The Red Rain Grand Finale: Sound & Color!

Sam Ayers strikes again, my friends.

For the final time, I'm presenting an expansion of the Red Rain series with one more novel, for which Sam has designed her most eye-popping cover art yet. This seventh Red Rain novel is an epic, apocalyptic finale, the culmination of not only Alex Snow's story, but also those of Gabe Snow, Fionna Lee, and Gideon Cabrera. These four will be the primary First-Person Smartass POV characters in the final Red Rain novel: Sound & Color.

Behold, the gloriously rainbow cover! I've got a few characters who'd be proud to see this image helping represent their saga...

Let's just say that for this finale, we're gonna have the most amazing combination of Star Wars and the Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse (or, more gender-neutrally, Four Riders, as they'll be three men and one woman) you didn't know you needed. So those four - Alex, Gideon, Fionna, and Gabe - will be the leads of the story, and that means I'm gonna be keeping them alive. But anyone else might just be fair game...or I could invent new characters to serve as canon fodder and keep my darlings safe from further harm. You never know.

The plan now: finish Black Mirror and its time-traveling shenanigans (I'm approaching 75K words on that one as of today, and I keep expanding the story every day, so this really could be my first 100K+ manuscript ever!). Then I'll get started on Peppermint and its ass-kicking Christmas of corporate warfare, followed by the hellish nightmare of Orange Crush, and then finally, Sound & Color.

If these stories don't get turned into movies under the Disney umbrella alongside Marvel and Lucasfilm's properties, I will have failed as a reader, writer, and fanboy.

Until then, enjoy these two collages of all seven covers as crafted, of course, by Sam Ayers. One for your phone wallpaper...

 

...and one for your laptop.

Coming Soon: Orange Crush

Going to church again, even if it was just for Christmas Eve, made me feel depressed and stuck in Hell for another hour I could have spent writing instead. So I made the most of it and thought about what else to write for the Red Rain series. My brainstorming continued into Christmas Day, while my parents drove us to my grandparents' house, and the hellish visions continued. Hellish visions that wouldn't fit into Black Mirror or Peppermint.

So I've decided to extend the series, again, to six books.

Up to now, I've planned five...

...but now the hellish visions will come to you in the sixth of these books, entitled Orange Crush. Yes, like the R.E.M. song. If you've never heard it before, go look it up, and good luck keeping it out of your head.

And for your viewing pleasure, here's the brand-new cover of Orange Crush, as designed, of course, by Sam Ayers.

Looks beautiful and beachy and sunset-y, huh? But it's one of my books, so you know it's almost certainly...not.

My plan for this one is to have the narration split between Alex (of course) and Kelly Jackson. I was a little torn between making Kelly the co-narrator of this book, and choosing Harris, 'cause I love Harris and haven't written nearly enough in his POV. But in the end, Kelly, whose POV I've never written in before, won out, because she's going to really be leading the charge...but the details of that charge, I can't reveal here without spoiling material in Black Mirror and Peppermint that hasn't been written yet!

Until then, enjoy all six Red Rain series covers and get ready for some serious awesomeness to come in Orange Crush!

And once again, a huge thank you to Sam Ayers for designing all these magnificent covers.

Red Rain: Goodbye Dani, Hello Gideon

When I wrote the first draft of Red Rain, I ended it by committing a pretty serious writing foul - I gave in to my fans and their shippers' demands. At the time, the most popular ship among my Wattpad and Goodreads fanbase (this was back when I put my stories on GR as well, although I've long since taken those atrocious early drafts down) was Danex - that is, Dani Cabrera and Alex Snow. So I gave the fans what they wanted by pairing these young angels together...at first. After writing about ten chapters of Blue Monday, I decided that the chemistry between Dani and Alex was sorely lacking, and I wasn't feeling it. So I took a break from Blue Monday. When I came back to that first draft, I also went into Red Rain and changed its ending so Alex would get together instead with Rachel (who's since been renamed Juliet), and I paired Dani with Luca, who's established from the get-go to have a huge crush on her.

And yet, I still wasn't satisfied with the chemistry I was cooking up for Dani and Luca. First and foremost, the way I put them together at the end of Red Rain is, frankly, awful, because I've shoehorned them together and passed it off as Alex playing matchmaker in-universe. Even when looking at their improved, more seasoned relationship dynamic in Blue Monday, something about Dani and Luca being together still bothered me. This only increased when I changed Dani's appearance to match not so much Shailene Woodley playing MJ Watson (which is what you can still see in the drafts published on Wattpad) as Shailene Woodley playing Tris Prior in Insurgent. Especially with the super-short hair, which Woodley wore very well in that movie, IMHO. It suits her, just like it suits Dani and makes her look more beautiful. Luca agreed with me, too. ;)

But making Dani more androgynous opened up another line of thoughts in my head. Is she a girl, a cisgender female? Or is she something else? For a while, I considered the possibility of her having a non-binary gender identity. One of my best friends has a few connections within this community - a number of her Twitter friends, I've noticed, publicly identify as agender, prefer "they" pronouns, etc. I considered asking her to help introduce me to these friends of hers so I could ask them research questions, but ultimately this never happened.

I think the main reason for that was because I found another alternative that, in my brain, suited Dani's identity much better.

Last year, one of my favorite authors came out as transgender. Since then, Zac Brewer has made a few videos talking about his transition process (among other important news), which I've watched with interest. You can watch one of those videos below. (grab some popcorn if you wanna watch the whole thing, it's over half an hour long!)

More recently, I got into the works of Laura Lam, and after following her on Twitter, I eventually discovered - through one of her retweets, as I remember - the profile of trans author Elliot Wake. If you don't follow him on Twitter or Instagram, you should - he's quite the character.

Looking into these accounts of trans life made me realize the truth about my character, the one who was the original Red Rain protagonist, the one who divided opinions most sharply.

Dani Cabrera is transgender too.

And, starting today, I'm finally making the much-needed edits to Red Rain to incorporate this storyline after so many months of it percolating in my head. These edits will have a massive snowball effect on the sequels, to the point where I'll need to severely edit those as well very soon, especially if I plan to put the first draft of the fourth and final novel in the series, Black Mirror, on Wattpad. For one thing, the Luca/Dani ship will be no more, because both of them prefer girls and after the end of Red Rain, Dani will no longer identify as a girl. He'll begin transitioning, changing his pronouns to match, and he'll also change his name to Gideon Cabrera. (For most of Red Rain, however, he'll continue to use his original name and pronouns, until he publicly comes out near the end of the book.) He'll continue to have POV chapters in Blue Monday, but with far less focus on his love life and far more focus on the positive impact of his transition. I'm also considering writing a novella set between Red Rain and Blue Monday in which Gideon details his transition more greatly, but that's just a glimmer in my mind yet, and I won't be able to write it without further research anyway.

Gideon's gender identity will also form an essential part of his story, with his mother's refusal to accept him for who he is (and his frustration at being forced to live as a girl) helping provide the impetus for him running away to Heaven. At first, he'll be afraid that, in a conservative angel culture, he'll be shunned and bullied for daring to live as a trans boy. But Gideon goes to school in a town on the border between Heaven and Hell, and he lives in the Bay Area, which in Heaven is every bit as LGBT-friendly as its Earthen counterpart. He'll have no problem being accepted by his peers - and his father, who's much less devoutly religious than his (estranged) wife, will support him wholeheartedly.

As for Gideon's mother, Leah Cabrera (who's already universally loathed by my readers, and for good reason), her politically-incorrect treatment of Gabe in Blue Monday (where she refuses to refer to him as anything but "[Alex's] boy-fucking brother") will take on a whole new dimension now. Her anti-LGBT bigotry will be fueled by not only her conservative mindset, but also her own visceral rejection of Gideon - whom, when she eventually meets him, she won't even recognize, nor will she acknowledge that he's her child when he tells her to her face who he is.

I'm not trans myself, so the biggest responsibility for me is to ensure that I write Gideon with the utmost respect towards the trans community. That's a job I'm sure I can perform admirably, because for me, it's not just about Gideon's gender identity. At its core, this new story direction is about the freedom of being yourself - and the best version of yourself you can be. Or, looking at yourself in the mirror and saying to yourself, as Elliot Wake might, "This isn't even my final form."

To cap this all off, I'll give you a set of freshly-made Rinmaru avatars to illustrate the change.

Dani Cabrera, pre-transition.

Gideon Cabrera, being himself.

While Dani goes the bleached-blonde route, Gideon wears his hair in its natural color. The subtle skin tone difference is the result of Red Rain taking place in autumn and winter while Blue Monday takes place in spring and early summer. As for the difference in wing size, Dani, having lived on Earth and having been forced to hide her wings, isn't used to flight. Gideon, on the other hand, is free to work out - and that includes building up his wing muscles.

With all that in mind, I'm going forward on this mission, giving Gideon the development he needs.

Till next time, Pinecones...

#FeedTheRightWolf

Remember - Denis Leary is always watching. Always.

Lady Smith

For the umpteenth time in my life, I've found myself crushed out on a beautiful and unattainable woman. (Well, maybe not so unattainable, but given my perfect undateability...) And in this case, I've felt the need to express myself about it through poetry. Though this may be an angsty practice, I still hope you Pinecones, at least, approve of my latest piece of work, the title of which is not meant to reflect any real names. I hereby present my latest lovesick geekboy poem: "Lady Smith."



Like Stiles, I've fallen for a lovely strawberry blonde.
Like Lydia, she's a unique character indeed.

She studies the same subjects I do in school,
But not for the same reasons.
She wants to put her English-major skills to work
As a teacher, like many of our fellows.
For now, she works in a metalwork place,
A modern-day blacksmith's shop.
Hence my secret nickname for her...

"Lady Smith."

While she doesn't get to do much metalwork
(Because her boss is fettered by outdated sexism
And treats her like the SSR treats Agent Carter),
She still knows her way around a welding torch.
She wants to teach?
Maybe someday she'll teach me to weld.
I doubt I'd get much use out of that particular skill.
But still, wouldn't it be cool?
Fire and metal, all together.

There's what sets us apart.
She has plans for her future.
Legitimate, practical, focused.
As for me?
When I grow up, I'll be a starving writer
But only if I get to make my own way
And those who say they know better
Stop interfering with every aspect of my life.
After all, it's not work if you enjoy it.
Practicality just isn't my forte, I'm afraid.

Then there's the distance between us
On this earthly plane.
Twice a week, we share two classes in a row.
Four hours in all.
Outside that time, though, we live an hour apart
When the traffic's good.
It's not like either of us will ever have a chance
To drive to the other one's house,
Pick the other one up,
And go to the movies or dinner
Or a concert, likely my first.

Which, frankly, sucks.

After all, part of the reason why I've been single all my life
Is because I've never liked a girl my parents would approve of.
My parents would like Lady Smith.
It's rare that I've felt this way for someone about whom
I wouldn't be afraid to bring home.
A real Gwen to my Peter.
An Allison to my Scott.
A Fionna to my Alex.
An Evan to my Jay.

And she's got great taste in pop culture,
A major plus for me.
Already she's motivated me to try something new
With a lovely, intricate winged logo.
She knows not my fascination with wings and flight.
She knows not the titanic attack she's waged on my heart.

Best of all, we're both tired of where we live.
It's the weather. Her town's too hot.
Mine is what Goldilocks would call "just right,"
But I call "just wrong."
Wherever she goes,
She could bring her future teaching credentials.

She wants to move north.
Anywhere north.
So do I, because far in the northern wastelands
Lies a storied place where I can potentially meet my goals.
I could write the magical stories of archers and speedsters
And zombies and fallen angels
And survivors of the apocalypse.

Together, we could achieve so much.
Now, there's just one problem...
As much as I've learned about her already,
I don't know if she's free
To test the waters with me.
Or if she even wants to try
With one as inexperienced as I.

Dare I ask her out?

Cage

It's been a couple of years since I wrote this poem - which got me extra credit in my poetry class way back in spring 2014. That's a time I just wanna remember so much (especially 'cause it's when the world was first graced with the presence of the Ghost Stories album from Coldplay and The Amazing Spider-Man 2), even if I was in a bit of a dark place at the time. And because I'm feeling like I'm in a dark place tonight (even with the aid of The Peanuts Movie), I've decided to share my old poem with you guys to see if it helps me feel better. It probably will - usually, it does.

So here's my work, called "Cage."


Would you keep a cat in a cage?
Not all the time.
Not if you don't want him to get fat
And useless and lazy.
Kitty needs his playtime
So he can stay cute and cuddly.

Would you keep a wolf in a cage?
Maybe, if he were tame.
Maybe he can be trained
To chase squirrels from your apple tree.
But can he ever be truly happy
Living in comfortable captivity?

Would you keep a cobra in a cage?
Could be for research.
Could be to see if you could make
A less dangerous beast.
Just know that you run the risk
Of getting venom slung your way.

Would you keep a human in a cage?
Only if he deserved it.
Only if it would keep the world safe
From his different personality.
But what if his crime is nothing more
Than being a misfit?

There's a reason why the expression is
"Pacing like an animal in a cage."
You are controlling a soul
Yearning to be let free.
Maybe he needs a little leash.
Would you give the human some slack?

The Analog Kid: Alex and Fionna Meet For The First Time

Recently, my school held a flash fiction contest, with the winning entries being guaranteed certain cash prizes and publication in the school's literary journal. Naturally, I submitted an entry - a short story created from the Red Rain 'verse, never before seen. Naturally, I didn't win any of the top prizes or honorable mentions. (My friend and I agreed that it was because I did my own style and didn't go for the sort of stereotypical MFA-type crap people usually associate with literary journals.)

Now, however, you may read and enjoy this little short story, "The Analog Kid," for yourselves, and discover the new first meeting between Alex Cassar (renamed from Alex Snow - this is what he's named in the final, publication-ready version too!) and Fionna. No longer are they strangers until they meet at the pool - instead, they've known each other since freshman year, allowing them to go into their date in Chapter 3 with built-in attraction and tension already.

Enjoy, my friends!

My brother and I have been pretty lucky in our freshman year. He and I are no longer going to school in our old hometown, where our mixed blood made us perpetual outcasts. Now, Gabe’s enrolled at Castledown Academy in Hell, and he’s finally gotten the chance to mix, mingle, and befriend other demons like himself. As for me, I’m going to a new school as well - Balthazar Academy in Heaven. And I’ve been afforded the chance to make new friends among my fellow angels. So far, I’ve got one. But he’s a damn good one, probably the first other angel to really understand me the same way Gabe does.

Not everything can be sunshine and roses, though.

Like today. It’s our birthday weekend (although the actual day is next Tuesday), and so Gabe suggested I come across town and meet him at his school. Six months have passed since we started school, and I still haven’t seen Castledown yet, so I thought, why not?

Of course, I didn’t anticipate waking up this morning feeling feverish and flu-like.

But I don’t have the flu. What I have is much less serious, but just as annoying and uncomfortable and unavoidable. I’m molting. I keep telling myself it’s just another hurdle in angelic puberty, and I’m not the only one going through this - most other guys in my class are molting too. Sure, I’ll lose all my feathers, and my wings will be as bald and bat-like as Gabe’s, but by June I’ll grow in bigger ones as my wings finally reach full size.

Still...I’d rather just get it over with, honestly. It’s got me not only feverish, but also jumpy, for some reason. Riding the cable car up to Castledown actually gave me something most angels don’t experience - a bout of acrophobia.

But when I get off the cable car and Gabe’s waiting for me, I feel better. Mostly because he greets me with his usual bear hug and says, “Happy early birthday, you cheeky bastard.”

“Back at you, dude.”

He leads me into the building. I’m a bit surprised, but not that much, to see that the layout of Castledown is very, very similar to that of Balthazar. Makes sense - everything in this town is a mirror image of its counterpart in either Heaven or Hell. The only real difference is the colors - whereas Balthazar’s main color is green, Castledown’s is bright blue. “Not very Hellish, is it?” I laugh, pointing at the flags lining the corridor. “It looks like the Earthen sky.”

“Tell me about it.”

“Hi, Gabe!” We both turn to see a girl, about the same height as both of us, waving jauntily. “Oh, who’s this? Is this that angel twin of yours I’ve heard so much about?”

I eyeball Gabe warily. “What have you told her?”

“Only the worst horror stories about you,” Gabe snickers. “Fionna Lee, Alex Cassar.”

“Nice to meet you, Fionna,” I say, holding out my hand to shake.

She looks from me to Gabe, her brown eyes glittering, and bursts out laughing. “You’re such an angel,” she says. “Didn’t he tell you we hug around here?”

I glare at Gabe and aim a fake punch at his shoulder. “Guess not. And he calls me the cheeky bastard.”

“Can’t imagine why,” Fionna laughs. “And hey, he wasn’t kidding. You two really look different. I mean, he’s white and you’re brown...or do you prefer ‘olive?’”

I brush the longest parts of my hair - brown, not blond like Gabe’s - behind my ear. “He told you that too? Did he also say how I like it when girls know nothing about me?”

“Why, ‘cause you’re so mysterious?”

I shrug. “Maybe.”

“Well, O Mysterious One, why don’t you give me a hug like a civilized guy, huh?”

I grin at her and oblige her request. I’m so horrible with talking to girls back in Heaven, but Fionna, maybe because she’s a demon, is a lot easier to talk to. Even if she’s strikingly pretty.

Nothing can go wrong...except for her hug making me lose about half a dozen feathers out the back of my shirt. When she sees this, she lets go of me and really falls over laughing.

“Oh God, I’m sorry!” I blush bright red and bend down to gather up the dark brown primaries scattered around my sneakers.

“Don’t be,” she says when she’s recovered enough breath to talk. “Not the first time a boy’s lost his nerve around me.” She backs away, waving goodbye to me and Gabe. “Happy fifteenth...Feathers!” she laughs before turning on her heel and leaving.

Only when she’s out of sight does Gabe give up restraining his own laughter. I, however, bury my head in my hands and whisper, “Dude...kill me now.”

“No way,” Gabe says. “You haven’t seen my room yet! Come on!” He lays one arm over my shoulders and steers me away. I’m afraid if I look back, I’ll see more of my feathers forming a trail behind us with every step.

The 100: An Open Letter To Jason Rothenberg

***WARNING TO ANYONE ELSE WHO MAY READ THIS: MAJOR SPOILER ALERT***

Dear Mr. Rothenberg,

Recently, I put out my list of the top 5 of everything of 2015, and The 100 (which holds the additional distinction of being the first and only CW show my dad will watch with me, which speaks volumes about its widespread crossover appeal) had no problem making the list. Unfortunately, I've fallen behind by two episodes, but because of the recent internet explosion revolving around last week's episode, I've been completely, utterly unable to avoid the spoilers, so I'm now painfully aware that a favorite character of mine is now dead.

Now, because The 100 has such a dedicated fan base, this isn't my first time getting key plot developments spoiled for me. As such, I'm not as mad about it as I perhaps ought to be. All the madness I've seen appears to be concentrated in other fans and their considerable outrage over Lexa's death.

The purpose of this letter is not to join their ranks and criticize this particular storytelling decision, however. Instead, I'd like to empathize with you and all your writers. I know you probably don't need anyone to come to your defense, but I'd just like to offer my thoughts all the same.

The main objection to Lexa's death, as far as I can see, is that it constitutes an example of not only the infamous "stuffed in the fridge" trope, but also "Bury Your Gays." Yes, those are some pretty unfortunate implications. But as a fan who's really come to appreciate The 100 for its remarkable progressivism, I believe that being a member of a minority shouldn't guarantee a character's survival just because certain people would see it as sexist, homophobic, racist, etc. All over the internet, I've seen people place the message "Gender Doesn't Matter" on their profiles. If that's the case, then it also shouldn't matter whether a dead character is straight, gay, bi, or anywhere in between. If a character's death has a profound impact on not only the fans, but also on that character's loved ones in-universe, then it was written in the best possible way - never mind that there really shouldn't be a "best" way to write a death.

In my own writing, I've killed off several characters myself. Some of these have been women, and some have been LGBT. And yet, so far, I've received little to no backlash about it. It could be that I'm just not high-profile enough for such backlash, or it could be that my works tend to treat death as an extension of life, in much the same way as the TV series Dead Like Me deals with the Mundane Fantastic adventures of its undead reapers, so "dead" characters continue to interact with the living and be vital to the plot.

In any case, the reaction from my readers on my books, Red Rain, Blue Monday, and White Shadows, has been not outrage over "targeting" minorities, but rather grief over the deaths of favorite characters, with their gender, race, and sexual orientation hardly figuring in at all. They understand that it's far less about sinking into any kind of cheap, unjust trope than it is about the fact that these deaths hurt my hero the most, and take him to dark places from which he must fight to return.

One day, I'll publish Red Rain and its sequels, and based on the example I've seen from The 100 (as well as, for instance, the death of Sara Lance on Arrow), I accept that the deaths in this series, once they reach a wider audience, will meet with disgust and disdain from certain pockets of the internet. But I cannot, and will not, change the story just to stave off this kind of negative reaction. I'd like to think my story has teeth, and I will not remove them - because part of creating great works involves sharing our emotions with our readers, viewers, etc. That, of course, includes the grief we experience when popular characters (and products of our fruitful imaginations) die.

Looking forward to catching up on The 100,

Ricky Pine

Why I Write: Freedom Of Love

"We know that we're young

And no shit, we're confused

But will you watch us drown?

What are you so afraid to lose?"

-Arcade Fire, "We Exist"

"What's your problem with religion?"

..."It's not religion itself, it's what people use it for - against other people."

-J.L. Pawley, Generation Icarus: First Flight

When piecing together the histories and personalities of my Red Rain characters Alex and Gabe, it's pretty much an open secret that they're other, better versions of me - and especially other, better versions of Teen Me. Sure, I can look back on some moments of my teenage years fondly, but looking back on myself as a person, perhaps not. I still have trouble looking on myself in a positive light in the present day, and I'd like to think the major reason is this: 

I don't feel free to love.

Why, you might ask? Well, let's get personal here (about myself, I mean.)

Flash back a couple of years to early 2014, when I took my first creative writing class and began finally, in earnest, writing my first complete story, the very earliest drafts of Red Rain. When I thought up Alex and Gabe, almost right from the get-go I knew these twins would be opposites in a lot of key ways. For example, Alex would be dark-haired (and, in more recent drafts not yet available for public consumption, dark-skinned to better reflect his and Gabe's part-Mediterranean blood), and Gabe would be blond. Alex would be introspective and moody, while Gabe would be funny and extroverted. And, perhaps most importantly of all (because I've built so much of the story around it that to change it, as I'm sure my parents would insist I do if they were to become beta readers of mine, would require massive overhauls that I just can't take on), Alex is straight and Gabe is gay.

These, everyone who's read Red Rain knows. Now I'll tell you some of the secret history behind these particular characterization decisions.

Alex and Gabe's opposite orientations were born out of more than just me wanting to emulate the examples of Cassandra Clare, Rick Riordan, Zac Brewer, Andrew Smith, and Michael Grant (and, more recently, Adam Silvera), among others, by including quality LGBTQ representation in my writing. Another, more personal reason was my own adolescent confusion about my sexuality. For about four or five years, starting around...junior year of high school, I think? I was the Q in LGBTQ. For a wide variety of reasons, I was constantly questioning my sexuality. I'd like to think I have a better idea of where I am on the spectrum by now, but back then, I angsted way too much about it. The culmination of said angst came, incidentally, while I was still writing the first draft of Red Rain. In an attempt to finally settle the issue once and for all, I tried coming out as bi, because that was where I saw myself at the time. My parents, of course, were having none of that, not only because of their being Catholic, but also because, in their reasoning, how could I possibly be so sure of such a thing when I'd had zero romantic and/or sexual experience?

Yeah, I know, that's a very stupid thing to say. After all, nobody asks straight people if they've slept with someone of the opposite sex to confirm their sexuality, right? But, unbelievably, it had an actual impact on me, prompting me to do a little soul-searching over the next little while and eventually figuring that any same-sex attraction I had was little more than curiosity, and not the desire to form a committed relationship. I could truly only see myself getting together long-term with a woman. So, as far as the question of what my sexuality is, I consider myself straight, though not exclusively so. That did not, however, stop my experiences from informing a few future story details which I later wrote into Blue Monday, most notably Kyle's explanation of what it was like to come out as bi to his parents:


"Funny thing is, they were like, if I were completely not into girls, they wouldn't like it, but they'd accept it anyway 'cause I was their son and all. But they couldn't wrap their minds around the idea of me going both ways...Hell, I think they were scared of the idea. To think their own son could freely decide which gender he'd sleep with."


Sometimes, parents just don't understand. And what my own parents don't understand is that we humans really need to have the chance to figure out their love lives for themselves, especially when we're teenagers and (like me) young adults.

This is something I've struggled with for a long time - how to get into a loving relationship while retaining parental approval. For the most part, however, I have the feeling this is going to be extremely difficult, if not outright impossible. And this is where religion plays a major role - because while my parents still take their religion pretty seriously (not as much as most, thank God), I no longer do. At this point, I don't go to church willingly anymore - my parents, literally, force me to come with them, even when I've told them countless times that I don't belong there anymore. I go through the motions, and my heart isn't in it anymore. I don't feel that I'm a good Catholic - maybe I never really was. And the main reason why I don't count myself as a religious person anymore is because I've come to associate religion with repression, and especially sexual repression - not only for the LGBTQ community, but for humanity in general. I'm no atheist, however. I still believe in God. But I don't believe that some of the rules people insist on following in His name are really what He intended for our species. Waiting till marriage? I don't think that should be a requirement to get into Heaven. But my parents believe differently, and would probably think so much less of me if I were to take any future relationship of mine sexual. (Never mind that my dad's long since given me "The Talk," I still believe he would judge me just as much as my mom would.) Though it's far from the only factor in my lack of any committed relationships to date, it's one of the most prominent ones. I just don't want to get together with a woman who seems so right for me, only for my neurotic Catholic guilt to rear its ugly head and prevent us from getting intimate if that's the course nature feels is the best one to take.

What this all boils down to is that the gay rights movement focuses on the right to love whomever you love. This, I believe, is a fundamental right for all human beings. This is why I not only write LGBTQ characters, but also write characters who don't feel pressure from their peers and/or their families to not explore their sexuality. This is the wish-fulfillment aspect of my writing (well, that and the fact that everyone in my writing speaks fluent pop-culture references.)

Please, don't take this blog post as a condemnation of all religion. For many of my fellow humans, it's such an essential part of their lives. But it's just not for me. My parents are convinced that it's just a phase because I'm young, and that I might find myself seeking God again when I'm older. But me? I think I've already found God through my writing, and He's not exactly the same one in which I was brought up to believe. He's just...better. More accepting. And perhaps, as God Mode Castiel says on Supernatural...

One little scene, so much impact.

Till next time, Pinecones...

#FeedTheRightWolf

Remember: Denis Leary is always watching. Always.

Starling City Storm: Metahuman Therapy Session

Right now I'm again working on my pettest of pet projects, White Shadows - but today, I spent most of my waking hours thinking about the future of Starling City Storm, because it seems, based on my most dedicated Spidey & Speedy fan's responses, that the story's getting better. And in the future of SCS is a scene where Barry and Peter finally get a chance to talk about their pasts and learn how much they have in common. Especially when it comes to certain childhood tragedies.

I get way too much mileage out of this GIF already.
Judge me.

Dontcrydontcrydontcry...
Okay, now I'm crying. :'(

And now, you can read a brand-new scene, soon to appear in Starling City Storm, in which Barry narrates how he and Peter come to bond over said childhood tragedies. Which begins...now.



Super speed gives me a super metabolism. Super metabolism makes me need to raid Ollie's fridge after everyone else is in bed. God, I thought those days were long behind me, back when I was a lanky, awkward young dude who routinely ate Joe out of house and home and never, ever gained weight. Not that I hadn't tried - I used to hate being so skinny. Teen me looked like a starving, overgrown bird. Or like that guy who plays Tris Prior's brother. Now that I've had a chance to fill out some, though...

Inside the fridge is a wide variety of food and drink to be had. I'm delighted to discover among them a case of Ianto's Soda, a Starling-based brand that used to be sold in Central City but is now very hard to find. Shame - I used to drink their stuff all the time when I was a kid, because they came in fun flavors you literally couldn't find anywhere else.

"Couldn't sleep either, huh?"

Thank God I didn't pick up the soda bottle - I would have dropped it for sure, Peter's surprised me that much. I whirl around and see him standing on the other side of the kitchen island, rubbing his bare forearms and shivering.

"I think your hoodie should be dry by now," I say, pointing to the improvised clothesline Ollie created for us after he brought us to his place. During and after our encounter with Malcolm on Salish Dam, everyone's outer layers got snowed and rained on like nobody's business, so he got a fire going in the fireplace and used the heat to dry our clothes out.

Peter crosses to the clothesline and selects his charcoal-gray hoodie, zipping it up tightly to ward off the chill seeping into the apartment from the rainy night outside.

"Yeah, sleep is pretty hard to come by for me too," he says. "Blame it on my age, or lack thereof. Even when I was normal and powerless, my circadian rhythm had a seriously irregular time signature. Like a Rush song."

"You didn't always have powers?"

"Yeah, yeah, sure. Perish the thought."

The fridge is still open, chilling my backside something fierce, so I quickly grab two bottles of Ianto's and pass one across the island to Peter. "You want it?" I ask.

He turns on a single light above the island and then looks askance at the bottles and the fluorescent green liquid within. "I'm not a Mountain Dew kind of guy, sorry."

"This isn't Mountain Dew," I laugh. "It's green apple soda. My old favorite."

Intrigued, Peter approaches the soda tentatively, like it's a pitbull or something. He opens the bottle, takes a sip, then smiles. "Mmm. Delicious."

"They make it organic and all-natural," I say. "100% fruit juice, real sugar, and clean Washington spring water."

"Why does this not exist in New York?"

"Guess it's just a West Coast thing." I take a seat across the island from Peter. "So, you were saying?"

"What about?"

"About not always having your powers?"

Peter's eyebrows draw together for a moment. "Not much to tell, really," he says. "Basically, what happened is, I went to Oscorp Tower and got myself bitten by a spider one day."

"Not just any spider, was it?"

He shakes his head, "They were using them for all sorts of experiments. Genetic engineering, and a bunch of cool real-world applications that, for whatever reason, never really got beyond the concept stage." He bends back two fingers on one hand, touching the webshooter that's always clipped to his hoodie cuff. "Such as."

"Can I see that?" I ask, out of curiosity.

"You can, but may you?" Peter laughs before passing the webshooter to me. "Be careful with it - the trigger's pretty sensitive."

While I turn the little device over in my hand a few times, looking closely at the loose strands of sticky webline trailing from its business end, Peter continues talking. "Do you...do you know how I first became famous as Spider-Man?"

"I think so," I say. "Something about you using your webs to hog-tie a bunch of petty criminals and pretty much hand-deliver them to the NYPD?"

"Mm-hmm. But most people don't know how it all started."

I look up to see Peter looking down and off to the side. Smelling tragedy ahead, I nevertheless advise him to continue. And continue he does.

"I started out doing the vigilante thing, kinda like Oliver, but all my targets were small fry, like you said. The reason for that was 'cause...see, I was looking for one guy in particular."

"What kind of beef did you have with him?"

Peter doesn't respond for the longest time - that's how I know I've touched a nerve. After taking another drink of soda, I'm about to apologize, but before I can, he says, "He killed my uncle."

"Oh my God," I whisper, putting down the bottle. "Oh...I'm so sorry."

"It's all right," Peter says in a tone of voice that completely contradicts his words. "I-I spent such a long time trying to find this guy and get my revenge, but that was before...before I started dating Gwen. She helped me find myself, you know? And...I mean, I never did find Uncle Ben's killer. Nor do I expect to, really. But..." His voice trails off, and when it comes back, it's thick with tears. "Wh-When I was still looking for...for that guy, I just wanted to hurt him so bad. Hurt him like he'd hurt me. I-I-I already lost my parents; I couldn't handle that pain again..." He wipes the tears off his cheeks, then folds his hands in front of his face, his thumbs poised to dry his eyes again. "And the worst part was, I-"

"You lost your parents?"

He looks up again, startled, his eyes wide and sparkling with more tears. "They died in a plane crash when I...when I was four. My aunt and uncle raised me after that...and my uncle died just last year. And I let it happen. His killer...I-I watched him rob a convenience store, and I didn't do anything to stop him. So he ran out onto the street, ran into Uncle Ben, and they got into a fight..." He draws a shuddering breath, and when he's able to talk again, his voice is more broken than ever. "I watched him die."

Only a second passes before I get up from the table, come around to Peter's side, and lay a comforting hand on his shoulder. "You're...you're not the only one this has happened to," I say. "When I was eleven, the Reverse Flash killed my mom right in front of me." I don't bother telling him about how I recently went back in time to say goodbye to her before she died, and also to bring my younger self to safety. I don't want him to think I was the lucky one. Neither of us was. "They thought my dad killed her. He didn't, but he's still been in prison for almost fifteen years."

Peter shrugs off my hand and slides off his chair, only to turn around and hug me. "Yeah, that's all right," I say, patting him on the back as I return his hug. "Just let it out. You're not alone, Peter. From what I've heard, you never were."

He nods, still crying into my shoulder for a few seconds. Then he lets go of me and takes his seat again, spending a while downing his soda. "That's actually my worst fear," he says.

"What is?"

"Being alone. Having no one to love, to care about, to trust with your life."

I can't help but laugh lightly as a tasteless joke, one that might very well offend my one-man audience, occurs to me. "Funny, and I thought I had the worst possible worst fear."

"Which is what?"

I crack a smile. "Spiders."

We both end up crying tears of laughter that, no doubt, wake up everyone else in the apartment. In which case, who cares? We're having ourselves a little metahuman therapy session, dammit!

Cold Fire: Rachel And Alex's First Date

***SPOILER ALERT***

In another burst of creativity, I've finally thought of the best possible first date for Rachel and Alex, which is now an extension of Red Rain's new Chapter 24, "Beautiful Child," which I posted earlier this month. The chief inspiration, believe it or not, comes not from Teen Wolf, despite this new scene featuring yet another well-placed reference to that show. Instead, it comes from this funny Twitter feed, aptly called Brooding YA Hero. More specifically, it comes from this here tweet of his:

Sometimes I wanna be the one who wraps my arms around the waist of the girl driving he motorcycle. But, sigh, that will never happen.

— Brooding YA Hero (@broodingYAhero) October 16, 2015

Aww, poor guy. Well, Alex is gonna have the chance to do what you can't, and he'll be able to speak from experience when he tells you exactly what you're missing. But first, a little mood music - in this case, an underrated gem from the year of my birth: Rush, "Cold Fire."





One last thing: Alex is aware that Rachel has a motorcycle by the time this scene takes place, so that's why, when she breaks out the helmets, it's no surprise to him. In three...two...one...enjoy a scene that, were I to re-enact it for reals, my parents would have a heart attack. :)


The first day back at Balthazar in January, when I see Rachel in a denim jacket I’ve never seen before (it might be a Christmas gift), I kiss her on the cheek, and she jumps into my arms to hug me back. She even leaves a yellow Post-It inside my hood, with her email and number written on it. “Should’ve given that to you before break,” she says.

“Love you too,” I say, holding her hand as we sit in the lounge’s biggest armchair.

But she’s not in a mood to sit. Almost immediately, she stands up again and opens the bigger of her two wheeled suitcases, extracting her two motorcycle helmets. “Wanna take Jace for a ride?” she asks, tossing one helmet into my lap.

“You named your bike after Jace Wayland?”

“Yep. You wanna come with or not? I haven’t gone out with him since before break - I have to leave him in a shed up here, ‘cause the movers don’t like to come up here in the winter.”

I look at my reflection in the helmet’s tinted Plexiglas visor. “You’re driving, right?”

“Mm-hmm.” Rachel takes my hand and lifts me out of the seat - holy shit, she’s strong. Either that, or I’m just in no mood to resist her. And her charms. “But hey, think of this as a learning opportunity for when you have your own motorbike too.”

I grin at her and tuck the helmet under my arm. “Scott McCall’s an amazing role model. Lead the way, Rach.”

“Yay!” Rachel chirps, tugging on my arm as she leads me downstairs and out of the building to a storage shed on the edge of the grounds. There are no less than five motorbikes inside, but there’s no mistaking Jace - he’s the leanest and meanest of the bunch. Low-slung. And when Rachel turns his engine on, the roar gives me chills.

“Helmet on and hold on,” Rachel says, wheeling him out onto the gravel path leading towards the service road.

I follow her orders to the letter, my arms wrapped tightly around her waist as she steers Jace around hairpin turns going up the mountain. A few times, I actually cry out in fear as she comes dangerously close to sending us careening over the edge of a cliff, but Rachel’s too good with her bike for that. By the time we come to a stop at the top of a hill overlooking the town below, I’m buzzing with adrenaline and grinning maniacally, and I can’t let go of her even though we’re safely stopped.

Hell, I don’t want to let go of her. I totally see the appeal of these babies now - handle them right, and you can have an experience a hundred times more exhilarating than any flight.

We take off our helmets, and I kiss her again, adding to the electric-charge feeling coursing through me. “Best. First. Date. Ever,” I whisper, our foreheads and noses touching.

“I try,” Rachel says, sounding so modest. So like she’s not in the driver’s seat, even though she is. In every which way but loose.