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[justforbooks]

Christina Hendricks

The star of Good Girls discusses Mad Men, sexual harassment and squaring her glamorous reputation with her ‘weird, goofy’ personality

Christina Hendricks appears on our video call with the most dramatic backdrop. Art deco gold peacocks bedeck a black wall, making her look, as she has so often in her career, a bit too good to be human. Perfectly poised, perfectly framed, perfectly lit, she is more like a dreamy vision of what humans look like. ��I, erm, like your wall,” I say, pointlessly. She flashes a smile, as if to say: “Obviously.”

We are here primarily to discuss the comedy-drama series Good Girls, the fourth season of which will resume in the US this month after a midseason break. The elevator pitch would be Breaking Bad for girls: three suburban women, each hovering on the edge of bankruptcy, unite to embark on a life of cack-handed crime, only to discover they are good at it. The ensemble – Hendricks, Mae Whitman, who plays her sister, and Retta, their friend – works strikingly well, their pacey comic rapport instilling a sense of perpetual motion. You just can’t imagine Good Girls ending. Every time a plot line seems to be reaching its climax, something worse – and funnier – happens.

“It’s funny you say that, because originally, when I read the pilot script, I thought: ‘I love this, but I can’t imagine this being more than one episode,’” says Hendricks. “It felt like it finished itself.” She is unsentimental about it. Hendricks wasn’t looking for a new show – “I was happy doing films, taking my time” – but went into it with her eyes open. It is a network drama, for NBC – it is shown on Netflix in the UK – so producers are always aware that “it’s going into every house in the US on a Thursday or a Sunday and a family is watching it. They’re much more careful about numbers and advertisers and people being offended or not getting it. A cable show is much more: ‘We trust this creator – they’re a visionary.’”

It has a conventional tone – however dark the material, it is handled very lightly. Yet you can’t help but notice some hard-boiled social commentary from the off – if it weren’t for the bracingly callous US health system, the generation of wage-stagnation casualties and the patriarchy, none of the characters would have gone anywhere near a supermarket heist. More than Breaking Bad, it reminds me of Roseanne and the golden age of US mainstream comedy, when you could be poor on TV without that being a breach of good taste.

The 48-year-old has been a household name for almost 15 years, thanks to Mad Men. She was born in Tennessee, where her mother was a psychologist and her father worked for the Forest Service, and educated in Oregon and then Idaho. She didn’t have time for formal acting training; by the time she was 18, her modelling career had taken off. Later, when she had a manager, she took acting lessons: “I did that for almost a year and a half and put auditions on ice. Then I was watching a film – I don’t even remember what film it was or who was in it – and I thought: ‘I’m ready. I can do this.’” She has the most insistent work ethic; as she describes her life’s trajectory, she notes diligently the jobs she had while she was at high school, at a hair salon and a menswear shop.

In 2007, she appeared as Joan Holloway in Mad Men. She played the role for the next eight years, her character growing around the depth she brought to it, until by season seven she was almost the central part. In the early 2010s, Hendricks was talked about constantly, although she says the original focal points of obsession were the male characters: “Men started dressing like Don Draper and Roger Sterling. Suits came back in, skinny ties came back in. It took three to four seasons and then all of a sudden people wanted us [the female stars] on magazines. We were like: ‘This is strange – we’ve been doing this for a while.’”

Hendricks, along with January Jones, who played Betty Draper, came to represent so much. There was a great deal of rumination on their physicality, Jones as elegant as an afghan hound, Hendricks like the pin-up painted on the side of a bomber. What did it mean, people asked, that in the middle of the 20th century there were multiple ideals of the female form, whereas in the 21st century there was only one? How did that complicate the perception of gender equality as a steady march towards the light? Thousands of column inches went on that question – but, from the actor’s perspective, it was an annoying distraction. “There certainly was a time when we were very critically acclaimed, and getting a lot of attention for our very good work and our very hard work, and everyone just wanted to ask me about my bra again. There are only two sentences to say about a bra,” she says.

The signal impression the show left was of an ensemble at the peak of its creativity: actors, writers and the creator, Matthew Weiner, working in almost telepathic unison. It won the Emmy for outstanding drama series four times in a row, but the more notable year was 2012, when it was nominated for 17 Emmys (and didn’t win any of them). The take-home was: everyone involved with this is absolutely brilliant.

That harmonious picture was blurred two years after the show ended, when one of the former writers, Kater Gordon, accused Weiner of sexual harassment. Marti Noxon, a consulting producer on Mad Men, concurred that Weiner had created a toxic environment and said that he was an “‘emotional terrorist’ who will badger, seduce and even tantrum in an attempt to get his needs met”.

Hendricks takes this head on, in a considered, straightforward manner. “My relationship with Matt was in no way toxic,” she says. “I don’t discount anyone’s experience if I wasn’t there to see it, but that wasn’t my experience. Was he a perfectionist, was he tough, did he expect a lot? Yes. And he would say that in a second. We were hard on each other.”

It is impossible, from this distance, to adjudicate on Weiner’s character, but Hendricks’s response reveals something of hers. The easiest response in this situation, and the one 90% of actors give, is: “No comment.” Hendricks is always collected, never evasive, doesn’t gabble. She reminds me powerfully of Joan Holloway – and I am sorry to say it, because she insists throughout: “I’m an actress. I am completely not Joan. Not in any way. I wish I was more like Joan.”

I wonder if, while we were all fixating on Joan’s bras and whether or not, in the asinine words of Lynne Featherstone, the UK’s equalities minister in 2010, she represented a “curvy role model”, the audience was responding to Joan’s deeper life lesson – that self-possession is 9/10ths of the law.

What Hendricks emphatically doesn’t do is minimise the existence of sexism and sexual harassment in the industry: “Boy, do you think anyone in the entertainment industry comes out unscathed and not objectified? I don’t know one musician or one model or one actor who has escaped that. I have had moments – not on Mad Men; on other things – where people have tried to take advantage of me, use my body in a way I wasn’t comfortable with, persuade me or coerce me or professionally shame me: ‘If you took your work seriously, you would do this …’

“Maybe it was my modelling background, but I knew to immediately get on the phone and go: ‘Uh oh, trouble,’” she says. “That’s where it’s very much a job. We need to talk to the producers and handle this professionally.”

Yet, at the same time, she is defensive of her industry. “It gets a lot of attention because people know who we are. I’m sure there’s a casting couch at the bank down the street, I’m sure the same thing happens in management consultancy, but people don’t know who the management consultants are.”

Modelling always sounds like a harsh environment – predatory photographers vying with stringent agents to give everyone a complex about their thighs and stop them eating carbs. But that is not how Hendricks describes it at all. Her career sounds like one out of an 80s Judy annual: innocent and hearty, good for pin money and travel opportunities. “I think I was lucky – I didn’t start when I was 14. When I was about 18 or 19, I went to Japan for the first time, I went to Italy. We’d be lots of girls, sharing a house, and I sort of became the den mother. I’d make everyone egg salad sandwiches and Greek salads, going into this mother hen role.”

That is what they say about being taken hostage: if you want to survive, choose someone to look after. “Oh,” she says, coolly. “I wouldn’t consider being a model as being a hostage.”

She was only ever medium-successful, she insists – an “unusual and quirky” hire, rather than the slam-dunk face of everything. About as far as it went was that she never had to get another job to supplement her income. Probably the most famous image of that era in which she was involved was the poster for American Beauty. Two models were in the frame, so they took a photo of the stomach and the hands of each. In the end, they used Hendricks’s hand on the other model’s stomach. It sounds like a clunky metaphor, but it is true.

During this period, she moved to London with a friend, for the hell of it, living in a flat on Gloucester Road, “surviving on cider and hummus”. It is a glimpse of the oddball she says she was growing up, the outsider as whom she is rarely cast. This has been the story of her CV. “Early on in my career, I would get auditions and I would call my manager and say: ‘I would never cast me in this – she’s a cheerleader, she’s a bimbo. Can I audition for the other one, the weird doctor?’ And they’d be like: ‘No, they saw your picture.’ And I started realising that people didn’t see the weird, goofy me that I saw.”

She made the jump from modelling to acting via adverts, with what looks like fairytale ease. In fact, it was “a lot of pounding the pavement and showing up for auditions and getting rejected – and learning, as a young woman, to not take that personally”. By the late 90s, she was the face of ultimate female confidence, the woman who drinks Johnnie Walker and doesn’t need a chauffeur (these are two ads, not one for drink-driving). “I always thought of modelling as freeze-frame acting. It felt like a scene, and I still consider it that way. There are so many technical things that I think people don’t notice. They see you playing dress-up.”

From the commercials, she learned “how to hit a mark, how to memorise a line”, but acting wasn’t novel. She had been doing community theatre since the age of 10, and grew up expecting an alternative life, supplementing an art-house existence any which way. She never amplifies her creative urges. She is much happier talking about professionalism and graft, but that is strategic more than anything else. “I am incredibly emotional and I take things very personally. But I’ve learned to be a little bit of a politician and a little bit of a producer along the way. As a female actor, the easy go-to is: ‘She was emotional, she was hysterical.’ It can be a million other people’s fault, but it’s easy to point your finger at an emotional artist. So, I realised: if I’m going to be taken seriously, I need to have professional perspective and I can cry about it to my friends later.”

Yet she cares deeply about creativity, as is clear when she talks about Mad Men. “It may eclipse anything I ever did. And, if it does, it was a good one and I’m proud of it,” she says. “I got to bring who I was as a woman. I think I learned some of how to be a woman from Joan. No one would give a shit about me if it wasn’t for that show. I’d still be doing good work, but no one would have found me. If that’s the best thing I ever do, it was pretty good.”

Daily inspiration. Discover more photos at Just for Books…?

[tma-entity-song-poll]

Battle of the Fear Bands!

B4R1: The Extinction

Stop the World I Wanna Get Off With You:

Toxic Love:

“It is a villain song from a literal incarnation of pollution, what more do you expect?”

Lyrics below the line!

Stop the World I Wanna Get Off With You:

Open Sesame (We've places to go) We've people to see (Let's put 'em on hold) There's all sorts of shapes that I bet you can make When you want to escape, say the word

Well, I know that getting you alone isn't easy to do With the exception of you, I dislike everyone in the room And I don't wanna lie, but I don't wanna tell you the truth Get the sense that you're on the move And you'll probably be leaving soon, so I'm telling you

Stop the world 'cause I wanna Get off with you Stop the world 'cause I wanna Get off with you

Eyes the colour of (Water left in mud) Icing sugar dust (Crazy green flashes) It's a funny thing that I cannot explain Don't you know the train keeps a-rolling?

Stop the world 'cause I wanna Get off with you Stop the world 'cause I wanna Get off with you

Well, I know that getting you alone isn't easy to do And I don't wanna lie, and I don't wanna tell you the truth And I know we got places to go, we got people to see Think we both oughta put 'em on hold and I know you agree

Stop the world 'cause I wanna Get off with you Stop the world 'cause I wanna Get off with you

Toxic Love:

Mm, sludge Mm, filth Mm, fumes Oh-oh cack!

Oil and grime, poison sludge Diesel clouds and noxious muck Slime beneath me, slime up above Ooh you'll love my, ah-oh-ah, toxic love Toxic love

I see the world and all the creatures in it I suck 'em dry and spit 'em out like spinach I feel the power, it's growing by the minute And pretty soon you're gonna see me wallow in it

I feel good, a special kind of horny Flowers and trees depress and frankly bore me I think I'll spew them all with cyanide saliva Pour me a puke cocktail and take me to the driver

Filthy brown acid rain Pouring down like egg chow mein All that's foul, all that's stained Breeding in my toxic brain

And after dinner, I could go for something sweet Revenge! For all those years locked in a tree I'm gonna crush and grind all creatures great and small And put up parking lots and shiny shopping malls

'Cause greedy human beings will always lend a hand With the destruction of this worthless jungle land And what a beautiful machine they have provided To slice a path of doom with my foul breath to guide it

Hit me one time! Hit me twice! Oh! Ah! Oh, well that's rather nice!

Oil and grime, poison sludge Diesel clouds and noxious muck Slime beneath me, slime up above Ooh you'll love my (ah-oh-ah) toxic love

[baskinrobbinswarwick]

Baskin-Robbins Pie – The Perfect Summer Dessert! I Save extra $5 off from your next uber eats order

[narcos-narcosmx]

Reaction to _ | ficlet 2

Reaction to a 🍆 pic

This is a narcos-only Sideblog for @artemiseamoon

Part one

Thank you 😄 inspo credit to @purplesong1028 (original post). These are not really edited rambles. You know the show you know the warnings. All for fun. Enjoy!

This round: Maria, Cochiloco (ft. Chapo and Güero Palma), Steve Murphy (ft Javi) and my addition of Yessica

Maria aka my Queen

After putting the gifts in the car, Maria shut the truck and made her way to the front. Though she has people who can take care of tasks like this, she’s always been independent and prefers to do things herself. Except for the nights she likes to read in silence, then she prefers things to be brought to her.

With the holidays around the corner, she wanted to make sure she had the perfect gifts for her kids. And seeing the smiles on their faces as they open these up, is going to be well worth the long drive to this specific toy shop.

Just as Maria enters the car, her phone buzzes. Taking it out of her purse, unlocks her phone and stares at it with raised brows.

It’s a dick pic.

Maria take a closer look and shakes her head disapprovingly.

Definitely a dick pic.

Maria clears her throat and pressed hard on the number. The option to call pops up, she does.

It rings one, twice. Then a third time. When the person picks up, she goes off before they get a chance to speak -

She ends her thorough verbal assault with six words, spitting them out like venom, “YOU SHOULD BE ASHAMED OF YOURSELF!”

Maria hangs up the phone.

Cochiloco

Ft. Chapo and Güero Palma

Being an assistant at Güeros office meant you saw a lot of funny things, between Cochi and Chapo, you were guaranteed a good laugh at least once a day. You’ve grown used to coming in, start of the day, and stumbling upon a joke.

So when you round the corner and hear their cacking, you know you’re in for something good. Then you enter the office and stop dead in your tracks. You feel your eyes grow wide and you nearly drop your coffee.

“What is that?!” You tilt your head slight, trying to decipher what you’re looking at. Then it hits you, it is that, it’s that blown up to small poster size.

Barely keeping it together, Cochi and Chapo curl over with laughter.

Cochi walks over to you, still laughing, “some son of a bitch sent me a dick pick so -“ more laughing “I posted it then printed it out-“ he howls louder and grabs his stomach

Chapo falls out of his chair.

Cochi points to him, “and this - “ still laughing , “sent one back!”

You shake your head and glance at Chapo, then Cochi.

“Whyyyy would you do that?” You turn your back to the giant dick staring at you.

“Because it’s funny!” Chapo and Cochi say at the same time.

Then the door opens. You catch the brief closed mouthed smile on Gueros lips as he enters. You also watch it drop.

“What the fuck?”

His response makes them laugh even harder and you start to laugh too.

Guero is too tired for this shit. Everything with Miguel and the plazas is stressing him out, and they’re here doing this?

He goes up to the wall, tears it down, then goes over to his desk. He sighs and wishes he was home with Lupe and the kids. Thinking of them alone, brings a smile back to his face.

Cochi kicks the crumpled paper over to Chapo, he’s hiding his laughter behind his arm. Chapo picks it up and puts it in the drawer.

You know them well enough to know, they’re definitely keeping it.

Steve

(Ft Javi)

Steve closes his eyes. It’s been a long day. He’s going to have fucking nightmares about paperwork. He’s going stir crazy in this office and needs some action soon.

Opening then again, he glimpses at the window, the moon is out and it must be about 7 o’clock now. He pours a glass of whiskey and sits back in the chair.

When his phone buzzes, he expects to see a text from Connie, but that’s not what he gets. It’s a text from an unknown number, a fully erect cock staring right at him.

“What the fuck?” Steve drops his phone on the desk and pushes it away from him.

Steve stares at the phone, then picks it up again. He types, “You should be ashamed of yourself.” Then presses send.

“Asshole.” Steve picks up his glass, takes a huge gulp, then gets back to the paperwork.

Javi walks in five minutes later with a fresh pack of cigarettes and some street food in a brown paper bag.

Steve sits up, “Fuck you Javi.”

“What did I do?” Javi looks at him innocently and puts the bag down.

Steve gets up and shows him the pic.

Javi snickers, “you think that’s me?”

“Isn’t it?”

“I’m offended. I thought we were friends.”

Steve looks at it again, “who the fuck would send me a dick pic then?”

“Better question, why’d you keep it?” Javi raised a brow , leaned against the desk and lit a cigarette

Steve flips him off then deletes the pic.

Javi chuckled, bringing the cigarette to his lips, “if you want to see mine -“

Steve walks out of the room.

Yessica

I adore her so added her in…

Zipping the dress closed, Yessica turns and looks in the mirror. She was playing for someone important tonight, the manager made sure to drive that home to everyone.

It would be a long night, but as long ad it paid well, it’s fine. Yessica finished the final touches of her outfit then grabs her purse.

She heads to the counter to get her phone when it starts to buzz. She slides the screen and opens the text.

Yessica snickers, then raised her brows.

Well, if this is a sign, tonight’s going to be interesting

She puts her purse down and replies,

“I’ve seen better.”

Three dots immediately pop up, vanish, pop up again then vanish.

Yessica chuckles then writes, “hey, maybe it’s cold out? Try again later?”

Three dots pop up, then vanish.

Yessica types another message, “heres a tip, don’t take it fresh out the shower.”

She presses send.

‘Not delivered’ pops up under her message.

“Guess I hurt his feelings .”

Yessica puts her phone in her purse, grabbed her keys, and heads out for the night.

[unsettledink]

Kinktober Day 12

Hang Up

Prompt: Phone Sex

Word Count: 2172

Summary: The things Peter is saying— it doesn’t matter what Tony thinks about them, what he wants; he needs to hang up right now.

Right now. Okay, now. Seriously, now. This second. Or the next. 

(dirty talk, mutual masturbation, slightly tipsy Peter, slight dom!Tony)

*

"Mr. Stark?"

"Peter?" Tony says, a little surprised. "It's— uh, after one am, what's happened?"

"Nothing happened, Mr. Stark,” Peter says. Sighs, long and quiet. “I just missed you. Missed hearing you talk.”

“You missed hearing me talk,” Tony says, slowly. Peter hasn’t called him in ages, not even to leave a voicemail. This is… odd. “That's a new one. So you had to call at this time to tell me?”

“I didn't really think you'd pick up, I guess,” Peter says. “I'm really glad you did. Will you just— talk about something for a while? Is it too weird to ask that?”

It's more than a little weird, and Tony probably shouldn't indulge it, shouldn't give Peter the idea that this is something he should repeat. But Peter sounds oddly forlorn. ��I missed you’, he'd said, and how long has that been going on? “What do you want to hear about?”

“Anything,” Peter says. “Anything you want to say.”

So Tony rambles a bit, wandering from the newest updates to Peter’s suit to his new global defense system. Peter's quiet, not even asking questions, but Tony can still hear him breathing, still on the line.

Can hear a tiny high pitched noise, almost a whimper, like Peter's hurt.

“You don't sound like yourself, kid,” Tony says, because he won’t get a straight answer if he asks if Peter’s hurt. “Where are you?”

“I'm at home, Mr. Stark. Where are you?”

“In the shop,” Tony answers. “Are you hurt? Are you in the suit— FRIDAY, give me a readout on it— 

“I'm not wearing the suit,” Peter says, dragging it out into a whine. “I'm not wearing anything.”

What.

“Okay, that's—” 

“You could fuck me, Mr. Stark,” Peter says, breathy, and Tony's brain completely stops functioning.

“What?” Tony says, nearly squeaks.

“You could fuck me,” Peter says again, so no, Tony did not mishear that. “I'd let you, I'd be happy to let you. I could do whatever you wanted.”

Oh shit, this is bad. “Did you take something?” Tony asks, standing, about two seconds from summoning the armor.

Peter sighs. “I don't have to be drunk to want you to fuck me,” he says. “I want that all the time.”

Okay, so he's drunk, maybe. Still, this is— “Peter—”

“I think about it all the time,” Peter says dreamily. “Think about what it would be like, with you. I've never done it before. You could be my first? Would you like that?” he says, with this awful little thread of vulnerability, and Tony cannot think about what he would like. 

“Or— some people don't,” Peter adds, “maybe you wouldn't. But I think— I think you would. You like new things. You like getting ahead of everyone else.”

“Peter,” Tony says, “listen—”

“I bet you would make it feel so good,” Peter says, like he hasn't even heard Tony. “You're so good at everything else, you're a playboy, right? You could make me feel amazing, I just know it.” He would, Tony thinks, despite himself, he’d make it so amazing; it’s Peter. Fuck. No. He can’t think like that.

“I think I'd love it anyway, no matter what,” Peter says, his breath hitching for a second, “because it'd be your dick inside me, but you'd know how to make it the best.” He moans softly, and Tony realizes he's got to be touching himself. Realizes he can hear the sound of Peter's hand on his cock, the soft wet sound of lube and rustling sheets.

He should hang up, right this second.

“I think about what it be like, having you in me. If you'd be big and it'd be hard to take it, if you'd leave me gaping open after,” and god, Peter has a filthy mouth. “How your hands would feel on me,” Peter says, “your mouth, if you'd leave bruises and hickeys, if you bite while you fuck.”

“Peter,” Tony says, his mouth dry, “I'm— I'm going to hang up now. Just—” he closes his eyes. “Drink some water, get some sleep, and this will seem like a dream in the morning.” A really embarrassing dream that, hopefully, they can both pretend never happened. 

Like Tony will ever forget Peter saying those things.

“No," Peter whines. “Please, Mr. Stark, don't go. Don't hang up on me; I'll be good, okay? I'll be quiet and just listen, I can be quiet, I've got lots of practice making sure no one can hear me when I come.” Tony shudders; yeah, he’d bet Peter does, and he’d make all that practice useless if he had Peter in his hands.  “Please don't leave me like this though. You can talk about whatever you want. I love your voice.”

How the hell is he supposed to resist that, resist Peter begging him not to go? After everything, how is he supposed to?

“Kid—” 

“Please, please,” Peter whispers. “Or— maybe I could be loud? Be noisy? Would that be better, would you like that better? May's not here, I could be as loud as you want. Would you want to stay for that? I'll give you anything you ask for, Mr. Stark.”

“I'm not asking you for anything,” Tony says, hoarse. “Peter, this isn't— you shouldn't do this, you're going to regret it tomorrow.”

“Who cares about tomorrow,” Peter huffs. “All I want is your dick in me and you talking to me, that's all I'll ever really want. Please, Mr. Stark. Wouldn't you like it?”

“It's not about what I'd like, kid.” Really, really not, and it’s never going to be. Peter deserves a hell of a lot better than that.

“What would you like?” Peter says, low, hungry, and even if it’s put on it’s… really working for Tony. “Would you like it slow? Would you make it last forever, take me apart for hours until I can't think about anything, can't do anything except beg?” Peter whimpers. “I wouldn't last very long, Mr. Stark. I'd be begging from the start.”

“Fuck,” Tony whispers, and his cock is so hard, his cock doesn't care how much of a dirty old man this makes him. He presses the heel of his hand against it; he's not going to get himself off to this. He's not.

But he is going to listen, isn't he.

“Or would you like fast?” Peter says. “Would you bend me over whatever's closest and fuck me like that? Not even get an of our clothes off, just shove my pants down and open yours? You could, you could, Mr. Stark. You could shove in and fuck me and come in me so fast I wouldn't even get a chance to, could leave me like that, still hard and full of your come.” 

Peter’s panting, soft little whines between his words. “I bet your fingers would feel so good in me,” he says, “would feel even better than this, bigger than mine, but you wouldn't have to. I'd be fine if you fucked me dry, I wouldn't care if it hurt, and you couldn't really hurt me.”

“Peter,” Tony breathes out, and he's not going to get off, he's not.

“You could fuck me however you wanted,” Peter says, moaning. “I might like it if it was hard, if you fucked me hard enough I couldn't breathe, couldn't stay in place. You could tie me up if you wanted, so you fuck me like that and not have to hold me down.” Fuck, Tony thinks, fuck, he could, it would be so easy and Peter— Peter obviously— no, no. 

“But maybe you'd like holding me down? Oh, fuck— god,” Peter says, his voice breaking. “I wish I had your fingers in me instead.”

“You— are you fingering yourself?” and shit, Tony shouldn't have asked that. But he's said it, he's said something about all this now, he's interacted, fuck.

“Yeah,” Peter says, “got one hand on my dick and one in my ass, bet you'd be better at both.”

The picture that gives Tony is dizzying; he can see it so clearly. “How many?” 

"Huh?"

"How many fingers have you got in yourself?” Tony says, every word a mistake and he doesn’t want to take them back.

Peter moans, long and loud. “Two,” he says.

“Get another in there,” because Tony is the fucking worst.

“Yessir," Peter says, and at this point, Tony may not even have to touch himself to get off.

“God, Peter,” he says.

“Would you fuck me on my back?” Peter asks, his breathing growing harsher. “Bend me in half and fuck me like that, so I can see you, could kiss you? Or—” he gasps, whines, “or would you flip me over and fuck me into the bed, put your hand on my back and shove my face down until I couldn't breathe? Maybe you'd have me on the side of the bed, grab my hips and fuck me like that, maybe—”

“Watch a lot of porn, do you?” Tony says, breathing harder himself.

“Not a lot,” Peter says. “What's in my head is better. It's easier to imagine it’s you that way.”

Tony can imagine it too, and it's going to kill him if that's all he ever gets, these words and those imagined things. They're never going to leave his mind.

“What would you want, baby?” Tony asks. "I want to hear you tell me.”

“Oh god,” Peter gasps. “Mr. Stark, I— he whimpers, and Tony can hear the wet sounds, can hear the bed squeaking a little.

“Don't come until you've told me,” Tony snaps, and judging by the choked off noise he makes, Peter likes getting orders.

“I'd want— I'd want you to pull me into your lap,” Peter says, his voice cacking, “and kiss me. Make out with me for a while until I'm grinding against you, can't stop myself. You— oh, god, you could tell me what a slut I am for it, tell me I'm wasted on anything except being your toy,” and Tony can't take it one second longer, ripping down his zipper and yanking his cock out. “Fuck,” Peter whispers, “fuck, did you just— are you getting off too? Please, are you?”

Tony shudders. Groans despite himself. “Yeah,” he says. “God Peter, listen to yourself, how could I not?”

“Tony,” Peter moans, and that alone nearly does Tony in.

“Come on, kid,” Tony says, stroking his cock, tight, fast. “Tell me the rest of it, get me off.”

“I— fuck, fuck, Tony, please—”

“Tell me.”

“You could mark me up,” Peter says. “Bite me, give me hickeys, get your hand around my throat while you opened me up. Could try and make them last so everybody would know I'd been fucked by you, oh Tony— Tony, you could, please,” Peter begs. “Could finger me until I'm begging for your dick, and then pull me up and drop me right down on it, make me ride you until you came. Maybe— maybe you'll tell me I couldn't come until you did, or couldn't at all—” 

“No,” Tony gasps out, “no, baby, I'd want to see you come, want to see how pretty you'd look like that. Want you to come on my cock just like that, pull your head back and watch while you did.”

“Tony,” Peter moans, “Tony, oh god, yes, please.”

He can almost picture it, almost imagine what Peter would feel like bouncing on his cock, tightening around it and coming, would look like; he already knows how Peter can flush, knows what he looks like when he's startled, when he's sweaty and worn out— fuck, how is he ever supposed to look at Peter in any of those situations again and not want?

“Please,” Peter whispers, “Tony, please, please, you could do that, I'd want it, I would. Fuck, Tony— Tony, please, can I? Can I? I'm so—” he breaks off with a whimper.

“Yes,” Tony tells him. “Go on, kid, let me hear you come.”

“Tony," Peter gasps, and then his breath catches, a second of silence before he lets it out, this gorgeous loud groan, breaking into softer, higher whimpers that just go on and on until Peter sucks in another shaking breath. “Tony,” he breathes out,” oh god, fuck, Tony.”

“Fuck,” Tony says, fucking into his hand, and the sound of Peter coming, coming nearly on his command, that hits him hard enough that he's coming almost before he realizes it.

There's no words for a while after that, just Tony panting, slowly calming as he listens to Peter's ragged breathing.

Where the hell are they going to go from here?

“Peter,” he says, and gets nothing. “Peter? Hey, kid, talk to me.”

There's just the soft sound of Peter's breaths, even, quiet. Tony smiles, slowly. “You fall asleep?” he says, even if Peter can't hear him.

“Alright,” Tony says. “Sweet dreams, baby. I'll talk to you tomorrow.”

And tomorrow— if tomorrow Peter still wants, can still say any of those things— 

Tony will find a way for it to happen.

[escherstrange-ffxiv]

15 for Escher!

15. Is there a certain person in this world that they cannot stand? The very mention of this person’s name makes them tremble with anger or fear. *** Oyuunchimeg Aberystwyth enjoyed life’s little pleasures, like dinner with good company at a table filled with simple but delicious food and a sweet wine. She could ask for nothing more. 

“Mrs Aberystwyth, thank you for inviting me to dinner,” Escher said. “Your cook makes the best meals.”

Oyuunchimeg smiled. “The least I can do for a starving young man. Your parents should really stop relying on the Studium lunchroom for their family meals.”

“They say eating takes precious time away from work. Can’t disagree there.”

“I made the stone soup.” Ireul piped up. “Changed the recipe by adding some cream to it.”

Escher did not look up from his food. “Soup’s a bit thin, but it’ll do.”

“It’s lovely soup, Ireul. Make some for your father when he’s back from his business trip.”

Some peace during dinner would be great, but Oyuunchimeg knew the consequences of bringing her student for dinner, let alone one who never got along with her daughter since childhood. She filled her glass with wine.

“So, Ireul,” Escher started, “I hear you’re not entering the Studium?”

Ireul chewed on a piece of chicken breast. “Yeah. Gonna apprentice at my dad’s shop this summer. I’ve always been a doer, you know.’ She slurped her soup loudly, ignoring her mother’s frown. “Studying’s for squares anyway.”

Escher shrugged. “Well, we can’t all be brilliant like your mother.”

A tense silence fell, punctuated only by the sound of cutlery.

Ireul’s eyes narrowed at the pink-haired man. “Your mustache sucks.”

“Noted.”

“Shave it.”

“Shan’t.”

Ireul’s utensils clattered onto the plate. “It’s been ten years, Escher. Get over it.”

Escher knit his brows. “I’m not a fan of history repeating itself.”

The Au Ra sighed loudly. “You’re holding a knife right now. How cack-handed do you have to be to accidentally cut yourself at your age?!”

He waved his knife. “It’s not near my face! There’s a difference.”

She grabbed her knife and stood up. “Well if you won’t do it, I’ll help you!”

“Get away from me, you vicious-”

Oyuunchimeg swirled the wine in her mouth while reading the label. “This caelumtree wine is lovely, Escher. Please convey my thanks to your uncle.”

Escher would respond if he wasn’t protecting his facial hair with his life.

(thank you for the ask @iloveyouspaceship!)

[selectbeads]

Excited to share this item from my #etsy shop: matte dream agate beads - wholesale gemstone beads - beads and craft supplies - 15 inch https://etsy.me/2Tl3vDN https://www.instagram.com/p/CAck-6in48j/?igshid=41c29h4tkqcz

[loveturtlesx]

The Christmas Tree

I’m sorry, I was feeling all the things and then this blurb happened. I had no idea that it was going to go where it ultimately went. I hope you enjoy! -xx.

She tossed a box at his dozing figure on the couch. 

“Babe, you said you’d help,” she laughed, tossing another ornament box at him. 

“Hey,” his raspy voice groaned, “I lied”. He moved the boxes to the coffee table, “come ‘ere.”

He extended his arms out for her, slowly blinking his bleary eyes trying to find her figure in the dark room. 

“Give me a sec,” she called still maneuvering the boxes around by the windows. Digging through the storage bins her dad had neatly packed for her, she struggled to find exactly what she wanted. There were two storage bins packed to the brim with Christmas ornaments she had collected everywhere she traveled: Prague, Rome, Vienna, Reykjavik, Copenhagen, Dublin, London, Edinburgh, Athens, Chana, Havana, Barcelona, and many many more. Until this year, she had always decorated her parents’ tree with her enormous collection. This was the first year she was going to be decorating her own tree. It was Shawn and her first Christmas living together and their first tree together. Except, their living room was still bare but for the bins her father sent over —he had been eager to clear space in their attic. 

The problem was that she and Shawn did not see eye to eye about their first tree. So, for the majority of December, her holiday trinkets remained in the bins. Shawn wanted a live tree and to make an occasion out of picking one out with her. She thought it was incredibly sweet, but not at all practical. Plus, the sap and needles were annoying as hell. She wanted an artificial tree, and when she told him that they made quite beautiful realistic ones, he laughed at her. She had no desire to deal with the maintenance of the tree when they were constantly on the move. Neither was home consistently to water the tree. She was often working late and Shawn was traveling at the drop of a hat. He disagreed and believed that they could handle the maintenance. Their arguing went round in circles.

Her things were sentenced to be stuck in the bins for a bit longer when Shawn left last week to do a short promo trip in California meeting up with a few different talk show hosts. He discussed their dilemma live on television. She wanted to murder him for it only because it had yet to be resolved. Both wanted their tree to be special, but struggled to find a happy medium. It didn’t help that now they had fans weighing in on their disagreement. When he got home late last night, they had gotten into a pretty stupid fight about it. Their fight lasted a half hour before they were shedding clothing and arguing horizontally. There were several rounds of “arguments”. They both won in a way, but there was no real resolution. Their living room still was not decorated. This bothered her to no end. Christmas was her favorite holiday and she loved feeling festive. How can you be festive without a tree, artificial or not?

Bothering her immensely, she woke up in the wee hours of the morning and wondered out to her bins in the corner, waiting for a home. She pulled her oversized sweater tighter around her frame as she dug into the box. It was soon after that a sleepy Shawn had followed her out into the living room, missing her presence in bed. He joined her and initially promised to help with the decorations that didn’t need a tree, but fell asleep likely from all the intense “arguing” and travel. 

She sighed when she got to the bottom of the bin and still didn’t see what she was looking for. She left the mess on the floor and walked over to a rumpled looking Shawn. He grabbed her hips and pulled her on top of him. She fell non-too gently. Shawn groaned at the impact. 

“Serves you right,” she said, still feeling a little petty. He settled her more comfortably by spooning her, and then swatted her ass. She smirked, “I’m not in the mood to go another round just yet.” 

She could feel him smile into her hair, “what did you need at,” he picked his head up from her hair and squinted at the clock on the cable box, “4:32 in the morning?” His voice was thick still with sleep and sex. She squirmed back into him enjoying his warmth, she closed her eyes and inhaled loudly through her nose. 

His scent toyed with her, “I was looking for a specific ornament my mom gifted me – the Christmas after we started dating.” 

He didn’t respond, but tightened his arms around her torso. He was quiet for so long that she thought he fell asleep. She was lulled into that place between consciousness and sleep from his deep breaths. 

“Baby,” his raspy voice interrupted the silence of the morning.

“Hm?” She wasn’t ready to be fully awake again.

“I’m sorry.”

“Uh huh,” she didn’t open her eyes or mouth. Slowly his apology settled into her brain and she considered it, “I am too.” She responded keeping her eyes shut, still not wanting to meet the day again just yet.

He kissed her hair, “I love you.” 

Her nose wrinkled picking up on his morning breath, “I love you too, but you smell.” 

His belly shook with laughter waking her more, “you’re such a pain in the ass.”

She laughed with him, and when they settled again, she asked, “what do you want to do about the tree?”

He brought her closer to his body, as if she was a stuffed animal. He buried his face into the back of her neck. She opened her eyes at his actions, waiting for a reply that might start another argument. She had no desire or energy in her left to fight about the tree. She just wanted one, live or artificial, to hang her ornaments on and the few they had collected together.

“Don’t be mad.” Oh fuck, Shawn what did you do? She tensed and held her breath waiting for him to speak again.

“I bought something yesterday, that I was hoping would be a decent compromise.”

“And,” she prompted.

“And I was in a gift shop wasting time before my flight when I saw it.” He stopped.

“And,” she prompted again.

“And I saw these seed packets.”

“You bought a snack as a compromise?” She turned her head to regard him.

He would’ve laughed at her had he not been so earnest and nervous about her reaction, “no, I bought spruce seeds. Like for a spruce tree. And- and it comes with a little pot to plant it in. And I figured, if you wanted, we could grow it. And when we get a house, we can plant it in the yard. Then decorate it for Christmas, outside. No needles or sap inside.”

She turned fully around in his arms and looked into his big hazel eyes. He was trying to read her face. She kept it completely still, and then kissed him soundly on the lips. That one kiss, turned into many more. In between kisses she told him “it’s,” kiss, “fucking,” kiss, “perfect.” Sleep completely gone, and tossed away like their shirts were. Her hands were everywhere. He was undoing the drawstring on her pants, when she froze, “wait, and the tree for the living room?”

“Whatever you want.” 

“No, you have to love it too. Pick it with me.” 

He pressed a loving kiss in between her eyes, and then on her nose, “I don’t think the stores are open right now.” She rolled her eyes at him, and pinched his nipple. 

“Hey!” his eyes darkened and they went back to kissing.

For the second time this morning, she woke in his embrace. His chest was rising and falling steadily in such a soothing manner. She wanted to let it bring her back into a deep sleep, but she wanted to find that ornament. Standing from the couch, she was met with chilly air. She threw on her pajamas and covered Shawn tightly with the blanket. She wandered into the kitchen with her phone and texted her mom. 

iMessage to Mom: Do you still have that ornament you got me? The bauble?

Thankfully her mom was an early riser and replied immediately.

iMessage from Mom: I packed it in with the bins dad brought over.

iMessage to Mom: I’ll look again

She walked back out to the mess she created earlier, and slowly put the things back into the bin, stopping to look through it as she did. Nothing. 

Shawn sighed from his sleep and turned over on the couch. She looked at him and smiled. He was something else. It was then that she noticed the ornament boxes she had tossed at him before. She smiled at herself. How stupid. She sat on the edge of the couch, careful to not jostle her boyfriend. She picked up the ornaments from the table and looked them over. She quietly laughed at her mom’s gag present.

“What do you think about this one?”

“Babe, that’s hideous.” Shawn was eagerly pointing at a bright yellow tree with sparkly streamers woven into the branches.

“But if we’re going artificial, why not go artificial?”

“I hope you’re joking.”

“Babe, I have no idea what you’re talking about. This is great.” She looked at him with a straight face and he looked right back at her. A smile started to work its way onto her face and they both grinned and broke into laughter. 

“Okay, maybe not.” He grabbed her hand as they strolled through the different varieties of trees.

“What about this?”

“No, it kind of looks like it’s tinged blue.”

“Huh, I see what you mean.”

It took two hours, steamy hot chocolate, and countless kisses, but they found the perfect tree. Then it took another hour to purchase and maneuver the tree home, and then assemble it. They sat admiring the naked tree in the corner, residing where the storage bins had been before. It was beautiful and you really couldn’t tell it was a fake. Shawn kissed her temple. She looked up at him and pulled his head down to kiss him soundly. She pulled away and walked over to the mound of ornaments.

“Remember how I was looking for that bauble this morning –from my mom? She gave it to me right after we started dating.” 

“Yeah, you found it?”

“I did!” She walked back over and passed it to him with a laugh. He took the ball and read the elegant script: Mentally Dating Shawn Mendes.

He laughed, “well, your mom was right. You are mental.” She threw the pillow from off the couch at his head. It hit him squarely in the face, and she cackled, dancing away from his arms. He delicately placed the ornament down, and grabbed her by the waist. He tossed her onto the couch and began to tickle every inch of her. They were both in tears and stitches when they had finally calmed down. Cuddling on the couch, they admired the tree. She stood up, new determination setting in. “Let’s decorate it!”

“Give me a second and I’ll help.” Shawn stood and discreetly picked up the bauble from the coffee table. He went into the kitchen and dug around in the junk drawer for a sharpie. He came back into the living room and hung the bauble on the tree.

“Babe, look at the first ornament up!” She put down the bin she had been going through and looked at the bauble. She laughed and then looked closer noticing it had been written on.

Mentally Dating Married to Shawn Mendes ? 

She gasped and covered her mouth. She could feel her eyes start to prickle. She turned around and saw him on one knee behind her with an open ring box. Her eyes went wide, and the tears came.

“I wasn’t planning on doing it this way, but I-I’m going with it. I love how smart you are, how funny, and beautiful you are. You always keep me on my toes. Even when we fight, I know there’s no one else I would rather be arguing with. I—”he paused overwhelmed with emotion “I—I don’t know what I would do without you in my life. You’re my everything…” He was crying and his voice was cracking. She couldn’t see straight through her own tears. “Will you –will you marry me?”

She chuckled, and kneeled down grabbing his hands in her own. She reached over wiping his tears away. And she kissed him. Her hands cradled his head, pouring everything into the kiss, and his hands found her hips pulling her closer and then they wrapped tightly around her body.

[the-write-stufff]

After The Prom

Ok so I wrote a little Derry Girls story to get you all in a cracker mood for tonight’s series finale. It’s inspired by S02E05 and focuses on what might have happened between Erin and James after the Prom. You can read it here (down below). I hope you enjoy! This my first ever fic so please go easy on me, thanks!

After The Prom

Erin and Michelle were walking to school on their own for once. Orla had left early to hit the sweet shop to stock up for the week and Claire hadn’t shown up yet. “Why are you acting weird Erin?”. “I’m not acting weird...no way….Jose!”. “You are you. You’re making Clare look like that little fat fella? What’s he called? Dead calm all the time? The wee statue fella?”. “Buddha?”. “Aye that’s him”. Erin rolled her eyes. 

”Well maybe it's because you mum found out about the dresses and you know robbing her credit card”. “Oh that”. “Oh that! THAT is just fraud Michelle!”. “Wise up will ya”. “She could have rang the police!”. “My ma’s no rat. She doesn’t deal with them peelers”. “No you’re just grounded for a week”. “It will be grand calm down. She’ll forget about it by Wednesday”. “You definitely didn’t mention my name?”. “Cool the jets. John Paul did you a favour there. I was able to bring your one back”. He’d done her another favour. Letting her see what was right in front of her all along. They walked on in silence for a few minutes. Erin’s mind drifted back to the present and she started to panic. Michelle was never this quiet. Really? What the hell? Why wasn’t she speaking? Had James mentioned something?

“Where do ye get to on Saturday?”. Erin laughed. She was laughing too much. Why was she laughing?! The question wasn't even funny. “Saturday?”. “Saturday. After the prom? Where we got dunked in tomato juice for no fucking reason! We should have let Jenny Joyce get drenched. Jesus why are you being such a melt Erin?”. Shit what does she know! “I am not!”. “I just thought you might have got off with someone”. Shit shit shit. “But I smelt like a lasagne Michelle”. “Didn’t stop me”. “Jesus Michelle!”. “My dress was ruined didn’t mean my night wasn’t going to be”. “You really thought I’d gotten off someone?”. “ Yeah. I didn't see you leaving and Orla said you got in after her”. “Well she still can’t tell the time so...”. “But then I was like this is Erin. Gerry Adams would get off with the Queen quicker than Erin would get off with a fella”. “Thanks alot”. “I can’t believe Orla took your Grandda Joe to the Prom”. “I thought it was kind of sweet actually”. “Aye. He’s not bad looking for an aul fella”. “Oh my god Michelle!”. “I’m just saying...”. “Please don’t say it...”. “If I was like 10 years older..”. “Oh god..”. “I would”. “Jesus”. “I mean I would ri...”. “I get the picture Michelle I’m gonna boke”   

“Where did you all get to!!!”. Claire had jumped up on them with Orla. Michelle and Erin jumped. “Jesus where did she come from?”. “Fuck knows!”. “I was the one who had to deal with everything! I was the one that had to explain to Jennie Joyce! I was the one who had to apologise to her! I was the one who had to stop Mae”. “She wrestled her to the ground” Orla had started to follow the conversation all the while chewing on the penny jellies she had just bought. “Seriously?”. “Aye. It was cracker”. “Don’t pretend you didn’t enjoy that Claire”. “Michelle!”. “I enjoyed it!” added Orla. “It’s not funny you all ran off and left me!”. “You had wee James to help you..Knight in Shiteing Armour...you should have just blamed it on him!”. Erin blushed. “He ran off too! I was all on my own. And I was trying not to sweat on that stupid dress”. She opened her bag and handed the dress over. “Claire this is a mass of creases. You could have at least ironed it”. “You’re lucky you’re even getting it back at all Michelle!”. “Her ma knows” Erin wanted to keep the conversation focused on the dresses not what happened after. “Sweet suffering jesus!”. “Aye. But I kept your names out of it”. “Thank god” Claire blessed herself in relief. “For now!”. “Well when we get to school you’ll have to go and apologise to Jenny Joyce”. “I suppose so”. “No fucking way. If wasn’t for the wee Prom Queen I wouldn’t have had my dress ruined and I wouldn’t have missed out on the shift”. “You told me you got off with someone”. “Yeah only one out of the two. Doesn’t count”. “Well at least try. I think she thinks we were in on it with Mae”. “Good call there Claire, you can really pick them”. “I didn’t know she was deranged did I?”. “You should have just went with James...actually no. Still not that desperate to choose him over the psychobitch”. Erin wanted to defend him but couldn’t. She thought of him arriving at the door. The way he looked at her as she came down the stairs. Even in that Easter dress.

“Where is the little fuck wit anyway?”. Erin was back to reality. “What?”. “Where’s James?”. “I don’t know. How would I know? Jesus he’s your cousin Michelle, can you not keep track of him yourself!”. “Seriously, no need to cack yourself! That's Claire’s job. What the fuck is up with you?”. Erin panicked. The three of them staring were at her waiting for her to speak. Do they know? How could they know? They can’t. Michelle would have said something before now and given her a right slagging. “You didn't have one of them funny scones for breakfast by accident?”. “No!” “I had three!”. “They were just normal scones Orla”. “Maybe it was the raisins but I was buzzing”. “Just the Prom took a lot out of me that’s all”. “You getting stood up and all? Told you John Paul was a dick”.

They made it to school and headed straight to assembly where they found James. “Where the fuck were you?”. “I left early. I had an essay to finish in the library”. “I didn’t think you could get anymore fucking boring”. He gave Erin a quick smile before turning away. Was he avoiding her this morning? Finishing an essay? Erin was distracted by Sr Michael beginning assembly.

“I have been informed of the incident which occurred at the school formal over the weekend. Unfortunately I wasn’t there to witness it”. She smirked over at Jenny. “One student has already been suspended. And be rest assured we will find out if anyone else may have been involved. So could I see Erin Quinn, Claire Devlin, Michelle Mallon and the wee English fella in my office straight after this. Now for prayers and if any of you lot were involved you’re going to need some intervention from Our Lord! Our Father Who Art in Heaven...”.

“Stay calm. She has nothing on us girls” Michelle was topping her lip gloss in preparation. “Yeah we can just explain it calmly and carefully that Mae was behind everything. It will be fine”. Claire was pacing the hall. “Aye” Erin was only half listening and was more interested in get a sly look at James and trying to work out what he was thinking. Sr Michael opened her office door. “You lot can come in now”. “It was all Mae’s fault...”. James followed them all in and hadn’t even got through the door before Claire had started. “I didn’t know she was unhinged. How could I Sister? Psychopaths are good at hiding the fact that they’re psychos we knew nothing until James noticed the buckets and said “She’s doing a Carrie” but I’d never seen Carrie! So I didn’t...”. “Let me stop you there Claire...You’ve never seen Carrie?”. “No Sister”. “Great film. I love the mother in it. Go on”. “Well we were trying to stop her pulling the buckets, Mae I mean and save Jenny but she wouldn’t stop and Jenny didn’t understand. She thought we were trying to ruin her moment but we weren’t I swear and so it’s just one big misunderstanding except for Mae. She’s pure evil and she’s giving the Chinese community in Donegal a really bad name”. “Anyone else who pauses for breath when they speak want to add anything?”. “No Sister. I think Claire hit everything to be honest” said Erin. The others nodded in confirmation. “Ok. I’ve spoken to Mae’s old head teacher and she confirmed she had been previously expelled for bullying. For once I believe you”. “Really?”. They all looked at each other. It must have been a good weekend for Sr Michael. They didn’t know she was still happy from the ceasefire and the thoughts of Jenny getting her comeuppance. An incident like this was a long time coming for Jenny Joyce. “So it seems you may be off the hook ladies. This time. However I’ve set up a meeting with Jenny Joyce this afternoon so you can apologise for ruining her “big moment”. Her words not mine obviously”. “For fu….” Erin elbowed Michelle. “..ecking great idea Sister”. “Thank you Michelle. Off you all go now! Hurry up!”.

“Right so Claire’s gone shopping with her ma. Orla’s off at stepacise, or dancercise or whatever the fuck she does and James’s gone off to work on that project. Told me to give you this by the way”. “History book?”. “Aye said it was for some project or other. I don’t know. I’ll have to start paying attention in that class. In every class to be honest. So that just leaves me and you”. “Actually Michelle I have a lot of homework to do”. “Since when were you such a dry shite!”. “I’m sorry Michelle. Maybe tomorrow aye?”. Erin thought for a minute. “I thought you were grounded?”. “Fuck!!”. Michelle stormed off in the direction of home shouting bye as she ran. Erin flicked through the book Michelle had given her as she walked home. Why had he given her this? Why hadn’t he give it to her himself? She knew they did have a history project. Well one essay but in didn’t require the hours he had apparently being spending in the library. She was convinced he was avoiding her. Then she saw it. A small note folded between two pages. “Meet you at the gate at the old walls??”. He meant the City Walls. 4.30pm?”.

“Where are you going at this hour?”. “Out”. “Out where?”. “Just out on a dander mammy”. “One your own?”. “Why not? Can a woman not go for a walk on her own?”. “Not you Erin. Do you not have homework to be doing?”. “This is for my homework. History project. On the walls”. “Do you ever do a history project that’s not about the walls?”. “Mammy everything is about the walls. They are spectacular”. “Ok don’t leave it too late. And I want you home before it gets dark!”.

Erin wrapped her denim jacket around her and headed for City Walls that ran around the city. He was already there when she got there. “Hey”. “Hi. You got my note then. I wasn’t sure you’d turn up”. “You’re lucky Michelle didn’t have a read of that book”. “Michelle, read? I think she’s allergic”. They started walking to nowhere in particular. “Do you like reading? Like for fun? Not for school” Erin asked. She wanted to keep the conversation going and not let things get awkward. “Yeah, haven’t had much time lately”. “Me neither. I’d love to be able to do that”. “Read?”. “No I mean write a novel or a play”. “Why don’t you?”. “Haha. Yeah!”. “You’re clever and funny. You could. You should try. I’d read it”. “I meant to thank you again for Saturday”. “Erin you don’t have to thank me...”. “But you didn’t have to...you missed your thing...and you didn’t have to walk me home or...kiss me goodnight...you didn’t...”. “I wanted to...”. “Kiss me or walk me home?”. “Both”. “You can again if you want to...I understand if don’t want to...”. “Kiss you or walk you home?”. “Both”.

“What the fuck is up with Erin?” Michelle was leaving school with Claire. “What do you mean?”. “Well where is she?”. “Doing her history project?”. “Every afternoon for the past week? And at the weekend? I know she’s loves them fucking walls but not that fucking much. Either she’s got a fella or she’s planning on marrying them like that one that married the wall...”. “The Berlin Wall??”. “Oh aye”. “Where’s James and Orla?”. “Orla? Who the fuck knows? And James is doing my head in as well”. “Why what’s he doing?”. “He’s fucking happy….like all the time. It was bad enough when he was just annoying. What the fuck does he have to be happy about? He’s a youngfella with an English accent living in Derry”. “I haven’t seen him lately...You don’t think him and Erin are…??”. “Riding?”. “No..not like that...like seeing each other?”. “You’re fucking funny Claire. She’s a rare duck but not that fucking rare”. “We could ask her? Maybe there’s something wrong? We could stake out the library”. “That sounds like a barrel of laughs Claire”.

“I’m just going to head the library...”.

“I’m gonna go to the library...”.

“Actually no I’m just head home”

“Wait I’ll make my way home with you...”.

They had said both in unison. Erin put her head down and started walking towards home. Orla followed her oblivious to the awkwardness. Michelle and Claire were still staring at James who reddened and followed after Erin. “What the fuck is going on?” Michelle whispered to Claire.

They ended up following Erin home. She stopped them at the front door. “Actually I think my mammy’s doing dinner and she might not want you all under her feet”. They went to leave the garden and head home with Orla behind them. “Orla I didn’t mean you..”. Erin jumped as Mary opened the door. “What are ye wains doing standing on the doorstep in the cold? Come in and have some tea. Actually Michelle I have that big bowl for your mam”. They all headed inside. “No really it’s grand Mary. My ma’s forgotten about it and all”. “Aye if you’re sure love”. It was worth another try she thought.

“How are yas getting on with that history project girls? Our Erin seems to be in that library day and night”. “Grand. Piss of piss really Mary”. “Fine actually thanks Mrs Quinn” said Orla grabbing biscuit from the table. “What history project” asked Orla. “You all seem very laid back about it? Erin?”. “Mammy do you want me to dish up the sprouts?”. She tried to change the subject. “Why are you spending so much time on the project?”. “I’m just struggling to find the words that’s all”. She could feel herself going purple. “Struggling to find the words? You Erin?”. “Yes Mammy”. Mary eyed her disbelievingly. She was up to something alright.

The gang tucked in the tea and reminisced about the prom. “You looked well the other night Joe”. “Why thank you Michelle. It was a great night. It was an honour to spend it with my wee granddaughter”. “Do you work out Joe?”. “I walk up the hill to church of a thursday so I do”. “It was a terrible what happened to Jenny Joyce wasn’t” Erin tried to steer the conversation away from her grandad. “Oh aye. It was terrible what happened to you Erin. Did you hear from that boy in the end?”. Erin stared at her peas. “No aunt Sarah”. “Forget him Erin. He’s not worth your time”. Grandda Joe stood up from the table and put a hand on her shoulder. “It was good of your James there to take you? Your mother was telling me. Good on you son”. He left them and went to watch the television. “James went with you? Were you going to tell us or what like?”. “Did you not cop on Michelle when we arrived together?”. “I just thought he’d bumped in to you on the way home from the creepy plunger convention”. “It’s Doctor Who..” James corrected her under his breath. “Well now you know”. Erin jumped up to start on the dishes so she could hide her face from the other others. She knew Michelle would jump to conclusions but Claire and Orla hadn’t said anything. She didn’t want them saying anything. Michelle turned to James: “You’re a sly wee fucker aren’t you?”. The dinner wound down and the gang made to leave. Not before Mary tried to sneak the big bowl in to Michelle’s bag. “Mary honestly it’s yours now”.

Erin and Orla said goodbye on the doorstep. “What’s it will mothers and bowls?” pondered Michelle. “Aye. It’s scary. Will we get like that do you think?” Erin would take a conversation about bowls at that point in time. “Claire defo will”. “I like a good bowl better than anyone but I’ll never be like that”. “Forget it Claire. We all turn into in to our parents”. They said their goodbyes and her and Orla headed inside. She sneaked a look at her mam and dad before going upstairs. They were laughing and joking as Mary filled him in on all the gossip from work. They could be sort of cute together when they weren’t under the eye of her, Joe or Sarah. Most of the time it made her want to boke but she thought to herself if she ended up like them she’d be lucky. She headed upstairs wishing she had have been able to see James off on her own.

The awkwardness had gone on for another week. James would disappear straight after school and Erin would walk home and find a way to sneak off back to the library. Michelle had given in to staking out the library after her suspicions had been raised by Joe telling them James had taken Erin to the prom. Why had neither of them told her? If it was just nothing they would have said. She was sitting with Claire and Orla in the quiet side of the library hiding their faces behind books. Occasionally spying from behind them to see if Erin had entered the library. “Orla...”. Michelle took the book from her and put it the right side up. “I was enjoying that!”. “What the fuck do you have on your face?”. She had two stripes of brown face paint on each cheek. She looked like a cat with whiskers. “Camouflage Michelle”. “I know this is Derry and all but we’re only in the library”. “Shhhh. Here she is!”. The slid down in their chairs until she walked past.

“Come on girls!”. Claire led the way. They followed Erin to the back of the library. They could hear talking so they hid behind a bookshelf. “Either she’s talking to herself or someone’s with her”. “Not shit Sherlock. Come on Claire!”. Michelle went to jump out from behind the bookshelf. “We can’t just approach her”. “It’s the library Claire. A public place. Not the jungle. Come on!”.

“Come in James live a little!”. Erin hopped up on the desk behind her. “But someone could catch us!”. “No one comes back here James. It’s all the books about your lot’s history”. She fluttered her eyelashes. She knew he would hold out much longer after that. “Okay but quickly. Be our luck if today was the day Jenny Joyce wanted to research Cromwell”. “She wouldn’t need to. She’s Cromwell reincarnated”. She grabbed his hand and pulled him towards her. He pushed her hair behind her ear. It had surprised her. How much she liked him. The wee English fella. Michelle’s annoying wee cousin. He was kind, funny, she could actually talk to him about stuff life, family, history, poetry, anything. He was also kind of cute. Especially with that new haircut. And he was a good kisser. She finally got why Katya had gone straight for him. It had confused her at the time but now she had joined the dots. Really she hadn’t been annoyed at Katya. Well maybe a wee bit but she had been jealous. Not in a romantic way at the time but as a friend. He had been spending all his time with her. Now...she wanted him to herself. As a boyfriend? James...her boyfriend? He leaned in to kiss her. Yes definitely her boyfriend.

“What the ACTUAL FUCK!!”. Nearly everyone in the library rushed over at the sound of Michelle yelling. Erin pushed James away. So hard he ended up knocking over a bookshelf. The clatter of the books alerted anyone else who wasn’t aware of the drama unfolding. “What are you two fucking doing? Are you actually necking James?”.

“No, he kissed me! He took me to the Prom and I think he got the wrong impression”. “Erin!”. “I’m sorry James I know this is hard for you….Maybe things are different in England...”. “But you said you liked me...”. Erin could hear the sadness in his voice but she just couldn’t face the others knowing. It was too embarrassing. Especially being caught like that. She’d never live it down. Half the school seemed to be in the library. She had wanted to break it to the gang gently after a good while then the school would follow. “James don’t be such a dick just because a girl walks in to the prom with ya it doesn’t mean she wants your tongue down her throat”. “I didn’t do that...she asked me to...I wouldn’t...I...Erin?!”. He pleaded with her but she couldn’t look at him. She just froze. He didn’t even say anything else. He pushed his way through the crowd that had gathered and left the library. “I’m so sorry. I’m gonna kill him Erin”. “I’m sorry too” she whispered to herself.

I’m the dick. I should have said something but on no for the first time in my life I had to keep my gob shut. She waited by the wall at the usual time and place that evening but he didn’t show. She hadn’t expected him to. She had just hoped he would. So she could explain and apologise. She couldn’t go to his house for fear of meeting Michelle. She would barely get a chance to say hello to him in school let alone properly talk to him about what had happened. She walked home feeling the winter cold for the first time in two weeks missing her hand being in his and how he would put them in his jacket pocket to keep them warm.

“Could you give James this back and say thanks?”. “You shouldn’t be thanking him after he stuck his tongue down your throat”. “It was just a misunderstanding Michelle, just leave it”. “I don’t know how he can show his face around here”. “It’s school he has to go. It’s against the law for him not to!”. “Ok Claire. Kavanagh QC there”. “Where is he?” Erin asked. She wanted to try and speak with him. She doubted they would get a moment alone during school. Everyone and anyone would be watching them after what transpired in the library. “Left for school before I even got up. You’re grand Erin. He won’t be launching himself at you when I’m around. That’s the English for you they think they can just take what they want”. “James isn’t like that Michelle. I think he genuinely misunderstood”. Erin reddened. Claire was defending him and she couldn’t. She was a coward. She looked at Claire. She had faced the ridicule of her friends, family and her school when she had decided to come out as being a lesbian. She couldn’t even tell her friends that she liked a boy.

When they got to school they headed to assembly. Erin tried to discreetly scan the hall for James. Where was he? He didn’t really know anyone else. “Don’t worry Erin! He’s moved on”. Erin turned to see where Michelle was pointing. He was standing with Charlene Kavanagh. She was laughing at something he said. Obviously she had heard about what happened in the library or if she did she hadn’t believed it.

They crossed passed with him in the hallway on the way to their first class. They were all in the same maths class so he couldn’t avoid her without mitching off. “Having fun with Charlene you creepy fuck?”. “Yes. Turns out she’s in to Doctor Who”. “We’ll have to tell her to wear one of them beekeeper things to you off her then”. James just looked at Erin before scoffing and walking down the back of the class and sitting beside Charlene.

“I don’t want to talk to you right now”. Erin ran to catch up with him. He had been the first out the school gate. Obviously trying to get home without seeing her. “Please...I..I want to apologise”. “Apologise? You humiliated me Erin”. “I’m so sorry”. “I’ve been slagged every day since I got here and I’ve put up with it. I’m the new kid. The wee English fella. Going to the girls’ school. Even people now thinking I’m a creep. Saying things behind my back. I’ve taken it but I can’t take it from you Erin”. “I didn’t mean it. I just didn’t want to tell them like that”. “That you’re with someone or that you’re with me?”. “We could go on as we were”. “Erin I never wanted or expected you to tell everyone but I can’t deal with with you being... ashamed of me...”. “I’m not...Please I miss you and...”. “I can't be with you when you're like this. I’m sorry. I like you when you're being yourself. You’re one of the greatest people I’ve ever met but not when you’re trying to fit in with the others”. She watched him walk down the street and make his way home.

She had to think of a way to apologize. To show everyone she liked him. Most importantly to show him. Her dad came in to her room. “You alright love?”. He could tell something was up with her. She had seemed upset since she had gotten home from school. “Kinda”. “Do you want to talk about it?”. “Not really. Sorry”. “No bother. You know where to find me if you change your mind”. “Hiding in the attic from mammy?”. “No cleaning out the attic...You can help me if you want. It mind take your mind off it”.

She followed him up the ladder. He helped her in to the attic. Erin had a look through the heaps of stuff. Some family keepsakes, some junk and some items from her childhood. Some of it distracted her for a minute but her mind soon wandered back to James. She wondered where he was and what he was up to. If he was with Charlene. Watching Doctor Who. Ring! Gerry stepped forward with a guitar and placed it around Erin’s neck. She gave it a strum. It was out of tune but sounded ok. “Where did this come from?”. “That’s mine! From before you were born. I used to play to your mother when we were courting”. “Courting?” Erin laughed. “Going out. Dating. I used to play that trying to impress her. I’d write her little songs”. “Did she like them? Were they any good?”. “Well she married me didn’t she?”. An idea formed in Erin’s head. She picked up the guitar “How long does it take you learn how to play the guitar da?”.  

“Today’s morning song will be performed by..Jen...Erin Quinn...interesting”. Erin made her way on to the stage struggling with the guitar. “Jesus, what the fuck is she doing?”. “Can she even play the guitar?” asked Claire. Erin struggled to get the notes right for the first chord. “I guess not”. “Hold on. Give me a sec. I can get this”. She tried to remember the chords her father had taught her. When she did remember them it took ages to get from one to another. “Fuck me. Even the Jesus on the cross up there is laughing”. She pointed to the statue of the crucifixion above the stage.

The crowd began to titter. “In fairness I tried. I practiced all weekend and the guitar is not easy to learn I can tell ya. I’m sorry. This isn’t me” Erin put down the guitar. “...this is”. Erin stood before the microphone and started singing. At first he voice was cautious and faltering but she grew in to the song and sounded quite good.

“I know I felt like this before.

But now I'm feeling it even more

Because it came from you

Then I open up and see

The person falling here is me

A different way to be...”

She hoped he understood. They had listened to the song before on her walkman before. Erin climbed down off the stage walked towards the gang. “Seriously what the fuck is she doing?”. Michelle slouched down in her chair pretending not to know her. “She’s coming towards us” Claire was intrigued. She stopped in front of James. “I'm sorry I shouldn't have lied and let them make fun of you and I'm sorry...that's not me”. She grabbed him by his blazer and kissed him. The other students giggled, cheered and Jenny Joyce fainted.

“What the actual FU...”. “Thank you Michelle. Well after that little performance I have no option but to insist you two are kept separate at all times. We can’t be having anymore carry on like this”. “Come on Sr it's not like we have no self control it's not like we're animals”. “You've never seen you two kiss obviously” Michelle mimed vomiting. “Does that mean I have to move out of the house Erin?” “She only meant me and James, Orla”.  “My office now the pair of you”. He brushed her hand before they both followed Sr Michael.

“Did Jenny Joyce give you a good steever in the head the other night and you have concussion or something?”. “No Michelle”. “Then what is it?”. “Did you join a cult?”. “No!” . “Did he bring you to that creepy convention and someone plungered ya?”. “No, I just like him Michelle”. “James?”. “The wee, English, annoying, prick of a cousin of mine?”. “Yes”. “Curly hair?”. “Yes!”. “I just can’t get my head around it”. “Me neither!”. “Claire! I thought you’d at least be on my side”. “Am I...it’s just it’s James...and you”. “I think you make a cracking couple”. “Thank you Orla”. “See Orla thinks this is alright it’s definitely fucked up”. “Michelle I like him. He’s not like David Donnelly or John Paul”. “John Paul was a ride. A dick but a ride”. “And he gets me. He likes me for me”.

“Poor James, he’ll have no one to hang out with”. “Cool it Claire, look. Jenny Joyce has already taken him under her wing. Poor Bitch. Sorry Erin. He has a bit of a fan club”. “Fan club?”. Erin laughed. “I’m not messing. Some of the girls are mad for him after you declared your love for him. I heard Jenny Joyce fainted with the romance of it all”.

Jenny saw them looking over and made her away across the room. James grimaced and waved over. “Erin rest assured we’ll well look after him”. James was surrounded by a group of girls fawning around him. Jealousy rose up in Erin. “Back off Jenny” she uttered through gritted teeth. She must have really sounded angry as Jenny quickly scuttled off and dispersed the group that had formed around James.

“Jesus Erin, you’re actually jealous of Jenny Joyce!”. “I’m not jealous I just sick at the cheek coming over here telling us she’s looking after him. We’ve been doing that for 2 years”. “No you’re jealous Erin”.

“I sort of miss him I've no one to take the piss out of”. “You take the piss out of us all the time Michelle!” Claire  looked to the heaves”. “Aye. But it's not the same. He just takes it”.

“Hi Mrs Quinn”. “Come in love”. Mary brought James through to the kitchen. “Mr Quinn, Mrs McCool”. “Hi there love”. “Sir”. He couldn’t remember Granddad Joe’s surname. “Is Michelle not with ya?”. “Or Claire?”. “Or Orla?”. “No, I’m on my own. Is Erin in?”. “Yeah, she’s upstairs”. “May I go see her please?”. “Sure love. You know where to go. Are Michelle and Claire on their way or…?”. “No just me”. He turned and went up the stairs.

He wasn’t?. Erin and him weren’t? Mary’s mind was racing. “Mary you’re not letting him go up there on his own are you?” Gerry stood up and went to listen at the bottom of the stairs. “Why not?”. He returned to the kitchen after not being able to hear anything. “He’s a teenage  boy”. “I thought he was gay?” Mary was more saying it to herself than the others. “Aye, you got a problem with the gays Gerry? Why are you so prejudiced?”. “I’m not. I’m just not comfortable with my daughter being up there alone with a teenage lad”. “I don’t think he’s gay Mary because Orla was telling me that Erin kissed him during assembly. I think it’s quite sweet actually” Aunt Sarah returned to painting her nails. “Here you waste of space. You should be ashamed of yourself letting your young daughter get up to god knows what upstairs with that wee English gobshite!”. “You just said he was gay!”. “Well you should have made sure before you flung your wee daughter at him”. “Calm down! I' ll go check”.

Mary climbed the stairs to the landing and put her ear to Erin’s bedroom door. “Ok one more please then I promise I will give your space hospital thing a go”. “It's not even set in a hospital!”. “Well I'll never know unless you finish this one”. “Ok then we’ll watch Doctor Who”. “Ok”. Mary snuck the door open a inch so she could see. They were sat on the bed. James had a book in his hand and Erin had her head on his shoulder. “Emma was almost ready to sink under the agitation of this moment. The dread of being awakened from the happiest dream, was perhaps the most prominent feeling. "I cannot make speeches, Emma," he soon resumed; and in a tone of such sincere, decided, intelligible tenderness as was tolerably convincing. "If I loved you less, I might be able to talk about it more. But you know what I am”.

“Why are you laughing?”. “Because you can do the voices” “That's just my voice”. “I know just we can't. We can't. Sound funny if Emma was almost ready to have a cack attack wouldn’t!”. Mary smiled and gently closed the door and left them to it.

[bitterjellydraws]

(more Stardew Valley fan art because I really play a lot of it lately)

After a whole year Brunito finally wears not dirt-cacked clothes and got to dance with someone at the flowerdance. You’re doing it Bruno, slowly unbecoming the ermit who’s only friend is the local hobo !!

(I was pleasantly surprised to see him dance on the Bachelorettes side. Let’s be honest he probably hasn’t worn a dress shirt since the Joja days but he needed some nice, white clothes)

find me elsewhere | commission info | shop | ☕️?

[diamondsandlemons]

🖊 🖊

OK, I’ll talk about some more recent OCs this time. Also of a… different type than my other OCs

Not too long ago I was at the LEGO store at a local shopping mall, and they had these open containers of Lego mini-fig pieces that you could play with, and buy whatever you put together, if you wanted. I made these… well actually, the vampire one was already completed when I got there… but I put the other one together.

Their names are Coven and Draven (although I didn’t actually name them until later), and they’re girlfriends.

I liked the pair of them (criminal chef and vampire) enough to take a picture and remember them. I didn’t buy the mini-figs though. But now I’d kinda like to go back there and see if I can find the same parts to bring them back to life.

Also, like a few years ago probably, a friend of mine was talking about the character Captain Jack Harkness from Doctor Who, but he accidentally said Japtain Cack Darkness. That name had stuck around in my head, along with a variation on it I came up with: Japtain Cack Heartless.

Anyway, cut forward to when I have Super Smash Bros Ultimate and want to play around with the Mii Fighters. The first pair I made were Japtain Cack Darkness and his daughter Japtain Cack Heartless

Then I made Coven and Draven (I actually gave them names during the Mii creation process)

Since I made them together in pairs like this, I decided that the Japtains are vampire hunters, making the two factions natural enemies (Coven isn’t a vampire, but she is closely affiliated with one, so that’s basically just as bad).

Also Coven is wearing orange because prison-orange was the closest thing I could get to the black-and-white stripes from her mini-fig. I could have just made her wear black or white, but clearly the other three of these Miis have that covered. 

And then of course, their Mii Fighter forms in SSBU:

(the Japtains in this image are flipped, for effect).

Unfortunately, Smash Ultimate doesn’t have a chef’s hat, the closest I could get was the Chibi-Robo hat. I guess that makes Coven somewhat of a technology expert in addition to her other talents (She was holding a boom-box in her original Lego figure after all). 

So yeah basically they’re just a very basic idea for a story/conflict. If it evolves any further its based on random events that happen in Smash, or whatever.

For example:

J.C. Darkess has been training J.C. Heartless to be an effective vampire hunter since birth. Heartless is still pretty young and is still in training, but is never the less a more-than-competent warrior who could give an average adult fighter a run for their money(I kinda wish the Smash Mii Fighters were allowed to be different heights.

Coven is totally non-magical (Draven is the supernatural one in the relationship), all of her power comes from her talents: Cooking, technology, and crime. Sometimes she gets annoying calls from people who looked her name up in the phone-book who think she’s a witch ‘cause her name is Coven. 

J.C. Heartless is mute

Coven has been caught and sent to prison in the past, but she escaped and got away on a train

Also the Tomodatachi Life stage can have some pretty funny situations ( some examples of which are under this link https://imgur.com/a/7Jr59dN )

[baskinrobbinswarwick]

Is this your fave flavor? Prove it! Can you tell us its name? ☺️

We know you’ve been wondering – what Baskin robbins flavor matches your innermost self? Which mélange of scrumptious sweetness best describes the uniqueness that is you? Lucky for you, our experts can discern exactly which flavor camp you fall into – and what it says about you.

What’s your favorite weekend activity?

Relaxing with a good book or my favorite TV show

Biking, skiing, skateboarding, running – whatever gets me moving

!Catching a live concert

Volunteering with my favorite non-profit

Catching up with good friends (usually over ice cream)

Getting my culture on by visiting a museum or gallery

[mostly-history]

Following Chamberlain's broadcast, a series of short official announcements instructed listeners that the blowing of whistles or blaring of horns was now forbidden since these could be mistaken for an air-raid siren.  (Indeed, a survey taken a few days earlier found that one in six people did not know what the signal for an air raid was, 'despite [this] having been publicized widely by the government, also mentioned in many newspapers and on films and wireless'.)  They were told that all theatres, cinemas, music halls and other places of entertainment were to be closed forthwith, and football matches and other events that attracted large crowds were forbidden – measures intended to minimize the chances of a large number of people being killed by a single bomb.  The London tubes were needed for transport and would, therefore, not be available as air-raid shelters.  Every citizen was then warned of [their] wartime responsibilities: to observe the blackout from dusk to dawn; to listen regularly to the BBC news broadcasts; to carry a gas mask everywhere; to make sure very member of the family was labelled with [their] name and address...and when the air-raid siren sounded to go immediately to a shelter and stay there until the All Clear sounded.

As the announcements drew to a close...the banshee wail of the air-raid siren filled the air.  The war was less than half an hour old, but it was what the nation had been led to expect: an immediate knockout blow from the air.  Two days earlier a leaflet had come through doors advising 'What To Do in an Air-Raid'.  It was as reassuring as it could be in the circumstances.  Citizens should not be unduly alarmed by any pictures they might have seen of the bombing of Barcelona during the Spanish Civil War.. British homes were more sturdily built than those in Spain, and offered considerable protection to the occupants.  The direct effects of a high-explosive bomb were usually limited to within around 30 feet of the bomb.  If fifty larger bombs fell within a square mile there was a hundred-to-one chance of a person experiencing 'what might be called a direct hit'.  People must, however, take shelter.

They should file into an orderly fashion into a public shelter – for in the previous few days 'Public Shelter' notices had been pasted on numerous buildings such as town halls, railway stations, offices and shops, and in parts of London the entrances to vaults and cellars that had been hurriedly requisitioned for the purpose.  Or they could make for the nearest trench, since digging night and day – which had been abandoned after the Munich crisis the previous autumn had seemed to promise peace – had been resumed in the parks and other open spaces, and local authorities were now urged to provide stairs, seats and sanitation in these timber- or concrete-lined mud hollows, or they could go to a purpose-built brick shelter.  Far more preferably, they could take shelter in their own homes, either in the corrugated-iron Anderson shelter in the back garden if there was one, or by scurrying into their basement cellar.  But although 1.5 million free Anderson shelters had been distributed by the outbreak of war (and were optimistically estimated to be able to protect 6 million people), and 50,000 were being turned out every week, this was still a third short of target.  In addition, many corrugated-iron kits had been delivered but not erected, while others had been erected in such a cack-handed way (for it was a task requiring considerable strength and some dexterity) as to represent danger rather than protection. Furthermore, Anderson shelters had not yet gone on sale to those householders who were not entitled to a free one because their annual income was in excess of £250 a year.

In sum, the protection of those in key danger zones still fell far short of what was expected to be required on the day that war broke out.

 - Wartime: Britain 1939-1945

[captainignatiuspigheart]

Mental Health Track 033 Well this is all going super well. Trashed yesterday, felt utterly drained and stumbling around. I spent the evening winding down appropriately: reading, sorting a few minor things, seeking out LEGO parts to build the other Bricktober Adventure Ride sets (not the fantasy one, that’s just a bit cack). Relaxed. Wound down. No fucking sleep. Got back up again, reorganised the tea and coffee cupboard, drank a huge amount of hot chocolate. Read all of Harry Harrison’s Mechanismo which I picked up in a Brighton charity shop. Went back to bed at four. Maybe slept a bit till I jerked out of sleep at six-forty imagining I could hear my alarm. Sank back into some kind of sleep with a Geiger wrapped around my feet until eight. So at least I’ve made sure my alarm definitely works. I’d abandoned the seven am thing because plainly I’m not getting enough sleep to make that feasible; eight’s not looking a lot better. I have done my ... >> Read On with Mental Health https://wp.me/pbprdx-90Z

[isekaisyouwithmyforearmlaser]

the ppl at the sub shop on campus really fuckin pack it w mayo i feel like im suckin loads of bowsers cack

[the-write-stufff]

Already missing Derry Girls??

Check out my fic!

Read here or here

After The Prom

Erin and Michelle were walking to school on their own for once. Orla had left early to hit the sweet shop to stock up for the week and Claire hadn’t shown up yet. “Why are you acting weird Erin?”. “I’m not acting weird...no way….Jose!”. “You are you. You’re making Clare look like that little fat fella? What’s he called? Dead calm all the time? The wee statue fella?”. “Buddha?”. “Aye that’s him”. Erin rolled her eyes. 

”Well maybe it's because you mum found out about the dresses and you know robbing her credit card”. “Oh that”. “Oh that! THAT is just fraud Michelle!”. “Wise up will ya”. “She could have rang the police!”. “My ma’s no rat. She doesn’t deal with them peelers”. “No you’re just grounded for a week”. “It will be grand calm down. She’ll forget about it by Wednesday”. “You definitely didn’t mention my name?”. “Cool the jets. John Paul did you a favour there. I was able to bring your one back”. He’d done her another favour. Letting her see what was right in front of her all along. They walked on in silence for a few minutes. Erin’s mind drifted back to the present and she started to panic. Michelle was never this quiet. Really? What the hell? Why wasn’t she speaking? Had James mentioned something?

“Where do ye get to on Saturday?”. Erin laughed. She was laughing too much. Why was she laughing?! The question wasn't even funny. “Saturday?”. “Saturday. After the prom? Where we got dunked in tomato juice for no fucking reason! We should have let Jenny Joyce get drenched. Jesus why are you being such a melt Erin?”. Shit what does she know! “I am not!”. “I just thought you might have got off with someone”. Shit shit shit. “But I smelt like a lasagne Michelle”. “Didn’t stop me”. “Jesus Michelle!”. “My dress was ruined didn’t mean my night wasn’t going to be”. “You really thought I’d gotten off someone?”. “ Yeah. I didn't see you leaving and Orla said you got in after her”. “Well she still can’t tell the time so...”. “But then I was like this is Erin. Gerry Adams would get off with the Queen quicker than Erin would get off with a fella”. “Thanks alot”. “I can’t believe Orla took your Grandda Joe to the Prom”. “I thought it was kind of sweet actually”. “Aye. He’s not bad looking for an aul fella”. “Oh my god Michelle!”. “I’m just saying...”. “Please don’t say it...”. “If I was like 10 years older..”. “Oh god..”. “I would”. “Jesus”. “I mean I would ri...”. “I get the picture Michelle I’m gonna boke”   

“Where did you all get to!!!”. Claire had jumped up on them with Orla. Michelle and Erin jumped. “Jesus where did she come from?”. “Fuck knows!”. “I was the one who had to deal with everything! I was the one that had to explain to Jennie Joyce! I was the one who had to apologise to her! I was the one who had to stop Mae”. “She wrestled her to the ground” Orla had started to follow the conversation all the while chewing on the penny jellies she had just bought. “Seriously?”. “Aye. It was cracker”. “Don’t pretend you didn’t enjoy that Claire”. “Michelle!”. “I enjoyed it!” added Orla. “It’s not funny you all ran off and left me!”. “You had wee James to help you..Knight in Shiteing Armour...you should have just blamed it on him!”. Erin blushed. “He ran off too! I was all on my own. And I was trying not to sweat on that stupid dress”. She opened her bag and handed the dress over. “Claire this is a mass of creases. You could have at least ironed it”. “You’re lucky you’re even getting it back at all Michelle!”. “Her ma knows” Erin wanted to keep the conversation focused on the dresses not what happened after. “Sweet suffering jesus!”. “Aye. But I kept your names out of it”. “Thank god” Claire blessed herself in relief. “For now!”. “Well when we get to school you’ll have to go and apologise to Jenny Joyce”. “I suppose so”. “No fucking way. If wasn’t for the wee Prom Queen I wouldn’t have had my dress ruined and I wouldn’t have missed out on the shift”. “You told me you got off with someone”. “Yeah only one out of the two. Doesn’t count”. “Well at least try. I think she thinks we were in on it with Mae”. “Good call there Claire, you can really pick them”. “I didn’t know she was deranged did I?”. “You should have just went with James...actually no. Still not that desperate to choose him over the psychobitch”. Erin wanted to defend him but couldn’t. She thought of him arriving at the door. The way he looked at her as she came down the stairs. Even in that Easter dress.

“Where is the little fuck wit anyway?”. Erin was back to reality. “What?”. “Where’s James?”. “I don’t know. How would I know? Jesus he’s your cousin Michelle, can you not keep track of him yourself!”. “Seriously, no need to cack yourself! That's Claire’s job. What the fuck is up with you?”. Erin panicked. The three of them staring were at her waiting for her to speak. Do they know? How could they know? They can’t. Michelle would have said something before now and given her a right slagging. “You didn't have one of them funny scones for breakfast by accident?”. “No!” “I had three!”. “They were just normal scones Orla”. “Maybe it was the raisins but I was buzzing”. “Just the Prom took a lot out of me that’s all”. “You getting stood up and all? Told you John Paul was a dick”.

They made it to school and headed straight to assembly where they found James. “Where the fuck were you?”. “I left early. I had an essay to finish in the library”. “I didn’t think you could get anymore fucking boring”. He gave Erin a quick smile before turning away. Was he avoiding her this morning? Finishing an essay? Erin was distracted by Sr Michael beginning assembly.

“I have been informed of the incident which occurred at the school formal over the weekend. Unfortunately I wasn’t there to witness it”. She smirked over at Jenny. “One student has already been suspended. And be rest assured we will find out if anyone else may have been involved. So could I see Erin Quinn, Claire Devlin, Michelle Mallon and the wee English fella in my office straight after this. Now for prayers and if any of you lot were involved you’re going to need some intervention from Our Lord! Our Father Who Art in Heaven...”.

“Stay calm. She has nothing on us girls” Michelle was topping her lip gloss in preparation. “Yeah we can just explain it calmly and carefully that Mae was behind everything. It will be fine”. Claire was pacing the hall. “Aye” Erin was only half listening and was more interested in get a sly look at James and trying to work out what he was thinking. Sr Michael opened her office door. “You lot can come in now”. “It was all Mae’s fault...”. James followed them all in and hadn’t even got through the door before Claire had started. “I didn’t know she was unhinged. How could I Sister? Psychopaths are good at hiding the fact that they’re psychos we knew nothing until James noticed the buckets and said “She’s doing a Carrie” but I’d never seen Carrie! So I didn’t...”. “Let me stop you there Claire...You’ve never seen Carrie?”. “No Sister”. “Great film. I love the mother in it. Go on”. “Well we were trying to stop her pulling the buckets, Mae I mean and save Jenny but she wouldn’t stop and Jenny didn’t understand. She thought we were trying to ruin her moment but we weren’t I swear and so it’s just one big misunderstanding except for Mae. She’s pure evil and she’s giving the Chinese community in Donegal a really bad name”. “Anyone else who pauses for breath when they speak want to add anything?”. “No Sister. I think Claire hit everything to be honest” said Erin. The others nodded in confirmation. “Ok. I’ve spoken to Mae’s old head teacher and she confirmed she had been previously expelled for bullying. For once I believe you”. “Really?”. They all looked at each other. It must have been a good weekend for Sr Michael. They didn’t know she was still happy from the ceasefire and the thoughts of Jenny getting her comeuppance. An incident like this was a long time coming for Jenny Joyce. “So it seems you may be off the hook ladies. This time. However I’ve set up a meeting with Jenny Joyce this afternoon so you can apologise for ruining her “big moment”. Her words not mine obviously”. “For fu….” Erin elbowed Michelle. “..ecking great idea Sister”. “Thank you Michelle. Off you all go now! Hurry up!”.

“Right so Claire’s gone shopping with her ma. Orla’s off at stepacise, or dancercise or whatever the fuck she does and James’s gone off to work on that project. Told me to give you this by the way”. “History book?”. “Aye said it was for some project or other. I don’t know. I’ll have to start paying attention in that class. In every class to be honest. So that just leaves me and you”. “Actually Michelle I have a lot of homework to do”. “Since when were you such a dry shite!”. “I’m sorry Michelle. Maybe tomorrow aye?”. Erin thought for a minute. “I thought you were grounded?”. “Fuck!!”. Michelle stormed off in the direction of home shouting bye as she ran. Erin flicked through the book Michelle had given her as she walked home. Why had he given her this? Why hadn’t he give it to her himself? She knew they did have a history project. Well one essay but in didn’t require the hours he had apparently being spending in the library. She was convinced he was avoiding her. Then she saw it. A small note folded between two pages. “Meet you at the gate at the old walls??”. He meant the City Walls. 4.30pm?”.

“Where are you going at this hour?”. “Out”. “Out where?”. “Just out on a dander mammy”. “One your own?”. “Why not? Can a woman not go for a walk on her own?”. “Not you Erin. Do you not have homework to be doing?”. “This is for my homework. History project. On the walls”. “Do you ever do a history project that’s not about the walls?”. “Mammy everything is about the walls. They are spectacular”. “Ok don’t leave it too late. And I want you home before it gets dark!”.

Erin wrapped her denim jacket around her and headed for City Walls that ran around the city. He was already there when she got there. “Hey”. “Hi. You got my note then. I wasn’t sure you’d turn up”. “You’re lucky Michelle didn’t have a read of that book”. “Michelle, read? I think she’s allergic”. They started walking to nowhere in particular. “Do you like reading? Like for fun? Not for school” Erin asked. She wanted to keep the conversation going and not let things get awkward. “Yeah, haven’t had much time lately”. “Me neither. I’d love to be able to do that”. “Read?”. “No I mean write a novel or a play”. “Why don’t you?”. “Haha. Yeah!”. “You’re clever and funny. You could. You should try. I’d read it”. “I meant to thank you again for Saturday”. “Erin you don’t have to thank me...”. “But you didn’t have to...you missed your thing...and you didn’t have to walk me home or...kiss me goodnight...you didn’t...”. “I wanted to...”. “Kiss me or walk me home?”. “Both”. “You can again if you want to...I understand if don’t want to...”. “Kiss you or walk you home?”. “Both”.

“What the fuck is up with Erin?” Michelle was leaving school with Claire. “What do you mean?”. “Well where is she?”. “Doing her history project?”. “Every afternoon for the past week? And at the weekend? I know she’s loves them fucking walls but not that fucking much. Either she’s got a fella or she’s planning on marrying them like that one that married the wall...”. “The Berlin Wall??”. “Oh aye”. “Where’s James and Orla?”. “Orla? Who the fuck knows? And James is doing my head in as well”. “Why what’s he doing?”. “He’s fucking happy….like all the time. It was bad enough when he was just annoying. What the fuck does he have to be happy about? He’s a youngfella with an English accent living in Derry”. “I haven’t seen him lately...You don’t think him and Erin are…??”. “Riding?”. “No..not like that...like seeing each other?”. “You’re fucking funny Claire. She’s a rare duck but not that fucking rare”. “We could ask her? Maybe there’s something wrong? We could stake out the library”. “That sounds like a barrel of laughs Claire”.

“I’m just going to head the library...”.

“I’m gonna go to the library...”.

“Actually no I’m just head home”

“Wait I’ll make my way home with you...”.

They had said both in unison. Erin put her head down and started walking towards home. Orla followed her oblivious to the awkwardness. Michelle and Claire were still staring at James who reddened and followed after Erin. “What the fuck is going on?” Michelle whispered to Claire.

They ended up following Erin home. She stopped them at the front door. “Actually I think my mammy’s doing dinner and she might not want you all under her feet”. They went to leave the garden and head home with Orla behind them. “Orla I didn’t mean you..”. Erin jumped as Mary opened the door. “What are ye wains doing standing on the doorstep in the cold? Come in and have some tea. Actually Michelle I have that big bowl for your mam”. They all headed inside. “No really it’s grand Mary. My ma’s forgotten about it and all”. “Aye if you’re sure love”. It was worth another try she thought.

“How are yas getting on with that history project girls? Our Erin seems to be in that library day and night”. “Grand. Piss of piss really Mary”. “Fine actually thanks Mrs Quinn” said Orla grabbing biscuit from the table. “What history project” asked Orla. “You all seem very laid back about it? Erin?”. “Mammy do you want me to dish up the sprouts?”. She tried to change the subject. “Why are you spending so much time on the project?”. “I’m just struggling to find the words that’s all”. She could feel herself going purple. “Struggling to find the words? You Erin?”. “Yes Mammy”. Mary eyed her disbelievingly. She was up to something alright.

The gang tucked in the tea and reminisced about the prom. “You looked well the other night Joe”. “Why thank you Michelle. It was a great night. It was an honour to spend it with my wee granddaughter”. “Do you work out Joe?”. “I walk up the hill to church of a thursday so I do”. “It was a terrible what happened to Jenny Joyce wasn’t” Erin tried to steer the conversation away from her grandad. “Oh aye. It was terrible what happened to you Erin. Did you hear from that boy in the end?”. Erin stared at her peas. “No aunt Sarah”. “Forget him Erin. He’s not worth your time”. Grandda Joe stood up from the table and put a hand on her shoulder. “It was good of your James there to take you? Your mother was telling me. Good on you son”. He left them and went to watch the television. “James went with you? Were you going to tell us or what like?”. “Did you not cop on Michelle when we arrived together?”. “I just thought he’d bumped in to you on the way home from the creepy plunger convention”. “It’s Doctor Who..” James corrected her under his breath. “Well now you know”. Erin jumped up to start on the dishes so she could hide her face from the other others. She knew Michelle would jump to conclusions but Claire and Orla hadn’t said anything. She didn’t want them saying anything. Michelle turned to James: “You’re a sly wee fucker aren’t you?”. The dinner wound down and the gang made to leave. Not before Mary tried to sneak the big bowl in to Michelle’s bag. “Mary honestly it’s yours now”.

Erin and Orla said goodbye on the doorstep. “What’s it will mothers and bowls?” pondered Michelle. “Aye. It’s scary. Will we get like that do you think?” Erin would take a conversation about bowls at that point in time. “Claire defo will”. “I like a good bowl better than anyone but I’ll never be like that”. “Forget it Claire. We all turn into in to our parents”. They said their goodbyes and her and Orla headed inside. She sneaked a look at her mam and dad before going upstairs. They were laughing and joking as Mary filled him in on all the gossip from work. They could be sort of cute together when they weren’t under the eye of her, Joe or Sarah. Most of the time it made her want to boke but she thought to herself if she ended up like them she’d be lucky. She headed upstairs wishing she had have been able to see James off on her own.

The awkwardness had gone on for another week. James would disappear straight after school and Erin would walk home and find a way to sneak off back to the library. Michelle had given in to staking out the library after her suspicions had been raised by Joe telling them James had taken Erin to the prom. Why had neither of them told her? If it was just nothing they would have said. She was sitting with Claire and Orla in the quiet side of the library hiding their faces behind books. Occasionally spying from behind them to see if Erin had entered the library. “Orla...”. Michelle took the book from her and put it the right side up. “I was enjoying that!”. “What the fuck do you have on your face?”. She had two stripes of brown face paint on each cheek. She looked like a cat with whiskers. “Camouflage Michelle”. “I know this is Derry and all but we’re only in the library”. “Shhhh. Here she is!”. The slid down in their chairs until she walked past.

“Come on girls!”. Claire led the way. They followed Erin to the back of the library. They could hear talking so they hid behind a bookshelf. “Either she’s talking to herself or someone’s with her”. “Not shit Sherlock. Come on Claire!”. Michelle went to jump out from behind the bookshelf. “We can’t just approach her”. “It’s the library Claire. A public place. Not the jungle. Come on!”.

“Come in James live a little!”. Erin hopped up on the desk behind her. “But someone could catch us!”. “No one comes back here James. It’s all the books about your lot’s history”. She fluttered her eyelashes. She knew he would hold out much longer after that. “Okay but quickly. Be our luck if today was the day Jenny Joyce wanted to research Cromwell”. “She wouldn’t need to. She’s Cromwell reincarnated”. She grabbed his hand and pulled him towards her. He pushed her hair behind her ear. It had surprised her. How much she liked him. The wee English fella. Michelle’s annoying wee cousin. He was kind, funny, she could actually talk to him about stuff life, family, history, poetry, anything. He was also kind of cute. Especially with that new haircut. And he was a good kisser. She finally got why Katya had gone straight for him. It had confused her at the time but now she had joined the dots. Really she hadn’t been annoyed at Katya. Well maybe a wee bit but she had been jealous. Not in a romantic way at the time but as a friend. He had been spending all his time with her. Now...she wanted him to herself. As a boyfriend? James...her boyfriend? He leaned in to kiss her. Yes definitely her boyfriend.

“What the ACTUAL FUCK!!”. Nearly everyone in the library rushed over at the sound of Michelle yelling. Erin pushed James away. So hard he ended up knocking over a bookshelf. The clatter of the books alerted anyone else who wasn’t aware of the drama unfolding. “What are you two fucking doing? Are you actually necking James?”.

“No, he kissed me! He took me to the Prom and I think he got the wrong impression”. “Erin!”. “I’m sorry James I know this is hard for you….Maybe things are different in England...”. “But you said you liked me...”. Erin could hear the sadness in his voice but she just couldn’t face the others knowing. It was too embarrassing. Especially being caught like that. She’d never live it down. Half the school seemed to be in the library. She had wanted to break it to the gang gently after a good while then the school would follow. “James don’t be such a dick just because a girl walks in to the prom with ya it doesn’t mean she wants your tongue down her throat”. “I didn’t do that...she asked me to...I wouldn’t...I...Erin?!”. He pleaded with her but she couldn’t look at him. She just froze. He didn’t even say anything else. He pushed his way through the crowd that had gathered and left the library. “I’m so sorry. I’m gonna kill him Erin”. “I’m sorry too” she whispered to herself.

I’m the dick. I should have said something but on no for the first time in my life I had to keep my gob shut. She waited by the wall at the usual time and place that evening but he didn’t show. She hadn’t expected him to. She had just hoped he would. So she could explain and apologise. She couldn’t go to his house for fear of meeting Michelle. She would barely get a chance to say hello to him in school let alone properly talk to him about what had happened. She walked home feeling the winter cold for the first time in two weeks missing her hand being in his and how he would put them in his jacket pocket to keep them warm.

“Could you give James this back and say thanks?”. “You shouldn’t be thanking him after he stuck his tongue down your throat”. “It was just a misunderstanding Michelle, just leave it”. “I don’t know how he can show his face around here”. “It’s school he has to go. It’s against the law for him not to!”. “Ok Claire. Kavanagh QC there”. “Where is he?” Erin asked. She wanted to try and speak with him. She doubted they would get a moment alone during school. Everyone and anyone would be watching them after what transpired in the library. “Left for school before I even got up. You’re grand Erin. He won’t be launching himself at you when I’m around. That’s the English for you they think they can just take what they want”. “James isn’t like that Michelle. I think he genuinely misunderstood”. Erin reddened. Claire was defending him and she couldn’t. She was a coward. She looked at Claire. She had faced the ridicule of her friends, family and her school when she had decided to come out as being a lesbian. She couldn’t even tell her friends that she liked a boy.

When they got to school they headed to assembly. Erin tried to discreetly scan the hall for James. Where was he? He didn’t really know anyone else. “Don’t worry Erin! He’s moved on”. Erin turned to see where Michelle was pointing. He was standing with Charlene Kavanagh. She was laughing at something he said. Obviously she had heard about what happened in the library or if she did she hadn’t believed it.

They crossed passed with him in the hallway on the way to their first class. They were all in the same maths class so he couldn’t avoid her without mitching off. “Having fun with Charlene you creepy fuck?”. “Yes. Turns out she’s in to Doctor Who”. “We’ll have to tell her to wear one of them beekeeper things to you off her then”. James just looked at Erin before scoffing and walking down the back of the class and sitting beside Charlene.

“I don’t want to talk to you right now”. Erin ran to catch up with him. He had been the first out the school gate. Obviously trying to get home without seeing her. “Please...I..I want to apologise”. “Apologise? You humiliated me Erin”. “I’m so sorry”. “I’ve been slagged every day since I got here and I’ve put up with it. I’m the new kid. The wee English fella. Going to the girls’ school. Even people now thinking I’m a creep. Saying things behind my back. I’ve taken it but I can’t take it from you Erin”. “I didn’t mean it. I just didn’t want to tell them like that”. “That you’re with someone or that you’re with me?”. “We could go on as we were”. “Erin I never wanted or expected you to tell everyone but I can’t deal with with you being... ashamed of me...”. “I’m not...Please I miss you and...”. “I can't be with you when you're like this. I’m sorry. I like you when you're being yourself. You’re one of the greatest people I’ve ever met but not when you’re trying to fit in with the others”. She watched him walk down the street and make his way home.

She had to think of a way to apologize. To show everyone she liked him. Most importantly to show him. Her dad came in to her room. “You alright love?”. He could tell something was up with her. She had seemed upset since she had gotten home from school. “Kinda”. “Do you want to talk about it?”. “Not really. Sorry”. “No bother. You know where to find me if you change your mind”. “Hiding in the attic from mammy?”. “No cleaning out the attic...You can help me if you want. It mind take your mind off it”.

She followed him up the ladder. He helped her in to the attic. Erin had a look through the heaps of stuff. Some family keepsakes, some junk and some items from her childhood. Some of it distracted her for a minute but her mind soon wandered back to James. She wondered where he was and what he was up to. If he was with Charlene. Watching Doctor Who. Ring! Gerry stepped forward with a guitar and placed it around Erin’s neck. She gave it a strum. It was out of tune but sounded ok. “Where did this come from?”. “That’s mine! From before you were born. I used to play to your mother when we were courting”. “Courting?” Erin laughed. “Going out. Dating. I used to play that trying to impress her. I’d write her little songs”. “Did she like them? Were they any good?”. “Well she married me didn’t she?”. An idea formed in Erin’s head. She picked up the guitar “How long does it take you learn how to play the guitar da?”.  

“Today’s morning song will be performed by..Jen...Erin Quinn...interesting”. Erin made her way on to the stage struggling with the guitar. “Jesus, what the fuck is she doing?”. “Can she even play the guitar?” asked Claire. Erin struggled to get the notes right for the first chord. “I guess not”. “Hold on. Give me a sec. I can get this”. She tried to remember the chords her father had taught her. When she did remember them it took ages to get from one to another. “Fuck me. Even the Jesus on the cross up there is laughing”. She pointed to the statue of the crucifixion above the stage.

The crowd began to titter. “In fairness I tried. I practiced all weekend and the guitar is not easy to learn I can tell ya. I’m sorry. This isn’t me” Erin put down the guitar. “...this is”. Erin stood before the microphone and started singing. At first he voice was cautious and faltering but she grew in to the song and sounded quite good.

“I know I felt like this before.

But now I'm feeling it even more

Because it came from you

Then I open up and see

The person falling here is me

A different way to be...”

She hoped he understood. They had listened to the song before on her walkman before. Erin climbed down off the stage walked towards the gang. “Seriously what the fuck is she doing?”. Michelle slouched down in her chair pretending not to know her. “She’s coming towards us” Claire was intrigued. She stopped in front of James. “I'm sorry I shouldn't have lied and let them make fun of you and I'm sorry...that's not me”. She grabbed him by his blazer and kissed him. The other students giggled, cheered and Jenny Joyce fainted.

“What the actual FU...”. “Thank you Michelle. Well after that little performance I have no option but to insist you two are kept separate at all times. We can’t be having anymore carry on like this”. “Come on Sr it's not like we have no self control it's not like we're animals”. “You've never seen you two kiss obviously” Michelle mimed vomiting. “Does that mean I have to move out of the house Erin?” “She only meant me and James, Orla”.  “My office now the pair of you”. He brushed her hand before they both followed Sr Michael.

“Did Jenny Joyce give you a good steever in the head the other night and you have concussion or something?”. “No Michelle”. “Then what is it?”. “Did you join a cult?”. “No!” . “Did he bring you to that creepy convention and someone plungered ya?”. “No, I just like him Michelle”. “James?”. “The wee, English, annoying, prick of a cousin of mine?”. “Yes”. “Curly hair?”. “Yes!”. “I just can’t get my head around it”. “Me neither!”. “Claire! I thought you’d at least be on my side”. “Am I...it’s just it’s James...and you”. “I think you make a cracking couple”. “Thank you Orla”. “See Orla thinks this is alright it’s definitely fucked up”. “Michelle I like him. He’s not like David Donnelly or John Paul”. “John Paul was a ride. A dick but a ride”. “And he gets me. He likes me for me”.

“Poor James, he’ll have no one to hang out with”. “Cool it Claire, look. Jenny Joyce has already taken him under her wing. Poor Bitch. Sorry Erin. He has a bit of a fan club”. “Fan club?”. Erin laughed. “I’m not messing. Some of the girls are mad for him after you declared your love for him. I heard Jenny Joyce fainted with the romance of it all”.

Jenny saw them looking over and made her away across the room. James grimaced and waved over. “Erin rest assured we’ll well look after him”. James was surrounded by a group of girls fawning around him. Jealousy rose up in Erin. “Back off Jenny” she uttered through gritted teeth. She must have really sounded angry as Jenny quickly scuttled off and dispersed the group that had formed around James.

“Jesus Erin, you’re actually jealous of Jenny Joyce!”. “I’m not jealous I just sick at the cheek coming over here telling us she’s looking after him. We’ve been doing that for 2 years”. “No you’re jealous Erin”.

“I sort of miss him I've no one to take the piss out of”. “You take the piss out of us all the time Michelle!” Claire  looked to the heaves”. “Aye. But it's not the same. He just takes it”.

“Hi Mrs Quinn”. “Come in love”. Mary brought James through to the kitchen. “Mr Quinn, Mrs McCool”. “Hi there love”. “Sir”. He couldn’t remember Granddad Joe’s surname. “Is Michelle not with ya?”. “Or Claire?”. “Or Orla?”. “No, I’m on my own. Is Erin in?”. “Yeah, she’s upstairs”. “May I go see her please?”. “Sure love. You know where to go. Are Michelle and Claire on their way or…?”. “No just me”. He turned and went up the stairs.

He wasn’t?. Erin and him weren’t? Mary’s mind was racing. “Mary you’re not letting him go up there on his own are you?” Gerry stood up and went to listen at the bottom of the stairs. “Why not?”. He returned to the kitchen after not being able to hear anything. “He’s a teenage  boy”. “I thought he was gay?” Mary was more saying it to herself than the others. “Aye, you got a problem with the gays Gerry? Why are you so prejudiced?”. “I’m not. I’m just not comfortable with my daughter being up there alone with a teenage lad”. “I don’t think he’s gay Mary because Orla was telling me that Erin kissed him during assembly. I think it’s quite sweet actually” Aunt Sarah returned to painting her nails. “Here you waste of space. You should be ashamed of yourself letting your young daughter get up to god knows what upstairs with that wee English gobshite!”. “You just said he was gay!”. “Well you should have made sure before you flung your wee daughter at him”. “Calm down! I' ll go check”.

Mary climbed the stairs to the landing and put her ear to Erin’s bedroom door. “Ok one more please then I promise I will give your space hospital thing a go”. “It's not even set in a hospital!”. “Well I'll never know unless you finish this one”. “Ok then we’ll watch Doctor Who”. “Ok”. Mary snuck the door open a inch so she could see. They were sat on the bed. James had a book in his hand and Erin had her head on his shoulder. “Emma was almost ready to sink under the agitation of this moment. The dread of being awakened from the happiest dream, was perhaps the most prominent feeling. "I cannot make speeches, Emma," he soon resumed; and in a tone of such sincere, decided, intelligible tenderness as was tolerably convincing. "If I loved you less, I might be able to talk about it more. But you know what I am”.

“Why are you laughing?”. “Because you can do the voices” “That's just my voice”. “I know just we can't. We can't. Sound funny if Emma was almost ready to have a cack attack wouldn’t!”. Mary smiled and gently closed the door and left them to it.