ugh i fucking love this issue so much, it encapsulates steph’s character so well
like right before they confront the penguin, they find the little girl, melanie
and melanie flinches back from cass, because - well, we all know she’s a gigantic mushy sweetheart but the costume is scary for a reason
but steph just kneels down and comforts her
and then we contrast that with her fucking PULVERISING the penguin
and that dissonance is part of what makes steph so interesting, imo - kindness and compassion and joy, vs ruthlessness and brutality and rage
cass stops her before she goes to far; i honestly think, if she hadn’t, penguin wouldn’t have survived that encounter
and then we close on WHY it makes her so angry, so frustrated; why she’s wearing a mask in the first place
she knows what it is to fall through the cracks, to be forlorn and forgotten, to feel small and helpless, to lose your faith in the world, to know you’ll never really be safe
when is it going to stop
[lawyer voice] the prosecution makes a compelling argument, but have you considered this *puts middle finger up*
i think if i had one question for the universe it would be why all australian school children are taught that one line dance to nutbush city limits
wait is this not universal????
…no, no I’m afraid not.
i don’t understand anything anymore
Y’all, I have never seen that before and I’m a little frightened at how EVERYONE in that video started doing it.
i don’t even remember learning the nutbush i just knew it one day. if you put that song on at a party or a club or anywhere, everyone will stop and do the dance.
sure, you save yourself with claws and a sharp tongue, but you god damn live again, you survive, with the softest, sweetest touches, and with good food and long runs in the afternoon that arent from anything at all, with big crystal cut glasses of wine and books that arc over years or poetry that brushes moments because they make the lives and realties of others less blurry and conceptual, and then they make you see the same in yourself. you cast spells into your meals or find a patron saint or marvel over the science of how small you are or you find faith only in the seasons, but hell that is still faith, and its still trust, and its still a way to survive.
and you learn to let someone put their teeth on your skin again, pin you to a wall or bed again, with absolutely no fear that they’re doing it to hurt you, only to give you pleasure. you trust your sense of time, your balance, your grace, your body to eat and sleep and you wash it and paint it and let it rest or whir a million times a minute. you go to the theater, buy copper pots, not bother getting the dirt from gardening out from under your nails. you clack down hallways in high heels. you find words for what happened or maybe you dont speak about it at all, because the only thing that says you dont have power over what happened is the sharp version of yourself with claws that claims it saved you
please remember it didnt save you because it was part of you
the girl in the garden at college sleeping in her bed with her hands dangling over the side unafraid who is just as much your invention and person, she saved you too
you saved you. you were never a monster you were never a goddess you were never a dog snarling or a virgin round with grace except when you needed to be and were so and you saved you as you, not as any of them, no matter how you inhabited them to do so, do you understand? you are not fiction or a archetype, you are human vast and surviving and organically growing
you own your life to yourself
Persephone as a dark and off-putting goddess who worries her mother by hanging out with satyrs and making weird stuff like pitcher plants and Venus flytraps. Hades being charmed and intimidated all at once.