#and what if i said these were from halloween content that i never posted.. oops

[bottlesandcats]

Pardon My 15x20 Rant

I woke up this morning with Thoughts, so time for a ranty post. Be prepared this is going to read more like word vomit than anything, but I just wanted to get my thoughts down on paper. No one may even read this bc I don’t have a lot of followers but it feels good to just get this off my chest and out into the Universe. Warning, there is a gratuitous use of caps.

So....I see so many fans on Twitter saying how beautiful and perfect that ending was and, I have to say, I’m truly bewildered by that.

 Even if you aren’t a Destiel fan, I’m not sure how you could’ve found that ending to be remotely satisfying. See list of non Destiel-related reasons below (bc I’m trying to see this from the perspective of someone who isn’t in that part of the fandom):

1. The MOW was crap; wtf was with the Halloween masks? When have we ever seen that with vamps? The dumbest shit I’ve seen. 

They trotted out some extra from season 1 like it’s supposed to be some fun little Easter egg. Why are we supposed to give a shit about her? I didn’t even remember her with the flashback. Who are you, again? NM, I DON’T CARE. It also honestly made no sense to feature a MOW episode after everything that just happened, it wasn’t necessary. It was clearly just a means to an end to get Dean killed.

2. They shoved some random family, for Sam, into the last ten minutes of the episode. Sam’s kid is named Dean? OF COURSE HE IS. And that whole father-son montage was so clunky and awkward, I would’ve been more convinced if you told me Sam actually just wandered into some anonymous woman’s backyard and started playing ball with her kid. 

We’ve seen how emotionally invested Sam gets in his relationships and we’ve had such beautiful moments: Sam/Jess, Sam/Madison, (even Sam/Ruby), and of course Sam/Eileen. And now we are supposed to care about Anonymous Brunette Woman #4? GTFO. I’ve seen some people saying they couldn’t get Shoshanna bc of COVID, but give us something to indicate it was Eileen. Have Sam sign something to her from across the yard; IT’S THAT SIMPLE. But no, not one single mention of her in either 19 or 20, after Sam nearly broke when he lost her in 18.

 I couldn’t even feel happy for him bc I had 0 emotional investment in this life of his. And it was all just rushed through so we could get to the “good part” where Sam dies and is reunited with Dean in Heaven. 

Also small note, what happened to Dean’s dog???

3. The wardrobe department really needs to reconsider some of their life choices. I’ve seen tufts of cat hair in the corners of my house that would’ve made a better wig than that rag they threw on Jared’s head. It was so ridiculous, I started thinking this was going to wind up being some big gag like The Mystery Spot” and The Trickster was going to pop out. 

And why did Jim Beaver’s beard look like they spray-painted cotton balls brown and glued them to his face? It was honestly distracting. 

4. After 15 years, and FINALLY achieving freedom and happiness, Dean gets taken down by a rebar and a Vamp-mime. The only way I could justify this to myself was that, now that they are no longer God’s puppets he’s not bending the rules for them and they don’t have that death-defying luck on their side now. But even that is weak. After all his fighting, sacrificing, and wanting nothing more than to chill on a beach with Sam and Cas, this is what he gets. This was a show about defying destiny, THAT WAS THE WHOLE PLOT OF S15.

 Dean always said he figured it was his destiny to die bloody, and that’s exactly why he shouldn’t have gone out this way. STORY ARC, WHAT’S THAT? Cas told Dean, when he first met him, that good things do happen. So basically, the only way Dean could get his happiness was to die? What a heart-warming message. 

5. Dean’s lack of emotion over the loss of Cas was the most OOC I think I’ve ever seen from him. Dean DOES NOT accept the deaths of those he loves in any way. He does not cope, he does not move on, he does not happily eat a bunch of pie. We’ve seen how Dean has handled Cas’s death in the past. It’s...not good, and it only became more unhealthy as the show progressed, with the last time (before 18) having Dean literally killing himself. Even in 15x19, we still got that desperate heartache from him with Dean demanding that Chuck bring Cas back. We also saw him sleeping amongst a pile of empty liquor bottles, which is very on-character for him. But in 15x20, he’s the one telling Sam they need to move on and keep living (oops) over a giant tray of pie slices at a county fair. Even Sam feels off. One minute he’s all “I’m sad about Cas and Jack” and the next he’s putting a pie in Dean’s face and is like “I feel better now!” You’ve got a direct in with God!Jack now, and we know from 15x19 that God can pull beings out of The Empty bc he did it with Lucifer! THAT WAS YOUR IN, YOU IDIOTS. You ask Chuck to bring back Cas, but not the one to whom he was a father to????????? 

6. Even if you weren’t a Destiel shipper, you should still be disappointed in the noticeable absence of Castiel, especially since he was left with such a cliffhanger of character development and was mentioned multiple times in episodes 19 and 20. He was a pivotal part of the show for 11 years. Even if you take out the Destiel stuff, the boys have called him their brother numerous times. Dean’s call him his best friend. Wouldn’t his ideal Heaven have his best friend in it?

7. I’m not going to rail on the scene between the brothers while Dean is dying. I didn’t really get Wincest vibes from it, though I never put much stock into that side of the fandom anyway. My one issue is this was the “love confession” moment they gave us. Dean dying in a barn and telling Sam he loves his baby brother. *SNORE*

8. The big reunion moment we were hoping for? They wasted it on Dean’s car. A FUCKING CAR. Yes, I get the Impala is important to the story, but come the fuck on. NO CHICK FLICK MOMENTS. MUCH BRO. 

All-in-all the whole ending felt like 1 step forward, and 15 years back. After all the character development and story arcs, it’s like they just threw it all out the window. Nothing changed. Everyone was back to where they started: Cas working for God, Dean being a good soldier and dying bloody doing the only thing he knows how to do, Sam being left to pick up the pieces with some distorted version of an apple pie life where he was basically just living to die so he could be with Dean again. I felt like the lesson was that the only way you get what you want is to die. It was gross. It was a disservice to the actors, the characters, and the fans. I can’t begin to even see this as fan-service bc I’d love to know who the TPTB thought they were serving with this garbage. And honestly, I don’t think they knew either. I feel like they were so worried about pissing off all the different subsets of the fandom that they went as safe as they could. *slow claps* Way to go, guys, really groundbreaking stuff.

At the end of the day though, it’s my fault for being disappointed. I shouldn’t have expected so much of a show that had mostly cis white men working behind the scenes. A show that’s killed almost every female character who stepped up to the plate (also, POC anyone? Nahhh). A show that took their one real LGBTQ character (also female), killed her and left her body in a bathtub (FRIDGING IS FUN) for absolutely no good reason. A show that, at the end of the day, is just a show about a couple bros who kill monsters, on the CW, and the CW is hardly the go-to place for real boundary-pushing content. A show that has managed to drop the ball at almost every opportunity though we, as a fandom, have continued to lower the bar for them.

Fool me once, shame on you. Fool me 100 times? 

So with all that being said...

Peace out bitches.

[gumnut-logic]

Johnny Snapshots

@onereyofstarlight​  Okay, let’s face it, I live in the land of the Virg and John is one of the hardest for me to tackle (the other being Alan who I do a disservice to on a regular basis). So I don’t read much John focussed fic. Not that I don’t love the boi, it’s just...oooh, look a bright shiny Virg! :D

So in order to get Johnny fluff for you, I only really have my pile of Virg-focussed fic to play with, though I can recommend reading stuff from @the-lady-razorsharp​ and @willow-salix​ cos they claim Johnny as their boi and write lots of stuff focussed on their space noodle :D

While looking for my previous post in my archives, I came across a snippet of John from one of my fics and got the idea of little Johnny Snapshots. So, here from amongst all my Virg fic, have a little Johnny Nutty-style.

Note: Snapshots from all sorts of fic, looking for fluff, spoilers for everything, several AUs, several ships, pretty much potluck and lots of description of the Johnny :D And while I’ve included links to the fics, the fics themselves are likely Virgil focussed and there may not be much more of John in them than is already here. You’ve probably read some of these before, too.

I hope you enjoy anyway :D

-o-o-o-

A ghost drifted on the breeze.

White as an angel, pale as the moonlight sculpting his form, his next youngest brother rode the air currents above the island.

The only word to describe John was elegant. Airborne porcelain, he circled. Midnight starlight cascaded through Virgil’s mind. Expressions of sorrow draped in calm, warmed by an amber light, the steady core of his star-loving brother.

Virgil watched mesmerised as his turns became tighter and tighter, closer to the ground. A great arch of white feathers and he landed gently, barely disturbing the sand beneath his bare feet.

He was gleaming in the moonlight from toe to hooded gaze. Ever so pale skin, free to be bare to the elements with the absence of the sun, his only clothing was a cut off pair of jeans so faded they were more white than blue.

Only his hair had colour, flame caught in just the right flash of light.

Decision

-o-o-o-

When he woke, the sun was making for the horizon, the whole island cast in gold.

“Hey, Virgil.”

The soft melodious voice of his space borne brother was lacking its usual transmission static and it was a pleasant surprise to roll over and find John sitting on a lounger beside him. “Hey.”

“Hey, yourself. How are you feeling?”

First question of any brother to any injured brother, of course. “Good, actually.” And he was. Relaxed, pain at a minimum, a gorgeous sunset in preparation, and... “Great to see you down here.” Virgil didn’t admit it often, but he did miss his middle brother. Didn’t really like him so far out of reach. But John loved it, so it was what it was. Didn’t mean Virgil couldn’t be happy to see him when he could. “What brings you to this little planet?”

The sun was sculpting John’s pale features and white shirt in almost molten gold, merging his skin with his copper hair. The odd thought of some kind of Greek god fluttered through the back of Virgil’s mind. He shook himself mentally. What the hell?

V.T. Green

-o-o-o-

John appreciates a fine meal. Of the five brothers, he is the one who will know about the wine. He’ll know which region it came from, what it should be eaten with and which year grew the plant it was made from. This, of course, means he is the most likely culprit to steal Scott’s boutique beers out of the fridge…to the point that one of the first signs of the middle brother being back on Earth is the sudden missing bottles from said refrigerator.

Virgil thinks it is hilarious.

Scott’s worried his brother is a secret alcoholic and keeps monitoring his intake.

Alan keeps messing with Scott’s head by pinching extra bottles to ‘up John’s intake’.

Gordon messes with everyone by refilling the bottles with apple juice.

But yes, John is the one to appreciate a good meal, most likely because he has to eat all that space crap eighty percent of the time.

Food, Tracy style

-o-o-o-

A sigh. “Um....never have I ever...er...been arrested?” Surely, they hadn’t done that?

“Are you kidding me?” Gordon, glugged down some more drink. “That’s an easy one. Paris. The Louvre.”

What?

Scott raised his hand holding his glass. “Gordon.” As if that explained everything. He swallowed heavily.

Alan snorted, rolled and fell face first onto the carpet.

Gordon laughed. “Hey, bro. Time to take another drink. Remember the teddy bear at the fair?”

“Crap.” Alan grabbed his glass and toasted the air. “Gordon.” Apparently, it did explain everything.

“Gordon.” Kayo said it like a zombie and swallowed some more alcohol. Ridley just stared at her, but was distracted as apparently not-so-asleep John attempted to locate his glass by pawing blindly at the carpet with one hand. His mumbled “Gordon.” Was almost muffled as Ridley tried to grab his arm.

“Lawn flamingo.” Virgil attempted to bring the drink to his mouth, but missed and threw it over his shoulder instead. “Oops.”

Em blinked.

“Okay, that’s it. I’m calling this game. Off to bed with the lot of you. I have the strongest feeling that I should have taken Grandma’s advice and gone to bed early myself.”

There were many a muttered groan, mostly of ‘Awww’ and her name, but the brothers mostly stumbled to their feet. Kayo had to drag Virgil off of Em. The man was heavy.

Ridley smiled at her as she manhandled her space noodle off into their rooms. John was muttering something about ‘Gordon’s fault...didn’t want to do that in a book store.’ Penny helped Alan to his rooms, all the time shooting glares at Gordon.

“What?” The aquanaut looked non-plussed. “What did I do?”

“Gordon, go look after your brother.” Scott’s voice was firm. He still hadn’t relaxed.

Em sighed, grabbed his arm and, activating her hoverjets, pulled him up. “C’mon, Commander, time for bed.”

“Em.” And suddenly she was in his arms.

“Flyboy, your blood alcohol content can be detected from space.”

“Space!” John’s voice echoed down the hallway.

“Not today, spaceman, you’d miss TB5 and end up on Mars.” Ridley was obviously being very patient.

“Not Mars. Wrong trejacktory.” A closing door shut off the rest of the mumbled maths that followed.

Never Have I Ever

-o-o-o-

John sighed, walked over to the bed and sat on the edge in echo of something he had done so many times as a boy. He used to come in here and talk Virgil’s ear off about space and stars and his latest science projects. Virgil, in turn, would nod, say the right things at the right time and generally be the good older brother. John suspected that Virgil hadn’t understood half of what he was saying, but the older boy had never said anything. Not that Virgil wasn’t smart, just his interests lay in different areas. 

They were both quiet by nature and Virgil’s patience drew John to him. Mostly because he would listen. One of the hardest things about being a far above average student with very specific interests was finding someone to talk to about them. John wasn’t a big talker outside the family, but that was because society in general was lost two words into any sentence he wanted to construct. John had no use for general gossip when he had spent the day discovering a new extra-solar object. Who cared who won the football when Neptune was aligning with Earth in a way that wouldn’t happen for another one hundred and sixty five years?

It was Virgil who stopped and listened as a young John Tracy babbled about his latest discoveries.

He was his big brother.

The House

-o-o-o-

Unfortunately, distracted, he didn’t see brother number three and collided with him, nearly sending both of them to the floor.

“Oh, god, sorry…J-“ His hands met soft silk and he looked up, this time truly focussing on his tall brother.

Oh my god.

He must truly have some kind of sibling radar because there was no way in hell he could have recognised his brother otherwise.

“John?”

“Hey, Virgil.”

And yes, that was a smirk on that face.

He eyed the man from bottom to top. High heeled boots in shiny black leather. Black tights! High cut, buttoned up, deep blue coat sequined in an elaborate filigree with almost ankle length tails. The ends of his sleeves flared out like flowers over leather gloves. And a white silk cravat wrapped his throat with about ten layers of frills.

But all that didn’t live up to the hair. Oh, god, the hair. Gone was the familiar red, replaced with a fountain of silver white, springing in strands from the top of his head like a spray of leafless weeping willow, long enough to reach his chest.

Virgil stared. “Are you wearing makeup?”

The smirk widened and, yes, there was some kind of lip gloss to go with the elaborate eyeshadow arching into his brows.

Blink. “Wh-who are you?”

“Why, my dear child,” and John tapped him on the head with his ornamental riding crop. “I’m the Goblin King.”

Another blink. “Who?” He couldn’t recall ever seeing a goblin who looked quite like that.

And the more familiar John rolled his eyes. “A friend of mine advised me that this would be easier if I made myself completely unrecognisable. She is a fan of old movies, so I picked one.”

Virgil narrowed his eyes. “She?”

“She.”

“Okay.” He eyed his brother again. “I’ll take your word for it.”

A Warm Rain Halloween (wip)

-o-o-o-

It had been three days. His brother was now hooked up to several IVs and other invasive support mechanisms, his unconscious body needing assistance to survive. The usually agile, calm and kind man now lay pale, his hair unkempt and limp, eyes bruised smudges on his lifeless face, hands wrapped in copious bandages.

Virgil reached over and ran his fingers through that blond and red hair, attempting to straighten it out, forcing the flick to behave itself.

“C’mon, John, speak to me.” Virgil’s voice was little above a whisper. “I can’t do this without you.” And the statement was suddenly true. Spoken without thought, Virgil realised that through everything that had happened to him in the last few months, John had been there, even when Virgil was too terrified to see him, John had stood strong while his brother dragged him through the mud. He had done everything in his power, everything, to support Virgil. “God, don’t let a faulty circuit be your epitaph, you are worth so much more than that. So much more.”

He needed his brother’s dry wit. He needed his calm voice. He needed him.

Virgil let his head drop to the bed.

Please.

Father

-o-o-o-

John hated crowds, especially those involving the press. Scott went out of his way to make sure he wasn’t exposed to them, but his brother wasn’t available right now.

Head down, no eye contact. “No comment.”

“No comment.”

They crowded in on him and he grit his teeth.

A sharp crack and a yelp. A squawk and the clattering of plastic on concrete. A scream and a flash of light. John looked up to find holocams falling like rain. One close to him simply stopped and dropped. Another sparked, spun and dove at the nearest reporter. She screamed and ran.

The holocam chased her.

Oh.

The crowd began to disperse in erratic squeals and yelps of fear. John took advantage and dashed through to the doors of the hospital. Behind him, the elevator fired its thrusters, adding to the confusion, and launched towards orbit.

“Eos, you are dangerous.”

“Yes, John, and don’t you forget it.” The amusement in her voice had him smiling.

“Thank you.”

“You are welcome.”

Dirt

-o-o-o-

The only one standing entirely upright was her middle grandson. He brought up the rear, his tall, lithe form fluid as he walked. As always, his red hair was startling against his golden baldric. His eyes tracked around the room, his expression cool and controlled, but as his grandmother, she could see the tells of worry and exhaustion.

The great silver form of Eos sat on his arm preening her feathers. Every so often, the hawk would pause and survey the room, just like her bearer, her startling red eyes catching everything. Sal would never understand that relationship, but it had saved her family more than once and she was grateful, if still wary.

The Prince Who Would Not be King

-o-o-o-

If the quiet lifestyle is more your thing, you may wish to upgrade to John Tracy. ‘Up’ is the keyword here as he resides twenty-two thousand miles up, in orbit, in fact. Yes, John is the original space Tracy. Fully adapted to the cold and dark beyond our atmosphere, he does indeed adore the quiet life.

However, before we tempt you any further, it should be noted that John is the only Tracy brother who is a parent. A single parent at that. Inadvertent though her existence is, Eos is recognised as John’s daughter and she presents a number of unique challenges, the least of which is what she will do to your bank accounts if you upset her. Yes, if you are looking for bankruptcy, offending Eos is a fantastic way to achieve your goal.

In summary, don’t piss off the kid.

Having said that, should she approve of your existence, Eos is quite capable of enhancing that existence should she so choose. In any case, John’s daughter is a great conversationalist, even if she has locked you in the bathroom.

John himself sports arguably the most stunning eyes of all the five brothers. Alan, please be quite and Scott, sit down.

A unique pair of turquoise irises that contrast exquisitely with his copper hair makes for a stunning date to have on your arm. The only downside is that arm may need to be handcuffed to yours if you intend on going anywhere involving more than six people at a time.

Our space Tracy is not a social being. Despite communication as a profession, John Tracy has been heard to wish to only speak to others from space. This may include you. Please keep your phone charged at all times.

It should also be noted that if your phone battery is dead and John wishes to contact you, he may hack an appliance as mundane as your toaster. Communicating via the temperature controls in the shower has been reported. Virgil was not impressed.

John is one of the taller Tracys. Unlike Scott, however, heels may not be needed as ninety-five percent of the time John is in space, so if you are planning to get to know him, you’re going to be in space too. Just float up to look him in those gorgeous eyes.

A fan of spaceball and Star Trek, John is your traditional loveable geek. Be aware that his neighbour knows this and you may want to lock all the airlocks in case she comes knocking for a cup of sugar.

John is definitely a good investment and comes with a space station to boot. You will be able to spend many hours stargazing both at the universe and those irises.

Plus One Tracy

-o-o-o-

 Oh, I do have a couple of John focussed fics. The fluffiest is Bagel.

[mysticvampyre]

Fallen Angel

Have this little gem on my FanFiction.net but decided to post it here in the spirit of Halloween so... here ya go! Enjoy!

FALLEN ANGEL PART 1

"Out of the way! Move it!" A girl shouted as she pushed past a crowd full of tourists that filled the boardwalk.

"Stop her, someone stop that girl. She stole my purse!" An overweight woman shouted as she huffed along trying to catch up to the girl. The woman bent at the waist holding her knee as she tried to catch her breath. She knew she couldn't catch her and her pleas of help fell on deaf ears seeing as no one else made a move to go after the girl in question.

You see that kid there running like the Flash. Yeah that's me. What can I say. I'm not usually a bad kid, it's not like I took the Rosanne Barr look-alike purse for fun. I was broke. I need the money. Hey being a runaway in Santa Carla isn't easy. Nor is it cheap. Especially since I ran over three hundred and forty-eight miles to get here. Why did I run to Santa Carla? I've asked myself the same thing since the day I first came to this little beach town nicknamed the "Murder Capital of the World." I can't explain it. I just had and unexplained pull to this place. Anyhow let's get back to me and see how my little adventure is panning out shall we.

The girl took off and disappeared into some empty alley. Soon She tipped the purse out onto the ground looking for anything useful. She grabbed really the only thing that would be any good to her. Cold hard cash. She left the rest of the contents of the purse strewn on the ground before peeking her head out of the alley. She gave a quick look around checking to see if anyone was tailing her. When she was satisfied no one was she stepped back onto the boardwalk cramming the cash into her dirty and faded jean shorts pocket.

She spotted a surf shop out of the corner of her eye and made her way over to it. Walking through the beaded curtain that hung there as a door she looked around. Typical shop. The hottest, newest 80's fashions hung all over the shop and the mannequin that littered the store. Behind the counter was some teen girl with overly teased hair who wore too many bright colors and an oversized shirt that slipped off one shoulder. She sat there popping her gum rather loudly reading the latest teen magazine. There were your typical surfer dudes drooling over the new boards while in another corner of the shop were your typical bleach blond air headed valley girls drooling over them.

She shook her head as she grabbed some clothes off some of the racks and made her way over to the counter where the girl with the mile high hair sat now attempting to tune a tinny sounding radio.

"Hey is there somewhere I can try this stuff on?" The girl looked up and rolled her eyes.

"It's like over there." She said pointing before going back to playing with the radio.

"It's like over there." the girl mimicked as she walked toward the back of the shop where the girl at the register pointed. She walked into one of the little cubicles and pulled the curtain closed behind her. Tossing the clothes on the makeshift bench next to her she began to peel her top off over her head. She then slipped off the shorts she wore taking the money from them before tossing them to join the rest of the clothes in the corner. She picked up the brand new denim shorts, turning them in her hands she looked for the price tag. She wrapped it around her fingers and popped off the tag.

"Oops looky the tag conveniently popped off." She said before slipping them on and shoving the money in the pocket. Next she took off her bra and slipped on the red and black bikini top. Over that she put on a grey hooded long sleeve jacket that had Santa Carla written across the back. She removed the tags from that too. Gathering the close she had taken off she walked from the dressing room walking right past the girl at the counter who thankfully was now distracted by a surfer guy. She headed out the door and down to the beach in her new threads.

Once on the beach she headed to the shower stalls that lined this particular section. She reached out pulling a towel off the corner of one of the stalls as she passed. When she found an empty stall she turned it on and dumped the clothes she had worn into it. She gave them a quick rinse and brought them to the shore. The sun was still high in the sky as she laid the towel she pilfered out. She dropped her clothes on one end to dry and she took the hooded shirt off and lay next to the clothes.

Yes I know. I'm too good at being sneaky. What can I say living on the streets you learn to survive or your screwed. Not in the good way either. So, anyhow. There I was soaking up the sun. Little did I know that this would be one of the last few days I would actually see the sun again. I was on a one way collision course with fate. I know you're probably sitting there like "What the frack girl?!" Just watch you'll see.

After a few hours the girl got up and took her now dry clothes and tied them up in the zip top jacket. The sun had set now and it was getting cooler. Walking back onto the boardwalk the girl decided to just hang out. She hit up a hotdog stand there and ordered a hotdog and soda. She walked along while she ate. As she passed a stand she reached behind the counter and snatched a plastic bag. She tossed her garbage in the nearest trash bin before untying the jacket and dumping the contents into the bag. She tossed the jacket on and kept moving. She spotted a carousel not too far so she decided to go and people watch.

She stood there watching the carousel make its way round and round then she noticed something. A group of guys were walking around the carousel. She normally wouldn't have paid them any mind but there was something different about them. They walked with an air about them. They sauntered between the horses She took note of them one by one. Their was a tall platinum blond with a mullet dressed head to toe in black. Behind him came a tall native looking guy with long dark hair in a leather jacket and nothing else underneath. The one that followed him another tall guy with dirty blond hair he screamed rocker to her the hair the clothes everything. Finally behind him was a shorter blond with curly hair a boyish face and an impish grin. He had on a bright color jacket that you could spot a mile off.

The carousel turned and they disappeared from her line of view. When they had come back around she had noticed the platinum blond trying to flirt with this blond who was sitting next to a rather muscly buff guy. She knew they were out of earshot of her but she couldn't help from putting her two cents in. "Seriously, dude you must have a death wish." The platinum blond was shoved back by the guy with the woman. His friends jumped to his defense. As did the huge mans. Again she lot sight of them as the carousel turned.

She ran around to the other side wanting to know what was going on. By the time she got there, there was a rent a cop on the ride with a nightstick around the platinum haired ones throat. She couldn't hear what was going on but one by one the boys jumped down off the ride before the platinum blond was released and calmly walked away before he too hopped off the ride. As they were walking away the girl walked past and accidentally bumped up against the dark-haired one. He gave her a quick glance and she gave him another once over before walking off.

Off in a quiet corner of a secluded part of the boardwalk stood a small booth. Outside stood a sign. Painted in big block letters and bright colors. Fortunes told $5. As the girl walked past she took a quick glance at the sign. "Oh what the hell. Why not. She'll probably just tell me a bunch of general hokum and nonsense but I'm bored."

She stepped into the tiny booth and looked around as her surroundings. It was all dimly lit with candles flickering. She could smell incense wafting through the air in thick clouds. In the center of the small room was a table covered in a celestial designed table-cloth with two chairs and smack dab in the middle of the table was a crystal ball. She walked over and took a seat.

"Hello! Is anyone here?" She called out. From a side room a small elderly woman walked out from a beaded curtain separating the room. She walked over to the empty seat and sat down. The girl was a little taken back when she looked at the woman. She sat there and stared at the girl. Her eyes drifting over her. "Don't be afraid deary I won't hurt you."

"Your.. your..."

"Eye? Yes it does unnerve some. The visions come clearer since this happened the gypsy woman said pointing to her left eye that was clouded over. She was blind in that eye. "Now let's get down to why you're here deary." She handed her a small bundle of herbs.

"Whats this for? The girl asked.

"Sage, burn it and use this feather to blow the smoke around and smudge the room." The girl gave a shrug and did what she was told.

Yeah I know I'm not all that big a believer in psychic, ghost, ghouls and things that go bump in the night but I figured just roll with it. What harm could come of it. Well . . . let's find out if I'm right or not.

Once the room was good and smelling of burnt sage mixing with the smell of sandalwood incense the old woman asked for the girl's hand. She gave it to her and the woman traced a finger over it. "You have a very long life line. In fact it is an unusually long one. I have never seen one like this. I also see love in your future. Let's see now. Stare into the crystal ball and relax."

The girl did so. She just saw the wisps of the smoke from the incense twirl round the ball. "Yes, yes I see. I see a tall, dark, handsome man he is beautiful but deadly. Not what he appears. It will be a child that brings you together."

"That I so general that could be anyone."

"You met him. Tonight by the carousel." The young girls face dropped.

"What?" there is no way you could have known that."

"Ah but I do child, but beware. There is also danger ahead. Red will run when he is near. Be cautious, there are things in this town that are not what they seem. Remember one more thing child. The last sometimes does not stay in the past. Now it is time you go my child."

The woman stood and walked back behind the curtain. As she did a gust of wind blew through the room blowing the candles in the room out. The girl felt a shiver run down her spine as she left the money on the table and all but ran out of the little booth.

She ran out onto the boardwalk again and barreled down this girl who was walking with a young boy. She stuck out a hand and helped her up. "Sorry bout that." The girl she picked up was dressed in gypsy fashion and had poofy dark hair. She didn't say anything in reply she just looked at the girl who knocked her over. The girl who ran out of the booth walked over to the boy. "You okay kid?" He just nodded his head as she tousled his hair. His eyes lit up and he gave her a small smile. "Good to know. Sorry bout knocking your sister down." She said before walking off into the night to try to find a place to sleep.

[sunlinesinner]

anxiety bubbles in my stomach when i see your face. you disgust me, and i’m obsessed with it. i’ve tried to tell people you’re crazy. i’ve promised myself that karma will come to bite you in the ass at some point.

but karma hasn’t come yet, and i wait in anticipation.

you’re such a bitch. and i’ll explain myself the best way i know how: a list, in chronological order. 

the things you’ve done:

it was little lies at first. you said you saw an angel. we were all religious and went to church together, so who was i to say you were bluffing ? 

you said you saw an angel. and then you said you had a full conversation with gabriel. about your homework. i’m not religious anymore but i guess if angels exist, its possible ?

you said you had depression. depression is common. a lot of people have it. i think i’ve got it. who even knows at this point ? we all feel a little bit depressed sometimes.

you said you had anxiety. we advised you to get therapy. 

depression and anxiety became your dominant personality traits. not actual depression and anxiety as your personality, just you talking about having those. all. the. time. your instagram stories becoming a shrine for the romanticized, attention seeking yet somehow trendy memes glamorizing slits on wrists and mouths full of prescription pills. you were turning into a walking advertisement for delicate pain that you can have too, free of charge. call yourself depressed on instagram and people will pity you. you reveled in the attention it brought you.

at first, people reached out. “you keep posting that you’re depressed, i just wanted to see if you’re doing okay ?” “hey let me know if you ever need a safe place to talk. i’m here for you.” and we were. we were there for you.

you said your parents were “looking into” getting therapy for you. i’ve been to therapy. it doesn’t take long to sign up. your dad is a therapist, he knows how it works.

you said your dad diagnosed you with anxiety and depression. you and i and your dad all know, that’s not how it works.

over time, fewer and fewer people reached out to you. it was the same shit. nobody knew if you were faking it or not. everyone wanted to believe you, because what kind of fucked up person fakes a serious mental illness for attention ?

people stopped listening. whether you actually had mental illnesses or not, you were treating it like some sort of fucked-up hobby. you weren’t interested in getting help. you were content with you father’s biased “diagnosis” and your depression and anxiety became nothing more than some fun, quirky words you liked to use to describe yourself. it was a meme. a troll. people stopped paying attention to you, and you hated it.

three is better than two ! you started saying you had panic attack disorder and people started listening again. several panic attacks every day, at school, you said. people who didn’t know what it means to have a panic attack started listening again. more desperately craved attention.

no, crying in the school bathroom at lunch is not a panic attack.

you started saying you had a stalker. oh, your journey with boys. i know i’m a bitch for writing this. i own that. at least i’m not committing service dog fraud. (oops, spoiler.) a stalker who would follow you home from school, you told everyone. never attached a name, just stalker. i mean, you could have been telling the truth. i just think that someone as desperate for attention as you would have been happy to have a stalker. 

you had a random stalker, and then your neighbor confessed his undying love for you. yep, the standoffish, chill surfer boy across the street had a fat crush on you. he begged you to date him. pleaded on his knees for you to be his girlfriend. he, a solid 7.5 with a decent personality, begged for you, a 4 on a good day, to like him back. almost comedic. you, of course, turned him down flat. he apparently got over it right away because he had a girlfriend a week later. (he’s not a fuckboy, they’re still together.)

you added more. a special type of eating disorder that’s so rare that you couldn’t remember what it’s called. (in which you just aren’t ever hungry but you eat regularly anyways ?) you “came out” as autistic to your parents, which is insulting both to those with autism and those in the lgbtq+ community. you started saying you were allergic to gluten and dairy, but ate both in copious amounts anyways. “there’s pills for that,” i told you. “eleven dollars at target to relieve the stomach pains you won’t shut up about. you don’t need a diagnosis for lactaid.” you never took my advice. you kept being loud, eating cheezits and begging for attention. you labeled yourself with more mental illnesses that i can’t remember. what i do remember is you listing them all. there had to be at least seven or eight. all without a therapist.

you graduated. actually, you took the ged and told everyone you graduated early. people congratulated you on being smart enough to graduate early and again, you reveled in their attention. i knew you took the ged because my mom was friends with your mom, and your mom told my mom who promptly told me. even my mom think’s you’re batshit crazy. i told a few of my friends who were for some reason still hanging out with you, who had gone to your graduation party. everyone i told was shocked that you lied about that shit.

you got a service dog. actually, you bought a dog off of craigslist and a vest off of amazon. you said you trained it yourself, and it was for your life-threatening disabilities that remained unidentified. but you didn’t always bring the dog places with you, especially when it was inconvenient like bringing it to disneyland. so i guess your life-threatening disabilities were only life-threatening sometimes.

i confronted you. i texted you, calling you out. i told you i didn’t believe most of the shit you were saying. i told you that if this was true, you needed serious help and instead you were posting shitty memes about it. i told you to stop lying about random shit like being allergic to gluten and having graduated high school. i screenshotted the whole conversation so you couldn’t lie about what i said.

you blocked me. then you posted on your story about how i had blackmailed you, i had stabbed you in the back and made fun of you for having mental illnesses. you said i called you weak for having mental illnesses. that i was a bully, that you were taking a break from social media because you were done with my harassment and needed some time to think about things.

you didn’t take a break from social media. you unblocked me and requested to follow me again. i denied your request. one of my friends sent me the post you had made about me, along with screenshots of you texting her calling me a “brat”. you’re a big girl, you can say bitch. that’s what i said about you. i sent the friend the whole conversation. i sent that conversation to several of our friends, actually. everyone was shocked at how you twisted my words. when asked, you refused to show people our conversation to prove you weren’t lying about what i said. you refused, saying that when you blocked me our dm conversation had disappeared. it’s funny because when i blocked you back, i still had the whole thing. 

we stopped talking, obviously. we still had mutual friends, so we were invited to some of the same events sometimes (only the big ones though. you didn’t make the “squad” pictures). you kept your head down. you didn’t look me in the eye. i could feel you staring at me when i wasn’t looking, but whenever i turned, your eyes whipped back down to your phone screen.

you were really bitter towards me. you talked tons of shit, but never to my face. the friends we shared were always closer to me than they were to you, so whenever you talked shit i’d hear about it. like one year, i was having a halloween party. one of our friends reported to me that you said you were gonna have an even better halloween party, and you were inviting 50 plus people. except nobody showed up to your party, and you ended up at my house at the end of the evening, sitting in the corner with your face illuminated by your phone screen. you should have just stayed home and saved yourself some embarrassment.

now, you’re leasing a tesla with money you don’t have for clout. you’re dating a boy who i’m 90% sure is a closeted gay (i hope this doesn’t come across as insensitive, my basis for this is that he wrote a song about being gay and later deleted the song off of his page). you’ve lost all of our mutual friends because they stopped believing your bullshit. you’re homophobic. racist. sexist. you probably unironically watch girl defined.

i mentioned at the beginning of this that i’m waiting for karma to hit you. but reading over everything i just wrote, it seems like it already has.

[sserpente]

My Trickster God is back 😍

This post contains spoilers AFTER the cut!!!

& Please also be careful about spoilers in the notes!!!

Heyho there my lovelies! I am back home now, I almost cried when boarding the plane because I didn’t want to leave London and I miss England so much already. However, I had a great time as my personal culmination was watching the new Thor movie yesterday night.

I loved it. I loved it so, so much and I can guarantee you I will see it again really soon. Actually, I’ve accidentally just booked tickets to see the movie again on Halloween. Oops.

There even were three cosplayers working at the cinema. A Thor, a Hela and a Loki, so after the movie (this was so funny) I went to ask “Loki” for a picture. 😏 His reaction was hilarious. He was like “Just with me?” to which I replied “Well… you’re the king.” and then I turned to Thor and said: “Sorry.” The playful shocked expression he gave me was priceless and I’m telling you, this is what would happen if I ever met Thor and Loki on the street.

I got so much new inspiration. Starting from today, I’ll be working on new Imagines, my Loki multichapter fic and “Pleasing You” Part II, so stay tuned for some ragnaro[c]king new stuff.

But let’s talk about the movie, shall we?! I really want to share my thoughts with you guys, so IF YOU HAVEN’T SEEN THE MOVIE YET, DO NOT KEEP READING! MASSIVE SPOILER ALERT!!!

Let’s start at the very beginning, yes? It all happened so fast I am almost surprised Thor saw right through Loki when he came back to Asgard but given the way “Odin” behaved, I think everyone would have seen through it at that point (how did the Aesir not notice, like what). It was hilarious. Technically, Loki doesn’t need anyone to worship him, he’s fine doing that himself even though I am still a little irked they made him a “bad” king. I almost screamed when he finally came on screen though and damn, does he look hot or what?! 😍 Please let me kneel before him and feed him those grapes, for Fuck’s sake.

Loki in his black suit killed me, so a part of my soul is still in that cinema in Leicester Square. It’s hilarious how Loki dropped Odin off at a homeless shelter, my God of Mischief is so ridiculously wicked, seriously. 😏 And oh my god, you guys, Loki attempting to lunge at Strange is literally what I imagined what would happen after his epic fall. It’s part of my fanfic already, it’ll be such fun. 😏

So… I think I have told you that I was so hoping Odin would finally die in this movie and now it has finally happened! 💪 If you ask me, that dick got what he deserved. I mean, Hela was the villain in this movie (and I bloody love her character, she’s amazing) but she actually showed the audience (which didn’t ever root for Loki at that point) that Odin has in fact always been an arsehole. It still touched me though how he kept saying “my sons” when talking to them for the last time.

And when Thor “prayed” for Odin in the spooky circle? (Shoutout to Kork, he’s amazing too) Loki appearing behind him, joining him, them saying the last words together? Can we please point out that Loki has a good heart deep inside? You could see it there clearly, everyone did. ☝️

Alright. So… Hela is Thor’s sister. OMG. I recall our theory of Hela being Loki’s birth mother and I still support that headcanon but it wasn’t that far-fetched, actually. They are related, in a way. My reaction in the cinema was like: 😱

However, I am really glad nothing happened between Loki and Valkyrie (unlike what many people assumed). She’s a great character and I mostly relate to her cocky attitude but on the other hand… I still want to punch her in the face?! You get what I mean, right? And, considering the looks Thor and Val (I can call her that right) gave each other at some point, I think we all know where this will be going. I’m glad. Loki is mine anyway. 😌

Also, I didn’t know Loki could look into people’s past by touching their forehead? I mean… this is some good stuff for new Imagines, is there anything our Trickster God can’t do?! 🤤

I have to admit, I was a little scared of Loki being “the butt of the joke” in this movie. I feared they would downplay his complex character but in my opinion, they did a great job and even if he didn’t end up being the king (friendly reminder that I would still kneel before him), I’m mostly happy about how he got treated in the movie. Except for Thor being a violent little shit. Everytime everyone went like “har har” in the cinema, I went like “noooo”. 😥

By the way, we now also have the information that Marvel!Loki can in fact shapeshift. I mean, we never knew for sure, we know he can create illusions of himself but now it’s offically canon he can shapeshift into animals. Shoutout to Thor for bringing up Loki turning into a snake as a child to scare Thor. Did you see that smirk when he told that story?! Did you see it?! 😍

Also, I almost started crying when Loki said “It hurts, doesn’t it, being lied to.” OMG. In your face, Thor. My poor Loki. Throughout the whole movie, I just wanted to hug him over and over. 😭 Among other things… but that’s not the point. 😈

Even though I hated Thor being so violent (leave Loki alone, you giant oaf), I loved how he kept throwing things at him to make sure he was real, especially in the end when he caught what he threw at him, naaaw. Brother love. In the end, they kind of found each other again, perhaps because Asgard being destroyed connected them somehow? What do I know but I love how it all turned out, even if Loki didn’t end up on the throne… for now. 🤔

Can we talk about that post credit scene as well?! Hey, if Thor wants to bring Loki back to Earth, he’s most welcome to crash at my place. Besides, 10 quid says Loki took the Tesseract, which brings me to my next point; I am beyond content we will be getting even more of Loki in May next year already. I bet that was Thanos’ ship. Avengers: Infinity War is going to kill me yet again. How many times am I supposed to die for this brilliant character?!

I cannot possibly describe how much I loved this movie and I cannot wait to see it once more and fangirl again. What did you guys think about it? Personally, I didn’t read any of the countless “official” reviews because most of those self-proclaimed movie experts tend to critisise every little detail and ruin it for me.

So, what are your thoughts? Tell me you were as thrilled as I was? 😜

[thisdaynews]

The Myth of ‘Unchained Hillary’

New Post has been published on https://thebiafrastar.com/the-myth-of-unchained-hillary/

The Myth of ‘Unchained Hillary’

As most Democrats look ahead to 2020, Clinton and her fans keep using Twitter to relive and recast 2016. Online, at least, there are still plenty of people who refer to her as “Madam President,” and she tosses this club a steady stream of caustic little bonbons: subtleMean Girlsreferences, snarky clapbacks, dry comments like “Yes, I am famously underscrutinized.” Fans responded to that one with cheers and GIFs of Rihanna putting on a crown. A writer forEsquiresummed up the sentiment: “You’re having fun now, aren’t you?”

The tweets have helped conjure an image of the former candidate you might call Unchained Hillary, or, as some of her Twitter followers have dubbed it, Hillary with “zero f—s left to give.” The idea is that, unconstrained by public office, unfazed by critics and trolls, Clinton feels free to unleash a looser, truer, more spontaneous self. Her Twitter account is the most reliable vehicle for this version of Hillary, but she has shown flashes of the persona at public appearances, too: flipping through a book of her emails at a Venice Biennale art installation and filming a Halloween bit for about the scariness of the Electoral College for theDaily Show with Trevor Noah. In early December, she spent hours chatting with Howard Stern, talking trash about Donald Trump and Bernie Sanders, even addressing head-on the rumors that she’s a lesbian. (“Never even been tempted,” she said.)

Unchained Hillary is perceived not just as a set of tweets but almost a new character on the political stage, the candidate her fanswishhad run in 2016. She is casual, snappy, direct and less inclined to carefully triangulate every public statement. And her presence over the past few months, online and in a string of book-related media appearances, has sparked a whole new round of speculation: Could Unchained Hillary have beaten Trump? Could she swoop into the 2020 field? Is she laying the groundwork for yet another phase of a political career?

But Clinton’s fans might want to cool off their enthusiasm. If you take the full measure of Clinton’s career, her voice appears less as a reinvention than as a kind of solar eclipse: Without the candidate version of Clinton to dominate our view, delivering cautious speeches and walking rope lines, her online persona shines through far more clearly. And that persona isn’t a new thing. It’s a side of Hillary Clinton sharpened by what you might call the default voice of Twitter: Sardonic, mildly bitter, unafraid to say what everyone else is thinking. It’s the same voice her digital staff worked hard to craft in 2016. Hillary, and whoever still might tweet for her, has been good at that for a while. So what is she using her voice for now?

***

Donald Trump may get all the attentionfor being the first candidate who used Twitter to disrupt politics, but if he’d never come along, with his unspellchecked fire hose of insult and puffery, Clinton stood a good chance of being that person. Even before young upstarts like Reps. Alexandria Ocasio-Cortez and Ilhan Omar made emojis and quote-tweet clapbacks the norm on political Twitter—in fact, well before the 2016 race—Clinton’s digital staff was pioneering a new political tone on social media.

Early on, the Clinton team understood how to seize the made-for-internet moments that fell in their laps, as shown by one well-known episode in 2012 when Clinton was secretary of State and Reuters published a candid photo of her wearing sunglasses and staring at her BlackBerry. Two young Washington public relations hands launched a Tumblr blog featuring imagined text exchanges between this boss-lady version of Clinton and various public figures. One sample exchange from the blog went like this: Barack Obama: “Hey Hil, Whatchu doing?” Clinton: “Running the world.” Clinton’s staff had the instinct to capitalize on the moment: They quickly reached out to the bloggers, contributing an entry and inviting them to meet her. It was proof not just that she could get a joke, but that she could toss it back in fluent internet-speak. (There is a cautionary tale embedded here, too: It was literally that photo of Clinton on her Blackberry that prompted the initial questions about her use of a private email server.)

Imagewise, the moment felt like a stake in the ground, a sign of new-media savvy at a time when many veteran politicians found the internet a mystifying entity. And in the 2016 race, Clinton doubled down. To run her digital operations, she hired Teddy Goff, who had been President Barack Obama’s digital director in 2012, and led a staff of Brooklyn-based “content producers” who aimed for a savvy, conversational voice. “We’re not competing with Donald Trump on Facebook,” Goff told theNew York Timesat the time. “We’re competing with your best friend, your spouse, your mom, last night’s Olympics clips.”

Ultimately, though, Clintonwascompeting against Trump. And when you look back at the candidates’ bodies of social media work, you can see how hard Clinton’s campaign worked to match the energy of Trump’s insane, magnetic feed—and how successful it was in crafting something to meet the moment.

Trump wielded the medium much as he does now, with a reflexive mix of anger, pride, insults and oddball jokes. His tweets were an extension of his mood, his brain and his ego, and they felt like a manifestation of his true self. When his staff tweeted for him, it was often obvious: No one else could have crafted that voice. Clinton’s feed—which, like many other politicians’, was largely ghostwritten—was more tightly attuned to the social trends of the moment. Her staff balanced sly references to the Trump campaign with the salty terseness of Twitter clapbacks. “Delete your account,” read her most-retweeted entry. It came in response to a snide comment from Trump about Obama’s endorsement of Clinton. “(It’s only Wednesday.),” she tweeted in May 2016, above an image of a statement from her campaign chairman describing a rash of questionable behavior by Trump that week. “Vote your conscience,” read another, a reference to a speech Ted Cruz had made an hour and a half earlier at the Republican National Convention. (That tweet was paired with a link to a voter registration page.) Her feed was also savvy about pop culture; when Trump used an image of “Frozen” merchandise to defend himself against charges of anti-Semitism, Clinton shot back with a “Frozen” reference that eviscerated his argument.

Woven in with these grabs for clicks and cash were videos of the candidate at African American churches and talking with little girls—the kind of anodyne fare that, in a previous campaign, might have been the entire social media program. Clinton’s team didn’t have the luxury to fall back on feel-good messaging, so it made the most of the sometimes odd combination of her wonkish, earnest persona and Twitter’s hard-edged cynicism. The feed could be informal, curt, and bold. It aimed at looking effortless, even when tweets were layered with carefully considered meaning. In the case of the “Wednesday” tweet, for instance, Clinton was essentially dunking the ball after an alley-oop pass, adding humor on top of a substantive point—a tested social media trick to make the original point spread farther and wider than it would have on its own. “If there is one thing that the internet likes, it’s being really direct. If there’s been a change in how Hillary engages online, then that’s probably it,” Goff told Elle magazine in the summer of 2016.

The effort didn’t always hit the mark. Both supporters and critics on the left complained about the glibness of a tweet that asked, “How does your student loan debt make you feel? Tell us in 3 emojis or less.” Overall, though, Clinton’s social media operation was noted for its fluency in internet. “Hillary Clinton’s Twitter game is #Strong,” read one Elle social headline. A piece in Mashable explained “How the Clinton campaign is slaying social media.” By the July before the election, she had about 7 million Twitter followers, compared to Trump’s 10 million. (They’re now at 26 million and 68 million, respectively.)

The trademark success of her digital team was taking a candidate frequently knocked for her lack of charisma and building a charismatic online presence around the parts of her personality that matched. And in some ways, Twitter’s snarky milieu made that easy. In real life, Clinton “has a very biting, sharp sense of humor, or a very sharp, humorous way of making serious points,” says Philippe Reines, Clinton’s longtime aide, spokesman and debate-prep sparring partner. “Twitter allows us to say things that ordinarily would stay in your head, or in the room you’re in, and share it with the world.”

***

Today, Clinton’s staff is largely gone,and it’s safe to assume her Twitter voice is more reliably her own. “She has a very small office, and it’s mostly scheduling, correspondence—so there’s no ‘they,’” Reines tells me. Sometimes a staff member will have an idea for a tweet, he says, “but she’s not one of these absentee landlords on her Twitter account at all. And certainly nothing goes out without her, you know, putting her imprimatur on it.” Goff declined to comment for this story; another longtime Clinton spokesperson ghosted.

Clearly, there’s something real about the Clinton we see now, but the campaign DNA remains.

There’s the same dry sarcasm, as when she tweeted a clip of Trump talking about Ukraine to news reporters and commented, “Someone should inform the president that impeachable offenses committed on national television still count.” There’s a very non-boomery engagement with current pop culture. Over the summer, she had a brief exchange with pop singer Lizzo; last spring, she tweeted at Trump with a famousMean GirlsGIF in which Regina George asks, “Why are you so obsessed with me?” She wields hashtags like #tbt, which she artfully used to reference her time spent, as a young lawyer, on the Watergate impeachment inquiry. And she tweeted a fake letter from John F. Kennedy to Nikita Khrushchev, lifted from Jimmy Kimmel writers, that was obviously primed to spread like wildfire—much like the made-to-go-viral tools her campaign created, like a “Trump Yourself” filter that let users overlay Trump quotes on social media photos.

On the other hand, Clinton issues even more tweets that feel like official communications from an ongoing campaign. There are plenty of cheery, milquetoast tweets promotingGutsy Women, the book she co-wrote with her daughter. Policy endorsements get threaded in, sometimes less artfully; after the World Series, she turned a congratulatory tweet for the Washington Nationals into an endorsement for Washington, D.C., statehood. Still pinned to the top of her feed is a line from her 2016 concession speech about the value of little girls.

Reines agrees with the notion that there’s nothing new about Clinton’s public persona—and that, over her decades of public life, as she’s taken on a broad range of public roles, people have always tried to search for hidden meaning in the same old communications. “Look, I started to work for her in 2002. I’ve gone through this ‘something’s changed’ routine,” he tells me. “I really think it’s in the ear of the beholder.”

So if she’s still maintaining the persona, and the presence, her staff built to run for president in 2016, what’s it all for this time? Clinton has publicly pushed back on the idea that she’ll run again. But there are clues scattered throughout her 2017 postelection memoir,What Happened. The book was mostly infused with a sense of mourning for a presidential administration that wasn’t to be and a place in history as the first female president. At one point, she shared a passage from her planned election night victory speech, in which she imagined meeting her mother as an 8-year-old and telling her that her future daughter would grow up to be president. It seemed clear that she saw her loss, not just as a shock or a thwarting of ambition, but as something closer to personal tragedy. It was an emotional defeat she could manage in part by retreating from public life: walking in the woods, spending time with her grandchildren, going to the theater.

Now, though, she has recovered and rebounded is and back on the public stage, through some combination of circumstance and calculation. She wrote a book about successful upstart women, with a massive book tour scheduled for the run-up to an election year—and a built-in reason to maintain a Twitter presence. And the fact that her book appearances coincide with the Trump impeachment drama makes her loyal fans cling even more fiercely to their alternate vision of 2016, the fact that she won the popular vote, the lingering “I-told-you-so” factor. She’s still a political player, but the campaign is different this time: It’s a bid to solidify her place in history. And without the grueling work of actually going out on the stump, she still gets to act like a candidate. Occasionally.

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