had her issues.”

The opioid drawback within the U.S. is actual. The category of doubtless addictive painkillers is being prescribed at report charges although the quantity of ache reported by People hasn’t elevated, in keeping with the Facilities for Illness Management and Prevention.

Abuse of heroin, oxycodone and the like cuts throughout all lessons, all incomes. In October, President Donald Trump declared an opioid epidemic a nationwide well being emergency.

On common, 91 People die every day on account of an opioid overdose. Lopez says his greatest good friend bought hooked on heroin in eighth grade.

“Medicine are an enormous drawback in my space of New Jersey,” Lopez mentioned. “I by no means need to undergo any of that once more. I noticed issues I can not actually take again. It is nonetheless there behind my thoughts.”

It’s at this level a promising younger grownup along with his entire life forward has to think about what’s going to all the time be part of him.

“I noticed every little thing,” Lopez mentioned. “I noticed my mom overdose twice. The day after my junior promenade, I noticed her on the ground. I came visiting, hungover. I noticed her on the ground. She was not responding. I used to be making an attempt every little thing to wake her up. I referred to as the police. They ended up bringing her again. The second time, police needed to do an inside investigation. She did not get arrested. She had some on her.”

In some way, Tracy remains to be round and in a position to recall — in vivid element — her son’s youth. Too huge for Pop Warner soccer, Thomas gravitated to different sports activities. He beloved baseball, as soon as scooping up a handful of infield grime at Yankee Stadium, pocketing it for a memento. A Chicago Bears’ fan, Lopez as soon as wrote Brian Urlacher submitting a listing of gamers that will assist the Bears win the Tremendous Bowl.

“I actually really feel like Thomas discovered father figures by sports activities, by the years, all these males,” Tracy mentioned. “I knew he needed to get his aggression out someplace.”

Uncle Mark in Staten Island by no means missed Thomas’ highschool video games. His step grandfather turned him on to the Bears.

“A number of instances, I really feel like I used to be right here however I wasn’t current,” Tracy mentioned. “In some way, by all of it, he discovered some nice parenting and sports activities. I consider it saved him.”

Kafaf got here into Lopez’s life by likelihood. The chief vp of the swimwear division of Nautica works with native New Jersey gamers professional bono on their method. Regardless of a robust job, a 1 ½-hour commute into the town and a household of his personal in Truthful Haven, Kafaf helps out of the goodness of his coronary heart.

He tutored five-star stud Rashan Gary at Paramus (N.J.) Catholic; Gary is now at Michigan. Offensive lineman Will Fries was one among 17 freshman to play at Penn State this season. St. Louis Rams linebacker Garrett Sickels is from close by Purple Financial institution.

Kafaf contends Penn State coach James Franklin would rent him proper now if there was a gap. However this a vocation that has lasted 9 years. All Kafaf costs is a hat from the school his pupils select.

“In case you’re dedicated, I am going to work with you,” Kafaf informed Lopez. “However this is the knock on you: I hear you are weak. I hear you are smooth. I hear you do not need it. I hear you do not have coronary heart. If that is what you need, go play the flute.”

Certainly, Lopez injured his shoulder early on. What Kafaf says was Crohn’s Illness triggered Lopez to drop extra pounds.

When the kid help ran out that month, Lopez lastly broke down and informed Kafaf his state of affairs. The pair shortly bought within the automotive and went to the native grocery store.

“Purchase no matter you need,” Kafaf informed him. “If that ever occurs to you once more, you name me. Do not go hungry.”

Heintz remembers being stunned by the grocery supply. “Thomas is available in with all these packages — groceries, steak, meals. I mentioned, ‘What are you telling this man that he introduced you all this meals?’ I used to be mortified.”

Thomas’ abdomen was happy, for the second. These motherless Mom’s Days by no means appear to finish. Kafaf recalled one among Lopez’s personal highschool teammates teasing about his mom being an addict.

“I pulled the child apart,” Kafaf mentioned. “http://ift.tt/2DzDu9V do not know who you suppose you might be. In my eyes, you are a chunk of shit. I do not ever need to hear it once more.”http://ift.tt/1OPItWM;

Kafaf is not significantly non secular. However like everybody round Lopez, he does appear to have that gene concerning drowning victims.

“I make good coin at my job,” he mentioned. “For instance I begin charging these youngsters $150 an hour for a session. So now I get some wealthy child with some wealthy mother and father who’re nutty …

“Then I do not get a Thomas Lopez. I do not get, on my final dying day, closing my eyes saying I made a distinction on this planet.”

That is why Thomas Lopez’s story is everybody’s enterprise. We have to know one of many fundamentals of frequent human decency.

“He loves his mom dearly,” Kafaf mentioned.

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