#I am so sorry to all my control mutuals who scrolled past this and thought it was Jesse for a brief moment

[flusteredbard]

Do I main horizon because I’m good at playing her? Absolutely not.

Do I main horizon because I like hearing her funny little voice lines? Yes, yes I do.

[epochofbelief]

Breath Control, Chapter Seven

An A Court of Mist and Fury College Swim Team AU

All characters belong to SJ Maas!

Feysand.... and welcome to Elriel. 

Warnings: cursing

Let me know if you want to be tagged! 

Authors Note: This chapter is a BIG gateway chapter to a lot of things. . . also VERY lightly edited... and enjoy the new POV shift... ;)

Masterlist Link!

SEVEN

~~~Elain~~~

It was around 9 am. I’d been in the kitchen for an hour already, trying to decide what to make for breakfast. I’d started making pancakes, then switched to waffles, then omelets.  I’d be set on my decision for as long as it would take me to pull out all the ingredients for my choice, then I’d change my mind, put everything back, and pull a bunch of different things out. 

My father walked in at around 9:30, as I was pulling the muffins I’d made from scratch out of the oven. I’d decided muffins were neutral enough that everyone in the house would like them and that I could make them well enough to everyone’s satisfaction. Nesta said I worked too hard to please people. 

No clue where she got that idea. . . 

“Is no one else up?” my father said.

I shook my head. “Just me and the muffins.”

He took one, buttered it, and made to sit down. He seemed to think better of it, though, because he set his muffin down and stood up straight. “I’d better go wake Feyre. I want to ask her about all those paint cans and supplies she’s left in the garage, and someone has to be here to eat these muffins. Best to do it know while Mr. Night sleeps; I know how sensitive that girl can be about her painting.”

I nodded, standing alone at the counter before I remembered.

“Dad, Dad, Dad! Let me wake up Feyre. I--um--”

He was halfway up the stairs when I caught up to him, pausing to look down at me. I went with the oldest trick in the book. “Girl stuff.” I widened my eyes meaningfully. “Best if I check up on her first.”

I prayed my father didn’t see through my very feeble attempt to make him uncomfortable. But it worked. He clicked his tongue and descended the staircase. “I’ll take your word for it, Elain. Hurry down. And tell Feyre to hurry too…”

It was like he knew. Oh Feyre was so going to owe me. 

I bounded up the stairs, not slowing until I was at the top of Feyre’s own narrow staircase. I knocked and entered, ready to get a kick out of what was about to happen.

“Oh, Feyreeee, Dad needs you downstairs.”

Nothing for a few moments. I thought I heard whispers but from where I stood, I  couldn’t see anything besides the large lump of her white bed coverings. “I guess I could send Dad up here…”

The whispering became clearer, now, and I made out something like, “Shut up!” and “I’ll handle it” and “Calm the fuck down.” 

Feyre suddenly appeared in a very large t-shirt and nothing else. “Thanks, ‘Lain.” She practically hissed my name. She stalked across the floor toward me. “How’d you know?” She murmured.

“Got up for a glass of water last night. Saw Rhysand’s ass as it cleared the top of the staircase. Figured I’d save you from Dad’s wrath.”

Feyre rolled her eyes. “We didn’t do anything. And Dad has no right to dictate what I can and can’t do.”

“Obviously not,” I agreed. “But he could make things very awkward.”

“True. We’ll--I’ll--be down in a second. Please don’t tell Nesta. She’d be unbearable.”

“Tell me what?” A voice like iron floated across the small landing. 

Feyre shut her eyes and I cringed. Nesta’s judgment might be worse than our father’s.

“Hey, Nesta,” Feyre said guiltily. 

“Feyre. Hi Rhys!” Nesta raised her voice imperceptibly. 

A tan hand rose from the bed. “Why the fuck do you have so many sisters, Archeron?”

The light that shone behind Feyre’s eyes was like nothing I’d ever seen before. In either of my sisters’ faces. Or my own. I bit back my own grin. After Tamlin, and the shitty year Feyre had had, I just wanted her to be happy. And Rhys was so good-natured. Didn’t hurt that he was hot, too. She deserved to look all happy despite being caught out by her two older sisters.

“I’d get downstairs quick. And arrive separately.” Nesta was fighting back a laugh. “I can’t wait to hear Dad chew you out for your sex life. For once, it won’t be me.” She smiled wickedly.

“We didn’t--I didn’t--get out!” Feyre screeched at us. 

“You’re welcome,” Nesta and I said in unison, and we grinned at each other. Feyre pushed us out with surprising strength and slammed the door.  

“That was fun.” Nesta started down the staircase first. 

I was about to respond when my phone vibrated in my back pocket. I pulled it out.

Azriel: Mooorning

“Who’s that?”

“Huh?”

“Don’t play dumb.” Nesta dropped her voice to a low whisper as we descended the main staircase and headed for the kitchen. “You’re grinning like an idiot, and not in the ‘I just caught my sister with a boy in her bed in my dad’s house’ way you were earlier.” 

“Uh, just looking at a meme.” Weak.

“Because you spend so much time scrolling through memes.”

Thankfully, Nesta let the subject drop. I honestly wished she hadn’t. Everyone had been treating me like a fragile piece of glass since the whole Greyson debacle. And while, yes, I wasn’t quite ready to share that I’d been secretly talking to Azriel for the past two months… I was strong enough to handle some sisterly teasing, or even fatherly teasing. Or any kind of teasing.

Instead, everything was, “Oh, Elain, your cookies taste so good!” and, “Oh, Elain, the garden looks wonderful!” and, “Oh, Elain, how’s nursing school?” Nobody wanted to talk about anything real with me, because they thought I wasn’t ready. And if I was the one to start down that road, they’d continue to tread on ice around me and just be grateful I was talking at all. Too grateful to really listen to what I had to say.

Which was why I’d downloaded a dating app two months ago, swiped right on all of two guys before I’d found someone worthy of deleting the app immediately after we started messaging. It’d been a constant stream of texting and snapchatting ever since, even if we hadn’t met up in person yet. My romantic past, Azriel’s loner tendencies, and the fact that he was one of Rhys’s best friends and Feyre’s teammate had made us decide to take things slow. But seeing how happy Feyre was with Rhys--and she didn’t even know it quite yet--made me think that I should tell my sister and then get Azriel to take me out. 

That would certainly surprise everybody. Elain made of glass, indeed.

Before I could lose my nerve, I texted Azriel back. Sliding my phone back into my pocket, I reentered the kitchen with a smile on my face, trying not to ponder on the message I’d just sent.

Elain: I’ve been thinking. . . We should meet up… Face to face. 

Elain: Like on a date. 

I got a response within a moment and didn’t need to check my phone to know what it said.

Azriel: Hell yes. 

~~~FEYRE~~~

I slammed the door shut. I looked behind me to find Rhys, breathtakingly shirtless, propped up on one elbow behind me. 

“What are the chances that both of your lovely sisters keep their mouths shut about this? Cuz I have a feeling even a mutual love for collegiate athletics won’t stop your father from kicking me out of the house for staying the night in your room.”

I slumped onto the bed and he was suddenly there, filling all the empty space in the room as he hovered over me. I closed my eyes, fighting back a smile. “They’ve had their fun. Sisters don’t snitch.”

He rested his forehead against my shoulder. “Great. Not that I care about you, of course. I’m just very concerned about where I’ll have Thanksgiving dinner if your dad kicks me out.”

I sat up and pushed him back against the blankets all in one motion. “You take that back,” I said playfully. 

“Make me.”

“How about I go down there and confess to my dad before Nesta or Elain can rat us out? Then I’d be rid of your sorry ass much more quickly.”

“Feyre!” Elain’s voice floated up the stairs tauntingly, interrupting our flirting.

“This isn’t over, Archeron,” Rhys said threateningly. 

I pointed to the door. “Go put on something presentable. Your hair’s a mess.” 

He scowled. But he kissed me lightly on the lips before he left the room and I almost told him to forget about family breakfast and stay up here with me, instead.

------

The day passed in a blur. We spent the majority of it in the kitchen prepping for Thanksgiving lunch tomorrow afternoon. After a while, we all retired to the living room and marathoned the Lord of the Rings trilogy. Rhys sat next to me on the couch and as soon as it got dark enough outside that my father, Nesta, and Elain probably wouldn’t notice, he took my hand under our shared blanket and I set my head on his shoulder. 

I stayed in his room that night, although we were both too tired to do much other than fall into bed after a day spent in the kitchen. I woke before him the next morning and tiptoed downstairs to let him sleep.

I found Elain and Nesta arguing in my kitchen. 

“Why don’t you just tell me who he is,” Nesta was saying in a very low, very dangerous voice.

“Butt out, Nesta. It’s no one.”

“If it was no one, there’d be nothing for me to butt out of, now would there be?”

Elain was gripping the island countertop in the center of the kitchen. Nesta, surprisingly, was cooking up a huge skillet of scrambled eggs. It smelled as though they were starting to burn while her attention was focused on Elain. 

Elain’s phone vibrated. “Who is he?” Nesta shrieked.

“Fuck off!”

“What’s going on?” I asked. 

They both started speaking at once. 

“Elain’s being stupid--”

“Nesta won’t stay out of my own fucking business--”

“Help me convince her--” 

I held up my hands. “Oh, both of you shut up! Elain. Explain.”

Nesta mumbled something under her breath that I chose not to hear as Elain sighed. “Nesta thinks I’m talking to a boy. She thinks that she has a right to know who he is--if he even exists,” Elain added with an eye roll, “and that she deserves the right to approve. I told her to fuck off, but she’s not listening.”

I’d never heard so many “fucks” from Elain in one conversation. There was definitely a boy. 

“Well, why don’t you tell us? After everything…”

Elain pushed herself back from the countertop, throwing her hands up in the air. “I’m not some fragile teenager who doesn’t know how to speak to boys! Despite what you think about how terribly broken I am after Greyson, I know what I’m doing! And now I don’t want to tell you even more. So leave me alone.” 

She turned and pushed through the door that led from the kitchen to the side yard. 

I looked at Nesta. She looked at me. 

“She better be getting it reallll good to get so upset with us for asking about it,” Nesta said.

I took a seat at the barstools surrounding the island. “Do you think she. . . Do we really treat her like a teenager who doesn’t know how to speak to boys?”

“Maybe. But that’s because she doesn’t know how to speak to boys--or men, for that matter.”

Nesta thought she knew what was best for Elain--and she usually did. But Nesta also liked getting her way. When her way wasn’t Elain’s way. . . It was difficult for both of them. I resolved that no matter what Nesta thought, I’d try to give Elain some space when it came to her Mystery Guy. Even if I was dying to find out who it was. 

“Speaking of boys. . .” Nesta began, but at that moment, Rhys stepped into the kitchen. Thank God. I didn’t know what exactly was going on between us at the moment. Discussing it with Nesta would be torture. 

“Good morning,” I said brightly as Rhys took a seat beside me. 

“Is it?” He asked. Nesta had turned around to find her eggs burnt to a crisp, ignoring Rhys entirely.

“What’s wrong?”

Rhys leaned his elbows on the counter. “My father called. He’s in town. And wants me to spend the weekend with him in my hometown.”

I couldn’t help the fear that gripped me at his words. Was he just making this up because he wanted to escape me? I struggled to keep my voice steady. “Where’s that?” 

“Two hours north of here.”

“Well I can take you and drop you off tomorrow morning,” I managed to say. “Would that work?”

He blinked. “I did tell you that my father is a horrible person, right?”

“Not sure you mentioned it. . . But it’s Thanksgiving. You should be with family.” Which was true. Although I’d rather he stay here.

He rolled his eyes. “I can’t burden you with driving all the way out there and back just so I can spend the weekend with a very unideal candidate.” He gave me a look that told me who was the ideal candidate. Maybe he wasn’t making this up. . . 

“Um. . . Uber?”  Stay here, stay here, stay here.

“Too expensive.” He glanced at Nesta, and then turned to face me more fully. “You could stay with us. We can just make it ‘meet the parents’ week.” He smiled hopefully.

Relief flooded my body. “Well…” I definitely wanted to go with him. Right now I didn’t want to leave his side at all after the past two nights sleeping in his arms. But I didn’t want to offend my family.

Nesta banged the skillet against the edge of the trash can, causing both Rhys and me to jump about a mile. “Go with him, Feyre. I’ll talk to Dad.”

I couldn’t help the smile that exploded across my face. “I guess you’re stuck with me.” I grinned at him. 

“There’s no one else I’d rather be stuck with.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Tag List: @sleeping-and-books​ @musicalfae​ @queen-of-glass

[bladekindeyewear]

HS^2 bloggin’ mainline 2020-05-19

Figured an upd8 was coming, it’s felt like enough time has passed for one.

Huh, looking at my last post I’d completely forgotten I was supposed to play through Pesterquest sometime... work is busy and stressing me out a bit, I’m not sure when I’ll have the energy on the side to do that.  (Maybe I’ll livetweet it like I did Undertale a while ago, but this time not looking at my twitter replies so I don’t get spoiled by One Guy™?)

Also, including bonus commentary on A Threat Sensed.

Okay, going in completely blind.  I’d guessed from context that we’re hopping over to Meat side to get a chapter there before we can come back to actually see Yiffy?

Yep.  Okay, what is this about exactly?

(Agh, dammit, I’ve been copying and pasting so much at work remoting into Windows lately that now I’m automatically trying to hit control-C instead of command-C to copy.)

> CHAPTER 9. How Goes The Eulogizing, Dear?

CONTENT NOTE: This chapter contains Child Abuse.

Which one???

Wait

JANE: (Where is he?) JANE: (It's a question I've found myself asking many times in recent days.)

Holy SHIT we get two Candy chapters in a row???  So we might see her right away??  No, it’s gotta just be another tiny glimpse.

(Has two Candy chapters in a row happened before?  Future Boots, scroll back up and put this here. FUTURE BOOTS: “I forgot to scroll back up and put that here.” EDIT: Also, not the first time with two in a row, but it IS the first time with THREE in a row, huh.)

So Jane has to be talking about either Tavros or Dave.  --Oh, if this was a Candy Side chapter title, I guess Rose or Jade is eulogizing Dave for John?

> (==>)

JANE: (Where now is our merry savior?) JANE: (Where is the horn that was honking?) JANE: (Where is the cape and the codpiece, and the...) JANE: (The...) JANE: (Oh, fiddlesticks.)

What?  Is she reading a childrens’ book?  --Oh.  She’s eulogizing Gamzee.  So that gives us a third option, where the rebellion crashes the funeral somehow, probably audiovisually rather than in person.  (Which would make sense, given Candy practically began with Gamzee crashing Dirk’s funeral.)

> (==>)

Ah never mind, she’s still writing it.

That sure is a single button drama-remote that’s going to be pressed at some point.  Oh, and who the fuck keeps a spork in a pen cup???  --No no, don’t say it’s one of those pens with a spork at the eraser end, either ready-made or rubber-banded to the side.  That would make sense.  You totally know it isn’t that and is just a spork.

JANE: (Okay, poetry is out.) JANE: (What else?) JANE: (Hrm...) JANE: (I've always been pretty good at crying on cue.) JANE: (Could I try staging an emotional breakdown?) JANE: (That could work; playing to people's humanity.)

Why were you crying in Jake’s arms about his death if you didn’t care that much?  Did you just want him to hold you and kinda make him feel in on things again?  Or did you just cry yourself out about him?

JANE: (Or whatever is the more inclusive term.)

I bet the rest of Earth C figured out a more inclusive term millenia ago FUCK I accidentally added millennia to my dictionary misspelled instead of correcting it hold on--

...There, killed the entry for it.  ...Huh.  Take a look at my Chrome dictionary’s custom-added words over the years, apparently:

Caliborn Eridan Kanaya Matriorb Meenah Tavros alchemiter dichotomic nephilim reblogged uncaptchalogues uncaptchaloguing

That’s fun.

Okay back to reading. Millennia.  Phew!  Where was I.

JANE: (One really good and calculated weep could do it, I think.) JANE: (But then there's the danger that I might get carried away and do it for real.) JANE: (And I can't risk that.)

So still feeling something, just too used to calculating over the past years.

JANE: (What can I say about him that will stir up their emotions?) JANE: (Do I mention the stuff about the milk?) JANE: (Think Crocker, think.)

WHY would you-- how much did Gamzee normalize adult breastfeeding?!

JAKE: Ahoy over there!

Not the best time.

(The thing with the divorce papers from the Epilogue and John implying he was planning with Jake to execute something that sounds like a divorce... is that going to be sprung here?  Did her lawyers send the divorce papers way back when she was in a fit of pique, and he just had them available to sign now at the tactical moment? Or... let me pull the exact text...)

JOHN: now, harry anderson, i know that you and tavros haven't always gotten along. JOHN: but i am going to have to ask you to try and look out for him for the time being. JOHN: your uncle jake and i... well, i'll explain later. JOHN: let's just say that gamzee isn't the only family member jane is losing today.

(So is John going to submit the papers? Or did they already go through a while ago and default custody to John or something who’s going to adopt him too or some nonsense?  And did he plan this out with Jake NOW, or a while ago, and if only a while ago, is Jake going to KNOW whatever John’s about to pull in that respect is about to happen??)

> (==>)

Butte

Janepalme

> (==>)

JAKE: Er... how goes the eulogizing, dear?

Gah.  I completely forgot again that capitalized-first-letter chapter names don’t mean KANAYA is saying them.  That probably makes a lot more sense out of my wondering about the chapter title earlier to those of you who didn’t realize I was making that mistake.

JANE: It turns out that it's mighty difficult to find touching things to say about a person, the relationship with whom was predicated on deep-seated mutual loathing.

Hah!

--A loathing you regarded as largely more important to you than Jake ever was, by the way.  You asshole.

JANE: I imagine this is one of the reasons no funerary tradition was ever established on Alternia, besides the barbarism of their culture. DIRK: Jesus christ. JANE: Not only did a significant proportion of their interpersonality depend on romance in the form of hatred, but it was a society based on cruelty and violence. JANE: What reason could they have had to provide for the dead? JANE: What kind of last rites could they have even imagined?

I wondered for a moment why (bg!)Dirk of all people would react to a single line of her starting to bring up prejudices, but then I realized that (1) Brain Ghost Dirk is a little more Jakey, and (2) Dirk knew that more ranting would follow the first line.

JANE: I can't think of anything good to write about him because deep down, I hated his guts. JANE: But he was and is beloved of the multitude, so I have to think of something regardless. JAKE: Im not sure i understand. JANE: Don't worry your pretty little head about it. JANE: This is politics, Jakey. JANE: Lying through your two front teeth about people you hate is about as good a definition as it's possible to get. JANE: But, by gum, is it tiring work.

Mm.  It’s a position Jane put herself in, but it’s still a legitimate position once you’re there.

JANE: The funeral is tomorrow, after all.

Got it.

DIRK: Dude, the bowl. JAKE: Hm? JAKE: Oh, right. JANE: What is it now, Jake. JAKE: I brought something for our guest as well. JANE: You mean the prisoner. JAKE: Y...es.

Wait, bowl?

Oh god damnit which of you had the idea to feed her with a DOG BOWL.  Either of you could have thought of it, and either of you would be horrible for it.

> (==>)

Huh, that outfit on Yiffy looks familiar, like a reference to something.  And a black tail?  This definitely isn’t quite the look I was expecting from Jade Plus Rose, but I suppose the snazzy tie is a Roseish vibe.  Also reminiscent of Jade’s old Dead Shuffle dress.  Formal wear and soccer cleats??

JANE: She's over in the corner. JANE: Don't worry, she won't bite. JANE: I've seen to that already.

WHAT THE FUCK DOES THAT MEAN.  I don’t see anything over her mouth!  Did she stick something in it, or drug her?  File her fucking teeth???

I mean I did forget the Child Abuse trigger warning to be fair.  Hoping whatever would be on her mouth is just not shown in-panel yet for stylistic reasons.

> (==>)

JAKE: Its only mac and cheese, sorry. JAKE: Its all I know how to make, haha. JAKE: ... JAKE: I um... hope you can safely partake of cheese? JAKE: ... JAKE: Well, JAKE: Bon appetit.

How the fuck did Jake eat on his island then?  --Oh right, preserved food cans that Grandma Jade stored up, I think I remember.  Why would cheese not be a thing for them, if it’s fine for Jade?  I know he’s probably not just worried about lactose intolerance.

Either way, if she’s drugged here, that’ll mean we won’t get a good idea of her for a while, so which is it...

> (==>)

DIRK: Bon appetit. DIRK: Seriously dude? JAKE: (What? Did i pronounce it wrong?) DIRK: Jake. DIRK: You put the food in a fucking dog bowl. JAKE: (It was all there was, ok???) JAKE: (I feel awful enough as it is without you getting on my case about it.)

Ah, missed the bone pun.  AND, yeah, Jake, you’re a fucking idiot, you could have put it in a cup or something.

JAKE: (So far ive yet to see anything come of that brilliant plan of yours.) JAKE: (Are you sure sending that message to the others was enough?)

Okay, so he IS coordinating this slightly.

> (==>)

Horrifying image to contemplate, eh Jane?

Or anger-inducing?

> (==>)

Seems about right!

> (==>)

Oh that’s a GREAT exasperated Jane face.

JANE: I hope you're not expecting dessert, young lady.

I like how Jane didn’t notice, comment on, or care about the bowl.  How can you hate a kid so much??

> (==>)

Oh I know why I felt like I recognized the outfit style, it’s because it’s ANIME AS FUCK.  Feels like some Persona 4 Arena nonsense, and I say that not having played any of those games or even remembering what they looked like.  Also, white hair, black fur’d dog parts?  Nice change of pace.

YIFFY: GRRRRRRRRR... JANE: Oh no you don't.

Red text?  What color exactly... “#D00009”?  Huh.  That’s nowhere near Alt-Callie’s #FF0000, and darker than Dave’s #E00707.  In fact, let me go back and check those spilled color pins the commentary pointed out from an update or two ago...  no, the red pin is #E63225, closer to Dave’s color.  (Also, is Yiffy blocking the doorway out?  That’s a pretty slack chain then.)

Did Jane see to it that she wouldn’t bite with like, a water spray bottle?

(EDIT: Oh my FUCKING GOD, THAT's why it's #D00009...)

> (==>)

FUCK I didn’t notice the shock collar in the Yiffy image!  FUCK YOU, Jane.

> (==>)

Keeping someone in line with collars, especially ones that punish whenever one strays out of line, has always been a decent way for her to mix in some Doomy control of others to show how she’s “grown” to balance her main role and her Tiara-controlled-like inverse for more power.  Doom in part represents boundaries that you can’t cross without getting hurt or punished.

> (==>)

FUCK, those little buck teeth!?  D’:

JANE: That's more like it.

She HAS to have more of a reason for hating her than hating her parents, right?  Like, more than that and general racism applying to partdogfolk?

> (==>)

Hey fuck off with that!

> (==>)

This is a pretty cool ima-- are those piercings on her dog ear?  I didn’t notice that in the first shot, neat.

JANE: You've been a thorn in my side ever since I agreed to enroll you at the academy, little madam. JANE: Back then, I was doing a favor for two old friends who made a disgusting mistake. JANE: I'm no longer going to play nice with you just because of your parents, however. JANE: That truce is over. JANE: Do I make myself understood?

What the fuck?  WHY would you do that?  Why does Jane run "Ms. Paint’s Home for Inconvenient Girls”?  What did Yiffy do to piss her off so much there, how much trouble could she have caused?

I don’t know if she’s referring to the behind-Kanaya’s-back part as disgusting or she’s just being MORE racist.

> (==>)

JANE: We don't want you passing out during the ceremony, do we?

Oh, just showing the hostage off during the clown funeral, huh?  Classy much?

> (==>)

JANE: Now, be a good hostage and get some rest, Yiffany dear. JANE: We've got a big day tomorrow.

For a politician, Jane’s not good at looking at herself in a mirror.

> (==>)

JANE: Night night. JANE: Hoo hoo.

> (Yiffy: Lights out.)

Huh, dream stuff is gonna be relevant out in Candy then? *click*

Okay, dark background all of a sudden.  Properly dramatic?  You even have to highlight the non-link “>” part of the Next link to see it.

> (==>)

-- thespiansGlamor [TG] began pestering adamantGriftress [AG] --

Well, I don’t know WHY it’s happening, but the white-backed pesterlog suddenly on the dark site framing is certainly evocative.  Of like, a mood, or something.

TG: i thought he was pretty quiet down there. TG: we'll make a rebel of him yet! AG: Lol. AG: I think it's more that he can't sleep. AG: I know how he feels. TG: yeah. TG: today was a lot. AG: ... TG: do you wanna talk about it? AG: Ugh, not you as well.

It’s really jarring to transition between Homestuck’s “kids jarringly mentally resistant to freaking out about the end of the world” to HS^2′s more realistic “kids traumatized by their first firefight even though it was an overwhelming victory-escape”.

TG: but seriously, do you? AG: Not really. TG: not even about... you know? TG: her? AG: No. TG: ... are you sure? AG: A8solutely. AG: What are you, my moirail? AG: Just leave it, Harry. TG: ok.

Are they about to have an “I wonder what Yiffy’s like” talk?

> (==>)

Very similar Tav/Vrissy convo to the previous one.

GG: I havent ever shared a bedroom before,,, GG: Not even for a slumber party,,, AG: Tavvy, you are just a8out the saddest person I've ever met.

Well, we have an even better idea how horrible Jane can be with kids, now.  From Nanna to THIS is quite jarring.  I wonder how the double Nannasprites that must still be around here somewhere feel?

> (==>)

TG: nothing about my dad is cute. TG: what are you even saying. AG: Lmao. TG: seriously! TG: i think he has something against that word, even. he gets super weird about it. AG: He's a strange and funny m8n. TG: yeah. TG: ... TG: i think something bad must have happened.

...um.  What?  Why would John have some sort of trauma about the word cute or being called it?

Did John dress up as a hint of his buried June ambitions as a kid and Dad lavish him with “SO CUTE” praise in an epic supportiveness backfire that caused him to shelve the idea of wearing non-masc clothes and being happier on the flipside of gender ever again???  Because if that’s how June gets canonized as promised, it’s a little harsher than the back of my mind was hoping.  I guess it kind of had to be though from the premise of how it was read into his childhood for the original idea, though.  Fuck, I hope this Cute business is about something different from that (like a Terezi reference or such) just to get less John Sads.  (But still June.  Definitely still want to get June.)

> (==>)

Oh, and now Vrissy is doing nothing but talking about what she said she didn’t want to talk about, of course.  (Also I like how JANE’s now being called the Batterwitch.)

AG: And the worst part was they didn't even fight a8out it! AG: That made me madder than 8nything else. AG: It felt like I was the only person who even W8S mad! GG: I dont think thats true,,, AG: What would you know a8out it?! GG: Maybe nothing,,, GG: Sorry,,, GG: Its just,,, GG: To me,,, all the way through the conversation,,, aunt kanaya looked even angrier than you,,, AG: ... AG: Adults are so fucking weird.

Guh, I don’t want to be reminded how hurt a good chunk of the fanbase is by Kanaya getting hurt this badly.

Original Tavros was always SLIGHTLY perceptive of others sometimes, but maybe perceptiveness is being hinted at as a Tavros specialty?  We still don’t know his classpect/hero-title or have any firm guesses based on purely him evidence.  (Also, frightened kids of abusive households tend to learn to get perceptive pretty fucking quickly I hear.)

> (==>)

TG: dad was sitting in the cafeteria with aunt jade and your moms. TG: it looked like they were discussing something important... they were whispering and stuff.

[etc etc] Alright, the what-happened-to-Dave bit.  And I imagine they’re kind of helping John grieve there, since Rose and Jade have talked that out already.

TG: aunt kanaya's was the only face i could see. TG: she was standing next to them, but she wasn't looking at what was going on. TG: almost like she couldn't bear to. AG: I doubt it. Kanaya's got a8out as much Emotivity as a very reclusive stone. TG: ok, i think that is bullshit but whatever. TG: she saw me standing there, but didn't say anything. she just shook her head slightly, and pointed back out into the hallway i came down.

Yep, giving them some space to grieve.  Also-- gosh, shouldn’t Vrissy have the same emotive senses that Aranea implied Vriska shared with her?  Kanaya isn’t that EXPRESSIVE but she’s certainly full of emotion.  Also, I hope part of her not bearing to watch wasn’t lingering anger toward Jade and Rose mixing with that, but there probably was a bit of that too, though Dave being gone is so much harsher than that. --I just realized they might not have broken the news to Karkat yet, either.

AG: I guesadxcxzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz TG: vrissy?

Put to sleep by someone slumping down on your phone keypad, or surprised by something about the other conversation?

Oh shit, “other conversation” reminded me I didn’t look at Tavros’s chumhandle:

glutinousGymnast [GG]

HHHHHhhhhuh.  Hm... huh? hhhh.  huh?  what, but.  Why would.  ?????

I really don’t understand what that chumhandle or any of its entendres should signify in this context.

Also, this means for our new four kids we have TG, GG, AG, and ??.

> (==>)

GG: I think she might have succumbed to sleep quite suddenly,,, GG: It would explain the,,,,,, interesting messages I've been getting for a while,,, TG: hehe. TG: i guess that tracks. TG: she does that from time to time.

That’s... strange.  Homestuck’s taught us to be suspicious of that.

TG: ... TG: tav? GG: Yes,,, harry anderson,,,? TG: what does it feel like to know someone who's died?

Who is Harry referring to? (EDIT: Yes I know Gamzee for Tavros, but I meant Harry talks like he's worried he'll have to feel that way soon?)  Is he just kind of inferring that something bad might have happened to Uncle Dave?  Got that perceptive “parents are about to tell me about a death in the family” vibe?  Or did he overhear more than he let on to Vrissy?

...alright, that’s the last page of this update.  Looks like this chapter is going to continue to have a good bunch of grieving, or talk around it.

---

Now for Bonus Commentary for A Threat, Sensed.  For some reason I have a dim memory of like... reading this myself without commenting on it?  Or skimming it?  But I’m pretty sure I didn’t do that.  Weird.  Must have imagined doing it.

Ah, I think I saw the opening paragraph scrolling Patreon, and my mind kinda filled in the blanks, this is still looking new to me.

Okay, mostly banter and japes in the commentary here.  About Dirk “throwing a huge tantrum in his philosophy cave”.

We’ve had quite a bit of speculation on whether this is “really” Andrew. To that, I think we’d say that it doesn’t “really” matter.

Really?  That was speculated about?  :/

Here we discover that Dirk has not, as some people have speculated, been directly intervening into the Candy timeline, or influencing it in any way. In fact, he has a very hard time seeing anything going on there at all.

Mhmm, and that was a pretty important thing to learn.

A couple of years ago I might have agreed with the take that everything happening in Candy is simply too outlandish to ever happen naturally, without direct, villainous interference, but that was before literally every fucking batshit insane thing that has happened on Real Life Earth started going down, and now I will believe literally anything. 

This is a nice bit of distraction from the idea that at least the opening parts of the Candy story were written/narrated by Original, Alive Calliope over on meat side.  To refresh your memory of what was pointed out to me:

ROXY: back when jade first got all effed up callie saw somethin and it made them freak out ROXY: it took me weeks to convince them that it was safe to come home ROXY: but now we got the opposite problem and they arent leavin the house at all ROXY: they stay home all day with the blinds drawn paintin some weird ass shit on the walls TEREZI: WH4T? ROXY: its not as bad as it sounds i promise ROXY: some of it is like ROXY: weird and violent?? ROXY: like lotsa nasty purple blood and um ROXY: nudity???? TEREZI: >:? ROXY: yeah yikes ROXY: but MOST of it is cute stuff like... various combos of all of us being happy and gettin married and shit ROXY: anyway thats kept callie kinda busy

Which tracks with the initial out-of-character-seemingness of almost everyone at the start of Candy, and how they kind of tried to railroad things back onto the “Happy??” track after Dirk derailed it with his weird self-accumulation suicide, along with some of the flowery-idyllic descriptions of characters seeing each other bathed in a halo of light and such.

Of course, they’re not going to out-and-out STATE that Calliope was at fault for that narration, helping the Candy story not necessarily fall out the way it did “naturally”, until we finally get a glimpse of her on the heroes’ ship in Meat probably still painting the continuing Candy events, inspiring them into the void of the singularity with her latent powers.  Til then, it’s a bit of misdirection whenever the topic is to be brought up.  Along with a mix of Roxy’s late-Candy point to John of more or less “why COULDN’T we have done this naturally? you don’t know”.

He might even think that he has more direct power over the narrative than Hussie does himself. Surprise, motherfucker, you are a fictional character. 

:p

I’ll quote this next part in full:

There’s been talk of whether or not this bonus was written in the two days between its release and the Yiffy reveal chapter. The answer is--no. It was written over a month ago. But I think the things it addresses were not difficult to suss out. Obviously, Dirk is highlighting the issues that the readership are having with Yiffy, in his typical Dirk fashion. If it seems a little defensive, well...I suppose it is. Yiffy is one of the two hard lines drawn in the sand, and all of us love her, and we’re hoping that everyone else will love her too. But more than that, it focuses on the fact that update culture has a rhythm to it--shock, revulsion, acceptance (or not), and then excitement (or not). Will it follow that pattern this time? Who knows. I guess we’ll find out. 

Yeah, given what was going to be dropped on us I expected they would have had exactly this lined up, especially because Andrew specifically mandated Yiffy.  --I wonder why they aren’t mentioning that somewhere in the commentary and only on one of their Twitters?

Also quoting this:

There’s something both incredibly “cringe” and self-indulgent, as well as philosophically intriguing, about the author arguing with his villain, especially since he’s writing both halves of the conversation himself. You are, for all intents and purposes, trying to solve a problem that you have created for yourself. You are looking an aspect of your personality in the eye and asking, hey, what the fuck, man?

But in the end, isn’t that what every story is? Trying to untie knots that you put in the rope yourself?

Since it’s part of the central struggle of this story, and kind of the question Andrew’s tried to imply with every Homestuck work about what right we have to keep these characters trapped in a story, and if they’d be better off escaping it.

I’m really trying to avoid quoting so much of this, since the commentary is paid...  but I think we can make an exception here?  I’ll have only quoted about half of it; just, the really plot-important half.  Plus, I left out a LOOOT of japes.

Dirk has a certain idea of how stories are supposed to go. That’s pretty much what the Epilogues is about. The audience also has a certain expectation of how a story is supposed to go. In a way, the Epilogues were also about that. They were taking a story that had reached the traditionally “acceptable” happily ever after, and saying, wait, no. What happens next? Thinking past happily ever after in any story is a terrifying prospect. Once Cinderella marries the prince, what then? Sure, she got what she wanted, but who knows that it will be everything she dreamt it would? What if she changes her mind, if not today, what about ten years from now? What if the prince dies of malaria? 

And I’m...

Yeah I don’t have anything else to add here, I’m kind of out of brain juice to think about this tonight.  BUSY day I had.  Y’all take care!

[sometimesrosy]

ugh. never ending fandom drama. as a fanfic writer i am tired of other fanfic writers' 'oh woe is me' outlook. in this day and age of internet and social media, one should expect criticism as well as praise. it is just how it is unfortunately. and these anon antis/critics are actually tumblrs that pretend to be sweet as pie, which is even worst. i know it can be hard, but we have to learn to ignore the antis. sorry, had to express my nonsensical thoughts lol.

Never ending fandom drama is right. 

However, I can’t agree with you. I’m not going to blame the fanfic writers for being upset at their treatment or getting angry and setting boundaries.

Expecting praise is one thing, but having people attack you is another.

The criticism fandom heaps on creators is not coming from a place of good intention. It’s not. 

It’s coming from a place of entitlement and a desire to control.

This is the same sort of behavior that I didn’t agree with when people turned on JR. It’s just now they don’t have the stand that “well he’s a professional he should expect criticism.”

I don’t really think so highly of all the criticism that people heap on content because a lot of the time it’s not really great criticism. It’s just complaining, and they aren’t always right, or just, or fair. But the louder they are, the more they can convince people. 

I mean? What’s the intention with the criticism?? Are people trying to learn IMPROVE the stories? No. That’s a critique, and you can’t do that unless the creator agrees to the critique. If you aren’t involved in their creative process, then no one asked for your critique, so shut it. It’s already written/produced.

Are people criticizing because they are trying to make SOCIETY better? No. Not in this case, although that’s often the claimed motivation, when they attack creators for not writing the right representation, whether they’re correct or not.

Are people criticizing because they’re trying to help people FIND the good content to watch/read? Like with a review. No. No they’re not. If they wanted to do that they’d just... you know... vote for what was good. 

Are people criticizing because they really APPRECIATE the work the writers are doing for free??? Oh well maybe. EXCEPT THEN THEY DEMAND MORE because what they’ve been given FOR FREE isn’t enough. And they think the writers should be writing on demand, on command and exactly what the audience wants.

Are people criticizing because they think the fandom is not doing something right and they think the fandom should do what they think the fandom should do??? YES that’s the one. 

They are controlling other people’s blogs, fanfics and fandom experience. And that is called bullying, and entitlement, and spoiled brats who are ruining people’s hobby and fun.

So, nope. Not going to blame the content creators for this one. I also don’t think people should write for approval... that’s a way to make yourself sad... you should write because you love it and want to write and want to share.

But you know what? When the audience for the writing become bullies and are creeps and cliquey and bitchy and send anon hate? 

It isn’t fun any more. And people will stop providing fanfic. 

I 100% stopped writing because I didn’t trust the fandom audience. I knew they were vindictive, judgmental, cliquish, dismissive, hateful and mean. 

And they, yes, hide behind a facade of being positive. The thing is, they are only positive about things they like and their friends. They don’t respect anyone else’s ideas, experience or content.

In my experence with antis in this fandom, some of whom are probably people you’re talking about, you can’t just “ignore” them. They talk about you in chats and lie about you and call you names. If you ignore them, they’ll keep coming back and they will try to influence others against you.

You gotta cut them out of your bubble and limit your experience to a smaller fandom that shares your tastes and philosophy. 

Unfollow, scroll past, mute, block, black list, whatever. Do NOT just delete the nasty anons. Do not respond. BLOCK THEM. Or they will keep sending you things.

I used to think fandom was a “safe place.”  No. It’s not. It’s like a big city, and it’s full of nutjobs and creeps and people who want to take advantage of you as well as kindly neighborly folk and friends and people you want to meet.

If you see someone acting like a nutjob or creep or bully, you don’t want those people in your circle, even if you like the shame ship or are mutuals. They are a bad influence.

It’s not the bullied people who are at fault. 

It’s the bullies.

Don’t blame the victim. Point the blame where it belongs. THE ASSHOLES. 

It really isn’t so hard not to be an asshole. 

[shinobicyrus]

Full Disclosure

My Christmas Truce fic for @rainosa, who asked for “Danny & parents angst.” I angsted the best I could manage this close to Christmas.  

 “...You redecorated.”

Tucker turns around and furrows his brow at him. It’s a stupid thing to say, but it’s the first thing Danny can think of as he stands in the doorway to Tucker’s room, the strap of his duffel digging into his shoulder.

“Huh?” Tucker looked around for confirmation. “Oh! Right, yeah. I moved some things around like...last semester? I think?”

Last semester? Has it really been that long since he visited Tuck at his house? New anime scrolls have replaced the last of the posters that had been around since middle school. The bookshelf has been moved to make space for a brand new desk, where Tuck’s computer is humming and idle. At least that was the same- unless Tucker’s been replacing its innards again.

No, except for the bed in the same old corner, Tuck’s room is practically unrecognizable. It’s been a lot longer than just one semester since Danny’s stepped foot in his best friend’s room, and he never even realized. 

Too busy with ghost-drama, probably. 

Tucker opens his arms to indicate the room, still littered with rumpled old clothes, comic books, and tech magazines. “Well, mi casa and whatever, I’m failing Spanish.”

“Tucker, you speak fluent Esperanto with Wulf. How are you failing Spanish?”

“Can never find time to finish the homework. It’s okay, I’ll just ace the final and squeak by.” He sweeps aside some t-shirts to excavate the carpeting  underneath. “Uh...you can put your stuff here. Sorry, I wasn’t expecting-”

“It’s fine.” Danny throws his duffel bag down on the cleared floor space and braces for the inevitable question. 

Instead, Tucker asks: “You want to watch a movie or fight off a demon-invasion on Mars?”

Danny releases a breath he didn’t know he’d been holding. “Maybe just a movie. Scientists accidentally opening a portal to hell sounds a little too...”

“Relevant to our current situation?”

"Yeah. That.” Danny sits down on Tucker’s bed and winces when he feels something very not-cushiony or bedlike. He rummages underneath and pulls out a thick comicbook with a werewolf-looking woman in frayed clothes on the cover. Tucker practically dives across the room to snatch it out of Danny’s hands as he just starts flipping through it. 

“Ha-ha that’s not a movie what’s this where did it even come from what a mystery.” Tucker quickly banishes it to his bookshelf. 

Danny raises any eyebrow. “The Den of Empress She-Wolf?”

“I am invoking the ‘no-judgements’ clause of our friendship.”

“Wow, it must be really bad.”

Tucker scowls in a vain effort to hide the blush coloring his cheeks, making Danny laugh. It feels good, feeling the tension from the past few hours dissolve in a short fit of giggles.

Yeah, coming here had been a good idea.

He lets Tucker choose the movie, and they both sit down on the bed with their backs against the wall. At least the TV hadn’t been moved since the last time Danny had been over.

He doesn’t really pay attention to the movie. It’s difficult to focus on anything for too long. At some point, Tucker’s Mom knocks softly and shows up with a gigantic bowl of stovetop popcorn. Danny doesn’t know what cover story Tucker fed his parents, but it had to be close enough to the truth, judging by the concerned look she thinks she’s hiding.

“Thanks, Mrs. Angela.”

“Oh, it’s no trouble. Just made a little too much, is all. You boys are settled in for the night?”

“Yes, Mom,” Tucker groans like he’s suffering. 

“Fine, fine, I won’t keep bothering you.” 

Danny’s phone pings in his pocket. Without even looking, he reaches in and silences it. He doesn’t need to see who it is- all of his friends have their own ringtone. 

Tucker looks at him, wearing the exact same look his mom just had. “Are you gonna check your-”

“Hit play, we’re in the middle of my favorite scene,” Danny says. It’s not a lie; Andrew Garfield really shines with classic Spider-Man sass against that carjacker.

Tucker looks like he wants to say something, but finally relents and starts the movie back up again. Danny releases another breath he’d been holding.

He doesn’t remember falling asleep. The room’s dark when he jolts awake; still muddled, Danny briefly thinks just for a moment, that he’s home. 

Tucker is sitting cross-legged at the end of the bed near Danny’s feet, the light from his laptop screen painting deep shadows and harsh digital. The memory of where he is and why he’s there settles back into his headspace like a sharp slap of focus. Danny knuckles at the crust and dark circles around his eyes. “What time is it?”

“A little past one.” Tucker keeps his gaze on the screen, keeping the manic tempo of clacking computer keys. Danny has no idea how that didn’t wake him. Maybe he’s gotten too good at grabbing whatever sleep he can, or his subconscious finds unmistakable Tucker-noises comforting.

Danny sits up and reaches out blindly for his phone, but this isn’t his room and Tucker keeps his nightstand on the other side, so he just ends up slapping his hand against the wall. Tucker wordlessly pulls Danny’s phone from someplace and hands it to him, somehow still typing one-handed. 

“Thanks.” He looks at the blanket pooled around him that wasn’t there before. “I took your bed,” He says it like an apology.

“S’okay. You looked like you needed it. That thing was buzzing up a storm, by the way.”

He’s right. The lockscreen says Danny has fifteen new messages. Sighing, Danny plugs in Sam’s birthday and checks them. Text messages from Jazz and Danielle, updating him and asking if he’s okay. No missed phone calls from his parents, thank God. 

The last call made on the phone was technically yesterday, when he called Tucker and asked if he could stay the night. Thirty seconds was all his voice could manage, at the time.

Even though Tucker had told him the time, it hadn’t registered until Danny’s looking at the clock on his phone and sees the missed notification he scheduled. Danny sits up straighter. “Patrol!” He blurts out. “I completely-”

“Already taken care of,” Tucker keeps coding. “Val and Sam are handling it.”

“Those two...together?”

He shrugged. “I dunno man, I think they had a secret meeting and hashed out their differences when we weren’t looking.”

Danny double-checked his messages, but there wasn’t anything from Sam or Val.

“So...uh.” Tucker clears his throat. “Jazz filled me in. While you were asleep. Actually, before you got here, too.” 

“She...did?”

“Yeah....her, Sam, and me kinda had this planned out for a while, now. For when it happened.”

“Oh.” He can’t quite look Tucker in the eyes. It’s...he guesses he shouldn’t be surprised. He’s actually really touched, that they had his back when he didn’t ask for it- that they were ready for whatever happened and never told him so he wouldn’t feel any more pressure than he already was.

“You told them.” Tucker says it not like a question.

“Yeah.”

“And...now you’re staying here.”

“It...didn’t go well.” Danny finally drags his eyes up to Tuck’s. “How much did Jazz tell you?”

“Just that shit went down and Operation We-Never-Decided-On-A-Name was in effect. She didn’t think it was right to say anything more unless you were ready.”

He should have guessed Jazz wouldn’t just blab about everything. His big sister was a lot of things (see also: meddling, anal, way too cheery at seven a.m.) but she’s been surprisingly good with boundaries and keeping his secrets, after the first few hiccups. “Wanna know the funny thing? It wasn’t the half-ghost thing.”

“But...what else would it be?”

“Don’t get me wrong, it just about gave them a heart attack, but things didn’t get bad until I told them everything.”

Tucker’s eyes widen. “Everything, everything?”

Danny chuckles sadly. “Turns out, finding out your best friend from college is secretly a ghost-monster trying to kill you and/or destroy your marriage is one thing, but your own kids knowing about it and lying about it?”

“Ooohhh.” Tucker nods. “That.” 

“Yeah. That. And since things couldn’t possibly get any worse, I thought: ‘why not just rip off the filthy band-aid that is my life all at once and tell them about their clone-daughter, too?’”

Tucker winces. “Ooohhhh crap.” 

“And that’s when the yelling started.” Danny changes his voice in a poor imitation of his mother. “’She’s just a little girl, how could you let her run away on her own!’ I mean, yeah, I definitely deserved that- but she had Valerie looking after her, and it’s not like I could force Danielle to do anything she didn’t want to do! And with Vlad I tried to explain how I had it under control, like, we had a mutually assured secret identity thing going on- he stopped trying to actively murder Dad years ago. All our stuff was strictly foiling evil plots and him beating the crap out of me sometimes.”

“And the cloning.” Tucker adds.

“Okay yeah that too, which is sort of how Danielle got name-dropped by sorta accident in the first place, but then they had the gall to berate me for not trusting them!” It’s like being back in the living room all over again. Danny’s fist is balled so tight his nails are biting crescents into his palms, and in the dark he can tell his eyes started blazing green again, which probably hadn’t helped things with his ghost-hunter parents, much.

“Trust? I’m like, Trust?! How can ever really trust people that have tried to shoot me on sight, before? That have spent whole family meals talking about dissecting me ‘molecule by molecule.’ How can I trust people that build a goddamn portal to the netherworld in their basement and put their family and the whole freaking town in danger every. Single. Day?!”

They’d been appalled when he exploded on them, even Jazz  looked uncomfortable, even if it was all thing’s she’d been saying for years- if a bit gentler. Looking back on it- replaying the whole thing over again- made his heart pound with residual panic.

But Tucker? Tucker just nods and listens.

Danny has to swallow down the sudden dryness squeezing his throat. “I blamed them.” He manages, throat hoarse. “I blamed everything on them. I told them their stupid portal turned me into this, and I looked them in the eye and said I saw the first accident, the one that made Vlad, and I said that if they wanted to angry at anyone, they should look in a mirror first.”

“Ouch,” Tucker says. “Not exactly inaccurate, but ouch.”

“It was around then I decided staying there was probably a bad idea and packed a bag.”

“That’s...probably for the best.” Tucker nods. “Get some distance, clear your head.”

“You and Sam kind of came up too.”

“We did?”

Danny makes sound resembling a laugh. “They asked if you guys knew. I don’t think I laughed harder in my entire life.”

Tucker blinks at him, slowly processing what he’d said, then bursts into a shoulder shaking laugh. “Oh my God. They actually asked if we knew?”

Danny chortles. “I know, right! I was like, ‘how do you think I even survived this long without going crazy’?”

Tucker’s so far gone he’s slapping his eye and wheezing desperately. “You literally yell ‘I’m Going Ghost!’ in the hallways at school! Even if you didn’t tell us, we’d have figured it out in like, a week!”

“I know!”

“Jazz figured you out!”

“I knooow!” Danny keels over with laughter, tears streaming down his face. 

Tucker wipes a tear from his eye. “And-heheh- and I think Sam would have noticed that her boyfriend’s eyes freaking glowed whenever they- wait- did you tell them you and Sam are-”

“God no, are you kidding? What am I, nuts?”

That just ignites a whole new round of laughter- they’re probably too loud, Tucker’s parents are two rooms away and might be wondering what sounds like a pair of cackling lunatics coming from their son’s room. But Danny and Tucker surrender to it and fall together in a heap on the bed, still shaking with little leftover giggles.

They lay there quietly in the dark on the bed like they used to in grade school. Back then staying up into one-am was a huge deal, devouring junk food, playing video games, and watching gory age-inappropriate movies action movies.

Now they usually stayed up this late hunting ghosts and cramming what little homework they could manage before falling asleep in exhaustion. 

Danny suddenly feels very tired. 

“What are we supposed to do now, Tuck?”

He didn’t even hesitate. “Stay here the rest of the weekend, eat unhealthy shit, and bingewatch bad anime from my hard drive?”

“God yes. You’re the best.”

“Hahah, hell yeah. Who’s best friend now?”

“Still Sam, but for completely different reasons.”

“No fair, I think I’ve proven I can totally pull off that same skirt.”

“I love you, Tuck, but that was so wrong.”

“Don’t shame me I got fifty bucks outta that deal and my legs looked great.”

Danny snorts back a laugh- and freezes when his phone buzzes.

Tucker waits a few moments for Danny’s head to stop pounding quite so fast before asking. “That Jazz again?”

“...no.” Danny’s shaking fingers fumble the password twice before he manages to bring up the single text message:

Mom [1:37am]: Never forget you’re my baby boy and I will always love you 

Tucker might be right about the best friend thing after all. He doesn’t say a word while Danny cries quietly on his bed. Just sits up, pulls the blanket over the both of them, and starts typing a comfortable rhythm on his laptop again.

[aligalloo]

Whipped Cream and Cuddles

Paring: Miniminter x reader

Word Count: 2,252 (sorry, I had fun)

Warnings: Couple of swears

Requested: Yes!

Requests: Open (PLEASE SEND ME SOME I BEG) 

Y/N - Your name

Simon and I have been friends for years, since we met in secondary school. We didn’t go to the same fine institute of education (lol), he was at a private college while I attended a public school across the city.  We were introduced by a mutual friend at a party; the football loving giant, and the shy, bookish girl.  Despite these differences in personality, we hit it off immediately and have remained friends up to this day.  I went to university in London, while he started a YouTube channel and became the teen heart-throb who inspires hysteria in millions of pre-teen and teenage girls across the globe, a fact I never let him forget.

“MINTER!” I yell, stepping into the ridiculous foyer of the Sidemen House, constantly in awe of the massive proportions of the house the boys called home.

“Hey Y/N, how’s it going?” Tobi is at the house filming with the others and greets me by the door.

“Not bad, thanks.  I haven’t been here much recently so I thought I’d stop by and see the boys,” I reply, giving him a quick hug.  

“You’re here to see ALL the boys huh?” Tobi winks at me cheekily, “Not one in particular?”

“Dudeeee,” I whine, “Give it up! There’s nothing between Simon and I, we’re just friends.”  

Sometimes I get sick of the constant ribbing that I get from the other members of the sidemen, but mostly I just roll my eyes and move on, especially since most of the comments are basically true.  I have been subconsciously developing feelings for Simon for a while now, but I refuse to acknowledge them because I can’t risk losing him as a friend: he’s too important to me.  Not to say that I haven’t been in relationships over the years, no, there have been  plenty of those, but none of them lasted long because my heart wasn’t really in it.  I am shocked out of these unwanted thoughts when Simon comes galloping down the stairs.

“Sweetie!  I’ve missed you!” he exclaimed, tackling me in a bear hug.  

(I should probably mention that Simon has this annoying habit of calling me stupid nicknames, somehow he manages to come up with a new one almost every time we see each other.  Secretly I don’t mind though, as it makes me feel like he cares enough to think of the stupid names in the first place.)

“Sweetie?  That’s a new one.  You haven’t started closet watching Doctor Who have you?”

“Eww no that’s such a nerd show Y/N!  I don’t know why you like it.”

“I like it because its quality television, unlike the dumb shows you watch.”

“Don’t insult my television preferences sweetie, it’s rude.”

“Just gonna break in here,” laughed Tobi, looking at me still in Simon’s arms, with my head tilted up to meet his eyes.  “I’m going to head home now, see you two lovebirds soon, yeah?”

I break away from Simon and walk over to Tobi, smacking him around the head as I hug him goodbye.  “Just friends, eh?” he whispers in my ear, earning himself another smack for the effort.

Simon wanders over curiously, and gives Tobi a quick, back-slapping hug.  “You should go for it bro,” I hear him mutter in Simon’s ear.  

“What?” Simon pulls back in confusion.  “You’ll see!” Tobi calls as he hurries out the door.  “See you guys soon.”

“Eh,” Simon shrugs, “Don’t know what that was about.”  

“Oh well, we all know that Tobi is a weird one,” I reply, curious myself but deciding to let it pass. “What do you want to do tonight?”

“I’ve got some editing to do and I need to film a video with the boys at some point, but wanna watch a movie until then?” He replies as we walk up the stairs to his bedroom.

“Yeah that’d be fun, any preferences?” I ask him as we arrive in him room.

“Nah I don’t care, you’re the guest, you pick.”

“Ok,” I reply.  “Oh my god, you cleaned your room!”

“Yeah,” he laughs, “I do that sometimes.  I know it doesn’t seem like it, but I do.”

“Very impressive,” I elbow him in the side, “Look who’s a big boy now!”

“Hey!” He exclaims, “You’re asking for trouble, sweetie.  Don’t test me, you never know what I could do.”

“You’re just a big softy, Minter.  You can’t fool me.” I look up at him with laughter in my eyes.  I see an unreadable expression in his eyes before he breaks eye contact and heads over to his desk.

“Only with you, love,” I think I hear him mutter, but surely not?  I shake my head and walk over to the bed to find a movie.  

“Hey Simon,” I call over a few minutes later.

“Yeah?” he replies.  Having finished his editing for the moment, he runs for the bed and dives into it, his head landing gently on my stomach.  I stroke his spiky hair absentmindedly as I scroll through the movies on Netflix.  

“Can we pleeeease watch Hocus Pocus since its nearly Halloween?” I ask, looking down at him, still laying on my stomach.  

“Ughh,” he groans, flipping over and moving up the bed so he’s sat with his shoulder touching mine.  “Do we have to?” he whines, “There’s still two weeks until Halloween.”

“Please?” I ask, bringing out the puppy-dog eyes.

“Don’t do that, sweetie,” he says, burying his head in my neck. “You know I can’t resist the eyes.”

“Does that mean yes?” I squeal, clapping my hands.

“Fine,” he sighs, “but next time I choose what we watch.”

“Yay,” I say, pressing play on the tv remote.  

We settle down to watch the movie, which I love and he hates, and before I know it its over and Simon has to go and film with the boys.  I sit beside him on the floor as he films, and end up laying my head on his leg and just listening to the banter.  Before I know it, he’s saying his outtro and turning off the camera.

“Shit! I didn’t realise it was so late,” I exclaim.  “I should probably get home Si.”

“Do you wanna just stay?  Its Sunday tomorrow.”

“Ah yeah, I might take you up on that actually.  I’m really too tired to drive.  Can I borrow a t-shirt to sleep in?” I ask.

“Yeah, sure,” he replies, walking over to his closet and tossing me a black SDMN shirt.  

I’ve stayed over plenty of times in the past so our routine is finely honed by now.  He retreats into the bathroom to get ready for bed while I lay on the floor by his desk.  He emerges and nudges my side gently with his foot, “Your turn, sweetie,” he smiles at me.  “Wanna watch Planet Earth before we sleep?”

“Yeah,” I reply, slowly getting up off the floor.  “Can you get it ready while I get changed?”

“Sure,” he replies, hopping into bed.

I emerge from the bathroom a few minutes later, clad in his t-shirt.  Its so big on me that I don’t bother wearing anything but underwear underneath, its just Simon, so not a big deal.  I get into bed with him and he starts the Mountains episode of Planet Earth.  As I get more and more sleepy, I subconsciously shift towards him in the bed, until my head is on his shoulder and he has his arm around me, holding me closer.  As I drift off to sleep, I feel him press a kiss on my forehead and whisper “sleep well, my love,” but that must be a dream, right?  

Normally when we share a bed Simon and I maintain a safe distance at all times, often on complete opposite sides of the bed, gravitating away from each other to keep separate.  For some reason though, tonight is different.  When I wake up in the middle of the night, desperately needing to use the toilet, I can feel my body enclosed in the tight circle of Simon’s arms, and as I extract myself carefully from his grip, he whimpers in annoyance.  I return from the bathroom and gently get back into the bed, and Simon slightly opens his arms in invitation, asking me silently to climb back into their strong embrace.  With a shrug, I do so, and fall back asleep, trying not to think too hard about the future implications of this night.  

In the morning, I am woken up from the best sleep I’ve had in a long time by the sound of JJ’s exclamation: “HOLY SHIT! I knew there was something going on between you two!”

Simon starts awake and sits up suddenly, seeing JJ by the bed with a can of whipped cream in his hand before sighing and flopping back down beside me, where I sleepily bury my face in his neck, breathing him in. “Mate, we’re just friends. How many times do I have to tell you this?”

For some unexplainable reason, this causes a stabbing pain in my chest, but I dismiss it and roll out of the bed, forgetting that I was only wearing Simon’s shirt.

“Fuck Y/N, what are you wearing?” JJ asks while his eyes travel down to my exposed legs.

“A t-shirt?” I reply, annoyed at him for stating the obvious and ogling me.

“Oi! Eyes on her face!” I start, not realising that Simon has come up beside me and is glaring at JJ over my head.

“Hey Si, it’s ok,” I say, smiling up at him. “JJ can you leave so we can get dressed? We’ll be downstairs in a minute.”

He nods, and heads out the door, leaving me and Simon in his room alone again.

“Can you please go downstairs and do damage control?” I ask, leaning against Simon in a warm hug.  “I’m really not in the mood for teasing today.”  

“Yeah sure sweetie, I’ll see you downstairs in a minute,” He replies, following JJ out the door.

I go into the bathroom and brush my teeth, putting some shorts on under the t-shirt I am wearing.  I then head down the stairs, but stop dead as I overhear the tail-end of the conversation being held in the kitchen.

“But what was that exactly?” JJ is asking in a smug tone.  “You still haven’t given me an answer.”

“I don’t know, ok?” Simon replies, and I can hear the irritation in his voice.  “I know her so well but sometimes I just really don’t know what the fuck is going on in her mind.”  

Deciding I don’t want to hear any more, I walk into the room and see Vik and Josh sitting at the counter with JJ and Simon.  They both stand up and say good morning and I give them quick hugs before sitting down at the extra seat next to Simon.  

Meanwhile, he is scrolling through twitter on his phone, and suddenly stops in shock. “JJ, what have you done?” he asks in a broken voice.  I quickly look over his shoulder and see a picture of him and me in his bed.  We’re clearly asleep, and my head is resting on his chest, with his arms wrapped around me tightly.  

I jump up from my chair and run out of the room, desperate to get out of the house and away from the boys in the kitchen.  My worst fear is Simon’s fans finding about me, being incredibly jealous, and taking him away from me.  I am so afraid that he will choose them over me, and decide he can’t be my best friend any more.  I reach his room and grab my phone and bag, tears obscuring my vision.  I whirl around, ready to run out of the house, when Simon appears in the doorway.

“Y/N, I’m so sorr– are you ok?” He cries, rushing over to me and pulling me into his arms.

“Si, do they hate me? I’m s-sorry if they hate me.  P-please, tell them that it was all a j-joke.  I d-don’t want you to lose fans because of m-me.” I sob into his chest.  

“Y/N, what are you talking about?” He asks, and I can hear the shock in his voice.

“Won’t you have to make a choice? They won’t understand us just being friends, and they’ll get so j-jealous.” My voice wobbles on the last word, betraying my real feelings.  

He sighs, and I look up at him, tears still running down my face.  “What if I don’t want to be just friends?” He almost whispers, “What if I love you and want to spend the rest of my life with you? What then?”

I draw away in shock, and he obviously takes it as a rejection because he starts to walk out of the room. “I’m sorry Y/N, I don’t know why I said that, forget it.”

“Simon,” I say, soft but clear, and he turns around to look at me.  “Come back here.”

Slowly, he walks back toward me and as soon as he is near enough, I grab the front of his shirt and go on tip-toe to reach his face, taking it gently in my hands as I connect our lips.  The kiss is a promise of things to come, and as I pull away I smile tearily at him and murmur “But I love you too, Si.  I thought you knew.”

He laughs as he pulls me to his chest, “Obviously not, love, but there’s plenty of time for all that now, eh?”

-fin-

[esmeralda-elite]

Act 1, Scene 3| Happy Girlfriend

2018

IT WAS FINALLY  LUNCHTIME AND ESMERALDA WAS WALKING OUT OF HER ART CLASS WITH A FELLOW CLASSMATE BY THE NAME OF CYNTHIA GOMÉZ. She was a curly haired girl that was very blunt and talkative, and both girl’s could talk the entire hour of their art class. The short latina was telling the girl about Marina’s party since the red haired girl had told her to invite others if she wished. Of course, Esmeralda had only stretched the invite to Cynthia.

“You should come! We’re getting our nails done together, then getting ready for the party together. You could join us!” Esmeralda says, excitedly.  “I don’t like parties. Too many people.” Cynthia says, shaking her head with distaste.

Esmeralda pouts, but nods at the girl. “That’s fine I just thought I’d ask.”

The two have spoken a lot about their personal anxieties. Parties being one of Cynthia, but she admitted that she likes being included even if she didn’t go. “Thank you. Uh, tell Marina I said good luck on finding a husband though.” Cynthia says, smirking. The short latina laughs, and nods. “Alright, I have to go and meet Guzmán.”

“Right… The boyfriend.” Cynthia says, knowing the boy was an asshole to everyone except the short latina beside her. Esmeralda laughs at the girl’s distaste, and waves as she turns down the hall in the direction of the boy’s class. “See you later, Cynthia.”

“See you!” The curly haired girl says, walking off to her next class.

Esmeralda smiles walking in the direction of her boyfriend’s class. On the way to the boy’s class she sees Mateo, Lucreia, and Guzmán standing outside the Headmistress’s office. She narrowed her eyes at the three, and stood behind her boyfriend to figure out what the three were looking at. “What are we looking at?”

The two boy’s jumped at the sound of the girl’s voice. Her brother and boyfriend look at the shorter girl who looked at them with narrowed eyes. “Nothing.” Guzmán said, stepping towards the girl, and wrapped an arm around the girl.

Esmeralda raises an eyebrow at her boyfriend and decides not to question the boy knowing it would probably anger her. It wouldn’t be the first time Guzmán has done something that would anger her since when those moments happened he was with Mateo and Lucreia. The girl rolls her eyes then motions down the hall. “Walk me to lunch? Marina’s redoing a math test, and Jenicka doesn’t want to be alone with us… Besides, I need to finish my history notes.”

“Uh… Yes. Let’s go.” Guzmán says, spinning the girl around and walking with her down the hall to the cafe. The boy wraps his arm around his shoulder, and smiles down at her. “Have I told you how beautiful you look today?”

“Kiss ass.” Esmeralda says, scoffing at the taller boy. He chuckles and leans down to kiss her cheek sloppily. The girl couldn’t help but giggle.

Inside the Cafe, the three scholarship students and Vincent Santiago were sitting at a table trying to catch up on the work they need. The Santiago boy was helping the three with getting caught up since he was at the top of his class and it wasn’t that hard to learn new things. Vincent was helping Nadia when his sister walked into the room. The girl smiles sweetly at the four and walks past them to an empty table.

“You know her?” Christian asks, looking at the girl as she walks past them with Guzmán. He turned back to the boy and wanted to know more. “She’s my sister.” Vincent says, looking at the boy with a raised eyebrow.

“And she's dating the asshole?” Christian says, getting amused smiles from his fellow scholarship students. Even Vincent couldn’t help but laugh at the comment. “Yeah, they’ve been dating for about a year now.”

The four turned to where the couple were sitting and saw Esmeralda sitting on one of the stools with Guzmán standing beside her whispering into her ear. They couldn’t hear what was being said but they could hear the girl’s giggles. Esmeralda pushes the boy away from her as he raises his hands in surrender. There was a smirk on Guzmán’s face, and he winked at her teasingly. A smile grew on the boy’s face as the girl mumbled some smart comment. They all could see a difference in the boy when he was around his friends and when he was with the girl.

Guzmán seemed to smile more when he was around Esmeralda. With her it was easy there were no high expectations. He felt safe with the girl, like she would protect him from anything. Then with his friends he felt the need to protect them, or be this tough guy who wasn’t affected by anything. Guzmán could be two different people and everyone could see it.

“I know it may be hard to believe, but they balance each other out… In their own twisted way.” Vincent says, watching as the boy kisses his sister’s head gently. Esmeralda must have said something to make her boyfriend laugh, since there was a smirk on her face as blush started to rise on Guzmán’s face and neck. The middle Santiago shakes his head then goes back to doing his work, and so do Samuel and Nadia. Christian on the other hand watches as two girls and three boy’s walk into the cafe and make their way to the table where the couple resided.

Esmeralda continued writing and did the rest of her history notes, Guzmán, Mateo, and Ander stood to the right of the girl talking, Polo sat on the left of Esmeralda talking to Carla and Lucreia who sat in front of him.

It was a little more than halfway through the lunch period when the silence was broken. “Who do you think calls the shots here?” Christian says, making the three at his table look up at him. They saw the table he was looking at and scoffed.

“Shouldn’t you be worrying about other things now? Like the fact you speak no French, for instance.” Samuel says, shaking his head at the boy. “Come on, it’s not… nothing, huh? A little butt. I got it all under control. You lend me your notes in English, and I translate them online to know what it’s all about.” Christian says, pointing to Nadia.

The girl narrowed her eyes at Christian. “I’m not going to give you my notes… And you shouldn’t be here. You’re taking a spot somebody else actually needs.”

“Wait, do you think I am here to study? No, no, no! I’m here to meet the people who rule the roost. They are not those with the best grades, but those who make the best friends. Watch.” Christian says, smirking. “Actually, it is the one that gets the best grades.” Vincent says, thinking of his sister. He knew that she was well on her way to making the top of her class. As was Marina - who he also wouldn’t be surprised at getting top of their class.  

The confident boy across from him shrugs and stood from his chair and made his way towards the table to hear the blonde - that kept looking at him - speak up. “Hey, Esmeralda. Do you know what time the party is?” Carla says, turning to the occupied brunette.

The girl looked up to answer the blonde, but was cut off by Christian. “What party? Hi, I’m Christian.” The boy says, resting his hand at the back of Esmeralda’s chair. Esmeralda tensed up at the presence behind her, then when she saw it was the harmless new boy she couldn’t help but smile. That kind smile was lost when the girl’s spoke up again.

“Yes. Hello! Do you speak Spanish?” Lucreia says, leaning toward the boy in a mocking way. Esmeralda rolls her eyes at the girl as Polo and Carla laugh. The short latina’s boyfriend and brother look up from their conversation with Ander to glare at the new student. “I was talking to my friends.” Guzmán says, looking Christian up and down.

“Oh, sorry.” Christian says, waving the boy off and turning to the girl’s. “Um, by the way, are you on Instagram? I can give you my username if you want.”

“Oh, yes! Yes, please!” Lucreia says, wanting to see if there was anything embarrancing about the boy. “It’s ‘pekechristian007’. The first one is a K.” Christian says, coming around the table to see the girl type the name into her phone.

“Pekechristian. Oh, no, no, no.” Lucreia says to herself, as she types the name into her phone. Esmeralda smiles at how happy Christian was that the girl’s that just might follow him. He seemed nice, and even fun to be around. A part of Esmeralda hoped they could be friends. She could definitely see the boy hanging out around the girl’s and herself.

The short latina frowns when she hears her brother grunt in displeasure. Guzmán also made his annoyance known. “I’ve fucking had it with these people. I don’t understand how they got into this school. I don’t.”

“Holy shit, this video! Look.” Lucreia says, laughing at a video of Christian dancing. She showed the others before looking back at the phone. The boy went to scroll but the girl snapped at him. “Do not touch me!”

“Lu, don’t be mean.” Carla says, rolling her eyes at the girl The boy walked away from Lucrecia to stand to the left of Esmeralda once more. “Ignore my friend.” The blonde girl adds, sending the boy a smile.

“So, what about this party?” Christian says, sending the girl a flirty smile. Esmeralda could feel Guzmán and Mateo standing on the other side of her, and her boyfriend was the one to  speak up. “My sister’s coming-out party is private, like our conversation.”

Of course, like always Polo has to be Guzmán’s echo in an argument. Esmeralda turned in her seat as Christian shrugged Polo’s arm off his shoulder. The boy’s girlfriend pulls on his ear to tell him to knock it off. It amused Esmeralda how wrapped around Carla’s finger Polo truly was. The blonde treated the boy like a pet.

Emseralda and Guzmán would never do that to one another. They would always back the other up in an argument, and later discuss why they thought the other was in the wrong. There was a mutual respect between the two. They both do their best to keep that balance.

“Who do I need to talk to about getting an invite?” Christian says, turning to wink at the blonde that defended him. “You’ve never partied with me.”

“A roof collapsed on you, right? Maybe the blow impaired your ability to take a hint. Shall I say it in French? So you get it? Au revoir.” Mateo says, to the boy as if he were a child. The new students clearly didn’t like the way he was being spoken too and decided to test Mateo’s patience. “And if I don’t feel like it?”

Esmeralda couldn’t help but be impressed by the balls on the boy. Everyone knew Mateo and knew never to test him. Guzmán had the same reputation. So, it was a surprise to see someone standing up to the two.

“Look… Because you’re slow, you don’t get how things work here.” Guzmán says, condescending. All the boys seem to take a step closer to the boy circling him in like vultures. “Guzmán.” Esmeralda says, warningly. She hoped the boy’s knew better than to start a fight out in the open. The boy’s also knew that Emseralda hated when they fought, so a part of them held back.

“No, leave him” Lucrecia says, waving the girl off. She seemed to enjoy the temperamental sides of the boys. Especially Guzmán. The short latina turns to glare at the taller girl. “Shut up, and go back to looking at yourself in the mirror.”

“But you friend there is starting to get it.” Guzmán says, motioning to the table that Christian walked away from. The boy’s girlfriend sends Ander a pleading look, and he nods grabbing a hold of Mateo’s arms. “Come, let’s go, Mateo.”

Ander pulls the boy away with the others following, as Emseralda quickly packs her things. Her boyfriend had not moved and continued to glare at the boy. The girl jumped off her stool, and grabbed Guzmán’s hand. She pulled the boy out of the cafe.

“Can we not pick a fight with someone for one day?” Esmeralda says, looping her arm with Guzmán’s as she looked up at the boy. She was annoyed with how her brother and Guzmán were acting towards the new students, but she just decided to ease the tension in her boyfriend’s body. “What’s the fun in that?” Guzmán says, smirking.

“Might not be fun for you, but it does make for a very happy Esmeralda when you don’t pick fights.” The girl says, jokingly before pouting. “And don’t you want your girlfriend to be happy?”

“Of course.” Guzmán says, stopping in the middle of the hallway. He gently grabbed her face in his hands and leaned down. “I can think of many other ways to make my girlfriend happy.”

Esmeralda smiles, as the male kisses her sweetly. “I think your ideas make you far happier than me.”

The dirty blonde smirks, and nods. “Yup… Especially the clothing optional ones.”

A laugh escapes the girl as the boy teasingly pulls at her skirt. Guzmán then throws his arm around the girl as they walk out the building to walk around for the rest of their lunch period.

Thankfully the end of the day came quickly.  There didn’t seem to be any more problems with the two males and the new students or there weren't any of the two classes Esmeralda was in, the other three classes weren’t spoken of to the girl. She’s decided it was probably best not to know.

Esmeralda was walking out the building with her Cello hanging off one shoulder. She was looking for keys in her purse when she ran into someone. The bag fell from her hands as a surprised gasp left her mouth. She looked up to see Christian about to apologize to whoever he ran into but smirks instead when he saw Esmeralda.

Like a gentleman he bends down to collect the things that fell from her purse. The girl soon follows as she gently puts her instrument on the ground to collect her things. She grabs her keys that fell out and took the purse from the boy when he helped her stand again. “Thank you.”

“No. I’m sorry. I wasn’t looking where I was going.” Christian says, shaking his head. The girl hums watching the boy pick up her instrument. He looks at the large thing and frowns. “You play the violin?”

A laugh escapes the girl, as she shakes her head. “It’s the Cello. And yes, I play… I play a few instruments actually.”

“Really? My father taught me how to play a few notes on the guitar, but that’s where the talent ends in my family.” Christian says, fixing his grip on the instrument to not break anything. “That’s one of the instruments I know. Ever think about taking lessons?” Esmearlda asked, taking the instrument from the boy who was holding it awkwardly.

“Like I could afford them.” Christian says, scoffing. He watches the girl as she throws the strap over her shoulder. It was strange seeing such a small girl carrying a large instrument. “Well that was before. You’re at La Encinas now. Lessons are free to students that ask.” Emsearalda says, smiling.

The boy shakes his head. “I don’t think your friends will be too happy about me joining more classes they are in.”

“My friends don’t play instruments. They all stopped taking their lessons two years ago. I was the only one to continue… I could take you to a class one time? The music teacher is very chill and would even excuse you from that period. He hopes to get more students or the music program will get cut next year… I’d love to have a friend in that class.” Esmeralda says, hopefully. She could see the boy hesitating, so she decides to drop it for now since he was at a maybe. “Think about it. My next strings class is in two days.”

“String?” Christian says, frowning. “I also play the flute and drums. Those students that want to play different instruments are on an A, B, C schedule… I can explain it all to you if you want to join. Anyways, I have to go pick up my little brother from school. See you tomorrow.” Esmeralda says, walking away from the boy.

“Oh!” Esmeralda says, stopping and turning around with a smirk on her face. “My instagram is @itsesme.”

The girl made her way to her car where her boyfriend stood waiting for the girl with Jenika and Marina. The girl’s were talking as the male leaned against the car looking at his phone. Jenicka was the first to catch sight of the girl. “Finally! What the hell were you doing? Making out with your other boyfriend?”

Marina lets out a laugh as Guzmán turns to glare at the afro-latina. Jenicka makes an ‘oops’ face and pats the boy on the back. “Sorry you had to hear it like this, brother.”

The boy scoffs and walks towards his girlfriend. When he meets her halfway he takes her instrument and kisses her. “There’s no other boyfriend, right?”

A laugh escapes the short latina’s lips. She gasps dramatically, pushing the boy away from her. “Like I’d tell you… I’m joking!” Esmeralda says, seeing the look on her boyfriend’s face.

“Only a little.” Esmeralda says, getting laughs from the girl’s. “These new boy’s aren’t that bad looking.”

The look on Guzmán’s face made Jenicka want to roll on the ground in laughter. Marina was also clutching her stomach at how gullible her brother could be. They all knew that Esmeralda had a lot more class than to cheat on someone. She would break up with him before she could ever think about cheating on Guzmán.

“I’m kidding.” Esmeralda says, walking towards her boyfriend who just grunts and walks to the back of the car to put the instrument away. “Baby!”

“Unlock, Esmeralda.” Guzmán says, making the girl gasp dramatically. She knew the boy wasn’t actually upset with her but she would still treat the boy like a baby. The girl unlocked the car and smiled at the girls to greet them. She made her way to the back of the car and wrapped her arms from the male from behind.

“Sabes que te quiero, ¿no?” Esmeralda says, kissing the middle of the boy’s back. {You know I love you, right?}

The boy’s tense body loosened up, as he turned around. “Yes… and your other boyfriend too, right?”

“Well, yeah.” Esmeralda says, jokingly. She gets an unamused look from the male as she laughs again. “I’m kidding!”

The boy tried to get away from the girl, but she pulled him down to her level to kiss him properly. Guzmán wouldn’t let the girl go farther, so she gently bit his bottom lip which earned a groan from the boy. “Ya deberías saberlo, Guzmán… Siempre consigo lo que quiero.” Esmeralda says, smirking up at the boy - who still had his eyes closed. {You should know by now, Guzmán… I always get what I want.}

Esmeralda gently bites his lip again, and pulls away slowly as his eyes open to watch the girl’s seductive actions. A groan left the boy as the girl pulled away from him completely. She giggles making her way to the drivers side. “Let’s go! Erik is waiting for us.”

The short latina starts the car as Guzmán closes the trunk and gets into the passenger seat grumpily. Marina was messing with her phone and Jenicka couldn’t seem to keep her mouth shut. “Awe, is little Guzmán mad that his hot girlfriend didn’t go all the way?” Jenicka says, in a baby voice.

“Cállate.” Guzmán says, glaring at the girl. He put his hand on his girlfriend’s thigh as she drove out of the school parking lot.  {Shut up.}

Esmeralda allowed Jenicka to take the aux cord as she found a parking spot in the elementary school. “Want me to go with you?” Guzmán asks, as the girl unbuckles her seat belt.

“No, it’s fine… But do you mind getting his carseat from the back?” Esmeralda says, motioning to the back. “Okay.” Guzmán says, getting out of the car with the girl. She walked to the building where a ton of kids were waiting for their parents or guardian.

“Esme!” Erik yells, running towards his sister with his new prize in hand. The girl smiles and bends down to pick the boy up in her arms. “How was your day?”

“Good! I got a prize for collecting five sticks in a row!” Erik says, excitedly. He showed his sister the animal eraser top. “Wow! What animal is it?” Esmeralda asks, excitedly.

“A dinosaur… They say Roar!” Erik says, growling like the prehistoric animals. The girl laughs, shakes her head as he puts the boy down. “You and your dinosaurs.”

Esmeralda turns and sees the boy’s teacher. “How was he today?”

“We worked on our names. He’s got the spelling down, but I want him to work on when and when not to use upper and lower case letters.” Ms.Julia says, smiling at the younger girl. Esmeralda hums, nodding at the woman. “Yeah. I noticed that too.  We’ll work on that at home.”

The woman nods, knowing the girl was good about making sure her brother was up to date with all the other students. She knew that the girl had absent parents and her brothers were no help with Erik. The seven year old always spoke about Esmeralda more than anyone else. “I know you will. See you two, tomorrow!”

“Well, say bye to Ms.Julia, Erik.” Esmeralda says, grabbing her brother’s hand. “Bye!” Erik says, pulling his sister in the direction of her car.

“Bye!” Esmeralda yells, back to the woman letting her brother pull her towards the parking lot. “Guzmán!” Erik yells, excitedly once he sees the boy standing outside the car.

“Erik!” Guzmán yells, smiling. The girl let’s Erik run once they are close enough. Guzmán picks the boy up and hugs him. “How was your day?”

“Good! I won a dinosaur!” Erik says, showing the older boy his prize.

[asklotarasarrin]

Getting Started Role Playing

I’ve had a number of asks on this topic over the years, and rather than retyping the same thing repeatedly, I’m gonna try and collect my thoughts on how to go about this. All of this is assuming you’re on desktop; mobile makes some things a little more difficult. Feel free to add to this; I’m sure there’s things I’m forgetting.

Warning: Long Post!

First things first: Preparation

Get your blog in order

Create a character bio - This should include character name, a description, and a background. If your character is a canon character, then it’s not so bad to forego this, but I think it’s a good idea even for canon characters, as not everyone is going to be familiar with every single character in a universe.

Put a short explanation of the blog in the blog header - This is like a pitch or an introduction to what your blog is about. This should indicate you’re an RP blog, who you RP(if you have multiple muses on the blog, I think it’s okay to just say ‘multiple OCs’ or ‘multiple muses’), and maybe the universe your muse is from. Some blogs also include if they’re selective or not, multi-ship or not, open to cross-over/multiverse or not, etc, but not nearly as necessary.

Rules page - not necessary, but sometimes helpful if you have any particular things, such as being unwilling to RP smut, or you have some triggers/sensitive topics that you aren’t will to do, etc.

Make sure your inbox is open - Seems silly, but I forget this one frequently when I’m making a new blog. Check other blog settings as well- (submissions, anon, etc)

Follow other blogs - This seems obvious, but it is key. Follow other blogs you want to RP with! Find others from the universe your muses are set in. Do take the time to read their bios and rules pages, if they have any.

Write an Introduction post - Not everyone does this, but I think it’s very helpful. It should be a SHORT post, in or out of character. Many blogs are disinclined to reblog long intro posts because people instinctively skip over walls of text.

Reblog RP memes - The Intro post will help generate interest, the RP memes make it easy to break the ice.

Next Step: Getting Out There

Provided you have taken the time to read other people’s rules and bios, reach out!

If they’ve reblogged memes you are interested in, send an ask with that meme - These are GREAT icebreakers so you can get started with relatively low effort. Friendly reminder: Read the meme carefully. Typically the meme has some form of explanation or instruction in it, and it is very frustrating when someone sends in a meme when they clearly did not bother to actually read what it’s about.

Use the messenger to ask to plot - Sometimes blogs don’t post memes often, or they reblog memes that don’t quite work for your character. Politely ask to plot. Try to come with ideas. It can be frustrating when someone comes to you wanting to plot but has NO idea about what to do. I personally will frequently take premises from memes I like and adjust them as necessary.

Open starters - Alternative to memes, sometimes blogs will post ‘open starters’. These are usually open ended in-character posts that other role players can reply to. It isn’t a bad idea to post your own open starters either, if you’re feeling up for it. Note: Generally speaking, open starters once taken by someone are not available for additional role players unless otherwise noted in the tags. If you like an open starter that has already been taken, you can also use the messenger to ask if you can also get in on that. Many RP bloggers use thread trackers, so the starter would need to be copied to a new post before beginning RP.

Important Notes: Etiquette

There are a number of rules and behaviors that are important to keep in mind, some obvious, some not so much. In no particular order.

Patience - This is my number one thing. RPers come from all walks of life- full-time students and career people, big and small families, personal struggles, different time zones, language barriers abound. And Tumblr is not a well programmed website, so notifications don’t pop up, or get buried under other things. So don’t panic if people don’t immediately reply. Don’t be rude when following up after a reasonable amount of time has passed. Give people the opportunity to measure their replies to you.

Try to keep your In Character and Out of Character clear/separate - Some RP blogs are actually a mishmash of personal and roleplay. Many blogs indicate in the tags or with markings of some form(the most common being ‘//’ slashes or () parentheses). It can be confusing for people without these markers.

Do not reblog RPs you are not involved in - This is a personal pet peeve. RP posts are often only snippets of the overall story, and when reblogged it is taken out of context. The other problem is it adds notifications to a thread that aren’t from the partner, and can be confusing. RPThreadTracker doesn’t have a problem with it, but other forms of tracking can struggle.

Respect and ‘Don’t like Don’t follow’ - universes big and small, OCs and Canon Characters over the top and from humble beginnings, we’re all here to have a good time. You’re not going to like every mun or muse you come across. Not every other blog is going to like you or your muse. People talk shit about self-inserts, teenage OCs, people who like to RP almost exclusively smut, and myriad of other things. But those muns are doing things that make them happy. And you don’t get to control what other people do. If you don’t like it, don’t follow. Don’t RP with them. Let it go.

Self Care - This is part of a larger topic and related to the above bullet point, but important to at least touch on. Not everyone who RPs is well or good. This is meant to be fun. So if you are stressed out or overwhelmed by an RP partner or thread for whatever reason, talk to your partner about it. If they do not respect your requests or needs, then it would be better to not RP with them. There are people who struggle with a myriad of health and situational issues. You will at one time or another meet people who will insist you cater to their every whim, try to control you and your muse. Block these people.

Read tags - This may not seem like an etiquette thing, but this is important. Some people communicate extensively this way. It will help to prevent communication errors.

Read More - use the read more function for NSFW threads. It’s the [...] at the end of the options bar

Tagging - Tag NSFW, triggering content, and anything else you think appropriate. I also try to tag my different verses, my in character and out of character posts, etc.

Trim Your Posts - This is hard to do on mobile, but necessary. When a post has many reblogs, it can be tedious to scroll past. Trimming them/cropping them makes a big difference. [Link here for a tutorial on how to trim - Browser]

Mun and Muse Knowledge [Meta Gaming] - There maybe things your character does not know, and cannot know, that you know. Remember to keep the distinction. Nothing kills my desire to RP with someone than their character somehow reading my character’s thoughts.

Controlling other Characters [God Modding] - You control your character. Your partner controls theirs. You don’t control if they get hit by a punch, if they dodge, if they punch back. It’s part of the give and take.

Drive the Story - Role Playing is joint story telling. Don’t put all the burden if directing where the story goes on your partner. Give your partner something to react to, to build on. If you only ever give one sentence replies, it’s going to get tedious fast.

Other Tips and Tricks

I am a big fan of XKit, a browser addon that makes Tumbling much easier for RPers. [Link here!] The specific functions that are most helpful are Editable Reblogs and One Click Reply. Editable reblogs makes it far easier to trim in post. One Click Reply makes it possible to reply to comments and other notification forms.

In addition to those two, I also like to use the Blacklist, and Post Block functions. Some RPers or topics I particularly cannot stand, so I use Blacklist to keep them from my dash. Post Block is great for those discourse posts and individual RP threads that just squick you out for whatever reason.

I also am easily lost and confused by the innumerable notifications I get on the daily, so it became very important for me to use a website called RPThreadTracker. I highly recommend it, as I occasionally have threads that don’t get replied to for weeks. They also have an add-on button so you can click to add a thread to your list quickly and easily.

Terms

There is a bit of a jargon with this. Sorry if it’s been confusing thus-far!

Mun - the writer behind the blog

Muse - the fictional character, the character

IC/OOC - In Character / Out of Character

OC - Original Character

Thread - the roleplay, the chain of posts making up the story

Selective/Semi-Selective/Private/Mutuals Only - This is often in a blog header - indicates how picky the mun is about selecting RP partners and threads. Read their rules. Respect their decisions to RP or not to RP.

Multi-verse - Indicates the blog is open to threads outside of their designated universe. (IE, my Warhammer character being willing to RP with an Overwatch character). It is advisable to message the mun to hash out the details.

DM or PM - Direct message or private message. Both indicate the tumblr message system.

AU - Alternate Universe. Indicates a deviation from the traditional universe.

[5hfanfiction]

Hard Feelings/Loveless

* * *

Upon reconnecting with the one person in this world who truly, truly hates you:

1.) Why even try to get right?

2.) Try to fix things, even though the only one who can mend your relationship is her.

3.) Accept defeat.

4.) Hope that she accepts your apology.

5.) Seriously…just give up.

To dive into the specifics would be boring, so I’ll just provide the gists: It begins with Ally ruthlessly attacking Camila, spewing words of pure hatred and disgust. Accusations, like why couldn’t you have just waited another year or why couldn’t you have warned us about your solo projects or why didn’t you try harder? Camila is left with few-worded replies, mostly “I’m sorry”s or “I don’t know”s. This back and forth goes on for a few minutes, before finally Ally breaks down crying.

It is the weakest Camila has ever seen the girl in all five years of knowing her. Blonde strands stick to her wet cheeks, her eyes burning red. “How could you do that to us?”  She sobs. “After everything?”

It is dangerous territory to hug the person who has hated you for nearly two years now. But despite all the shit that’s gone on between them, Camila still cares about Ally. It’s similar to the situation with Lauren, only more platonic, and perhaps more meaningful. A romantic relationship can be broken and unbroken a million times over, but a friendships exists as a pair of bones- you can only break them so much before the pain becomes unbearable. 

And so Camila does hug Ally, head resting on top of the shorter girl’s as she whispers, “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, we’re going to be okay.”

Perhaps it isn’t this easy- and both Camila and Ally know they have to actually talk before healing for good. But this is as far as either of them have the energy to go, so when they depart Ally simply smiles sadly and wipes away her tears. Camila brushes back a piece of loose hair behind Ally’s ears, then rests her hands on her shoulders. No words are exchanged, but the two hearts in the room bubble up with warmth: a new beginning.

It ends with Ally gently confronting Camila, spewing the words the other girl has dreaded her entire life. Accusations, like “Are you still in love with her?”

Camila clears her throat, sighing as she folds her hands together in defeat. She nods slowly, barely able to look Ally in the eye.

“And you know she’s with someone?”

Again, Camila nods, feeling sicker by the second.

“Does she love you, too?”

That’s a terrifying question. She thinks about it, then responds dryly, “Not that I know of. I doubt she can love me if she’s…with someone else.”

(This is, of course, false. There have been plenty of times throughout the years where Lauren kissed Camila or did more than kiss her despite having a relationship with someone else at the time. Camila would always try to reject her when she had the chance, but most times Lauren wouldn’t even reveal the truth until the morning after.)

(But Camila isn’t ready to know if Lauren truly loves her back. Not yet.)

“Look, Mila, I’m not going to tell you how detrimental to the group your relationship would be. I’m sure Dinah gave you a whole speech already, right?”

Camila nods reluctantly.

“But at this point, the group is already in danger. It’s not anyones fault, though. I don’t blame you or Lauren for having enough with the label. Just take things slow, okay?” Ally reaches for Camila’s hand. “Lauren’s a smart girl, most days of the week.”

Camila wants to ask Ally what she means by that. 

Camila wants to ask Ally what she should do with her feeling for Lauren.

Camila wants to talk to Ally like they’re sisters again.

But before she can blink, Ally’s walking out the door with a simple “text me if you need anything” and a reassuring smile. 

Again, Camila is left alone in the dark.

Alone with the hard feelings.

* * *

They haven’t spoken in two days.

Okay, so that’s kind of a lie. They haven’t not spoken, but they also haven’t really…spoken, either. Lauren tries her hardest to get a real conversation out of Camila, questions like “what are you up to today?” and “how are you?” and “Wanna catch lunch?” But Camila merely responds with a string of emojis, yes and no’s, and her most popular reply, “Can’t. I’m busy today.”

It’s only been two days. Two days, and both of them are aching for a real conversation. Yet Camila’s too scared to discover if Lauren truly loves her back, and Lauren won’t push the envelope if she knows it’s going to make Camila uncomfortable.

This sucks.

“What happened to let’s sort things out with words?”  

“This is different! I mean, what if she does like me back-“

“-Loves you back-“

“-The point is, it could be the final tipping point. Haven’t we done enough to tarnish our careers?”

“Is that the excuse you’re really pulling out of your ass today? You both did a livestream, admitting the label used us like puppets. All it did was put us more in the media’s eye- our label loved it! You really think they’re gonna care about you two dating?”

“I don’t know, I think I’m just…I think I’m just too scared to face my feelings for her.”

“Now is not the time to be a pussy, Camila.”

“I’m not being a pussy!”

“Are to.”

“Am not.”

“Are to!”

“Mani!”

Oh, did I forget to mention that Camila and Normani are actually on speaking terms now? Yeah, the two of them started talking the night of the big “fight” between Camila and Ally. It started out with Camila receiving a text from an unknown number, “It go okay?” Fearing it was indeed a past flame, she called the number to verify the identity it belonged to, and sure enough, it was Normani. 

The two girls didn’t have as much of a rough patch as Camila and Ally, or even Camila and Lauren had, but it’s safe to say neither of them ever expected to be friends again. But their first phone conversation lasted until the hours of the early dawn, both of them mutually passing out around four in the morning. Sometimes, things just click. Sometimes, the bone doesn’t need to be set in order to heal. Sometimes, it heals by itself.

Camila just wishes talking to Normani was as easy as talking to Lauren. She’s been too scared to communicate with Ally, and Dinah won’t even reply to her texts anymore. Again, Camila feels like she’s fucked up unknowingly, made a mistake by putting herself first. 

It, too, also sucks.

“Look, things are tense right now. Ally’s still scrambling to get her feelings together, and Dinah’s pissed that you-…”

Camila raises a brow, though Normani can’t see it. “That I what?”

“Um, anyway, Lauren’s just-“

“Mani.”

Normani sighs loudly, sending shivers down Camila’s back. “She’s mad that you have feelings for Lauren again when you promised you wouldn’t let that happen.”

“Did you tell her-!”

“Hey, no, she just assumed. You told Ally, then you told me on the phone, and Lauren refuses to talk about you to us…It’s only common sense, you know?”

Shit. Camila sighs in defeat, her heart growing heavier by the second. She should’ve told Dinah the moment she started having feelings again. She should’ve talked to Dinah after her confrontation with Ally-

“Just give her time, okay? Give them both some time. Dinah’ll come around, and Lauren’s a smart girl, most of the time.”

“Why does everyone keep saying that?”

Normani scoffs, and Camila can picture her rolling her eyes. “Look, why don’t you come to our rehearsal tonight? You’re gonna be at the venue anyway preparing for your performance, right?”

Damn. Camila’s been so caught up with this whole Lauren thing that she totally forgot why she’s even in LA in the first place. “Yeah, but I mean-“

“Camila Cabello, for once in your life just trust me. Mani takes care of her family, always.”

Camila’s heart sinks even further, unable to stop herself before the words slip out.

“You consider me family again?”

There’s a brief pause, Normani thinking it over.

“I honestly never stopped.”

With that, Camila says she’ll attend Fifth Harmony’s rehearsal, more for Normani’s sake than anyone else. She even tells the girl that she’s missed her, that she loves her. And to Camila’s surprise, Normani says the same thing.

Camila still has a few broken bones to heal, but she as she drifts into a power-nap, she decides that she’s willing to settle if it means her friendship with Normani remains intact.

* * *

If Camila’s being honest, she really hasn’t listened to Fifth Harmony’s new album in-depth. She skimmed over it leading up to her ‘meeting’ with Dinah, but only enough to decide she really loved “Don’t Say You Love Me” and “Lonely Night”.

He Like That is quickly becoming her new favorite, though, considering she’s heard it about five times in a row now and Lauren still sounds amazing, raspy tone and breath control and all. Camila’s standing side stage, hidden from view unless someone really looks for her. As Fifth Harmony rehearses and rehearses, Normani keeps glancing to her, winking and flickering her eyes from Lauren and back.

Every time, Camila shakes her head no, brows furrowing and cheeks blushing as she waits for Lauren to notice her. The taller girl doesn’t notice, of course, until the group calls five.

“Just talk to her,” Normani hides Camila’s shorter body from view, arms crossed. “It won’t be that bad.”

“This is embarrassing. This is like, really intrusive, Mani, like, she didn’t even know I was showing up and-“

Normani places her hands on Camila’s shoulders. “Mila,” Her eyes widen. “If you don’t talk to her, I’m going to tell her you like her myself.”

Love her, Camila almost corrects. But she curses herself for the thought, and instead nods and takes a deep breath before walking over to Lauren. The brunette is sitting at the edge of the stage, downing a water bottle while scrolling through her Tumblr feed on her phone. As Camila gets closer, she notices Lauren is kicking her feet, like a child. 

Camila’s fingers feel like ice against Lauren’s bare shoulder.

“Camila-?” Lauren almost falls off the stage, brows furrowing as she realizes it is indeed Camila Cabello standing before her. She jumps to her feet, then completely deflates. She takes another sip of her water.

“What are you doing here?” Her eyes flicker to her phone and stay there. “Thought you were busy today.”

“I-I was-…but-“

“But you weren’t, right?” Lauren smiles sadly, raising a brow. “You just didn’t wanna see me.”

“It’s not like that-“ Camila’s heart bounces in her chest- in a bad way. “I had rehearsal-“

“Are you seriously going to tell me rehearsal was holding you back from seeing me? From texting me, most of the time?”

Camila’s mouth runs dry at the look of Lauren’s tired eyes, her chapped lips and messy hair, strands loose from her high ponytail. God, Camila thinks, Did I do this?

“Lauren-“

“It’s fine, I get it. This entire thing is a lot to process. I guess I just thought we’d be able chill like we used to, but maybe I jumped to conclusions too fast.” She begins to turn around. “Hope you enjoyed the performance-“

“Lauren, wait!” Camila latches onto Lauren’s wrist, and suddenly she’s remembering the last time she did this she was met with a fist to the eye and wow she should probably let go but she doesn’t, she doesn’t let go and she makes a point of not letting go.

Lauren turns around, brow raised.

“I-..” Camila struggles with her words and bites her lip. “L-…” Finally, she just tells herself fuck it and spits whatever first comes to mind out.

“Go out to dinner with me?”

She knows she’s said the right thing when Lauren’s lips curl upwards, the hairpin smile she’s loved for so long- five years to be exact.

Then Camila remembers Lauren has a boyfriend, and probably shouldn’t be asking out a taken person out to dinner. She clarifies, “I mean, not like, um, like that, you know, just like, as um, you know-“

Lauren rolls her eyes, smiling wider. “You want me to go to dinner with you?” 

“Y-…yeah.” Camila smiles goofily, worried the girl before her is going to make fun of her. “Will you?”

Lauren runs her tongue over her lips. “Mm, I’ll consider it. But first you have to do me a favor.”

Anything. Camila nods.

Lauren steps closer- like, almost too close, and wow her face is right there but Camila really shouldn’t be focusing on that-

“Talk to Dinah for me, alright?” 

Camila sighs. Lauren Jauregui: grand killer of the mood.

“She’s been acting weird ever since the livestream, and she won’t talk to me but-“

“She won’t talk to me either,” Camila crosses her arms. “I’ve texted her like, ten times in the past two days with no response.”

Lauren pouts, and again Camila really shouldn’t be paying attention to Lauren’s face especially her mouth especially her lips but-

“I just think if you talk to her in person she’ll have no choice but to reply. She won’t talk to me face to face, but ignoring someone over text is easier. Look, Camz,” She puts a hand on Camila’s shoulder, and all Camila thinks is why is my skin suddenly on fire. “I’d love to go out to dinner with you, you know I would. I just feel like if I did it without warning Dinah first, she’d get even more mad. You know what I mean-“ Lauren squeezes Camila’s shoulder. “Jellybean?”

Camila hates Lauren. She really, really hates her. God, Camila’s in love with a loser. She watches as Lauren breaks out into a toothy grin. Fucking loser.

And she does have a point, Camila admits. Dinah’s upset because of the lack of communication, because of the lack of inclusion. For her to take Lauren out on a date without clearing it and affirming that it most certainly isn’t a date when it really is a date, kinda…The two girls have gone behind Dinah’s back enough as it is. 

“I’ll talk to her,” Camila nods. “Um…but are you-? Are you…um…free tonight?”

Lauren pouts, pretending to go over her plans for tonight. “Well…and then…eh…” She shrugs, pouting even harder. “Yeah, I’m free tonight.”

“Cool,” Camila’s mouth runs dry again. “Um, I’m gonna, you know…” She nods over to Dinah, who’s standing a few feet away from Lauren in the backstage area, talking to Ally.

Lauren nods. “See you tonight, babe.”

Camila feels like she’s fucking floating as she makes her way over to Dinah. A balloon, popped once she sees the look on Dinah’s face.

[detrevniwrit]

re: kacchako is bad (responses)

oh my god I'm going to answer all of these in one post because it’s been a freaking long day and i have no desire to answer each individual permutation of the same sentiments over and over again

read more this time bc it didn’t seem clear enough last time by the bolded ‘kacchako is bad title’ that you can scroll past if you’re sensitive to criticism because this is a criticism of kacchako.

Concern:

Don’t tag it in the ship tag if it’s hate! Just blacklist it if it bothers you so much. People can ship it if they want, don’t be mean/an asshole! :(

Answer:

I can't believe I'm getting "let people ship what they want don't spread hate it's never worth it" msgs in this year of our lord 2017. Don't moralize down to me about spreading hate and quit acting as if I went into people’s inboxes to harass and specifically be mean to them. I used the tag, yes, but I did it to bring kacchako fans’ attention to legitimate concerns I have about the ship’s consequences, and I made my opinion very explicit in the bolded title of the post so people can scroll past if they’re sensitive. I thought it was worth the risk to my sanity to make sure that people who aren't as sensitive to criticism won’t just ignore that there are important issues with kacchako because it’s easier, or because they just don’t know/never thought about it. (I’m now partially feeling it wasn’t worth it, but determined to stand by my points)

Concern:

I think kacchako is fine and I don’t defend abuse! I just imagine them in a place where Bakugou is grown up and not abusive anymore and Ochako doesn’t take that shit!

Answer: 

It has occurred to me that it’s rarely anyone’s intention to support abuse, which is why I bothered to write the original post at all. To reiterate my argument so I don’t get confused ‘kacchako is not abusive’s in my inbox, I’m not saying that kacchako is inherently abusive. I’m saying that as Izuku’s friend, Ochako wouldn’t be motivated to date Bakugou specifically because he bullies Izuku and has abusive tendencies towards her friend, and because she’s someone who cares about Izuku’s wellbeing she wouldn’t be interested in someone who continues to unapologetically treat Izuku like that. 

There is no ‘she secretly likes Bakugou’ right now, or vice versa. She just wants to catch up to Izuku. And Bakugou does not respect her more than he sees her as a threat.

To the reimagining future Bakugou part: again, I doubt anyone has the intention to erase Izuku’s experience as a victim of Bakugou’s bullying. I’m saying that no one writes Bakugou changing from a bully into a better person respectfully or realistically. Most interpret Bakugou’s one interaction with Ochako (in which he considers her a legitimate threat to beat) as an indicator of Bakugou beginning to change because of Ochako, even if after this interaction he’s still only interested in winning and dominating over others and if people are potentially in his way. 

Let me give you a definition of domestic abuse (my bolding):

"domestic abuse occurs whenever one person in an intimate relationship or marriage tries to dominate and control the other person. Domestic violence and abuse are used for one purpose and one purpose only: to gain and maintain total control over you. An abuser doesn’t ‘play fair.’ Abusers use fear, guilt, shame, and intimidation to wear you down and keep you under his or her thumb. Your abuser may also threaten you, hurt you, or hurt those around you.”

All kacchako shippers imagine a future Bakugou as someone who automatically deserves forgiveness for not being an asshole anymore, most likely due to Ochako keeping him in line, and not a single one has been able to describe, in informed detail, about how hard it is to change abusive behavior. 

“In discussing why abusers abuse, it’s clear that a lot of the causal factors behind these behaviors are learned attitudes and feelings of entitlement and privilege — which can be extremely difficult to truly change. [...] While we hope abusive partners will change, it’s not always realistic to expect that they can and will. Focus on changes you can control to improve your own life, because you deserved to feel loved, happy and safe.”

Signs of progress of changing abusive behavior include (some bolded for what I think kacchako shippers particularly don’t take into account often when characterizing future Bakugou):

Admitting fully to what they have done

Stopping excuses and blaming

Making amends

Accepting responsibility and recognizing that abuse is a choice

Identifying patterns of controlling behavior they use

Identifying the attitudes that drive their abuse

Accepting that overcoming abusiveness is a decades-long process — not declaring themselves “cured”

Not demanding credit for improvements they’ve made

Not treating improvements as vouchers to be spent on occasional acts of abuse (ex. “I haven’t done anything like this in a long time, so it’s not a big deal)

Developing respectful, kind, supportive behaviors

Carrying their weight and sharing power

Changing how they respond to their partner’s (or former partner’s) anger and grievances

Changing how they act in heated conflicts

Accepting the consequences of their actions (including not feeling sorry for themselves about the consequences, and not blaming their partner or children for them)

Making Bakugou an adult does not change that you need to write him checking his abusive behavior.

Concern:

But Bakugou has changed at this point in the manga---he and Izuku now have an understanding of trust and respect.

Answer:

Bakugou has only demonstrated one instance that he could be changing. Though change for Bakugou is a good and decidedly difficult feat, one instance does not an abusive pattern break.

Let me direct you to the classic cycle of abuse by psychologist Lenore Walker, with helpful manga caps from Ch. 117-121:

1) Tension building phase 

2) Acute battering phase (in which Izuku absolutely does not want to fight at first until he feels obligated to)

3) Honeymoon phase

“The abuse may be terrible, but the promises and generosity of the honeymoon phase give the victim the false belief that everything will be all right.”

Secondly, to the aforementioned abuse-changing bullets Bakugou has not achieved up to after he’s fought with Izuku Ch. 117-121:

Admitting fully to what they have done

Accepting responsibility and recognizing that abuse is a choice

Accepting that overcoming abusiveness is a decades-long process — not declaring themselves “cured”

Thirdly, to what he is beginning to do

Stopping excuses and blaming

Carrying their weight and sharing power

I concede that Bakugou is making steps towards change because he is a hardheaded egoistic teenager who up to this point hadn’t offered help out of his own volition. But if you’re taking this as a sign that he’s anywhere near lasting and permanent change, even years from now---I almost literally just wrote a foot of text and references as to why that isn’t realistic or respectful towards the realities of abusive behavior. Please realize you are likely oversimplifying his path towards change.

Concern:

Not all kacchako shippers are like that! I know (insert fanworks here) that are respectful, good, etc,

Answer:

Show me. I’m more than willing to take a look and then give you my detailed opinion afterwards, if you’d like.

Concern:

I’m not trying to force a het agenda, I just like the dynamic.

Answer:

I mentioned before that people may not realize their intentions don’t match up with consequences. I just wrote more than 2 hours worth explaining why kacchako doesn’t have a sensical basis for a good relationship and am considering just passing out on the spot right at this moment in sheer exhaustion. I’m just going to post screenshots that actually do have the aforementioned good qualities and ask politely that you consider these respective Ochako and Katsuki ships, instead of kacchako het, which endorses a contrived relationship over not straight ones that actually have a basis of mutual affection in canon:

Fuck, if you really really want to ship Uraraka with a guy Iida and/or Midoriya have plenty of shared affection and solid relationships with her, I trust you don’t need me to screen cap to know that. 

Concern:

If Bakugou is so problematic, wouldn’t any ship with him be problematic (including kiribaku)?

Answer:

Finally a good question. I would say yes and no. Yes, because if you’re a survivor of abuse it’s perfectly valid and understandable not to want to think about Bakugou and his potential romantic partners at all. No, for a variety of reasons, using kiribaku as an example: 

a) Bakugou and Kirishima are established friends with a relatively healthy, mutual relationship. Bakugou has a foul temper but he’s not abusive towards Kirishima, even going out of his way to---admittedly badly---help him study (above caps from the manga and light novel); Kirishima admires Bakugou, finds positive qualities in their friendship, and isn’t cowed, wary, or disgusted by him, like Ochako or Izuku and many others are. tl;dr, there is plenty of solid evidence to back up the mutual affection, respect, and trust between them, something that kacchako and---god forbid---bakudeku lack.

It’s actually good for Bakugou to learn how to develop uncontrolling behaviors through healthy relationships where he doesn't feel the need to dominate over his partner.  He can’t do this with Ochako, with whom he regards as nonexistent at best, and a threat to him as Izuku’s lackey at worst (I discussed this in detail further up). Referring back to the changing abusive behavior list, Bakugou’s relationship with Kirishima demonstrates that Bakugou can learn a) respectful, kind, supportive behaviors and b) carrying weight and sharing power. This doesn’t justify how Bakugou treats others, but it does facilitate a view of how Bakugou would be able to treat others better, which I think is worth exploring.

Concern:

Why do you care so much? People ship bad/problematic stuff all the time lol there’s nothing you can do to stop it. Just let it be or blacklist it or something??

Answer:

I’m maybe foolishly invested in the idea that some people don’t have to be like that when they’re informed and engaged in critical discourse, and well fuck I have time and resources and have already started two godamned things this weekend with fandom out of probably masochistic impulses, so why the fuck not. 

Just because I don’t like something doesn’t mean I’m here to attack people or be unwilling to talk to them about it---rather, I’m more concerned that people are so unwillingly to talk about why the things they like isn’t good?? 

Kacchako is just one instance. I can provide a lot more examples of this kind of behavior in different areas of interest, in detail, with plenty of support and reasons, over private message. Otherwise, I’m not interested in making a detailed -post- of examples of bad kacchakos because honestly, I’ve already spent a lot of my time writing this when I could be discussing more pressing issues. The downsides of hyper focus.

On that note, forgive me if I don’t immediately respond to further replies any time soon after this post. After more than 10 messages that entirely missed the point I’ve exhausted myself thinking people could put aside their first impulses and self-indulgences to maybe formulate better opinions on tumblr.com, rather than sending me vague, misinformed, and/or childishly defensive insults that don’t actually tell me I’m wrong.

[davidastbury]

April 2019

April 2019

Old Bank Street

Someone once told me about Old Bank Street - he knew all about local history. I nodded politely and let him ramble on.

I did not tell him that it is part of my history too - that I have a claim to a modest proprietorial pride. That some fragments of my happiness are still pulsing in the atoms of the brickwork. I can look at the paving stones - the same paving stones - and hear the quickening sound of her shoes - getting louder!

It’s a pleasant conspiracy. Old Bank Street, narrow, undistinguished and gloomy, remembers with pleasure, how it was once lit up by her smile.

How it was

5.30 pm - Friday - 30th September 1955 - California - Junction State Route 46 and State Route 41.

Porsche Spyder in collision with a 1950 Ford Tudor. The aluminium bodied Porsche shredded like flaky pastry.

5.281 miles away a ten-year-old secretly kept the newspaper articles and tried to imagine the speeding car and what the crash must have been like - the low sun, the blinding metallic shine and then the silence afterwards.

He imagined the empty highway to Salinas, the loneliness of death and James Dean in a box.

On the Plane

Cool kid slumped in window seat. He had to be told by cabin crew to fasten seatbelt - slow blink and then a slow smile. Sour black hoodie, grey trackies, hi-tech watch with rubber strap, reversed baseball cap. He slept for an hour or so and woke with a jerk. Waived for the stewardess, the one who told him to fasten his seatbelt - asked her for a bottle of Bell’s whisky. He doesn’t look eighteen, but she gets it for him.

There’s a girl looking at him and she fancies him something rotten - but she’s wasting her time, he’s so cool - he doesn’t give a flying fuck.

All at Sea

A beautiful day - a cloudless sky marked only by the crumbling white trail of a vanished jet - freshly rinsed ochre beach; but the sea (I was the solitary swimmer) was cold. I only lasted ten minutes or so and my hands became numb.

As I came out of the water I was approached by a young black woman. For a second I thought I had drowned and was caught up in some sort of afterlife. She moved with the fluidity of a dancer or athlete - much taller than me, slapping the sand from her shoes, wearing only a turban and a green bikini.

'L'eau est froid?'

'Oui, bien sur'

'You are English'?

'Yes'

'You are a strong man.'

So we had a chat! Everyone on the beach was watching. Vanity of vanities; illusion is everything. Elderly, sun-tanned film producer - hillside villa in Positano - the girl laughing, showing perfect teeth, her shiny shoulders, her sand peppered legs.

And I breathed the beauty of this perfect day - the locals repairing the damage of Wednesday's storm, the barbecue smoke drifting over the railings and the white-jacketed waiter holding my drink on a steel tray.

Mother's Day

A Kurdish friend once said to me that love, like water, runs downwards; it flows downwards through the generations. I didn't fully agree with him but the following (totally true) story would appear to substantiate his theory.

The daughter said to her mother - 'I am thinking about a family holiday'.

'That would be really nice' replied the mother - 'Do you have anywhere in mind?'

'Yes - the Seychelles'.

Next day the mother eagerly made enquiries - which airports, dates, flight times, choices of hotels etc.

She telephoned her daughter and started to give her the details. The daughter interrupted her - 'Oh - I didn't mean you coming. I said we wanted a family holiday- you misunderstood me.'

The mother got through the next minute or so - put down the phone - not sure what day it was.

Overheard in restaurant

We slightly know the woman at the next table - she more or less lives here in the hotel and the waiters are planning a birthday surprise for her next week; she will be eighty.

Woman: ‘Where’s my water? You’ve taken away my water!’

Waiter: ‘No problem Madame, I’ll bring you some more’.

Woman: ‘That’s no good - I had dissolved my tablets in that water.’

Waiter: ‘I am sorry Madame ’.

Woman: ‘If I get pregnant it will be your fault!’

My hearing started to crackle and fizz as it was buffeted by the noise in the hotel swimming pool. The cacophony of screams and shouts and splashes all melding into a mangled mess.

Until, like sunshine bursting through clouds, my brain soothed the jagged tangle of impulses and I began to hear the massed Red Army Choir singing 'The Volga Boatmen'.

The Beach at Night

And so we talk of our happiness and fears; sometimes glancing at the sea and sky - at the lights in the sky! The individual brightness and the glowing smear of distant billions.

Mathematicians and prophets fail to impress; I am lost by page four and then return to my narrow wisdom - the victim - the rejected parent - the girl fussing her hair - the eyes of the hooked fish - the purring of a pregnant cat.

On the Beach

Young couple. Looking a bit incongruous in formal clothes; he fair-haired French; she dark Berber or Arab. The woman was holding a plastic cat basket; both of them looking down at the sand; both of them clearly upset. We walked towards them; the woman was wiping her eyes. I could see a beautiful white cat peering out through the basket grill.

Pat spoke to the man in French and he told his story.

They visit the spot because it is where they buried their pet cat. She was about to give birth to kittens when she died. They regularly visit her grave, as often as they can - and they bring their other cat with them. The two cats were devoted to each other and it seems right that he should come too.

The man, seeing that I wasn't properly following his French, said in English - 'She was going to have kittens but she died. That is why I am crying now.'

# 5 ... Winter 1965

They spent the winter of 1965 in that cold room in Whalley Range. They didn't need anyone else - it was always just the two of them and no matter how often they did what twenty-year-olds in love tend to do, they could never get enough of each other.

She once knelt beside him and said - 'Is there anything that you want? Is there something that you'd like - something you have never asked for? I will do anything for you - anything - you only have to tell me - I will do anything.'

And sadness choked him - sadness and pity.

She put a hand to his face and whispered - 'I've never said that before.'

#4 ... Winter Nights ... 1965

She was frightened of the man downstairs. Sometimes they came face to face in the hall and she would try to be bright and friendly but there was something about him that made her shiver. Sometimes at night she would lie awake listening for sounds outside her door; certain that someone was putting on gloves before working on the frail lock. There was one particularly terrifying night when a burglar was on the fire escape - she could see him through the side window.

Everything was better when her boyfriend stayed. The fears didn’t exist when another person was around. It didn’t matter that her boyfriend would have been pretty useless in a fight - all she wanted was someone with her - someone who would take away the dread of being alone.

#3 ... Winter Nights ... 1965

The boyfriend wanted to go out for a drink but she didn’t feel up to it. He asked her why she had an aversion to pubs; why she never appeared to be comfortable in them. She replied that she didn’t have an aversion - she just did not feel like going out - as simple as that.

Their conversation became a bit testy. He began to probe her past and she said more about her upbringing than she had ever done before. She mentioned her father’s oppressive, controlling nature; how she had tried to please him, but nothing seemed good enough. Strangely, the boyfriend defended her father; this totally amazed her; knowing that despite there being no chance of mutual liking or respect, there was some sort of masculine bond that over-rode everything she said. She became angry and cranked up the dispute until it became heated. The boyfriend grabbed his coat and stormed out.

Later at the pub, things looked different. He began to think that he shouldn’t have upset her. She was right and he was wrong.

Back at the flat, she regretted what she had called him - she had been unfair - she was wrong and he was right.

#2 ... Winter Nights ... 1965

Her boyfriend brought a Dansette record player and an armful of his favourite albums - mostly blues, Muddy Waters, Big Bill Broonzy and protest songs from a young Bob Dylan.

Every Friday evening she’d be invited to friends houses but, a bit guiltily, she’d refuse. Instead her boyfriend would turn up at the flat and he would break up cigarettes and sprinkle stuff from a little packet. He would re-roll them; they would share the smoke and sit listening to Leadbelly slapping his 12 string guitar.

But when her boyfriend was wasn’t around she didn’t play Leadbelly. She would brush her hair and put on a 45 she brought from home. She kept the record hidden amongst her books, so that her boyfriend didn’t see it.

(The record is in the link in the comments below)

Winter Nights 1965

Cheap rented room in Whalley Range. She’d tried to fix up curtains - tried to make it nice. No TV and burglars had stolen her radio. It was a large room; a leftover from a different world; you could see it in the high ceilings, the double dado rails, the missing interior shutters; the grandeur of the chalk coloured fireplace with its florid carved scrolls, now reduced to housing a sad little electric fire.

These were nights of twilight and shadows; when it seemed as cold inside as out. When the yellow streetlights leaked through the draughty windows and the twigs of the giant chestnut tree scraped across the glass.

And they huddled together. They couldn’t have been happier. Nights of cider and cigarettes - of sour metallic kisses - nights when he couldn’t get enough of her - nights when he was insatiable for her quick mind, her breath, her hair, her voice, her face, warmth, smell.

And the world could not offer anything better to him - nothing compared with their nights in that cheap rented room in Whalley Range.

Russell

I will never know how he navigated the perilous seas of adolescence. How he got through the deep waters - the rocks - the currents - the sharks! I will never know what became of him ... but of this I am sure :-

He was, and would always be a friend to every creature; he would never harm or be cruel to anything. He lacked (lamentably, according to at least one teacher) a competitive component in his character - he didn’t mind losing. Although his parents had spent a small fortune on musical instruments and lessons, the piano etc would only be items of fun and amusement. He was splendidly un-neurotic - pleased with his own genial personality and his dark, beetle-browed face. Things might not have been as rosy as I am painting them; there was a stammer and he chewed his finger nails down to the stumps; but that was all - he didn’t appear to be worried about anything and the stammer and twitches were just ... well, what Russell did.

In my little stories I have tried to describe Russell and what it was like being with him. Of course I cannot get near to it. He was extraordinary in his simplicity - he wouldn’t cheat you or try to get the better of you - he would listen to what you told him and wouldn’t repeat it to others - he wasn’t critical about things he couldn’t understand, such as my fondness for his sister; or why the grinning gardener at home was always putting an arm around him.

But the definitive image for me is when the two of us were once crossing a field. The grass was long and the sun burned our necks and legs. And Russell was ahead of me - he turned round, laughing, arms windmilling, falling backwards into a future where I would no longer know him.

Dreams and fantasies are vivid for as long as they remain dreams and fantasies; once they become realities they shrivel into the mundane.

A book unwritten can be a source of joy - it will be a masterpiece!

Think of Tolstoy - still in his thirties; having completed ‘War and Peace’ and ‘Anna Karenina’ - instructing the staff on his country estate to hide all the farm ropes. Despite knowing that he was the greatest living writer, despite his adoring wife and family, despite his wealth beyond reckoning - he could not trust himself alone with a piece of rope.

Ava and Andre

Andre Previn, as a naive seventeen year old, was playing the piano at a Hollywood party; melodies by Rogers and Hart, Kern, Gershwin.

He spoke of how Ava Gardner came across to him - ‘She sat on the bench next to me. She listened to me play, quite attentively, and then asked an incredible question: “Would you like to take me home later?”

The innocence Previn missed the subtext and declined. Two years later, and more worldly wise, he was at another party playing the piano. Spotting Gardner once more he finished playing, ambled over and asked: “Can I take you home later?”

As he recalled: ‘She gave me a radiant smile of pure sweetness, patted my hand and said - “Go fuck yourself, kid”’.

home in Missoula,

home in Truckee,

home in Opelousas,

ain’t no home for me;

home in ol’ Medora,

home in Wounded Knee,

home in Ogallala,

home will never be.

(Jack Kerouac)

The Drugs Bust 1966

Ian had been drinking in the Town Hall Tavern when the police did one of their periodic raids. I’m sure he didn’t do much in drugs, other than the occasional smoke, but he knew a lot of people who did. His girlfriend Lorna kept him on the straight and narrow, but she wasn’t with him on this particular night.

Ian was bundled with all the others; they were forced to stand in a line and wait to be questioned. And this is where he took up the story - and he loved telling it. He was a natural mimic and relished imitating the policeman’s accent and facial contortions. Lorna would fall about laughing even though she had heard it all many times.

The policeman asked Ian where he had hidden his drugs. Ian replied that he didn’t have any drugs. The policeman said he wasn’t happy. Ian said he was sorry.

‘I’m not happy at all!’ - said the policeman.

Ian looked at him sympathetically.

‘I am not satisfied ... and I am going to have to take down your particulars.’

(Lorna would be snorting with laughter)

Policeman - ‘Name?’

Ian - ‘Ian Smith’.

Policeman - ‘Address?’

Ian - ‘33 Orchard Grove, Heald Green.’

Policeman - ‘Occupation?’

Ian - ‘If you had asked me that question on Friday I would have said “subscriptions manager for American scientific journals. And if you ask me that question next week I would tell you that I have launched my own magazine.’

Policeman - ‘A magazine eh? What sort of magazine?’

(Everyone fell about laughing)

Russell and the Ambiguity ... 1957

We were all squeezed into the back of the car. Russell was sprawled and taking up too much room. Caroline’s friend was proprietorial with Russell - she was quick to push him, give him little slaps, rumple his hair etc.

So Russell was sprawling and the girl had flipped her bare legs across his lap; he looked back at her and giggled as the dog, wriggling with suppressed excitement, licked his face.

Caroline pretended to be bored and reaching back slid the glass panel which isolated the driver. And then she looked at me - and I looked away, and then looked back at her and she was still looking at me - and then I looked away again and didn’t look back because I knew she was still looking at me.

When we arrived we ran on the beach. There wasn’t much wind and our kite wouldn’t stay up. The tide was out leaving the sand ribbed, mile after mile; the sea glittering far away. Russell got sand in one of his eyes and Caroline’s friend offered to get it out with her tongue. He refused her offer and she approached him on all fours like an animal. Russell was lying on a striped beach towel, hands over his eyes. She pounced on him and they were both laughing.

Caroline was trying to pull a soggy ball from the dog’s mouth. He was shaking his head and growling. I was confused about what was happening - I was confused by Russell’s unsuspected maturity - his easy way with the girl - something totally unknown to me.

So I write about the ambiguity I felt that day - the medley of delicious confusion, which even now, all these years later, still evokes an image of innocence melting into the thick broth of adolescent lust.

Party 1965

It wasn’t such a nice evening - nothing special at all. It only figured in his memory because of two events. Earlier he had visited a city-centre barber’s shop and requested a new hairstyle. The man himself - whose walls were covered in photographs of smiling famous clients - did the cutting. He was made to understand that the maestro only accepted him because of a cancellation - but the price was still high. Anyway, the young man was pleased with the haircut which he considered very cool.

Later, he turned up at the little after-work party - someone was getting married or leaving or someone was arriving or having a baby; all that is forgotten. But the memory of the girl hasn’t faded at all. How she stood - how she held her drink in both hands - how cleverly her tight chalk-striped skirt and jumper contrasted with her dramatic eye make-up. Perhaps emboldened - perhaps drunkenly overconfident with his new haircut - he gulped down his second drink and went across to her.

He got it all wrong. She wasn’t having any. She muttered something and turned away.

So the evening remained in his memory. The friends who didn’t much interest him; the drinks he didn’t want - and the girl who turned away, leaving the immortal image of her pharaoh eyes, black jumper and tight, chalk-stripe skirt.

From 2016

He came in on Interstate 26, through Jamison and Sangaree - Goose Creek off on the left, and finally Charleston. He had a beer overlooking the Wando River; the waters sparkling in the afternoon sunshine, reminding him of his girlfriend's eyes - the girl he loved - the girl back in Volunteers Ridge, Daufuskie Island, just east of Savannah.

Summer in the City

There was high anxiety in Princess Street - sharp words at the junction with Mosley Street West. It was as if the sky was closing and the world was ending. But eventually the right words were said and they kissed for a long time - two lovers in the doorway of the Institute of Mechanical Engineers.

A concert consisting of three movements - a play in three acts - a triptych of three paintings - a third volume to conclude the story - the Three Graces - the Three Dancers - the Three Wise Men - the three aspects of the Trinity - something so satisfying about ‘three’.

But HE wants four! He wants to smash the first three into pieces and emerge totally free of shape, colour, sound - free of thought and reason - free of childish maturity - drunk with the bliss of knowing nothing, saying nothing, desiring nothing except the certainty of endless displacement, loss of self - loss of folly.

Everything has been said better by the ancients. Show me any modern author who can match this ....

‘This was Argos, trained as a puppy by Odysseus, but never taken on a hunt before his master sailed for Troy. The young men, afterward, hunted wild goats with him, and hare, and deer, but he had grown old in his master’s absence. Treated as rubbish now, he lay at last upon a mass of dung before the gates – manure of mules and cows, piled there until fieldhands could spread it on the king’s estate. Abandoned there, and half destroyed with flies, old Argos lay. But when he knew he heard Odysseus’ voice nearby, he did his best to wag his tail, nose down, with flattened ears, having no strength to move nearer his master. And the man looked away, wiping the tears from his face...’