#pool party corki

[brandonwayneb]

💪🏽 Sir Tan Lee (Certainly Elite)

🎃 Pumpkin Repeat 🔂

TAN SAND PROMISE HEALTHY COMMONS

TAN SAND HEALTHY PROMISE LANDS

Healthy Tan, Sand, and Land

Gock at feet 🦶🏽

Talk at taco 🌮

Car Park 🚗 🚙 at toys r us breakroom pendulum (Pen Jew Lum)

🐸⚙️ Leapfrog toy at

Barbie Desk Babble 👱🏼‍♀️⌨️🐝 💾🗃️🗄️

Homeless Camps ⛺️ War Revamps 🧛🏼‍♂️🧛🏼‍♂️🧛🏼‍♂️

Slander Camps ⛺️ slander campaigns

Death ☠️ Rollercoaster 🎢 Psy Show, Sideshow Circus 🎪 Clown 🤡 Hospital 🏥

X O X O XOXO death hugs 🐻 🧸 🤑

BEAR NEEDLES 💉🐻🍯🤑

BARB BAR CODE KNUCKLES 💉🐻🍯🤑

Storm ⛈️ Run Hurricane 🌀 Rod Slave Ron, “Micro Wave Work Arrons”

“Baby Bid Bib Babs Babble Bunny 🐰 bibs”

Corky Wine 🍷 Raffle Ticket 🎟️ Dollar 💵 Bills Nut Number Money 💰 Euro 💶 Rope Velvet Vatican’s Popes by the throats.

Make them think of an “old billy goat 🐐”

Make them think of an “old ham bone 🦴”

Make them think of an “old dolly lama” 🐪🦙

Make them think of an “oak mill momma” 🐄

Make them all a “PIE OAK TEA” hebrew basket

🧠🧺🪺🦠🍗💩👁️🥧🦢🏭

Paper Islands 🏝️ 🤑💲💸

Goose Factorties RE SET 🦢 “Micro Foe Bets”

"pringle chips" 🍪 🤖 ☠️🦮👩‍🦯👩‍🦯👩‍🦯👩‍🦯🙈

"celery sticks" 🍾🥒 green pizza 🤑🧩🪲🍕

“work over stage actor down codes”

🤡🧢 pringle chips 🍪

🤡🧢 celery sticks 🥒

towels 🧼 🚿 🧖🏻‍♀️🧖🏽‍♂️🧖🏽🧖🏽🧖🏻‍♀️🧖🏽‍♂️

towels are for heads

TOWELS AND VOWS

not

“tow truck pow sights”

👘🥻👳🏽‍♀️👳🏽👳🏽‍♂️👳🏽👳🏽‍♀️👳🏽👳🏽

🤍🤎

Vows dont "total" 🙏🏽

Vow’s Life Vows

ALWAYS TWO types of vows.

✌🏽🙏🏽💞🙏🏽 ✌🏽

not for talcum powder ❌🥤❄️🍧

not for baking soda ❌🥤❄️🍧

"Tow Cum Powder" 👩🏾‍🍳👩🏾‍🍳👩🏾‍🍳👩🏾‍🍳

"Bake Soda" 🧑🏿‍🍳🧑🏿‍🍳🧑🏿‍🍳🧑🏿‍🍳

Tow Truck "VOW TOTAL" tricks

🛻🛻🛻🛻🛻🛻🛻

🚛🚛🚛🚛🚛🚛🚛

🚚🚚🚚🚚🚚🚚🚚

🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃

Office BreakRoom Rubber Slipper Water Cooler

🥿 🩴🛼👟👡 💧🚰

Chit Chat 💬 📍📌🧷🦀🦆🤏🏼

Office Water Coolers. 🥸🚾🚰

Seals 🦭🌪️🪵

Sharks 🦈 🌪️🪵

Dolphins 🐬 🌪️ 🪵

Statue of Liberty, swimming pool 🏊‍♀️ 🍕🌭🗽

🍌🏦 Bloods Bank Brooklyn New York 🅱️📚

Brooklyn Baby Chair Sitter New York 👼🏽💺

“Sitting The Statue Of Liberty In A Chair”

🎢😵‍💫🎬💇🏼‍♀️💀☠️💈💺🪑🦼🦽💈☠️💀🏴‍☠️

asian sushi Yorky husky minx cash spa sinks

YORKY DOG 🐕

HUSKY DOG 🐕

POODLE DOG 🐩

“The Three Horsemen”

Hay Bell 🍴🛎️

Hate Bell 👺🛎️

Meet Bell 🥩🛎️

Burger Bell 🍔🛎️

Excel Axe Cell Gang Desk Crew

😵‍💫👩🏼‍🚒👨🏿‍🚒🧑🏼‍🚒👨🏿‍🚒🪓🛎️

“Except, Axe Ace Front Desk Holding”

🪓♠️♥️♣️♦️🃏📇🪪💳🪓🛎️

Hotel 🏨 Holding Desk Tricks

“Hotel Management Teams”

“Creating Multiple Paper Front Clone Companies”

“Hotel Super Mall Complex Spreaders”

Corruption sources

“Tow Truck Fruit Markets”

“Hotel Micro Mega Management Malls”

Truck 🛻 Farm 🚜 Stolen Life Resources

Through Corrupt Business Front Line SILVER DISH LINES

Service on “a silver platter” dome head

🐟📐👨🏻‍🦳🪙🍽️

👴🏻🧓🏼💉💸🤑🦠🧬🦠🦢🐀🐭🐹

“cell retarding TAR RAT GLUE GOOSEBUMPS”

white blue yellow, cell a fella

TAR, RAT, devert blame to Japan 🇯🇵 and Jamaica 🇯🇲 PAY RIOT PARROTS 🦜

To blame PIE RATES… PIE RATS

🥧 🐀 💩

Blame SEA RAFT, DRAFT

WINDY SAILS Cash Boats 🛥️ 🚤 🛶

Blame a black “rat shit axe ratchet hatchet”

HAT 👒 HAT 🎩 NAT NAT NIT NIT BLANKET BIT “black hats” “black HAIR ASS”

“black harassment”

“envy in voice”

“invoice receipt PIE 🥧 recEIPt 🧾”

Paper Puppet Office Pets

💃🏽👫🧍🏽‍♂️🪡🧾 PEN DAY HOSTS

PEN DAY HOPES

PEN DAY HOES

PEN DAY ROPES

Velvet Ropes Wet Newpaper 🅾️🅱️🅾️🩸📰🗞️

white covers

“bioluminescence ectoplasm”

“episode napkin fanny pack raffle ticket eater”

Reviving Health Ethics

🦜 Parrot Veterans (NON Pirate slanders)

🦜 Parrot Truth Speakers

🦜 Parrot Boy Scouts, not “COT” abuse

Reviving “Pet Parrots”

of “PAY RIOTS”

or of “Pay Rabbits”

Parrot 🦜

Rabbit 🐇

Additionally Inclusive RABBI, 👁️ 🐰 👂🏽👂🏽

Rabbi Healthy Prayers 🙏🏽

Dj Rabbit 🐰 With Armor Headphones 🎧

🎶🎶🎧🐰🎧🎶🎶

Emerald Teal Green

Ruby Roxy Red

🍀 ☘️

Clover Irish Welsh Celtic

Distinguish RED health, separately than “WHITE” X parties

Such as DENOUNCE racists “white only”

“america germany england”

“blue white yellow”

🔵♿️🧢

⚪️🦴🥼

🟡🍋🧅

Sarcastic Sar Cast Stick 🐟 ironic ion RON tick

Promote TV 📺 SILVER REMOTE

“WHITE NOISE” “Stereotype foam”

White Micro Management Genocide Systems

“Micro Management”

“Micro Mysteria Hysteria”

“Micro MICE Hysteria”

“Micro NICE MICE” 🐁 Head lice Snow Globe

“Micro His Stare ER area”

“Micro Management STARE ER”

“MY CODE, Micro”

“MY CODE MIKE”

“MY CODE MIKE SKULL”

“NYC CODE TIME TRICK”

“MY COOL CODE”

“MY COM MODE”

“MY TOLIET COMODE”

“MY CO MODE”

“Micro Code STARE ER AREA”

“Hysteria Mysteria”

Stare at hostile hospital victims with “sub”

“subtle” “sub til” knowledge…

“Micro My Code Mike’s Skull”

“america germany england”

🇺🇸🇩🇪🏴󠁧󠁢󠁥󠁮󠁧󠁿

1 hop, and two skips, down blaming “jumbled bumbled history inaccuracies, cover ups”

jumble bumbled

belongs to, “open the jungle book”

not “blackjack casino front backdoors”

change “blackjack market” into

“white backdoor trip wires”

and then you open “black ectoplasm”

“play puss at them”

“murders and cats fighting old women”

“black EVE”

“black ECHO STOW”

“black echo STOVE”

“black echo X COVE”

“black TOW TRUCK”

“black etch-a-Sketch shuffle soundboard”

that should help, the “black lions roar”

“getting past WHITE ONLY CELL LAB doors”

dont do CHEAT TESTS CHEAT TAS 🐆

Yellow Cat is white money sick cat…

dont so PAN THORE 〰️⚫️

pants 👖 naked black ass

Pan cat is white money sick bed cats

Beds and FOG THORN firsts…

Just do JAMAICA RAINBOW PARROT 🦜

and work over criminal activity that relates to

“rats, hamsters, gerbils, and GOOSE GEESE.”

and “bears, polar bears grizzle frizzle bears”

Reject “rats, hamsters, gerbils, geese goose, and bears.”

and theres no longer white proceedings if we ALL keep healthy ProLife99.

And reject the “false white elitism biological public genocide narratives.”

[notoriouslydevious]

Goodbye & Good Luck Riot KateyKhaos

Yesterday Katey posted to her twitter saying that next thursday will be her last day at Riot (so most likely Sept 16th, 2021). 

She was known as the Nami-Mommy throughout most of the community and worked on a BUNCH of skins.  She posted this on her Riot anniversary on June 30th of all the skins she worked on: 

Since it's pretty hard to read from the picture, I'll do my best to list them all: 2014: Reaper Soraka Victorious Morgana Battlecast Kog'maw Captain Volibear Constable Trundle Winter Wonder Orianna 2015: Wild Card Shaco King of Clubs Morde Order of the Lotus Irelia Prehistoric Cho'gath Pool Party Rek'sai Pool Party Draven Captain Fortune Battle Boss Blitzcrank Arcade Riven Project: Yi Project Fiora Championship Kalista Warden Karma Warden Jax Marauder Alistar Marauder Olaf Marauder Ashe Marauder Warwick Demon Vi Slayer Jinx Void Bringer Illaoi Snow Day Syndra Blood Moon Elise Challenger Ahri DJ Sona Firecracker Jinx Sweetheart Annie Debonair Galio Headhunter Akali Urf the Nami-tee Archduke Nasus Definitely Not Udyr Order of the Banana Soraka Guardian of the Sands Rammus Arclight Vayne Risen Fiddlesticks Queen of Diamonds Syndra Ace of Spades Ezreal 2016: Challenger Nidalee Lunar Wraith Morgana Sweetheart Sona Heartseeker Orianna Death Blossom Kha'zix Hextech Ward Mecha Zero Sion Mecha Zero Ward Super Galaxy Kindred Super Galaxy Fizz Freljord Taliyah El Leon Gnar El Macho Mundo Deep Sea Nami Star Guardian Jinx Mechs and Minions Ward Victorious Maokai Elementalist Lux Elementalist Ward 2017: Heartseeker Quinn Love Dove Ward Festival Queen Anivia Dragon Sorceress Zyra Moo Cow alistar Dreadnova Darius Cosmic Blade Master Yi Cosmic Dawn Rakan Pulsefire Caitlyn Pulsefire ward SKT T1 Nami SKT T1 Syndra Pentakill Kayle Star Guardian Ahri Star Guardian Miss Fortune Star Guardian Soraka Beekeeper Signed Arclight Yorick Death Sworn Katarina Death Sworn Viktor Death Sworn Zed Mecha Rengar 2018: Sweetheart Rakan Sweetheart Xayah Lunar Empress Lux Lunar Guardian Warwick Lunar Guardian Nasus Dragon Master Swain Resistance Illaoi Pizza Delivery Sivir Dark Star Cho'gath (I went to HS with Brian, the guy they made this skin for ♥) SSG Ezreal SSG Jarvan SSG Xayah SSG Rakan SSG Gnar SSG Taliyah Pool Party Zoe Pool Party Caitlyn Pool Party Gangplank Mafia Braum (or now "Crime City" Braum) High Noon Thresh High Noon Urgot Divine Sword Irelia Enduring Sword Talon Infernal Amumu Count Kledula Trick or Treat Ekko Program Nami Victorious Orianna Pajama Guardian Soraka Pajama Guardian Miss Fortune Pajama Guardian Ezreal Pajama Guardian Lux Pajama Guardian Lulu Ice King Twitch Frozen Prince Mundo Winter Wonder Soraka Hextech Renekton 2019: Blood Moon Pyke Blood Moon Aatrox & Prestige Blood Moon Sivir Firecracker Vayne & Prestige Firecracker Sejuani Coin Emperor Tahm Kench Heartpiercer Fiora Heartbreaker Vi Papercraft Anivia Papercraft Nunu Arclight Brand Pretty Kitty Rengar Fuzz Fizz Corgi Corki Meowrick Dunkmaster Ivern Hextech Jarvan IG Leblanc IG Camille IG Fiora IG Kai'sa Dark Star Shaco Dark Star Karma Arcade Kai'sa Arcade Caitlyn Battle Boss Yasuo Demacia Vice Garen Demacia Vice Lucian Dragon Oracle Udyr Hextech Rammus Elderwood Ahri Elderwood Nocturne Elderwood Veigar Championship Ryze Valiant Sword Riven Majestice Empress Morgana Splendid Staff Nami High Noon Ashe Witch's Brew Blitz Bewitched Miss Fortune Count Kassadin Dawnbringer Karma Dawnbringer Nidalee Nightbringer Vladimir Nightbringer Lee Sin 2020: Mecha Kingdoms Garen Heartseeker Jinx Heartseeker Yuumi Furyhorn Cosplay Veigar Pajama Guardian Urgot Coven Zyra Coven Leblanc FPX Malphite FPX Vayne FPX Lee Sin FPX Thresh Spirit Blossom Yasuo Spirit Blossom Cassiopeia PsyOps Master Yi PsyOps Ezreal PsyOps Pyke PsyOps Viktor Championship Leblanc K/DA All Out Seraphine Cosmic Destiny Nami Battle Queen Janna Elderwood Xayah Elderwood Rakan 2021: Ruined Karma Ruined Shyvana Ruined Draven Space Groove Lux Space Groove Nasus DWG Jhin DWG Nidalee PROJECT: Sejuani Sentinel Irelia It honestly scares me that not one, not two, but now THREE people in the skins department are leaving back to back (Stellari, Zeronis in October of 2020 and now Katey.. like what the fuck is going on??? At least Steve Zheng is still getting commissioned.. I think). I will certainly miss Katey wherever she flips her fins. 🧜‍♀️♥

[wheredafandomat]

The Hotel Waitress 🏨P7🏨 Just Ice Cream

Previous chapter

As the three of you walked towards the ice cream stall, you looked down at Danny.

“What’s your favourite flavour Dans?”

“Pistachio” he cheered swinging your arm.

“Alright. Could you get three pistachio ice creams please love.” You smiled turning towards Jonathan who nodded. As you looked at him, you noticed Angela behind him. You decided to ask Danny a few questions in the hopes that she could hear.

“Danny, do you know who’s coming to the party on Sunday?”

Danny looked up at you with a puzzled expression before answering. “It’s a select group, around 25.”

Hearing the conversation, Angela approached the three of you and turned towards the ice cream stand.

“Sorry, I need to hear the complete list, all the names of all your ice creams.” She asked the man behind the stand politely before ‘noticing’ you three and saying a small “sorry” followed with a tight lipped smile.

You looked back down at Danny to ask another question as Jonathan ordered.

“I think Sandy and Caroline will probably be there, won’t they?”

Danny, being only focused on the ice cream being prepared, just shrugged his shoulders and replied with a simple “I don’t know who’s coming.”

“You see Danny, I’ve got this problem, It’s Corks. I don’t think he likes me very much.” You admitted with a small chuckle.

“Why not?” He asked looking up at you.

Before answering, you glanced towards Angela to ensure she was listening. “I don’t know. He’s trying to find out everything he can about me, all the way back to the time of the ancient Egyptians.” You laughed as Jonathan handed you both your ice creams.

“Gracias” the three of you bid before turning back around to leave.

The next day, Jonathan had a lie in again whilst you and Roper played tennis. Whenever you’d look around, you’d always sight Corky somewhere glaring at you. Ignoring him, you continued your rallying with Roper, occasionally breaking for a small chat. Once Jonathan was up, you both decided to take Danny to the beach.

You sat on the shore adorned in a long summer dress as Jonathan and Danny skipped stones in the water.

“So how often do you come here Danny?” You called towards Danny.

“Only in the summer.” He replied without turning around.

“Must be nice to see dad though?” Jonathan added looking down at Danny who just frowned.

“He’s not here much.” Danny sighed.

“Well, I suppose he works hard” Jonathan smiled.

“That’s why he has such a big house.” Danny remarked.

“I bet you’ve counted all the rooms.” You laughed approaching the pair as you held the bottom of your dress up.

“23” Danny smiled “There’s three kitchens and a really big office by the pool. And then there’s the secret study in Ropers bedroom but no one is allowed in there.”

“Except you.” You prompted.

“I’m not. He calls it the citadel. And there’s only one key which is hidden.” He replied shaking his head.

“Do you know what’s inside Danny?” Jonathan asked pausing his actions.

“He says it’s full of peppermints” Danny laughed.

“Well I’d lock it up too if I were him” you chuckled “come on boys, let’s go.”

“Plus there’s an alarm. They test it everyday at 11.” Danny said grabbing your hand before stopping his walking.

“What’s the matter sweetie?” You asked looking at him and following his gaze into the water.

“You have to be careful.” He warned.

“Why?” You and Jonathan both asked in unison.

“That’s where I cut my foot last year” he said pointing to the water “Roper made me stand in the water for ages because of the salt.”

As the three of you walked hand in hand back to the shore, you saw Roper approaching you with a smile.

“Go on Dans, Jed and the other kids are inside.” He said gesturing for Danny to leave which he did.

When it was just the three of you, Roper walked towards the water and started skipping rocks as you and Jonathan watched confused before sitting down.

“Are you two pink?” He asked over his shoulder looking at you both before returning his focus back onto the water “socialists, left wing, March of History, that sort of thing? It wouldn’t bother me if you were, it’s another one of Corky’s bugbears.”

“He seems to have a few” you said rolling your eyes.

“Yeah. Been in a lot of foxholes, me and Corky. One time we spent a week together in a police cell in Delhi. I don’t think I’ve ever laughed so much in my life.” Roper reminisced turning to the two of you.

“Was he drinking then?” Jonathan remarked.

“Thomas” you cautioned putting the back of your hand on his stomach as he and Roper exchanged a glare.

“Well, now, that is a deeply odd thing to say.” Roper said walking towards you both.

“Thomas just means that Corkran enjoys a little tipple, that’s all” you assured, smiling at Roper who turned his attention to you.

“What business is it of his” he spat pointing at Jonathan “how much he drinks?”

Jonathan took a deep breath before explaining. “When my father was serving in Belfast, a Sargent in his platoon got drunk one night, told a local girl what the next days operation was” Jonathan paused to look down at your hand as you laced it with his “man I loved most in the world was dead for five pints of lager and the promise of a quickie.” He scoffed turning away from Roper.

“Look at me baby” you said grabbing Jonathan’s cheek to face you as you gave him an apologetic smile as if you both hadn’t planned this conversation already.

“Right” Roper announced slightly apologetic “so you don’t drink and you’re not pink, what are you Pine? Me, I’m a free man. Free to think, free to work, free to climb a mountain or lie in a bed all day eating peppermint creams without any bugger telling me how.”

Jonathan looked from you to up to Roper “then I am a free man.”

Tags:

@kingtwhiddleston

@sititran

@virtualstrawberrydinosaur

[samiii-p]

sneaking in to ask for more Mandy and Daria hcs (maybe how they acted before they became an item/ maybe jealous Sonya/ DADDY SONYA!) 👀 I need more content PLEASE

sorry this is late and short ...

Flirting comes as 2nd nature, naturally it spills over into their friendship.

People assume they’re dating and are majorly confused when Mandy introduces her fiancé (who is a man) like, “WHAT DO YOU MEAN YOU AND DARIA ARENT ENGAGED!? I’VE BEEN WAITING ON MY WEDDING INVATATION FOR WEEKS!”

Mandy verbalizes her affection, Daria expresses hers.

Don’t bad talk the blonde in front of Daria, she will fight you.

They love hyping the hell out of each other.

The one time Daria gets serious about a girl Mandy tries to play the supportive friend. She befriends her girlfriend, helps her select gifts and suggests anniversary ideas but she hates every second of it. Not that the girl isn’t super nice or compatible with Daria, she’s perfectly fine.

Daria crushes on Mandy hard when they meet but lets it go over time; becomes a serial dater in the process.

One time Mandy overhears Daria describe their friendship as, “we’re like sisters” to reassure her catch of the week, and ew – no.

During their TE days, they roomed together. When it’s time to move out and get their own place; Mandy cries.

They’ve kissed once at a Christmas party. A friend catches them under mistletoe and suddenly the whole room is chanting, “kiss, kiss, kiss!”

(their friends kinda sorta super majorly ship them (a betting pool may even exist to see when they’ll make it official).)

(xavier woods wins the betting pool)

BOUND (1996) is Mandy’s bi awakening. Daria catches it on TV one night while they’re on the road and phew does it unleash some wild fantasies staring Daria as her Corky.

Absentmindedly Daria finds herself playing with Mandy’s fingers more often than not.

100 empty seats in sight, Mandy will still choose Daria’s lap.

Mandy fumbles her words in front of Daria (especially when she starts developing a crush). It’s baffling and Daria teases, “am I making you [winky face] nervous?”

When Mandy does something extra nice for Daria, she jokes, “I could kiss you on the mouth right now! Thank you!” Mandy blushes everytime.

Daria’s terrible at dancing but will learn a whole routine if Mandy wants.

“I’VE BEEN LOOKING FOR THAT HOODIE FOR WEEKS! WHEN DID YOU EVEN STEAL IT?”

When Mandy gets drunk she gets real touchy feely. Daria has to settle her down. “Whoa, whoa, uh – M-Mandy,” the blonde’s hand slips from her belt buckle to palm between her legs. “HEEEEEEY NOW! Let’s get you to bed so you can sleep this off.”

‘Holy shit,’ Mandy thinks, chewing on the inside of her cheek. She glances at her best friend piling a shopping cart full of energy drinks and Oreos with an almost crazed grin and realizes, ‘I’m in love…’

Mandy breaks off her engagement.

Daria isn’t jealous of Mandy’s fiancé or people hitting on her friend in general. She’ll easily admit to anyone willing to listen, “Mandy’s beautiful. And smart and frickin amazing. She’s the best person I know. Who wouldn’t want to be around her, and if you so happen to make her happy then why wouldn’t I want that?”

“You know what I like about you?”

“What?”

“You make every day feel like a Saturday.” Mandy can’t wipe the smile off her face for the rest of the day.

They instantly become a part of each other’s families. Daria’s mom is always asking after Mandy and even calls her to catch up. Mandy’s parents are sure to always send a birthday gift and Christmas presents along with Mandy after the holidays.

They are intentional and genuine with everything they do in their friendship.

The first time Daria takes Mandy to Pride she goes home with a fanny pack full of numbers. “If you ever decide to switch teams at least we know you’ve got options.”

When things get to stressful Daria keeps Mandy company, never saying too much. Mandy needs time to process but she remains a quiet presence. Mandy gently coaxes Daria’s feelings out or else they’ll fester until she explodes on an innocent bystander.

“Love you,” is expressed throughout their entire friendship.

[justjessame]

Sins of the Father: Chapter 9

I considered skipping dinner, but I hadn’t had any time with Danny since breakfast and that felt wrong to me.  Sliding out of my bed and taking care to redress for dinner and remove any signs that might show that I had any distress at all during my day, I found that we’d be eating inside - and I was thankful for it.  

Anytime we dined al fresco, the atmosphere became more and more frantic until it became a party and I was in no mood for that.  

“You look more rested,” Dad offered once everyone greeted me, holding my chair for me, and brushing a kiss on my temple.  “Do you feel better?”  

“A bit,” smiling at Danny, I was happy to see that he wasn’t holding a grudge for my lack of attention during the day.  “I guess my jetlag finally caught up to me.”  

That was all the others needed to get going, and the conversation flowed.  Jed kept a careful distance, her comments never directed at me, but never too awkward either.  She knew how the sharks could smell blood in this group, and was well practiced already in keeping her weaknesses covered.  She needn’t have bothered, I was busy listening to Danny’s plans for the next day - he wanted to go to the beach and I was more than willing to take him.  

While we chatted with one another, and ate, the others discussed the best ways to deal with jetlag and weariness in general, because once you got them going - that’s really all it took.  

Dinner wound down sooner than it would have if we were eating on the patio, which was more welcome than I could contemplate.  Danny asked if I wanted to see something he’d found while I was resting that he’d left in his room, but Dad asked if I could spare a moment for him first.  

“Of course,” winking at my little brother and telling him to go ahead to his room and I’d meet him there, I followed Dad into his hidden study.  Wishing for all the world that we didn’t have any need for hidden rooms and cloak and dagger nonsense, but Ropers will Roper.  “Do you want me to pour you an after dinner drink?”  

“No,” he held up his still full glass.  “I’m good.”  He gestured to the chair next to his and I sat, wondering what the latest dictate would be concerning Tom and his nursing duties.  “How are you feeling, honestly?”  

I considered what he was asking.  How did I feel?  Tired, still, but not nearly as ready to run headlong into the ocean.  That was progress.  “Better.  I think resting helped.”  He nodded.  “I’m taking Danny to the beach tomorrow.”  Another nod, but his mouth opened and I was certain he was going to remind me that lunch duties were still necessary.  

“Perhaps someone else could tend to Quince’s bandages,” he offered instead and I felt irritation crawl up my spine.  Someone else?  Who?  Jed?  “The doctor will be coming to remove the bridge holding his nose in place soon.  It can’t be that difficult to tend to his -” 

“I’ll check on him before we go out,” my mouth was saying before I even made the choice to say it.  “Then when we come back.”  Dad’s lips were curling into a smirk and I glared at him.  “What?”  

“Nothing.” He sat his glass down on the table in front of us and turned to me.  “I think that your idea is perfect.  Quince will no doubt find it far more pleasant than having Corky take over for you.”  

After saying goodnight to everyone and heading up to see what Danny had to show me - a piece of sea glass that had found its way onto our balcony - I made my way back to my room, after forcing a promise out of my little brother that he wouldn’t try waking me up before the sun rose.  

Keyed up from dinner among the entourage, the talk with my father, and then my decision to keep taking care of Tom - I felt that getting my bag ready for the beach might be a good way to relax before bed.  

It didn’t help.  So I drew a bubble bath and soaked.  And soaked.  And soaked.  It felt like my skin was vibrating and I had too much caffeine.  

Drying and dressing in another pajama set, I sat in front of my vanity mirror and studied my reflection - trying to see what Dad was alluding to when he said I drew attention like Jed.  Curly hair the color of the blackest ink, with the palest green eyes that anyone had ever seen - trust me, I’ve heard it my entire life - my skin stayed pale, until I got a sunburn that would terrify people to see (lobsters would be envious of the red) and then it would eventually darken to a nice golden tan.  Petite was the polite way to describe my height deficiency, short the cruel way.  That’s it, that’s what I could see staring back - well not the shortness, that was only noticeable when I stood next to a “normal” sized person.  

What did other people see when they looked at me?  A small curly, dark haired pale girl with big green eyes and - that’s it. That’s what they must see.  Right?  

Sighing, I worked my hair into a braid for bed.  Otherwise I’d end up with a bird/rat’s nest or a mouthful of it before morning.  Neither was something I’d care to deal with - again. The issue, I realized as I tied my braid off, was that I still wasn’t the slightest bit tired.  

Stepping out onto the balcony attached to my room, I glanced down at the pool and smiled when I noticed that Dad and Jed were there together - alone.  I couldn’t hear them, but I also couldn’t hear the normal noise of the rest of the group, so that might mean that I could go down to the kitchens for some cocoa or a snack without tripping over all of them.  

Grabbing my book, in case it took awhile to heat my drink, I left my room and started toward the kitchens - 

And ended up outside Tom’s room, where Sandy was sitting guard.  “Esme?” He barely breathed my name and didn’t get up from his chair.

Holding my finger to my lips, I smiled around it.  “Is he asleep?”  He shrugged and I fought rolling my eyes.  “I’m taking Danny to the beach tomorrow and I thought if I checked his bandages tonight -” Sandy looked convinced, but then confused by my lack of first aid supplies.  “I leave some inside by his bed.”  A convenient lie.  “They shouldn’t need changed, but -”

“Go ahead,” he nodded toward the door and yawned.  “Not like he’s going anywhere.”  

“Exactly.”  I agreed, moving to the door and knocking gently before opening it.  The mosquito netting, mostly for decoration, fluttered in the breeze of the open window of the balcony and I wondered who left it open?  “Tom?”  He was lying prone, but I could see him move in the light offered from the starry, moon bright night.  “It’s just me, Esme.”  

“Esme?”  His voice was rough, and I thought he might be half asleep.  “Ah, a dream,” he murmured, and twitched again - the linens moving lower off his legs.  

I bit my lip, wondering if he thought I was a dream or if he was flirting again.  Setting my book on the chair by his bed, I stared down at him and realized that he wasn’t awake, not fully anyway.  “Tom, could you -” I leaned over to try to wake him up, but I truly didn’t realize his strength, not even in his battered state.  With a tug he had me on the bed with him, his hands sliding up my sides, and then both hands were cupping my face and pulling it toward his own.  “Thomas, I think you should wake up,” I murmured, my legs were tangled with his and I was afraid I was going to injure him more.  

“If I wake up,” his breath was fanning my face, warm and spellbinding, making my stomach twist in a new delicious way.  “Then you’ll disappear and I can’t do this.”  One of his hands moved to cup the back of my head and the other went on a journey down the length of me, as his lips managed, even with the bridge and bandaged nose in the way, to finally touch mine.  His tongue dipped into my mouth when I gasped and I forgot what I was arguing with him about - why was I against this again?  And then he rolled over and we both remembered when he hissed in pain.  Right, invalid -  “Esme?”  He was squinting down at me, awake now, fully.  

I was burning, far hotter than the blush had been during the day, and this time it was EVERYWHERE.  And I was panting harder than either of us had been before too.  All I could manage to do was nod.  At least until I caught my breath again.  “Yes, it’s me.”  

“How did you end up -” He was hovering over me, his arms like a cage around me, while he tried to make sense of it.  “Did I -”

“You were having a dream,” I said.  “A vivid one.”  

“I -”  He didn’t seem to know what to do.  “Are you alright?”  

I nodded again.  Aside from feeling like I’ve been lit on fire, and the fact that there are parts of me that are literally a puddle - Yes, I’m fine.  “I’m fine.”  He didn’t move and I could tell why, it was pressed into the puddled part of me and it was making thinking pretty difficult for me too.  “I should have waited until morning.”  

“No,” he shook his head.  “No, don’t - it’s fine.”  We were stuck, but he was trying to convince me it was fine.  Of course, so was I.  “Why did you come tonight?”  Right, why was I here now?  

“I’m taking Danny to the beach tomorrow,” mentioning my little brother helped the part of him that was somewhat turgid start to relax slightly.  “I thought I’d check your bandages tonight.”  I started out strong, but it sounded lame even to me toward the end.  “I planned on coming in the morning as well.”  

“I see,” he wasn’t moving, even though he wasn’t in the same predicament as he had been.  “And while I was sleeping seemed a good time to check my bandages because?”  Fuck.  

“I couldn’t sleep.”  Verbal diarrhea.  I’ve come down with a horrible case of verbal diarrhea.  “I was coming down to get some cocoa and -”

“Ended up in my room instead.” Tom wasn’t being as careful with how he was hovering now, his rigidness might have gone slightly soft, but he let his hips settle into the softness of mine, and my body was more than willing to accommodate him. His fingertips were tracing the lines of my face, teasing my lips as I spoke.  “And somehow, we ended up like this -” he didn’t have to gesture or look down, I knew precisely what he meant.  

“You were having a dream.” I reminded him.  “About me.”  

“I know,” he leaned in and this time when he kissed me, we were both awake.  His lips were surprisingly soft for the beating he’d taken, and he grew bolder when he realized I was a willing participant, nipping at my fuller lower lip.  He pulled away when he noticed I wasn’t touching him.  “Esme?”  My eyes opened and he smiled.  “Touch me?  I won’t break, and I trust you.”  

My hands obeyed before I really considered his words, and his mouth met mine, my fingers sliding under his shirt and along the bandage I’d wrapped around his chest.   Thinking that lower might be more interesting for both of us, I dipped beneath the waistband of his shorts and swallowed the growl that he fed me.  He rocked his hips into mine and I licked into his mouth as I felt the resurgence of his hardness, my legs wrapping around his and arching up into him.  He drug his mouth free from mine, the bandage, tape and bridge digging into my skin and wrecking havoc on my skin - not in a fun way.  Sighing, he pulled away.  

“I want you,” I nodded up at him, how badly I wanted him right back.  “But you’re going to wear tape burns if we continue right now.”  The laughter built in both of us and bubbled over, causing him to lie back on the bed, and hold open his arms for me to lay against his shoulder, still careful of his more tender parts.  “Will you stay the night with me?”  

“I’m not sure that’s a good idea,” Sandy was outside and while he might doze off, the idea of Corky finding me in Tom’s bed wasn’t something I wanted to experience on our first night together.  “I want to,” he’d gone still and silent again.  “I do, but I don’t want you to get harmed further because of me, do you understand?”  

I could feel him brush a kiss on the crown of my head, through my curls.  “I do.  I don’t like it, but I do.”  His arm that was wrapped around my back holding me to his side tightened.  “Can I hold you for a while at least?”  

“I’ll allow it,” I curled against him, breathing in the scent of his neck, and sadly the scent of the salve I’d slathered on him.  I laid in his arms until his breathing evened out and his arm relaxed.  Then I slipped away, grabbing my book and slipping out.

“How were his bandages?”  Sandy asked, looking no more awake than he had when I went inside.  

“Not too bad,” I offered with a smile.  “I’ll check in again in the morning.  I’m going to the kitchens for some cocoa, want something?”  

“Coffee?”  Nodding, I promised I’d get him a cup and headed to my original destination.  Grabbing two cups, one fully caffeinated and one of herbal tea instead of the chocolate.  I needed sleep, not more excitement.  And after Tom’s touch, I think warm tea would be a better option than sugar.  

I dropped Sandy’s coffee off and headed to my room.  Once inside, I sat down at my vanity again, to check my braid and nearly screamed.  Hoping that Sandy was too tired to have noticed or that it was too dark in the hallway - Tom hadn’t been wrong about the tape.  There on the side of my cheek, where he’d started to nip and move down, I had a huge mark that proved I’d done more in his room than just check on his bandages.  Grabbing everything I could think of to remove it, should it be removable, I tried - but no.  It was a scratch, and the closer I looked the more I wanted to smack my head against something.  It wasn’t just the tape, I think it came from the bridge, it was the same shape and size.  And - Closing my eyes, I gave up for the night.  Maybe when I woke up I’d come up with a fix, or maybe it was because I was so damn tired.  That’s it, I was sleepy and so it looked worse than it was.  Right? 

[andrevasims]

Surfer Dude Names

I was looking to name a sim inspired by the archetypal beach-goer with wavy sunbleached hair who looks like they say “dude” every 5 seconds, you know the type... anyways I wasn’t really finding what I wanted, so I ended up making this list by taking names that stuck out to me from movies about surfing, and the Beach Party movie genre because apparently that was a thing... there’s also a bunch of real-life professional surfer names, soooo yeah

1960s Beach Party Movie Names

Augie Poole Beard Biff Big Deal McPherson Big Drag Big Drop Big Jaw Harris Big Lunk Bobbi Bonehead Boots Brie Matthews Bronson Bullets Buster Butch Cappy Charlie Bigg Chase Colton Chauncey Chuck Phillips Clod Craig Gamble Deadhead Eric Von Zipper Fleegle Flex Martian Frank Decker Frankie Freddie Carter Gidget Hastings Hot Shot Hulk Jack Fanny Jilda Junior Griffith Ken Lili Morton Lily Kilua Lorelei Luree Mikki Milo Talbot Moondoggie Myrtle Forbush Nita Elksberg North Dakota Pete Peter Royce Bentley / The Potato Bug Piccola Reginald Ripper Riff Rock Skeet Wells Sniffles Socum Sonny Leander Fox South Dakota Slim Steamer Lane Stinky Sugar Kane Sulk Swag Sylvia Dempster Terry Wells Tug Vikki Vivian Clements

1980s Surfing Movie Names

Ames Ashby Bodhi Brock Bunker Chandler Chuck Dede Eesh Geri Grommet Gut Gut Hog Hunter Jocko O'Finlay Johnny Big Head Johnny Utah Lance Burkhart Menlo Schwartzer Nelson Rag Rick Kane Roach Rosie Rounder Rush Scotty Palmer Slick Sparkle Tone Turtle Tyler Endicott Warchild Wyatt

2000s Surfing Movie Names

Cody Maverick Donnie Drake Landon Frosty Hesson Lake Nudie Philaine Pushy Reggie Belafonte Sid Sonny Tank Evans Thunder Monkey Topper Burks Zeke Topanga

Professional Surfers

Allen Holder Andy Irons Balaram Stack Barron Mamiya Bonga Perkins Bruce Brown Bunker Spreckels Butch Van Artsdalen Buzzy Kerbox Buzzy Trent CJ Hobgood Cheyne Magnusson Chris Hawk Cliff Kapono Coco Ho Corky Carroll Courtney Conlogue Dale Velzy Darrick Doerner Dave Kalama Dax McGill Dewey Weber Duane DeSoto Duke Kahanamoku Eddie Aikau Frieda Zamba Greg Cipes Griffin Colapinto Jake Caster Jesse Billauer John John Florence Kanoa Igarashi Keala Kennelly Keani Reiner Keanu Asing Kelly Slater Kolohe Andino Lakey Peterson Lani Doherty LeRoy Grannis Lemon "Rusty" Wond Holt Lexi VonderLieth Lokelani McMichael Makua Rothman Margo Oberg Mark Massara Megan Abubo Miki Dora Montgomery Kaluhiokalani Owl Chapman Paul Roach Pete Cabrinha Quincy Davis Rabbit Kekai Randy Laine Rell Sunn Robert August Rolf Aurness Rusty Keaulana Sage Erickson Sanoe Lake Shane Beschen Skip Frye Sunny Garcia Taylor Knox Tia Blanco Veronica Kay

[hashtag-yoloswaggins]

RITO RANT

ALRIGHT LETS CRUNCH SOME NUMERS. Champions that now have 10 skins: Miss Fortune, Twisted Fate, Alistar, Annie, Ezreal, Ryze Champions that have 9 skins: Tristana, Veigar, Mundo, Gragas, Jax, Katarina, Kayle, Kog'maw, Renekton, Teemo, Tryndamere Champions that now have 8 skins: Ahri, Akali, Amumu, Ashe, Blitzcrank, Caitlyn, Corki, Fiddlesticks, Gangplank, Garen, Lee Sin, Morgana, Nidalee, Pantheon, Riven, Singed, Sivir, Twitch, Warwick Champions that have not gotten a skin in at LEAST 2 YEARS and have less than 8 skins: Viktor, last skin: Creator (2013) Illaoi, last skin: Void Bringer (GARBO)(2015) Rek'sai, last skin: Pool Party (2015) Rengar, last skin: SSW (2015) Rumble, last skin: Super Galaxy (2014) Swain, last skin: Tyrant (2012) Urgot, last skin: Battlecast (2012) Yorick, last skin: Pentakill (2011) Cassiopeia, last skin: Jade Fang (2013) Aatrox, last skin: Sea Hunter (2015) Cho'gath, last skin: Prehistoric (2015) Evelynn, last skin: Safecracker (2014) Galio, last skin: Debonair (2015) Heimerdinger, last skin: Hazmat (2014) Irelia, last skin: Order of the Lotus (2015) Jarvan IV, last skin: Fnatic (2014) Kassadin, last skin: Cosmic Reaver (2015) Malphite, last skin: Ironside (GARBO)(2015) Mordekaiser, last skin: King of Clubs (GARBO)(2015) Nunu, last skin: Zombie Nunu (2015) Rammus, last skin: Guardian of the Sands (2015) Shaco, last skin: Wild Card (2015) Shen, last skin: TPA (2013) Skarner, last skin: Guardian of the Sands (2015) Udyr, last skin: Definitely Not (2015) Vladimir, last skin: Academy (GARBO)(2015) Xerath, last skin: Guardian of the Sands (2015) Zilean, last skin: Blood Moon (2015)

[gaminghardware0]

League of Legends dev teases some summer-ready Pool Party Champion skins

Earlier this year Riot Games shared previews of skins on the way for some "underserved" League of League Champions. These included an Astronaut skin for Bard, Pulsefire Pantheon, and a Pool Party look for Taliyah. Now, the dev's posted a new tease (via Dot Esports) in the form a clip showing a bunch of Champs chilling out on the beach, dipping their legs into the bright blue sea - but it's just their legs we can see. So, it looks like we'll have to try and guess who might be in for some Pool Party skins this year.

First up, there's clearly a pair of furry, orange, flip-flop clad feet enjoying the sunshine, which points to one of LoL's Yordle Champs. It's not clear exactly which one, but given Ziggs already has a Pool Party skin, that probably rules one out at least, leaving 12 others.

There's a pair of yellow goggles perched on the sand just next to the mystery Champ which could be a clue - perhaps it's Teemo, Corki, or even Heimerdinger in for the skin, as they each wear goggles with their regular skins. Hmm.

View the full site

RELATED LINKS: Best LoL Champions , League of Legends patch 10.12, LoL tier list from https://www.pcgamesn.com/league-of-legends/lol-pool-party-skins-2020

[aholsniffsglue]

@josebluejeans (JOSE EL REY, POOL PARTY, MIAMI BASS WARRIORS, CORKY, GETBACK, CRUMBS, PINKAI...) #LIVE FROM THE INTERNET AT 10:30AM ON @nickcounty LIVE TODAY (less than 1 hour) https://www.instagram.com/p/B_uonEglo11/?igshid=tmoi1ciyj5vg

[ratherhavetheblues]

ABBAS KIAROSTAMI’S TEN “Alright…”

© 2017 by James Clark

   Ten (2002) begins with a mother and her pre-adolescent son moving along the streets of Tehran in her car. Although a vicious, lacerating dispute takes place, which has an effect similar to stunning seasickness, we should, for the sake of the lucidity to be found in that stifling cabin cruiser (always seen from the inside) and the subsequent episodes of patrolling those roads, stand back, for a bit, from the opening emotional blood-letting and let ourselves be delighted by Corky, the LA cabby, and her fare, Victoria, the Hollywood talent scout, in the first episode of Jim Jarmusch’s Night on Earth (1991). The foul-mouth boy is a sort of talent scout, scouting the prospect of inducing his open-road mother to play the part of a stay-at-home-mom in a story made to garner acclaim from those demanding dutiful piety. The philosophical driver, like Corky, runs over the crock that rigid matrimony (like rigid fame) constitutes; and she lives to drive another day, and many other days.

    Whereas Victoria sees Corky’s point and wishes her well on her rocky road, Amin, the Tehran passenger—like the Idi Amin—discloses a vein of resentment toward interpersonal complication which, though aberrant, is also intrinsic. As such, Ten comprises a multi-faceted dialogue on the subject which could be termed, “How far do you want to investigate the phenomenon of love?” The first episode, labelled “10,” as affixed to the driver’s other drives which the film provides over a quite short period counting down to “1,” could be seen as a vividly dramatic study of the fallout of a divorce. (We learn, from the two major battles along that kinetic way, that the divorce occurred seven years ago, she has remarried, but her first husband—whom we see on several occasions, but always in a white jeep [evoking a UN bureaucratic Peace-Keeper, devoutly rule-driven, obsessed with an antiquated utopian end of strife]—an avid porn connoisseur, is less than able to contribute to putting together a serious support for his son; but that he has, in occasional contacts, become a factor nevertheless in inculcating Amin to a dogmatic primitiveness [linked to unpaid “activist” causes] which the driver had overcome. During the verbal brawl, she insists. “You’re like your father. He shut me away, destroyed me. He wanted me only for himself.” [At which point the clever primitive gives her a dagger-like sideways glance and commands, “Not so loud! Not so loud or I won’t listen to you…”] The skirmish turns to her demand, “I’ll say what I have to say” and his “I don’t want to listen” and cupping his ears.) However, as we look closely at the negotiations in the sanctuary of her smoothly-running vehicle, we realize that though Amin, true to his name, is a vicious, implacable thug, his mother (never named and thereby approximating an anonymity at the heart of her actions) is caught up in making an effort, an effort which has been repeated many times, to enlighten her son about the paradox of caring for a flesh-and-blood loved-one while belonging to something more. Episode 10, therefore, shows her (penultimate) folly in supposing a creature of Amin’s age and pathology would ever attain to anything resembling effective reflection.

   The driver, as we first encounter her new bid for mutual understanding in a deadened history, repeats the parable of a friend’s parents dragging themselves into hate and enfeeblement when a divorce would have given them a new lease on life. “I’m talking to you, let me finish. When I talk, you raise your voice…”/ ‘So what?” (Amin’s brush-offs are supplemented by arrogant, menacing and insulting visages and bodily attitudes, including an often seen rippling touch to his mouth as he heckles a deadly enemy.) “It’s impolite. Let me finish and you’ll understand” [the cosmic, not domestic situation]. You listen to everyone but you  refuse to listen to your own mother.”/ “Because you’re going to lecture me again. You always have to talk…” As we shall soon discover from the following encounters, the lady does bring to us an absorbing skill in silence and reticence. Accordingly, her next step in that trap she hasn’t fully figured out is to promise only two more sentences (“and I’ll shut up… never speak again…”). “I feel fulfilled now, like a flowing river. I was a stagnant pond. My brain was devastated.” The hardened midget (with a trace of a black moustache) shoots out, “That makes three sentences, and they’re all rubbish! I’ll never listen to you again!” The pact of silence now in shreds, there obtains a rapid-fire exchange, going nowhere. Picking up her dynamic priority as challenging Neanderthal stasis and old-time-family style, he sneers, “You only thought of yourself.” She fires back, “If you love yourself, you love someone else…” / “Enough! You talk too much!” the anointed thought-controller megaphones. She accurately posits, “You want me for yourself.” He declares, “I don’t want you to be mine! You screwed up… You stupid cow!” Once again, concluding much more than a family conflict, she drops him off at the swimming pool by saying, “A man who doesn’t love himself loves no one.” (Before that, she has broadcast to us, not him, “No one belongs to anyone. Not even you… You’re my child but you’re not mine. You belong to this world. We try to live here.” He cannily reconfigures the big picture to retail a comfortable little picture. “I have to grow up to attain an age that will allow me to belong to myself… You left. You crossed to the other side…”)

    As he leaves the ride, with the expected, “You stupid idiot… I’ve never seen anyone so stupid…” his domain—he on camera the whole passage—we see her for the first time emerging from the fringes, a figure of physical attractiveness, gentleness, deftness and confidence. Those gifts are on fascinating display for the remainder of the film. Although the outset might suggest she’s just a parent ferrying her child, we come to realize that the car and its motions are her real home, only incidentally playing host to a relative in the process of being a stupid idiot she used to know. With Amin snarling about the stepfather who does a lot more than the imam he calls dad, she quietly maintains, “But in any case he’s my friend and a good [though sometime] companion.” Make no mistake, though her sensibility is tolerant, generous, witty and incisive, she is an ultimate loner. Cutting from the one you’d hope would drown, she’s calmly in cruising mode (Jonathan Glazer’s Under the Skin [2013] probably owing something to it). But once again a relative, her sister, is on camera first. This latter passenger, though not flashing murderous glances, is disconcertingly anxious and depressed—pulling at her cheeks, fidgeting with a paper fan and casting crisis-level eyes to the streets as if she were riding in a tumbril. She’s in grey and black all round, making a sharp contrast to her driver-sister’s decorative scarlet robe and creamy-toned scarf, not to mention (as in the previous episode) chic Ray-Bans. The protagonist enters the car with a large bag of fruit, not exactly a bacchanal but putting us on notice that, as with Kiarostami, the Ayatollahs could be largely ignored and circumvented. The gloomy one pronounces, “6000 Tomas wasted…” But after a spate with Amin, the protagonist has come to a party mode no one’s going to spoil. Rather than trying to lighten up her sister, she, in the first of many gracious inventions in face of bad behavior, appeals to her theological, breaking-bread leanings. “It’s for the guests” [soon we learn that the home-alone friend is having a 39th birthday party]. The ascetic arm of the family sniffs, “I give classes every day. I have a job…” [in connection to which her young child has to be brought to the workplace]. (During a later incident with Amin, we hear that the protagonist needs a lot of time for her photography and painting. Kiarostami was a photographer and painter of some renown and cash-flow. The upshot of our free-spirit’s convening such difficult transactions is an assurance that when she gets down to her métiers sparks will fly.) The protagonist’s job being something seen by the stodgy wing of her family as a pseudo-occupation, the contrarian ne plus ultra proceeds to offer up a sensibility, while cruising those streets night and day, to bring up to speed the superior products of her investigative craft. Now, if not a laughing matter, at least a broadly smiling matter, she quips, “He won’t accuse you of abandoning him at playschool.” On a roll and rolling her funereal sister for what might pop out, she moots, “Today, children accuse parents of all kinds of things…” The leaden one states the obvious, “They’re wrong to. I mean parents can’t kill themselves…” The driver hits two notes at once by calling out, “Ah, is this a dead end?” The practical one informs, “A day-nursery isn’t always a good thing…But for age 3, especially for an only child, it’s ideal…” More tiny news for the bemused: “You know what’s wrong with Amin, sis? Amin convinces himself he’s unhappy…” She, having already seen the end-game, despite the need to marvel that sanity is beyond most earthlings, hears from the worrier, “Leave him be, let him go to his father’s to get to know him better. Don’t fool yourself…” Cueing up, where this countdown will lead, the driver seems to be at a (temporary?) loss with the devastation which her career entails. “I don’t know…” Then the perceived expert ushers the crisis along. “You grow fond of what you love.”/ “That’s right. I can’t deny it” [and she can’t deny that this is a tough terrain to cover]. Therefore, we’ve had a taste of something better than birthday cake, namely, a sort of Socratic dialogue; but unlike Socrates/ Plato the stakes are truly problematic, giving rise to endless inquiries and adjustments. The driver’s statement, “I’m waiting for him to realize that,” is sheer dark comedy. On the heels of that impasse, we receive the more farcical exit as she turns back to the traffic in the street and the traffic in the universe. “Look at that guy! What an idiot!”

   Down to story 8, she initially appears to us at ease in being silent and mobile and going along the prayer zone in a gown with a darker, black and gold design. (In the previous episodes she was wearing shades; in the rendezvous with Amin, a dark-red gown; in the soon-to-come being rid of him, a much brighter red gown and jade rings.) She stops to give a ride to an elderly woman, bent over and laboring, but with a resolve in her bearing which galvanizes our protagonist. “I’ll be like her one day,’ she says to herself with a cheery tone. She asks the lady, “Is this a dead-end?” And she’s shown in a roundabout way the path to the mausoleum/ prayer-room leaving open how beyond a dead-end this is. On first being seated, the passenger intones, “May God protect you,” the first of a stream of pious declarations. The driver affords this licence a patient and encouraging cordiality, seeking to find there a magical boost. “May He save us from all our worries…” follows quickly. Our guide for the duration is taken up with driving, not heart-to-heart troubles. “I’m lost. I don’t know this way…” Keeping a light tone, the ancient rattles off, “Well don’t go down here, it leads nowhere!” Now on the straight and narrow, the passenger delineates details of her, if not exuberant, prolific strivings. “I go in the morning, mid-day and sunset… I pray for the boys and girls… I pray for old ladies and men…” We know by now that Amin’s mother has large misgivings about such heavy zeal; and this episode wonderfully sets in relief the taste for gentle irony with which she hits the road. “You only go there to pray?”/ “I pray there and elsewhere.”/ “Are your wishes granted?”/ “God alone grants wishes. My prayers don’t need that [that is to say, the bid for union suffices beyond being rescued from death]. My husband is dead. My 12-year-old son, too… That’s why I pray [offsetting the calculus of loss]. I also sold my home to go to a pilgrimage in Syria…”

   From a secular perspective, inattentive to the zealot’s heretical grace, she’s lost; and our protagonist is in the forefront of secularity. Nevertheless, our poised talent scout accentuates the possibility of calculative cowardice being shattered by the sheer visceral flare-ups of the ancient’s recognition that an elusive balance is worth going for broke. “I’ve known great misfortune. But I gave everything I owned.” The eccentric mom praises the stranger’s “pretty rosary” and endures the loopiness of the banal brio she’s hearing. She can’t, however, be indifferent to features of the saga like a daughter’s stomach tumor and being afraid of the upcoming operation. She can see the desperate egotism in factors like, “I swear on the Imam Reza, I gave away the mattresses…” and yet the very hopelessness of this distemper (like the poison of her own son) touches her as endlessly significant. She enthuses with her guest, “Very good! The fewer ties you have the better you live.” The simple soul offers to car-sit while the sort of soulmate goes to pray. “No thank you. I have a lot to do…” is the way their paths diverge forever.

   Step 7, on the way to a blast-off of sorts, finds her at the wheel, beaming with the irony that, while cruising late at night on a hooker trail, she was mistaken for a John and invaded by a cynical entity; but, once again, a slice of something she wants to grasp. The poor vision of the “night worker” (in the parlance of The Wind Will Carry Us) traces straight to Corky’s Paris colleague in part 3 of Night on Earth, who, after losing his temper and throwing out a couple of delusional drunks in the night, gets hailed by a blind and Amin-like vicious, arrogant fare. “Stop here, I’m getting out,” the embarrassed pro demands. The driver, not surprisingly, answers, “I’m interested in talking with you…” In a sleepy voice, the reluctant conversationalist replies, once again (bringing to mind the blinded French stone wall), “Stop here, I’m getting out!” But when our protagonist takes special interest in being mistaken for a man, the night person gives out some inkling that she’s not totally benighted. She gleefully shrieks with the pitfall, again demands the ride end and the near-cabby promises, “A bit further on” [hoping that the cradle-dynamics of the drive and the volcano of that scream will produce some seismic information]. “I saw you come out of that Mercedes…” she hopefully cues some pop. First, the passenger draws the wall, “I’m going nowhere…Let me off!” But our guide is an ardent provocateur and hits pay dirt of sorts with, “Why do you do this?” After Amin-like bluster— “Give me a break… You want to lecture me?”—the wild card can’t resist declaiming, “An honest job, a decent job!” More squeals ensue. Then she feels a little needle: “It’s interesting… a girl like you [with aspirations I want to hear about]. Pretend that you’re a man…” She quickly insists, “I’m not working in that field yet!” Having seen a glimpse of her bourgeois self-justification, the protagonist persists, “No, really… What’s the reason you do this?” This elicits the hooker’s being hooked on two incompatible motives—the volatility of which perhaps leading somewhere for her own, far more comprehensive, study; and even more to the point, her ongoing bounce against the carnality of everyone she meets (a hooker’s body-contact being a dash of physicality with much on the ball). “Sex, Love, Sex” the captive blurts out. “That’s all life is?” the traveller, setting the horizon to be engaged, moots. “It’s a trade, it’s my job. And I like it [moreover]. What’s this ‘interesting?’” She goes on, from that confrontational stance, to assure the driver, “I’m not going to cry… It’s life or it’s destiny” [brutal zoology or subversive mysticism]. The driver assures her she’s not going to lecture. “I’m interested in your experience, what you feel, your sensations…” “What sensations?” she replies with some anger. “Don’t you think about sin and guilt” is the night-shift’s way of discerning how wild is the wild one (who, by then, has taken off her shoes to ease the pain of walking in shoes not made for walking). Though the passenger insists, “That was a stupid thing to say… Why don’t you try it yourself?” she shifts, by way of finding out that the near-cabby is married, into a screed about all men being traitors. “He says, ‘I love you,’ doesn’t he?” Her clients often say that when their wife calls, duped that he’s at the other office. This is where the flight hits real turbulence, the driver not apt to be greatly preoccupied with the low-key ways of her “friend and good companion.” The shoeless and rather clueless street walker even dovetails with Amin and that totally blind angry rider in Night on Earth: “You’re an idiot and I’m smart.” She purports to have no affection for any of her clients, nor anyone else. There is one more step to take and the protagonist takes it when inferring that her rough trade in the days before wholesaling touched her indelibly. “To wake up thinking about him! We were engaged. I was a fool.” The night may not have yielded any new talent; it did spotlight her close to frightening disinterestedness.

   Corky was induced, by the talent-scout, to admit she’d love to have children, that she has an ardent dream centered upon domesticity.  But her certainty about the perfidy of the male talent pool left us seeing her as a free spirit somewhat by default. The protagonist of our tale here clearly puts freedom first and evinces a highly eccentric but potentially fertile way of extending her powers, including interpersonal powers. The remainder of the snippet given to us largely pertains to ditching the monster from her craft. Accordingly, it sustains the sense of coping more effectively (which is far from coping more easily) in face of the impasses every ride must endure. Therefore, to deploy the motif of the protagonist’s vibrancy in a sharp light we’ll dip into the number four junket, where, in an atmosphere of very spare light, a woman relentlessly laments a man’s leaving her, with the kind of addictive melancholy seen in the last (Helsinki) phase of Night on Earth, where a taxi driver vies with his customers to be the saddest person on earth. Just as the error of the hooker’s drawing a blank with a badly recognized woman, the welcome of a dead loss might seem one of those bad days; but our guide of things mysterious proves to be a versatile and agile discoverer of what she needs to press forward the big picture. Knowing from the top there’ll be no sparkle in this outing, the driver runs past the veil of tears that structure of equiprimordial connection and aloneness. “You’re weak, very weak,” is her bid to snap her into some semblance of adult responsiveness. (She bemusingly adopts Amin’s phrases, “Give it a rest, so we can eat in peace” [giving us to understand that the passenger is not a one-off but a long-term piece of work].) The protagonist in a tight spot realizes she has misplayed this engagement and strikes a far more primordial, disinterested note. “We women are unhappy. We don’t love ourselves… You can’t sum it up in just one person. Life is so vast. Why depend on just one person?” “Why not?” the weak one blubbers—Jarmusch’s “jerking off” very much in play, with its hopeless cases and vast wastelands. Even here there is a moment of dark mirth: “Why not [the dead weight argues] be different?” [as if hopeless losers are few and far between]. The talent scout’s parting declaration, “You can’t live without losing. We come into the world for that” [dodging black holes like her], is entirely addressed to herself and her being on the spot to deal mercilessly with the poisonous while being warmly on the trail for hearts with some gold.

   Another friend turns up, by day, this time—in hurdles 6 and 2—and our protagonist, unlike her keeping her distance from the theology of the old lady, dresses to seem ready to coincide with the pious passenger from her own generation. Perhaps struck briefly again by the pathos of that elder’s personal best, she opens the conversation with, “You come to the mausoleum, too?” After rather self-consciously tossing back-and-forth the vagaries of religious garb, the ascetic (in vast contrast to the divorcer of Amin with her chic upbeat and intrinsic warmth), strained, though gentle friend, of quite recent vintage, asserts that her pattern is once or twice a week. “I’m used to it…” Holding to irony as if a vitamin pill, the driver, only apparently onside, avers. “It hasn’t become a habit with me…” Then, being very devious by necessity, there is, “I never imagined I’d come to a mausoleum to pray.” The questioner discovers that though the promising friend (more promising than now) at first did not subscribe she does now, “to a certain extent… Actually, it soothes me.” At this, the driver gives her a wan smile and quips, “Anyhow, I haven’t found peace of mind, yet [neither, of course, in immortality, nor in a largesse in becoming extinct]. One day, maybe, who knows?” Showing very well that words can produce more assurance of being on the same page than they really mean, the religionist maintains, “I’ve been coming here for ages and I still haven’t had anything.” “Perhaps it’s a big wish… Too big…” is the secular learner’s way of getting on an open road where they can get down to business. This cut-off, however, immediately ends in a ditch. “It’s not a very big wish…” This is so because for the seeming or hope-to-be adventurer, all she was serious about was her on-again/ off-again marriage engagement. “I come here to pray to make it come true… I think he’s full of contradictions.” In one of those deft touches of street navigation landing in the face of a lousy navigator in a much wider sense, the driver shouts out, “How can I get by if you just stand there?” After a pause where the passengers of a wayward vehicle make rude gestures, she adds (to the jerks outside and the jerk inside), “And you think it’s funny? What an idiot!” Right about here, our guide has to be digging down to put natural motion into the “just stand there.” She takes up with her friend, notwithstanding, the “contradictions,” (and potential syntheses) of the case. The eligible one moots the factor of “fate” in all this. Taking another run at the stand-still, the driver takes liberties with the facts in claiming that she tells her son about fate, “come what may…” (yet she’s a paragon of radical resolve, too vigorous for her surround). “He says he doesn’t understand fate [a phenomenon with a purchase on freedom]. He just can’t accept it” [he truly doesn’t accept freedom per se]. “What’s his problem?” the dutiful domestic asks, no doubt providing a stiff shot of dark mirth. She improvises on that theme of absurdity. “He has no particular problem. Or maybe he does….” In this vein of tough roiling, she sketches out the bare bones of the count-down. “I divorced. One day he no longer wanted to live with me. And he left. He tells me I’m a bad mother. Mainly he couldn’t stand the atmosphere at home anymore” [the essences of “atmosphere” being a remarkable imbroglio for a film to tackle]. She covers this nightmare with the albatross of piety to see if richly-held disaster can disperse a bottleneck. “The first time I came to the mausoleum that feeling all but faded away. For now, all I do is pray.” Like her plodding sister, the new (and equally disappointing) half-wit, leaves her with what she considers to be deeply valuable reorientation. “I used to say, ‘You pray to force God to give you things.’” “That’s interesting,” the very alone convenor of talent offers. “Don’t mention it,” the problem solver replies as she leaves the car. There is a quick cut to the next bid. What would have been her response to this dullness? In the subsequent plunge down to stage 2, the patient sentimentalist must now trouble shoot the situation of having been unequivocally abandoned for another woman. “He said it wouldn’t work.” She has shaved her hair in a gesture of being done with the mad passion and creativity which she couldn’t embrace; but also, now looking more unusual, reaching for a strangeness which could be right for her, if she were not so constitutionally drab. “I told him, “You’ll regret it some day…” [sounding quite Helsinki]. “Am I hideous?” she asks. “No, it suits you,” the driver insists (regarding her nun-like presence), being both loving and cruel. “I think I’ll soon get over it,” the teary survivor declares; and with that the research and the friendship is pretty much toast. She puts out there, for old-times sake, “That’s hard, isn’t it?” / “Yes, it’s hard… The hardest part for me is admitting that it’s hard [that putting together an enriching life is not the way she had been induced to suppose]. I’m ashamed of saying that it’s hard [her dependencies now in painful doubt]. Because I thought everything I liked would happen…” “I understand,” the road warrior assures. She smiles warmly and reports, more to herself, “You lose at times, unfortunately…”

   With a world heavily laced with the likes of Amin and his inspirations, dead-ends (farcical, appalling and hostile), “losses,” are the name of the game. The latter stages (5 and 1) where she finalizes the raging malignancy is more a tip-off of small mercies in a big picture than a family’s big deal in a little picture. So, when she greets Amin en route to “grandmother’s” day-care, she savors the irony of her ever being “weak” like the clinging vine of stage #4. “I don’t get a kiss?”/ “I don’t want to…” (She had played the same hand pretending to want to keep him for the evening, being denied by the UN dad and then, after realizing he could put his porn-dish and whatever else into play, being caught up with and told, “You can have him.”) This allows her to toy with what was once trouble. “Are you pleased to be staying with me tonight?” The reflexive “No” would roll off like rain on a duck. He commands, “When you come to pick me up from grandma’s don’t forget the tape of Hercules…” More cheeky marauding on his part follows, and her body language is a picture of aplomb. He brags about his new course of computing in school (for the new Hercules) and she, claiming to know a short-cut, annoys him in face of some of the improv she excels in. In retaliation, he mentions the sacred father’s “Satellite’ and the “very sexy scenes” in fact far more a laughing matter than a crying matter. She stops at the counsellor’s office and comes back with the predictable all-clear that the boy will be better off in the land of Hercules. She recites, “He’s a man. He has to grow up with a man” [a dutifully religious maniac as dictated by the regime]. “Man,” to Amin, being kicking ass, he rolls out a self-serving spiel of: pushing her to show fifth-gear macho; then he moots that the woman his father might eventually marry will be “better than you… She won’t be out all the time…” [“I get the message,” she pleasantly toys]; and brings up an old grievance, that she, the servant, was late for a pick-up. She pretends to be flustered and defensive. “I needed water for the battery” [the right fluidity]. His rant about, “She’ll do the dishes, cook good meals” [her response, “It’s good that life can be summed up [computed] in the stomach”], carries the phraseology of the dogmatist dad about to be history— “The problem is taking on responsibility at home.” She would love to be able to say, “I have more important things to do. A maid can do the housework;” and she does say that. Her “short cut,” instinctive ways getting on his nerves again, culminates with answering his tantrum and recriminations with a simple, “I was busy…” He snarls on reaching the drop-off, “Get lost! You’re lying!” And she calmly replies, “I’m a selfish person…” The very brief 1-spot, the last of the communiques to the man in white, the last of the demands, comprises, “Take me to grandma’s” and her kiss-off, a poised, “Alright,” poised for lots more trouble and windfalls. But now freed of some baggage she didn’t need at all.    

[notoriouslydevious]

Pool Party 2020 speculations:

Pool Party 2020 skins just got teased on League’s official Twitter and I have a couple speculations on who they might be! (other than the obvious on the far left, Taliyah, who was teased earlier this year). 

Far Right: Definitely Orianna. Not doubt in my mind. 

Some people on twitter are trying to say, “IT COULD BE CAMILLE” but think about Camille for a sec. EVERY OTHER SKIN SHE’S HAD ALWAYS KEEPS HER SCISSOR LEGS. THIS SKIN HAS FEETSIES & TOESIES! So yea, not Camille. 

Next person over: 

Definitely looks like a javelin or polearm next to them so my instant first guesses were: Jarvan or Xin Zhao. 

Next: 

Ah yes, the female in the middle. MANY, MANY people on twitter speculated that it was DEFINITELY going to be Syndra THIS TIME FOR SURE because: BALL. Thought it was weird that they’d only include one ball but it IS a teaser.  After watching the gif over and over, I noticed as this person kicks the sandal back over to the male character on their left, their ‘towel’ that they are laying on seems to be connected to their skirt. Syndra has trails connected to the back of her skirt so it might be her! 

Other people saw the ball and thought maybe it was Ahri (but no tails and I dont think Ahri has tattoos- but who knows?).  Others saw the tattoos on the legs and thought of: Jinx: (but Jinx recently got Heartseeker so I don’t think it’d be her) Karma: She does have the leg tattoos And with the ‘towel’ being connected to skirt/shorts- karma has a short skirt in the front, long in the back.  Karma also has one anklet.  ***BUT**** the skin is WAAAAAAY too light to be Karma. 

Neeko: Neeko DOES have tattoos and she does have an anklet (but she has them on both feet) BUUUUUUUUUUUT in all of Neeko’s other skins, her skin color is never “normal.” Like in Star Guardian, her feet & hands were green. 

Dont know why Riot would change this now but who knows? There’s no tail- but she is a chameleon and could be blending in? Also the flower on Taliyah’s board looks a lot like Neeko’s flower in her hair, but it might just be a tropical flower. Maybe Riot took the odyssey Ziggs approach and just threw her in the skinline without putting her in the cinematic/trailer lmao). 

Janna: (she did recently get guardian of the sands) the “towel” that the person is laying on, when they reach out to kick back the sandal it shows that it’s connected to their skirt/shorts. Janna is one of the only other female champs that their shorts/skirt have long trails on it. 

Next Person Over: 

It’s definitely someone small, so most likely a yordle. They seem to have sunglasses next to them that reminded me a lot of Heimerdinger’s and Corki’s goggles.

There’s also something in the water that (to me) looks like a little turret, like Donger’s turrets.  Other’s thought maybe it’s Corki’s plane or Rumble’s machine- but Rumble’s machine is HUGE- too huge to be that little thing. (To me, personally, it doesnt look like it has a good spot to sit or that it could be steered- so I dont think it’s Corki, but who knows?) 

Last Person: We already know it’s Taliyah from one of the League streams:

Welp, those are my thoughts. TELL ME WHO YOU THINK THEY COULD BE!

Hope this doesnt end up like the Cosmic skins lmao (rip Syndra/Lissandra/Elise. As pretty as Cosmic/Dark Cosmic Lux are, Syndra/Liss/Elise were robbed.)

[justjessame]

Sins of the Father: Chapter 3

I met Danny as he was coming out of the guest room that our invalid was in - grinning up at me over as I was weighed down with a tray laden with soup, bandages, and other paraphernalia that I’d need to act as his nurse - I shooed him away with a promise to go swimming with him when I was finished.  

Corky held the door open for me and started to follow me in, but I shrugged him off, rolling my eyes as his narrowed.  “Ever hear of HIPAA, Cork?”  He gave a long suffering sigh, but didn’t argue and I felt a small victory.  Hip checking the door behind me to shut it, I leaned against it for a beat to catch my breath and get my bearings.  I wasn’t really suited for this cloak and dagger crap.  

The room was as light and airy as all the others in our house.  I was gratified to see no one thought that our patient needed dark and dreary to heal.  The doctor had come earlier to change his IV drip, but he’d left instructions on the bandages that wrapped up the man’s face.  Clearing my throat to give him ample warning that I was in the room, I pushed off the door and started forward. 

“Hello?”  I didn’t raise my voice, thinking that with the facial injury- even with the IV drugs - his head must be fit to burst with pain.  “I’m Esme Roper, my father asked me to come bring your lunch and change your bandages.”  

He didn’t speak, but he twitched a bit toward my voice.  Moving closer still, I sighed when I noticed that the end table was cluttered and the chair had a bit on it as well.  Sitting the tray down at the end of the bed, I tossed what I could tell was trash into the bin and put what I couldn’t make sense out of the way, then moved the tray onto the table.  

“There, that’s better.”  I pushed the chair closer to the bed and leaned over him.  “Now, would you prefer your soup first, or your bandages to be changed before we attempt it?”  

I watched as his hand twitched.  The idea of showing weakness, even in his state, wasn't something he was comfortable with - interesting.  “I can hardly eat lying prone,” he murmured, his voice hardly a whisper. 

Fighting a grin, I nodded.  “Of course not,” I reached out and he flinched.  “I promise I won’t hurt you,” his gaze met mine and I saw a look of disbelief.  “Or at least I’ll try my damndest NOT to.”  With his help, I got him situated against the slatted headboard with a few pillows to cushion his back.  “There, see, isn’t that better?”  He’d hissed a few times, which made me think that his ruined face wasn’t nearly all that he was dealing with pain-wise.  “Now, soup or bandages?”  

He was studying me, eyes black-rimmed and staring.  “Soup.”  Another nod from me and I reached for the bowl and spoon.  “I can feed myself.”

“Yet I’ve been sent to do it for you,” I argued, not giving over either.  Dipping the spoon into the liquid, I lifted it carefully to his lips.  “Are you going to make me do the train in the tunnel?”  He chuckled despite himself and I slipped the spoon inside, catching him off-guard, but earning a bit of a twinkle in one swollen eye.  

He allowed me to feed him, and tease him while I did it.  Laughing a bit and even giving some back.  “They did a number on you, didn’t they?”  I asked, as I fed him the final bits of the soup.  “I do hope you gave some back to them, just a bit?”  He shook his head, but I didn’t know if that meant he hadn’t or that he didn’t quite know what to make of me.  “Thank you.” 

“For?” I was putting the bowl down and he didn’t see my hands shake at the idea of what MIGHT have happened to my little brother if he hadn’t taken the pounding he had to rescue him.  

“Saving Danny,” it came out quieter than I’d wanted, but he heard it.  I turned back to him with the bandaging scissors and the rest of my first aid supplies.  “If they did this to you, I can only imagine what they might have done to him.”  

He stopped me from beginning, one long fingered, elegant hand touching mine.  “I - I’m glad I did it.”  Swallowing down a lump that felt like a boulder, I nodded again.  “Do be gentle?”  

I smiled and raised the scissors.  A few clips and I removed the bandage that was most bloody, the one that wasn’t creating a bridge to keep his nose stable, and replaced it carefully with a fresh one, taping it in place with enough care that I hoped I wasn’t giving him more discomfort.  An odd thought, given how I’d felt when I learned of the task at first.  “Your ribs?”  He grimaced and I lowered the sheets to pull up his t-shirt.  “Did the doctor not offer you any sort of compression for them?”  They were a horrible shade that matched his eyes.  He gave a sort of shrug and I sighed.  

I was contemplating whether or not we had anything I could put together to make his ribs less of a painful mess when he broke through my thoughts.  “You were away at school?” 

“Yes,” I pulled down his shirt and tucked the sheet back in around him.  I’d have to look into ways to give battered ribs comfort online.  “I just graduated.”  

“Nursing?” I couldn’t hold back the laughter that bubbled over at that.  “Is that funny?”

Glancing up at him, propped up against the headboard with his poor face cushioned behind so much wrapping, I nodded again.  “Very.”  Leaving him alone on the bed, I fretted with the tray and cleaned up the mess of rebandaging him.  “Any nursing experience I have comes from a little brother whose curiosity exceeds the little voice in his head that might whisper that he shouldn’t try it.”  I bit my lip at the memories of all the bandaged wounds I’d done up on Danny.  “And the others who seem to get in scrapes as well -” my father’s hangers on, his security and his ‘friends’.  

“Seems odd then,” his tone was quiet, thoughtful and it drew my attention back to him.  He was squinting across the room, trying to make sense of something.  

“What seems odd?”  His eyes flashed to me, the equation he’d been so intent on working out broken.  

“You’re so handy to have close by,” he was matter of fact.  “Why send you away to school?” 

“Ah,” I finished gathering the trash and tossed it in the bin.  “Who said I was sent away?”  Tilting my head, I stared down at him.  “Perhaps, Mr. Quince?” His head dipped to assent to the name and I went on. “Perhaps I wanted to go away to school.  If you weren’t bedridden, you’d see that this isn’t some castle where the princess gets to run wild and free.”  He was back to studying me and I knew I was giving him more than Dad expected, but I wasn’t Jed.  I didn’t prefer to bare my body before I bare my soul.  “You only saw a party, a celebration with light and fun.  Full of people who were enjoying themselves before the terror set in.  It’s always there - those people, that noise, and -” 

He was still watching me, taking it in.  Not only my words, I could tell and I knew I’d said and shown more than enough.  

“You’re probably tired.”  Clearing my throat, I stepped close to the bed again.  “Let me help you lie down again.”  

Getting him prone, with his head slightly elevated, wasn’t as difficult as getting him sitting up.  I was turning to pick up the tray again when his hand wrapped around my wrist, stopping me.  

“Thank you,” I was moments from shrugging his gratitude off, but he didn’t allow it.  “Please, don’t.”  Staring down at him, I was surprised to see a vulnerability in his dark rimmed eyes.  “I mean it, thank you, Esme.”  

“You’re welcome,” it came out hushed, as if the very walls had ears.  Which they very well could, given our home.  He released my wrist and I picked up the tray, walking to the door and tapping on it with the edge.  Frisky opened it, clearly Corky had been irritated with me and left - forcing another to take his place.  “Thank you,” I sighed, as he grabbed the tray from me when I cleared the threshold.  “Just set it down and I’ll have -” but he shook his head.

“It’s alright, Esme.”  He assured me.  “Danny’s waiting for you to go for a dip in the pool.” His lips curled into a smile and I felt some of the tension start to leave me.  “Go and relax, you just got home.”

Glad someone remembered, I thought.  Heading toward my room, and wondering just what this Quince was going to add to the mess that was the Roper way of life.