#i felt Crazy doing the transcript search for this. but i hope this turned out to be...something that makes some amount of sense

[pocketgalaxies]

I will never let you go.

[souryogurt64]

I enjoyed your essays and i feel that they were things you should be proud of having made

Ok yes I am proud of the essays. 

However, at this point, I have said basically everything I wanted to say in them and I don’t really know if I want to write any more of them. 

I also intended to become a music journalist someday when I started the zine. I don’t really want to become a music journalist anymore because it seems like it actually sucks. 

I also know I will never be able to achieve that, because I was recruited to market AI before ChatGPT was a thing and the overall public developed a very deep hatred for AI and anyone associated with it. 

While this comes with its own challenges, I thrive in tech startup environments and the career I have achieved is incredible and more than I could have ever hoped for considering my age and educational background.

However, the main issue is that very frequently, I get plagiarized, or people take an incredibly inappropriate amount of credit for things I have worked hard to achieve, in order to very successfully further their own endeavors. 

I have not been really good at turning the essays into some kind of huge success for myself, and that’s what I want. I deliberately do a lot of things to keep the essays contained to a certain degree. I have known multiple people personally who achieved a high level of indie success, and I have seen the horrible stuff they went through because of it, and I do not want that kind of circus in my life, especially considering the fact that I am happy with where I am professionally. 

However, it is still incredibly hurtful and upsetting to be taken advantage of like this over and over when so much time and love goes into these essays. 

For example, someone on Tumblr who does not like me plagiarized my first Panic essay, inserted a bunch of mean digs at me being crazy in it, posted it on Reddit, and got more upvotes than I got views. 

A famous YouTuber with over 500K subscribers based a video around my essays, inserted a dig at me into the video, and then got 155K views on this video. A real journalist that was interviewed for the emo history book commented on this video saying how amazing and well-researched it was. 

A girl who ran a podcast interviewed my favorite writer, very obviously implied to him during the interview she found all his old articles and all this lore about him on her own and had been a fan of his since the 2000s, and then advertised this podcast in my ask box. The guy who wrote the aforementioned book also interviewed him and like I can’t prove these people read my essays but the timing is certainly, well, suspicious. I know I do not own or invent this information but given how obscure it is and the fact she was probably advertising herself in my asks it is pretty obvious what happened here. These essays aren’t just one google search that anybody could have found, putting all of that together and finding all of those sources was a ton of work. 

Finally, I don’t want to give a lot of details about this out of respect, but someone I used to be friends with heavily used the zine to get a job in music and meet a member of MCR. I personally felt like during our involvement, which ended about a year before this happened and because of the following, she intentionally misrepresented the percentage of labor she was actually doing, pushed a lot of “dirty work” like transcription onto me in order to obtain all the benefits of networking with publicists and musicians without doing the work, and sabotaged the most important interview I ever did with this specific goal in mind. 

Everybody seems to think this kind of thing is completely OK and it’s OK to treat me this way because like just a crazy juvenile fangirl that needs mental help so I don’t matter and I didn’t do any real work, whereas they’re LEGITIMATE and SERIOUS and COOL so it’s okay to steal my ideas and my research to further their own shit. I am getting really sick of it and it hurts my feelings. 

I also had a lot of bad and stressful things happen to me recently (grandma dying unexpectedly, dumb injury, best friend at my job getting laid off, little brother needing emergency surgery essentially on my birthday, cat shelter being closed) and privating the essays is something pointless I can control to make myself feel better. 

[dynadratina]

Hello, Azula finally got announced her own comic what are your thoughts and how excited are you?

Hi, thanks for the ask! (And sorry it took a bit long.) I’ve seen so many interesting analyses about this on my dash, but I haven’t had time to really delve into them yet. So I’m not sure if I’m repeating something that’s already been said (better) by someone else. But here’s what’s been on my mind anyway.

To start, the previous comics (The Search, Smoke and Shadow) were a big let-down for me in regards to how they handled Azula. I’ll go into more detail below, but basically I was turned off by how she was made into a one-dimensional bad egg, much like Ozai was. The comics portrayed Azula as a heartless schemer since early chlidhood, implied that her friendship with Mai and Ty-Lee had zero genuineness, and chose to make a show of the effects of her breakdown rather than stepping back and examining the cause of it. Given that the character traits and relational dynamics those two comics established about her are part of official lore now, I don’t think this comic can really undo them. But still, I think there might be hope, namely if this comic really is 100% an Azula comic. That means there’s no Zuko involved in the plot, no Gaang, no Ikem, no Kiyi, and no Ursa. That way, the comic can do something that I think really needs to be done, which is finally give Azula's perspective on her pain. Just her memories, or musings, or the like, with no other main characters’ arcs distracting from it. This might not lead to her getting a redemption arc or closure from her previous friend/family relations in the comics timeline, but at the very least it can inject some glimmer of light and hope into her path. (More beneath the cut)

In my eyes, the main problem with Azula’s treatment after Sozin’s Comet is that her trauma was put on the backseat, while her evilness/craziness/machinations, etc. were given center stage. Personally, this isn’t entertaining for me, but as a more concrete problem, it’s an abrupt departure from where the show left her off.

Sozin’s Comet broke down Azula’s villainous persona and brought her pain into the forefront -- namely by showing that when everything else was stripped away, she was really just a hurt girl who felt like no one loved her, not even her mother. So in defense, she chose to prefer the role of someone who doesn’t care about love and only wants to be feared. This is a really deep and painful issue to have (one that I could personally relate to at one point), and I think it’s something that’s very important to explore.

But The Search doesn’t do that. It just puts Azula right back into the villain role she started out in, only this time she’s just more erratic. Every time her visions were showcased, there was a lot of spotlight on how crazy she looked, how villainous she was acting, or how exasperated Zuko and the rest of the Gaang were due to her.

But there was no introspection, no deeper dive into Azula’s emotions before and after Sozin's Comet. The best glimpse we get into her mind is vision!Ursa telling Azula that she needs to "remove her mask", i.e. drop the front she's been holding up her entire life, which is that of someone who rules by fear.

(Dialogue transcription) Azula: I should probably be grateful! After all, you’ve saved me the trouble of finding you. Ursa: All your life, you’ve hidden behind a mask of intimidation and fear. Azula: Prepare to meet your doom! Ursa: Take off your mask. Only then will you see the beauty of your true destiny.

If we go by the theory that this Ursa is nothing more than a figment of Azula's mind, then this is essentially Azula's subconscious telling her that this "feared evil princess" facade is unnatural and unhealthy to her. So, on some level, Azula knows she's on the wrong path and needs to change it.

But we already knew that -- Sozin’s Comet told us so. And we already saw Azula confronting her subconscious this way, namely in the mirror scene. Why are we seeing it again? And why is Azula now under the impression that all of her problems in life stem from Ursa, and that Ursa is the direct instigator of everyone’s hate for her?

From a storytelling standpoint, there’s technically no problem with having Azula face the true sorce of her pain a second time after the dramatic mirror scene. But the second time should build upon it somehow, or introduce a further aspect to the situation that details Azula's character development between those two events.

To be honest, I really can imagine Azula “relapsing” from her realization in Sozin’s Comet (namely, that her problems are the fault of her trauma-informed choices) into a bleaker, more fatalistic viewpoint that destiny itself somehow ordained for her to suffer in life. It’s honestly extremely relatable to read about someone who realizes that they had been living by a wrong choice for a good chunk of time, and instead of peppily fist-bumping the sky and going “I’ll just do better from now on!”, they fall even deeper into despair and go “Why me? Why did I have to suffer from this for so long?”

Maybe Azula had a moment like that too post-Sozin’s Comet, where she felt that she had somehow been doomed from the beginning to never be loved by anyone. And since Ursa’s face was attached to the words that she was a monster, it would make sense that Azula would come to associate Ursa as the “perpetrator” of this fate of hers.

But all of this would have to be embedded in the narrative. At some point, there would have to be a scene in the comics (from Azula’s POV or otherwise) where she stops, takes a melancholy break from whatever devious goal she’s following at the moment, and puts this mental journey into words. Say something like: “What choice did I ever even have? You, Mother, treated me like a monster, so that’s how everyone else in my life came to view me. What option did I have other than to use fear?” That would have given Azula’s obsession with Ursa some emotional continuity, and maybe even some relatability.

But instead, Azula is reduced to repeating the same bland phrases like “Prepare to meet your doom!” at Ursa, or vague variations of “How did Ursa manage to turn you against me?!” at various characters. All the while we’re given no reason as to why Azula thinks this way or what her personal takeaway is from the events of Sozin’s Comet. We’re just expected to sit back and watch what she’s become.

For example, here’s one of the “crazy” lines from The Search that sort of-kind of hints at Azula’s mental journey after Sozin’s Comet:

(Dialogue transcription) Katara: What are you talking about? Azula: None of you had even met me yet! How did she (Ursa) convince you to help her ruin my life?!

Once again Azula reveals her delusion that Ursa has been manipulating her life from the beginning. This would have been a good time for the other characters to ask why Azula thinks this way, or even to try to get through to her that such a manipulation is impossible.

But the moment is brushed aside, and it’s painted as little more than crazy Azula being crazy. And the most The Search tells us about the reason she’s being crazy is that she’s ignoring her true destiny. Which, according to S&S, is... to turn Zuko into a Fire Lord who rules through fear? Okay, but what does that have to do with Azula`s pain? Setting aside the fact that this can’t even be the destiny she wants (because as her visions show, she doesn’t want to rule through fear), the fact that Azula was unaware of this “destiny” before is not the reason she started crying when vision!Ursa told her she loved her. The reason she started crying, which was carefully built up by the show, is that the fact (imagined or otherwise) of Ursa not loving her caused Azula pain, and that the facade of the perfect, feared girl that Azula put up later on was just a defense mechanism.

This is what The Search and S&S should have explored. In the wake of the show showing us that Azula was in pain, the comics should have told us in more explicit terms -- how, why, since when, etc. They should have emphasized that Azula had trauma from her chlidhood just like Zuko had, and put Azula on a journey that was somehow relevant to that pain (healing it, or exploring it, or otherwise). Not swept all that buildup aside and sent her on another itinerary of evil plans and grand ambitions that seem to have no relation to it.

The only vague seeds of acknowledgment of Azula’s pain come from the part in The Search where the Gaang visits Noren/Ikem’s and Noriko/Ursa’s home. We see a picture of Azula, Zuko, Katara, Noriko, and Aang sitting together, Katara and Aang marveling about the lovely home they have, Zuko also smiling (his head turned towards half-hidden Kiyi), while Azula sits with her arms crossed, looking unhappy and distant from everyone else.

Also Azula acting generally cold, in stark contrast to Zuko, who happily interacts with the innocent Kiyi:

(Dialogue transcription) Kiyi: Wanna meet my doll? Azula: No. Zuko: Of course.

(Dialogue transcription) Azula: That’s right. Only I didn’t give my dolls haircuts, I gave them headcuts! Would you like me to show you? Kiyi: No! Zuko: Azula! Stop it!

Though even these scenes serve more to make Azula out to be a “monster” than underline the fact that she’s experiencing a severe lack of something; that she has a genuine need and desire that isn’t being addressed.

Then towards the end of the comic, we get the "real" Ursa (Noriko) making a supposedly-accurate observation that Azula's mother didn't love her enough, and apologizing for it.

(Dialogue transcription) Ursa/Noriko: If what you say is true... if I really am your mother... Then I’m sorry I didn’t love you enough.

But this apology doesn't come from the person Azula needs it from, which is Ursa with Ursa's memories. It could be a start (although I didn’t like this scene personally), but the topic is never brought up again once Ursa regains her memories. What did she mean by “not enough”? What is Noriko (who is seeing Azula for the first time) seeing in Azula that no one else is? The Search could have given us that, at the very least. But once Ursa regains her memories, the comic just ends with her and Zuko taking a happy walk into the bright Hira’a morning.

In Smoke and Shadow, Azula plays the role of the villain, with a great plot and scheming and cool firebending. But again, nothing about Azula’s pain. And hardly anything from the person who’s the most tied to it. The only thing we get from Ursa is this:

(Dialogue transcription) Ursa: I was actually thinking about my other daughter... Zuko: ... Azula.

Ursa doesn't even refer to Azula by name -- just as "her other daughter". Which again solidifies the narrative's portrayal of Azula as being the problematic one, the one who for whatever reason just can't be normal like Kiyi and Zuko. Yes, one could make the argument that Ursa's overprotectiveness of Kiyi in S&S is a result of her overcompensating for not having done enough for Azula, but until this is somehow made more explicit (like by being articulated by Ursa), it’ll still be up in the air, and it won’t be doing anything to acknowledge side of Azula that hurts just like the other Royal Family members hurt.

Yes, Azula's behavior in the comics is erratic, and it probably precipitated from her breakdown and her subsequent stay at the asylum. Yes, she’s still a dangerous individual, and it wouldn’t make sense for the Gaang to immediately start trusting her to the point of having deep personal conversations with her. And it also wouldn’t make sense for for her to do a complete 180 after Sozin’s Comet and not hold any antagonistic feelings for them or her family whatsoever. But the point is that all of those things resulted from Azula lacking the love she needed from her mother. Whether this lack was real or imagined, it's still a foundational influence on Azula’s character, and it’s an issue that deserves to be explored rather than pushed aside for more “interesting” things like her craziness, cool firebending fights, or evil machinations. Azula deserves a better post-breakdown development than that.

There was actually a really good moment in The Search that I’m sad wasn’t bulit upon. It happens once the Gaang leaves Ikem’s house:

(Dialogue transcription) Azula: Ugh. More than once tonight I was tempted to burn that whole place down! But I resisted for you, Zuzu. I hope you appreciate it. Katara: How could you even think that about such a lovely family?

(Dialogue transcription) Azula: Oh, please. Their charade disgusted me. Nobody’s that happy!

Gee, I wonder where Azula could have gotten that idea from? Maybe it's because she never got a glimpse of a happy family life? Maybe because, even in the days that Zuko refers to his family as being "actually happy", Azula never really felt that because she always felt like her mother's love was missing? I want a comic that explores Azula that way, instead of having the other characters scold her like a misbehaving toddler for not having the correct joyful response upon seeing an example of the happy loving family she never had, and just leaving it at that.

So to summarize, Azula needs to be given time to take a step back and examine her pain. It would be great if she got another character’s help (like a mentor who genuinely cares about her), but she could just as well start that journey alone. She needs to process her pain, lucidly reflect on where she went wrong, what things were out of her control, and what she truly wants her future to look like now. Maybe she can even retell some of her scenes in the previous comics from her point of view and use those as a springboard for her reflections. If this new comic does something like that, then I’ll be happy.

If not... well, then there are still No Comics in Ba Sing Se xD

[erikismybitch]

Part 4

An invitation

The journal never left her side all day . Any chance Shanae got, she was reading . Like a sponge , consuming all the information.

“Shanae Moreau!”

Her name had been called loudly. The receptionist at The University of Acorn had called her . It was time for her counseling appointment . She wanted to attend this school badly , even though it was an hour journey from her home . Education was her main reasoning for moving back home. Shanae went to the desk, where the receptionist directed her to the correct office .

The counselor informed her on everything she needed to be admitted . The application was due two months from the date . And after looking through her previous transcripts, the counselor assured her she was a sure fit . She gave her a few documents about financial aid and scheduling .

Shanae placed the papers in her messenger bag. Her bracelet was missing . Her body froze , she could feel her heart fall to the bottom of her feet .

“You okay?” The counselor noticed her troubled expression and asked her .

“Yeah, yeah I’m okay” she screamed internally .

Shanae tried her hardest to hope for the best . The bracelet must have fell off at home , maybe it slipped in the car .

Only, it wasn’t in the car.

Beads of sweat began to build at her forehead, she practically flipped her car upside down searching for it . She finally took a seat, afraid that a panic attack would come forth. The bracelet was the only thing she had of value , the only thing she had to remember her mother by. Besides faded memories.

Shanae sped home , it was a surprise that she didn’t crash. Given her current state of worry , she could hardly focus on the road .

She pulled into her driveway. The black Mercedes was in her spot . Erik stood on her porch waiting for her . Within this chaotic moment, he was the last person she expected to see . She got out of the car.

“Hey, what the hell are you doing here? “ she walked towards her porch. Just as she was about to go off she spotted her mothers gold bracelet in his hand. “Oh my god ! “ she rushed towards him and grabbed it . Her hands shook as she tried her best to put it on her own wrist . The tears began to swell up into her eyes .

Erik took her palm into his hands , she stopped shaking from his touch . This had been the third time Erik had come to her rescue. Maybe it was a sign , Erik somehow belonged in her life.

“Let me try” Erik said lowly , her eyes looked to his as he locked her bracelet in place . “You left it in my car last night”

“This really means a lot to me, thank you”

Her hug caught him off guard , he stumbled back but held on to her . Her scent , so alluring that he never wanted to let go . He’d be okay with just holding her forever .

“No problem “

She pulled back , embarrassed that she had been so emotional in front of him . And also so mean at first .

“I’m sorry” she rubbed her hands on her thighs anxiously. Erik had come out of his way to return her bracelet , the least she could do was offer him comfort. “Wanna come in?”

There it was , the invite he had been wishing for . He followed her inside . Erik looked around at the house . It was nicer than he imagined, but nothing like how he lived . It didn’t matter , Shanae could live in a box and he’d still be smitten. He watched her walk off into what seemed to be the kitchen . Erik couldn’t stop himself from wanting to know everywhere she was .

This new found desire , he had never experienced anything like it . It all started when he was in the parking lot of Walmart. Erik was loading his trunk with bags when smelled her . Shanae was walking past with Daphne, she didn’t even notice him watching . Erik and others like him only had the ability to smell blood. But this was something totally different. Like fresh cookies out of the oven . An infant that had just been bathed . The air after hard fall rain. He was drawn to her from that very instant. He followed her home and everywhere she went throughout her days in Nightland. He even took it upon himself to watch her from her window every night .

Erik kept telling himself to stop, that he was driving himself crazy . But he couldn’t shake it. Then he saw her with John that night , Erik gashed his tire and created a game plan . One that lead him here this very moment . Inside of Shanaes kitchen , watching the beautiful expressions on her face as she talked to him about her past .

“So are you from Nightland too?” Shanae asked Erik, after giving him the run down about the many places she had lived . She tossed him a can of Coke , Erik would pretend to enjoy it for her sake . He couldn’t scare her off with the “I’m sorry , I only drink blood from humans “ excuse .

“Nah, I was born in South Africa “

Shanaes eyes shot open, like most people when he told them that .

“Always wanted to go, I was going to take a solo trip but hey ...maybe you can take one day” she eased her statement with a short laugh.

“Maybe” he smiled, she could have sworn she saw the hint of a fang through his lips but she disregarded it. She thought her dreams and the journal were messing with her mind .

“Why did you come back here?” He asked

“I was struggling back home , my Aunt died and left me this house . I literally had no choice “

“Why not sell and take the money? “

Shanae went on to tell him about how she had visions of raising her kids here. Maybe starting a small farm in the back yard. Becoming a school teacher , living an easy mellow life .

There was nothing easy and mellow about Erik’s life , but she was worth the try, even the balance . “I’m glad you came back , and I’m glad we crossed paths” he flirted . Erik wanted Shanae to know that he was in to her , to say the least . He had come here to make his claim. Erik had marked his territory day one.

Shanae played coy and turned away from him. She hid the smile that he had so blatantly put on her face . Her thoughts kept reflecting back to the dreams she had about him. Now, the Knight was actually in her presence. She looked over her shoulder, her hair swayed over to one side . Erik could have died over that one expression alone .

“Stay for dinner?” She gave him more of a command rather than a question .

“I’m not really hungry “ he told her . Even though she turned away from him, he could see her sad expression through the window . “I’m on a strict diet , that’s the only reason”

“Still stay if you can, Erik. I’m kind of enjoying your company” she did it again , turning to look at him over her shoulder . She was gathering the things she needed to prepare her meal .

“That’s insulting , only kind of?” Erik placed his hand on his chest , pretending to be hurt .

“Don’t take it personal, I don’t usually like people . I don’t have a lot of friends “ she paced the kitchen back and forth as she made her dinner . They continued to tell eachother about themselves, growing closer by the minute .

Not even noticing the admirer outside . Erik’s animal style instincts would have usually let him know that someone was near . John filled with envy as he watch the two of them laughing and conversing like a couple . He knew he shouldn’t have let Shanae go home with him the other night . The only thing stopping him from going inside was the fact that he knew what Erik was . He also knew what she was too. John stayed there, up until the point of hugs and goodbyes . Before Erik could walk out and spot him, he sped off into the late night .

Shanae found herself under her heavy covers . Oddly , she had a smile on her face . She hated being giddy , because with giddiness came vulnerability. Erik was everything she liked in a guy, for now . But she didn’t know how long that would last . Especially if the things written in the journal were true .

Thoughts of Erik consumed her, until she fell asleep . And just like each night he came into her bedroom.

This time, she was on top of him. Both bare as the day they were born . Erik’s hands roamed her brown back as they kissed. She moaned loudly when his tongue locked with hers. The small markings on his body rubbed against her nipples.

Erik’s hands found her waist , he used his strength to grind her into him. Letting her acing clit rub against his hard dick . She begged him to let her feel it for real . Weeks she had been yearning to feel him inside of her .

“I know you want this shit bad” he kissed her neck, then sucked on the spot he knew she liked . He sucked harder and harder until it became painful. Soon the pain had turned pleasurable, making her squint her eyes and scream out.

“Bite me!”

She woke up , in a puddle of her wetness and sweat . She turned her body over to reposition and felt a sharp ache in her neck . Shanae touched it, the very spot that had been tampered with in her dream . It was sore .

Strength- Most vampires die by silver . The strong use the silver to mark their body. It burns , leaving war scars to place fear in the weak.

[thebarsondaily]

To Catch A Dream

for @amagicalshipper

Title: to catch a dream Author: @notesfrome Rating: T Summary: Liv goes for a vacation with Noah, leaving Barba to come to a rather significant realisation and conclusion about what he feels for her. A/N: I haven’t written Barson in yonks, and it really felt good to write something about one of my most favourite OTPs ever again. I tried to make it very festive and Christmassy but unfortunately, the muse wasn’t talking to me that way. Nevertheless, I hope @amagicalshipper (and everyone else) will enjoy this!

It was the week before Christmas, and Olivia was not in New York. It had been a hell of a year, and she had decided to take some time off – a rarity for her - and go on a holiday, just her and Noah. They needed this time together, to be family. It was surprisingly easy for Fin and the squad to convince her to leave her work phone and her badge behind – which indicated how worn out she was by the year.

Barba walked into the squad room on the first day of her absence, his eyes drifting subconsciously to the closed door of her office. It seemed different without her in the room, even with everyone else doing what they usually do – Fin on his computer, Amanda getting a snack by the vending machine, and Carisi being a pest as usual.

“Hey, Barba, what’re you doing here?” Carisi chirped, swivelling around in his chair.

Barba rolled his eyes. “What kind of inane question is that? The last I checked, I am the ADA for SVU.”

“W-ell…Lieu is not here for the week, so I didn’t think you’d…” his voice trailed off at the glare on the lawyer’s face.

“Is that supposed to make sense, Carisi? I’m here because we have an ongoing case that’s currently on trial? And speaking of which, I hope you’re ready to testify?”

“Someone’s in a Grinch mood today,” Carisi muttered to Fin under his breath, and then he cleared his throat. “Of course, Counselor.”

“Good,” Barba said snappily. “Sergeant Tutuola, I need the full verbatim transcripts of the suspect’s statements for me to prepare my closing statement. Have them sent to my office within the hour.” Without waiting for Fin’s reply, he turned and left the office, feeling irritated and inexplicably off, for some reason. He pulled out his phone as he walked, and scrolled to Olivia’s name. He was in the midst of typing out a message when he stopped.

She was supposed to be on leave, and having quiet time with Noah. It didn’t seem appropriate to text her on work matters, and to be honest, he didn’t need to, it was all under control. He deleted the contents of the message, and stared at her name, his thumb hovering over the keypad.

He could send her a message, a personal one…but as close as they were being colleagues, and as much as he would call her his friend (his best friend, even), they had never been the sort to send each other messages just because. It wasn’t something they do.

Decisively, he locked his phone, and slipped it into his pocket. He had a trial to attend to; and there was still work that needed to be done. Texting Olivia Benson was not on the top of his priority list.

Which was why it was strange, that he found himself occasionally scrolling to her name whenever he looked at his phone that day.

-

Barba stood up, buttoning his suit jacket, drawing in a breath before he launched into his closing statement. His confidence was sky-high – Carisi did really well in his testimony, and he was certain that they were going to win this case. As he delivered his arguments, and although his attention focused on the jury, he found his eyes drifting, on occasion, to the spot behind his chair, where Olivia usually sits.

With a slight jolt, he found himself realising that he didn’t remember a time where she wasn’t sitting there as he presented his closing statements. Because she was always there, her eyes trained on him, fueling his fire, silently pushing him to win.

The realisation didn’t deter him from his focus, however, and he finished his arguments with a resounding bang, the final nail on the coffin of the scum that they were putting away. And he was proven right a mere three hours later, as the jury returned from their deliberations with a guilty verdict.

As he shook hands with the survivor and her family, as Fin clapped him on the back on a job well done, he found himself thinking of her, thinking of the way she would nod at him and touch him on the shoulder, a satisfied smile on her face.

Good job, Barba.

He smiled briefly to himself as he reminisced, and on a whim, he pulled out his phone, and typed two words.

We won.

Her reply came through less than five minutes later.

I know you will come through.

Smirking slightly, he tapped out a reply to her.

Surely you never doubted me, Liv? As if there’s ever going to be any other outcome, but that.

His phone pinged mere moments later, with two words on the screen.

Smart ass.

As his fingers swiped across the keyboard, typing out his reply, he could almost see her face as he read her words, that slight eye-roll, the corner of her mouth quirked into a smile. By the end of the day, his phone was filled with messages from her – messages that were mostly unrelated to work.

Maybe he was wrong. Maybe they were the kind of friends to send each other chatty, random messages, after all.

-

“Sorry I’m late, Mamì,” Barba dropped a kiss on his mother’s cheek, and settled into the chair across from her.

Lucia smiled at her son fondly, touching his hand briefly. “It’s all right, Rafi, I am used to it.”

He frowned at her slightly. “If you’re trying to make me feel guilty, you’re succeeding.”

“I am doing no such thing,” Lucia declared. “I only worry about you, you work too hard.” She eyed him carefully as he signalled the waiter for a scotch, picking up the menu. “Is the lovely Lieutenant Benson driving you crazy again?”

“No, fortunately, she is not,” Barba drawled, picking up the scotch that was just served to him. “She’s on vacation, with her son, so I’ve not seen her in the last three days.”

She nodded, and was about to say something when his phone emitted a soft beep.

“Mamì, is it all right if I…?” He gestured towards his phone, and she shook her head. Frankly, Lucia would prefer it if Barba puts away his phone whenever he’s having dinner with her, but she knew that his job demanded him to be available at all times. She watched as her son read the message on his phone, a smile spreading across his face as he rapidly tapped out a reply, before slipping his phone back into his pocket.

“That’s not a work-related matter,” she observed, as he looked at her, his expression slightly sheepish.

“No, it’s not. Sorry, Mamì, but I’m with you now,” he said, taking another sip of his scotch.

She tilted her head slightly, studying him as she smiled. “Was that Lieutenant Benson?”

Immediately recognising the tone in his mother’s voice, his forehead wrinkled into a slight frown. “Mamì…don’t start. Liv and I, we’re not…”

“I like her, you know. She challenges you,” she interrupted, ignoring him.

Barba huffed slightly. “Honestly…” his phone beeped again, and his eyes drifted towards his pocket, but he restrained himself, making no move to retrieve his phone.

“Oh please. Rafi, do go ahead.” Lucia picked up her wineglass. “I’m sure you’re missing Lieutenant Benson.”

He was taking a drink, while reading Olivia’s message, and he sputtered once he heard his mother’s words. The automatic denial bubbled up in him, but before he could voice it, he stopped, as the realisation hit him.

I miss her.

Across from him, Lucia gave him a knowing smile.

-

Barba accepted the coffee from the barista, and took a sip gratefully. It was near lunch time, and this was only his second coffee for the day. Saying that he had felt deprived for the entire day thus far was an understatement.

Taking another drink, he was reminded that this was the exact spot he said goodbye to Olivia four days ago; where she had smiled at him and tossed him a wave, telling him she’d see him in a few days’ time. And he remembered that he had felt a little pang that he couldn’t quite explain.

He could explain it now, of course. He had felt thrown by his realisation yesterday, to put it mildly. He hadn’t realised what a constant she had been in his life. He was so used to having her with him, and not seeing her had somehow shifted his world. Not much, he admitted, but enough so that everything felt different, felt off.

His phone vibrated them, snapping him out of his preoccupied thoughts, and he answered it without looking at the screen.

“Barba.”

“Rafael, it’s Liv. Carisi said we ran into a snag with the Jensen case?”

Hearing her voice brought an involuntary small smile to his face, even if she was asking about work. “Liv, you’re supposed to be on vacation,” he chided.

“I’m sitting by the beach, watching Noah building a sandcastle, so I’m most definitely on vacation. Anyhow, what’s wrong with the case?”

“Nothing is wrong, Carisi’s being dramatic,” Barba answered, rolling his eyes. “There was a small inconsistency with the sister’s statement, but we sorted it out. I don’t want know what was Carisi doing, calling you and making a big deal out of it.”

“Hmmm,” she murmured absent-mindedly. “Actually, I called him for an update, and then he said I should call you.”

“Liv,” his tone was reprimanding, and she read his mind immediately. Her laughter sounded over the phone, merry and oh-so-familiar.

“I know, I know. Vacation. Which would be over in two days’ time.”

“So make the best out of it,” he said, finishing his coffee and tossing the empty cup into a nearby trashcan. Casting a glance towards the coffee cart, he contemplated another one.

“I will. I gotta go, Noah’s calling me. Glad everything’s all right with the case.”

“Go,” he shooed, tucking his phone between his ear and shoulder as he searched for the change to get his third coffee.

“I’ll see you soon, Rafael. And go slow on the caffeine.”

He smiled as he heard that, she really did know him so well. And he knew that she also knew that he would ignore her advice, and get that coffee anyway.

“Counselor, you’re looking cheerful.” He turned around to see Carisi and Rollins walking towards him, with the former grinning away. “Talking to Lieu, were you?”

Barba raised an eyebrow as they joined him. “I would tell you that’s none of your business. And why did you tell Liv we ran into trouble with the Jensen case when we actually didn’t?”

Carisi shrugged. “She asked for an update, and I just told her the truth.”

“Embellished truth.”

“Truth nonetheless. And besides, I know you miss Lieu. Aren’t you going to thank me for asking her to call you?”

“Detective, now that is really none of your business,” Barba snapped, feeling a rare flush rising in his cheeks, and praying fervently that they would just think it was the cold air.

“But you do, don’t you?” Rollins chimed in, looking just as annoying as Carisi.

Barba scoffed haughtily, and then he turned and walked away. They could think what they wanted to, but he wasn’t going to admit anything to those two. He certainly wasn’t going to give them the satisfaction of being right about him.

Because it was true, of course. He missed her.

-

Barba was pouring his first coffee of the day, in his office, and as he had been doing for the last few days, he typed a quick message to Olivia. It had become some sort of routine, one that he was quite comfortable with.

They exchanged a few messages, the first ones about work, and then drifting off to a story about Noah seeing a Santa Claus on the beach, and getting confused about “why isn’t Santa in North Pole, preparing all my presents”.

As he was in the midst of typing a response, his phone rang. Smiling, he answered it, knowing it was her on the other end.

“I thought it’ll be easier if I just called you,” she said, and he could hear Noah’s voice in the background. “Is that Baba? I wanna say hi to Baba!” There was a slight scuffling noise, and then Noah’s voice sounded in his ear, bright and cheery. “Hi Baba! It’s me, Noah!”

“Hola, amigo,” he answered, amused.

“I saw Santa Claus! On the beach! Mummy says Santa is having a holiday before he starts working hard on Christmas Eve.”

“Did you say hello to Santa?”

“I did! And…and…”

“You’re getting ice cream all over your hands, Noah,” Olivia’s voice sounded.

“You should go finish your ice-cream, amigo. You’ll tell me the story when I see you, okay?”

“Okay, Baba! Will I see you for Christmas?”

He was about to answer in affirmative when he stopped himself. It seemed to be a bit too presumptuous, even if he did want to say yes. He was saved from answering as Olivia’s voice came back on the line.

“He’s certainly excited about Christmas.”

“Every child is, Liv.”

“Mmm-hmm. So, will he see you for Christmas?” She asked, her voice casual. “He bought you a present, and he wants to give it to you on Christmas day. You could come by during lunch time? We could have it together.”

His heart skipped a beat, but even so, he refused to think of it as more than anything her words portrayed – a casual invitation to a friend. “Sure, I could do that.”

“Oh good. I’ll make something simple. But don’t worry, I’ll make sure you’re well supplied with scotch,” she teased.

“Well, that is very kind of you, Liv,” he drawled. “What time is your flight reaching tomorrow, anyway?”

“Eight o’clock. I just hope the flight will tire Noah enough so he’ll sleep. It’s a chore getting him to sleep on Christmas Eve.”

He laughed. “Good luck to you, then.”

“Why, thank you. Anyway, I’ll see you on Christmas day, I’m looking forward to it.”

“Miss me, do you?” The words were out before he could stop himself. There was a pause, and he felt his heart dropped when she didn’t say anything. It was a mistake; he shouldn’t have said it, but he was seeing her in his mind, her smile, the light in her eyes, and it just came out. Just as he was trying to think of other snarky words to add to that, to diffuse the situation, her voice floated over the line.

“Actually, yes. I really miss squabbling with you.” Her voice was jokey, but there was something in it, a tone that he couldn’t quite place, a tone that told him that it wasn’t just about the squabbling. It stretched between them, the connection, their connection, or perhaps the truth – the truth of the feelings they have for each other.

Seven days apart from her, and he realised that he missed her, really missed her. Seven days was nothing, in the scheme of time and distance, but this was the way he felt.

“Me, too,” he answered finally, and he could almost see her smile. As she rung off, her warm goodbye still reverberating in his ears, Barba came upon another realisation. It came out of nowhere, the thought entering his head, almost unbidden, but it was so clear, so true, and so obvious, that he wondered what took him so long to see it.

He didn’t just miss her; he was in love with her.

-

It isn’t too grand a gesture, Barba thought, for him to be at the airport, waiting for her and Noah. He didn’t want to wait until Christmas, because he wanted to tell her now and then, all that he had realised, in the eight days that she had been gone.

He saw Olivia as soon as she emerged from the arrival gates, holding Noah in one hand and pulling her suitcase with the other. A rush of emotions swept through him as their eyes met, with her looking exactly like the way she did eight days ago when she said goodbye, looking like she had never left.

“Rafael!” She called, and maneuvered her way through the crowd, reaching him in a matter of moments. Noah immediately ran to him, calling his name, and he placed his hand on the boy’s head, but he kept his attention on her. “What’re you doing here? I certainly didn’t expect to see you here.”

As excellent as he was with words, Barba had never been good at this – enunciating his emotions, feelings, so he settled for the plain and simple truth.

“I missed you,” he said, and just in case it wasn’t clear enough, he repeated himself. “I really missed you.”

She looked at him intently for two seconds, and then she reached out and took his hand, linking his fingers with hers. A beatific smile spread across her face, and he felt his heart lifting. “I missed you, too.”

He took a step forward, still holding onto her hand, and then he leaned closer, and kissed her. He could feel her smile against his lips, as she curved one hand around the back of his neck, pulling him closer as she kissed him back.

They were interrupted by an innocent voice, chiming above the hubbub of the airport. “Baba, why are you kissing Mummy?”

They broke apart, and Olivia looked at him, and then at Noah, her cheeks slightly flushed. Barba knelt down, so that he was eye-to-eye to Noah, and then he told him the truth. “Because,” he said, “I love your Mummy.” He looked up at her, and her face told him all that he needed to know.  

“Oh,” Noah said. “I guess it’s okay for you to kiss her, then.”

His eyes met Olivia’s, and they both broke out into laughter, as Barba stood up, and took Noah’s hand in his. He stretched out his other hand to her, and she took it without hesitation, fingers curling around his.

He missed her, he loved her, and he never wanted to be apart from her again. And she felt everything he did, because she loved him, too, as much as he loved her.

[fanfic-collection]

Swan Song: Loki x Reader - Ch 10

Natasha opened her eyes slowly, every inch of her ached. She blinked a few times and looked around, realizing she was in a hospital bed. She let out a soft sigh of relief, knowing that she wasn’t about to relive what happened with Sharpe.

Closing her eyes, she allowed her head to sink back into the pillow.

Then suddenly her last memories came rushing back: Clint helping her escape, the car, the explosion, then Clint…

Tears pricked at the corners of her eyes as she remembered her closest friend staring lifelessly ahead.

“Hello my sweet spider.” A silky voice purred from nearby.

Natasha’s eyes shot open and she swallowed hard.

Standing at the foot of her hospital bed, leaning over her and grinning wolfishly, stood Sharpe. His icy blue eyes were as cold and calculating as ever as he stared at her maliciously.

She clenched her fists, trying to move to defend herself, but there were too many casts. Sharpe slowly strolled around the bed, grabbing a chair and sat down beside her.

He leaned forward, leering down at her. “I’m quite fond of this position I have you in.” Sharpe reached his hand towards her cheek and she flinched. He tilted his head back a small reprimanding smile and tsk’d at her. Then very gently he stroked her skin with the back of his hand. Natasha shuddered at his touch, desperately trying to pull away. All she could settle was for turning her head from him.

Suddenly Sharpe’s hand gripped her hair and wrenched her head to face him. “Look at me, you mewling quim.” Sharpe snarled, for the briefest second his blue eyes seemed to shimmer green.

“No…” Natasha breathed out.

Then it faded and his eyes were blue once more. Sharpe smirked down at her, “I said Barton would be the one to kill you, but I see that plan didn’t go as I originally envisioned.” He tilted his head to the side, still looking down at her, “no matter.” He murmured softly. Very slowly and deliberately, he pulled away before standing up. “Don’t go crawling anywhere, my little spider. Not that it will matter, in a few minutes, you’ll think this was only some bad dream.” The dark haired man waved his hand and a faint green glow emerged, wavering in front of Natasha’s face. She felt her eyelids grow heavy and slowly drifted off to sleep, the encounter already long forgotten.

Loki chuckled darkly once he was in the hall, slowly returning to his disguise.

Sharpe glanced down at his watch, checking the time. His face lit up as he realized you would be asleep soon and he could talk to you.

Without a second thought of the Black Widow, he left the hospital and hurried back to his room.

-

“Hello darling.” Loki murmured.

You opened your eyes, realizing Loki was holding you in his arms in the same dream room. “Hey there.” You replied with a smile. You paused for a moment, studying his face. “You look pleased.”

Loki nodded then buried his face in your hair, slowly moving over and planting kisses down your neck and shoulders. “I am.” He hummed.

“Any reason in particular?”

Loki kissed your bare shoulder again before shaking his head, “You’re here.”

You pulled away and squinted your eyes, trying to study him. “No, something happened.”

“I checked on the spider, she reminded me of how much I missed you.”

You frowned then nodded slowly.

“What’s wrong?” Loki asked, noticing your change in demeanor.

“I don’t like being jealous.”

“You really shouldn’t be.” He kissed your cheek again.

You pursed your lips, thoughts racing as you began mentally mapping out a plan.

Loki stopped kissing you and pulled away, “What are you thinking about?”

You quickly straightened your face, “Nothing, nothing, why?”

His eyes darkened and he scowled at you, “Don’t lie.”

“I promised Steve to dinner, just thought of it, trying to think of where would be best.” The lie came easily, particularly because it was buried in the truth. You really should take the soldier to dinner; he would appreciate that of you.

Loki’s eyes flashed angrily, “You’re thinking about that right now?”

Apparently that struck a nerve, distracting him from sensing a lie.

You shrugged.

Loki rolled you over until you were on your back and he knelt over you. He stared down at you darkly. You looked back at him, trying to gage his mood.  Loki leaned down and kissed your hip lightly before looking back up and locking eyes. Then he gripped your arms and pinned you down, biting and sucking the skin harshly, then darting his cool tongue out to soothe the rapidly forming bruise. You hissed in pain at first, then breathed out a sigh of relief at the cool sensation.

“Mine.” Loki growled.

After he had his way with you, you woke up.

-

You looked around, still gasping hard, body covered in a layer of sweat. Sitting up, you glanced towards the nearest mirror and saw that you were still disguised.

It was morning, so you got out of bed and made your way to the bathroom to shower. As you stripped of your night garments, you felt a slight pain in your hip. You looked up at the bathroom mirror and raised an eyebrow in mild surprise: apparently Loki had opted to leave the mark on your hip. You winced lightly at the dark mark, but saw that it was the only sign of last night’s interaction.

You nodded thoughtfully as you stepped into the shower, mind already made up of what to do.

-

After getting out of the shower, you wrapped yourself in a towel and made your way to the kitchen. You searched for the cellphone Loki had kept magically hidden, ensuring he could be contacted in an emergency. Picking it up, you quickly dialed a number. Then, turning the music on loudly in your apartment, you waited for the ringing to finish.

“Hello?” A deep baritone voice answered.

“Jameson?” You murmured lightly.

“Oh! Miss (y/n), I didn’t expect to hear from you, Sharpe didn’t say anything.”

You interrupted him, “That’s fine. When does he intend to visit his guest next?”

The line was quiet for a moment, the other speaker clearly thinking of his answer. “I believe next Monday, might I ask why?”

“I’ll be needing a ride that day as well, he intends to meet me there.”

“Very well. We’ll have the helicopter ready for you for then.”

“Thank you kindly.”

When you arrived at Stark Tower, almost immediately, you ran into Steve.

“(Y/n)?” He yelled in surprise. Then he ran forward and picked you up, hugging you tightly and spinning around. “Wow! It feels like ages since I last saw you.”

You beamed at him, pecking him lightly on the cheek. “No kidding! These last few days were crazy busy.”

“You’ll have to tell me about it.”

“Only if you promise to buy me dinner.” You winked at him with a broad smile.

Steve laughed, “Alright, it’s a date!” He paused. “Err, is it?”

You bit your lower lip and nodded, “Yea, I’d like that.”

“Fantastic!” He rubbed the back of his head, suddenly looking shy. “It’s been a while since I’ve done that.” He confessed after a few moments of nervous silence.

You stood up and kissed him lightly, “I’d be happy to get you back in the game then.”

Steve’s eyes drifted shut as your lips touched his. When you pulled away, his eyes immediately shot back open, face beet red. “Wonderful.”

Someone loudly cleared their throat behind you. “Well, I hate to break this up, but we are on company time.” Tony Stark called, looking annoyed.

You quickly stepped away from Steve, folding your hands in front of yourself. “Sorry.” You mumbled sheepishly.

Pepper Potts stood beside Tony, look faintly amused. “Welcome back, Miss Smith. I have a few transcripts I need you to take care of, if you don’t mind.”

“Absolutely.”

“And we need to talk.” Tony shot a look at Steve.

“What is it?” Steve frowned, noticing Tony stare slightly too long at your short skirt as you walked away with Pepper.

“Well, other than that fine ass…” Tony began. Steve glared at the shorter man who quickly changed his voice, “SHIELD called. Things have been weird.”

“Weird how?” Steve asked.

You and Pepper were out of earshot by that point and you couldn’t hear Tony explain what he meant by weird. A sense of unease rested at the pit of your stomach. Making a mental note to contact Loki, you continued to dutifully follow after Pepper.

“How was your trip?” She asked as the two of you rode upwards in the elevator.

You sighed heavily, “Busy, long, a handful. You know how those sorts of meetings end up.” You smiled wryly at her.

Pepper nodded sympathetically. “They’re the worst. Tony always sends me. Steve is fortunate, he’ll never have to know the pain of it.”

You laughed, “Lucky guy, and so sweet.”

“I heard you two making dinner plans, how’s that going?”

“Good, I hope. I’ll be out of town again on Monday. I wouldn’t mind five minutes of downtime, you know?” With Loki, granted, but constant travel was still exhausting.

Pepper squeezed your shoulder lightly, “It’ll come soon enough, you know how starting in new cities is.”

The elevator door opened and a shorter man with curly brown hair and glasses stood in the doorway. “Oh, hey Pepper.” He greeted, his voice soft.

You swallowed hard, stomach clenching as you recognized the man immediately.

“Hey Bruce.” Pepper smiled then looked back at you. “Oh, (Y/n), this is Bruce Banner. Bruce, (Y/n) Smith.”

Bruce smiled and held his hand out for you to shake.

“A pleasure to meet you.” You forced a smile as you shook his hand.

“Pleasure to meet you too.” Bruce’s voice was calm and easy as he answered you.

“Are you going up also?” Pepper asked.

“Oh, this is going up?” Bruce sighed, “No, I was looking to tell Tony that his schematics were off.”

You kept your face blank. Loki held no fondness for this man and you were loath to draw attention to yourself.

“He’s downstairs talking with Steve. Miss Smith and I will be in Tony’s office if you need anything.”

“Alright, take care.”

The elevator doors slid shut and you let out the breath you had been holding. “Isn’t he the hulk?” You whispered warily.

Pepper frowned, “He prefers the other guy. But Bruce is sweet, don’t worry about it at all.” Then she smiled, “Just don’t make him angry.”

You forced a laugh. The elevator finally reached Tony’s office and the two of you exited, setting about your daily work.

-

On Saturday, Steve took you to a local diner for dinner. It was a place he had grown up going to. He reminisced the entire time about his childhood, you sat there listening in rapt silence. Every detail he said, you made a mental note of, stockpiling it away for possible future use.

The two of you walked back to your apartment late that night, shared a simple goodnight kiss and parted ways. Once you got inside, you immediately went to sleep.

Loki hadn’t been able to contact you since the first night you returned. Dreamwalking could be exhausting and it put him on a different sleep schedule than you. The dreams also passed in normal time so he lost vital hours to the day if he spoke nightly. Therefore, the nights he visited were usually something of a surprise. You also knew that the longer he went without seeing you, the more he looked forward to your return.

Sunday you had a few short errands to run for Pepper, but had the afternoon off. Steve was busy on something SHIELD related, it gave you an uneasy feeling but you couldn’t risk worrying about it, not yet.

As you stood in line, waiting for Tony’s dry-cleaning, a couple beside you began talking about government uprisings happening in southeast Asia. It was still fringe knowledge, but you realized Loki’s movements were becoming noteworthy. Luckily he had spread his involvement so thin, it appeared that these military coups were completely independent of his influence. The contacts you had with SHIELD hinted that Tony and Steve had been recruited to help with some of the messier interventions and you inwardly sighed in relief.

The Monday morning finally rolled around and the helicopter sat waiting for you. Within hours you would arrive at a small private hospital a short distance from Loki’s headquarters.

[ober-affen-geil]

Roswell New Mexico New York Comic Con 2019 Cast Nerds and Beyond Round Table Interview: Michael Vlamis

Note: this is a “round table” so there is more than one interviewer. I have differentiated them where I can but they do not identify themselves in the video and I had difficulty keeping track of them, so my accuracy is most likely minimal.

Transcript:

[intro music for the first 8 seconds]

Interviewer 1: At the end of the season, uh, you make some pretty amazing changes-choices, uh, new relationship, uh you got your hand back -

Vlamis: Yeah. That wasn’t a choice [laughs]

Interviewer 1: Yeah I know, but uh, but can you tell us about where you’re going in this new season.

Vlamis: Oh man definitely.

Interviewer 1: Relationship-wise.

Vlamis: You know to be honest I don’t want to uh -

Interviewer 1: Siblings and love.

Vlamis: I think the most interesting thing this season is Michael Guerin is - he has no idea where he’s going. He is reeling and he is uh, he’s a madman trying to escape all the feelings he has at the top of the season. And he really reverts back to his old ways, I mean I’ve gotten to - a lotta fights, booze, lotta nail polish, lotta chest hair, uh it’s been, it’s been really fun to portray that but also [gestures] while covering, you know you’re doing all that covering how much pain he’s in. Um, but yeah it’s been a journey, there’s so many changes going on, I think he’s just, the biggest one is Max is gone. And that’s the biggest one he’s trying to cope with. And...and I guess it’s not the biggest ‘cus there’s relationships in there too. The kid’s a mess! The kid’s a mess, I will say that.

Interviewer 2: Would you say that this season has been more of a challenge to film for you as an actor than season 1?

Vlamis: Ohh that’s a great question. Um. [pause] Yeah. Definitely. Also though because different challenges right? Season 1 is like nobody knows who I am, and I’m coming in there with something to prove, and there’s like a weight to that, but I like that weight. Season 2 is alright now people know who I am, I need to smash all expectations. So there’s another weight to that. And then...you know losing a brother. Is such a feeling. And I’ve experienced something a little similar, and ripping [gestures] - opening myself up to let those feelings come in, [sighs] that’s been really tough man.

Interviewer 2: So you think that you can kinda express your own life though the character then, like you’re connected in that way?

Vlamis: Always. Yeah, always. That’s how, yeah - I feel like, I feel like no matter who I’m playing you know, I definitely just try to make a life connection. ‘Cus then it’s just real. I don’t know, I don’t know if I’m that good of an actor [laughs]. I think I’m just good at like, I don’t know going through therapy on screen.

[Interviewer laughs]

Interviewer 3: Um, I’m from Nerds and Beyond -

Vlamis: Wooo!

Interviewer 3: And I just want to say “hi” and uh, we’re big fans of yours. But uh, Carina teased that uh, in episode 2x05 that you had a pretty rough scene and that everyone on set was pretty much crying, or that you made her cry, can you tease us anything about that?

Vlamis: That is - what we were just talking about is exactly it.

Interviewer 3: Ok.

Vlamis: Uh, what can I tease. I mean it was definitely something I’ve never done before. 

Interviewer 3: Oh, ok cool.

Vlamis: But it was something I’ve experienced in real life. And it’s just, it’s just you’re watching a kid cope with loss. That’s, that’s what it is. Episode 5 really, things are coming to a head for Michael Guerin when it comes to the feelings of losing a brother. He’s been masking it, masking it, and everything kind of hits him at once. And...yeah, you know you don’t see him super vulnerable. You saw him like that last year - you see him like that with Tyler, Maria, situations like that, but most people you don’t, but last year he got there when he lost his mom. And obviously losing Max means, means as much if not more. You know.

Interviewer 1: Will he feel compelled to like, try to fill Max’s shoes? Uh, kinda be a leader, taking care of Isobel you know -

Vlamis, overlapping: That’s a great question because...yeah. I think Max was always the hero. And I think Michael Guerin resents that a little bit. Uh, not, not resents the fact that Max was a hero but the fact that like, [gestures] Max always had to be the hero. Especially with sacrificing himself for Rosa, you know. So I, I think Michael Guerin’s a little salty about that. He’s just pissed that he lost a brother. That - in a move that didn’t have to be made. And that always hurts the most you know? Yeah. 

[two interviewers try to speak]

Interviewer 3: No, go ahead.

Interviewer 1: No, you. 

Interviewer 3: Do you feel, with season 1 and all, because of the original I don’t know if you guys felt like you were stepping into something, do you feel like with season 2 that you guys are now kind of branching off onto your own and being able to kind of step out of the shadow of that show, I don’t know if you guys felt that at all.

Vlamis: Yeah, you know, I will say that I think a lot of people THOUGHT we felt that way with the first season. Just because it’s hard to not feel that way. But, we had a lot of conversations about how we really knew we were bringing something new to the table, and wanted to do something new, wanted to tell a different story, you know it’s based off characters from Melinda Metz’s books right? And not the Roswell TV show. So you know I tried to stay away from any research on the Roswell TV show ‘cus I didn’t wanna - total respect for Roswell and they laid the foundation for us - but I didn’t want it to be what that was. And Carina and everybody, they wanted their own rendition of it. Um, so I think we always knew we were coming in and doing something different for season 1. And season 2 is just now like honoring what we did. And making it better. You know. The cast and crew has come together in such a way that we’re a real well-oiled machine right now. And things, things are moving.

Interviewer 1: Can you talk a little bit about the relationships, personal relationships with Maria, and with uh, Alex. Where are we going with that? And where would you like it to go?

Vlamis: Oh man. To be honest I don’t know, I don’t know where I would like it to go. Uh, I enjoy working with both actors so much. Uh, I think it’s exciting bouncing around, I think it’s fun, I think it’s mischievous, uh it’s fun for fans, you know, fun for my character. Uh, they’re both such different loves. I know when I’m working with Heather I - it’s a new love, you know, it’s a freeing love. Every time I look at Tyler in the show, as Alex, I see like a hammer, or - you know I see, I am reminded of tragedy. So it’s just [gestures] I come from such different places as an actor when I go into these scenes. But that doesn’t mean things don’t get tough for me and Maria. Or things don’t get easier for me and Alex. Uh, I spend a lot of time with both this season. And it’s, yeah, it’s exciting, it’s fun.

Interviewer 1: What was the most challenging uh, scene or thing for you to do from season 1?

Vlamis: From season 1.

Interviewer 1: Yeah.

Vlamis: [pause] Probably...it has to be that, that last episode. Just like, believing that my mom was dead. Believing that I was losing my mom. I mean I was literally like [gestures] just convincing myself like “dude my mom’s dead,” like I was just saying it over and over again, going in circles, and I was, I was sick. I was like sick - I was depleted. You know, emotionally depleted. I’m not one of those actors you just like [snaps fingers] “cry right now, turn it on, hey we’re acting”. I, I felt that she was gone and I went for that, yeah sometimes it works out really well, sometimes I’m just out of my mind. Um, but it was, I was really proud of that work. I think that that was some of the best work I’ve ever done in my life and uh, I was really proud of it. Because you don’t know. You don’t know what you can or can’t do until you do it and...I felt good about it, you know. And then we had Tyler’s good song come in over that prison scene, kind of, you know - bring everything together with editing anyway so. Definitely those scenes.

Interviewer 2: So season 2, were you surprised by anything when you kind of got an overview of what was going to be going on, with your character specifically?

Vlamis: Dude, I was surprised at how much it related to my real-life. That’s what I was surprised by. I think it’s so strange.

Interviewer 2: It’s like a parallel between your character and you then, it’s very similar.

Vlamis: Yeah. It’s so weird. So weird how that works.

Interviewer 1, overlapping: In what ways?

Vlamis: What?

Interviewer 1: What ways?

Vlamis: Uh, in uh losing somebody. Losing somebody. ‘Cus before - I lost a buddy you know several months ago and before that happened, I would’ve related to this story in such a new way. I would’ve had to figure out a different way in. But then that happened, and it’s exactly what happened in the show. It’s just so strange how they - how the parallels...it’s just like when I booked Roswell you know, I was going through a break up and I was just searching for something. And that’s what Michael Guerin is searching for. Family, hope, acceptance, you know a place. And it seems like at the start of every season life just hits me with something that’s like “now you’re ready for the season” whether it’s good or bad.

Interviewer 2, overlapping: It’s like you’re real life is running parallel to the show.

Vlamis, overlapping: It’s art imitating life, yeah. Exactly. Um, that was the biggest surprise.

Interviewer 2: That’s crazy actually. 

Vlamis: It’s crazy. I talk to my parents about it all the time it’s so wild, and the only thing I can do is like, know that my buddy would want me to honor him the best I could, he was a big believer in my career, me as an actor, he gave me a gift. Best gift he could have given me, and I gotta honor him right. 

[interviewers together] Thank you.

[thisdiscontentedwinter]

hunger - chapter 11

Hunger master post. 

 Stiles is surprised at how easily he fits in with Scott and Melissa. He doesn’t have that same feeling he did at the foster homes they put him in. Like he had to ask to use the bathroom, and was afraid to help himself to food out of the refrigerator, and he always felt like he was a guest in someone else’s house, always careful of what he said and did, and itching under his skin because he couldn’t just be him. He doesn’t get any of that here. The McCalls’ house is comfortable. It feels like it could be a home. He’s not treated like a guest here. He’s treated like he fits.

He misses his dad.

He misses the dog.

He cries himself to sleep more than once, but it’s okay. It’s grief. It’s not helplessness. His tears are cathartic, not desperate.

He has a pile of clothes that Scott has given him. It’s mostly stuff that Scott is growing out of. Stiles is skinny enough thanks to living on the streets that he fits them. He’s a little taller than Scott so the jeans aren’t quite the right length, but Stiles doesn’t care. Who’s he got to impress anyway?

He does a few chores around the house while Melissa is working and Scott is at school. He wonders how long it will be until it feels like the walls are closing in on him. A while yet, probably. The house is warm and safe. During the day he researches his dad’s case, and wonders if it will raise any red flags anywhere if he tries to order a copy of the transcripts online. Then he figures they’re not really what he needs anyway. He needs the notes from the initial investigation, not the prosecutor’s polished presentation. For that, he needs Rafa McCall. And for Rafa McCall to even think of giving them to him, he needs evidence.

He takes one of Scott’s unused school notebooks and makes a list of what he already knows. Which isn’t much apart from Kate Argent’s name, her brother’s address, G. Argent’s address—are they even related?—and how she shot his dog.

He thinks back to that, trying to divorce himself from the impending panic.

“Hello again, Derek. You don’t look so good.”

Except Stiles’s name isn’t Derek, and as far as he remembers he’s never met Kate Argent before in his life.

Derek.

The name snags in the threads of his memory like a hook, but Stiles can’t quite tug the memory free. He pushes it aside for now.

Stiles makes himself a cup of coffee—the caffeine helps settle the more annoying symptoms of his ADD—and takes it into the living room. He sits down on the couch and reaches for his notebook.

Scott’s laptop is open. Stiles was searching the Herald earlier. The elusive mountain lion still hasn’t been caught.

Stiles taps his pen against his chin, and thinks of Kate Argent again, and the exchange she had with Allison’s dad outside his house a few nights ago.

“I told Dad I’d check and see if you’d had any luck bringing down the alpha. Clearly you haven’t.”

Alpha. What is the alpha? First letter of the Greek alphabet. Term co-opted by asshole meninist PUAs. An episode from season six of The X-Files. And, in hunting terms, the foremost animal in a pack, right? Except that mountain lions aren’t pack animals. So what exactly is Chris Argent hunting?

Stiles sips his coffee.

What the hell is going on out there in the Preserve? Chris Argent is hunting something, and Scott got bitten by something, and all of it, every fucking thing, comes right back to those blackened ruins in the clearing, doesn’t it? Everything comes back to the Hale fire.

Maybe Stiles has been coming at this the wrong way.

Maybe he doesn’t need to prove Kate Argent framed his dad.

Maybe he needs to prove she had something to do with the Hale fire.

***

  Stiles likes helping Scott with his homework. He’s missed school. Not the other students or the teachers or whatever, but he’s missing learning. Stiles has always been wired a little differently than a lot of kids. Scott is basically failing Biology, and even though it’s been months since Stiles cracked open a textbook he falls easily back into the rhythm of studying.

“All I know is the mitochondria is the powerhouse of the cell!” Scott says. “And I learned that from a meme!”

He looks so miserable that Stiles can’t help laughing at him. “It’s okay, Scotty. We’ll make sure you pass!”

“Thanks, dude. I need all the help I can get.”

Stiles chews his bottom lip for a moment. “Are you still hanging with Allison?”

“Yeah.” Scott flushes. “It really sucks that I can’t tell her about you, you know? She said that she keeps driving around town hoping she’ll spot you somewhere.”

Stiles’s breath catches. He tries to smile. “Hopefully not to hand me over to her aunt the cop, right?”

“No.” Scott holds his gaze. “Stiles, she says she hasn’t said anything to her aunt about even knowing you. I believe her.”

“Kate Argent set my dad up,” Stiles says. “Or at least helped whoever did.”

“What?” Scott’s jaw drops. “Seriously?”

“I don’t have any proof,” Stiles says. “But I heard her on the phone to my dad, warning him to drop the investigation into the Hale fire. So I’m guessing that she had something to do with the fire as well.”

“But that was an accident…” Scott trails off. “Wasn’t it?”

“My dad didn’t think so.” Stiles twists his hands together. The knot of anxiety in his gut is growing larger.

“Holy shit.” Scott’s gaze grows distant. “Cora Hale was the year above me in elementary school.”

“I didn’t know them,” Stiles says. “I went to Stuart, not Beacon Hills.”

“Ooh,” Scott teases. “A private school kid! Very swanky!”

“My mom taught there.” He looks down at the open Biology textbook. “We paid reduced fees. It was a Montessori school, which turned out to be a good fit for a kid with ADD plus zero social skills.” 

When he looks up again, Scott shows him an encouraging smile.

“Anyway.” Stiles closes the textbook. “I never met the Hales.”

“Cora was kind of scary,” Scott says. “I heard they never found her body.”

Just another thing that never added up about the Hale fire. Why would the Hales hide in the basement after a gas line explosion? And the fire investigator had said that the fire burned at such a high temperature that there was simply nothing to find of some of the bodies. Cora had never been found. Neither had one of the adults. And another one of the kids too. The teenage boy. The brother.

Derek.

Derek.

Stiles scrambles for Scott’s laptop.

Derek Hale. Sixteen years old.

Holy shit.

Stiles finds a picture online of a guy in a Beacon Hills High basketball uniform. A guy who looks absolutely nothing like Stiles.

“Hello again, Derek. You don’t look so good.”

Kate Argent must be crazy, or that’s her guilty conscience speaking.

He wonders, when she has people over, if she can hear a telltale heart beating from under the floorboards.

If she does, it serves her right.

 ***

 They order pizza because it helps with homework. That’s a scientific fact. They eat the pizza in front of the TV, which doesn’t help at all with homework.

“So you think Allison’s aunt had something to do with the Hales?” Scott asks.

“Yeah.” Stiles picks off a piece of pepperoni and eats it. “That’s the only thing that makes sense.”

“We should really tell my mom,” Scott says. “And my dad.”

“Not without proof! If we tell your dad, then he’s obligated to do something about me being a missing person. And, you know, wanted by the police.”

Scott sumps back against the couch. “I can’t believe she shot your dog.”

Stiles feels the customary low burn of anger in his gut flare for a moment.

“Sucks, dude.”

Yeah. It really, really does. 

 ***

 They talk for a while about whether or not to tell Allison what’s going on. If her aunt has links to the Hale fire, than surely Allison is in the best place to try and discover some proof of that? Scott is sure that she can be trusted. Stiles isn’t willing to risk his freedom on that. Scott agrees that it’s Stiles’s call.

Stiles goes to bed just before midnight. He curls up under his comforter and thinks of all the times he sat in the alley with the dog.

Entropy.

Decay.

He has to act.

At the same time, he’s afraid. Everything is already so precarious that he’s terrified to make any move at all.

He tosses and turns for a while. He maybe dozes.

The basement has windows set high in the walls, at ground-level outside. The moon is a half-moon tonight, but bright enough that faint light filters through the windows. It fills the basement with a gentle glow.

Melissa says that if Stiles is allowed to stay, he can have the room next to Scott’s. But for now he shares the basement with the washing machine and dryer, and a shelf full of old board games, Christmas decorations, and assorted junk. He doesn’t mind that everything smells like fabric softener.

Stiles doesn’t think he’s asleep when the basement door opens, but he seems to jerk awake all the same.

“Stiles?” Scott whispers in the darkness. “Are you awake?”

“Yeah,” Stiles whispers back.

Scott’s footsteps creak down the steps.

Stiles sits up. Scott stands in front of the sofa bed. He’s shifting his weight from foot to foot, and even in the dim light he looks pale and wide-eyed.

“What’s wrong?” Stiles asks.

“Can you hear that?” Scott shakes his head like a dog after a bath under the hose.

Stiles listens in the silence for a moment. “Hear what?”

Scott wrinkles his nose, and tilts his head. “Howling?”

Stiles listens again. “Dude, I can’t hear anything.”

“It woke me up.” Scott’s breath is coming in short panicked gasps.

Stiles remembers Melissa checking with him before she went to work that he knew where his inhaler was. “Do you need your inhaler?”

“N-no.” The question seems to distract him from his rising anxiety. He sucks in a deep, uninhibited breath. “No, I think I’m okay.” Then his forehead wrinkles. “How am I okay?”

“Lets…let’s go up stairs and get your inhaler, okay?”

Scott nods. “I think there’s something wrong with me. Really wrong.”

“There’s nothing wrong,” Stiles tells him.

Scott’s huffs out a laugh that sounds as though it’s bordering hysteria. “I can hear you lying!”

Stiles puts his hand over his fast-thumping heart. “That sounds really impossible, Scott.”

“I know.” Scott drags his fingers through his hair. “I know it does.” He freezes suddenly, and turns to stare up at one of the windows.

Stiles follows his gaze.

A shadow passes in front of the window.

“Did you—” he whispers.

Did you see that?

But the words don’t come.

Because when Stiles turns his head to look at Scott again, Scott’s eyes are glowing gold.

Sleep paralysis.

Imagination.

Frontotemporal dementia.

A nightmare.

Except Stiles knows in the pit of his stomach that whatever is happening now is a hundred times more terrifying than any nightmare, because he knows it’s real.

From outside, a howl tears through the night. It’s loud enough and close enough that Stiles feels the echo of it reverberating through his bones. The sound is big enough to swallow the world, and Stiles knows instinctively that he’s powerless in the face of this, whatever this is.

And then it’s gone again.

The shadow passes in front of the window.

Scott’s eyes are no longer glowing.

“It’s gone,” Scott whispers. “Holy shit. What was that?”

And Stiles stares back at him and thinks: What are you, Scotty?

[gabrielcollignon]

Highlights and audio from Zuckerberg’s emotional Q&A on scandals

Highlights and audio from Zuckerberg’s emotional Q&A on scandals

“This is going to be a never-ending battle” said Mark Zuckerberg . He just gave the most candid look yet into his thoughts about Cambridge Analytica, data privacy, and Facebook’s sweeping developer platform changes today during a conference call with reporters. Sounding alternately vulnerable about his past negligence and confident about Facebook’s strategy going forward, Zuckerberg took nearly an hour of tough questions.

You can read a transcript here and listen to a recording of the call below:



The CEO started the call by giving his condolences to those affected by the shooting at YouTube yesterday. He then delivered this mea culpa on privacy:

We’re an idealistic and optimistic company . . . but it’s clear now that we didn’t do enough. We didn’t focus enough on preventing abuse and thinking through how people could use these tools to do harm as well . . . We didn’t take a broad enough view of what our responsibility is and that was a huge mistake. That was my mistake.

It’s not enough to just connect people. We have to make sure those connections are positive and that they’re bringing people together.  It’s not enough just to give people a voice, we have to make sure that people are not using that voice to hurt people or spread misinformation. And it’s not enough to give people tools to sign into apps, we have to make sure that all those developers protect people’s information too.

It’s not enough to have rules requiring that they protect the information. It’s not enough to believe them when they’re telling us they’re protecting information. We actually have to ensure that everyone in our ecosystem protects people’s information.”

This is Zuckerberg’s strongest statement yet about his and Facebook’s failure to anticipate worst-case scenarios, which has led to a string of scandals that are now decimating the company’s morale. Spelling out how policy means nothing without enforcement, and pairing that with a massive reduction in how much data app developers can request from users makes it seem like Facebook is ready to turn over a new leaf.

Here are the highlights from the rest of the call:

On Zuckerberg calling fake news’ influence “crazy”: “I clearly made a mistake by just dismissing fake news as crazy — as having an impact . . . it was too flippant. I never should have referred to it as crazy.

Facebook and the endless string of worst-case scenarios

On deleting Russian trolls: Not only did Facebook delete 135 Facebook and Instagram accounts belonging to Russian government-connected election interference troll farm the Internet Research Agency, as Facebook announced yesterday. Zuckerberg said Facebook removed “a Russian news organization that we determined was controlled and operated by the IRA”.

On the 87 million number: Regarding today’s disclosure that up to 87 million people had their data improperly access by Cambridge Analytica, “it very well could be less but we wanted to put out the maximum that we felt it could be as soon as we had that analysis.” Zuckerberg also referred to The New York Times’ report, noting that “We never put out the 50 million number, that was other parties.”

Facebook admits Cambridge Analytica hijacked data on up to 87M users

On users having their public info scraped: Facebook announced this morning that “we believe most people on Facebook could have had their public profile scraped” via its search by phone number or email address feature and account recovery system. Scammers abused these to punch in one piece of info and then pair it to someone’s name and photo . Zuckerberg said search features are useful in languages where it’s hard to type or a lot of people have the same names. But “the methods of react limiting this weren’t able to prevent malicious actors who cycled through hundreds of thousands of IP addresses and did a relatively small number of queries for each one, so given that and what we know to day it just makes sense to shut that down.”

On when Facebook learned about the scraping and why it didn’t inform the public sooner:  “We looked into this and understood it more over the last few days as part of the audit of our overall system”, Zuckerberg declining to specify when Facebook first identified the issue. [Update: Facebook later specified that the sophisticated scraping had been picked up in the past few weeks during the audit, recently confirmed, and that the company disclosed the situation as soon as it had details ready.]

On implementing GDPR worldwide: Zuckerberg refuted a Reuters story from yesterday saying that Facebook wouldn’t bring GDPR privacy protections to the U.S. and elsewhere. Instead he says, “we’re going to make all the same controls and settings available everywhere, not just in Europe.”

Zuckerberg says Facebook will offer GDPR privacy controls everywhere

On if board has discussed him stepping down as chairman: “Not that I’m aware of” Zuckerberg said happily.

On if he still thinks he’s the best person to run Facebook: “Yes. Life is about learning from the mistakes and figuring out what you need to do to move forward . . . I think what people should evaluate us on is learning from our mistakes . . .and if we’re building things people like and that make their lives better . . . there are billions of people who love the products we’re building.”

On the Boz memo and prioritizing business over safety: “The things that makes our product challenging to manage and operate are not the tradeoffs between people and the business. I actually think those are quite easy because over the long-term, the business will be better if you serve people. I think it would be near-sighted to focus on short-term revenue over people, and I don’t think we’re that short-sighted. All the hard decisions we have to make are tradeoffs between people. Different people who use Facebook have different needs. Some people want to share political speech that they think is valid, and other people feel like it’s hate speech . . . we don’t always get them right.”

The real threat to Facebook is the Kool-Aid turning sour

On whether Facebook can audit all app developers: “We’re not going to be able to go out and necessarily find every bad use of data” Zuckerberg said, but confidently said “I actually do think we’re going to be be able to cover a large amount of that activity.

On whether Facebook will sue Cambridge Analytica: “We have stood down temporarily to let the [UK government] do their investigation and their audit. Once that’s done we’ll resume ours … and ultimately to make sure none of the data persists or is being used improperly. And at that point if it makes sense we will take legal action if we need to do that to get people’s information.”

Cambridge Analytica denies accessing data on 87M Facebook users…claims 30M

On how Facebook will measure its impact on fixing privacy: Zuckerberg wants to be able to measure “the prevalence of different categories of bad content like fake news, hate speech, bullying, terrorism. . . That’s going to end up being the way we should be held accountable and measured by the public . . .  My hope is that over time the playbook and scorecard we put out will also be followed by other internet platforms so that way there can be a standard measure across the industry.”

On whether Facebook should try to earn less money by using less data for targeting “People tell us if they’re going to see ads they want the ads to be good . . . that the ads are actually relevant to what they care about . . On the one hand people want relevant experiences, and on the other hand I do think there’s some discomfort with how data is used in systems like ads. But I think the feedback is overwhelmingly on the side of wanting a better experience. Maybe it’s 95-5.”

Facebook rewrites Terms of Service, clarifying device data collection

On whether #DeleteFacebook has had an impact on usage or ad revenue: “I don’t think there’s been any meaningful impact that we’ve observed…but it’s not good.”

On the timeline for fixing data privacy: “This is going to be a never-ending battle. You never fully solve security. It’s an arms race” Zuckerberg said early in the call. Then to close Q&A, he said “I think this is a multi-year effort. My hope is that by the end of this year we’ll have turned the corner on a lot of these issues and that people will see that things are getting a lot better.”

Overall, this was the moment of humility, candor, and contrition Facebook desperately needed. Users, developers, regulators, and the company’s own employees have felt in the dark this last month, but Zuckerberg did his best to lay out a clear path forward for Facebook. His willingness to endure this question was admirable, even if he deserved the grilling.

The company’s problems won’t disappear, and its past transgressions can’t be apologized away. But Facebook and its leader have finally matured past the incredulous dismissals and paralysis that characterized its response to past scandals. It’s ready to get to work.

[ralphmorgan-blog1]

How I Got Sent To Rehab For Being Too Gay

Flickr / rabble

I grew up as a sassy little boy in Arkansas. My parents separated when I was three or four years old and had an ongoing custody battle for me and my two older sisters until my seventh birthday. I was raised by my sisters, who had to grow up far beyond their years at such a young age. While they were raising me, my parents would use us as pawns in their game against one another. Wed be carted from one parent to the other every other weekend, despite our tears, screaming, and demands for all this to stop. It wasnt our choice; the court had ordered it.

Ive always known that I was gay. In fourth grade I told my best friend that I was in fact a bio-sexual. Yes, I said bio-sexual, and I remember explaining to him that that meant that I liked both boys and girls. He looked at me for a moment, as if planning his next move, and he promptly said that he didnt want to play with me that day. I went home, and the next day I told him that Id just been joking. Though he accepted my excuse, he became my enemy when he rode his bicycle down the street, called out my name, and then spat in my face. Rage filled me as I stomped down the pavement after his bicycle, grabbing at his backpack in anger. It was then that I realized that Arkansas was not the best place in the world for me. I had to get out.

It wasnt until I was 14 years old, after I had read Harry Potter and done copious amounts of research, that I decided that I wanted to go to boarding school. My mother was against these sorts of ideas, coming up with all manner of excuses, including telling me that I was going to die and that Id never see her again. My father, on the other hand, loved this idea, because the only way it could be properly executed was if he had custody of me, a thing he had been seeking so desperately for many years. Years later, I question his motives. Why would he want custody of his son when he was just going to send him off to boarding school? Why would he want kids if he wasn’t going to raise them? But I wanted to go to boarding school, so at the time I didnt care. For the first time, I thought I was finally free.

My freshman year of high school, I attended Stevenson School, a private, co-ed boarding school located in Pebble Beach, Calif. This was an absolute dream. I had finally found a place where I could be myself. I was gay, from Arkansas, and now living in one of the most open-minded states in the nation. By the time Christmas rolled around, I had completely come out of the closet, with minimal resistance from my peers. For the first time in my life, I felt like I had truly found a place that I could call home without the fear or anxiety that my parents caused me.

Spring break arrived, and I traveled back to Arkansas to visit my family. One day my father and stepmother sat me down in the study, a routine they often engaged in when they wanted to catch us children off-guard about a problem that they had with us. This is something that I like to call the sneak attack, where they would gaslight the situation.

My stepmother began. Back at Christmas, your sister found your journal and was shocked by something that you wrote, she told me. We know youre questioning your sexuality, but what do you have to say about that?

I looked from my father to my stepmother and knew my life was about to change. My response: Well, Im gay.

Thats when the frowns began, and I dont think Ive seen my parents genuinely smile at me since. Their questions came at me like bullets: What do you think about the Bible? Dont you want kids? Youre backing yourself into a corner; why dont you wait to decide to be gay when youre 25? I’m far past 25 now and I am most definitely gay.

That summer my father forced me to work as a maintenance man. I had the pleasure of working alongside some of the most ignorant, grotesque men. These middle-aged men would spit homophobic slurs and make sexually suggestive comments about my sisters, and when I used their restroom, I was forced to stare at pictures of naked women that they had posted on the wall. As I endured my own personal hell, I came to the conclusion that my father was somehow trying to butch me up. It was as if he thought that if I spent enough time doing manual labor, listening to crude humor, and keeping away from the arts, the gay would eventually just wash away. It didnt work. What worked was that that I learned patience, perseverance, and the value of staying true to myself. I also learned how to fix a sprinkler system. I chronicled all those days in my LiveJournal that summer. Finally it was time to go back to my boarding school.

My first week back at school, my father and stepmother came to pick me up to send me to rehab for being too gay. I was sitting in biology class when my advisor came to pull me out of class. I asked her if I was in trouble, and she assured me, Of course not. On our way to the admissions building, where her office was located, she casually asked me what Id done over the summer, how my siblings were, and how my parents had been taking my coming out of the closet. I told her that my summer had been hell, that my siblings were grea,t and that my parents werent really handling my coming out very well. As we walked into the admissions building, I could see two men sitting on the couch eyeing me suspiciously (I later found out that they were narcotics officers who had been hired to restrain me and escort me if I tried to escape), as well as my advisors husband and the dean of students. Everyone was just staring at me with the saddest look in their eyes. My advisor then walked me to the door, and I will never forget what she said to me: Im so sorry about whats about to happen. Just know that Tom and I love you. And everyone here at Stevenson does, too. Your parents are here, and theyre taking you away. She then opened the door, and sitting there were my father and stepmother.

My parents told me that theyd hired someone to go through our home computer. Theyd found my LiveJournal, and they were shocked to discover that not only was I gay but I was in fact super-gay. My stepmother looked me in the face and said, You need to butch it up. My father said that theyd also found a profile I had created for myself on a support site for young gay teens. In my biography section, I had said something to the effect of, Since there arent a lot of people in this area, I decided to include myself in the San Francisco area. For this they accused me of soliciting sex online. The wording they used, soliciting sex, made me feel like a prostitute. Additionally, theyd found transcripts of AOL instant messages in which Id discussed with a friend how I would eventually come out of the closet to my younger siblings, who were merely hypothetical at the time. (My stepmother was going through in-vitro fertilization.) Of course, they accused me of wanting to turn my hypothetical siblings gay. I do have younger brothers now, identical twinsbut I’m unaware of what they know about me. I just hope that our parents hate and closed-mindedness didn’t seep into them.

At that point my parents escorted me out of the admissions building, the two narcotics officers holding me by the arms as they led me toward a car. I didnt know why I was being escorted by the two officers; I would later find out that my parents believed that I was on drugs. My peers were watching me as I took the slowest, most humiliating walk of my life. Those two burly men placed me in the car and forced their arms against my shoulders on each side of me so that I was incapable of moving. I felt like a criminal. Then my parents put me on a private plane and sent me to Timberlawn Mental Health System in Dallas, Texas.

As I was admitted into the mental institution, I was visibly upset. Of course I looked crazy, in a Claire-Danes-in- kind of way. I was being put away against my will for being gay, not to mention in a drug and behavioral facility that focused on kids with eating disorders, drug problems, and suicidal tendencies. I didnt belong there. I was stripped of my shoelaces so that I couldnt kill myself with them. I was tested for drugs (it came out negative), given a full-body cavity search (completely clean), and started on a dose of Zoloft that rendered me incapable of feeling any type of emotion. Talk about completely losing every shred of privacy and dignity in a matter of 24 hours. I was a zombie. I was stuck. I was gay and couldnt get out of there.

The kids that I dealt with while in rehab werent the same as me. There was a girl who had tried to cut her fingers off with childs scissors in order to kill herself. There was another girl who had tried to kill herself by wrapping shoelaces around her throat; she was forced to sleep on a mattress on the lobby floor so that the nurses could keep an eye on her at all times. I was the only kid in the unit who was allowed to go to sleep at night with his or her door closed. Several times staff members asked me why I was there, telling me that they thought I seemed pretty level-headed for a teenager. I told them that I was gay and that my parents werent ready to accept it. I was a minor, though, and there was no way of controlling my own destiny when it came to getting out of there. Luckily, I was discharged on my fourth day. I called my parents, thinking that theyd be happy for me and would return me to my boarding school. I was wrong. They were too busy to pick me up, and I was forced to stay there for a full week.

The next facility I was admitted to was Meridell Achievement Center, located outside Austin, Texas. This was a longer-term stay. An alternative program would have been something like Outward Bounds Intercept program, which takes troubled youth on camping adventures in order to teach self-sufficiency and survival skills. I like to describe the differences between these types of programs in MTV terms: Meridell Achievement Center is like The Real World, with youth living in the confines of a safe, structured environment, often fighting (in group therapy in our case), whereas Outward Bounds Intercept program is more like Road Rules, with a group of individuals forced to work together on adventurous outdoor tasks.

I actually enjoyed Meridell Achievement Center, in a Stockholm Syndrome sort of way, because although I was there against my will, the staff assured me that they werent going to try to turn me straight. They asked me what sort of treatment I wanted instead. So I decided that instead of becoming a straight man, I would become more assertive. Over the month and a half that I was at Meridell Achievement Center, we would chronicle our treatment via journaling and a group session called Goals and Feelings. This is where we would sit around in a circle and discuss what our goals and feelings were for the day. This was an extremely cathartic experience. I read the dictionary for fun and worked on my vocabulary.

Eventually my parents began to call and ask me how I was doing in my treatment. They were always vague about why I was there and what I needed to do in order to get out of there. They just kept telling me, You know what you have to do. Work on your treatment. Whatever that meant. After Id been there for a month and a half, they would call and ask, So when do you think youre going to get better? My response was that there wasnt anything wrong with me. Because the facility was so expensive, they once again decided to send me to another facility, for a much longer stay.

I arrived in Sutton, Vt., to attend the King George School upon the first snowfall of the year. If there is a hell, Im convinced that its actually cold and in Vermont. KGS was somewhere between a boarding school and a rehab facility. It was kind of like a prison for shady kids. I was essentially stuck there until I was 18 years old and allowed to discharge myself. Though Im still friends with some of the kids I met there, I was surrounded by misfits. It was horrible. I had a roommate who defecated on the floor, forcing us all to evacuate the dorm for health code reasons. I had another roommate who poked my eye with his penis while I tried to sleep. There was a girl who decided to eat my puzzle pieces so that I wouldnt be able to complete it. These kids were far more troubled than I was as a hormonal gay boy. During my first four months there I didnt receive any kind of psychiatric treatment whatsoever, and then the appointed psychiatrist declared me completely stable and normal. He even told me that I never deserved to be there in the first place. But how to get out?

I remember during Christmas, my parents and my sister came to visit me. They took me off campus to stay at the Wildflower Inn just outside of town. We were having dinner one night and all having a glass of Chardonnay, which only furthers my point of the absurdity of me being in rehab in the first place. The candlelight was dancing across our red faces when my stepmom blurted out that I was an accident, meaning I wasn’t a planned pregnancy between my father and mother. When I asked my father if this were true and if I were a last ditch-effort to save his marriage with my mother, he solemnly answered, Yes.

Finally, after 279 days of rehab, I was released back into the wild. As it turned out, the person who convinced my parents to let me return to Stevenson School was the very woman who had helped my stepmother through her first divorce back in the 1990s. That must have been one hell of a mental breakdown, because that was my ticket back to the place that I loved, the place that had accepted me unconditionally, the place that had made me the strong-willed, no-holds-barred, wonderful gay man that I am today.

As for my relationship with my parents today, Ill tell you this. I called my father the other day and left him a voicemail. I had left him a voicemail every day all summer long, begging for help financially because I don’t know when I’m going to eat next or let alone be able to pay my bills or rent. He hadn’t answered or returned a single phone call. I finally called and asked him if he wanted to have a relationship with me at all. He called me back and began to list all the ways that I had manipulated him over the summer in trying to receive help. Mind you, I suffer from and seek help for major depression and PTSD from childhood and adolescent abuse caused by this man. I am also a recovered alcoholic and have a little over two years of sobriety. By no means am I trying to manipulate the situation, but he instead gaslights the situation and backs me into a corner to make me feel that I had. I let him know that I felt the same about him with this situation on the phone. He did say he wanted to have a relationship with me in the end, but based on his actions and words, he doesn’t. He has five children and he could care less about any of them. Why have kids if you aren’t going to be a father?

In terms of my recovery, I drank a lot because of my memories of my childhood and the experiences I had while in rehab. I have explored in trauma therapy one in particular that had me at the bar almost every night staring into the mirror ahead of me sipping on whiskey, replaying the events from childhood. At the age of three, in his truck, propped up against the steering wheel, the pleas to, Come on, and Quick. That’s the man who sent me to rehab for being too gay. He’s a hypocrite. He sickens me. He’s a monster. And I might as well be done with him for good.

I never got the chance to come out of the closet on my own terms, so I would like to take this opportunity to let everyone know, Looks like I relapsed, because Im still gay.

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