#yes you are smart and precocious but you still should not be saying that especially to people who are not your friends

[feverinfeveroutfic]

chapter thirty-seven: december thirty-first

Over Thanksgiving and over Christmas, Sam spent the days in her apartment alone: Ruben and Esmé had put a great deal of money into repainting the house and thus she couldn't fly out to visit them, and they couldn't do the same for her, either. She vowed to fly out for a visit at least before the school year was over, but at that point, she wished for some solitude. Time away from everything before she faced the world again; at least some time alone before her twenty second birthday. In the meantime, another year about to end and Sam couldn't help but feel that Cliff was being left behind in late September. All things had gone away and yet she still wished for his presence next to her, and yet she still wished for time alone, especially after such a loaded schedule for that fall term.

Christmas Eve alone, but Aurora and Belinda both had offered to bring her over for at least the next day.

“I at least wanna get you something,” Belinda had told her over the phone.

“Of course,” Sam assured her, “I just wanna spend some time alone.”

“You gonna be alright?” Sam thought back to when Belinda made that joke to her, and even though it was water under the bridge at that point, she knew she wanted to make it up to her.

“Yeah. Positive.”

Aurora had gone back out to San Diego to visit her parents for a whole week, and thus Emile was alone for Christmas himself, as far as Sam knew anyways. She wondered what was happening in between them, especially given Aurora never really spoke about it that much to her. But there was more to Belinda that she needed to know about: she only knew her through their classes. Maybe there was something more to her than she had originally believed: maybe there was more to her than meets the eye.

“Bel, I'm going out to Ithaca for New Year's,” she told her.

“Oh?”

“Y-You wanna come?” Sam offered with bit of a stammer.

“Um, sure? I gotta go upstate around then anyway. What's in Ithaca?”

“I was invited to sit in for a recording session for—that band Legacy. You know those guys, Legacy?”

“Vaguely, yes? I remember Marla talking about them a few times before but I can't remember if I actually met them, though.”

“But yeah, I was invited to sit in with them while they record for their very first album.”

“Oh, cool!”

“I don't—really want to go alone, though. I want to spend the holidays alone but I don't want to go to this alone, though. Aurora's out in San Diego right now—”

“And Marla and Charlie are down here in Hell's Kitchen with her parents,” Belinda added.

“—I'm the assistant to Aurora if anyone asks.”

“What about me?”

“I'll think of something for you,” she vowed. “If anyone asks, I'll say that you're a friend of mine and you'll keep it confidential. I mean, I already have told you about it somewhat. I might as well take you with and ask you to keep it under wraps.”

“I won't tell a soul,” Belinda promised. There was a voice in the background, and she hesitated. “I gotta go, Sam. Merry Christmas.”

“Merry Christmas, Bel,” she echoed her, “I'll be going out there on New Year's Eve.”

“I'll see you then!” Belinda vowed. “You live in the Bronx, right?”

“Right up on the northern side of the Bronx—two floors upstairs from Frankie.”

“Oh, I know exactly where that is! I'll see you then. Merry Christmas, Sam.”

“Merry Christmas, Bel.”

They hung up at the same time and Sam ran her fingers through her dark hair. It was her first Christmas alone, and before then it was her first Thanksgiving alone, and yet she wanted it all to herself.

She had posted up a cactus on her coffee table and put a little glittered silver star in the soil, right where it pointed out to the rest of the room. Indeed, when she headed back to her bedroom, and turned off the overhead light, the silver sparkled in the low light. It followed her all the way into her bedroom, and when she lay down in her bed to go to sleep, the glittered light shone through the darkness outside of her room.

Sam closed her eyes and she thought about that mysterious man again with the streak in his hair, and he was the last thing on her mind before she fell asleep. No sooner had she fallen asleep when she woke up that Christmas morning. Christmas morning without anyone around her, but she had wished for it. Some time alone with her journal and her art before she went out to Ithaca with Belinda and Legacy.

Joey still had that canvas in the back seat of his car, or maybe he took it out and stashed it away somewhere in that apartment. She thought about Dan and his record player: she still had yet to play her copy of Spreading the Disease. She had to at the very least listen to it before they began work on their new album, whenever that would come about. As far as she knew, they were to make a new one once they returned home from the tour. But the question that rang through her mind until New Year's Eve itself was that of when.

When were Anthrax to head on into the studio for a new record on their part.

On that cold, snowy day, Belinda showed up to the curb in her little black car: she herself was wrapped up in a heavy black overcoat, and a fitted bright green sweatshirt. Her snake pendant twinkled under the bright white glare of the snow. Sam climbed into the passenger seat next to her, also in her black overcoat, and with those hockey gloves Joey had given her.

“So do you know the way?” Belinda asked her as they got rolling forth on the street.

“I sure do—I went there before last month with Eric and Greg. It's like—tucked away in the trees on one side of town.”

Belinda nodded and then she leaned back in the leopard print driver's seat with both hands on the wheel. Sam nestled down in the warmth of the seat next to her and tucked her hands into her pockets.

It was at that point Belinda started to feel more of a friend to her, as they wound their way through the trees and into the cold and barren upstate region. A blanket of fresh fallen snow covered everything, but she didn't seem too stressed about driving through that strip of bare dark road in that little car. The snow followed them all the way up to the Finger Lakes region, the dark waters of which appeared colder and blacker with the fresh new snow.

Within time, they reached Ithaca and Sam guided Belinda to that studio nestled back in the woods on the other side of town. Legacy's van was already posted up there outside the front ramp and the doorway, and Sam knew they had already made their way inside of there.

Eric bowed out of that door and he hesitated when he saw the car. Sam opened the front door and poked her head out to the frigid cold: he nodded at the sight of her.

“Oh, hey!” he called out to her, and he turned back to the doorway. “Sam's here—”

Belinda climbed out of the car next.

“—and she's brought a friend with her,” he added; their boots crunched over the snow there in the driveway. Belinda gave her blonde hair a slight toss back and Eric raised his eyebrows at her.

“Eric, this is Belinda Grimes,” Sam introduced her, “good friend of Marla and is gradually a good friend of mine.”

“The beautiful Belinda,” Eric declared.

“Or Bel as I go by,” Belinda herself added.

“I didn't want to come here by myself,” Sam explained as she shivered a bit under her coat, “'cause Aurora's back out in California to visit her parents, so I asked her to come along with me. She'll keep it all under wraps, though.”

“My lips are sealed.” Belinda made a twisting gesture over her lips.

“Well, good! Uh, well, c'mon in—it's freezing out here and we're letting all the warm air out.”

Sam and Belinda followed Eric inside of that front room, a narrow sparsely carpeted bright lit space that resembled to a closet than it did a foyer of sorts. To the left stood the actual studio itself: the door to the sound proof room on the other side of the pane of glass. Louie and his smoothed dark hair inside of that room; Greg had already slung his bass over his shoulder, and Eric himself was right in front of them. Nestled back in that hallway off to the left, Sam recognized his aquiline nose and his deep set eyes, but the little pearl of gray had gone away. He had buried it under the jet black curls about the crown of his head, right under those little bangs. Or so she believed: he nudged his bangs back a little bit and there was no sign of it. The grays were gone.

“What happened to the streak?” she asked him and those deep eyes seemed to slice right through her.

“Dyed it,” Alex replied, nonplussed. “I couldn't stand looking at it for any longer.”

“I kinda liked it,” she told him, to which he shrugged his shoulders.

“Yeah, I did, too,” Belinda added, even though she hadn't really met him before.

“It made me look old, though,” he said to them with his eyebrows knitted together. Even with the streak buried under the black dye, he still looked older than he actually was, even being eighteen years old, and with a round full face and smooth skin. He continued to frown at Sam.

“Hang on, Aurora's not here with you?” he asked her in a low voice.

“She's out in California visiting her parents. She should be back—I'm not sure when she'll be back, though. Belinda here'll keep everything that happens in here a secret, though.”

“Okay, okay—besides this is our first real big thing.” Alex fixated on Sam: there was something about those deep eyes, though. Something about them that drew her in: even with that streak hidden away under the black, she found herself wanting to move in closer to him. “If any mistakes happen, you've gotta tell her.”

“That's my job,” she assured him, and he kept his gaze on her for another couple of seconds before he turned away and headed into the sound proof room. Belinda turned to her with a frightened expression on her face.

“What's wrong?” Sam asked her.

“He's so precocious it's scary,” she whispered to Sam.

“That's what I said to Lars,” she confessed to her, also in a whisper. “Lars told me he's just really intelligent is all. Being smart ages you. He's really focused, too—it's kind of chilling, I'll admit it.”

She turned her attention to Eric right behind her, huddled right over a small black table with a big white sheet of paper taped on top. She stood right next to him for a look herself: it was a full schedule of the residencies there in that studio. On New Year's Day, they were to officially begin recording under the chosen name Legacy. Her eyes wandered down the page when she spotted a familiar name in the middle of January.

“Anthrax are gonna be here, too?” She was stunned.

“Yeah.” Eric hesitated and he showed her a baffled look. “Wait a minute. They didn't tell you?”

“No?”

“Well, let's see—it's written in pencil so they must've just allotted the studio time. We're written in pen so it's confirmed that we're here—but them... it looks like their dates were just added.”

“Wow! Another round of sit ins, I suppose?”

“If you'd like. You and Aurora work with the label after all.”

“Hey, Eric,” Louie called from the doorway, and he lifted his head.

“What's up?”

“Did you happen to get a hold of Chuck? Any chance at all?”

Eric shook his head. “He's supposed to be here like any minute, Lou. That's as far as I know.”

“Well, what do you think we should do?”

“Yeah, I don't really wanna be up here for a moot point,” Alex added: even tucked away in the far corner of the room, his voice was enormous, even from behind a sheet of glass and inside of an otherwise sound proof room. It even caught Sam by surprise.

“Well,” Eric started. “We're all here with our instruments, and with Sam and her friend here. Why don't we just jam together?”

“Don't see why not,” Louie replied with a shrug of his shoulders, and Eric padded over to him. He left the door ajar for Sam and Belinda to listen in for themselves. Tucked back in the far side of the room was the drum kit: Alex had taken his seat on a stool on the far side of the room with a little cherry red guitar cradled upon his lap. His jet black hair had more of a shine to it, too, and Sam could only assume he had ran the hair dye all throughout his hair.

“Watch this,” said Eric as he picked up a black flying V guitar which had already been plugged into the amp on the floor next to him. He took out the pick from the strings and he plucked those strings. Sam thought back to when Anthrax performed for her on that first day, but the riff he played made her think if they had played at a much quicker pace than they did in that room. His black hair spread across his face as he played that hard, rapid fire riff: so fast that it sent a chill up Sam's arms.

“Holy shit,” Belinda muttered. He slowed it down by half and not once did he look up at the two girls on the other side of the glass. That sound proof room filled with such a big wall of sound. A big wall of sound made by one man: Sam wanted to pick up a pair of headphones and let them record it right there, but she decided not to, especially when Eric jerked his hand back from the frets as if he had been burned.

“—like guarding a bridge,” Greg was saying.

“Pulled it!” Eric yelped.

“Pulled it out of your pussy,” Louie joked as he picked up his drum sticks.

“Pulled it out of my pussy, right,” Eric retorted with a straight face.

“Your pussy or your ass?”

“Both.”

“Your pussy or your dick?”

“Both. I have both, so—”

Alex then looked over at Sam from clear across the room: his deep set eyes gazed back at her as if he watched her every move. Deep and steely like brand new metal under a sheet of ice. They locked eyes for a moment, but it was long enough for her to think about that piece of rice paper in the bottom of the drawer. All the mentions in front of him sent his back closer towards the wall.

Indeed, he moved his gaze to the wall right behind him: his long lanky fingers moved about the upper part of the guitar neck. His guitar wasn't plugged in but Sam could tell he was playing something hard and fast. The drums tapped on the other side of the room, and Sam turned her attention to the kit there. Louie moved the sticks about for a drum roll, and he moved a little bit on the kick drums, but the cold in the room kept him from moving a lot. He stopped, and he reached down for a massage of his ankles with one hand.

“Got a problem, Lewis?” Greg asked him.

“Ankles are kinda sore.” He lifted his hand and sat upright. He turned his attention to Sam and Belinda for a few seconds, but then he scooped up his sticks again and he tried again with the snare right in front of him. He tried it again, and he stopped again for another ankle massage.

Sam lowered her gaze to his lap and those filmy black gym shorts. He lifted up again.

“Sorry—I've got an erection right now so I can't really do much more than that,” Louie said in a single breath and with a straight face.

“Damn, Lou's hungry right now,” Greg remarked.

“A couple of girls in the next room here,” Eric pointed out with a nod of his head.

“Nah—no, wait.”

Belinda burst out laughing; Sam chuckled a little bit herself but she wondered what Alex was doing right there at the far side of the room. He kept his head down, so his freshly cut bangs accentuated that sharp brow and those deep eyes. He moved his fingers about the neck and he was so tight with it. He moved about in silence, like a ghost, a slender little black haired ghost of a boy. Being smart aged him and yet, even as he was right there on the other side of the room, he still resembled to a young boy. Barely eighteen and he struck her as completely ageless.

She folded her arms over the edge of the panel in front of her. Something about the sheen on his black hair made her think of those ink drawings. Even though his guitar wasn't plugged in, she could hear the music he cranked out for them. A gentle faint plucking against the chatter right next to her. If only she could hear what he was playing for himself, and such that he

“You girls have yet to meet the other bands in this whole grand scheme of things, though,” Eric was telling Belinda. “Metallica, Megadeth, Anthrax, and Slayer—everyone is calling them the 'Big Four' because they're kind of the first ones to go to big labels. And then you have us, plus Overkill—Danny Spitz's old band—Exodus, Zetro's new band, and Death Angel—Sam met Death Angel at Cliff's memorial.”

“Not exactly,” Sam confessed, “I saw them but they wanted more lunch than anything.”

That brought a laugh out of both Louie and Greg. “The Big Four.” The name itself made Sam chuckle, but she paid more attention to Alex on the other side of the room. He seemed to be in a world of his own compared to them.

“So all you guys behind them are kind of like the little four,” Belinda told them.

“The little four?” Eric laughed at that.

“Yeah. Metallica, Megadeth, Anthrax, and Slayer are the big four—you guys, Overkill, Exodus, and Death Angel are the little four. The tier behind them. They're the big head honchos, and you guys are like the little ones holding them up like pillars or something.”

“The tiny four,” Louie quipped.

“The small fries,” Eric added.

“The little itty bitty four,” Belinda laughed.

“The four small dicks,” Greg quipped. “And the big four are the big four dicks.”

“That's a whole lot of dicks,” Eric added. “The big four dicks are the hot ones.”

“Who says the little dicks can't be hot, though?” Sam blurted out, and they all laughed out loud at that: Alex snapped his eyes shut and bowed his head. She had no idea if he was laughing at that but then he shook his hand about. He returned to the frets as if nothing happened.

“How's our lead doing?” Eric asked Alex, who finally raised his head a bit: the bangs still hid his eyes away from view.

“I'm just making it up as I go along,” he said, “I watched a Miles Davis concert on TV a couple of months ago and ever since then, I wanted to do what he was doing there.”

“Electric era or—?”

“Oh, yeah. Well, of course.” Alex gave the ringlets on the side of his head a slight nudge so it revealed his ear and the side of his neck. Something quite graceful about him. But then Belinda turned to Sam again.

“Yeah, he's really precocious.” But Sam frowned at that. So what if he was? The boy knew what he wanted out of laugh and that was to play his guitar and add something to the world. Indeed, Sam thought about her own artistry. To make something herself.

It may have been his jet black hair but she thought of herself as she watched him there. She thought of the first time she saw him up on stage, and how he seemed to paint with his fingers, and the guitar was his canvas. This boy was an artist and his playing there on the other side of the room only doubly confirmed that for her.

Meanwhile, Louie played a few drum grooves for them and he finally overcame the pains in his ankles all the while. Greg followed his lead and lay down a bassline for him: even without Eric and Alex with their guitars, their rhythms alone were enough to prove to both Sam and Belinda that they had such strong power. Sam thought about Chuck's powerful voice, and the night she and Cliff got to see them. It had been a full year since she and Cliff saw them in San Francisco, and she could still imagine Chuck there on stage as if it had just happened.

Within time, Eric joined in with that rapid fire riff and the three of them plowed forth. Alex finally leaned to the side and plugged in his guitar. The two girls on the other side of the glass watched the four young men, four artists in their prime, begin their very first master piece.

Sam recognized the song “Over the Wall” and she attempted to sing Zetro's shrill lyrics even though she only heard the song once before in L'Amour. But Alex's insistence on improvising extended it into this long elaborate jam session. At one point, he stood to his feet and strode about the room. He progressed high and low and every so often, he stepped on one of the pedals there on the floor for a different effect.

“Turning into the Grateful Dead in here,” Louie shouted in between tight drum beats.

They were in there for another half hour, and the three of them followed Alex's lead, until Eric returned to the door with the guitar slung over his back.

“We're gonna be here a while,” he told Sam.

“And Chuck's still not here yet,” she pointed out.

“And Chuck's still not here, right! And it's not like we're recording as of yet, either. I think you girls can go out and stretch your legs for a bit. Get yourselves something to eat. We are in Ithaca, after all. Not like we're going anywhere.”

“True.”

Sam then led Belinda back outside, where the clouds broke enough to show off the pure blue sky, but not enough to warrant sunshine over Finger Lakes. The cold of the snow felt so sharp after being in that warm room for so long; it was right then Sam started to feel hungry.

“There is just shit all to say,” she remarked as she walked to the driveway first. “It all speaks for itself.”

“It really does,” Belinda followed as she rubbed her hands together. “And how exciting, too! We're seeing these bands from the ground up.”

“Well, these guys are coming from the ground up, though. Anthrax has already put out a few albums, and Stormtroopers is kind of a spin off to them—but these guys are brand new, though. We're watching them start out fresh and new. We're watching Alex start out fresh and new.”

“Kind of makes you wish we could see Anthrax from the very beginning.” They stopped outside of her car.

“Well, that's really simple,” Sam explained. “Neither of us were here—well, I wasn't. You grew up down in Hell's Kitchen with Marla, and you guys hadn't met Charlie yet. The two of you grew up thirty minutes away from him and Frankie. So seeing them advanced along a bit, we started ahead in the watch process. So seeing these guys from the very beginning, we kind of have an idea as to what the future holds for them. Or least I do—I don't know about you, Bel.”

“Yeah, I've never really sat in with a band before. Charlie and I did hang out with that guy John—John Tempesta—when Charlie first met Marla, though.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. We were in this place in Brooklyn called the Iridium together and he bought us both a drink. Kind of an interesting night, though. We thought there were creatures coming out of the walls at one point.”

“Oh, my god.” Sam chuckled at that. She peered about the driveway for any signs of life. “I think we can just walk into town. We're literally right here.”

“But we're gonna have to walk through snow, though,” Belinda pointed out.

“Nah, we won't—besides, Bel, you're from New York. You're used to the cold.”

“Yeah, down in the city. Upstate is a whole other world.”

“Well, let's at least take a walk, though. It was getting kind of stuffy in there.”

Belinda let out a long low whistle and then she nodded her head, and she followed Sam to the end of the driveway. They stood there at the edge of the pavement, and there was a small cafe, to the right of them and up the street.

“Hey, there's Joey,” Belinda pointed out, and Sam's heart skipped a few beats. Sure enough, there Joey was on the other side of the pavement: his black curls streamed down his back and over a light red and white striped knit scarf wrapped around his neck, and he wore a fitted black peacoat so he appeared thinner and lankier than before. He waved and showed them a lopsided smile, and then he peered both ways before he crossed the street. Sam turned to Belinda yet again.

“Okay,” she began in a low voice, “if he asks us where we've been or why we're up here right now, tell him we just came here for New Year's.”

“Why?” Belinda frowned at that.

“He—” Sam peered behind her to ensure that Joey was still out of earshot. “He and Alex got into a fight a while back, and he's kind of vindicative about Legacy themselves.”

“Really?” Belinda raised her eyebrows at that.

“Yeah. It was insane, Bel. He and Alex got outside and he pushed him.”

“He pushed him?” Sam set a hand on her to get to keep her voice down. “But what if he asks why we're here by the studio, though? Especially with Anthrax coming here and whatnot.”

“Shit, I forgot about that! Um, let's just tell him that we're here to check the place out. And I'll tell you more about the pushing incident later on, too—” She stopped right in her tracks just as Joey strolled up to them with his hands on the lapels.

“Hey, you!” he greeted Sam.

“Hey, Joey,” she returned the favor.

“And Belinda,” he continued, “you're Belinda, right?”

“Little Bel, that's me,” she retorted. He craned his neck to the building behind them.

“What's all this?”

“Oh, it's the—studio that you and Anthrax are recording at,” Sam replied, and each word that left her lips felt as though she was having to force herself to say it.

“Oh, yeah, I remember this place,” said Joey. “Pyramid.” He stopped and he took another look. “Who else is here?”

“Maintenance,” Belinda filled in with haste and a clearing of her throat.

“Uh, yeah,” Sam added with even more haste, “—we just came over here to check it out. We really only came up here to Ithaca for New Year's.” She rubbed her nose. “What's up with you? What're you doing?”

“I just came here to see the place myself,” he answered as he lunged forward, but Sam and Belinda stepped in front of him.

“I don't think that's a good idea, Joey,” Sam assured him.

“Yeah—the place is kind of a mess,” Belinda joined in.

“Well, I at least wanna see the front door, though. Lived and did stuff in upstate my whole life and would you believe I've never been here before? And besides, why is your car here?”

“It's a good place to park,” Belinda said at a rapid clip. “We're coming right back for it, though. It's nothing to split hairs over.”

“Okay,” Joey said, reluctant and with a befuddled look on his face.

“Um, you wanna get something to eat?” Sam offered him.

“I just ate, thank you, though.”

“Shit—well, it's pretty cold out here—don't ya wanna go into that restaurant there?”

“We can't go in there?”

“It's a mess, Joey!” Sam exclaimed. “An absolute madhouse!”

“Hey, that song was a hit!” he said with a snap of his fingers.

“What song?”

“'Madhouse'! We got asked to make a music video for it—have you seen it?”

“I haven't, no.”

“Don't think I have, either,” Belinda added.

“Oh, man, I gotta show it to you girls. I hope that restaurant does have TVs in it—I'd like to show it to you both.” He wheeled around and stood there at the curb for a second: Sam and Belinda glanced at one another. The latter widened her eyes and let out a quiet sigh; the former opened her mouth but no sound came out. Joey then led them across the dark pavement to the low restaurant there on the other side, hugged by a few evergreen trees and some scraggly barren oak trees.

He held the door for them as they made their way inside. Warm and sweet with that aroma of coffee and fresh food: he led them to the counter where he took the seat closest to the register. Sam sat down at his left while Belinda took the spot to the left of her. Her eyes were still wide with fear.

“That was close,” she mouthed, to which Sam nodded her head. Joey then turned to them once again.

“Did Cliff ever tell you his fascination with pancakes?” he asked Sam in a low voice.

“I don't think he ever did,” she confessed.

“Oh. Well—” Joey pointed to the silvery counter in front of them, and the plate of pancakes slathered in syrup and melted butter which awaited to be taken to a nearby table. “—just looking at that fat stack of pancakes right there in front of us made me think of his obsession with pancakes.” Sam chuckled at that.

She and Belinda both asked for cups of coffee, but neither of them knew what they wanted to eat. It was the first time in a long time Sam had gone some place and she had no idea as to what she wanted. The thought of Cliff obsessing over pancakes made her curious. There was so much to him that she still didn't know about.

Cried all her tears and yet she still missed him. It was almost too much to bear, especially when she thought about Alex in that room. He and Cliff were both artists in their prime. Both artists, both unknowns to her, and yet they both felt so close to her.

“Excuse me,” she finally said at one point: she could feel the firm lump coming to fruition in her throat. She ducked into the hallway around the corner to make it look as though she was headed into the bathrooms. But she lingered there outside of the ladies' room, right next to the door, and the tears made their way forth. She flashed back on the sight of Louie behind that drum kit, and the memory of the five of them in the park so as to honor Cliff: he recognized Zelda almost immediately, even in the tapestry of total darkness, and she could only wonder what was happening between them. He hit those drums rather hard: maybe seeing her there opened something in him. She had no idea.

The mention of Cliff did something to her however. She brought her hands to her face to hide the tears away from prying eyes, but she couldn't cry. No tears to be found in there.

“Sam?” Joey's upstate accent caught her ear and she lifted her head for a look at him there at the far end of the hall. The lopsided grin had given way to a look of concern on his handsome face. He strode closer to her for a better look at her.

“You okay?” he asked her in a gentle voice, to which she bowed her head and kept silent. “Are you alright?”

She still didn't answer.

“That statement was in poor taste, I know,” he said in a near whisper.

“What statement?” she asked him as she raised her gaze to him; he stood right in front of her, and he stood so close to her that she could smell the soft cologne on the side of his neck.

“The whole thing with the pancakes. I just—I know how you miss Cliff so much.”

“I do, I do—but I swear it's not you, though,” she assured him.

“Oh. I just saw you run down here and I could only guess that it was 'cause of that.”

“I just—I have my moments,” she confessed to him. “I have moments where I miss him more than anything in the world.”

She gazed up at him, right into those deep brown eyes. As brown and soft as the earth, the very earth that Cliff had returned to. They locked eyes for a few seconds, but it was enough.

“Joey—” she started.

“What?” He then paused and she pursed her lips together. Her mind went blank, but then he showed her the first bit of that grin yet again.

“Remember when you were in my place and you made that joke about kissin' me?” he recalled in a soft voice.

“How could I forget?”

“Not gonna lie—I think about doin' that.” He raised his eyebrows at her.

“Oh, yeah?”

“Absolutely. All the time.”

“So—what're you saying?”

He nibbled on his bottom lip and he dropped his gaze to her mouth.

“I didn't have someone to kiss under the mistletoe back on Christmas,” he told her in the huskiest voice she ever heard.

“I didn't, either,” she added.

“And I don't have someone to kiss when the ball drops tonight.”

“Who says we have to have a New Year's kiss, though?”

“Good point.” He paused again, and again with a nibble of his bottom lip. “Just an idea.” He nodded his head back for her to go back out to the restaurant. “Run along—I gotta use the little boys' room.” And with that, Sam bowed out in front of him and she rounded the corner: Belinda still stayed seated at the counter and with a cup of coffee in front of her. But on the far side of the room, Sam noticed the four of them clustered into a booth. She kept going towards them.

“Hey! What're you guys doing here?”

“Remember when Greg made a flippant comment about Louie being hungry?” Eric said to her as he looked up at her like a prince.

“Vaguely.”

“Well, as it turns out, the bunch of us are, too.”

“Well, Joey's here with me and Bel, so you might wanna keep things down.” She made a lowering gesture with her hands and brought her voice down a bit.

“Not a problem,” he assured her with a shake of his head. “Alex is a lover not a fighter anyways.”

“I fight when I feel like it,” Alex himself pointed out as he took a sip of ice water. Sam hoped Joey wouldn't see them there as she returned to Belinda at the counter: and even with the pancakes gone, she still couldn't shake the firm feeling from her throat. First New Year's alone and without Cliff.

[allegra-writes]

(Not so good at) Sneaking around

Peter Parker x Stark!Reader

Teen & up

Warnings: None

The Request:

Hey! So we always see the Reader and Peter sneaking around Tony and he suddenly finds out when he catches them making out or doing it and freaks out and it's like "Run Peter, run!" But c'mon!! There's no way his daughter could hide something like that from him I mean he's Tony freaking Stark! So just once I would like to see a fic where the Reader and Peter think they are being so smart and sneaky but Tony knows all along and just let's them go on because it's so much fun for him to see them running around and freaking out and just nearly giving them heart attacks every time he 'almost catches them'. Also let's be honest, he would totally ship it!

“It’s happening! This time it’s definitely happening!” Tony got in the bed whispering excitedly.

“What is, Tony?”

“SpiderStark! Y/n and Peter!”

Pepper turned around to face her husband, exasperated and refusing to have to be awake at such an ungodly hour.

“You say that at least once a week…”

“Yes, I know, but this time it really is happening!” He insisted, excitedly, “I was walking down the hallway outside y/n's bedroom and I hear them yelling at each other and…”

“How is yelling at each other conducive to them getting together?”

“Because of what they were yelling! Hear me out…”

Tony was having a pretty shitty night, the coding for his newest AI refused to cooperate but he couldn’t figure out what was wrong with it. He was missing something. He needed another pair of eyes.

Peter was out with MJ, great kid, really, he would totally be on board with that relationship if it weren’t with the fact that it was getting in the way of his OTP.

Because that’s what they were, ever since princess Shuri had explained the terminology to him, he couldn’t help to think about his own princess and his protégée like that. Because, let’s be honest, no boy was ever going to be enough for his precious girl, but the one he loved like his own? The one whose genius rivaled his own, the one who was braver than Cap himself, the one with a heart more pure than Thor's? That one came pretty fucking close.

And he wasn’t blind, he had seen the little glances they stole when they thought no one was looking, the way that “personal space” lost any meaning when it came to them, those kids were crazy about each other.

Now if only those two morons would get along with the program …

Anyway, Peter was out with MJ and Harley had gone home for the weekend. His own precocious teenager was geeking out somewhere on the tower with Loki of all people (and don’t even ask him how the bastard was still alive, Thor himself had just shrugged and welcomed him back), but he was going to have to interrupt them -such a pity - to ask her for help.

“If you’re looking for your firstborn, she just left for her bedchambers” Loki said without even raising his eyes from the book he was reading, sprawled on the sofa of the main living room.

“So early on a weekend night? You managed to bore her that much?”

Loki rose an eyebrow in obvious contempt.

“If you must know, she was visibly distressed after the spider-brat showed up. So much that so that she was of no use to any of our respective investigations so she decided to call it a night.”

“Distressed? Peter Distressed her?”

Loki scoffed,

“That little insect is not as harmless as you seem to believe…”

Tony rolled his eyes.

“Whatever, Snivellus. I’m gonna find her, she’s probably still awake.”

You were awake alright. Yours and Peter’s voices could be heard from the hallway. Frowning, Tony got closer to the room.

“… and where do you get off of telling me what to do or who to talk to?!” distressed, his ass, you sounded furious. “You are not my father, you are not my brother, you are no one!” Jeez, kid, harsh much? “You are just my friend and-!”

“That’s bullshit, y/n! That’s so much bullshit and you know it!” Tony didn’t think he had even heard Peter swear before, but he would have been the first to admit the tension between you two was bound to explode sooner or later. “The way we touch? The way you look at me? The whole way we just… are with each other, that’s not how friends are supposed to be! You wear my freaking t-shirts to bed, for God’s sake! Just admit it, baby, we haven’t been just friends in a long time.” He finished, voice full of venom.

Your dad froze outside your door. He felt the need to intervene, to put a stop to the argument before it could escalate even more and both his kids said things they would regret. But on the other hand, he had no idea what to do or how to break up that fight. Teenagers were a scary breed, especially female ones…

Especially Stark ones.

There was a loud crash against the door.

“What the Hell, y/n? You can’t just throw a vase at me! You could have hurt me!!”

His daughter’s response must have been in a lower voice because he couldn’t hear it. Tony got closer to the door trying to listen but the voices sounded muffled now, softer.

There was another dull thud on the door, as if something heavier had hit it, and then a stifled moan, and Tony left hurriedly, before hearing something he really, truly didn’t want to hear…

“… Wow”

“I know, right?” Tony sounded still amazed. Pepper, good pragmatic Pepper, wasn’t as enthusiastic.

“ And you are not bothered at all by the fact that your oldest daughter is currently making out, maybe even more, with a boy in her bedroom?” She inquired, skeptical.

“Honey they are eighteen, and they are smart. They can be a lot of things, but irresponsible is not one of them. Besides,” Tony left out a yawn “Peter is a complete gentleman.”

“It’s not him I’m worried about” Pepper muttered, but Tony’s eyes were already closed.

…

Tony Stark started to suspect Peter Parker wasn’t as much of a gentleman as previously thought a couple days later, when he caught you trying to sneak out of the med bay.

“I can’t believe you licked the alien thing” Bruce was so done as he and your father turned the corner.

“It worked! It was DNA activated!” Tony countered.

“But you didn’t know that at the time! Oh, hi y/n…”

You stood there like a deer in the headlights, cursing silently: it was just your luck to crash into them when you were almost on the clear. You had been so close, but the tell tale glow of the Starkderm -Your father’s high tech take on the transparent medical dressing, designed to aid in healing and completely camouflage wounds, making them indistinguishable from the patients skin once activated- on your neck, let you know your little mission had failed.

“Sweetie, are you ok? Did you get hurt?” Bruce’s tone was anxious and the guilt Tugged at your heart for making him worry. After all they had been through, they didn’t deserve it.

“You should let Bruce take a look at that, neck injuries are a serious matter, kid”

Had you been in a better mental state you would have noticed the amused glint in your father’s eye that belied his concern; but as it was, high on adrenaline and embarrassment, you didn’t see it.

“NO! I mean… n- no, it’s nothing, I mean -just a stiff neck.” You stammered, “That’s it, just a stiff neck. I thought maybe the analgesics in the Starkderms might help. I- I gotta go now. Bye!”

You practically ran out of the room, leaving behind a bewildered Bruce… and a clacking Tony.

“Oh my God!” your father was literally doubled up with laughter, “Did you see her face? She was so red she could’ve given the old mark II a ran for it’s money!”

“I don’t understand, the Starkderms don’t work on soft tissue sprains…”

“Oh Banner, you pure, innocent jolly green giant…” Tony wiped a tear from the corner of his eye and put a hand on his friend's shoulder -well, he tried for the shoulder, but the forearm was as high as he could reach- “It was a hickey. She was trying to cover a hickey”

Banner was even more confused,

“A hickey? But how? who..?”

Tony just raised an eyebrow.

“… No, no way!”

“Yes way.”

“Get out! Finally?”

“Yes, my friend,” Your dad patted Bruce’s (lower) back “Fucking finally!”

…

“I think your father knows”

Tony froze on his tracks right outside the kitchen as soon as he heard Peter and you talking about him.

“What? Why would you say that?” You sounded slightly alarmed, but not enough, in his opinion. Surely he was more intimidating than that, he was Tony fucking Stark after all.

“Well, you know since my aunt and I moved to the tower we have been doing our grocery shopping ourselves…”

“Yeah, I know” Tony could practically hear your eye roll, he knew you shared his opinion on the ridiculous Parker pride that meant that, despite May and Peter finally accepting to move in with the rest of the team into the new Avengers Tower, they still refused any and all financial help from Tony; never mind the fact that your father paid for everything for the other avengers.

“Well, last night after patrol I was tired and I forgot May had asked me to go to the store,” Peter sounded like he was blushing. Tony hadn't even know that was possible. “so I asked Friday, right? And then, when the groceries arrived…” Peter ended his explanation with an unintelligible mumble.

“What? I’m sorry Pete, I didn’t quite catch that last part” Your mirthful tone let your father know that Peter was blushing even harder. Tony had to stifle a laugh, he knew exactly what had been in those groceries…

“Condoms, ok?” Peter finally blurted out, “There was a box of condoms in one of the bags that I definitely didn’t asked for!”

“And you think that, what? That my father did it?” You said incredulously “They probably just mixed your order with someone else’s. Peter do you seriously think my father bought us condoms?”

“… Well, when you put it like that, it does sound a little ridiculous…”

You scoffed,

“You think? Besides,” You added, “we would know if my dad knew, he’s not exactly subtle, you know. Do I need to remind you the Carter Baizen incident?”

“The what?”

“You seriously don’t know?” You sounded beyond incredulous and we’ll into stunned territory now. “It was everywhere. My dad saw him trying to put his hand underneath my skirt once, while we were dating, and he blasted his car…”

“That was true? I thought the tabloids had made that up!”

“They didn’t. So, you see there’s no way we wouldn’t know if Tony –“

“Hey, did someone say Carter Baizen?” Your father interrupted, choosing that moment to finally walk into the kitchen and making you and Peter jump three feet apart “Because I swear, if that bastard is lurking around again…”

“Hey dad! No, ew that would be super creepy. He’s like, super old now…”

“Hello my heart.” He came next to you and kissed your head. “You better be telling the truth, because if I ever see him near you again, I will disintegrate him.” He then looked Peter dead in the eyes over your shoulder as he said, “Nobody puts their hands on my baby girl and gets to keep them”

Peter swallowed hard. Tony smirked. Oh yeah, he was still intimidating af.

…

“Friday, where’s my oldest daughter?” Tony asked certain Saturday evening, not having seen you in the whole week, thanks to the mission your team had been on.

“She’s in her bedroom on the penthouse, boss”

“Really? She’s not, you know, on the third floor, west side of the tower?”

“Negative, boss, she’s not at the Parkers’.” Friday sounded amused, “However, Peter is in her room with her.”

“Figures.” Your dad grumbled. But then an impish little smile appeared on his face: It was time to have a little fun messing with his favorite pair of jumpy teenagers.

As he neared your room, he was able to hear music, whooping, laughter and… Rihanna?

… So gonna let the rain pour,

I’ll be all you need and more…

“Sweetheart, can I come in?” Tony knocked on your door, and the laughs immediately stopped.

“Just a second!”

A lot of shuffling, the thud of something heavy hitting the floor and a few muffled curses reached his ears. A minute latter, a very flushed You opened the door.

“Hi, dad!”

“Hi, baby” He stepped past you into the room and took a look around: The bed was made (thank God) but there were a few pillows knocked off it, one of Peter’s sneakers was visible underneath the vanity and a pair of pink my little pony boxer shorts were laying on the carpet. Your dad poked them with his shoe.

“Nice shorts,” He commented casually, “I thought you had gotten over rainbow colored horses when you were six…”

“Stranger Things made them cool again” you hurried to explain, “Well, not cool cool, they’ll obviously never be cool, but like, cool amongst nerds. It’s more like a nostalgia thing… and who wants to be cool anyway, am I right? Cuz-…”

“Sweetheart, you’re rambling” Tony pointed out and you instantly shut up. “I just wanted to ask you and Peter if you wanted Italian for dinner. Where is he, by the way? Friday told me he was with you…”

“That traitor!” You murmured under your breath.

“What was that, my heart?”

“Nothing, dad” You replied, proud of how even your voice was despite of your heart trying to leap out of your body. “You just missed him, he left like two minutes ago to take a call from May. But I’m sure Italian’s great, he loves it.”

Tony wouldn’t admit it, but he was kinda proud too, you were definitely getting better at lying. As a father it was a scary thought but he knew it was a valuable skill in your shared line of work.

The only thing was, I wasn’t nearly as fun to mess with you if you didn’t fumble and stuttered your way out of the situation.

“Right, then, I’ll go tell Pepper to order while Mor and I set the table. You’re on dish washing duty tonight.”

“Sure, no problem dad.” If Tony hadn’t already known you were trying to hide something, that right there would have tip him off: You never, ever in your life had done the dishes without complaining.

Yeah, you were getting better at lying but there was still a long way to go.

As soon as your dad left, Peter got out of the ensuite, stark naked and arms full of clothes.

“Is he gone?”

“Really, Peter? Really?” You deadpanned, “first you come out here naked and then you decide to ask if my father is gone?”

God, he was so lucky he was pretty.

He chose to ignore your sarcasm.

“And he didn’t suspect anything?”

“He didn’t. Apparently My Little Pony is girly enough for these to belong to me” You snickered, holding his underwear up. He took them, blushing and mumbling something about a gag gift from Ned. Once he had them and his jeans on, he flopped down on the bed, rubbing his face with his hands.

“I knew the striptease was a bad idea!”

You laughed harder at that,

“You said you had moves! I had to see them!”

He peered at you through his fingers.

“Was I any good at it, at least?” he asked shyly but you could see the beginnings of a smile on his bitten red lips.

“Babe, you are the best Rihanna ever,” You said truthfully, “ I’m even tempted to put you on a full on French maid costume. Fishnets and everything.”

You leaned down on the bed to kiss him, but he used his super speed to flip you over so you were one your back and he the one above you.

“God, you are so weird!” He declared, but there was nothing but adoration in his eyes.

“Hey! Don’t kink shame me!” You batted half-heartedly at his chest.

The rest of your complaint was swallowed by his lips.

…

“Daddy! Daddy!” As soon as Tony put a foot inside the penthouse he got tackled by a little dark haired meteor.

“Maguna! Hello baby!” he grunted as he picked the littlest of his troublemakers up. He was getting old, and his little squirt was getting big. He started to walk the both of them towards the kitchen. “How was your day out with your big sis? You girls did something fun?”

“We did!”

Tony scowled in mock outrage,

“How dare you? I specifically forbade you two to have fun without me!” he growled to a giggling Morgan “There can be no fun if I’m not there, I told you!”

“We did! We had fun!” She confirmed delighted. She was obviously not intimidated in the slightest, and Tony was starting to resign himself to the fate of not being feared at all by his daughters.

“What did my girls do? If it wasn’t too fun, I shall allow it…”

“She and Peter took me to the Queen’s zoo!” She replied excitedly, “There were Coyotes! And there were mountain lions and sea lions! And we saw the sea lions have lunch! And then we had lunch. Oh and I got to feed a baby goat!”

“Really? You did all that? In just one day?!”

“Yes!” She confirmed, “And then y/n said she whished she could keep one of the sea lions as a pet, a little one, like a sea puppy! And I said yes, but Peter said he couldn’t let us steal a sea lion!” Morgan frowned, indignant. She looked so adorable that Tony was having a hard time trying to hide his smile.

“Did he now? The nerve on him!” He played along.

“I know! And then y/n pouted, and I made the puppy dog eyes…”

“The what now?”

Morgan sighed,

“The puppy dog eyes,” She explained, tiredly, as if she believed her father to be exceedingly slow, “It’s when I make my eyes real big and sad. Y/n taught me”

Tony rolled his eyes, unsurprised and unimpressed by that little piece of information.

“Anyway, she was pouting and I was making the puppy dog eyes, so Peter said he would be our sea lion instead. And he was making like this” Morgan started flapping her hands and barking in a rather hilarious impression of a sea lion. This time Tony couldn’t stop himself from cracking up, but far from offended, Morgan smiled, pleased with herself.

Once they reached the kitchen, he placed her down on the counter and started gathering the ingredients for a couple PB&Js while Morgan continued the retelling of her latest adventures.

“… And then, at the Aviary, I saw y/n and Peter kiss! But they told me not to tell you, cause it’s a secret…”

“They didn’t try and bribe you into keeping it?” Tony asked amused, without stopping to spread peanut butter on a slice of breath.

“Yeah, they did. They bought me ice cream and a sea lion plushie…”

Tony turned to face his daughter.

“Then why are you telling me?”

Morgan gave him a look far sinister than any seven year old should be capable of,

“Because they would only let me have two scoops…”

Tony had created a monster.

“Wow. We are so lucky you don’t know who Spider-Man is!” Tony commented, thinking just how much it might cost them for Morgan to keep a secret like that.

“But I do know Spider-Man! He’s my friend!” Morgan replied, having totally misunderstood her dad, “And whenever you are away on a mission, he’s the one that comes to check for monsters in my closet when I can’t sleep at night…”

“Of course he does” How was Tony ever supposed to hate her daughter’s boyfriend, when he was Peter Parker?

…

“Harley, what happened?” Tony demanded catching up with the boy on the hallway of the Medical Research and Treatment wing of the tower. Otherwise known as the medbay.

“Tony! It was that fucking Goblin again. He had some kind of gas he tried to douse on y/n. Peter took the hit for her.” The blond boy answered, falling into step beside Tony toward the infirmary, were Peter was being tended to by both Banner and Strange.

“I told you a thousand times, kid: That’s Mr. Stark, or boss for you. I’m your superior, show some respect, this is supposed to be a mission report.”

“Sorry, sir” Harley continued, sounding anything but, “We subdued the Red Goblin successfully and now he’s under custody of S.W.O.R.D. I believe they are presently trying to separate the symbiote from it’s host. Stature and Ironheart stayed behind to handle the clean up and I brought Spidey here.”

“Really? Y/n didn’t want to bring him in herself?”

Harley smirked,

“She knows I’m faster.”

“That I can’t argue with” Tony admitted, well aware of Harley’s disregard for safety rules in favor of speed. And the thrill of it, of course. “Do we know something about the substance that lunatic hit Peter with?”

“It was a poison, fast acting and apparently lethal on normal humans. On Pete's unusual metabolism, however, the effects are… pretty interesting.”

Tony narrowed his eyes in suspicion,

“How interesting exactly?”

Harley’s smirk intensified,

“Why don’t you see for yourself, boss?” He motioned at the door with his head and Tony’s weariness grew: if Harley found it amusing, chances were it wasn’t anything good.

“Mister Staaaaaaark!” Peter’s cheery voice slurred loudly when Tony wasn’t even halfway through the door. He turned to Harley.

“He is high?!”

Harley didn’t even tried to hide his laughter.

“As a kite!”

Tony was convinced that one this days, one of his kids was going to make him roll his eyes so hard, that they were going to get permanently stuck facing the back of his head.

“Nooo, don’t go mister Staark”

“Tony, get in here!” admonished Bruce, who was trying to push back into the stretcher, as gently as possible, the loopy teen with the super strength currently trying to make his way to his mentor.

“Woah, careful there, champ!” Tony guided a squirming Peter to lay back down, “What would y/n say if she saw you trying to escape like this?”

Tony never thought a person could make the exact same face of the heart eyes emoji. He was wrong.

“Y/n! She’s soo gorg- so gurgeu- so… she’s so pretty, and strong and braaave…” Peter gushed, “And I’m so so lucky, cuzz she’s my girl- my girlfriend… how did I get so lucky, mister Staark?” He looked at Tony as if he was just realizing who he was talking to- Which was probably exactly what was happening- and seemed suddenly petrified.

“Oh no! No mister Staark, you can’t know she’s my girlfriend or you’ll kill me! Kill meeee!!”

“Relax, kid. I’m not telling mister Stark anything.” Tony tried to calm the easily distracted boy the best way he could think of. And it worked. Kind of.

“Thank you mister Staark. You did sooo much for me! You made my suits and you took us in and- and… and y/n! You made y/n!! Did you make her in your lab too? Because she’s SOOOOOO perfect!

“Actually I did make her in my old lab,” Tony chuckled “Just not in the way you’re thinking”

“Dude! TMI!!” Harley quipped from the doorway.

“Seriously, Stark, don’t give the boy any ideas, I already walked into him and your heiress making out in the Sanctum enough times” Strange chipped in, holding up a syringe with a bright green liquid Tony assumed to be the antidote.

“What were they even doing in the Sanctum?”

“Besides making out? I’ve no idea.” Was Strange's dispassionate reply.

Peter was still spouting praise over y/n,

“She’s so niiice and sooo good and so brill- so smart!”

Strange came closer with the needle but Peter would have none of it.

“No! No needless! No pricking!” He started to struggle against Banner's hold and he truly did not want to hurt the confused kid.

“Tony, distract him!” He demanded.

“Underoos, what was that about my daughter?”

Peter’s face immediately lit up,

“She’s amazing, she smells so nice and her hair is soooo soft, like a princess!! But like, a- a badass princess… like Leia!” Peter turned suddenly solemn, “Miiister Staark, do you think she likes me? Like, like like me?”

Tony smiled,

“Well, considering she is your girlfriend, I would expect so…”

“SHE’S MY WHAT?”

Strange used the moment of distraction to pretty much stab the syringe into Peter’s thigh. He looked so betrayed that Tony had the unreasonable impulse of hitting the wizard right on his smug face, even though he knew the doctor was only doing his job. Or one of them, at least.

“This should help you expel the toxin faster. You might feel drowsy and lethargic so I strongly recommend you to lay here, take a nap, and when you wake up you should be back to normal,” Strange hesitated, “Or at least, whatever is considered normal for a hormonal adolescent boy with spider DNA… Seriously Stark, how do you even find them?”

Tony shrugged,

“You should see the one with the Prym particles irradiated heart”

Stephen Strange seriously hoped the billionaire was kidding.

“Right. If that’s all, I will be going now. Give me a call when the spider kid wakes up” He added to Bruce, “Even if you don’t consider it necessary, I would like to check on his evolution.”

“Will do, doctor” Banner gave him a reassuring smile. Doctor Strange could be cold, even a downright bastard sometimes, but he had a soft spot for the youngest Avengers, and that placed him firmly in the 'friends' category according to the oldest ones. He disappeared through one of his portals, that closed after him in a shower of sparks.

“Wow, that’s so cool!”

Tony sighed and was about to turn to go to Peter again, but to his everyone’s surprise, Harley beat him to it.

“Ok, Pete, that’s enough excitement for one afternoon”

“No, no, I want…” Peter ended his sentence in an unintelligible mumble but it was clear he was trying to sit up. Harley helped him to hold himself upright.

“That ok, Pete?”

“Kid, he’s not listening, he fell asleep” pointed out Tony.

“Ok, then” Harley guided Peter’s back to lay against the stretcher again, while Tony placed his legs in a more comfortable position. Once they were done, he raised a questioning eyebrow at Harley. The blond shrugged,

“What? I might not take a lot of things seriously, but he’s my friend…”

Bruce hummed unconvinced.

“You caught all that on video, didn’t you?” Tony correctly assumed. Harley gave him a dazzling smile in return.

“Every single glorious second of it, I even got some recordings of the flight back here. If you let me have some of the security footage of this room, we could turn it into a short”

Tony winked,

“You got yourself a deal!”

“God I’m so sorry Vine does not longer exists” Harley lamented, “This material is gold! Gold I tell you!”

“Well, I can always buy the company and bring it back…” Tony suggested, following the kid out. Bruce was left alone with the unconscious Peter, wondering what exactly was going to be awaiting the unsuspecting kid on the internet once he woke up.

“Wakey wakey, spider beauty…”

Peter really didn’t want to wake up, he had the feeling he was going to have the hangover of a lifetime once he did, but that little voiced lured him into consciousness like, well, like a spider lures flies into it’s web.

“Come on, Pete, open those pretty eyes for me…”

“Whu? Oh, oh hey babe…” Peter drowsily greeted you, managing to open one eye. You chuckled, relieved, and Peter thought that that right there was the most beautiful sound in the world. Facing the hangover to kill all hangovers was worth it, just to hear that sound again. He opened both eyes and took you in: You looked a little gritty, and exhausted from the last fight, but even so, you were still as breathtaking as the first time he had seen you, all those years ago.

“Hello, princess” He sounded much more alert now, to your infinite relief.

“Hey, there, handsome” you smiled at him and Peter felt his heart skip a beat. He vaguely wondered if it would always feel like this, or if he was going to get used someday to the idea of you being his. He seriously doubted that last one. “Is that my new nickname?” You asked.

“Yeah, yes it is. Because you are a princess. A badass princess, like Leia.” As soon as the words left his mouth, he was hit by the memory of everything that had happened earlier in that very same room. Peter groaned and covered his face with his hands, something he seemed to do every time he felt embarrassed, which lately was a very often.

“Babe, don’t hate me” He grumbled from behind the shelter of his hands, “But I might have told your father about us…”

Your laugh took him by surprise.

“Yeah, I know, he just gave me the “what are your intentions towards my protégée” speech”

Of all the reactions Peter had prepared himself for, that wasn’t one of them.

“Wait, so he isn’t mad?”

You snorted,

“I know! I was surprised too, but according to him, we won him a lot of money!”

“What do you mean?” Peter was sure the drug hadn’t left his system completely, cause you weren’t making any sense.

“Apparently there was a bet going on. He had a lot of money on “Secretly been together all along, just didn’t know it/refused to acknowledge it”” You explained, “and it seems Bucky made a lot with “Angrily confessed their feelings for each other in the middle of a fight” too”

Peter felt his jaw hit the floor,

“I think I need to lay down…”

“Babe, you are laying down” you pointed out.

“Well, then maybe I need to lay down next to you” He replied cheekily. You feigned an annoyed sigh.

“Fine, scoot over” You climbed on the narrow stretcher with him. The both of you barely fitted, laying side by side, but Peter wrapped his arm around your waist to stop you from slipping out. And if he held you a little closer to his body than was strictly necessary, well, you were openly, officially, his girlfriend now. He was allowed to touch you, to kiss you, to stake a little claim on you in front of everyone, here and there.

He laced the fingers of his other hand with yours, and held your joined hands up in the air in front of the both of you, testing the feeling of freedom, of not having to hide anymore, even if it was just of the infirmary security cameras. He couldn’t help the goofy smile he knew he must have been sporting on his face.

You stayed like that, admiring the way your hands looked together, before you had to ask,

“What are you thinking about?”

Peter seemed to gather his thoughts for a moment.

“You held my hand like this” He observed, pensive, “Back on Titan, I mean. After the snap, as we…” He trailed off, but you knew exactly what was left unsaid: As we turned to dust. As we died.

“And I know you must have felt it happening too, cause I remember I felt your fingers starting to crumble underneath my own and-“ His voiced cracked and he had to stop and take a few stabilizing breaths before he could go on. When he did, it was with tears on his eyes as he said, “And I know you were probably terrified, too, but you still held my hand and tried to comfort me. Because I was scared. Because I needed you. And then, when we came back…”

“We were still holding hands” You finished for him.

“Yeah” He murmured, quietly, amazed. He turned on his side, removing his arm from your waist, and placing that elbow on the thin mattress, supporting his head on his hand, to face you.

“I never told you this,” He confessed, “But I remember not wanting to let go” He squeezed your still joined hands, “I still never want to let go”

“Then don’t” You whispered, closing the distance between you, kissing his soft lips gently, trying to convey in that kiss all the adoration, devotion and longing you felt for him. He let go of your hand, only to softly touch your face, with heartbreaking tenderness, as he delicately bit your bottom lip in a silent request for permission. The helpless little moan that escaped your throat was all he needed to deepen the kiss, lips devouring yours, tongue worshipping every corner of the inside of your mouth, hands pulling you closer and closer, making your body come alive beneath his fingertips.

He rolled into his back, pulling you on top of him, one hand tangled in your hair, the other one trailing dangerously lower and lower on your back, seeking the skin under the waist line of your jeans, kiss getting quickly out of control.

When the need for air finally won, and you had to break the kiss, smiling at Peter’s attempt of following your lips with his, you knew. You knew, as certainly as you knew your own name, inexorably and inescapable like gravity. The words left your mouth in a breathless whisper, but as clear as the feeling behind them:

“I love you, Peter Parker.”

Peter could only gaze at you in awe, slack jawed and heart hammering so hard inside his chest you could feel it on your own. You saw the raw emotion in his eyes and knew he was about to say it back.

“That’s all very good but I think it’s about time Pete an I have a certain conversation”

The sound of your father’s voice had you both falling down of the stretcher in your haste to get away from each other.

“Dad! We were just-…”

“Mr. Stark! This isn’t what you think it is!”

Tony looked down on you at your sprawled positions on the med bay floor and scoffed.

“I think I know exactly what this is” He declared, pulling Peter up by back of the collar of his suit, “which is why I think it’s way overdue that Peter here, and I, talk about the birds and the bees…”

“Dad, no!”

“Dad, yes. Tell me, Peter, do you still have the box of condoms I sent you?” Tony left the infirmary dragging a tomato red Peter with him, and you just knew you were never going to get laid again.

Because if there ever was something worse than your father threatening your boyfriend to defend your virtue, it was your father giving your boyfriend sex advice.

The end.

So, this was too long to post in one go, I guess this prompt got outta hand. Or my characters got a little... Handsy.

[anistarrose]

Fear The Reaper A Lot, Actually - Chapter 4

AO3

Chapter Summary: An unlikely friendship springs from a book club, while secrecy becomes more important than ever for Tres Horny Boys. Kravitz receives a summons. Angus does a hit.

Characters: Kravitz, Taako, Barry Bluejeans, Angus McDonald, Magnus Burnsides, Merle Highchurch, Noelle | No-3113, The Raven Queen, The Director | Lucretia, misc. BoB cameos

Relationships: Taakitz, Angus McDonald & Taako, Barry Bluejeans & Kravitz, Kravitz & Angus McDonald

Don't let the Lunar Interlude-esque setting confuse you — this update's a long boi! If you can't already tell how much I love Angus McDonald, then the next few thousand words should make it pretty clear.

***

Some days, Kravitz found paperwork relaxing. Today was not such a day.

The Raven Queen was almost always receptive to his suggestions about how to restructure the forms, and happy to do what she could to minimize the bureaucracy and tedium inherent to almost any other office job. But today, Kravitz’s unbeating heart just wasn’t in his work — just like yesterday, after he’d returned from Wave Echo Cave.

So it was simultaneously a relief and a surprise when a blue glow flashed in his peripheral vision, and he felt the telltale tug of a summons from the Material Plane, specifically…

“The moon?” he muttered out loud. “What is with these people and ridiculous floating secret bases?”

The pull of the summoning spell was designedly weak, and easy for Kravitz to shrug off if needed — but he wasn’t going to pass up an excuse to get out of the office, and try to part ways with Taako on a better note this time. Maybe he could ask around, find out if anyone knew what Lucas and Noelle were up to…

In a cozy bedroom on the moon, a hissing plume of smoke emanated from a sapphire arrowhead, embedded in the soil of a potted plant. As the smoke solidified, Kravitz’s human form took shape, and instinctively scanned his new surroundings for dangers or necromantic abominations.

Two floor-two-ceiling bookshelves were stuffed with novels and encyclopedias, and glow-in-the-dark stars covered the ceiling. The bed was neatly made, but was so small it couldn’t have accommodated anyone larger than a gnome, or a halfling… or a human child.

“Hello again, Mister Grim Reaper,” said Angus. He sat on a tiny wooden chair, pen in hand and notebook open to a fresh page. “I’ve got a number of questions for you.”

Kravitz plucked the arrow from the potted plant, and the electric blue glow of the sapphire faded. “Does Taako know you have this?”

“Nope. But if he did, he’d probably endorse me breaking the spirit of the law, if not the letter — after all, you never said that only Taako could summon you this way.”

Kravitz holds up his hands. “I didn’t mean to sound accusatory. I was just… expecting to meet with Taako today, so this surprised me. But I’d be happy to answer your questions — provided they don’t take more than an hour or so.”

Angus narrowed his eyes. “Will you answer me honestly?”

Seeing no reason to lie to even the most precocious of ten-year-olds, Kravitz declared: “I swear to answer truthfully upon my oath to the Raven Queen.”

“Then tell me — why are you so nice?”

“Pardon?”

Angus glared at him. “You know exactly what I mean — why are you so helpful? You tried to reap my friends’ souls, and told them they that could only save themselves by accomplishing an impossible task! But then, you — you saved them yesterday, and even healed them! What are you playing at?!”

Immensely grateful that he’d set the terms on his own honesty oath, Kravitz told the truth with a few details omitted. “I helped them because they seemed like nicer people than most of the bounties I hunt — and in that strange sort of ‘begrudging respect’ way, I guess I’m growing fond of them.” Taako even moreso than the others.

“If you were really fond of them, you wouldn’t be trying to kill them in the first place,” Angus muttered, lowering his gaze.

“I’m sorry,” Kravitz told him, and that too was the truth. “It’s just what my job demands —”

“Then maybe you shouldn’t have gotten into this line of business!” Angus screamed, wiping tears from his eyes. “In two months, I’m gonna lose three of the closest people I have to family, and it’ll all be because I’m just a kid detective who can’t track down a couple of liches — but it’ll also be because of you! I hate you, and I hate everything you stand for!”

Angus’s fist sunk harmlessly into Kravitz’s raven-feather cloak, but he staggered backwards like he’d punched a brick wall, falling to his knees and taking off his glasses to sob — but against his better judgement, Kravitz kneeled down at Angus’s side.

“Don’t count out Taako and the others just yet,” he whispered. “I’ve seen them do miraculous things — escaping from me in the laboratory, for one thing, and banishing Legion, for another. If they can defeat thousands of unruly undead souls in combat like that, then they might just be worthy opponents for even the most crafty and powerful of liches.”

“You’re sure they’ll be okay?” Angus sniffed.

“No,” Kravitz admitted. “I’m not sure. I wish I could be, because I really don’t want to send them to the Astral Plane. But they’ve got help — not just your smarts, but my scythe as well, because I don’t intend to just stand idly by without giving them a fighting chance. I… truthfully, Angus, when I offered them the deal, I wanted to bring an end to the headache they’d given me by any means necessary. But they’ve earned my respect since then, and though the deal can’t be undone, there’s no rule stopping me from aiding them. I don’t want to reap their souls if there’s any way I can avoid it, any excuse or loophole.”

Angus rubbed his nose. “Do you — do you normally like reaping people’s souls?”

Kravitz took a moment to think about his answer. “I was a human like you, once. Alive, and precocious, and always getting in over my head. When I died, and started serving the Raven Queen as a reaper, I felt like I had discovered my life’s purpose, even though it ironically required becoming undead as a prerequisite. My duty is to keep the balance of the universe — to save lives by stopping liches, necromancers, and their foul servants from upsetting that balance — but I remember what it felt like to be mortal, to have mortal loved ones. So… I don’t enjoy watching people grieve, because it feels all too familiar.”

He sat down, and crossed his legs. “I don’t tell a lot of people about this, but in a way, if I’d come to terms with death and grieved more quietly when I was alive… well, let’s just say I probably wouldn’t be a reaper today.”

Angus managed a smile. “You know, you’re nothing like the Grim Reaper in the Caleb Cleveland, Kid Cop books.”

“Oh? I know there are… a variety of misconceptions about me floating around in the world, but I haven’t read that series. Are they detective stories?”

“They’re the world’s greatest detective stories,” Angus declared, “and I own every installment!” For the first time since his ill-fated attempt to punch Kravitz, he stood up, and selected a book from his bookshelf. “This is the first one that you — well, not really you — show up in.”

Kravitz took a look at the cover illustration, which featured a child in a deerstalker hat standing back to back with a deathly pale man, dressed in tattered gray robes and wielding an iron scythe. The title read Caleb Cleveland and the Mask of Death.

“Not much of a resemblance, is there?” Kravitz mused. “I guess can’t fault them for the iron scythe, because that’s what everyone seems to expect, but iron and celestial magic don’t always get along — better than iron and fae magic for sure, but still not especially well.”

“His personality isn’t a whole lot like yours either, sir,” Angus sheepishly admitted. “This is the start of the five-book Grim Reaper arc, which starts off with the reaper helping Caleb solve murder mysteries until Caleb’s previously-struggling private detective agency — which he started after his schism with the corrupt police establishment in the last book — is renowned throughout the country. But then Caleb realizes that the reaper is just trying to bring about an era of prosperity and increased population density, so that he can kill the maximum number of people possible while poisoning the water supply! And of course Caleb disavows his partnership with Death, but the reaper spends the next four installments of the arc committing more murders as revenge — which initially felt like a little bit of a motivation downgrade, if I’m being honest, but it also led to some great continuity between books as well as some really well-written horror that unsettles without pulling on cheap shock value! So they turned out to be some of my favorite books in the series, and… I’m sorry if I judged you a little hastily because of them. You’re a whole lot nicer than the Grim Reaper I expected.”

“You don’t have to apologize. You’re hardly the first person to misjudge me for my line of work, and I don’t expect you to be the last.” Kravitz flipped through the book, which was full of underlined words and fan theories neatly written in the margins. “Actually, do you mind if I borrow this? I’ve always loved mystery novels.”

“You really want to read it?” Angus’s eyes lit up. “Uh, well, I should probably start by giving you the first book in the series, otherwise a lot of callbacks to previous adventures won’t make sense. But I guess I did kind of just spoil the whole plot of Books 21 through —”

“Don’t worry about it,” Kravitz assured him with a smile. “And I think I will take Book 1 to start out, please.”

“Alrighty, then!” Angus selected a well-worn book from his shelf and handed it to Kravitz. “Could you, um… let me know what you think of it when you finish reading?”

“I absolutely can. Oh, and Angus?”

“Yes?”

“You sound like a marvelous detective. If anyone can crack the case of these liches, I believe it’ll be you — but don’t beat yourself up if you can’t, alright? That’s a lot of pressure to put on someone, and you’re a growing kid — you need your rest.”

Angus nodded. “I’ll try to remember that, sir.”

***

Angus gave directions to the three Reclaimers’ shared dorm, but didn’t specify which individual room was Taako’s, so on a hunch, Kravitz knocked on the door of the room that smelled the most like baked goods. Sure enough, he heard Taako shout “It’s unlocked!” over the banging of bowls and cookie sheets.

“You need to look after your arrows better,” Kravitz warned him as he entered. “If someone with more malicious intentions than Angus were to steal one, then they could easily lure me into a trap.”

Taako blinked. “Whoa, what happened to your accent? I thought you were a stranger and almost chucked a bowl of gingersnap dough at your head!”

Kravitz narrowed his eyes. “Did you really? You look like you’ve got a pretty firm grip on it, there.”

“No, you called my bluff. I’m too good of a chef to just go chucking perfectly good food whenever someone spooks me — the point is, what is up with your voice, my dude?”

“It’s, um… a work accent,” Kravitz explained. “My normal voice isn’t that intimidating. As you can tell, heh.”

“Still wouldn’t want you to slice me up with a scythe, though. You gotta give yourself more credit.” Taako rolled a small handful of gingersnap dough into a ball, dusting it with sugar and placing it in the corner of a fresh cookie sheet. “And to answer your complaint earlier, Angus wasn’t as slick as he thought he was when he swiped that arrow, but I let him get away with it ‘cause I knew neither of you two dorks would try to fight each other or anything like that.”

“He actually did want to fight me for a minute or two,” Kravitz replied, “but we worked it out and now we’re apparently… book club buddies? I’m not sure, I’m no good with kids — or maybe I’m better with kids than I’m consciously aware of?”

Taako snorted. “I didn’t endear myself to little Ango at first either, but now I guess I’m his hero, and his teacher, and maybe even his emotionally adopted uncle or something? There’s just something magical about that kid.”

“Absolutely, but… he seemed stressed.” Kravitz sighed, and Taako’s expression softened. “I suppose this is partly my fault, but there’s an awful lot of pressure on him.”

“Yeah, he — he doesn’t find it so funny when me an’ the boys joke about death, I’ve been noticing. I’ll make sure he takes some time off the case to relax — you think that would help him?”

“I think that would be a good place to start.” Kravitz nodded, glancing over the sheets of oatmeal cookies cooling on the adjacent counter. “You look like you’ve been keeping busy yourself.”

“Yeah, the Director was so thrilled with my Candlenights macarons that she requested a couple batches of oatmeal-white chocolate and some gingersnaps. Guess she read my cookbook or something — ‘cause my whole cookie portfolio is choice, don’t get me wrong, but those are a couple of my top-tier baked goods after the macarons.”

“They smell heavenly — and I should know, working in the Astral Plane! Do you mind if I try one?”

“Wait!” Taako pushed Kravitz’s hand away from the tray. “I didn’t check them for — hang on, you’re already dead, right? You know what, go for it. Sorry about that.” Under his breath, he added: “It’ll be fine. Perfectly fine.”

Confused and a little concerned, but too polite to decline Taako’s offer, Kravitz took a bite of an oatmeal cookie. It was still slightly warm, and the white chocolate melted in his mouth, but he couldn’t imagine it being any less of a delight after having cooled, either.

“So, how many of these does your boss actually want,” asked Kravitz, “and how many can I take back home? They’re just as good as they smell!”

“Course they are,” Taako snickered. “Gimme a few minutes here, and I’ll make you a little gift baggie.”

“Speaking of gifts, that reminds me —” From an inside pocket of his cloak, Kravitz procured four new summoning arrows. “I spoke with the Raven Queen, and was able to arrange an exception to that… company policy, the one about summoning me for business only.”

Taako didn’t look away from his cookie sheet, but his ears immediately perked up.

“You can use them outside of emergency situations — within reason, of course,” Kravitz continued. “I don’t want to manifest in the middle of, I don’t know, a heated debate about moon bylaws, or whatever it is that you people vote on up here.”

“Actually, it turns out moon society is kinda authoritarian.” Taako finished filling the first sheet with gingersnap dough, and began work on a second. “But be honest — how much of this was actually premediated on your part, and how much is just a spur of the moment decision now that you know I’ll give you free baked goods?”

“It was premediated, but make no mistake, the baked goods are a bonus,” Kravitz chuckled. He neglected to mention that there had been no company policy in the first place, nor had there been a conversation with the Raven Queen. Part of him just wanted to give Taako his Stone of Farspeech number like he had with Angus, and bid farewell to the archaic summoning rituals altogether, but it would still be handing over personal information to an active bounty, and there were some lines even Kravitz didn’t dare cross — at least, not yet. “But as good as it is to be able to keep in touch with you, there’s something I should probably warn you about sooner rather than later.”

“Fire away.”

“I assume you were looking for Lup in Wave Echo Cave the other day. But that didn’t unveil many clues to you, did it?”

“Unveil? No matter you and Angus are starting a book club, you speak in the same detective mambo-jumbo. But you’re right, we found zilch.”

“Are you going to start looking for Barry Bluejeans next, by any chance?”

Taako made a funny expression. “Yeah, I guess that’s the plan. But, well, we also agreed that the plan should be to stay on the moon to rest and train for a couple days — ‘cause Magnus has been a bad influence, and we all rushed into the cave expedition just a day after we almost died averting the crystal apocalypse. You saw how that worked out for us.”

Kravitz nodded. “Today is the first day I’ve actually seen you without bags under your eyes. It suits you.” The last part slipped out without Kravitz thinking it through, but it prompted a wink from Taako, which Kravitz considered among the better possible outcomes of impromptu flirting.

“But getting back on topic,” he continued, “I wanted to warn you about Barry. I’ve encountered him a number of times, and he’s not exactly a normal lich.”

Taako sat down on a stool and crossed his legs. “Well, you dunno what my reference point is for liches. He could be a totally regular, run-of-the-mill lich by my standards — maybe a little spooky, but nothin’ to write home about, you know?”

“Then you’d be consorting with some pretty strange liches, because Barry is a very confusing one. Most liches are either antisocial or obsessed with grim monologues, but Barry has held a handful of coherent brief conversations with me — all of which started out weirdly normal, until he started rambling nonsense about the planar system with a genuinely unsettling amount of conviction.”

“Oh, those liches,” Taako muttered, nodding along. “Always saying the darndest things.”

“I feel like you’re not taking this as seriously as you could.” Kravitz narrowed his eyes. “To be fair, I’ve never seen Barry hurt innocent mortals, which is another way he differs from essentially all other liches — but that doesn’t mean that he’s not a threat, especially if you’re hunting him down. After all, there’s a reason I’ve spoken to him several times, but never successfully captured him.”

Kravitz thought back to one of his first and most troubling encounters with Barry, about a year after the end of the Relic Wars. They’d crossed paths by accident, in a seaside town recently demolished by a serpent of the Oculus’s creation, and Barry had exploited the shambles of the port to his advantage, hurling fishing nets and tattered sails at Kravitz as he made his escape.

“You can’t run from justice forever, Bluejeans!” Kravitz had shouted, slicing through a weighted net with his scythe. “Your kind all wind up in the Eternal Stockade eventually!”

“I’ve spent decades bracing myself for the end of apparent eternity and the exhaustion of apparent infinity,” Barry had replied matter-of-factly. “If your prison could really stay intact until the end of time, then I’d be happy to hunker down there with everyone I love and wait for this storm to blow over.”

With a flick of a spectral hand, he’d flung a half-dozen crates of rotten fish at Kravitz’s head. “But you don’t see me handing my soul over without a fight, so… I guess that should tell you everything I think about your so-called ‘eternal’ stockade.”

Kravitz had easily dodged the crates, but stepped right into the epicenter of the geyser that erupted from beneath the dock a moment later, launching him into the air. By the time he’d flown back down to sea level, Barry had been long gone.

“You know, if he still seems pretty chill for a lich,” Taako mused, dragging Kravitz back to the present, “and he’s harmless except for when you try to capture him, then… why are you still trying to capture him? Why not just let him do his thing?”

Kravitz sighed. “That’s a good question, and I’m honestly curious… why do you think I haven’t given up on him?”

“Well… ‘cause liches are illegal, right? Is this a trick question?”

“That’s the answer I was expecting, and you’re not wrong — but that’s not the entire story, either,” Kravitz told him. “I also don’t want to leave Barry to ‘do his thing,’ as you put it, because I don’t know what ‘his thing’ entails. I’ve heard him allude to needing something specific out of undeath, but I don’t know what that is — if it’s immortality, or power, or something else altogether. I don’t know if he’s just putting on a harmless facade while he waits for me to let my guard down.”

Taako nodded. “You think he’s planning something.”

“I know he’s planning something. Most liches, they’re unpredictable because the combination of undeath and their hunger for power has eroded their sense of logic and driven them insane. And at first, I thought this was the one thing Barry had in common with them — with his nonsensical grim warnings, and haphazard pattern of popping up in the last places I expect — but over the past decade of hunting him, I’ve gradually realized he isn’t insane at all. He just bases his decisions off of information that no one else in the universe seems to possess, and constructs plans that no one else in the world understands. He’s unpredictable, but not irrational — and coming from a spellcaster as powerful as he is, that honestly terrifies me.”

Taako whistled. “Guess we’ve really got our work cut out for us, then.”

“I’ll leave you with this: please, if you track Barry Bluejeans down but he seems civil, and reasonable, and harmless, you still cannot and should not trust him, no matter what he tells you. With liches, even abnormal ones, you can’t risk anything less than constant vigilance. Take it from someone who learned it the hard way centuries ago, and has been significantly better at his job ever since.”

“Aww, you’re worried about us,” Taako snickered as he placed the gingersnaps in the oven. “But I read you loud and clear — you don’t need to worry about me falling for a lich’s tricks, of course, but I’ll remind the other two goofuses to be careful.”

He frowned, closing the oven door. “Although, now that I think about it… what does Barry even look like as a lich? I don’t actually know what we should be searching for, but I’m assuming it’s not a normal-ass dude in jeans.”

“Oh, you can’t miss him. Most necromancers spring for black or gray robes, but his is bright red.”

Taako’s eyes went wide. “You know those grim warnings you mentioned him giving? Would they happen to be about, uh, the hunger of all living things?”

“You’ve met his lich form, too?” Kravitz slapped his forehead. “Were you also the best man at his wedding? Do you golf with him on Saturdays?”

“Man,” Taako muttered, “I am so glad we decided not to tell the Director about this.”

***

Angus found Noelle in the Bureau’s gym, dumping a cooler of water on her teammates as they finished an intense workout. On the other side of the room, Avi was thoroughly demolishing Brad Bradson at an impromptu game of half-court basketball, and a small but rowdy crowd had gathered to watch.

“Not gonna lie, I’d kill to be a tireless cyborg like you, Noelle,” Carey groaned, overdramatically collapsing into Killian’s arms. “I’m exhausted.”

“I dunno. If training didn’t make my arms ache, then I don’t think it would be half as satisfying,” Killian replied, wiping her brow. “Although some laser eyes to pair with my crossbow might be pretty kickass.”

“I’m enjoying the whole swappable body parts thing more than I thought I would,” Noelle said. “At first I was worried I’d accidentally fry a whole bunch of people with my arm cannon, but it turns out I can just take it off for non-violent occasions!”

“Hey, Angus!” Carey called out, waving to him. “Got any strong opinions about cyborgs and integrating technology into our bodies?”

“Um, I was actually just here to ask Noelle a few questions. Is this not a good time?”

Noelle shrugged. “Well, we just finished training for the day, so I don’t see why not.”

Angus beamed. “Great! But do you mind if we conduct the interview somewhere… a little quieter than this gym?”

Noelle raised an arm, shielding Angus from a stray basketball. “Sounds like a plan.”

Upon arriving in Noelle’s as-of-yet sparsely furnished dorm, Angus sat cross-legged on the floor and opened to a fresh page in his notebook.

“So, Magnus told me that you had a run-in with Barry Bluejeans shortly before his death in Phandalin. I’d never want to force you to think back to traumatic memories, but if there are any details you recall about him off the top of your head, that could be vital to our investigation.”

“I appreciate the concern, but it’ll be alright,” Noelle assured him. “I’ve already been thinkin’ back to that encounter a lot, ever since I learned Barry was a lich — ‘cause he really, really didn’t act like how I was always told liches would behave. See, he… he almost took a blast of fire to the chest while he was shepherding us into that stockroom, and even then, he told us to stay in there while he risked his life trying to lead the dwarf away. He was so brave, and he even got that dwarf out of the bar… but still not far enough away, I guess.”

“Was he using any spells? Magically redirecting fire? Did he try to teleport you to safety?”

“No, no spells that I saw. He threw a chair across the room to distract the dwarf at one point, but that was with his own two arms and I imagine a whole lot of adrenaline, not any sorta spectral mage hands or whatever it is that wizards use.”

“Hmm.” Angus clicked his pen. “I hate to say it, but if he didn’t cast a single spell, then it sounds like he really wasn’t trying that hard to save the town…”

“No, that’s not it. I’m sure of it. He told us not to be afraid, but he was… he was scared. Did a real good job of hiding it, but he was shaking as he closed that door to that stockroom and went back into the bar to face the fire. I sincerely believe he was doin’ everything he could to save us from the Phoenix Fire Gauntlet, and it just… wasn’t enough.”

“I wonder if Lich Barry has — or rather, had a kinder but more incompetent twin brother,” Angus mused, jotting down the thought in his notes. “It would make more sense than — wait. What did you just say about the gauntlet?”

“That Barry tried to save us from it? I guess I didn’t know what it was called back then, not until after I died and I remembered the Relic Wars —”

“Exactly! Noelle, you’re a genius!” Angus sprung to his feet. “We need to go talk to Johann!”

Noelle floated after him as he raced out of the room and towards the nearest elevator. “About what? The Voidfish?”

“Right! Maybe Barry didn’t cast any spells when he was alive because he didn’t remember that he could!”

“So when he died, the memories would’ve all rushed back to him, and he could go back to his lich-y business!” Noelle finished. “But why would the Bureau have erased information about Barry, of all people?”

“I don’t know,” Angus admitted as they stepped into the elevator and it began to descend. “Maybe he used to work with them, and went rogue? I’d ask the Director, but…”

“She’s not in on the lich-hunting secret, right. But you’ll probably have to tell her eventually, won’t you? Y’all can’t keep sneaking out forever.”

“Oh, I know. But the Reclaimers are going to be the ones to break the news to her, not me. They were the ones who lied about it in the first place, after all.” The elevator doors opened, and Angus sprinted out at full speed towards Johann’s office. “Johann, I have a question! Is there a way to check what people the Voidfish has erased?”

Johann gingerly set down his violin, and tapped his head. “You’re looking at it. I’ve been in charge of feeding info to the Voidfish basically since the Bureau got started, and lucky for you, I’ve got a pretty good memory for who and what gets erased from the rest of the world.”

He sighed. “I kinda… I feel like the least I can do is remember them when no one else will, you know? ‘Cause it’s what I hope someone will do for me when I’m gone, and… well, that got real depressing real fast. You probably don’t want to hear that, kid — so just tell me, who do you need to know about?”

“I realize now that I’m forming the question in my head that this might sound like a goof,” Angus admitted, “but have you ever erased information about someone named Barry Bluejeans?”

Johann laughed. “You’re right, that does sound like a goof! I can’t remember hearing about him before, never mind erasing him — and I’d definitely remember a name like that, trust me.”

“Oh.” Angus’s face fell. “I was so sure…”

Noelle drifted over to the Voidfish’s tank, watching the swirling galaxy patterns drift by. “Don’t give up, Angus. You might still be onto something — maybe the info could’ve gotten erased before Johann was in charge here, or maybe before the Bureau even found the Voidfish.”

Johann nodded. “Yeah, maybe. You want me to ask the Director about it?”

“No!” Angus and Noelle shouted in unison.

“Not yet,” Angus added hurriedly. “Maybe eventually. I’ll need to talk to Taako and the others about it first.”

“Okay, whatever,” Johann shrugged. “I don’t really understand what’s going on here, but you do you.”

As Noelle rode the elevator back to the roof with Angus, she asked: “So, what’s our next move?”

“I guess we should go tell the Reclaimers about the break in the case, or lack thereof. And maybe make an argument for coming clean to the Director, while we’re there.”

They made their way back to the Reclaimers’ dorm, but upon opening the door, every one of the room’s occupants jumped out of their seats in shock.

“Oh, it’s just you two,” Taako sighed, lowering his Umbra Staff. “Try and knock next time! I thought you were Lucretia coming to bust our secret meeting!”

The living room looked exactly how Angus would expect the site of an impromptu clandestine gathering to look, with dozens of papers scattered about and a corkboard lying on the coffee table. Red and blue strings connected dozens of thumbtacks, and the center of the board was occupied by a red crayon drawing of a disembodied robe.

Merle chuckled, elbowing Magnus. “You know, if you’d really wanted to keep our meeting secret, then we woulda made sure our ‘security guard’ actually locked the goddamn door —”

“That’s not important right now,” Magnus interrupted, closing the door and motioning for Noelle and Angus to join the circle around the coffee table. “What’s important is that you two haven’t let anything slip to Lucretia since the last time we talked!”

“Um, we haven’t, but…” Angus frowned. “We were actually thinking it might be better to let her in on the secret. I have a lot of questions that only she can help us answer —”

“Then they’ll just have to go unhelped!” Taako declared, magically silencing Angus’s Stone of Farspeech. “If you tell her our lives depend on arresting one of the Red Robes, she’ll go ballistic!”

Angus blinked. “I think I’m missing a lot of context here, sir.”

“I think I’m missing even more,” Noelle added.

Magnus pointed at the drawing of the Red Robe. “See this? This is Barry’s true form, according to Kravitz. And according to Lucretia, the Red Robes are all super duper evil, so she’s not too keen on us talking to them. Or interacting with them any more than we have to, really.”

“Well, what’s supposedly so evil about them?” Noelle asked. “Are they all liches?”

“No! Well, actually, they might be,” Merle admitted. “I dunno the states of all their souls, but we do know they made the Grand Relics!”

“What?” Noelle gasped.

“You know, like the Philosopher’s Stone?” Magnus added. “And the Phoenix Fire Gauntlet?”

“No, I know what the Grand Relics are, but there’s gotta be some mistake,” Noelle replied. “Barry was trying to stop the Phoenix Fire Gauntlet from going off and incinerating the whole town — and even if he was amnesiac when I met him, I just can’t imagine him ever creating something like that. It just doesn’t make sense —”

“Nothing about Barry Bluejeans makes sense,” Angus agreed. “There must be something we’re missing…”

“I’m sure there is, but one way or another, I’m pretty sure Barry did help make the Relics,” Magnus told them. “He’s popped up near almost every one of them, except for the Oculus —”

“Yeah, remember when you sensed a lich in the Cosmoscope, Noelle?” Taako chimed in. “That was Barry. He rooted through Lucas’s trash and said some ominous shit about billions of lives getting devoured. Doesn’t that sound like a guy who could be the evil mastermind behind the Relic Wars?”

“Well, why don’t we just ask him?” Merle spoke up. “I mean, it’s not like we have any trouble finding the guy even when we’re not looking for him, ha! — so next time we run into him, how about I cast Zone of Truth, and ask what he has to do with the Grand Relics?”

“That’s a great idea, sir!” Angus exclaimed, but his face fell after just a moment. “But if Barry usually just shows up around the Relics, and we have no idea where the last three are, then how will we know where to look for him? We don’t have the time to wait for another to surface randomly like the Philosopher’s Stone and Gaia Sash did.”

“Kid’s got a point, Merle,” Taako admitted, rubbing his chin. “But as long as we don’t have any other leads… I can think of at least once place it wouldn’t hurt to check, and maybe even grace with a séance!”

“Phandalin?” Noelle asked, and Taako nodded.

“Exactly! Sure, the last time we revisited an old stomping grounds didn’t go so well, but Phandalin’s just a flat circle where you can see danger coming from any direction. What could go wrong?”

***

End notes:

Some miscellaneous headcanons about the stuff in Angus’s room: Magnus made the bookshelves and chair, Lucretia provided the bed and helped Angus attach the stars to the ceiling, and the books are almost all Angus’s own. It took a while to bring them all up to the moon, but Lucretia was happy to help, and she and Taako both gave Angus a few more novels to add to his collection.

Next chapter has some exciting stuff happening, including an appearance from a certain lich that the boys may or may not be hunting, so stay tuned! I’m not sure how long I’ll be able to hold the every-other-Tuesday update schedule after Chapter 5, because long story short:

I got a part-time job that doesn’t take up that much time, but does occupy the part of the day when I’m usually in the mood to write.

I had mild insomnia for like a solid 4 nights, which I have since recovered from but not before it threw a wrench in my writing process, so that burnt through a “buffer” pre-written chapter or two.

I’m by no means abandoning this fic, but if updates slow down to more of a monthly pace after Chapter 5, this is why! Just wanted to give you all a heads-up.

[enbyleighlines]

Okie-dokie, so this is part 2 of 3 requests! This one is Lan Wangji & Jiang Yanli: Friendship

I hope you enjoy!

—

The aquarium is a big hit. Lan Wangji had suspected as much, when it came to A-Yuan. But he hadn’t been sure whether or not A-Ling would like it, too.

And here the kids are, both pressing nose prints to the glass, as they stare excitedly at the jellyfish floating about. They could pass for brothers, the two of them. A-Yuan is five, while A-Ling is three. Whatever A-Yuan does, A-Ling wants to copy.

It’s very endearing.

“Look at them,” Jiang Yanli whispers, “How long have they been staring at the jellyfish, now?”

Lan Wangji glances at his wristwatch, although he’s aware that Jiang Yanli’s question is rhetorical. It’s a reflexive gesture, one built up after a lifetime of keeping a strict schedule. “Five minutes?” He guesses.

The two of them are in the midst of one of their increasingly common family outings. A-Yuan and A-Ling are best friends, and Wei Wuxian always appreciates an opportunity to spend time with his Jiejie. Unfortunately, neither Wei Wuxian nor Jin Zixuan could join them today. It’s not unusual for Wei Wuxian to work a shift on the weekends, since he’s in retail. But Jin Zixuan’s absence is abnormal.

Lan Wangji was a bit disappointed to hear that Jin Zixuan is sick. The two of them have developed an easygoing friendship, one that was forged on their mutual distaste of idle chatter. They have enjoyed many moments of comfortable silence together.

Still, Lan Wangji does not dislike Jiang Yanli. She is a smart, kind, capable woman. They just don’t generally get many opportunities to speak one on one.

“Should we nudge them along?” Lan Wangji asks.

But Jiang Yanli shakes her head. “It’s not like they’re blocking anyone’s view,” she reasons, “Let’s let them be.”

“Mn,” Lan Wangji agrees.

They stand in silence and watch their sons for a moment.

Then Jiang Yanli speaks up again. “You know,” she says, “I’ve been reading some of your poetry to A-Ling. He really seems to enjoy it.”

Lan Wangji feels the heat rise to his face. It doesn’t surprise him that Jiang Yanli knows about his poetry. Though he publishes his poems in secret, under a pseudonym, Wei Wuxian knows all about it. And Wei Wuxian is not good at keeping secrets.

But Lan Wangji is still embarrassed. His poems are incredibly self-indulgent. So he replies, rather awkwardly, “Does he?”

“Yes! Especially the poems about rabbits,” Jiang Yanli says.

With her intuition, it’s impossible to think that she is blind to Lan Wangji’s nervous state. But her own demeanor is no less composed.

“Though,” Jiang Yanli adds with a soft chuckle, “He thinks there should be a poem about dogs, too.” She turns her head to look Lan Wangji in the face. “Have you ever thought about composing a book of poems for children? I think it would do really well.”

So they are going to keep talking about this, then. Lan Wangji takes a deep breath. “Once or twice,” he admits. It’s something his Muqin liked to do.

“Your poems are incredibly... approachable,” Jiang Yanli says, “That’s the only word I could think of to describe them. That is to say, they are easy to read. You don’t need a masters in creative writing to understand them.”

Lan Wangji feels himself smile at that. “My Muqin once told me,” he tells her, “that poems should speak to the common folk. She always did hate the precociousness of academia.”

“And yet she married a literary critic,” Jiang Yanli points out.

“Indeed.” Lan Wangji’s smile grows. “She liked poetry because it didn’t have as many rules as prose. My Muqin always resented boundaries. For her to fall for my Fuqin, a man who only wrote and consumed high literature... She liked to call it her life’s biggest irony.”

Jiang Yanli giggles. “You know,” she says, rather unexpectedly, “I think your Muqin and Cangse-ayi* would have gotten along.”

[*Ayi = “auntie”, a way to refer to a parent’s friend]

Lan Wangji blinks at Jiang Yanli.

His surprise must be highly visible. Jiang Yanli smiles at him and explains, “I was very young the last time I saw her, only six or seven. But I remember Cangse Sanren was a very happy, vibrant woman, much like A-Xian. The complete opposite of my Mama. My Mama used to say that Cangse-ayi had no woman friends, because she was undisciplined and had no manners. But I think maybe they just resented her because so many of their husbands had crushes on her.”

Lan Wangji listens and nods along. Funnily enough, his Shufu also knew Cangse Sanren at one point. Though his Shufu doesn’t like to talk about it, he has said that Wei Wuxian’s resemblance to her, in both looks and personality, is uncanny.

“I always liked Cangse-ayi,” Jiang Yanli continues, “and I felt bad that the other women in the neighborhood said mean things about her behind her back. And I know it’s silly, but recently I’ve been thinking about her and Wei-shushu, ever since you and A-Xian announced your engagement...”

“Ah,” Lan Wangji says. He looks down at the simple band on his finger. Soon, he and Wei Wuxian will be wed. He’s pushed it to the back of his mind, for the sake of his sanity. If he thinks about it for too long, he becomes overwhelmed with emotion.

“Maybe it’s impolite to discuss such sad things so close to the wedding...” Jiang Yanli trails off.

Lan Wangji, though, shakes his head. “I don’t mind,” he assures her, “I have also been thinking about my Muqin lately. I know she would be happy, to see me marry such a wonderful man.”

“And A-Xian’s parents would be happy, too,” Jiang Yanli adds.

“They will be watching over us together,” Lan Wangji says, and closes his eyes briefly to imagine it. “My Muqin, and Wei Ying’s parents...”

When he opens his eyes, Jiang Yanli’s soft gaze is on him. In the moment, her expression reminds Lan Wangji of his Xiongzhang. It’s so warm and open. It’s the kind of face that says, “My love is unconditional.”

The moment can’t last forever. A-Yuan and A-Ling finally decide to move on to the next tank, dragging their parents along after them.

But that moment leaves an impression on Lan Wangji. He will remember it months later, on his wedding night, when he officially becomes Jiang Yanli’s brother-in-law. He will recall their conversation, and imagine his Muqin and Wei Wuxian’s parents, smiling down at them, perched up together in the clouds.

[mindthewolves]

differential diagnosis of common problems in fic*

*not just fanfic, but you don’t see that much original fic from people just starting out because Gatekeepers

disclaimer – this is not a “god this is terrible writing how could you do that ever” but a “we all have blind spots and maybe would benefit from getting a beta reader” and yes, ofc that includes me too. also these are general Story Things as separate from Issues of Representation Things.

other writers, hello and feel free to chime in!

content:

characters that exist solely for another character’s development. write people as people, not objects.

relationships in which A Modicum of communication would save you 20 chapters of angst

infodumping, extensive and conspicuous exposition, the like

on the other end of the spectrum, not grounding the scene (can’t visualize what’s going on)

extreme violence without reason or as a shoddy excuse for character development, particularly as highly gendered tropes

perfection (I see this with kara a lot in supergirl fic. she’s invulnerable, with super strength, super nice, drop-dead gorgeous, and secretly a scientific whiz kid AND ALSO can paint you something to sell at Sotheby’s. this has gone too far.)

songfic with the entire song written out in the middle of the story while the plot slips through your fingers or random lyrics interspersed throughout. ditto poetry. ditto quotes by people who are supposed to lend Weight and Gravitas to the fic

medicine/science that is indistinguishable from magic. R&D takes a long time. you do not defibrillate for asystole. (hello, flash. i’m looking at you.)

the telepathic narrator: in which the POV jumps back and forth between characters (most commonly love interests) with every other sentence

see related cheat code: “character A knew that character B was feeling/thinking X, Y, and Z” just no

precocious toddlers Wise Beyond Their Years or grown-ass adults with the intellect and emotional maturity of children (again, unless done for effect)

extensive author notes that prescribe exactly what you should take away from the fic and what things were Supposed To Mean. stories do not work like that; they’re open to interpretation, AND they should stand on their own without explanation

formatting:

why is there extra white space on ao3 you guys

block text of more than ~5 lines per paragraph, i cannot read it

italics where they shouldn’t be; it’s like listening to an oddly accented musical line

weird formatting of glosses for non-English words

each character’s reaction/description should go with their dialogue

if character A is speaking:

incorrect: “What movie do you want to watch?” character B shrugged.

correct: “What movie do you want to watch?”

character B shrugged.

changing verb tense in the middle of a story

spelling and word choice:

the epithets, cease and desist. it’s distracting and it reduces your character to a single aspect (usually of their appearance) that is (usually) not relevant to the scene at all. particularly egregious: epithets based on race/ethnicity

unclear pronouns, esp with f/f or m/m ships

its =/= it’s, pls google. the first is possessive and the second is “it is”

their/they’re/there and your/you’re, remember google is your friend

lets =/= let’s and all other verbs in this pattern: the first is the verb conjugation (-s) for he/she/it in present tense. the second is “let us”

reign =/= rein. you reign over a kingdom but you “rein in” an impulse. like a horse.

taut =/= taught

weary =/= wary

bawling =/= balling

adverse =/= averse, you are “averse to” pickles but go out in “adverse” weather

it’s “another think coming” rather than “another thing”

there seems to be some confusion over the words lay and lie. you lie down on a bed, past tense lay, present participle lying, past participle lain. you lay an object down on a table, past tense laid, present participle laying. these are not the same word, despite the spelling overlap.

misspelling your character names. really?

that word does not mean what you think it means

see also: i looked this up in the dictionary no one will know it but ppl will think i am Smart

for the reader/audience side of things:

how to comment (an example, not an absolute)

thank the writer. fics are not tangible but they are still gifts

what did you like about the fic and why?

other things you’d like to see, meta about the characters, lines that stuck with you, what worked and what didn’t

if you want to offer suggestions and they are not constructive, stop right there. hard stop.

if you have constructive criticism, drop an ask and see if that’s something the writer is even interested in. you don’t walk up to someone who’s wearing a pair of gloves they just knitted and say, “that row of stitches, it’s going the wrong way.” keep in mind that ao3 or tumblr may not be the place for unsolicited critique, especially from strangers online with no established credentials. concrit is like dark magic and not to be tampered with lightly. people who actually know how to give it are probably not the people who roll up in your comments with Demands

should I even comment?

if you read The Thing, leave a comment. support your writers. it’s not just paying it back or being a good fandom citizen. language is about connection – we write to be read. the fic is the ask; the comment is the answer

fic is not a one-way street or it doesn’t have to be

& I promise that even a well thought-out comment will take a fraction of the time it took to write the actual fic

also if you are a reader who wants to write, or a reader who wants to read better, commenting (i.e. thinking about what makes fic work and putting that into words) will help up your game too

for betas and critique partners:

the diplomatic critiquer

more references

read fic that you admire, take it apart, see how it works

be clear about what the writer is looking for w a beta read AND what the beta reader is willing or able to do. for me this comes in three tiers: 

1. content editing, story problems, representation problems

2. sentence and paragraph-level problems: internal echoes, issues w writing voice, things that don’t make sense, etc. 

3. copyediting: spelling and grammar only

motion to add an opt-in “yes, looking for concrit” box on ao3

sites for critting original fic: critique circle, critters

[genkidesurun]

I’m bored and have no story (or curhatan) to share... so it’s time to duel answer some questionnaire! Actually, the original post [here] got more than ninety questions, but I’ll just pick the ones I’m interested in and alter some of them a bit. 

1. If you had to be gay for a day, what celebrity would you most like to take on a date? 

It’s arduous to project the kind of girl that’ll draw my attention. But since I have the hots for nerdy guys (with fast-paced speech, silly gesticulations, and, of course, glasses!) like John and Hank Green, I’ll probably go for girls with such similitudes. Hmmm... Emily Graslie, perhaps? 

6. What are the top five most contrasting songs on your playlist? 

When you have both metals and nasyeeds in your playlist... It’s like what Wali called ‘tomat’ (red--tobat maksiat). All those fucking and shitting and hell, to praising The Lord and acknowledging your penitence and baper-ing; repeating over and over and over and over... 

8. If you could make just ONE change to this world, what would it be and why? 

Erase the notion of witches (wow, I’m feeling like Madoka; ups, spoiler alert). Can I wish for immortality? 

9. If you could wake up tomorrow and be fluent in three additional languages, which would you choose? 

Quenya, Parseltongue, aaaaannddd SIMLISH, YEAH! Have you listened to Katy Perry’s Last Friday Night sung in gibberish--I mean--Simlish? You really should! 

11. What are the top five movies to make you cry? 

Hello Ghost 

The Green Mile 

Hachi: A Dog’s Tale 

You’re the Apple of My Eye 

Miracles in Cell No. 7 

Yes, I’m such a crybaby. Hello Ghost and The Green Mile made me ugly the most. 

12. What’s the scariest nightmare you’ve ever had? Describe it in detail. 

Uh... overslept and missed exams. Good thing they were just dreams! 

13. Would you rather raise 25 children or have the chance of ever having children taken away? Why? 

WHY SHOULD I OPT FOR RAISING 25 CHILDREN?! AIN’T NOBODY HAD TIME (AND MONEY) FOR THAT. 

17. If you had to lose one of the five senses, which would you choose and why? 

Rather than senses, it’s probably better to discard emotions. 

21. If your life was about to become like Cheaper by the Dozen and you were going to be saddled with twelve children, what would you name six girls and six boys? 

Let’s say those children were orphans taken care by me. I’d happily give them the names of fictional characters! Before I familiarize you with my kids, let me introduce myself first: Karlisha “Kirun” Runa Niephaus, the caretaker and the custodian, along with Raine Virginia Sage and Damuron ‘Raven’ Schwann Oltorain. 

(Boy) Vandesdelca ‘Van’ Musto Fende The big brother of Tear. As the result of his upbringing as an orphan at early age, as well as being the oldest in the orphanage, he became precocious, looking after his sister in their parents’ absence and willing to help the caretakers attending the other children while also struggling on his study. He was an amiable fellow and well-respected throughout the orphanage. Currently in the last year of senior-high and busy preparing himself for a law school. 

(Girl) Mystearica ‘Tear’ Aura Fende  Van’s baby sister who adored him dearly. She had grown into somewhat a wallflower; a shrinking violet. Although shy around people, Tear was a girl with a strong moral compass, never quivered to defend her friends from bullies. Like her brother, she had a beautiful, melodious voice that had brought her to become a choir member in both the town’s church, alongside Van, and her school. Currently a seventh-grader. 

(Boy) Ffamran ‘Balthier’ mied Bunansa Both dashing and quick-witted, Balthier was the conspicious of all. His charm and eloquence could easily impress anyone he met, thus making him the most popular kid around. Albeit a bit self-centered at times, Balthier could show his altruitic side, especially when it came to his bestfriend’s affairs, Ramza. Currently a ninth-grader and a valuable player of his school’s basketball team. 

(Boy) Ramza Lugria Beoulve A boy who survived from a wildfire that burned an entire village, including his parents, his beloved sister Alma, and his bestfriend Delita Heiral. His meek and tender disposition clicked perfectly with Balthier’s smug and jaunty manner, therefore creating a bridge of trust between them. Ramza had an eye for world history, spending most of his time in the library to read books and write essays. Currently a ninth-grader and established a close relationship with the history teacher Goffard Gaffgarion. 

(Boy) Edgar Roni Figaro Sabin’s older twin brother who was an electronics hobbyist and a gamer. He was the technician around the house, repairing the appliances and, sometimes, modifying them. Knowing very well that he had insufficient funds to begin with, he befriended Cid Del Norte Marquez and worked at the latter’s workshop as a part-timer. Though a geek at heart, Edgar didn’t constrain himself as a mere geek; he was surprisingly flirtatious, but to no avail. Currently an eleventh-grader. 

(Boy) Sabin Rene Figaro   Edgar’s younger twin brother. Unlike his prudent and erudite twin, Sabin was quick-tempered and straightforward, and excelled at physical activities, particularly martial arts. Under the tutelage of his karate master Cyan Garamonde, Sabin achieved black-belt in a no-time and had won many tournaments. Of all their differences, he and his brother shared the same unflappable determination and ambitions. Currently an eleventh-grader.

(Girl) Estellise “Estelle” Sidos Heurassein Cute, courteous, and bright; Estelle clearly caught everyone’s attention, but still being humble as she looked up to Philia. She was one of those bibliophiles who could even recite various passages from heart. After the incident involving her two bestfriends, Yuri Lowell and Flynn Scifo, Estelle promised herself to become a splendid doctor, thus leading her to be studious, hoping to obtain a scholarship. Currently a tenth-grader, a model student, and a member of the science club. 

(Girl) Margarita “Rita” Blastia Mordio A curious prodigy with an IQ of 160; however, lacked of social competence. She liked to correct people whose perceptivity was wrong, which inadvertently annoyed them unbeknownst to her. Rita was close to Raine’s little brother Genis due to their similar level of intelligence and close age, and to Estelle who always welcomed her presence. Currently a fifth-grader. 

(Boy) Genis Kloitz Sage The genius younger brother of caretaker Raine whose brain power could disparage the grown-ups’. Even as a child, he could solve his sister’s undergraduate math problems and sometimes engaged in Edgar’s projects. Due to his superior intellect, he demonstrated repellent disposition and was cynical towards others, but would greatly respect everyone with the same intelligence as him. Currently a sixth-grader and had a crush on his P.E. teacher Presea Combatir. 

(Girl) Rutee Atwight Katrea An upbeat, tomboyish lass with misunderstandable attitude. Having a firm moral sense yet being irascible at the same time, Rutee could easily pick a fight with anyone she deemed erroneous. Despite this shrewish demeanor, she was in fact solicitous and attentive towards her close relations. Due to the hapless circumstances, Rutee became eager to earn money, working as anything as her employer wanted her to be. Currently an eighth-grader. 

(Girl) Philia Clemente Felice Like your everyday bespectacled girl, Philia was smart, genteel, and naive; pretty much a foil to Rutee. A devout Christian, she highly regarded her belief and attended the church every week. Through her science teacher Batista Diego, nature and chemical experiments had greatly interested her as she aimed to be a chemist in the future. Currently an eleventh-grader, a model student, and the chairwoman of the science club.

(Girl) Rydia Asura Mist The youngest and newest in the orphanage, being five years in age. She was rescued by the sailors Cecil Harvey and Kain Highwind from ship drowning, a disaster that killed her mother and developed her fear of waterbody. She loved animals dearly as she often visited the town’s farm and pet house with the company of one of the caretakers. 

25. What’s the most frightening thing you’ve ever seen in your life? 

Failures. 

26. Name five books you think everyone should read and give a brief synopsis for each. 

Too lazy for the synopsis. Just check them out on GoodReads: 

The Murder of Roger Ackroyd (by Agatha Christie)  Lemme proudly present one of Christie’s masterpieces. I personally found this more exquisite than And Then There Were None. 

A Short History of Nearly Everything (by Bill Bryson)  I know Sagan’s Cosmos and Hawking’s The Brief History of Time are popular as hell, but hell... they were published in the 80′s (but still gold though, you really should check them out). We need newer ones and Bryson’s is certainly the best--for me, at least, at this time--in elaborating big history and the development of science. 

Why Evolution Is True (by Jerry A. Coyne)  A nifty allusion for Darwin’s The Origin of Species. No. Don’t protest. Dawkins probably produces more of this kind of books than Coyne does and, of course, is far more popular than any evolutionary biologists alive. Dawkins is a brilliant writer and all, but Coyne has the apt for making the theory easier to comprehend. 

Little Women (by Louisa M. Alcott)  Still the best bildungsroman. Ever. 

Speaker for the Dead (by Orson S. Card)  Sci-fi, philosopy, anthropology, politics, religion; all in one. Yes. I’m such a weirdo to enjoy the second book far more than the first one. 

27. Do you believe one can fall out of love? 

It’s a fact. Why bother asking anyway. 

28. What are your three favourite sounding words? 

Peculiar  Don’t you think the word ‘peculiar’ has such a peculiar pronunciation? 

Halcyon  Archaic one, yes. So old-fashioned that Kirun--who fancies classics--is indulged by its subliminal beauty. Moreover, it was used as the title of a Bleach’s chapter: ‘Goodbye, Halcyon Days’. Aren’t ya romantic, Orihime? 

Preposterous I like to shout out this word--in my solitude, of course--whenever expressing my disbelief. 

31. List the seven deadly sins in order of the one you feel you commit the most to the one you feel you commit the least. 

Pride, greed, wrath, envy, gluttony, sloth, then lust. 

32. What’s your current desktop picture? 

46. What’s your favourite ever television commercial? 

49. What’s the most romantic thing anyone has ever said to you? 

“Kirun kan pacarnya aku.” -- by some girl 

51. Name five facts that the vast majority of people won’t know about you. 

I’m a girl (see? I knew you’d be surprised). 

Clearly not a fujoshi. What? You guys don’t believe me? Fine then. 

Though having [too] many guy friends, all of my bestfriends are girls; which are, of course, very few in numbers. 

Yes, I’m very aware that I love Gaara so dearly, but I’m still normal too, you know, since I had crushes in real life. And they were boys. I know, I know, I’m so gay, right? Wait, what am I exacly; male of female? 

Contrary to popular belief, I’m actually a piiiipp who wishes to openly express my opinions and matters without worrying any prejudice nor distressing the ones I love. 

54. Share five goals you want to complete in the next 30 days.

Sing Asterisk (of Orange Range’s) fluently. This one’s freaking hard. 

Read more than ten books. 

Write at least a short story. My imagination has been dormant these days. Inspirations, I summon thee! 

Survive without snacks and confectionaries. Kirun, you can do this! 

Yes. For one more time. Survive. 

58. State eight facts about your body.

I have all the necessities of human being. 

Oh, except my appendix had been removed. 

Thank goodness the tail remains vestigial. 

I’m getting fatter (don’t kill me, people). 

A bit taller than average. 

Pale as Suzanna-on-action. 

My nails aren’t neatly trimmed. 

I hate to admit this, but... my nose is... flat--annoyingly flat that even my cute, golden-hearted but veracious little sister pointed, “Sis, is your nose always that tabular?” WHY LIL SIS WHY?! 

60. Are you allergic to anything? If so, what? 

Romantic love. Sure I do not resist to read or watch romance, but if it happens directly to me... NO. PLEASE. STAY OUT OF THE LINE, MISTER/MISS. 

61. Describe yourself in one word/sentence? 

“Tetapi sesederhana-sederhana cerita yang ditulis, dia mewakili pribadi individu (...)“ -- Jejak Langkah (by Pramoedya A. Toer) 

63. Share five facts about your childhood. 

Can I write it in quotes?

“It was the best of times, it was the worst of times.” 

“If you don’t imagine, nothing ever happens at all.” 

“We need never be ashamed of our tears.”

“And now that you don’t have to be perfect, you can be good.” 

“It’s no use going back to yesterday, because I was a different person then.” 

71. Name five people who are famous who you find attractive.

John and Hank Green (I really can’t choose between those two), 

Matthew Macfadyen (best Mr. Darcy ever!),  

Mark Ruffalo (husky voice and wistful countenance, how I love those combination), 

Kim Rae-won (probably the only Korean actor that I find cute), and 

Eddie Redmayne (HOW CAN YOU PLAY NEWT WITH SO MUCH CUTENESS?! HOW CAN YOUUUU!!!). 

81. Share five facts about your best friend(s). 

Most of them are humans. 

One is the embodiment of integrated-circuits. 

Some are ailurophile. 

Few are bibliophile. 

None is pedophile, gladly. 

82. What’s the most superficial characteristic you look for in a partner?

Has to be the opposite sex. Duh. 

83. Share five ways to instantly win your heart. 

Are you Gaara? If not, well... screw you.  

88. Give a description of the person you dislike the most. 

We share the same room. We share the same clothes. We share the same food. We share the same body. We share the same mind. 

91. If food was people, who would be your best friend, your life partner, your enemy, and your ex? 

Best friend: okonomiyaki and curry ramen. 

Life partner: mom’s seared, chilli scallops. 

Enemy: pare. 

Ex: instant noodles. 

[biofunmy]

YouTube’s Newest Far-Right, Foul-Mouthed, Red-Pilling Star Is A 14-Year-Old Girl

What does a 14-year-old girl dressed in a chador have to say on YouTube to amass more than 800,000 followers?

How about this: “I’ve become a devout follower of the Prophet Muhammad. Suffice to say, I’ve been having a fuck ton of fun. Of course, I get raped by my 40-year-old husband every so often and I have to worship a black cube to indirectly please an ancient Canaanite god — but at least I get to go to San Fran and stone the shit out of some gays, and the cops can’t do anything about it because California is a crypto-caliphate.”

Or how about, simply, “Kill yourself, faggot.”

Yes, if you want a vision of the future YouTube is midwifing, imagine a cherubic white girl mocking Islamic dress while lecturing her hundreds of thousands of followers about Muslim “rape gangs,” social justice “homos,” and the evils wrought by George Soros — under the thin guise of edgy internet comedy, forever.

Actually, don’t imagine it. Watch it. It’s already here.

The video is called “Be Not Afraid,” and it may be the clearest manifestation yet of the culture the executives of Alphabet’s video monster are delivering to millions of kids around the world, now via children incubated in that selfsame culture. To understand just how bad things have gotten on the platform, you need to see it for yourself.

Users — and more importantly to YouTube, advertisers — have over the past year started to hold the platform accountable for enabling the exploitation of children and exposing them to disturbing content. But this video reveals an entirely different way the platform is harming kids: by letting them express extreme views in front of the entire world. This is what indoctrination looks like when it’s reflected back by the indoctrinated.

A 20-minute, unbroken, and hyperarticulate tirade ostensibly about ignoring criticism online, “Be Not Afraid” stars a high school freshman from the Bay Area who goes by the name Soph on YouTube. (She edits as well as scores the videos, which she says are comedic.) Through videos like these, she’s become a rising star — with more than 800,000 followers — in the universe of conspiracy theorists, racists, and demagogues that owes its big bang to YouTube.

The video platform for years has incentivized such content through algorithms favoring sensational videos, and, as recent reporting has revealed, has deliberately ignored toxic content as a growth strategy.

Soph’s scripts, which she says she writes with a collaborator, are familiar: a mix of hatred toward Muslims, anti-black racism, Byzantine fearmongering about pedophilia, tissue-thin incel evolutionary psychology, and reflexive misanthropy that could have been copied and pasted from a thousand different 4chan posts. Of course, it’s all presented in the terminally ironic style popularized by boundary-pushing comedy groups like the influential Million Dollar Extreme and adopted of late by white supremacist mass shooters in Christchurch and San Diego.

(Soph is even more explicitly hateful on Discord, the gaming chat app, where she recently admitted to writing under the username “lutenant faggot” that she hoped for “A Hitler for Muslims” to “gas them all.”)

By now, we’re used to this stuff coming from grown men — some of whom have even used the platform as a launching pad for political aspirations. But Soph is a child. Despite the vitriol of her words and her confidence in delivering them, she’s still just a 14-year-old kid. And hearing this language lisped through braces, with the odd word mispronounced as if read but never before said, is clarifying.

Think of Jonathan Krohn, the conservative child prodigy who addressed the Conservative Political Action Conference in 2009, at age 13. Today he’s a freelance journalist who writes about extremism for liberal magazines, and has disowned his past views. Or think of Lynx and Lamb Gaede, who became media sensations as 11-year-old white nationalist twin pop singers in the mid-aughts. Today they’ve renounced racism and taken up marijuana legalization activism. Part of being a young person, maybe especially for a rhetorically gifted one, is testing out ideas and identities — even ones we later find anathema. That’s not to excuse anything Soph says; but it is to say children often don’t understand the weight of the words they use. (Neither Soph nor her father responded to requests for comment.)

Interviews with Soph and asides in her videos reveal a young person whose identity is obviously still being formed. She didn’t start as a politics caster but, predictably, as a profane 9-year-old (9!) game streamer called LtCorbis. Influential YouTubers Pyrocynical and Keemstar promoted her early work, which ripped on YouTube culture and the indignities of being a fifth-grader instead of people of color and liberals. (A 2016 Daily Dot story about her bore the unintentionally profound headline “This sweary, savvy, 11-year-old gamer girl is the future of YouTube.”) In more recent videos, Soph discloses a health issue that kept her out of class for long stretches. She confesses to being unhappy in school. She talks about a move from New York to California. She identifies by turns as “right-wing” and “anarcho-capitalist.” She’s 14, precocious, isolated, and pissed off, a combination that has produced a lot of bad behavior over the years, but not all of it monetized through preroll ads and a Patreon, and not all of it streamed to millions.

YouTube’s kid problem is well-known. From disturbing auto-generated cartoons to parents who playact violence with their children for clicks to a network of users exploiting videos of children for sexual content, the company has consistently failed at protecting the young users who are its most valuable assets. But Soph’s popularity raises another, perhaps more difficult question, about whether YouTube has an obligation to protect such users from themselves — and one another.

Of course, that’s partially the job of parents, a fact Soph pointed out in a recent video while addressing people alarmed by her content.

“I’m wondering why they’re concerned with what I say instead of being concerned with the parents who let their kids watch me,” she said.

It’s unclear how much Soph’s own parents know about her videos. Internet sleuths have figured out details about her parents’ lives, one of whom Soph has claimed voted for Hillary Clinton. In a recent interview, Soph said that her parents have never had a serious conversation with her about the politics of her videos, though she did respond angrily when a reporter attempted to contact her dad.

But the powers of parents over children who live online are limited. And YouTube has taken no ownership over what is happening to kids who grow up inhaling its trademark stench of bigotry, conspiracy, and nihilism. Now the kids, or the smart ones anyway, seem to know it. Indeed, YouTube’s own incompetence and lack of quality is one of Soph’s recurring themes; she acknowledges owing her fame to them.

“The fact that I was 11 and could easily follow the commentary formula should have been a sign that the standards for the genre were terribly low,” she said in the same interview.

Last month, after YouTube deactivated comments on her videos — the platform disabled comments on all videos with children in response to an outcry over the aforementioned network of exploitation — Soph uploaded a 12-minute video in which she seemed to be daring the platform to suspend her, knowing full well that it wouldn’t.

“Susan, I’ve known your address since last summer,” Soph said, directly addressing YouTube CEO Susan Wojcicki. “I’ve got a Luger and a mitochondrial disease. I don’t care if I live. Why should I care if you live or your children? I just called an Uber. You’ve got about seven minutes to draft up a will. … I’m coming for you, and it ain’t gonna be pretty.”

A far-right child comedian threatening to murder the executive of the video site that has made her famous, for trying to protect her from pedophiles: the state of YouTube in 2019. (YouTube did not offer a comment for this story.)

Indeed, one of Soph’s messages seems to be that in a world where the adults who have grown rich through technology took the implications of that technology seriously, she wouldn’t exist. She’s a problem, she seems to be saying, of YouTube’s own making.

“You could beg me kicking and screaming to stop disseminating the ideas I believe in, and it wouldn’t make a fucking difference,” Soph says at the end of “Be Not Afraid,” in a passage in which she seems to drop her shtick, if only for a moment. “Not only am I inoculated to that bullshit, most of Gen Z is too. Millennials grew up with MTV and nowadays watch Colbert. We, on the other hand, grew up with the internet, so we have no centralized source of information that controls what we think. We filter out the truth for ourselves; we’re not lazy. No one is brainwashing kids. Kids are simply learning from having free access to information, and there’s nothing you can do about it.”

The ultimate target of “Be Not Afraid” is, finally, adults: people who just don’t get why social justice discourse is meaningless and co-optable, why school can’t compare to YouTube, why mass murder can be funny. People who have enough experience to know better. She’s sure that adults are selfish and stupid, that the people with the most power over her life are making it up as they go along, just like she is. When you look at the adults who have gotten rich off the platform that created Soph, she isn’t completely wrong. She’s been publishing on YouTube for years with no consequence other than becoming famous.

Sahred From Source link Technology

from WordPress http://bit.ly/30lr9SD via IFTTT

[demitgibbs]

Anna Paquin Talks ‘Tricky’ LGBTQ Representation, Understated Queer Roles

Enough with the labels: Anna Paquin just wants LGBTQ people to be people. As star and executive producer of Pop TV’s Flack, Paquin’s celeb-PR spin doctor, Robyn, fascinates because her hyper-controlling nature at work is in sharp contrast to her out-of-control family life. Robyn’s bisexuality is a mere footnote.

It’s 2019. This is the queer-is-human moment Anna Paquin has been waiting for. This explains why, though she plays a lesbian character, she appreciates that her love interest (Holliday Grainger) in her upcoming film Tell It to the Bees, out May 3, eludes any kind of fixed sexual identity.

Openly bisexual herself, Paquin came out in 2010 in a public service announcement for Cyndi Lauper’s Give a Damn campaign, dedicated to LGBTQ equality. At the time, she was portraying southern heroine Sookie Stackhouse on HBO’s vampire queerfest True Blood; she married her co-star, Stephen Moyer, that same year. (The couple has 6-year-old twins, Poppy and Charlie Moyer.)

But the 36-year-old actress’ precocious career in film and TV goes back decades to her childhood, when, at just 11 years old, she won the best-supporting actress Oscar for her portrayal of Flora McGrath in 1993’s The Piano. Cross-genre roles abounded: Fly Away Home (1996), She’s All That (1999), Almost Famous (2000) and three X-Men films. In 2017, Paquin starred as a detective investigating the disappearance and murder of a trans woman (Sadie O’Neil) on the short-lived drama series Bellevue.

Nearly 10 years later, Paquin still gives a damn – about inclusivity in her work, entertainment as a way to open close-minded minds, and actors who are forced out of the closet in the name of representation.

In Flack, there’s a gay scandal, a trans scandal and a lesbian sex tape, and that’s all within the first three episodes. I mean, this show was made with the LGBTQ community in mind, right?

I mean, not intentionally. It was just made more with, you know, the human race in mind. And that includes all of us (laughs). There’s humor and drama to be found in all of our communities, but, yes, there is definitely something to be had for our LGBTQ community in the world of Flack. Although a lot of people ask me if that was me, because obviously it’s important to me, but that was just always part of the fiber of the show in those episodes, and that was our writers. I wish I could take more credit for that, but I really can’t.

As an actress, are you drawn to stories that tell our stories?

Yes, but I’m also just drawn to really amazing writing, and I think especially when there are stories that are our stories but are also written in a beautiful and eloquent way, that, to me, is a twofer. I mean, I love the fact that Robyn being bisexual just kind of casually drops in; it’s not a thing because it shouldn’t be a thing. And I feel like so many movies and shows, if they have characters who are leading anything other than heteronormative lives, it’s made into a big deal. It really shouldn’t be and isn’t. So I do love that part of the show.

It sounds like you don’t think we’re at a place where LGBTQ characters can simply live within the fabric of the world, and maybe that’s because LGBTQ people can’t just yet either.

Are we? (Laughs) I mean, I think everyone has different experiences. I really think it depends what part of the country you’re in and what kind of community you grow up in. Look, I’m a non-American-born Canadian-Kiwi living in liberal California, so my experience of the world as a bisexual woman is probably incredibly different from someone who lives in – not to single anyone out in particular, but let’s say a less progressive state. So I feel like we still have a ways to go, but we’re obviously going in the right direction.

Where do you stand on the debate that exclusively LGBTQ actors should be playing LGBTQ roles?

In casting all the characters in this show it would never have occurred to us to look at anyone other than trans actors for trans roles. I frankly did not ask the actress who plays Robyn’s ex-girlfriend because I also don’t really think it’s any of my business. What’s tricky around some of that stuff is that, while I think representation of people within our community is incredibly important, I think it’s also putting a lot of pressure on people to come out in a public way that they may or may not be ready to do yet. I don’t think it’s anyone’s place to force people out of the closet, to be like, “Hey, you shouldn’t be playing this role because you’re not gay.” Well, what if that person is but isn’t comfortable coming out? Where does that leave us as far as representation, but also respecting people’s own timeline for their own lives and what they’re comfortable with? I think it’s incredibly complicated.

Was there pressure on you when you came out?

If there was, I certainly didn’t experience any. Everyone in my private life knew. It wasn’t a big deal. But also, things aren’t a big deal if you don’t make a big deal of them.

I’d like to note that your show Bellevue represented the trans community in a very real way. I know you really bonded on the set with actress Sadie O’Neil, who played a trans character.

What an awesome, smart, talented actress and writer and poet. She was incredibly patient with all of us who know less about her community asking quite specific questions as far as how we’re representing the community on the show. Because the script, you can do a good approximation, but if that’s not the life that you have lived then, obviously, you’re not gonna get all of it right. And being patient with the fact that we had taken a good stab at it, but then wanting to actually get it right, was something we were really very grateful for, and we obviously very much deferred to her on a lot of it.

In what ways was the show and being with Sadie on set a teaching moment for you?

It’s one thing to conceptually support all members of our rainbow community, it’s another thing to pretend that you know what somebody else’s life experience is like, and I don’t pretend to know things I don’t know. So, to me, getting more information is something that I just think you can’t have enough of. And the more you know, the more helpful you can be. It literally had never even occurred to me that feminism could exclude trans women. That, to me, just doesn’t make any sense, and that’s a huge deal and kind of blew my mind. You know, these kinds of conversations that end up casually happening because you’re working with them and getting to know them, it’s like, “Wow, I feel a bit embarrassed that I didn’t know that and I’m glad I know that now.”

Does it mean something to you that a role such as Robyn or your role as Dr. Jean in Tell It to the Bees is creating greater visibility for the LGBTQ community?

Absolutely … absolutely! Yes. I think that people learn about people they don’t understand through entertainment. That’s one of our most powerful tools for bringing people out of their own bubble and their own world, because if you see somebody depicted on screen you sort of are emotionally connected to that person and their story and their life, and maybe it can change people’s minds about how they sort of snap-judge other people and their sexual orientation or gender identity or whatever it may be. I think entertainment is a very powerful tool for that, so yeah, it’s very meaningful to me.

When were you first aware that entertainment had that kind of power?

Honestly, not really until I was a grown up because when I was a teenager just, you know, doing my thing and going to school, I wasn’t massively conscious of it. Becoming a parent I think also makes you more aware of that, the cause and effect when your kid watches something and repeats something back that you’re like, “We don’t speak like that.” You get to see a very tiny microcosm of what its effect is, just even on little humans, because they don’t know. But it’s all around us. That’s not to say that all entertainment that I do (laughs) can be watched by all people of all ages, because I do some stuff that is, obviously, very adult-oriented, but it has made me think about what kind of things I put out there into the world.

In Tell It to the Bees, you play your first explicitly queer character in film.

In a film, yes. But my character in (2017’s sci-fi anthology TV series) Electric Dreams was also a lesbian.

Why did it take so long?

It wasn’t really a conscious thing. A lot of times with choices it kind of depends on what material comes your way and when. I hadn’t happened to have a proper lesbian love story of any sort really come my way prior to that. I think I was probably somewhat obvious casting for that (laughs). But it’s a beautiful love story, it’s set in the 1950s in Scotland, my character is adopted, basically got outed as a teenager and left her community under quite traumatic circumstances. (She) falls in love with another outsider, a young mother in the community who is – we don’t ever really put a label on her sexuality, but it’s probably more on the bisexual-to-straight-but-falls-in-love-with-the-human. It’s about what they bring out in each other.

I’m surprised to hear that you haven’t been offered more queer film roles.

I was on a TV show for, like, the entire time surrounding (coming out), so I wasn’t really available to do anything else (laughs). And also, True Blood reps hard on the Pride front.

How aware were you of what True Blood was doing for the LGBTQ community at the time it aired?

Vampires coming out of the coffin: the metaphor was pretty specific! (Laughs) And also just the sexual fluidity of all the vampires. Obviously, we would have to have been living under a rock not to have felt the support and love from the community.

Do you hear from gay fans about Flack on Twitter?

In general, yes. Whenever I’ve done work that has any representation of our community, yes, I always end up hearing really cool, nice feedback from people who are appreciative of conversations being easier to have because they’re happening in the public eye.

from Hotspots! Magazine https://hotspotsmagazine.com/2019/04/11/anna-paquin-talks-tricky-lgbtq-representation-understated-queer-roles/ from Hot Spots Magazine https://hotspotsmagazine.tumblr.com/post/184109329145

[hotspotsmagazine]

Anna Paquin Talks ‘Tricky’ LGBTQ Representation, Understated Queer Roles

Enough with the labels: Anna Paquin just wants LGBTQ people to be people. As star and executive producer of Pop TV’s Flack, Paquin’s celeb-PR spin doctor, Robyn, fascinates because her hyper-controlling nature at work is in sharp contrast to her out-of-control family life. Robyn’s bisexuality is a mere footnote.

It’s 2019. This is the queer-is-human moment Anna Paquin has been waiting for. This explains why, though she plays a lesbian character, she appreciates that her love interest (Holliday Grainger) in her upcoming film Tell It to the Bees, out May 3, eludes any kind of fixed sexual identity.

Openly bisexual herself, Paquin came out in 2010 in a public service announcement for Cyndi Lauper’s Give a Damn campaign, dedicated to LGBTQ equality. At the time, she was portraying southern heroine Sookie Stackhouse on HBO’s vampire queerfest True Blood; she married her co-star, Stephen Moyer, that same year. (The couple has 6-year-old twins, Poppy and Charlie Moyer.)

But the 36-year-old actress’ precocious career in film and TV goes back decades to her childhood, when, at just 11 years old, she won the best-supporting actress Oscar for her portrayal of Flora McGrath in 1993’s The Piano. Cross-genre roles abounded: Fly Away Home (1996), She’s All That (1999), Almost Famous (2000) and three X-Men films. In 2017, Paquin starred as a detective investigating the disappearance and murder of a trans woman (Sadie O’Neil) on the short-lived drama series Bellevue.

Nearly 10 years later, Paquin still gives a damn – about inclusivity in her work, entertainment as a way to open close-minded minds, and actors who are forced out of the closet in the name of representation.

In Flack, there’s a gay scandal, a trans scandal and a lesbian sex tape, and that’s all within the first three episodes. I mean, this show was made with the LGBTQ community in mind, right?

I mean, not intentionally. It was just made more with, you know, the human race in mind. And that includes all of us (laughs). There’s humor and drama to be found in all of our communities, but, yes, there is definitely something to be had for our LGBTQ community in the world of Flack. Although a lot of people ask me if that was me, because obviously it’s important to me, but that was just always part of the fiber of the show in those episodes, and that was our writers. I wish I could take more credit for that, but I really can’t.

As an actress, are you drawn to stories that tell our stories?

Yes, but I’m also just drawn to really amazing writing, and I think especially when there are stories that are our stories but are also written in a beautiful and eloquent way, that, to me, is a twofer. I mean, I love the fact that Robyn being bisexual just kind of casually drops in; it’s not a thing because it shouldn’t be a thing. And I feel like so many movies and shows, if they have characters who are leading anything other than heteronormative lives, it’s made into a big deal. It really shouldn’t be and isn’t. So I do love that part of the show.

It sounds like you don’t think we’re at a place where LGBTQ characters can simply live within the fabric of the world, and maybe that’s because LGBTQ people can’t just yet either.

Are we? (Laughs) I mean, I think everyone has different experiences. I really think it depends what part of the country you’re in and what kind of community you grow up in. Look, I’m a non-American-born Canadian-Kiwi living in liberal California, so my experience of the world as a bisexual woman is probably incredibly different from someone who lives in – not to single anyone out in particular, but let’s say a less progressive state. So I feel like we still have a ways to go, but we’re obviously going in the right direction.

Where do you stand on the debate that exclusively LGBTQ actors should be playing LGBTQ roles?

In casting all the characters in this show it would never have occurred to us to look at anyone other than trans actors for trans roles. I frankly did not ask the actress who plays Robyn’s ex-girlfriend because I also don’t really think it’s any of my business. What’s tricky around some of that stuff is that, while I think representation of people within our community is incredibly important, I think it’s also putting a lot of pressure on people to come out in a public way that they may or may not be ready to do yet. I don’t think it’s anyone’s place to force people out of the closet, to be like, “Hey, you shouldn’t be playing this role because you’re not gay.” Well, what if that person is but isn’t comfortable coming out? Where does that leave us as far as representation, but also respecting people’s own timeline for their own lives and what they’re comfortable with? I think it’s incredibly complicated.

Was there pressure on you when you came out?

If there was, I certainly didn’t experience any. Everyone in my private life knew. It wasn’t a big deal. But also, things aren’t a big deal if you don’t make a big deal of them.

I’d like to note that your show Bellevue represented the trans community in a very real way. I know you really bonded on the set with actress Sadie O’Neil, who played a trans character.

What an awesome, smart, talented actress and writer and poet. She was incredibly patient with all of us who know less about her community asking quite specific questions as far as how we’re representing the community on the show. Because the script, you can do a good approximation, but if that’s not the life that you have lived then, obviously, you’re not gonna get all of it right. And being patient with the fact that we had taken a good stab at it, but then wanting to actually get it right, was something we were really very grateful for, and we obviously very much deferred to her on a lot of it.

In what ways was the show and being with Sadie on set a teaching moment for you?

It’s one thing to conceptually support all members of our rainbow community, it’s another thing to pretend that you know what somebody else’s life experience is like, and I don’t pretend to know things I don’t know. So, to me, getting more information is something that I just think you can’t have enough of. And the more you know, the more helpful you can be. It literally had never even occurred to me that feminism could exclude trans women. That, to me, just doesn’t make any sense, and that’s a huge deal and kind of blew my mind. You know, these kinds of conversations that end up casually happening because you’re working with them and getting to know them, it’s like, “Wow, I feel a bit embarrassed that I didn’t know that and I’m glad I know that now.”

Does it mean something to you that a role such as Robyn or your role as Dr. Jean in Tell It to the Bees is creating greater visibility for the LGBTQ community?

Absolutely … absolutely! Yes. I think that people learn about people they don’t understand through entertainment. That’s one of our most powerful tools for bringing people out of their own bubble and their own world, because if you see somebody depicted on screen you sort of are emotionally connected to that person and their story and their life, and maybe it can change people’s minds about how they sort of snap-judge other people and their sexual orientation or gender identity or whatever it may be. I think entertainment is a very powerful tool for that, so yeah, it’s very meaningful to me.

When were you first aware that entertainment had that kind of power?

Honestly, not really until I was a grown up because when I was a teenager just, you know, doing my thing and going to school, I wasn’t massively conscious of it. Becoming a parent I think also makes you more aware of that, the cause and effect when your kid watches something and repeats something back that you’re like, “We don’t speak like that.” You get to see a very tiny microcosm of what its effect is, just even on little humans, because they don’t know. But it’s all around us. That’s not to say that all entertainment that I do (laughs) can be watched by all people of all ages, because I do some stuff that is, obviously, very adult-oriented, but it has made me think about what kind of things I put out there into the world.

In Tell It to the Bees, you play your first explicitly queer character in film.

In a film, yes. But my character in (2017’s sci-fi anthology TV series) Electric Dreams was also a lesbian.

Why did it take so long?

It wasn’t really a conscious thing. A lot of times with choices it kind of depends on what material comes your way and when. I hadn’t happened to have a proper lesbian love story of any sort really come my way prior to that. I think I was probably somewhat obvious casting for that (laughs). But it’s a beautiful love story, it’s set in the 1950s in Scotland, my character is adopted, basically got outed as a teenager and left her community under quite traumatic circumstances. (She) falls in love with another outsider, a young mother in the community who is – we don’t ever really put a label on her sexuality, but it’s probably more on the bisexual-to-straight-but-falls-in-love-with-the-human. It’s about what they bring out in each other.

I’m surprised to hear that you haven’t been offered more queer film roles.

I was on a TV show for, like, the entire time surrounding (coming out), so I wasn’t really available to do anything else (laughs). And also, True Blood reps hard on the Pride front.

How aware were you of what True Blood was doing for the LGBTQ community at the time it aired?

Vampires coming out of the coffin: the metaphor was pretty specific! (Laughs) And also just the sexual fluidity of all the vampires. Obviously, we would have to have been living under a rock not to have felt the support and love from the community.

Do you hear from gay fans about Flack on Twitter?

In general, yes. Whenever I’ve done work that has any representation of our community, yes, I always end up hearing really cool, nice feedback from people who are appreciative of conversations being easier to have because they’re happening in the public eye.

from Hotspots! Magazine https://hotspotsmagazine.com/2019/04/11/anna-paquin-talks-tricky-lgbtq-representation-understated-queer-roles/

[cynthiajayusa]

Anna Paquin Talks ‘Tricky’ LGBTQ Representation, Understated Queer Roles

Enough with the labels: Anna Paquin just wants LGBTQ people to be people. As star and executive producer of Pop TV’s Flack, Paquin’s celeb-PR spin doctor, Robyn, fascinates because her hyper-controlling nature at work is in sharp contrast to her out-of-control family life. Robyn’s bisexuality is a mere footnote.

It’s 2019. This is the queer-is-human moment Anna Paquin has been waiting for. This explains why, though she plays a lesbian character, she appreciates that her love interest (Holliday Grainger) in her upcoming film Tell It to the Bees, out May 3, eludes any kind of fixed sexual identity.

Openly bisexual herself, Paquin came out in 2010 in a public service announcement for Cyndi Lauper’s Give a Damn campaign, dedicated to LGBTQ equality. At the time, she was portraying southern heroine Sookie Stackhouse on HBO’s vampire queerfest True Blood; she married her co-star, Stephen Moyer, that same year. (The couple has 6-year-old twins, Poppy and Charlie Moyer.)

But the 36-year-old actress’ precocious career in film and TV goes back decades to her childhood, when, at just 11 years old, she won the best-supporting actress Oscar for her portrayal of Flora McGrath in 1993’s The Piano. Cross-genre roles abounded: Fly Away Home (1996), She’s All That (1999), Almost Famous (2000) and three X-Men films. In 2017, Paquin starred as a detective investigating the disappearance and murder of a trans woman (Sadie O’Neil) on the short-lived drama series Bellevue.

Nearly 10 years later, Paquin still gives a damn – about inclusivity in her work, entertainment as a way to open close-minded minds, and actors who are forced out of the closet in the name of representation.

In Flack, there’s a gay scandal, a trans scandal and a lesbian sex tape, and that’s all within the first three episodes. I mean, this show was made with the LGBTQ community in mind, right?

I mean, not intentionally. It was just made more with, you know, the human race in mind. And that includes all of us (laughs). There’s humor and drama to be found in all of our communities, but, yes, there is definitely something to be had for our LGBTQ community in the world of Flack. Although a lot of people ask me if that was me, because obviously it’s important to me, but that was just always part of the fiber of the show in those episodes, and that was our writers. I wish I could take more credit for that, but I really can’t.

As an actress, are you drawn to stories that tell our stories?

Yes, but I’m also just drawn to really amazing writing, and I think especially when there are stories that are our stories but are also written in a beautiful and eloquent way, that, to me, is a twofer. I mean, I love the fact that Robyn being bisexual just kind of casually drops in; it’s not a thing because it shouldn’t be a thing. And I feel like so many movies and shows, if they have characters who are leading anything other than heteronormative lives, it’s made into a big deal. It really shouldn’t be and isn’t. So I do love that part of the show.

It sounds like you don’t think we’re at a place where LGBTQ characters can simply live within the fabric of the world, and maybe that’s because LGBTQ people can’t just yet either.

Are we? (Laughs) I mean, I think everyone has different experiences. I really think it depends what part of the country you’re in and what kind of community you grow up in. Look, I’m a non-American-born Canadian-Kiwi living in liberal California, so my experience of the world as a bisexual woman is probably incredibly different from someone who lives in – not to single anyone out in particular, but let’s say a less progressive state. So I feel like we still have a ways to go, but we’re obviously going in the right direction.

Where do you stand on the debate that exclusively LGBTQ actors should be playing LGBTQ roles?

In casting all the characters in this show it would never have occurred to us to look at anyone other than trans actors for trans roles. I frankly did not ask the actress who plays Robyn’s ex-girlfriend because I also don’t really think it’s any of my business. What’s tricky around some of that stuff is that, while I think representation of people within our community is incredibly important, I think it’s also putting a lot of pressure on people to come out in a public way that they may or may not be ready to do yet. I don’t think it’s anyone’s place to force people out of the closet, to be like, “Hey, you shouldn’t be playing this role because you’re not gay.” Well, what if that person is but isn’t comfortable coming out? Where does that leave us as far as representation, but also respecting people’s own timeline for their own lives and what they’re comfortable with? I think it’s incredibly complicated.

Was there pressure on you when you came out?

If there was, I certainly didn’t experience any. Everyone in my private life knew. It wasn’t a big deal. But also, things aren’t a big deal if you don’t make a big deal of them.

I’d like to note that your show Bellevue represented the trans community in a very real way. I know you really bonded on the set with actress Sadie O’Neil, who played a trans character.

What an awesome, smart, talented actress and writer and poet. She was incredibly patient with all of us who know less about her community asking quite specific questions as far as how we’re representing the community on the show. Because the script, you can do a good approximation, but if that’s not the life that you have lived then, obviously, you’re not gonna get all of it right. And being patient with the fact that we had taken a good stab at it, but then wanting to actually get it right, was something we were really very grateful for, and we obviously very much deferred to her on a lot of it.

In what ways was the show and being with Sadie on set a teaching moment for you?

It’s one thing to conceptually support all members of our rainbow community, it’s another thing to pretend that you know what somebody else’s life experience is like, and I don’t pretend to know things I don’t know. So, to me, getting more information is something that I just think you can’t have enough of. And the more you know, the more helpful you can be. It literally had never even occurred to me that feminism could exclude trans women. That, to me, just doesn’t make any sense, and that’s a huge deal and kind of blew my mind. You know, these kinds of conversations that end up casually happening because you’re working with them and getting to know them, it’s like, “Wow, I feel a bit embarrassed that I didn’t know that and I’m glad I know that now.”

Does it mean something to you that a role such as Robyn or your role as Dr. Jean in Tell It to the Bees is creating greater visibility for the LGBTQ community?

Absolutely … absolutely! Yes. I think that people learn about people they don’t understand through entertainment. That’s one of our most powerful tools for bringing people out of their own bubble and their own world, because if you see somebody depicted on screen you sort of are emotionally connected to that person and their story and their life, and maybe it can change people’s minds about how they sort of snap-judge other people and their sexual orientation or gender identity or whatever it may be. I think entertainment is a very powerful tool for that, so yeah, it’s very meaningful to me.

When were you first aware that entertainment had that kind of power?

Honestly, not really until I was a grown up because when I was a teenager just, you know, doing my thing and going to school, I wasn’t massively conscious of it. Becoming a parent I think also makes you more aware of that, the cause and effect when your kid watches something and repeats something back that you’re like, “We don’t speak like that.” You get to see a very tiny microcosm of what its effect is, just even on little humans, because they don’t know. But it’s all around us. That’s not to say that all entertainment that I do (laughs) can be watched by all people of all ages, because I do some stuff that is, obviously, very adult-oriented, but it has made me think about what kind of things I put out there into the world.

In Tell It to the Bees, you play your first explicitly queer character in film.

In a film, yes. But my character in (2017’s sci-fi anthology TV series) Electric Dreams was also a lesbian.

Why did it take so long?

It wasn’t really a conscious thing. A lot of times with choices it kind of depends on what material comes your way and when. I hadn’t happened to have a proper lesbian love story of any sort really come my way prior to that. I think I was probably somewhat obvious casting for that (laughs). But it’s a beautiful love story, it’s set in the 1950s in Scotland, my character is adopted, basically got outed as a teenager and left her community under quite traumatic circumstances. (She) falls in love with another outsider, a young mother in the community who is – we don’t ever really put a label on her sexuality, but it’s probably more on the bisexual-to-straight-but-falls-in-love-with-the-human. It’s about what they bring out in each other.

I’m surprised to hear that you haven’t been offered more queer film roles.

I was on a TV show for, like, the entire time surrounding (coming out), so I wasn’t really available to do anything else (laughs). And also, True Blood reps hard on the Pride front.

How aware were you of what True Blood was doing for the LGBTQ community at the time it aired?

Vampires coming out of the coffin: the metaphor was pretty specific! (Laughs) And also just the sexual fluidity of all the vampires. Obviously, we would have to have been living under a rock not to have felt the support and love from the community.

Do you hear from gay fans about Flack on Twitter?

In general, yes. Whenever I’ve done work that has any representation of our community, yes, I always end up hearing really cool, nice feedback from people who are appreciative of conversations being easier to have because they’re happening in the public eye.

source https://hotspotsmagazine.com/2019/04/11/anna-paquin-talks-tricky-lgbtq-representation-understated-queer-roles/ from Hot Spots Magazine https://hotspotsmagazin.blogspot.com/2019/04/anna-paquin-talks-tricky-lgbtq.html

[joechappel]

My Heroes

Growing up, I had the typical set of heroes for a young American black boy: MLK, Malcolm X, my father, my grandaddies, my great grandfather Homer Chappel, my pastor...many many black men were on that list. And through a young child’s eyes, I saw these men as spotless. They were unblemished and they all fit perfectly on the pedestal I built for them, and even though I didn’t really know who I was (at all) I knew what an ideal example of greatness looked like, thanks to them.

I was a very smart and precocious child, so I started to learn a lot about the world, long before I should have - however I was smart enough not to let adults know how much I knew. I recognized my perceived innocence as a commodity that I could use to my advantage for as long as people would realistically look at me that way. But the truth is I began to learn about my heroes and just how human they all were at an early age. Of course, as a teenager, it feels like this kind of epiphany is unique to your time and your own existence. No other generation could possibly have learned that heroes are nothing more than people who have done great things. It obviously sounds laughable and silly now, but the arrogance of youth is deceitful and wholly besotting.

Then as a young adult I went away to school and spent my time around other kids who were just as smart and over-confident as me. We learned just how imperfect the world and all of its inhabitants really were and the choice between good and bad, right and wrong, noble and abhorrent seemed so simple to us. Choices to be made were so easy. All we had to do was measure our heroes against the mental checklist of good and evil we had acquired in all of our higher education and enlightenment, and choosing sides would be so obvious, we wondered why the world was still so broken. Why hadn’t all the other generations figured out what we had already figured out in our young adulthood? We would be the generation to finally get it all figured out and remade to reflect our better humanity. Lol, as the saying goes, there is nothing more dangerous than a little education.

All my heroes fell victim to this youthful brand of morality. As I learned that MLK, Malcolm, my father and the generations before were all just men, it became easy to dismiss them as heroes. And the world was more than happy to help me make such conclusions. When it comes to the character assassination of black men, there is no greater research assistant than the world. It has an endless supply of information (more than one could ever consume in a single lifetime) to support such a thesis. If you will listen, you can always catch an earful of ugliness concerning the character of a brother.

And now in my middle age, I find myself transformed by an even newer kind of epiphany. All of those men have become my heroes once again - not because I have dismissed their shortcomings and blinded myself to their sins and all the things I learned about them in my youth. What has shifted is my own understanding of what it truly means to be a hero. It has taken the experience of my own shortcomings, my own sins, my own brokenness to grasp that there are some truly remarkable men who are capable of accomplishing great things, even in the midst of all that makes them painfully human. It is only through a longer life and a broader perspective and a greater self-awareness that I possess the level of empathy required to see these men as men and as heroes simultaneously. This is the gift of time and life experience - yes, the wrinkles and the grays do come with a few fringe benefits.

When someone falls down, falls short, betrays even their own ethics...these things do not categorically disqualify them from being heroes. We don’t lose our ability to achieve greatness and to surpass our own limits because we are confronted with our imperfections. I know this is a controversial belief I hold, because it does not align with the instant and absolute brand of judgment that guides so much of our collective public discourse these days. But I’m opting to allow my moral compass and not the ever-changing zeitgeist to lead me on this one, guys.

I guess I’m writing this today, on MLK day, because I have lived through decades of people telling me about his promiscuous ways and I have seen how eager people get to destroy the images of one’s heroes. In my experience, this only becomes more amplified when the hero is a black man, and the amplification becomes exponential when the hero and the admirer are both black men.

Normally I try to be a lot more inclusive in my writing, so that as few people as possible feel excluded or incapable of relating to my words, but today is really a conversation as a black man to other black men, especially young black men who may be learning for the first time that their heroes are mere mortals. I want to invite you to accept wherever you are in your process, realizing that it’s ok to change your mind later in your life. I only hope you live long enough to see your role models and your fathers and your grandfathers re-emerge someday, into the light of admiration and courageousness - BECAUSE they are men, not in spite of or in lieu of the fact that they are men.

I know who MLK was.

I know who Malcolm was.

I know who my father is.

I know who my friends and neighbors are.

I don’t need to be constantly reminded about what they said and did that does not align with political correctness. Most of these revelations are recycled and rehashed year after year after year, and I have learned to take them with a grain of salt.

I’m ok with the good and the bad. We brothers are still accomplishing great things, even in a world that would see us fall down, fail, become addicted, get shot, beat our partners and each other, become incarcerated, ignore our health, be silenced and muted, and ultimately die much too soon. Even in a world that would happily erase us from existence, Black men are handling their business and dragging each other along until we can each stand up unaided, reach back and grab someone else to drag along.

I’m thinking of MLK today as the complete man he was, not as a caricature (good or bad) but as a complete and complex human being, and it makes me even more in awe of his accomplishments. I’m so grateful for his powerful example and I’m prayerful that I can gain greater acceptance of my own shortcomings and not see them as impediments to my own potential to do great things.

Don’t let anyone tell you he wasn’t a great man, young brothers.

Happy MLK Day

[psychotherapyconsultants]

Don’t Take It Personally: How to Handle Criticism

Author don Miguel Ruiz who penned the best seller, The Four Agreements, sagely says, “Don’t take anything personally. Nothing others do is because of you. What others say and do is a projection of their own reality, their own dream. When you are immune to the opinions and actions of others, you won’t be the victim of needless suffering.”

Easier said than done at times. While it doesn’t mean that we are exempt from correction and re-direction, those who feel a need to hurl critical words often do so because of their own insecurities and world view. What happens when those harsh words echo from within our own cranium?

Scott Kalechstein Grace is a California based singer songwriter whose music is inspired by his personal psycho-spiritual journey, some of which has included addiction and recovery. His song parodies are like that of Weird Al Yankovich. Scott refers to one of the most insidious self-deprecating addictions as ‘critiholism,’; indeed, one to which I and many others I know fall prey.  It reflects the paradoxical poster I saw near the time clock of a place I worked many years ago, that commands, “The beatings will continue until morale improves around here.” I laugh still and use it as an example for my clients who are harshly self-critical. They nod and smile knowingly.

I notice my own chattering mind running amok with thoughts such as, “You should know better, since you are a therapist with a Master’s degree.”  “How come you keep falling into that same pattern of taking on other people’s issues and feeling a need to fix, save, heal, cure and kiss the boo boos to make them all better?” “You need to practice what you preach.” “What will it take for you to finally have it all together?” This last one is said with an exasperated sigh.

What has become increasingly clear is that I still have work to do in that area and that when I am most concerned about what others think about me and especially the work I hold dear, my inner critic becomes embodied in someone else.  Many of the professional hats I wear, beyond that of social worker/therapist are rather unconventional and revolve around the use of healthy, non-sexual touch by consent in the form of a workshop, as well as Laughter Yoga (a modality that is deemed legitimate such that NASW (National Association of Social Workers) offered 16 CEUs (Continuing Education Units) when I took the weekend training.

Over the past few months, whenever I have posted something about either of these topics on social media, inevitably, someone I know professionally has chimed in about how ‘strange, odd, weird, creepy and silly,’ these interests are. This person indicated that they are not befitting the professional they know me to be and can’t understand how I could see them as valid methods of teaching skills in the areas of communication, relationships, boundary setting, assertiveness, childlike playfulness, trust and safely stretching comfort zones. I am clear that although they are not therapy, they do have therapeutic value. Whenever I have attempted to explain the validity and value, the response has been to dig in more deeply, repeating the criticism. When I have suggested that this person step back and re-evaluate the way they express their objection, I am met with a response that sounds like, “When you place something in a public venue, you can expect some disagreement, or do you only want people to agree with everything you say?” It had me pausing and asking a few well-chosen questions: How important is this person’s opinion?  Am I not solid enough in my own estimation of what I do that I put too much stake in what others think? Why do I feel a need to defend my position?

The answers I came up with harken back to the erroneous belief that I had to make everything look good and I needed to be seen as competent and confident to combat childhood asthma and pediatric problems. I was viewed as precocious by the adults in my life and didn’t want to disappoint anyone. It was my own version of ‘the empress has no clothes,’ while I clutched at the invisible garments that were supposed to cover my emotional vulnerability. These days I am far more willing to be transparent, knowing that by doing so, I am exposing myself to external critique.

I am learning to soothe the aspect of myself that I refer to as ‘Perfectionista,’ who seeks approval, both internally and externally.

When inquiring of others how they face their chattering monkey minds, their responses were as diverse as those responding:

“I use deep breathing and the conscious redirection of thoughts and images to focus on. Positive affirmation and moving the body also helps.”

“Essential oils/blends. Yoga works great. YouTube meditations a short walk, a conversation with a colleague.”

“Lots of internal dialogue, reminding myself of my survival rate thus far (100%), all that I have accomplished (more than the average bear), and that I am clever and smart and can solve anything life throws at me, because so far, I have, and the best predictor of future behavior/ is past behavior/outcome. And I take naps.”

“Counting my breaths till my mind calms. Yoga before sitting is essential for me (the whole point of it right!)”

“I am not great at meditation, but I am one heck of a visualizer. That is my surest way of quieting monkey mind. I visualize anything that holds my interest at the moment, and then I see it in exquisite detail. Voila, all quiet upstairs. And it has the added benefit of creating something in my mind that may actually get translated in the future to a piece of art, some home decor, a garden design, etc.”

“Meditation and journal writing.”

“Turn it into a song.”

“I allow the words… Then I add, and I love that about you. I started this years ago and it’s quieted my inner critic. I still do it occasionally, this week it looked like this. “You have gained so much weight… And I love that about you.”

“Sit in my car and look at lake at Peace Valley Park.”

“Meditation, mantra and Vedic astrology.”

“Let it go let it go let it go.”

“Always get a good night’s sleep and do integral yoga and meditation.”

“Learn to observe the chatter rather than having ownership. “

“Review, acknowledge release!!”

“When my chattering mind is going, I consciously change my thoughts, it’s the one thing I do have control over in my life. This could be singing a song, doing a chore or an activity and redirect my thoughts.”

“I can shut mine off at will.”

“I go for a run or bike ride.”

“Of course, we need the little fellow, but when I feel it is getting in the way more than helping, I take a deep breath and send it to bed.”

“Yes… Creative Activity… Physical Activity… Social Activity… Meal Activity.”

“I redirect my mind to gratitude.”

I am willing to tame my inner critic.

from World of Psychology https://psychcentral.com/blog/archives/2018/01/03/dont-take-it-personally-how-to-handle-criticism/

[positivepsychologyinterventions]

Don’t Take It Personally: How to Handle Criticism

Author don Miguel Ruiz who penned the best seller, The Four Agreements, sagely says, “Don’t take anything personally. Nothing others do is because of you. What others say and do is a projection of their own reality, their own dream. When you are immune to the opinions and actions of others, you won’t be the victim of needless suffering.”

Easier said than done at times. While it doesn’t mean that we are exempt from correction and re-direction, those who feel a need to hurl critical words often do so because of their own insecurities and world view. What happens when those harsh words echo from within our own cranium?

Scott Kalechstein Grace is a California based singer songwriter whose music is inspired by his personal psycho-spiritual journey, some of which has included addiction and recovery. His song parodies are like that of Weird Al Yankovich. Scott refers to one of the most insidious self-deprecating addictions as ‘critiholism,’; indeed, one to which I and many others I know fall prey.  It reflects the paradoxical poster I saw near the time clock of a place I worked many years ago, that commands, “The beatings will continue until morale improves around here.” I laugh still and use it as an example for my clients who are harshly self-critical. They nod and smile knowingly.

I notice my own chattering mind running amok with thoughts such as, “You should know better, since you are a therapist with a Master’s degree.”  “How come you keep falling into that same pattern of taking on other people’s issues and feeling a need to fix, save, heal, cure and kiss the boo boos to make them all better?” “You need to practice what you preach.” “What will it take for you to finally have it all together?” This last one is said with an exasperated sigh.

What has become increasingly clear is that I still have work to do in that area and that when I am most concerned about what others think about me and especially the work I hold dear, my inner critic becomes embodied in someone else.  Many of the professional hats I wear, beyond that of social worker/therapist are rather unconventional and revolve around the use of healthy, non-sexual touch by consent in the form of a workshop, as well as Laughter Yoga (a modality that is deemed legitimate such that NASW (National Association of Social Workers) offered 16 CEUs (Continuing Education Units) when I took the weekend training.

Over the past few months, whenever I have posted something about either of these topics on social media, inevitably, someone I know professionally has chimed in about how ‘strange, odd, weird, creepy and silly,’ these interests are. This person indicated that they are not befitting the professional they know me to be and can’t understand how I could see them as valid methods of teaching skills in the areas of communication, relationships, boundary setting, assertiveness, childlike playfulness, trust and safely stretching comfort zones. I am clear that although they are not therapy, they do have therapeutic value. Whenever I have attempted to explain the validity and value, the response has been to dig in more deeply, repeating the criticism. When I have suggested that this person step back and re-evaluate the way they express their objection, I am met with a response that sounds like, “When you place something in a public venue, you can expect some disagreement, or do you only want people to agree with everything you say?” It had me pausing and asking a few well-chosen questions: How important is this person’s opinion?  Am I not solid enough in my own estimation of what I do that I put too much stake in what others think? Why do I feel a need to defend my position?

The answers I came up with harken back to the erroneous belief that I had to make everything look good and I needed to be seen as competent and confident to combat childhood asthma and pediatric problems. I was viewed as precocious by the adults in my life and didn’t want to disappoint anyone. It was my own version of ‘the empress has no clothes,’ while I clutched at the invisible garments that were supposed to cover my emotional vulnerability. These days I am far more willing to be transparent, knowing that by doing so, I am exposing myself to external critique.

I am learning to soothe the aspect of myself that I refer to as ‘Perfectionista,’ who seeks approval, both internally and externally.

When inquiring of others how they face their chattering monkey minds, their responses were as diverse as those responding:

“I use deep breathing and the conscious redirection of thoughts and images to focus on. Positive affirmation and moving the body also helps.”

“Essential oils/blends. Yoga works great. YouTube meditations a short walk, a conversation with a colleague.”

“Lots of internal dialogue, reminding myself of my survival rate thus far (100%), all that I have accomplished (more than the average bear), and that I am clever and smart and can solve anything life throws at me, because so far, I have, and the best predictor of future behavior/ is past behavior/outcome. And I take naps.”

“Counting my breaths till my mind calms. Yoga before sitting is essential for me (the whole point of it right!)”

“I am not great at meditation, but I am one heck of a visualizer. That is my surest way of quieting monkey mind. I visualize anything that holds my interest at the moment, and then I see it in exquisite detail. Voila, all quiet upstairs. And it has the added benefit of creating something in my mind that may actually get translated in the future to a piece of art, some home decor, a garden design, etc.”

“Meditation and journal writing.”

“Turn it into a song.”

“I allow the words… Then I add, and I love that about you. I started this years ago and it’s quieted my inner critic. I still do it occasionally, this week it looked like this. “You have gained so much weight… And I love that about you.”

“Sit in my car and look at lake at Peace Valley Park.”

“Meditation, mantra and Vedic astrology.”

“Let it go let it go let it go.”

“Always get a good night’s sleep and do integral yoga and meditation.”

“Learn to observe the chatter rather than having ownership. “

“Review, acknowledge release!!”

“When my chattering mind is going, I consciously change my thoughts, it’s the one thing I do have control over in my life. This could be singing a song, doing a chore or an activity and redirect my thoughts.”

“I can shut mine off at will.”

“I go for a run or bike ride.”

“Of course, we need the little fellow, but when I feel it is getting in the way more than helping, I take a deep breath and send it to bed.”

“Yes… Creative Activity… Physical Activity… Social Activity… Meal Activity.”

“I redirect my mind to gratitude.”

I am willing to tame my inner critic.

from World of Psychology http://ift.tt/2qibK7h via IFTTT