#I guess cal is technically doing the best out of all of them but he still has been doing some dark side shit recently so…. | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

matildashoney · 4 years ago

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𝙸 𝙵𝚎𝚎𝚕 𝙰𝚕𝚒𝚟𝚎? // 𝙽𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚝 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝙳𝚊𝚢

𝙼𝙰𝚂𝚃𝙴𝚁𝙻𝙸𝚂𝚃 // 𝚃𝙰𝙶𝚂 // 𝙿𝙻𝙰𝚈𝙻𝙸𝚂𝚃 // 𝚃𝙰𝙶𝙻𝙸𝚂𝚃

𝚝𝚊𝚕𝚔 𝚝𝚘 𝚖𝚎 𝚊𝚋𝚘𝚞𝚝 𝚑𝚊𝚛𝚛𝚢 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚌𝚊𝚛𝚘𝚕𝚒𝚗𝚎 // 𝚜𝚞𝚙𝚙𝚘𝚛𝚝 𝚖𝚢 𝚠𝚛𝚒𝚝𝚒𝚗𝚐

𝙳𝙸𝚂𝙲𝙻𝙰𝙸𝙼𝙴𝚁: 𝙱𝙸𝙿𝙾𝙻𝙰𝚁 𝙳𝙸𝚂𝙾𝚁𝙳𝙴𝚁, 𝙰𝙽𝚇𝙸𝙴𝚃𝚈

𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚗𝚔 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚝𝚘 𝚖𝚢 𝚕𝚘𝚟𝚎𝚕𝚢 𝚏𝚛𝚒𝚎𝚗𝚍𝚜, 𝚎𝚜𝚙𝚎𝚌𝚒𝚊𝚕𝚕𝚢 @theharriediaries , @meetmymouth , @hunflowers 𝚊𝚗𝚍 @truckerhatharry 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚋𝚎𝚝𝚊-𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚌𝚑𝚊𝚙𝚝𝚎𝚛 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚕𝚒𝚜𝚝𝚎𝚗𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚝𝚘 𝚖𝚎 𝚝𝚊𝚕𝚔 𝚊𝚋𝚘𝚞𝚝 𝚑𝚊𝚛𝚛𝚢 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚌𝚊𝚛𝚘𝚕𝚒𝚗𝚎. 𝚒'𝚖 𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚎 𝚒𝚏 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚗𝚎𝚎𝚍 𝚊𝚗𝚢𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚐. 𝚒 𝚕𝚘𝚟𝚎 𝚢𝚘𝚞.

Harry’s jaw nearly breaks from how hard he’s clenching his teeth together, right now, trying desperately to control his emotions, his hormones, and his voice while he and Caroline have at it, yet again. Harry believes it to be a miracle that they get along nearly a third of the time, the other two-thirds very much consisting of petty arguments like the one that they’re having, right now. Outbursts like these are common in the Styles-Ryan Household, especially since they’ve not been apart for three weeks and four days – not that she is counting at all – and Harry is driving Caroline insane. More insane than she already is, according to her.

Harry hates when she says that, and yet, she does, every single day.

“Harry, you’re unbelievable!” Caroline says, smacking her hands against her bare thighs like a child in a tantrum and walking towards the edge of the bed where Harry’s ankles are crossed, where he is laying comfortably against their headboard, and taking his feet and throwing his legs off the side of the bed. Harry lays dramatically on his side, refusing to stand. “Get out of bed, Harry! I’m not letting you miss your bachelor party. That’s final.”

“Oh, that’s final?” Harry mimics, breathing out a laugh and shaking his head, crossing his arms over his chest and staring at Caroline through hooded lids, his nostrils flaring with his anger as she stands with his knees touching her thighs, her hands reaching for his and wiggling her fingers dramatically to try and grab his hands and pull him upright, at least. “Caroline, I don’t want to go, and you can’t make me. That’s what’s final.”

“God, you’re so difficult,” she huffs frustratedly, turning on her heel and walking towards their wardrobe, leaning over to take her platforms – that he loves on her body – and zip the backing on her heel. Clad in his favorite dress, she, along with their friends, have designed everything perfectly for the evening if he would just get up and get ready. Harry’s left Caroline with no choice, but to yank out the toxicity card – as Caroline likes to call it, Harry hates it, though. “Fine, Harry. If that’s what you want, stay home without me.”

“Hold on a second, Cal.” Harry narrows his eyes, knowing that Caroline isn’t quite finished. There’s no way she’s leaving the conversation alone this easily. Contrary to what she believes though, Harry would prefer not to argue about it, so he stands and walks over to her, kisses her cheek and smiles at her graciously. “Thank you.” Caroline looks at him with her pretty brown eyes and smiles, shrugging her shoulders and walking towards her vanity in the corner of the room, sitting on the bench and reaching for the tube of lipstick ready to be worn on her skin. “Are you still going, Callie? I thought–”

“Shakespeare, you’re the one having an issue. Obviously, it’s not me,” Caroline hums the interruption, shaking her head and patting the lipstick with her thumb to make sure that it’s perfectly marking her mouth. “Guess I’ll have to go by myself. Manic and all that. Ugh, that’s such a shame, too, isn’t it? Quite a shame that I have to go out, by myself, to a bar, with all our friends, and get drunk and dance without my fiancé because he’s being a baby about going out, tonight.”

“Callie,” Harry says warningly, shaking his head and gently squeezing her shoulder as he stands behind her in the mirror. “Quit it. Don’t say that when you know how it makes me feel. Cross that boundary and we’ll have a bigger argument on our hands.”

“Ugh!” Caroline groans and knocks her head against her neck dramatically, running her fingers through her hair and letting the curls cascade down her back, the singular braid where her part meets her scalp adding what she likes to call ‘character’ to her look for the evening. “Harry, I’m only saying these things because they’re true. Technically, the mania cycle has started. Technically, you’re being a child about going out. Technically, I’ll have to go and get drunk by myself because you won’t come with me. All the things I’ve said are true, whether you’d like to admit it or not.”

Harry knows that Caroline’s right, which infuriates him even more so. Caroline is right – as much as he hates to admit it – simply because of the fact that their argument technically began while in the shower together when Harry said that he wouldn’t be going out, tonight. Harry refused to discuss it further when Caroline stepped out and wrapped herself in her robe – the one that she loves so dearly that he bought her for the holidays – and she looked at him with wide eyes, as though he had grown three heads in the midst of their conversation. Caroline, technically, is right, but that doesn’t mean that the manipulation of saying things to get under Harry’s skin is any more right or just.

“Cal, you’re saying these things to get under my skin,” Harry says affirmatively, as though he knows without a shadow of a doubt – which he does – and his eyes narrow at Caroline in the mirror. “That’s not right. Tell me, what would Kate say if you said you were going out, tonight.”

“Kate agreed that it would be good for us to see somewhere other than the eight walls we see every day between the bookstore and our apartment.”

Of course, Kate said that, Harry wants to say. Kate doesn’t see you every day, she doesn’t know how scary it was to find you that day. Of course, Kate thinks it’s better for you to go out and not stay where you’re safe with me.

“Harry, I know that I’m safe when I’m with you,” Caroline says, dragging Harry out of his thoughts and into reality. “That’s why I’d like you to come, if for no other reason than to make sure I stay safe. ‘Course, you can mope and whine and complain the entire time, if you’d like, but I would like to have you there. Bachelor and Bachelorette parties are something we can only do once. That’s not something we get to have back.” Caroline looks at Harry and narrows her eyes before saying, “’Cause obviously you can’t divorce me, so you’ll only get one.”

“Can it, Callie.” Caroline laughs at that. Harry would never think about divorcing Caroline, especially not after everything they’ve been through, so the comment alone is always enough to annoy him, and she knows it. That’s the perk of being in love with someone that’s neurotypical, she would say, their things that annoy them are always the same, whereas she is something different every day. “Fine, fine. I’ll come. I’m not happy about it, though.”

Caroline kisses Harry’s cheek and frowns when a lipstick stain is left on his skin, her thumb rubbing at the maroon tint gently and then squeezing his shoulders in a hug. Harry’s arms immediately wrap around her waist and he’s nearly cleared of his annoyance, enough to smack her backside – all in good nature – playfully and let out a laugh. Caroline squeaks and pinches his hip, earning a perfect smile from Harry and a shine of his dimpled cheeks. “Get dressed and let’s go. Today’s the one day I’d rather not be late.”

* *

Harry’s hand is tight in Caroline’s as they walk towards the front door, the light outside flickering on and a bustle of commotion coming from the inside of the townhouse. There are at least three or four cars that are not Niall and Liv’s stacked in the driveway, all huddled close together to try and prevent parking on the street. Caroline squeezes Harry’s hand, and she smiles at him softly, kissing his cheek once more – without any tint of her lipstick left behind, this time – and knocks on the front door, waiting for either Niall or Liv to answer. Caroline smirks when Harry squeezes her hand back, wrapping their arms around her shoulder and bringing her into his chest and kissing her head lightly, comfortingly, and she knows that he’s no longer angry with her.

Niall’s townhouse apartment is only a few blocks south of where Harry and Caroline made a home. Liv and Niall can afford a bigger place, with Niall working at the publishing house and Liv working at one of the biggest magazines in the city, and it’s nice. Harry is happy for his friends, his best friends, and yet still feels the twinge of jealousy that he can’t give more to his fiancée than his best friend can give to his girlfriend. Harry’s guttural reaction is to feel this jealousy, this hindrance to his pride, his ego, and there’s something about it that makes him feel ill. Caroline would remind him that she loves their little hole in the wall, as she calls it, their little safe space. Callie and I will have more someday, someday soon, Harry reminds himself, shaking his head and tucking his nose in Caroline’s hair as they wait for the door to swing open and their friends to greet their arrival.

Naturally, Caroline and Harry are late. They’re always late.

“Callie!” Niall shouts from the foyer when the door swings open and his arms wide open for a gracious introductory hug. “Harry, long time no see, mate! Callie hasn’t been able to drag you out of the house in a month!”

Niall must be drunk already, Harry assumes, shaking his head and laughing as he steps inside the house and hugs his best friend tightly. Although, Niall is right; it’s been nearly a month since Harry has seen anyone but Caroline and the two other workers at the bookstore beneath their apartment. Harry hasn’t wanted to see anyone, to face reality. Living in a bubble of distance has been nice for a while, but Caroline is surely getting tired of it. “Things have been tough! Leave me alone!”

Niall looks side to side, as though to make sure that Caroline is gone and their privacy is ensured. Caroline’s voice is travelling through the tiny walkway into the kitchen, Liv already chatting with her about things that make no sense to Niall and Harry and Mitch joining in their conversation. “Is Callie okay? Only go into hiding like that when Cal isn’t doing so great.”

Harry sighs, pulling his bottom lip between his thumb and pointer finger, nodding cautiously, peering around the corner to get a glimpse of what his fiancée is doing and smiling slightly to himself at the sight of her, smiling and giggling with their friends and enjoying her time out already. Maybe this is good for her, for us. “Callie wasn’t doing great for a while. I wanted to stay home, where I could keep an eye on her and keep her safe. Things were scary, there, for a while, and you know what? Despite every single time I’ve tried to deny it, I can’t, I can’t be without her. She’s my everything. I have to do what I have to do to keep her safe and happy and healthy.”

“We know, Harry.” Niall smiles, and Harry knows it’s a pitying smile, but it’s a smile, nonetheless – a smile that Harry hasn’t seen in nearly a month that he’s missed dearly. “Come on, before Mitch thinks we’ve lost our shit, out here.”

“There’s the man of the hour!” Mitch calls from the barstool next to Liv, immediately grabbing Harry’s attention and bringing a genuine smile to his features. Harry realizes, then, that he hasn’t smiled once since they arrived nearly ten minutes ago.

“There you are!” Caroline smiles, nearly jumping into Harry’s chest and slinging her arms around his neck, kissing his cheek and smiling brightly at him.

Harry swears he hasn’t seen her this happy in months, likely since their engagement six months ago, and he’s beginning to think that keeping her away from their friends might’ve been more harmful than beneficial in her recovery. Guilt is always on Harry’s brain, lately.

Caroline leans onto her toes and grabs his cheeks to ensure his attention, her sweet, honey eyes making his heart speed up in his chest. “You know, I was beginning to think you left me and went home, Shakespeare.”

“Never,” Harry smiles softly, leaning towards her and pecking her lips, smirking when a slight blush creeps onto her cheeks. He kisses her temple and wraps his arm around her waist, settling at the curve of her hip. “Can’t get rid of me that quickly. Can’t get rid of me at all, but especially not when you’ve promised me a night of dancing and drinking.”

Caroline raises her eyebrows suggestively. “At all? That’s a staggering promise when the divorce rate for significant others where one partner has bipolar disorder is nearly one hundred percent.”

Of course, Caroline would know that, Harry says to himself, rolling his eyes and patting her backside playfully. “Cal, since you know this fact off the top of your head, I’m assuming you also know that there is a ten percent part of that statistic for partners that don’t get divorced, which will be you and myself, as far as I’m concerned. Honestly, I’m not all that concerned.”

Caroline’s lack of response, at first, makes Harry chuckle. Her eyes narrow slightly, and her lips turn into a devilish smirk and she leans onto her toes to whisper, “Confidence looks good on you, Harry,” she says, kissing his jaw and reaching around his back for her drink on the counter, a condensation ring wetting the rim of the glass. “Find it very sexy.”

Harry shakes his head and shuts his eyes, trying to ignore the way her hand has shifted slightly to lay on the curve of his back and his trousers feel slightly tighter. Caroline knows what she’s doing, she always does. “Cut it out, Caroline. Our friends are around.” Caroline shrugs her shoulders and giggles, the quiet laugh that makes his heart swell in his chest and feel loved by her. Her hand squeezes his waist before taking a sip of her drink and she looks at her best friend, as if they’ve already talked about how to get him to loosen the reigns a bit. “Okay, okay, you’ve got me out of the house, finally. Anyone care to tell me what we’re doing tonight?”

Clapping a hand onto Harry’s shoulder, Niall grins smugly and says, “Mate, we’re taking you out and getting you absolutely plastered.”

“Wonderful,” Harry says dryly, a breathy laugh passing through his lips and his eyes trading from the drink shoved into his hand – tequila, no doubt – to his fiancée, who is already getting clingy with her best friend and talking about how much she’s missed her. “Haven’t seen you all in almost a month and there are no stories to tell? I’d hate to say that I’m almost insulted.”

Mitch scoffs and shakes his head, “One month without you around, barely talking to us, and you think there are no stories to tell? I didn’t fly out from California to not have stories to tell.” Niall nods his head towards Mitch in agreement. “Haven’t you got some stories to tell? It’s been nearly a month without you talking to anyone, H.”

“Oh, surely,” Harry smirks sarcastically, clicking his tongue and taking a sharp breath in, “the adventures of running six bookstores across the country and getting to love this one, right here.” Harry smiles brightly at Caroline and her cheeks flush with a twinge of red that glimmers beneath the crème on her skin. “Always an adventure and worth a story.”

Mitch rolls his eyes. “Look, H, we all know you’re in love and everything, but fuck’s sake, tone it down a bit.” Mitch’s girlfriend is going to meet the group at the very first bar they’re attending, insisting on giving the friends time alone for a while before embarking on the hellish evening that would be their joint celebrations. “Think we should head out soon? Sarah is meeting us at the restaurant at eight. If I’m not mistaken, there are some others meeting us there, too.”

Caroline looks to Harry with confusion, only to see him shrug his shoulders and stare equally as confused. Maybe it’s your cousin, Molly, Harry wants to say, but he doesn’t want to get Caroline’s hopes too high before anything is revealed, and he certainly doesn’t want to ruin the surprise, if that’s it. That would make their friends very angry with him. Rightfully so.

“God, imagine if it was Molly. Could you imagine if Molly was here?” Caroline laughs aloud, and Liv’s eyes go wide, and Harry knows. Caroline ignores the teetering smile on Harry’s mouth, going on about how she’s so happy to be spending the night with their best friends and how they mean everything to her. Harry knows that everything is going to be right in the world as soon as Caroline lays eyes on her cousin, the one that she grew up with that was like a sister to her, whose mother loved her as her own. Harry knows that if anyone is closer to Caroline beside him and her father, it’s Molly and Aunt Daisy. “That’s absurd, though. Molly wouldn’t come all this way for the bachelorette party. Having a baby and all that? No way.”

Molly’s daughter, Ocean, is nearly two, now.

Harry and Caroline were there for her birth. Flying out to California and waiting in the labor and delivery lobby while Molly and her husband, Dylan, welcomed Ocean into the world. Caroline swears it was the best day of her life, to see her cousin – who’s more like her older sister – become a mother and be the happiest she’s ever seen. Caroline always swore that she would never have a child, but Harry saw the look in her eyes when she held that baby for the very first time, when they took pictures of Molly and Caroline and Ocean altogether, when Harry held the baby for the first time. Maybe it wasn’t that her mind had changed, but something made her think that maybe it wouldn’t be so bad to have one.

That’s all Harry could really ask for, anyway.

Harry laughs lightly at his fiancée and her dramatics, knowing fully well that she still sees their niece as the infant she once was, “Ocean is talking and walking, now. She’s nearly two, Cal.”

“That’s still a baby, Shakespeare. Trust me, if we ever have a baby, you’ll still think they’re a baby at two years old, too.”

Of the voices in the room, Harry’s is the only one to stay silent, after that. Niall, Liv, Mitch, and Caroline fall into mindless chatter, talking about the wedding and the upcoming events that they have sorted through, even though the event is maybe a max of thirty people. Harry stays silent and leans against the counter, sipping his drink mindlessly and listening to Caroline as she roams about the room and tells story after story to her best friend.

Harry doesn’t say anything about the comment Caroline’s made, even though it’s all he can think about, knowing that it would make her panic knowing that she’s brought up having a child, once again. Coming home from the hospital, it’s become a more reoccurring topic in their household, and Harry doesn’t want to push anything on Caroline when things are finally starting to get better. He isn’t oblivious, though. He sees the way she looks at the babies that come into the bookstore when they’re working, or the way she holds the baby that her publisher had only two months ago. Harry sees the way her eyes light up at the mention of their future and their wedding and all the things that come along with being a family, because that’s all she wants.

Caroline wants to have a family, a family that she can love and rely on, that isn’t only her father and her aunt and her cousin, that mean something to her and love her as much as she loves them. That doesn’t necessarily mean that they’ll have three children and a huge farmhouse and a life in the midlands, no, but it means that the company that Caroline surrounds herself in, now – her fiancé, their friends, her cousin and aunt, even her fiancé’s immediate relatives – are the family that she always wanted to have.

Harry wants to give Caroline that. If Harry could give her anything, he would give her a family.

Niall’s voice commands the attention of everyone in the room, making everyone else, including Harry, fall silent and bring their eyes to him. “All right, let’s get going to dinner. Made the reservations a bit later in case anyone was late.” Niall winks at Caroline. “Cal, everyone worked really hard, especially your fiancé to make this surprise happen for you and we don’t want you to miss it.”

Caroline looks to Harry, walks towards him, and wraps her arms around his waist, squeezing his hip sweetly and leaning her chin on his chest. “Especially you?”

“Aren’t you the one that said we’ll only get married once?” Caroline nods without saying a word, solely intending on listening to what Harry has to say. “Then, I’m going to go all out for you, Cal. You deserve everything and more than that, Buggy.”

“All right, all right. Enough of that, H. God, you two are disgusting,” Niall laughs, reaching out for Liv to take his hand and making his way towards the front door. “Oh wait!” He reaches around the coffee table for something and brings out a blindfold. “You’ll need this.” Caroline looks at Harry and Niall with furrowed brows, confusion written across her face. “Trust me, okay?”

Caroline, for once in her life, nods quietly, and decides not to make an argument.

* *

Harry knows it was wrong to lie. Harry knows that it was wrong to lie and say that he didn’t want to go to the bachelor party. Harry is sure of that. Harry is well aware that it’s wrong to lie to Caroline and tell her that he doesn’t want to go, and that she shouldn’t go either, when in actuality, he has been working all along with her best friend to make sure the surprise worked out in her favor. He wasn’t told what the surprise might be, but he had an inkling, a guess as to what it could be, and he wanted that for Caroline, so badly.

Caroline deserves the world, and Harry would do anything to give it to her.

Considering that, one lie wouldn’t really hurt her, right? At the end of the day, the surprise is for her. That would make this all better, wouldn’t it?

Harry’s hands are gently guiding her through the entryway, holding her waist securely, her hands holding onto his hips as they walk inside, the rustling and commotion of other guests and customers ringing through the restaurant. Caroline slowly readjusts her position, clasping her hands together beneath her chin and sighing nervously, the noise level coming to a halt and the only thing she can hear is the quiet chatter of Liv and Niall standing next to her. Harry doesn’t say a word, but she can feel him loosen his grip around her, and it makes her know that they’re at their spot for the night.

“Can I take the blindfold off?” Caroline wonders aloud, taking a deep breath and beginning to feel slightly claustrophobic under the darkened light. Harry leaves her side, she can feel it, and the anxiety starts again, nervousness wracking through her body. “Shakespeare?”

“Take your blindfold off, Cal.”

Caroline slowly takes off the blindfold – the makeshift blindfold that was really one of their friend’s bandanas from festivals they all go to every summer – and her eyes well with tears at the sight. Molly standing in front of her, grinning, arms wide open waiting for a hug. “Hey, Cal.”

“Molly,” Caroline whispers wetly, rushing forward and wrapping her arms around her cousin tightly, squeezing her and holding her as they cry tears of joy and excitement and giggle quietly to themselves. “Molly, I can’t believe you’re here. This is insane.” Molly gently wipes Caroline’s tears and then wipes her own cheeks, smiling brightly and hugging her once more. “How the hell did you get here? How’s Ocean? Dylan? Are they here?”

“Harry gave your best friend my number and she organized everything for us. Dylan and Ocean are here, too,” Molly grins, cupping Caroline’s shoulders and sighing contently. Molly looks genuinely happy, and that makes Caroline smile and the anxiety suddenly calm throughout her body. “Ocean, Dylan and I are staying for a week, but tonight, it’s all about you and Harry. All of us are here for you two. That’s what matters tonight. That we celebrate you two and your love and all that means for you. Caroline, do you know how much happiness you deserve to have in life?” Molly frowns when Caroline shakes her head. “All of it. All the happiness. That’s what this is going to be. Happy.”

“I love you,” Caroline says barely above a whisper, wrapping her arms around Molly’s shoulders and bringing her into a tight hug, blinking back the tears that are threatening to spill over. “I love all of you.” Caroline turns to Liv and Harry standing side by side, a huge smile spread across her features, threatening to ache her cheeks. “Shakespeare, did you know?”

Harry is trying to hide the grin on his face. Harry’s trying so hard not to smile, not to break into a sloppy grin and pull Caroline into a hug and whisper how much he loves her. “Partially.”

Caroline walks over to him, wraps her arms around his waist, smiles and says, “I love you, H,” and guilt washes over him, weighing heavy on his chest as though lied to the most important person in his life.

Harry is selfish when it comes to Caroline. He knows that. Harry knows that he’s selfish and that’s why he’s beginning to feel guilty for not wanting to come, tonight, for wanting to keep Caroline at home where they can stay in their tiny bubble of security and never leave. Caroline is so happy to be around her friends and Molly, that Harry knows it was wrong of him to want to stay home and even try to get her to stay there, as well. He’s working on it, especially in therapy with her, day by day, to be less nervous when it comes to going out and about after an episode and working on being more secure with the highs and lows.

His heart is heavy, and Caroline can tell by looking at him.

“Don’t feel badly,” she whispers, reaching onto her toes and having her lips touch the shell of his ear to make sure that no one else can hear her. Molly and Niall and Liv are talking amongst themselves, while Mitch is waving down his girlfriend from the entryway, and Harry is wrapping his arms around Caroline’s waist to hold her tightly to his chest, ensuring that no one can hear what she’s trying to say. “All you want is to keep me safe, H, which I appreciate. Everyone knows that. Want you to know, though, that I am happy that we’re here, that we’re with our friends. And I want you to enjoy tonight with me. Guilt isn’t something you need to feel, okay?”

Harry doesn’t say a word, at first, simply lifting his head from her neck and kissing her, pressing his lips to hers and soaking in the way she immediately kisses him back, their lips moving wordlessly on each other’s. “I love you. I love you so much.”

Caroline smiles and says what she always says to Harry when he says the three words she needs to hear, making him smile and feel his heart flutter. “Love you more.”

Quickly, Harry and Caroline turn around, trying to avoid any attention on their conversation and finding their table and taking a seat with Liv and Niall, Mitch and his girlfriend following closely behind. Molly takes a seat next and stands, laying her hands on the table and smiling as if with an announcement. “Okay, okay! I want to hear a story about you two that I haven’t heard before. Obviously, I know that Harry used to be an ass and I know Callie hated him, but we haven’t heard stories about the first kiss and things like that! Callie likes to keep secrets.”

“More like privacy,” Caroline laughs, taking a sip of her water and sighing, trying to think of a story to tell. Truth be told, Caroline didn’t tell anyone much about her relationship with Harry before they were officially dating, so most stories are ones that their friends and family don’t know. Caroline didn’t tell anyone, not because she was embarrassed, but because she was utterly confused by her emotions, by her feelings, and it was easier to ignore everything than to face the impending change that was about to make her life completely different, forever. “I guess I could tell you about our first kiss.”

“On your first date, right?” Liv says, handing her menu to the waiter and ordering her food quietly. Niall’s arm is around her shoulders and Caroline can see that they’re happy, too. Caroline notices those things, she’s realized lately, she really notices when people are happy. Niall and Liv, Molly and Dylan, Harry – all of them are happy. Caroline wants to be included in that. “That one, we know, I think, Cal.”

“Harry and I kissed way before that, Liv. Like, years before that.”

“Three times, actually,” Harry says with a smirk. “Caroline kissed me three times.”

Niall and Mitch snicker, knowing that they’ve heard this story from the days they happened, and Liv’s eyes go wide. Molly whistles, and Caroline can’t hold back her own laughter and she settles into her seat and knows that this story is about to get interesting.

Harry and Caroline haven’t seen each other since that dreaded day at Caroline’s apartment with Liv and Niall watching what Caroline would call the “show”. Caroline and Harry somehow managed to keep their interactions strictly to email, corresponding simply through the computer, which allowed for the two to pass Rigsby’s class and make it to their final semester without a qualm or quarry about whether or not they would be able to graduate in the springtime. Liv and Niall are still going strong, dating for nearly six months, now, and Niall basically lives with Caroline and Liv. Caroline doesn’t mind Niall all that much, what she does mind is the way he is constantly bringing up Harry. Harry Styles, that ridiculous man with a God complex and an ‘I’m better than you think I am’ attitude that surely gets on her last nerve.

Caroline hasn’t seen Harry since that day they fought, and yet, Harry is all she can think about. Harry would’ve said this, Harry would’ve said that – it’s beginning to get annoying.

Max caught on to the way things were going, the downwards spiral that Caroline was heading in, and suggested an appointment with the psychiatrist to change her medicine, which only made Caroline more angry with the situation and say that they need to call it quits for a while. Her boyfriend didn’t argue like she was expecting, like Caroline was wanting (slightly); instead, he simply kissed her on the cheek and told her to call him when she was feeling better, when the episode was over – that much he didn’t say, but it was implied, she assumes.

Only now, three months later, Caroline never called. Only now, three months later, in the middle of February, with the wind chilling against her cheeks and mascara marking her skin, Caroline is alone in the world, isolated and hidden from outsiders, sitting in the bed of her rusty maroon truck, with nothing but a headache and faulty brain.

Bipolar Disorder is funny. Caroline thinks so, at least. Caroline thinks it’s funny that media, particularly social media, has labelled anyone with the more common disorders as more or less harmless to society, that it’s normal and almost quirky now to have these disorders that can debilitate and affect your everyday life, and yet, the disorder that she and nearly six million other people have is labelled as unstable and violent and dangerous in the worst-case scenarios. Caroline thinks about all the things she’s heard in her twenty-some years of life, all the, ‘you’re crazy’, ‘you’re so bipolar’, ‘can’t you just like, be normal’, or her personal favorite, ‘just be happy!’, and cringes to herself, shaking the feelings away and trying to think about something else. If Caroline could just, be happy, she wouldn’t be taking medication, she wouldn’t be in therapy, she wouldn’t be in this position. Caroline wouldn’t be alone if people with Bipolar Disorder could just ‘be happy’.

Gabriel and Caroline Ryan would be in the Grand Canyon, today. They would be in the Grand Canyon, screaming and exploring and travelling across the national park to see sights they’ve seen nearly twelve times. Caroline misses her father dearly, misses him more than anyone could ever miss a person, and it makes her think about the day her life changed forever over a year ago. The Grammys’ Music Cares would have a dedication for him this year, for the change that he brought to the music industry in the short time he was part of it. Caroline wants to go, but she’s nervous to go alone, to have to talk about her father by herself without anyone there. Molly and Aunt Daisy might come if she asks, but she’s nervous. All of it is a lot to think about. All of it is too much.

Heavy footsteps, likely from an early morning runner, bring Caroline back to reality. Quickly wiping her eyes and blinking away the tears – maybe a bit too quickly and hurting her eyes in the process – Caroline gathers her emotions and takes notice of where she is. Is Caroline really at the beach, again? This is the third time this week that she’s woken from a manic episode and found herself at the beach an hour away. Caroline didn’t notice the sun rise or the waves change into high tide, only her emotions and the way her brain is devilish, even on a good day.

“Caroline?” Harry nearly trips over his own feet when he sees Caroline sitting in the bed of her truck. Harry takes the headphones out of his ears, walking towards the truck and knocking on the side, peeking his head around the corner and smiling softly when her eyes lift to meet his. “Is that my best friend?” Harry always says stupid shit to make her angry; it gets a reaction; it gets Caroline to speak to him.

Going on to notice a few things, first, before she even responds, Harry makes a point to realize that this must be the mania thing that Liv was talking about when he asked what was wrong with Caroline the last time they spoke. Liv, privately, indulged Harry and told her what Caroline’s ‘problem’ is, telling him that if he wanted to understand it, then he should do his own research or maybe try to be nicer and talk to her. Harry voted for the research on his own accord and the fact that Caroline barely glances at him. Caroline’s body is clad in nothing but shorts and a silk camisole, something that would be normal for the summertime or even to wear around campus – which he’s seen a million times with her before – but it seems different this time. Maybe it seems different because the weather is barely permitting to be outside without sweatshirts and sweatpants, but it seems different, nonetheless. Caroline’s olive skin seems slightly pale, and Harry swears that he’s seeing things when there are black tracks on her cheeks. Lastly, it’s February, and Caroline is at the beach at sunrise without even a blanket to lay over her body.

Harry can simply tell something is off, and he wants to know what it is.

“Are you stalking me, now?” Caroline says spitefully, shaking her head and biting her bottom lip to hide the shivers wracking through her body.

“Always so hostile, Caroline,” Harry says, shaking his head in a mimicking tone. “Can’t you just be nice for once?”

“Can’t you just mind your own damn business?” she says hurriedly, her chin dropping to her chest and her hands combing through her hair frustratedly as she sighs. Achingly so, the thoughts are intrusive and cruel as they ripple through her brain. Don’t cry again. Don’t cry again. Don’t cry again. Especially not in front of Harry. He’ll just think you’re crazy like everyone else. He doesn’t get you, Caroline. He never will. He’s not anyone you can trust. Caroline mistakenly trusts the thoughts and looks at Harry with annoyance, “Look, what do you want, Harry?”

Harry lets out a breathy laugh and then walks around the edge of the truck and takes the bed down, leaning on the edge of the hood, and sitting on the ledge. “Honestly, I wanted to go for my morning jog to clear my head. Apparently, you like to drive to the beach I like to run at. I saw your truck, which has you in it, crying on the beach at,” Harry looks at his phone, “seven in the morning. Do you want to talk?”

“Don’t think you want to hear about my problems, Mr. Shakespeare,” Caroline laughs, sighing audibly when Harry takes his sweatshirt off and offers it to her without saying a word, making it known that it’s not an option, that she’s going to wear it, and her arm reluctantly reaches out for it, hands climbing through the sleeves and pulling it over her torso. “Thanks.”

Harry shrugs it off and takes the initiative to sit closer to her, taking a seat in the corner of the bed and sitting across from Caroline as she stares into space, her eyes focused on the crashing waves of the high tide and the way the sound whooshes over their silence. “Well, Caroline, you’ve never told me your middle name, Ryan, it’s freezing and you’re in shorts at the beach, in your truck, with barely anything, not even a blanket, to cover you. I think that warrants a conversation. At the very least, give me the outline of what’s going on. As your friend.”

“Oh,” Caroline nods, a sarcastic smirk toying at the corners of her mouth, “so we’re friends, now, Harry?” Harry shrugs and Caroline looks at him with wide eyes and raised eyebrows, “Made it through one semester barely speaking to each other and you think we’re friends?” Caroline’s tone is harsh but there is a hint, the slightest hint, of a playful tone beneath her words.

“Oh, haven’t we always been, Caroline?” Considering how tense things were between the two a little less than two weeks ago when the semester ended, when they had to give their final presentation of their annotations together while only communicating through emails – and their professor never even noticed – it certainly would make sense that they weren’t friends. Caroline forces a half-smile at him, and Harry swears that his heart could have stopped beating at the sight. “Think our friendship started right before you called me privileged. That really started it all, for me, at least.” Caroline’s smiled before, surely, she has, while writing or while she was talking about her book in class just before everything went to shit, but never to Harry. That is a sight for sore eyes, certainly. “C’mon, Caroline Ryan. Make yourself be vulnerable for once. That’s how people become friends.”

“Vulnerable isn’t really my thing.” Caroline sighs audibly, her fingers running through her hair and taking a deep breath, trying to find the right words to make her life seem a little less pathetic than how it really feels to tell the tale. Caroline always hated this part, with girlfriends and boyfriends and friends and family, having to tell the sob story that always warranted a sympathetic stare and a pitying apology. That was never something she wanted. Caroline never wanted anyone to look at her and feel sorry for her; Caroline had a good life, has a good life.

Beyond the whole, brain not working properly, thing.

“Make it your thing.” Harry looks at Caroline and cautiously sets his hand on her knee, not caring that his sweatshirt is now pulled over her knees and her thighs are tucked under the material, certainly stretching it out beyond fixing. Liv told Harry that Caroline doesn’t like to be touched, that it stresses her out to be hugged or touched or bothered without rhyme or reason, and he knows that this is a risk, but he wants her to look at him, to meet his stare, and know that he’s telling her the truth. “Caroline, I want to be your friend. I can’t make that any clearer than what I’ve been trying to do.”

Harry is referencing all the apologies he’s made, all the efforts at parties and gatherings to talk to her and try to make conversation, all the work that he dedicated to their project for Rigsby and the conversations he’s had with her best friend to try and understand why she is the way she is. Caroline has ignored everything, in and including knowing that Harry has asked Liv about her and her disorder. Caroline hasn’t ignored everything to be rude, no, but to save Harry the time.

Harry is just going to leave like everyone else. Like her father, like her mother, like her boyfriends, like her friends. Harry is no different than anyone else she’s met.

“Harry, you don’t want to be my friend.”

“How do you know?” Harry is insulted by that, by the harshness of the words. How could Caroline even know what Harry wants, when she’s barely taken the time to get to know him? “Caroline, you have no idea what I want.”

Something about the way Harry says that sets Caroline off on a tangent.

“Harry, if we become friends, everything will change; there’s going to be this attachment between us, something neither of us will be able to control. It’s not the ‘let’s hang out every few days or so’ or the ‘let’s see each other with our friends’ type of attached. It’s more than that.” Caroline waits for Harry to say something, and when he doesn’t, she continues, “There will be no reason, but something in my head will say to text you at two in the morning, just because, and I’ll want to talk every day and be around you. It’s addictive for me to be around people. It’s not normal. There’s nothing normal about me, Harry. There’s never a normal amount of anything, it’s over indulged and incessant and it’s why I don’t have a relationship anymore. It’s why my life is pretty lonely; it’s why I like to be alone. That’s why I’m moving out of the apartment with Liv and getting my own place. Quite hard to annoy people if you’re not around them much.”

Harry looks shocked when Caroline says this, this revelation, a certain and outright explanation as to why she’s been holding herself back from a relationship with him in any way, especially when it’s felt like he’s been trying so much. “Is that what you think? That you’re annoying?”

“My mom thought having a daughter with bipolar disorder was annoying, and that’s why she left,” Caroline says beneath her breath, nearly quiet enough to prevent Harry from hearing, but the waves had receded, and the wind had slowed, and the silence was forgiving enough to allow him to listen. Harry’s wide, green eyes alone told Caroline that he heard every word. “My dad was the only person that ever understood me. His brain was like mine, absolutely fucked. My dad had the coolest brain, though. My dad’s brain, even though he had bipolar disorder, too, it just worked. My dad could write songs and go on tour and raise a daughter by himself for seventeen years. All of that, he could do all of that, with a brain that tells you you’re worthless, all the time. My dad was a whole fucking superhero.”

“Only been a year, right? A little bit over?”

“One year and sixty-two days,” she mutters, pulling the sleeves of the hoodie over her hands and wrapping herself tighter in a ball, her thighs pulled to her chest and her chin resting on her knees. “Matters to no one but me, though. That’ll always be how it is. Only me.”

“Matters to a lot of people, Caroline,” Harry says, sliding in closer to her body and having his feet touch hers. “Mattered to me when I heard the news. Mattered to all his fans. Matters to you.” Caroline sucks in a heavy breath and lets it out between slightly parted lips, ignoring the way Harry has inched closer to her and his hand is dangerously close to reaching out and laying a comforting touch to her thigh. Harry opens his mouth, hesitating to even bring the sentence back into conversation, “Caroline, I had no idea about your mother, I’m sorry.”

There it is. The pity.

Caroline quickly changes the subject. “Come in the ocean with me.” Harry looks as though three heads had suddenly appeared through her body, six eyes staring back at him with wide green irises as she raises her eyebrows and gives a pointed stare. “Well? Are you coming?”

Harry grabs Caroline’s hand and there is a rush of electricity that passes through their fingertips, a current that is warm and attractive, adrenaline-like, encouraging another touch. “Caroline, it’s freezing in there. Have you got any idea how cold the water is going to be in February?”

“And your point is?”

Harry stares at her in amazement, pursing his lips together and trying to understand where the lack of care is stemming from, where the lack of empathy for her wellbeing comes from when she’s got so much going for her. “Go if you want to go; I’ll stay here and wait.”

“You’ll stay? You’ll stay while I go into the ocean,” Caroline repeats with a laugh for confirmation, knowing that he must be insane to stay and watch her go in the ocean during a moment of pure mania, the feeling of wanting to feel anything in her veins, particularly the adrenaline that the freezing, salt water will give her. Harry seems supportive, surely, but will that last? “Are you sure?”

Harry’s heart sinks and his lips purse tighter in a straight line, nodding silently, his mind set on proving her instinct wrong – her instinct that says everyone will leave if she shows the slightest bit of the uncontrolled side of herself. “Caroline, I’m sure.”

“God, Harry, you have to stop calling me ‘Caroline’,” she says sternly, tugging his sweatshirt off her torso and tossing it in the back of the truck, watching as he smoothly grabs it and holds it on his thighs. “Dad barely called me ‘Caroline’ and he named me.”

“Alright, I’ll call you,” Harry waits for a moment, thinking carefully, “Callie, only Callie, from now on. That’s something I can do. Can I call you Cal, too? Is that off limits?”

“Okay, Cal and Callie are fine.”

Harry can tell that there’s something underlying that she wants to say in the way she says ‘okay’ and the way she bites her tongue, but not wanting to push the slight progress they’ve already made, Harry makes the choice to leave it alone. “Callie, are you really going in the ocean?”

“Why wouldn’t I?”

“’Cause it’s bloody freezing. That’s why,” Harry says matter-of-factly, as if all of his logic is going down the drain talking to her. “Like, you’re really going in?”

“Not all of us feel everything in the world, Harry,” Caroline says, shaking her head and bringing her arms to fold across her chest. “Like me, for instance. On days like today, it’s lovely to feel absolutely nothing.”

Harry stares at Caroline with curiosity and interest in his eyes, a look purely made of concern and misunderstanding. His furrowed eyebrows and wrinkled forehead say his confusion, enough to tell her that he’s absolutely oblivious to what she really means by feeling nothing. “Nothing?”

“Not a damn thing, Harry.”

Caroline rushes into the water, then, without saying another word. Hair twists along her shoulders, slightly messy and greasy and unwashed from a few days, her skin dry and likely drinking in the feeling of the water against her ankles as she slowly lowers herself into the ocean, reaching to where her knees meet the sea, and the waves crash into her thighs. Harry doesn’t say a word, simply watching her as she soaks in the way the water feels on her numb skin, and he shivers, thinking of the temperature against his body. Harry knows, now, what this is.

Caroline stays in the water for well over ten minutes, Harry sitting in the bed of her truck, watching her as she soaks in the water crashing over her thighs and wetting the hems of her shorts. Harry can see her shivering, the way that if the waves slow, he could probably hear the chattering of her teeth from across the beach. Caroline looks happy, though, and Harry isn’t sure if that’s a side effect of the mania or medication or what, but he certainly isn’t going to ask. That’s off limits. Liv made that very clear. Consciously bringing up Caroline’s mania will make her shut down and tune whoever it is out for good – hence the break with her boyfriend – and that will leave Harry with no connection to Caroline at all. That’s not what Harry wants at all.

“Are you daydreaming, again, Mr. Mitty?” Caroline’s voice tugs Harry out of his daydream, the reference to the fictional character making him laugh breathily. “What’s so funny?”

“Nothing at all,” Harry shrugs, handing her the sweatshirt and watching her as she yanks it over her head, the material falling to her thighs and sitting very much oversized on her frame. “If we hadn’t just become friends,” he says confidently, swinging his legs over the edge of the truck and adjusting their bodies slightly so that she is tucked between his thighs, “I think I might’ve tried to kiss you, Callie.”

“Might have?” Caroline laughs, shaking her head and shoving his shoulder back with her hand, the sleeves endearingly tucked over the heels of her hands. “Come on, Harry, be vulnerable. Honestly. Can’t lie to me and tell me you wouldn’t have tried to kiss me that day we were having a screaming match outside my apartment if I had let you.”

“If you had let me. Alright, Miss Ryan, whatever you say.”

“Fine, then,” Caroline says surely, taking a deep breath, climbing onto the edge of the bed of the truck and straddling Harry’s waist, grabbing his cheeks in her hands firmly, and finally laying her lips on his. Caroline’s eyes are squeezing shut, trying to ignore the sparks flying through her skin and the way Harry’s hands have found their way to her waist, holding her to him, his mouth immediately reciprocating the kiss and giving the same energy she’s putting out. On the long list (three) of people that Caroline has kissed in her lifetime, this may be the most interesting, the most unusual. Coming from someone that she hated mere weeks ago, kissing Harry feels worldly different, like something that is almost, right, in a way; it feels okay to be kissing him.

Caroline’s first kiss was a boy in the tenth grade, Connor was his name, on her very first date; very, how do you say politely, inexperienced. Caroline’s second kiss was Maxwell, on their third date, and many others after that, and they were always lovely. Max’s kisses made her feel loved when she was feeling lonely. Max made her feel warm inside, made her feel happy. Caroline loves Max, and she may always love him. Her first love. Caroline’s third kiss is with a man that she absolutely was disgusted with until about thirty minutes ago.

And that alone, the mere thought of kissing someone that she once hated, is how Caroline knows that she is manic. Harry doesn’t know that, though. Harry doesn’t need to know that. That’s something that she doesn’t need to share, not right now, now when they’ve just become friends.

“There,” Caroline says, pulling away and wiping at her bottom lip, slowly climbing off his thighs and jumping onto the tarmac. “Is it out of your system, yet?”

Harry shakes his head confidently, a smug smirk sitting prettily on his features. “Callie, you’ve just opened pandora’s box with that, sweetheart.”

“Ew,” she says, gagging at the thought of being called anything other than her name by this man that she’s suddenly become uncomfortably close with, and walking around to the side of the truck to grab her keys from the passenger seat. “Think about calling me a cutesy name like that again and I’ll key you, Carrie Underwood style.”

“Got a lot of rage in you, Callie.”

“Got a lot fucked up things going on in this brain of mine, Harry.” Caroline leans over the side of the truck, laying her arms on the rim and leaning her chin on the back of her hands. “Are you sure you want to be my friend? This is what it’s like, like, sixty percent of the time. Maybe seventy. I’m kind of insane, Harry.”

“Callie, you’re not insane.”

Caroline looks at Harry as though he’s grown three heads, and he’s insane for saying such a thing. Clinically, Caroline is mentally ill. “I just told you I have Bipolar Disorder,” she says astoundingly, as though the fact alone would make him want to run and hide away from her forever. “That makes me insane, Harry. Clinically insane.”

“Clinically insane is used for criminals,” Harry says with a laugh, shaking his head at the dramatization of their entire conversation. Caroline was surely dramatic, way over dramatic for someone that would barely hurt a fly. Harry kind of likes it. “Are you a criminal?”

“Hard criminal.”

“Ah, yes,” Harry chuckles, leaning his hands on the edge of the truck and sliding off the bed, his feet landing on the tarmac with a hard smack. Caroline turns to face him, and a breath catches in her throat as she notices how close they are; with one wrong move, their chests, their entire bodies would be touching. “Hardened criminal, you are. More like a pesky bug. That’s what I should call you from now on. How’s that for a nickname? Not nearly as cutesy as sweetheart.”

“Easy there,” Caroline says, shutting the truck and climbing into the driver’s seat, moving her things around and shoving the mess to the passenger seat floor, rolling her window down to speak to him. “You and I aren’t close enough for nicknames like that, just yet. You just convinced me to be your friend, Harry. That’s enough for one day, I think. I think that’s good.”

“You called me Shakespeare! That was a nickname!”

“That was more of an insult, Mr. Literal.”

Harry shakes his head and leans over the windowsill of the driver’s seat, smirking wildly and staring into Caroline’s light green eyes. “You’ll learn to love me Callie Ryan, you’ll see.”

* *

New York is freezing, even for the springtime. Harry knew this, but for some reason, it didn’t occur to him how cold it would be until he and Caroline were walking through the exit doors of the airport and the wind was whipping against his cheeks. Caroline turns to Harry, pulling his hood over his head and ears and smiles quaintly, patting his cheek and nodding towards the car waiting for their arrival on the curb.

Harry can tell that Caroline is anxious, and he instinctively grabs her hand, trying desperately to comfort her, squeezing her lightly and taking the initiative to walk to the man outside the car and talk to him about their situation. Caroline is reluctant to let go of his hand, and immediately grabs his hand when they’re seated in the backseat, forcing a smile at him – that he knows is fake – and talking to the driver about her father and the event and thanking him for the ride. Harry gets out first and checks the two into the hotel, sighing and trying to convince the receptionist that there should be two rooms in reservation, or at the very least, a room with two beds.

“Harry, it’s okay,” Caroline insists, shaking her head furiously and squeezing his hand, silently begging him to not cause a scene in the middle of the all-too-fancy hotel that they’re in. “Can you just get the keys so we can go upstairs?”

Harry knows that Caroline is having a literal panic attack as they stand there, and his first reaction is to wrap her tightly in his arms and hold her there until she’s okay. Caroline stands next to him, handing the receptionist her identification and anxiously twitches her knee and cracks her knuckles, Harry’s hand immediately goes to her back to try and alleviate some stress.

Harry likes how things have changed since that morning at the beach. Harry likes things a lot. Harry doesn’t mind that he knows the intimate details about Caroline’s mental health, the days she has therapy, the times she takes her medication. Harry knows these things because of how much their relationship has changed since that morning, since they decided to become friends and let everything change for what feels like the better.

“Here you are, Miss Ryan. Enjoy your stay!”

“Thank you,” Caroline swallows thickly, smiling and nodding and turning on her heel quickly to walk towards the elevators in the corner of the lobby. Harry follows quickly behind, lugging their suitcases behind him and nudging the elevator closed with his elbow. Caroline is quiet for the first few minutes, and then says, “Thank you for not causing a scene.”

“Giving you basic, common courtesy, Cal,” Harry says, gesturing for her to exit first when the elevator dings and reaches their floor, the sliding doors opening slowly. “Think we have about three hours before we have to be downstairs at the venue. Can you squeeze in a nap in that time, do you think?”

Caroline opens the door shakily and walks inside, setting her belongings on the table and waiting for Harry to shut and lock the door behind her before she says a word. “I want to go over my speech, I think. Maybe I’ll call Molly and read it to her, again.”

Harry nods knowingly, “’Course, whatever you want.”

Harry wasn’t originally supposed to go to this event with Caroline. It was meant to be her cousin, Molly, and her aunt, Daisy. It was meant to be her family, coming to honor Gabriel Ryan for the evening, but since Caroline’s grandparents passed away, Aunt Daisy became ill, and Molly couldn’t have time away from work, Caroline was left with her only other option: her friends. Liv is proposing her thesis in the morning and couldn’t miss the meeting, and Niall really didn’t to impose. Caroline was left with only one person to really be there for her when she needed it the most. Caroline was left with the one that she was unsure could really handle the mess that she would be. Caroline was left with certain uncertainty.

Harry.

MusiCares for The Grammys is a huge event. Likely one of the biggest events of the year in the music industry, beyond The Grammys and the award shows, themselves. Caroline has been once or twice with her father when she was a young girl, even with her mother, once. Harry is standing next to her, holding her hand tightly, rubbing his thumb along her knuckles trying to soothe the anxiety that he knows is coursing through her veins in this very moment.

Coming from the moment she walked out of the bathroom with her dress hanging loosely off her shoulders and her lace shoes untied around her ankles, Harry knew that Caroline would be a mess and the mania that she felt earlier in the week would be long gone. Especially gone by the time she is listening to Dave Grohl – her father’s mentor, his best friend, her godfather – give his speech about her father and all that he gave to the world of music. Caroline wouldn’t be able to handle listening to that, especially from the person that arguably knew him better than she did.

“Honestly, I don’t think I can do this, Harry. I don’t think I can get up there and talk about Dad to all these people who didn’t give two fucks about him when he was alive, but suddenly care now that he’s gone,” Caroline says suddenly, staring at Harry with wide eyes, nervously biting her cheek and feeling as though the walls are caving in around her. “How am I supposed to do this? This isn’t fair! This is his award. They don’t even know that they’re releasing his new album, this year. Am I supposed to announce that? Harry, help.”

Harry doesn’t know what to do. Harry doesn’t know what to say, what to do in this situation, how to make everything better. Harry wants to make Caroline feel better, to make her feel like there’s someone there for her that will be cheering her on and making her feel like every word she says is important, that people will listen, and that the words she will say will be just as important to everyone in that room as it would have been if her father was there to make the acceptance speech, himself. Harry does what always seems to calm Caroline, grabs her cheeks and brings her into his chest, holding her tightly to him and squeezing his arms around her.

“Usually, this would work, Harry,” she says with her cheeks squished to his chest, trying to pull her face away from his neck and meet his stare, “but this is something desperate and, honestly, I think I’m going to lose it.” Caroline’s eyes flick between Harry’s lips and his emerald eyes, and she knows what she wants in that moment, a simple kiss, a barely-there peck, something to keep her mind away from the speech and onto something different. “Could you kiss me?” Harry hesitates, looking from side to side, and Caroline begins to panic, thinking that she’s overstepped a boundary and Harry is surely going to hate her and dislike her forever and ever. “Actually, never mind, that was a stupid question, that was ridiculous. I’m so sorry I even asked. I shouldn’t be able to speak. That’s so embarrassing and certainly not something you want to do, and it was inconsiderate of me to ask. I’m very sorry. I’m going to go. I have to do this. I’m sorry.”

“Caroline,” Harry says without thinking, grabbing Caroline’s cheeks and hurriedly pressing his lips against hers, their mouths moving rhythmically together, the emotions and the adrenaline coursing through their veins making everything feel a million times more intense than it truly is.

“Thank you,” Caroline mutters against his mouth, silently hoping that Harry knows that she is expressing her gratitude for more than simply the kiss. “Okay, I have to go,” she says, looking at the stage and the imposing thoughts intruding her mind about the speech tucked away in her chest. “You’ll stay here?”

“I’m not going anywhere.” Harry kisses Caroline’s forehead, squeezing her in a tight hug before nodding towards the stage and gently nudging her towards the staircase, Dave Grohl standing there, smiling, waiting with the award held in his hand to hand to her. Harry whistles loudly when she steps on the stage, and she turns to look at him with a knowing smile, the erupted cheers of the audience not anywhere near what she wanted to be hearing. Caroline would have preferred to give the speech to Harry and Harry only. Harry wouldn’t judge her.

“Thank you. Thank you so much,” Caroline says nervously, trading the heavy plaque in her hands and sucking in a deep breath as the tears prick at her eyes. “Gabriel Ryan said many things about the world, specifically saying, ‘this world will take you for granted’, and ‘sometimes it’s the ones you love most that hurt you the worst’. Gabriel Ryan felt abandoned by the world in many ways, especially when his mental health went through the worst times. Gabriel Ryan, however, found a silver lining. Music.” Caroline looks away and stares at the ceiling, tears welling in her eyes and her voice becoming shaky. “My father loved being a musician. He felt like his purpose on this planet was to make others feel less alone, to make a crowd of twenty thousand people feel like they were best friends with everyone in the room. Dad’s goal in life was to make someone feel like their life was worth living, that their life meant something, that they weren’t simply a thing in whatever mess life is. I don’t think my father realized that he did that for every single one of you, at one time or another; that he changed the lives of so many people.” Caroline looks over to Harry for support, and she can see the tears in his eyes, and she blinks, the tears that were once welled inside her eyes now coming along her cheeks. “Mental Health is a tricky thing. There’s still this stigma around it, around Bipolar Disorder, that makes you think that anyone that has it is crazy or something. That you’re crazy, or violent, or different, or otherworldly. God, please know, that you’re not crazy, you’re not any of those things. That’s something Gabriel Ryan wanted people to understand. That was something that my father dedicated his whole life to – educating about mental health. That’s why he’s receiving this award, today. ‘Cause someone, somewhere, felt better by what he did, what he does.” Caroline sucks in a breath through her teeth and says under her breath, barely loud enough for the microphone to grab what she’s saying, “Dad, I wish you could see how much you mean to all these people.” Harry nearly walks on stage to comfort her, but Caroline blinks back her tears and gathers her emotions. “I want to thank the Academy for dedicating this award to my father and everything that he worked for. I want to thank everyone that was his friend, for always supporting his endeavors and making him feel less alone. Lastly, I want to thank my father, Gabriel Ryan, for being the man that the world needed, to teach us everything about mental health. I hope that your message transcends past anything you could ever say with song.” Caroline holds up the award one final time and says, “Thank you.”

Caroline receives a standing ovation, whistles and cheers and eruptions from the audience standing on their feet to support every word that she spoke. Harry is screaming from backstage, whistling and hollering for her, his voice travelling louder than any other voice in the entire room. Caroline walks quickly towards him, his hand reaching for the award to hold for her, her arms wrapping around his shoulders and tucking her face in his neck instinctively. His hands rub along her back, rocking her back and forth comfortingly as she sobs into his neck. Harry knows that no ounce of that speech was easy, that nothing about it was something she wanted to give.

Harry sighs and leans against her ear to speak, trying to hide the smirk that itches to form on his mouth when she relaxes at the touch, “That was amazing, Callie. You brought me to tears. You brought everyone to tears. That was fucking fantastic.” Caroline pulls her head away from his neck, his thumbs going beneath her eyes to wipe the mascara tracks that are forming beneath her lashes. “I’m so serious, Cal. That was better than I imagined it would be.”

And then, Caroline kisses Harry. Again. Caroline kisses Harry like she’s never kissed anyone before. The kiss is desperate and messy and saying things that neither of them could say aloud if they tried. Like, ‘I love you’, ‘Thank you for being here’, and ‘I needed you’.

Harry always says exactly what he’s thinking, though, and Caroline isn’t sure what to say back. “Caroline, I think I love you.”

Caroline is feeling so many emotions, so many thoughts are swirling around her brain, and the only thing that feels comforting is hearing those words come out of Harry’s mouth, even though they’re the most terrifying words that she’s ever experienced in her life. Harry said the words that Caroline thinks that she’s feeling, the ones that have been sitting heavy on her chest since they started getting close, since they shared their stories about their family and their friends and the way their minds words against them. Harry, too, has his mind working against him, sometimes, and Caroline has been there to see him through it. Caroline, although not nearly as worried about losing him as she was about losing her father, never left his side and saw to it that the feelings went away, and he would go back about his day. Caroline loves Harry. Of course. Caroline has probably loved Harry since before they even became friends that day at the beach. Caroline was, well, infatuated with him. Could Caroline say that to him in this very moment, though? Could Caroline say that aloud without absolutely ruining the things they have going?

“I, I.”

“Don’t feel like you have to say it back. It’s okay. I know you don’t feel that way about just anyone. I just, I want you to know that you’re not alone. That I love you,” Harry says hurriedly, grabbing her hand and squeezing it tightly to bring her attention from her shoes to his eyes. Harry’s eyes look pretty, right here, a glossy green that are shining beneath the stage lights. “Let’s go back to the hotel. Cal, we can talk there, privately. Okay?”

That’s the thing. Caroline loves Harry. Harry is one of her very best friends. Caroline just can’t say it.

Harry and Caroline go straight to the hotel, waving goodbye to all the celebrities trying to gather around her and speak to her and sharing a few words here and there, but ultimately, Caroline can’t handle speaking to anyone except Harry, in this moment, and saying exactly how she feels. Caroline owes it to herself, to Harry, to say how she’s feeling before she fucks everything up the way she always does, the way she knows that she will.

Harry walks inside first, holding Caroline’s hand, gently guiding her through the chaos that exists downstairs and around the hotel to avoid a panic attack before they’ve even gotten to the privacy of their room. Harry’s eyes flick towards the back of her dress, and Caroline moves her hair away from her neck to give him access to the zipper to bring it down her back. Her body shivers at the touch, and he offers a shy smile as she walks around the room and reaches for her pajamas without so much as glancing at him. Harry can tell that Caroline is panicking, and it makes him upset that he wasn’t able to avoid it with her. Harry has come to realize that some things are simply unavoidable with Caroline.

“I, I don’t think we can kiss anymore.” Harry turns his head away from the string of his pajama bottoms and looks at Caroline, who is standing with his oversized sweatshirt hanging loosely over her torso and nothing but a tour shirt – presumably – and shorts underneath. “I think it means something different to both of us and I don’t think we can kiss anymore. I’m sorry that I kissed you today. I shouldn’t have. That was stupid of me. I don’t want to ruin what we have.”

Harry doesn’t say anything for a minute, then two, then three, only giving a hum and standing from his seat on the lounger beside the bed, and Caroline knows by his hardened jaw and tense demeanor that he’s angry, or something is wrong, and she’s the reason. All Harry can say is, “Okay, Caroline.”

And like that, Caroline ruined everything for her and Harry. “I’m sorry, Harry.”

Harry doesn’t say another word to Caroline as readies everything for the night and gathers his things for the morning. Caroline was supposed to show Harry around New York City in the morning, her favorite city, before leaving for the airport, and if they want to be awake in time, they need to go to sleep. That’s what Harry’s telling himself, at least. Harry doesn’t want to admit that he’s heartbroken by Caroline’s words, that there wasn’t a small part of him that prayed that she would feel the same way as he does, that would want him in the way that he wants her. Harry has to justify everything to himself, the three stolen kisses over the course of their relationship, the hours they spent together talking and the studying and the growing closer and closer. Harry has to make himself believe that he was the only one to have feelings in this way, that everything he imagined in his head was make believe. Like Shakespearean Fiction – painful and heartbreaking.

“Are you not going to talk to me, now? Is that it? I try to avoid everything changing between us and you won’t even look at me. And after everything you promised me? That’s fucked, Harry.”

“All I need is a little time, Caroline,” Harry says frustratedly, looking away from his hands and staring at a heartbroken Caroline on the opposite side of the bed, the single bed that they’ll have to share, tonight. “That doesn’t change how I feel about you, how you’re one of my best friends.” Caroline can feel the tears slipping down her cheeks when he says those words, because as much as Harry wants to be angry, he can’t make her feel alone. That’s not who Harry is, anymore. “Come here, Cal.”

Caroline pulls the comforter away from the edge of the bed, climbing beneath the sheets and nervously circling her arms around Harry’s waist, his back propped against the headboard, his ankles crossed beneath the sheets as he wraps his arms around her body and brushes his fingers through her hair softly, nearly leaning down to kiss her head before stopping himself. Harry knows that everything is going to change from here on out, that nothing will be the same and everything will feel different, because Harry’s just confessed his love for Caroline and Caroline has rejected him in the worst way, by saying she’s afraid. Harry has done everything to make sure Caroline isn’t afraid, that she’s comfortable and safe around him, and if he couldn’t even make her comfortable as a friend, how could he ever do so as a lover?

“I love you,” Caroline says suddenly, barely above a whisper, barely audible to Harry’s ears. “I just think I love you differently than you love me.”

Harry doesn’t say a word, simply turning off the bedroom light and laying further into the pillows beneath his head, Caroline laying comfortably on his chest, his hands holding her tightly as though she’s going to disappear in the morning.

Maybe Caroline is. Maybe everything that they’ve worked for is going to disappear the second they wake, and they realize that they’ve made a grave mistake by kissing and sharing their feelings for one another. Maybe Caroline is going to disappear in the morning, disappear from Harry’s life for good.

* *

Caroline hasn’t heard a word from Harry since their journey from LAX, since New York, since he held her hand and she held the plaque for her father on her thighs and they talked mindlessly about how things have changed since their very meeting. Caroline thought things were alright, thought things were going to be okay. That’s how it felt, at least.

Caroline looked to Harry as she was getting out of the car, watching carefully as he took her suitcase from his trunk and walked it up the long driveway to her father’s house – that he somehow convinced her not to sell in the time being – and set it on the stairs leading to the front door. Harry doesn’t make the effort to come closer, to give Caroline a squeeze as he always does, simply smiling and waving and turning on his heel to walk back to his car.

Caroline shouts out, “Are you not going to give me a hug?” Harry turns on his heel again, walking back towards Caroline and opening his arms wide for her. Caroline rushes into him, breathing him in and soaking in the way his arms fit around her, strong and secure, that make her feel safe. “Harry, you’ll call me, right? You don’t hate me, now?”

“’Course not,” Harry says without hesitation, leaning his nose into her hair and breathing her in, a secret weighing heavy on his chest and his heart as he stands there. Harry can’t tell her. Harry can’t break her heart, like that. “I’ll call you soon, Cal.”

And Caroline waits five days for Harry to call. Five painfully long days. Five days and then Caroline is picking up the phone, ready to yell profanities at Harry around the world for ignoring her and leaving her to think that he doesn’t want to be around anymore. Caroline is ready. Caroline really is.

Caroline is ready; that is until three alarming beeps sound on the other end, and a devastating message plays through the speaker.

we’re sorry. you have reached a number that has been disconnected or is no longer in service.

𝚝𝚊𝚐𝚕𝚒𝚜𝚝: @goldenbabys-world , @burberryharold , @stylesfics-xx , @grace-ful-gold , @summertimestyles , @laur-sogolden, @yourhsficsplug, @morethanamelodyy, @truckerhatharry, @plzplzme2

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reckless--optimist · 3 years ago

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I’m bitter about Twitter and various entertainment news spoiling Euphoria for me every week so now that I’m watching it basically live I have no place to express feelings so hello welcome back to 2012. I’m just “livetweeting” here so spoilers are likely, but context is not.

FAYE YOU ABSOLUTE BABE I LOVE YOU. PROTECT MY BOYS.

I feel like Ash is an alternate timeline Shane Botwin. My little murder dude gotta protect his family.

Fez and Lexi are the cutest.

Can someone please slap Cassie then give her a massive hug. She needs it but also she needs to not hurt anyone else.

So I could obviously tell everyone was right about Kat’s screen time being basically none but I didnt and still don’t feel like her story this season betrays her. It feels awful to not feel the way you want to feel about someone, especially when that person feels so strongly. But her “role” in the play and now her “actor” did have a line that was literally nothing but useless comedic relief and I am mad.

I’m also mad about the other girl in their friend group who has literally no story. Who is she? Why is she always there? Why don’t we get to know her?

I really wasn’t prepared for Lexi and Cassie’s mom to be my favorite character this season but I love her.

Do not make Rue fall for Eliot’s song. I mean, he’s not doing it to be manipulative or anything but he and Jules already hurt rue and themselves by getting together we don’t need him and rue to do the same thing. Let them be really really good friends. They both deserve a good friend.

Rue my sweet baby. I hope she gets a chance to fix her friendship with Lexi.

Oh no I wish Fez had been there to hear that. Oh my god no. Fez no. I hate that I hope Faye takes the blame for this. They must find a way out of this. Oh my god I didn’t mean ash needs to find a way. Faye do something for ash. Holy shit why did Ash just age like 10 years. He looks so grown up all of a sudden.

Why are they flashing between this and Nate? Oh my god is Nate going to kill Cal? I appreciate that Nate grabbed a cup instead of drinking the strangers vodka straight out of the bottle. That girl was definitely sat there like that for the feet people and I’m uncomfortable. Neither one of these men deserve redemption. Please don’t give it to them. Cal doesn’t get to ruin so many lives because he couldn’t live with publicly being gay. Nate doesn’t get to abuse and harass people because he had a shit father. Oh wait. Nate you could have done that without a gun. You still don’t get forgiveness for the things you’ve done but at least you’re doing better things for now.

Oh god now back to fez. I don’t think Fez dies or gets arrested because Maude mentioned Fexi season 3. I hope they don’t kill Faye because she is a precious cinnamon roll who doesn’t deserve that. I’m worried for Ash but a lot of shows don’t kill kids. Best case scenario I think is that Ash gets arrested but with it being a murder (or technically 2) I think he would still be punished as an adult which would ruin his life but he’d be alive and Fez would have a good excuse to get out of the drug business for good.

Holy shit ash baby no. Oh my god Fez got shot. No. I don’t like that his card for Lexi fell like that. I’ve been telling myself all day this would be as bad as I feared but wow I think I was wrong. No.

No.

No…

This is not a good episode for someone who hasn’t received a real hug in months.

Is Fez’s grandma going to die without them? Don’t make him lose all his family.

Awww yay Rue and Lexi!!!

Out of everything that’s happened so far “do you ever get angry about it” is the line that turned me into a sobbing mess. Guess what. Grief isn’t linear. You’d think I’d know that after 15 years.

You gotta give all this shit a reason. While Rue’s intervention episode was powerful, this episode is really hitting the hardest since Rue’s special. It’s not in the drama, it’s in the reflection.

They broke their timeline with the play and it feels sloppy and confusing. They are too good for that. It doesn’t make sense for that conversation to have been in the play when she’s literally there because of the play.

I know Rue and Jules are like the backbone of the show to everyone but like don’t rush a weird reunion in the last few minutes. Ughhhh.

Okay, Jules shouldn’t have started with “I love you” even if she just meant friend love. I care about you and miss you would have said the same line without throwing Rue’s hurt feelings right back in her face. But wow I am so proud of Rue.

This end monologue is making me nervous.

A beautiful season.

Wait. Euphoria is loosely based on an Israeli show? That’s so cool.

Eagerly awaiting season 3 and hoping we hear about big improvements to how everyone gets treated on set.

#euphoria #euphoria spoilers

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be-ready-when-i-say-go · 4 years ago

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From: Cace, Jae, and Calum

Cace and Calum meet at a Christmas and for being in their mid to late twenties that’s feels right. But things change when a baby gets involved and Calum just wants his best friend to enjoy her time, especially at the holidays.

Female OC. Uncle Cal. Baby fluff. Enjoy!

Enjoy the Christmas 2020 Blurb Masterlist

Enjoy my full masterlist

Support me on Ko-fi. (Trying to put money together for textbooks next semester!)

__________________

Calum giggles mostly to himself, his index finger wrapped up in the fist of his nephew laying on his lap. Well, he’s not technically his nephew by blood but the bond is still all the same. Calum never misses an opportunity to show off his picture to anyone that will give him the change too. Jae looks so much like Cace it’s insane but he gets it now, all the comments he and his sister used to get, and even now. Calum met Cace only two years ago while at a Christmas party thrown by someone that he can’t remember. They found each other by fate, as Cace liked to say.

Calum had been nursing his one drink for only half an hour before flipping the switch, rather than sulking, he was going to enjoy himself. Nothing too far, or too crazy but Calum knew he was definitely going to need a ride back home and he was going to enjoy the night. And it was in that, going back for another drink that Calum tripped. Nearly face planted with someone caught him with a laugh. “Let me guess, you’re not normally this much of a klutz.”

He laughed in return, still holding onto the girls forearms. “Give or take.” His balance returned soon, but his hold never fell away. He wasn’t sure if he had seen her around before, outside of the party. She looked so familiar. But in the drunken cloud taken over his brain he couldn’t answer his own curiosities.

“Cace,” she states.

“Calum.”

“And you might want a water at least one before going for whatever else tickles your fancy on this spread.” She guided him towards the drinks and snacks and quickly tossed him a bottle of water. “Drink up, buttercup.”

“Thanks,” Calum said, watching her turn to head back to the depths of the dance floor. “Hey, Cace,” he called out. When she turned, eyebrow raised and head cocked to the side, Calum had a shot prepared, raising up into the air. “Oh, don’t make a man drink alone.”

Cace walked back over with a grin on her face. “You know it’s bad luck to cheers with water right?”

Calum’s sly grin never wavered and he pulls up a second shot prepared. “Just give me two minutes to finish this water and no bad luck for us.”

And that brought them to grabbing lunch on Cace’s breaks--while she’s no singer, she does know her way around a contract--hanging in studios, the two of them taking day trips to get away from the noise of the city. Calum would ask for advice and Cace, being a year and a half older, happily gives it. But for all the advice she can give, Cace’s track record in the dating department wouldn’t ever show for it.

Jae kicks a little but a grin lights up his face. Calum laughs, stroking a finger along his cheek. “Hey, hey, what’s got you all giggly?” Calum’s voice is soft. The couch dips just a little next to him and Calum looks over to Cace.

Her smile is soft but still clearly holds the exhaustion that she hasn’t been able to shake yet. “How long have I been out?”

Calum keeps a hand on Jae’s tummy before sliding back into the cushions. “Not long enough. You’re off Mum duty. Remember. Uncle Cal and Nephew Jae taking the world by storm--no mum’s allowed.”

Cace scoffs, pushing up to to glance at the clock on the wall. “By the looks of it, it’s been an hour and a half and you haven’t left my house.”

Giving Jae’s tummy a rub, Calum tries to hide his smile. “Little booger here preoccupied me.”

“Oh just admit it, he’s too stinking cute.” Cace stares down at her son, watches the way he giggles and coos at the tickle of Calum’s fingers. “Like really stinkin’ cute,” she states in a whisper. For the moment she tried not to think too much about how she could kill the son of a bitch that got her pregnant only to bolt--though Cace wasn’t sure she’d call it bolting. He had a line of women and as Cace steadily refused to give up her baby, he went onto the next.

“I know that murdery look in your eyes. You’re exhausted. That guy’s a dick. But you have a happy and extremely healthy baby boy. Take the day, Cace. You deserve it.”

Cace sits up, folding her feet under her. “I love my son. I just wish he wouldn’t have any pain.”

“Jae’s got Uncle Cal, and Uncle Ashton, and Uncle Michael, and Uncle Luke. We’re all he’s going to need--you’ll be there for his first crush and we’ll beat up bullies.”

Cace laughs, hand rubbing gently over Jae’s head as Calum rests Jaue against his chest. “I’ll be there to beat up bullies too.”

“I did say we,” Calum grins, the twinkling lights of her decor. Her living room’s already been decorated. He helped last weekend with that and even helped her put a tree. “You know what you need?”

“You already told me it was sleep.”

“In addition to sleep,” Calum starts. The tree’s beautiful. Cace always makes sure of that for Christmas. “You need Christmas photos in cheesy matching outfits with your baby boy and we’ll send them out to your family and make really bad Christmas ornaments and we’ll stamp Jae’s little hand on one and you’re going to enjoy this holiday season with your son and your best friend.”

“Do you remember the Christmas party we met at?”

Calum nods. “Of course I do. And this year will be the absolute opposite of that, but it’ll be good for you, Cace.”

There’s a moment silence. Cace studying the feature of Calum’s face and Calum studying the features of her. She notices the worry on his face, the way it pulls down his lips and makes his eyes dimmer. He notices the bags, but a certain bright spot in her eyes. “Alright, you’ve convinced me. Homemade Christmas ornaments and cheesy photos. I’ll go get dressed.”

“No, no, you stay home. Rest up. I’ll go out and get what we need. Jae can tag along. He gets a vote in the really cringe onesie I buy him.”

“Cal, c’mon. Jae gets fussy sometimes and in a mood. I don’t want you have to tackle that all on your own.”

“Cace, let me do that. For you. Just one day. I know Jae, when he gets fussy I check diaper first, try the bottle second, and if that doesn’t work. you taught me the swaddle. We’ll take five and I’ll make him a cozy bean wrapped in his mum’s smelling blanket,” Calum punctuates the part by tugging on the blanket Cace snuggled up with in her sleep, which admittedly she might be just a tad too big for, “and he’ll be fine. We’ll be fine.”

Pushing to her knees, Cace holds Calum’s cheek in one hand. Calum didn’t have to step in. Surely, there were better things to do than go with Cace to appointments and stay home on nights when she knew the guys were out. And he helped put together the nursery. He got the guys to help him too, but Calum would be on the receiving end of 7 am phone calls to fold baby clothes and lift packages into her house when she got too big to bend over or lift anything.

“You’re more than a girl could ever ask for, you know?”

“Good thing you didn’t ask for me.”

Cace rolls her eyes. “Yeah, no, I called it fate. But still, I appreciate you. For everything. It means a lot.”

Calum kisses her cheek. “You’re welcome. Now, text me what size you wear and then go back to sleep. Shower first. I can smell you.”

A chuckle escapes Cace’s throat. “That’s-that’s not me, Cal.”

“Oh, Jae, buddy.”

With Jae in a fresh diaper and the diaper backpack Cace keeps packed at all times on his shoulders, Calum straps Jae into the carseat he bought for his own car. Cace told him to just use the one she had, but Calum wanted one in his car, just in case he needed it for emergencies, for Uncle and Nephew days. His phone shakes in his pocket as he connects the last buckle into the middle. “All good? Snug in there?”

Jae’s on the verge of sleep, and Calum knows the ride will lull him right into the deep sleep. Calum responds to his own question. “Yeah, Uncle Cal, I’m snug as hell. Drunk of some milk. But, oh, boy, was it good.”

I wear a XL. Still have baby weight. Who knows if I’ll loose it all.

A sigh escapes his lips. Cace hasn’t let the baby weight fixation go. She lost some of it, but the last little bit was still holding strong. You know XL just means extra love, right?

What happened to the e then?

Xtra Love. It’s cool guy spelling. You look great. You had a baby. Give yourself some kindness.

Cool guy spelling for Cool guy Cal.

Yeah, something like that. It doesn’t shock Calum that she doesn’t respond to the other parts of his text.

Calum makes his first venture to the craft store. It’s the furtherest stop on the agenda today, so he heads there first. Jae sleeps the majority of that stop, even with all Calum’s wondering up and down aisle he doesn’t seem bothered. Calum gathers some popsicle sticks, glue, felt, glitter, various body safe paints, string, ribbon, and everything else he can think of. He knows it’s going to be a mess, but what’s Christmas without a little bit of a glitter bomb.

Jae sings, or as close to singing, from the backseat as the radio plays. At a red light, Calum glances back. “Huh, that was a nice nap you got in. Let’s hope your mum got the same.”

Calum knows by the parking lot this store is going to be a bit crowded and noisy. But it’s the first one he could think off that would family matching onesies. Calum figures instead of the stroller he’ll strap Jae to his chest. Hopefully that will keep him calmer seeing as the little guy’s still not totally a fan of a lot of noise. He does alright by prolonged exposure makes him just a tiny bit fussy.

It’s a good sign when Jae looks around, eyes bright. “Oh yeah, lots of new sights around here,” Calum states softly. The store is not as bad as he originally thought. There’s still a lot of people out and about but somehow they don’t seem to be all swarming the shopping floor. He can only imagine what the checkout line looks like, but that’s more of a worry for later--if he even finds the matching onesies.

The speakers overhead pump Christmas music through the store. Thought Calum wouldn’t call himself big on Christmas, he finds humming along, fingers brushing along the various fabrics as he weaves through the aisles and racks. Calum gets sidetrack on his way to the Christmas displays spying an intriguing button up--it’s black with a dotted pattern. Up close he can see there’s little snowflakes instead of actual circles.

He shouldn’t get it, but he finds his size and figures he’ll hold onto it and debate whether or not he’s going to give into the impulse buy. Returning back to his assigned course, Calum debates if he’s going to go for the reindeer onesies or if he’s going to go for the ones decorated in various trees. “Your mum’s going to kill me if I show up with reindeer onesies, but you’d be cute. Maybe death ain’t so bad.”

It takes a few minutes to consider all the options though, checking out what’s available in all the sizes they’d need. Calum catches the tiny whine Jae starts up with and soothing bounces him. “Okay, bud, I got it. I’ll be quick.”

Calum hopes death comes swift as grabs the reindeer onesies. Calum rushes over to the baby section. He knows without a doubt there are Christmas onesies hanging out. And sure enough, with only a two minutes search, Calum is able to grab Jae a matching outfit too and turns for the registers. On his trek, Calum does put back the button up--he doesn’t need it at the time being.

The line is long. Jae’s settled for the time being, but Calum knows it might not take much to set him off. The cashier’s seem to be working fast so Calum risks it. He steps into line with a deep exhale. The first couple of minutes is goes by without a problem. And he manages to inch up just a little. However, by the time they get halfway through the life, Jae’s earlier whines start back up.

Softy, Calum shushes him, running his free hand up and down Jae’s back. “It’s okay.” If this doesn’t work, Calum will just abandon the line and hope once Jae’s settle he can find the outfits again.

For a minute Jae seems to be settling and the line shuffles up again. However, they seemingly get stuck under/near a speaker hidden in a ceiling tile because the beef between Heat Miser and Snow Miser gets louder and that in turns sets off Jae. A cry spills from his throat. Not ideal, but Calum looks to see how many people are behind him--there’s only a few in front. But the sound of Jae’s cries tells Calum not to push it.

“I gotcha, I gotcha,” Calum whispers to Jae, turning and shimmying past the people in line. He mutters a few apologies and though, he would normally find the rack to place the clothes back on, Calum doesn’t want to take too long in case this is a diaper change cry.

“I know loud noises aren’t a favorite of yours, buddy. We’ll get somewhere quieter, promise.”

Free from the line, Calum shuffles to the bathroom. “Alright, let’s see what’s causing these tears.” It’s partially a diaper change. Though in a clean diaper, Jae doesn’t settle completely. “Hungry?”

It doesn’t hold interest. Calum tries a few other things before just resigning to the fact that it might’ve been sensory overload on Jae’s part. Calum drags Jae’s blanket over his shoulder and nestles him into it. Holding him close to his chest, Calum slips the backpack back onto his shoulder. “Okay, we can go chill out in the car. Try another store--hopefully less crowded.”

The cries haven’t completely stopped but they have faded. Calum doesn’t even glance over to where he stuck the onesies. They’re not important right now, an always be attained at some other point. Right on the mat that leads out of the store, Calum catches some voice shouting, “Sir!”

He doesn’t stop, assuming it’s someone trying to reach someone else. however, another, “Sir!” fills the air and Calum slows, turning his head. He doesn’t spot anyone at first, well not anyone that he recognizes are seems to be trying to get his attention but on a second pass over the faces, an older woman at the register holds up a bag.

“Me?” Calum questions, readjusting Jae quickly and tucking him more into his chest and neck.

The woman waves him over, before quickly turning back to the cashier. Calum steps a step forward, still unsure of what’s happening. He doesn’t know her. He thinks she might’ve been in the line either in front or behind him, but he doesn’t really know at all.

“Is-is everything okay?” Calum tries to see what’s in the bag and then mentally runs through his mind of what he could’ve dropped in line. All the bags from the craft store are in the truck. His phone and wallet are in his pockets, along with his keys.

“I should be asking the little one that,” she grins. Calum studies her face. He’d figure forties at the latest, two younger kids at her side. He wishes he did know her, then this would make this last strange. “Double check that these are all that you needed. Two adult onesies and then one for the baby, right?”

Calum’s heart nearly drops to his ass. “Wh-What?”

“Check that it’s all right,” she returns holding out one bag. The two kids hold bags of their own. “I don’t know if you were getting anything else, all I saw you put back were the onesies.”

“I-I can’t.” Jae wriggles in his arms and Calum sighs for a moment before bouncing him gently. “You really didn’t have to.”

“Well, now, I don’t have to do anything, you’re right. But I wanted too. I’ve been down this road. And the fact that you put your son above all, besides, it’s Christmas.”

Calum doesn’t even think to correct her thoughts on Jae instead he peeks inside the bag to see three outfits and a receipt. “Ma’am, really, I-I don’t know what to say. Thank you. I-I can pay you back.” Calum fumbles for a second to reach his wallet but she stills him with pat on his arm and a smile.

“No need sweetheart. Take care of that handsome one and enjoy your holidays.” With that, she takes a hand of each of the kids with her and then continues on past.

Calum watches her, unsure if it’s real or not. Unsure if he’s really living this. Someone, possibly a manager, comes down to the register he’s standing in front of. “Everything okay, sir?”

“I-yeah. Maybe a Christmas miracle?” he exhales facing them.

It’s another woman with a smile. “She’s a regular here. Does stuff like this all the time.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. The second you got out of line, she was on it trying to get the stuff you put down.” Lined on the front of the registers are a line of gift cards. No good deed should go without something good in return.

He grabs one quickly. “Can I put 50 on this?”

“Oh, yeah, sure.” The question clearly comes as a surprise. Calum knows by now in all his shock he’s not likely to find the woman in the parking lot. As the machine asks him to remove his card, Calum instructors them to use it for the next person in line.

“You sure?”

He nods. “Yes, I’m very sure. Thank you, for taking me.” He grabs the bag and hurries back through the door.

“You really bought reindeer onesies?” Cace sighs, peering into the bag.

Jae sits in a rocker nearby. The moment Calum got him into the car his nerves completely settled and he went back his is normal bubbly self. Calum gulps down a third of the glass of water. “I didn’t buy it. But yes, reindeers.”

“What do you mean you didn’t buy them?”

“The line was long and I got stuck under the speaker in the store. Jae had been getting a tiny fussy beforehand but the music was the tipping point. So I stepped out of line. Just as I got Jae mostly settled, I figured I’d take him out to the car let him completely reset basically before trying again to snag the clothes. A woman in line saw me leave with him and she paid for it. One of the managers or something said she does stuff like that all the time.”

“She what?”

“Yeah, she paid for it while I in the bathroom. I guess the line was moving faster than I thought but I didn’t want to just ignore Jae, so I just made the call to leave line.”

“A Christmas miracle,” Cace returns.

“Something like that. Did you rest well?”

“I didn’t wake up until you called and said you were on your way. So yes, much needed.” Leaning into the kitchen table, Cace uses her foot to add extra bounce for Jae. “I noticed there’s a second adult onesies in there.”

“Sue me. I wanted in on cheesy photos too.”

“Good thing phone cameras come with timers,” she grins. “Sticking around for arts and crafts too? I gotta feed Jae in another half an hour. Or am I still in Mum jail?”

“I’ll stick around. But you’re still in Mum jail, so that means I make Jae’s ornament--you sip on the non-alcoholic bubbly and gingerbread cookies you bought.”

“I do vote pictures first. Because there’s bound to be a mess.”

“Nah, it’ll be fine.” It can be that much of a mess, especially if Calum doesn’t bother with glitter.

“You say that now,” she laughs. “But if you think there won’t be a mess, be my guest. I’m going to sip on non-alcoholic bubbly, eat gingerbread cookies, and enjoy this show.”

Cace pops open the white grape sparkling juice and a fancy wine glass. Her second trip into the kitchen is for the tin of cookies--actually full of cookies--and settles at the kitchen table. She sits opposite of Calum’s ornament crafting setup. And it takes him until Cace has to feed and rather than fussing about with moving to another room, she drapes the privacy blanket over. The amusement is settled in deep on her face as she watches Calum try to sketch out his design.

“I will say, I’m glad you’re a musician,” she teases.

“Ya know what, not everyone can have a Dad who’s like a world renowned artist.”

“Tattoo artist, and trust me the drawing gene skipped me.”

Calum scoffs. “Then you’re talking a lot shit for a non-drawing-gene. But that does explain who you got into legal things.”

Her laughter is sharp. “Something like that. Though I think it might be more about me liking raining on some parades. Besides, who else can you call that will scare your team at just a name-drop?”

Calum points the pen cap in her direction with a nod. “I never suspected that you’d shake grown men to their core. But just the casual mention of you and you’d think they’d seen ghosts.”

Cace winks, readjusting the burping blanket. “I have that effect sometimes.”

“Can I burp him?”

“You’ve stolen my son!”

“Oh c’mon, I’m his Godfather.”

“You now Godfather Cal has a certain ring to it.” Cace turns down her mouth into a frown, dropping the octave in her voice, as she hoists Jae onto . “You come into my house on the day of my daughter’s wedding.”

Calum giggles at her impression but doesn’t push on the burping request. “I still prefer Uncle Cal. Easier to say.”

It’s as Calum can only watch the paint splatter onto the page does he immediately regret not taking Cace’s advice and taking photos first. Jae continues to hammer into the paint and thankfully, Cace doesn’t lose her head about messes. But Calum can only imagine what the green paint is going to look like against her yellow walls.

“Jae, c’mon, work with me,” Calum sighs, lifting his tiny hand and then presses onto the felt. “Your Mum’s going to murder the both of us. But very slowly.”

Cace gasps from the end of the table. “I can hear you you know! I wouldn’t kill either one of you. Just tell you I told you so, repeatedly. Until you’d wish I have of killed you.”

“Just be glad I decided against opening the glitter.”

“Why would you buy glitter, Calum?”

“I don’t know. I was in a craft store. I blacked out and when I came to, there was glitter in my basket.”Jae watches the exchange and slams a hand with paint onto the table. Calum’s sigh is audible and she watches him deflate in the chair. “It’ll come out I promise.”

“Or it doesn’t and I can forever mark that as the spot that Uncle Cal and Jae DIY’ed Christmas ornaments and when I’m old and nothing but skin and bones, I’ll pass the table onto him for his kids to make arts and crafts on and it becomes a legacy.”

Calum feels the wet hand on his chest through his t-shirt and cringes. Cace continues on. “Or what doesn’t come out is that stain on your shirt and you forever think twice about not listening to me. The pictures will be a story to remember. When my dad ask me why does Jae have a green nose and I tell him before pictures were taken he and Calum made ornaments and I advised ornaments second but Calum wanted to do that first and I scrubbed my son down as best as I could, but you know how green paint is.”

“You are not helping,” Calum whispers.

“Oh, no, I’m not. But you’re right. I needed Mum jail.” Her raised eyebrow and pointed sip from her glass tells Calum he’s going to be the one cleaning up and only him.

He doesn’t want her to be right. But even after ornaments are left to dry and he scrubs down Jae there is still a bit of residue, a hint of what color once took up residency on his skin that don’t completely fade reminds Calum to maybe listen to Cace since she’s the one dealing with a baby day in and day out. Though Calum would’ve liked to think he was a pretty good second. He’s there for a lot but there might be some things he hadn’t had to think through just yet on the whole baby front.

His t-shirt is ruined and the battle of baby vomit vs t-shirts should’ve warned Calum to not wear anything he holds too precious. But clothes are just clothes in the grand scheme of things. “You’re lucky you’re cute, Jae.”

Calum gets him into the onesie and settles him into the rocking seat to see what he can do about the wall. The table made it with very minimal damage and Calum’s sure with another passover the little that does remain will come out. Cace kneels on the floor, a bucket beside her and the sounds of scrub hits his hears. “Hey, Mum jail, remember,” Calum returns.

“Oh, I couldn’t let you suffer for that long without helping. I’ll probably have to repaint in some points, or I wait until he gets way older and just let whatever mess he creates exist and possibly turn it into some masterpiece.”

“You said the art gene skipped you.”

She laughs. “I did say possibly. As in an option.”

“I can help you repaint next week.”

“Wanna borrow one of my--what did you call it, an ultimate robe?”

“What are you on about?”

“Undershirt. I call them a white beater. You’ve got tons of them. You called it the ultimate robe in an interview once.”

“You said you didn’t watch those.”

“I don't normally. I saw a clip.”

“And you remembered from how long ago?”

Cace shrugs, dipping her rag into the water at her side. “Who knows at this point? You’re lucky I still remember my own name.”

The thing Calum’s learned about Cace is that’s it’s true. She can hardly ever remember things about herself, but she’s always got it together for those around her. And that’s why he pushed for her to take today--because she needed the time for herself. And even if it’s hard because of a baby he still wants to be the one there for her. He would always have her back. He’d buy cheesy matching onesies and hold bells behind the camera to get Jae to look up and he’d fake pose decorating an already decorated Christmas tree and he’d hoist Jae into his arms and tickle the little boy’s side and he’d take the most unflattering pictures of Cace only to make it up with the most flattering ones right after if it meant that at the end of it all, she knew he had her back.

Cace reclines into Calum’s side, Jae seated in her lap. The phone’s still counting down but she’s not worried about that. She looks up, watching Calum watching her. “I’m not the camera,” he teases.

“Nah, but you’re a close second.”

Calum kisses the top of her head, mostly aware of the shutter of the camera. “I’ll take that. Though I should be number one. Now actually face the camera once I set this up again.”

“No promises,” Cace laughs. Though she does look at the camera the second time. She can faintly see the slightly out of focus string lights on the trees. And inside the square it’s bound to be picturesque. There’s no walls with green paint or t-shirts ruined, or still open can of cookies that she absolutely thought she had covered and put back up. And maybe it’s okay if perfection only exist inside that square. And maybe it’s okay if her house is a mess and she’s a mess, and Calum’s a mess because at least she had the few people that cared around still.

********

Joy hadn’t anticipated seeing Calum’s handwriting on a letter just yet. His card usually came with him in person. But she doesn’t let the curiosity simmer too long and flips over the white envelope to pop the golden sticker holding it close. A beautiful white, gold and green card greets her, with Merry Christmas on it.

When she open the card, a couple photos slip down and she can see the black ink with Calum’s telling handwriting. She spies Cace and Jae standing in front of a tree, a decorating dangling in her hand. The second photo is Cace, Calum and Jae seated on the floor, smiling with the twinkling lights fading in the background. There’s a third of Calum and Jae too. All three of them matching with reminders antlers poking out from the hood of their pj’s.

The typography of the inside of the card is the same as the outside, Season Greetings. But just above it is a note, from Cace, Jae, and Calum. And then just below the standard greeting of the card is more from Calum.

Hi Mum,

I know this card normally comes with me attached but I didn’t want to forget to send these pictures.

I made Cace take a day and partially it was successful. Another part was disastrous. Disaster struck with paint and ornaments but I know you said you wanted more pictures of Jae too. These felt appropriate. He’s getting bigger, like everytime I blink he’s in a new size. I don’t know how Cace does it. How she just watches him everyday and doesn’t worry that time is moving too fast. Maybe she does worry and does her best just to focus on the day at hand. I don’t know how you did it with Mali and me. I’m sure it was the same thing--everyday just us shooting up with almost no end in sight. You’ll be happy to know Cace and Jae are doing well too. She started work again and takes him most days. Some days she drops him off at a daycare. He seems to handle it well for now. Soon, she says she’ll be dropping him off more than half the week at the daycare. So we’ll know for sure how Jae feels about that when that happens.

Send me some Oz summer. I wasn’t sure I was ready to jump into onesies just yet and even after this pictures, I still don’t think I am. Love you and miss you.

Calum.

#calum hood #calum hood fanfic #calum hood fic #calum hood blurb #calum hood fluff #h writes #h writes christmas 2020 #5sos #5sos fanfic #5sos fic #5sos imagine #5 seconds of summer #5 seconds of summer fanfic #5 seconds of summer fic #5 seconds of summer blurb #calum hood x oc #OC included

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tylerwritez · 3 years ago

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Hey guys its uhhh Saturday July 3rd 2021 9:53 a.m.

I literally got 1-2 hours of sleep •_• because I was up into the earliest hours of the morning talking to Jay and Ariel.

... Its homophobic that Jay was away /j :P and not in my room that night because... how do I say this without saying too much... he turns me on, simple. He's in LEDUC. DUDE. COME BACK I WANT TO FUCK YOU /HJ

I told him this before you guys, but my brain does this thing where it randomly sends me back to some memory and I have to live through the feelings yknow? And I twitch a bit. Well my brain has been sending me back to almost entirely memories of him now. And it's. Not even funny. My crush on him grows...

Oh well, I'm patient.

The forums last night were as usual, unhelpful. My dad looks at me as if I'm a tragedy, as if my skin is a crime scene, and we have a total of *drumroll* TWO COMMENTS! One of them was okay in helpfulness. They mostly just wanted to write about their tattoo cover up of their scars but. They were right about how you are the only person who gets to decide what you think about your scars.

If he thinks of me like that... doesnt mean I HAVE to think of my own self that same way.

So true.

Next person said maybe he doesnt think I'm damaged, maybe hes just gawking at the damage done to me?? And how he couldnt stop it?

And like isnt that the same thing honestly.

Oh hey, yeah I gotta tell you about TODAY. not yesterday or last night.

Well uhm I just woke up on my BEDFRAMELESS BED Cos they packed it and left me with the MATRESS xD (I wonder if this is their way of cockblocking me /j)

I got ready and uh I was told like, GET THE FUCK UP DUDE WE R GOING TO THE LAKE RIGHT FUCKING NOWWW

So I'm rushing 2 get ready... well not really rushing. I don't rush. I was getting ready. I go to brush my hair and theres NO BRUSH. ITS BEEN PACKED???? WHAT???

I did my best with what I had on hand and then we left

I'm in the car with my friend and annoying ass sister right now and I got music on

We got Tim Hortons (muffin + ice capp) for breakfast (already over my cal limit... •_• as if that's getting followed nowadays)

lol I dont usually eat breakfast tho so I'll try to skip lunch or have a light lunch, so it doesn't mess me up.

Right now as we are driving to the lake... it's mostly canola fields. Theres lots of canola grown where I'm from lol, just drive a little bit out and you'll see the fields and fields of bright yellow like millions of little highlighters sticking up from the grass. I cant make them out individually though... still waiting on those contact lenses.

Again, I'm patient.

I don't think we're super far out... I mean theres still lots of cars, signs, farms, roadside ads, trees, uh, shrubs, and if we WERE further out the land would be more bare... #grassland #praries #Alberta

Also the sun just makes everyhting look more alive.

Oh NOO IM DESCRIBING THE SCENERY... boring!

Idk. There isn't much to discuss, I'm just listening to music because I'm content with just that. If I come up with anything funny/Insightful(?) I'm gonna make a twitter draft.

10:17 a.m, signing off temporarily,

Judas/Jude Shepard.

4:25 p.m.

We got to the lake, talked, got ice cream, talked, went in the #water... lake stuff.

My friend was gushing over this guy and like... DILF. IF YOU SAW HIM... xD of course I'm just looking though. He just had big pecs which is attractive to me, and the overall build with these broad shoulders XD.

Tbh? I know me and Jay are TECHNICALLY not dating, but I feel like I'm dedicated to him. That's probably because of my crush on him but oh well.

I just keep thinking horny thoughts it's a plague within my brainnnnn and I know its his fault

I did end up asking him but by then he had already logged off so.... he'll respond soon and I gotta be ready. It appears that my mom is signing up for a Christian dating app... we'll see how that goes.

As for Jay's responding, I'll just tell him nevermind.

Anwyays we are headed back, possibly to the bookstore, possibly home.

I KNOW I talk a lot about the same things but that's because I'm infatuated with them.

I'm infatuated with... him.

I think of him in my mind and bam instant horny

I'll try to think of soemthing else,,, this is. Uh. Inconvenient right now.

I'll keep updating you though lol.

Hope I'm not annoying talking about Jay all the time.

I AM doing other stuff, I have a life. I just... I guess I unintentionally highlight certain parts a lot.

11:55 p.m.

IM EXHAUSTED GODDAMNIT MY DAD WAS MAD AT me...

... I wanted to ask to go to my friends house tommorowbut my dad is pissed at me for... closing my door??? dude omg hes like “what were you doing for two hours with the door closed” uhm reading? on my phone? jacking off? im a normal person lol. i said reading and on my phone which IS true and he said”sure...” all sarcastic WHAT AM I SUPPOSED TO SAY?? YEAH I JACKED OFF???? stfu

hes not even mad at me hes mad cos my mom is goign on a date lolDONT TAKE IT OUT ON ME STFU

I'm dead.

So I didnt ask cos I was scared shitless lmaooo but I have an appointment anwyays so it works out.

I just read a bunch of this comic called outcast. That's it really. Now I'm gonna sleep after I post to twitter a bit...

ALSO I asked Jay finally about uh. Yeah. Scarring. and he said beauty is in the eye of the beholder. He said I was hot but then he said that on the other hand it feels weird when he runs his hands over them, but in general, he loves me.

So he said "I don't care if you have scars or not, you're still you"

I love him honestly hes so supportive.

I admit I'm a bit sad thinking they feel weird but honestly? Yeah. They do. I felt up my leg where the scars are to check and it feels like hard ribs/ridges to the touch of a hand but he still thinks I'm pretty so I'm not gonna let the scars get me down. Cos I'm still me. It's just scars. Doesn't affect anything.

:,)

Also erin found a hagstone!!!

Gn,

Jude Shepard

#JudeJournals #judejournals

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shemarmooresfedora · 4 years ago

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Rebuilding Family

Summary: Y/N and Spencer were college sweethearts at Cal-Tech but once Spencer got accepted to the FBI Academy, he ended things deciding it was not fair to make Y/N wait for him. When they meet again years later, he discovers something unexpected.

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader

A/N: i hit 200 followers!! as celebration, i put out a list of 40 prompts and you can send me an ask with up to three and i will write a one-shot including them! i have already received one request and i’m already in the process of writing it but i would love to write more!

Masterlist

Chapter 23

You inhaled sharply as you sat up in the hospital bed. Spencer looked at you, concerned.

“The doctor gave you the option to stay here for one more night. Are you sure you want to be discharged today?” Spencer asked.

“I need to go home. It’s so boring here. I’ll heal quicker at home, I promise,” you whined.

“Scientifically, that’s not possible but fine. Don’t think for a second that I’m going against the doctor’s orders though. Bed rest for a week,” Spencer brushed the stray hairs off your face and placed a gentle kiss on your forehead.

“You’re no fun,” you pouted as he helped you into the wheelchair.

“I think Jo and Penelope have a little surprise for you waiting at home that will cheer you up,” Spencer smiled.

Spencer insisted on carrying you bridal-style through the front door because you couldn’t walk up the steps.

“We’re not officially married yet,” you teased.

“Oh hush, I’d keep you in my arms forever if I could,” he pulled you closer to his chest.

You snuggled into his cardigan that smelled like an old bookstore, “I guess I wouldn’t mind that either.”

Spencer slowly put you down and opened the door to your bedroom. Technically, it was you and Spencer’s shared bedroom now because he hardly ever used his bedroom now other than as storage for his things. Most of his clothes had already migrated to your closet and one of your bedside tables now had piles of books, a journal with chicken scratch, and his reading glasses atop it.

Inside, you saw Jo and Penelope holding heart balloons that said “Get Well Soon!” and a big teddy bear.

“Awww, thank you, my lovelies,” you smiled.

“I brought the mini fridge from my office so you are fully stocked with waters, juice, ice cream, fruit, whatever your little heart desires,” Penelope chirped.

“Thank you, Pen. You didn’t have to do that. I feel bad now. Where are you going to put your lunch?”

“Nonsense, my dear! There’s a fridge in the break room I can use. Don’t worry about me,” she assured you.

“And I made you drawings, Mommy,” Jo gestured to the walls of the room covered in colorful crayon sketches of animals, dinosaurs, trees, and people.

“Oh my god, these are so gorgeous, Jo! They are definitely going to help me get better, thank you.”

Jo hopped up on the bed to give you a hug.

“You’re welcome, Mommy,” she said as you planted a kiss on her head.

“Alright, I’m going to head out. Let me know if there’s anything I or anyone else at the BAU can do, literally anything, you just name it,” Penelope stated.

“Bye, Pen. Thank you so much,” you waved.

“Do you want soup? Spring rolls? Tea? What can I do for you, love?” Spencer eagerly asked.

“Could you please see if we have the ingredients for a cake for a special little 7 year-old?” you grinned.

“One cake, coming right up,” Spencer nodded, “Jo, do you want to help or stay with Mommy?”

“Stay with Mommy,” Jo grabbed the TV remote and curled into your side.

“Can you handle it?” you asked hesitantly, knowing baking wasn’t really Spencer’s forte.

“I will try my best,” he smiled, “And if not, I will go to the store.”

An hour later, Spencer opened the bedroom door, holding a chocolate cake with purple candles. He looked absolutely adorable, he was wearing your sunflower apron and he had flour residue on his nose.

“As promised,” he smiled, setting the cake down.

Jo was practically drooling as the cake was set in front of her.

“Hold on, I need to get plates and forks!” Spencer rushed out of the room and down the stairs.

“You better hurry. Jo looks like she is ready to just start eating it with her hands,” you laughed.

A week later, you woke up super early and jumped out of bed, dancing around a little in Spencer’s sweater, your PJ shorts, and fuzzy socks.

“Bed rest is over!” you cheered quietly to yourself, going downstairs to make banana bread.

Spencer came down fifteen minutes later as you were dancing around the kitchen to your music and whisking the batter.

“Bed rest is over,” you beamed as he came up behind you, tucking his chin into your neck and squeezing you softly, leaving a kiss as he pulled away.

“I love you,” he grinned.

“And I love you too...Spence, I was thinking…” you turned to face him after you put the pan in the oven.

“About what?” he asked, leaning against the kitchen counter with his mug of coffee.

“I don’t want to wait any longer. Can we please get married already?” you asked.

“Like now now?” he smiled softly.

“Like as soon as we can but still having a small ceremony so our friends and family don’t kill us for eloping,” you placed your hands on his chest.

“JJ and Will had their wedding in Rossi’s backyard,” Spencer suggested.

“Penelope did say if we needed anything, just ask,” you grinned.

Spencer already had his phone out of his pocket before you could say anything else. He dialed Rossi and put it on speaker.

“Reid, to what do I owe this pleasure on a lovely Tuesday morning,” Rossi spoke through the phone.

“Hey, Rossi. Y/N and I kind of have a big favor to ask,” Spencer began.

“Name it.”

Everything was a whirlwind after that. You decided Saturday evening would be best for the wedding so you and Spencer had exactly five days to coordinate your wedding.

Luckily, the team took care of most of the planning like the caterer and the set-up of Rossi’s backyard but you and Spencer’s opinions were still needed for everything from which flowers you wanted in your bouquet to what flavor of cake.

You and Spencer sat in bed one night criss-cross across from each other and you each had a little journal and pen in your hand. You both wrote your vows over the next hour. Spencer would occasionally look up at you, stare for a minute, silently smiling, and then continue jotting something down.

Spencer pushed up his glasses on the bridge of his nose and leaned over your journal.

“No peeking!” you rolled on your back, flailing your legs so he couldn’t get to your journal.

“Ugh fine, I surrender,” he laughed, grabbing on to your legs to stop your movements, “I guess I can wait 3 more days.”

He leaned down to kiss you.

“3 more days,” you repeated with a dreamy smile.

You and Jo met the BAU ladies at a boutique to get dresses for everyone. You had decided on a dusty blue for the bridesmaid dress color but you let them choose which style they wanted so everyone was matching but still got to decide which dress they liked best.

Jo was essentially given free rein in the children’s section of the store and chose a pale pink dress with a bow on the back that would serve as her flower girl dress.

After all that was settled, everyone gathered on the couch near the fitting room to watch you try on dresses, you had been saying from the start that you just wanted something simple. All the options in the store were overwhelming to you but the girls insisted you at least try on a little of everything to get a feel for it.

You came out in a huge poofy wedding dress courtesy of Penelope.

Jo burst out in giggles, “Mommy looks like a cupcake.”

“I think anything overly poofy is ruled out. I want to be able to pee without the help of 3 bridesmaids,” you walked back into the fitting room.

Next was a gown with lots of detailed beading and lace and a long train.

“I think it’s too much,” you sighed, “Plus, I don’t want to trip on this train while walking down the aisle,” you returned to the stall.

You walked out of the dressing room once more and everyone gasped.

“Oh my god,” Penelope was fanning her face to dry the fast-forming tears.

“Y/N, I don’t want to speak for you but I think this is the one,” JJ smiled.

The dress you were wearing was a white satin gown. It was a maxi dress with spaghetti straps and it hugged your hips but was loose around your legs so it was still comfortable.

“It’s perfect,” you smiled softly, looking in the mirror.

Jo hopped off of Emily’s lap and joined you on the little stage, still in her flower girl dress, doing a little twirl. You started to cry from all the happiness and pent-up excitement you were feeling.

“Hey, how’d it go?” Spencer asked when you got home.

You rounded the corner to the couch where he was laying.

“That good?” he asked.

“What?” you furrowed your brow, looking at him in confusion because you hadn’t said anything yet.

“You have remnants of mascara on your cheeks indicating that you were crying and that means you must have found the perfect dress because Jo is over there grinning like a fool,” Spencer smiled.

“You know you’re a retired profiler, right?” you teased.

“Mommy looked so pretty, Daddy! You wouldn’t even believe it!” Jo exclaimed.

“Oh, I believe it, Princess,” Spencer lifted Jo up on to his lap, “I know it’s against the rules for me to see Mommy’s dress but can you do a fashion show for me with yours?”

Jo nodded enthusiastically, running up to her room with the bag in her hand.

“Ready!” she called out a few minutes later.

“Now introducing your royal highness, Princess Josephine Y/L/N-Reid,” Spencer announced as Jo walked down the stairs, doing a fancy royal wave.

A/N: i absolutely can not wait to write the wedding chapter

#spencer reid fluff #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x reader #dad!spencer #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid #reid x reader #spencer x reader #cm fanfic #criminal minds

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pixiegrl · 4 years ago

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how ABOUT for the malum “I would’ve had breakfast ready, but you were sleeping on my arm, and I didn’t want to wake you.” :-) some soft morning cuteness love u

Mandie! Hilariously enough I wrote a Malum piece to this prompt back in August and this is a pseudo sequel to that. Please enjoy for @blackbutterfliescal and @devilatmydoor celebration for Michael’s bday!

On ao3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27625850

Michael goes to roll over and finds that he can’t. Opening his eyes reveals that it’s because Calum is sleeping on his arm. Specifically, he’s curled up, snuggling into Michael’s side and snoring slightly in his sleep. Calum has one arm thrown over Michael’s chest, face pressed into Michael’s neck. It’s making Michael overly warm, pressed this close, but he doesn’t want to wake Calum up and disturb him. Michael knows it’s his turn to make breakfast, has a whole plan for what to do that involves pancakes and the fancy espresso that Calum likes but he can’t be bothered to move when Calum’s like this. He looks sleep soft and comfortable, burrowed into Michael’s neck, Duke curled up behind his knees, Moose and South draped over their feet. It’s rare to get mornings like this, living in their own bubble of domesticity. Mornings like this make Michael think about marriage, about being able to live like this forever. Logically, he knows that he and Calum are forever, that they’re going to get married at some point (especially since their conversation before Luke and Ashton’s wedding) but sometimes Michael gets nervous. He gets worried that eventually Calum will get bored of him, his late nights and video games and stupid brain that gets a little broken sometimes and tells him he’s not good enough. Calum’s his best friend though, knows Michael better than he knows himself, always knows how to pull Michael back from the edge. He’s never tired of Michael in all the years that he’s known him. Calum is Michael’s rock, his constant, even when Michael’s at his worst. Calum is sunshine and light and Michael adores him.

Calum huffs, burrowing further into Michael’s chest. Michael snorts, reaching a hand up to play with Calum’s hair. Michael knows they need to get up, set to meet with Luke and Ashton, discuss band plans and tour breaks and the honeymoon they wanna take and trips back to see all their families. Michael knows they’re going to be running late if he doesn’t wake Calum up but he doesn’t have the heart to. Calum looks so peaceful like this, curled up with the dogs. It seems a shame to walk Calum up.

Michael allows another few minutes of Calum curled up before he checks the time and realizes that they need to get up now or they’ll be really late.

“Cal. Sweetie, you gotta get up,” Michael says, jostling Calum’s shoulder. Calum mumbles, stirring and opening his eyes.

“Don’t wanna.”

“We have to get up to meet the guys.”

“Too comfortable.”

“Well, my arm is asleep.”

“Hmmm. What about breakfast?” Calum says sleepily, turning his head to look at Michael.

“I would’ve had breakfast ready, but you were sleeping on my arm, and I didn’t want to wake you.”

“Sap. Now I have to get up and make breakfast.”

“Hey! I help!”

“No you don’t. You distract me,” Calum says, rolling his eyes and pushing himself up in bed. Duke grumbles his protest at the shift in position, moving away and whining. South perks up, realizing that Calum and Michael are awake, bumping against Michael’s hand until he starts to pet him.

Calum rubs at his eyes, stretching and popping his back slightly before rolling out of bed. He turns to look at Michael.

“I’m going to make pancakes. Maybe I’ll let you have some if you come help,” He winks, making his way out of the bedroom. Michale sighs, heaving himself out of bed and following after Calum, dogs close at his heels.

They fall into their easy routine, a simple dance around the kitchen as they gather the supplies they need for their meal, finding their pancake mix and chocolate chips and coffee. Calum starts the espresso machine, grabbing the pan he uses to cook while Michael fills the dog dishes, making sure they have enough water while they’re eating.

Calum hums while he starts cooking, mixing the batter and spooning some out into the pan, watching it cook. Michael comes up behind Calum, looping his arms around his waist and resting his head on Calum’s shoulder while he cooks.

“See? You are distracting,” Calum says, teasing in his tone. Michael giggles, pressing a kiss to Calum’s cheek just to have him swat halfheartedly at him. Michael laughs, trying to plant more kisses on Calum, dodging each of his attempts at smacking him. Eventually Michael retreats, lest the pancakes burn, and goes about managing the coffee, pouring it into their favorite mugs and getting the milk. Calum finishes up the cooking, grabbing the plates and taking them to the table, where Michael has set out the silverware and syrup.

They settle into eating, quiet as they chew, dogs coming to sit at their heels to whine for little bits. Michael watches Calum, lit up by the glow of the early morning sun through the kitchen window. It bathes him in light, makes me look ethereal and suddenly Michael gets it when Ashton calls Luke golden and Apollo and the sun. Calum is Michael’s sun, the center of his universe. Even when Michael is unsure of himself, he’s always sure of Calum, steady, resilient Calum. It overwhelms Michael suddenly, the love and devotion he feels for Calum.

“Marry me,” Michael says. Calum chokes on his next bite of pancake, coughing as he reaches for his coffee, chugs some of it, still coughing.

“What?”

“Marry me, Cal. I love you. You’re my soulmate, you’re literal the other half of my soul. You know every part of me, the good, the bad, and all the mundane shit. You remember my favorite candy, where I leave my glasses, the last time I drank water. You know me in ways I don’t even think I know myself. I’ve known you were forever since the day we met and I don’t want to wait any longer. Let’s get married,” Michael says. Calum sits there, blinking at him. Dread feels Michael. Maybe he’s misread all of this.

“Fuck you Michael I wanted to do it first.”

“What?”

“Propose. I wanted to propose first. I even bought a ring and I had a whole plan. I was waiting for our anniversary. I had a whole thing planned with a song and photos and a whole thing. You can’t propose first what the fuck am I suppose to do now?” Calum says, brandishing his fork rather aggressively in Michael’s direction.

Michael registers what Calum’s said, face breaking out in a grin.

“Oh, so you will marry me?”

“Absolutely not. Where’s my ring for starters?” Calum says, grinning. Michael rolls his eyes.

“Well I don’t have one. This was spur of the moment.”

“Not real until you get a ring. Means I still have a chance to propose first,” Calum takes a bite of pancake, raising his eyebrows at Michael.

“No, this totally counts. I asked you to marry me.”

“Sorry, I actually have a ring, so I will be proposing first it seems.”

“Not if I go buy a ring today.”

“Well, now I’m not letting you out of my sight. And don’t even think of getting Luke or Ashton involved. You know Luke’s shit at keeping secrets and Ashton likes me the most,” Calum points out. He’s smiling widely enough that it looks like he has dimples, eyes crinkled at the corner in delight.

“If you’re so keen on proposing first, why don’t you?”

Calum balks, “I have a whole plan. For our anniversary.”

“Since I’ve clearly messed it up, do it now. Our anniversary is in a month and I’ll be expecting it now. You can do your whole plan then and we can publicly announce it to everyone, but I want you to do it now. Just us,” Michael says. Calum pauses, chewing on his lip. He sighs heavily, pretending to be put out as he stands up.

“Close your eyes.”

“What?”

“Close your eyes till I get back. At least give me something,” Calum says, rolling his eyes. Michael does the same thing, but compiles, closing his eyes. He listens to Calum’s footsteps as they leave the kitchen and again as they come back. They stop at the edge of the table and there’s a pause before Calum clears his throat.

“You can open them now.”

Michael does. Calum’s down on one knee, small velvet box open in his hand, putting the ring on display. It’s a gunmetal grey, black gemstone resting in the center, glittering. Calum looks a little teary, staring up at Michael and Michael can feel his own tears at the corner of his eyes.

“Michael, you’re it for me. You’re the light of my day, the other half, my soulmate. You never fail to fill me with happiness, to brighten my day. I can’t dream of being anywhere else, loving anyone else, the way I love you and getting to share my life with you. I love you and I want to marry you. Even when you keep me up at night with your video games and your cold feet and your terrible sleeping habits. Michael Gordon Clifford, will you marry me?” Calum says, holding the ring up. Michael feels like he’s choking, tears at the back of his throat. All he can do is nod, letting Calum slide the ring home on his finger, pulling him up into a kiss.

“I win,” Calum says against Michael’s lips.

“Dork. Maybe I’ll get you a ring anyway, propose on our anniversary and steal the spotlight,” Michael laughs. Calum snorts.

“Guess we’ll just have to be dorks together forever.”

“Guess so,” Michael says, pulling Calum onto his lap and snuggling into him. He doesn’t care that he’s technically lost the engagement game. He can still propose on their anniversary, put it up publicly first. Michael looks down at his ring, smiling when it catches the light. As long as he can marry Calum, he’s happy.

#5 seconds of summer #malum #michael clifford #calum hood #theres another proposal #big surprise all #my writing

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9r7g5h · 5 years ago

Text

I have come to the conclusion that none of this happened. Liam properly hid his magic, Amethar was crowned Emperor and quickly set up a council to run the country, and everyone's alive and dandy. Caramellinda was called to come join her husband, and she's able to get over her mistrust of the outside world to join up with Primbalina to become an awesome duo ruling the country, with Amethar as their front and hype man.

Jet and Ruby stay in the capital with their parents for a bit longer, during which Jet and Anabelle begin a whirlwind romance. It doesnt start that way, it starts as just hero worship from Jet and Anabelle agreeing to train her, but they spend more time together and become closer and closer until one day Anabelle pins Jet against the wall with her sword, and one second they're trading barbs about how the other fought, and the next they're making out in the otherwise empty room. They make no promises, come to no agreements, and dont even talk about things for a long while, only having fantastic make out sessions after each training.

Ruby spends her time secretly learning magic from Theo and Lapin and even Liam, soaking up everything she can. When her sister goes off for her "training sessions" (which she totally knows is just code for making out with Anabelle. She's slightly jealous, because she did technically see Anabelle first, but overall she's just glad her sister is happy), she wanders around the capital with the Tart Guard in tow, looking for something to keep herself entertained. She eventually finds a performance troupe, and finds herself falling into her own kind of love. Both with the physics defying stunts the performers are doing, and with a young fructarian, a non-binary peach. The two of them become close friends, the romance that will blossom between them on the slower side, especially because of their differences in status. But Ruby is second in line, and she's happy with taking her time, just excited to see their smile and feel the warmth of their hand in her own.

Liam is always so confused about what he's supposed to be doing on the council, and half the time he just accidently offends people. It doesnt help that he gets another letter from his brothers, claiming that he's fully turned against the family by joining their enemies. But he like Amethar and Jet and Ruby more then his father and brothers, so he just shrugs and waits for someone to tell him what to do. And after a long talk with Caramellinda, they figure out the perfect position for him - Master of the Harvest. Usually a position that goes towards one of the more plant based people, its agreed upon that his knowledge of seeds, of all types, greatly surpasses those of many others, especially for his young age. So he's given a group of guards who understand the magic of druidcraft (which Brennan did say was allowed) and sent off on missions to inspect the crops from each region, returning frequently with reports and his bag full of seeds to show off to his favorite cousins. He has a brief engagement with Primsey, but she's too in love with her lost beu, and he's honest with the fact that he doesnt want to have sex and so wont be able to give her kids. She fully accepts that, and they still stay great, amazing friends. He's always welcomed in her home in the Dairy Islands. Eventually, while it's just him and Preston and his guards for a long while, he does find a kindred spirit in a meat person, a Turkey druid who also doesnt want romance or sex but would love to be held and loves seeds. They strike up a very quick friendship, and soon become the closest either will ever be to a couple. Best friends, traveling the world to look at seeds, holding hands cause they're both aro ace and dont care if people think they're gay.

Lapin manages to keep his secrets from the world at large, though his companions all know the truth, eventually. He works in secret to undermine the Bulb, and allow other religions to sneak their way into being acceptable again. It takes a long time, but eventually he succeeds, in a fashion. The Bulb is still seen as the supreme god, but the Sugarplum Fairy and the Carnivorous Creatures and all the others we dont know about are more seen messengers of the Bulb. Holy in their own right, fighting against The Hungry One in their own right, made of and from the Bulb, if not the Bulb themselves. The true believers of these other religions just roll their eyes and nod, but hey - its progress, and the magic granted by these other beings slowly beings to sink back in and return to Calorum. Lapin is able to eventually relax into his true passion - arguing with that dumb brute of a body guard and teach the future children.

Speaking of the brute, Theo continues to enjoy his job. He loves being a guard, loves training other guards, and when they're still at the capital, he loves training Ruby and Jet. When they're gone, he throws himself into training everyone else, and honestly enjoys himself. He is a war guy, though he's fully adapted to peace, and is just happy to see how the word continues to prosper. When he's not working, he fight with Lapin, drinks and plays games with Amethar, and goes on long walks with Sprinkle. He's an old man, gets to be Lapin's age, though their advanced ages doent stop either of them from constantly going at each other, and just enjoys his life in the capital. He sometimes regrets not having his own family, but the remembers that he does, they're just named the Rocks.

Going back to where we left off the Rocks, rules of Candia, soon enough ways must be parted. Liam's gotten used to saying goodbye to Ruby and Jet, so when its decided that Jet must return home and take up the mantal of Queen, its not hard for him. It is for everyone else, though. Theo is torn about letting this little spitfire go home alone, and Lapin is sure she needs at least another decade of schooling before she'll be ready. Caramelinda is of the same mind, and would go back to continue ruling instead if she wasnt so integral to ruling the rest of the world. Amethar is sure Jet will do fine, she's great, but this is his little girl. He's had to leave a few times, yes, but she's never had to leave him. It's hard.

And Ruby. The two talk for a long, long time, but eventually decide to part ways. Just for now, of course, nonetheless, they have different paths to walk. Ruby is starting a life here in the capital, with their parents and her peach datemate, and it really seems like the circus thing is going to stick. And in court, the few times she's sat in on a meeting, she's been able to provide the common point of view, which has been severely lacking. She likes being helpful, in a non-stressful kind of way. And so, even though she knows Jet needs to go take her place as Queen of Candia, she wants to stay.

And Jet is hurt, because she's the only one in the family who has to leave, and she at least thought Ruby would come with her. But, instead of trying to force her, or find a way to stay, Jet, instead, hits the books. She begins searching through everything she can, putting off her return one more week ("I guess Cal has a decent hold on things for the moment," Emperor Amethar agreed when she told him her plans) to find what she needed. And what she needed was a long distance messaging spell, that Lapin helped to modify. A tether between the two, one they could open at any time, to allow them to speak to each other whenever they wanted. A twin messager, if you would, that allowed them to always be with each other.

That done, Jet said her goodbyes to her family, and went to say her lost goodbye to the woman who has stolen her heart. Only to find her gone, Captain Anabelle Cheddar's ship having set sail in the middle of the night. She kept a straight face, though the moment she was on the road, alone besides the Tart Guarda and the Imperial Soliders her dad had sent with her, Jet opened the channel with Ruby and cried.

It was a rough week of traveling. Not because of any danger, no, it was smooth on that front. But because for the first time in her life, she was going to be alone. It was easier, having Ruby to still talk to, to pass along messages to their parents and friends, but still, it hurt to not have an actual hug when her heart was breaking.

It hurt so bad, she didnt notice the strange ship at port when they passed through their one town that accessed the ocean, only a day's meep ride away from the castle. She didnt notice the strange visitors who joined the crowds there to welcome her home – she was so focused on keeping an excited face.

She only noticed when she entered the throne room, calling for Cal, the only adult figure currently in her life who could give her a hug and promise everything was going to be ok.

Only then did she notice Captain Anabelle Cheddar, playing with a knife as she sat on her throne, ignoring the guards who were trying to scold her. Anabelle, who looked up as Jet entered, and greeted her with a giant smile, welcoming and excited to see her. Anabelle who stood, walked over, and pulled her into a long, deep kiss.

Both of them would soon come to reconsider their positions on marriage, if they could marry the woman next to them. Lapin would get to work, poking and prodding the church to make it allowed, and with Amethar blessing this union, they made it work.

And Amethar? Being Emperor was hard, though less so with support. He learned how to show Caramelinda that he appreciated her, learned how to be a better husband and kind, learned what his actual duties were to the people under his command. Something he should have done a long time ago, but just hadn’t had the will to do so. But now everything was in his court, literally, and he had to do what was right.

And he fell back in love with Caramelinda, all over again. They had been in love before, back when he was fifth in line, before the war. But then time and distance had parted them for so long, and he had fallen for another, a young woman from the Dairy Islands. They had met, married, had their wedding night before war had once again parted them. He finally sat down with Jack, and got the full story – a bit over a year later, the young dairy woman had married a young farmer, they had had children of their own, and a decade ago she had passed from some cheese illness Amethar couldn’t even pretend to understand. He was sad, but was glad that she had had a good life, since he had loved her, in the way that death and violence and needing someone to be there grew a kind of love.

But that was done now. Not gone, but like a closed book, and with that closure, the part of Amethar that had been resisting the life he now had felt a little bit more settled. He still hated every bit of being king, still played hooky with Cal when he visited from being Candia’s advisor or Theo whenever he could, but he tried. He showed Caramelinda how much he appreciated her, and actually finally learned how to read, and figured out names and stations so he could help make the world a better place, and it was worth it.

It was worth it to fall back in love with Caramelinda, to actually feel the flips in his stomach that she used to give him, back before when he was young and before war had broken something inside of him. It was worth it to see that smile of hers, and know that she was feeling it too, the love they had both wanted and struggled for for the last twenty years. It was worth it to kiss his wife and actually be happy.

And damn it, if Gustav’s last prank was to make him responsible for the entire world, then at least he was by the side of the best of wives and best of women, Caramelinda of the house of Rocks.

And it was worth it, in the end. It was worth it to help Lapin out whenever he could, slowly reshaping the church so it better fit the world they were making. It was worth it to watch Theo train the next generation of guards into a fighting force that almost surpassed himself, guards loyal and loving and just as kind and as great a friend as Theo was himself. It was worth it to see Liam grow into a confident young man, sure of himself, instrumental in helping to ensure the continent was properly fed. It was worth it to watch Ruby become a master performer and spy, passing on the commoner’s thoughts of him and his empire so adjustments could be made, so the masses could be protected and cared for and satisfied without fear. In fact, many sought out Ruby, knowing she had the Emperor’s ear, and could pass on what they were scared to say to his face, for even though he was a good, kind ruler, a fear of rulers still existed. It was worth it to see Queen Jet and Queen Consort Anabelle rule his old home with kindness and love, their union having strengthened the Candian alliance with the Dairy Islands.

It was worth it, as age crept in, to sit there, holding hands with the love of his life, watching as a chocolate milk girl wrestled with a cobbler boy, all while two little cheesecake children slept in their laps. It was worth it to lean over and kiss Caramelinda’s cheek, to see the love pouring from her as they watched over their grandchildren, knowing that soon their friends and the rest of their family would be in one room again, and that none of them would ever have to be war people. It was worth it to know that, because of their efforts, all they would know was peace, and if the most these children ever became was a ruler, or a performer, or a knight, or a warlock, or a seed guy, all because of their efforts?

It was enough.

Except for poor Thad who, as far as they knew, was still in the alley.

#Dimension 20 #Oops I wrote a fanfic #A Crown of Candy #Happy endings for everyone #I was sad and then I made myself feel better at the sacrifice of sleep

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welcometothebookreport · 4 years ago

Photo

Weekly Wrap up: 12/20/2020 - 12/27/2020

It’s the end of the first week here at this blog, though technically it’s only the second day that we’ve been live. On Sundays, I’ll be posting weekly wrap-ups with what I’ve been reading all week, my thoughts, and hopefully a graphic that I’ve spent too much time on. At least that’s the idea. School may not allow for blogging much, but I’ll wing it when I get there.

In case the graphic doesn’t load, everything is mentioned down here again so there’s nothing to miss! Keep in mind, there will be spoilers for titles mentioned below the line, and also please do not spoil me if I’ve mentioned that I’ve not finished it yet. :)

This week I read...

In A Holidaze by Christina Lauren

This Time Next Year by Sophie Cousens

Serpent & Dove by Shelby Mahurin

Red Queen by Victoria Aveyard (in progress)

In A Holidaze by Christina Lauren

Rating: 5/5

Warnings: no hard warnings. This is a very light read.

Thoughts about this book

I picked this book as part of my December box for Book of the Month Club and I almost didn’t read it this month at all. After finishing Serpent & Dove though, I decided that I really wanted some holiday cheer since I didn’t have any. It’s a good thing I did because this ended up being my favorite read of the year, and right at the final buzzer too.

Our protagonist, Mae, ends up in a time loop when she makes a stray wish to the universe: Show me what will make me happy. I had my doubts about whether I would like the plot since it seems a little silly, and I wanted something with some substance. Pleased to admit that I was wrong about all of my thoughts at the beginning. Thing is, this book is silly. In fact, it’s downright hilarious and I laughed out loud so many times I lost track. It’s also serious in the right spots, but really it’s a tender story about getting your one true love. However, it’s not only a love story.

It takes a while for Mae to throw caution to the wind. Approximately two return trips to the plane (with a courtesy whack to her brother’s face, actually) in, Maelyn Jones decides that none of this matters because she’s just going to start over anyway. In a fantastic outburst, she barks at her dad not to eat the cookie (he’s going to break his tooth on it), and a slew of other orders because she’s so fed up with it all. Then we see this woman start living when she hasn’t been, and to be completely honest, you don’t even realize it’s happening at first.

She doesn’t realize it either.

Andrew Hollis is the older brother of Theo (and Theo’s been carrying a torch for Mae, it seems) and also the brother Mae has spent years of her life pining after. They’re wicked close, wondrously hilarious together, and by the end of the book - No. By the time I was a quarter of the way through, I was pretty sure I was going to be in love with him too. Half-way in, I knew I was.

I could go on and on about this book, but I’m going to spare you because a) I need to learn to be more concise with reviews and b) I really want you to read it and see if you love it as much as I did.

The Funniest Moment for Me:

I simply cannot pick one moment, but if I have to, I plucked the one out of my head that I thought of first.

When they were kids, Mae painted their initials on the bottom of a mug. The full thing of MJ + AH and it’s adorable. Later, Mae admits it to Andrew, and he holds it up to the light in an equally adorable way and realizes that he can still see it, even though it’s been painted over.

Favorite Scenes

I’d like to say the entire book, just for the record, but I can’t. Or can I? I kind of make the rules for my own posts, don’t I?

Every single moment spent in the boathouse, even the ones that made my eyes water. They’re so perfect together, and I just love this couple, and this story so much I can hardly begin to explain it.

What I learned from this story:

Mae is stuck in a rut. In a job she doesn’t love, living with her parents, and without the love life that she wants. The shift in her is a dramatic one, and you have to root for her. I know I did because I saw too much of my own traits in her. A job I don’t love anymore, a position in life I don’t want anymore, the list goes on.

Mae didn’t need the great love of her life to change everything, but she starts knocking down walls, and starts taking everything she wants. She tells the truth (that she has feelings for this man, that she hates her job,) and she tells Andrew. She quits her job in the twenty seconds of bravery that she’s always had, but has just unlocked.

So, if there is something to take away from this, it’s that you’ve just gotta go for it.

This Time Next Year by Sophie Cousens

Rating: 3/5

Warnings: Therapist Sessions, Mention of Miscarriage, A Garbage Parent, Depression, and Anxiety. Please mind that these warnings are for mentions inside the novel as well, and not necessarily something that happens to either of the leads.

Thoughts:

This one was part of my November box for Book of the Month Club! I decided to read this since NYE is right around the corner, and bam, this one happens to open on NYE.

I enjoyed this book. It was a fun romance, but it was more than that too. Minnie Cooper believes in a New Years jinx that started the night she was born, when her mother helps another woman through labor and delivery, and this woman wins a prize for the first baby born. Not only that, this woman takes what was meant to be Minnie’s name: Quinn.

Listen, the joke Minnie Cooper was funny for about twenty pages before I really began to hate it. The book is over 300 pages. It’s one of those things I could deal with, but never really got past because it annoyed me so much. Moving on!

A chance encounter leads to the meeting of Quinn and Minnie at a birthday party on NYE. As you can guess, it’s a party for Quinn. There are several encounters between these two through the book, and each one of them left me wanting to get to the next one.

The main storyline is told in a linear fashion, but there are flashbacks from both characters too. At first, you may not realize that these two have met before. Or maybe you do realize it and I’m just so oblivious it hurts. Probably that one.

I liked the romance, but what really caught my eye was the issues raised within the book. One character regularly attends therapist sessions in an effort to help themselves, in an effort to get better. The terrible issue of miscarriage is brought up (but this does not happen to either of our leads, but is still important!) and then we are living through a year in the life of these characters as they try to find what makes them happy.

I liked this book, but I didn’t love it. It ranked as a ⅗ for me for a few reasons. I wanted more development. The romance felt a little lacking in some spaces, and I’m not sure if that’s because I had just finished In A Holidaze the day before, but it felt lukewarm to me.

I appreciated the issues raised, and mostly enjoyed the way they were handled, but I wish some of them had been expanded on. I wasn’t a fan of brief time skips (where they could be a few months at a time) because it felt like a hole in the plot.

Minnie Cooper. It’s hard to get into a story where I dislike the name so much.

I just did not enjoy a part of the book that involved Minnie, her best friend Leila, and the proposal for Leila from her boyfriend that Minnie helped plan. It was meant to be funny, but it was more cheesy and it fell flat for me.

Serpent & Dove by Shelby Mahurin

Rating: 5/5

Warnings: Misogyny, violence in parts, religious zealots (in case that’s something that makes you uncomfortable like it did me), derogatory slurs toward women.

This one has been on my TBR for a long time, and I finally dug into it. From the first day of reading, I was not sure I was going to finish it. Religion plays a central focal point to the plot of the first book, and one of my friends told me to press on, because it’s not as prevalent in book two. I don’t know about that yet, because I haven’t read it.

I have so many pages marked in this book for how much I loved it. Truly. Lou is witty, quick to snap, and Reid’s character development is something I’ve marveled at. Going in, I knew there would be a forced marriage, but I wasn’t at all sure how it would come into play. I have to admit, it was a pretty creative way to go about it.

Watching these two characters orbit each other, with each of their harsher exteriors beginning to come down has to be my favorite part, and the main reason I pressed through the parts that creeped me out.

Reading Reid say the word fuck was a highlight for me. I have so much to say about this one, but I’m planning to write a proper review, and to show my annotations, so I’ll save that for another day!

Red Queen (Red Queen #1) by Victoria Aveyard

Warnings: None that I’ve seen yet.

Rating: too soon to tell

This is a book club read for my friends and I. It’s taken a bit for me to get into, but these are some of my notes up to where I was last night at page 93.

It’s quite interesting, and books set in a dystopian world have never held my attention well. So, I’ve been struggling to really sink into it versus how well I fell into Caraval.

The main character is beginning to grow on me more, and I’m curious to learn more about Cal and Maven. I’m certain that Cal is going to break my heart (don’t tell me if he’s going to) and also what will happen with Kilorn now that Mare will no longer be living in Stilts.

I’ll finish it in the next couple of days, so hopefully I’ll have really grown to like it by next week’s post.

What about you? What have you been reading this week? Sorry this is so long too. Eventually I’ll learn how to be more the point because nearly two thousand words is kind of embarrassing.

#kelseyreads #weekly wrap up #red queen #serpent and dove #in a holidaze #young adult reads #adult romance #this time next year #christina lauren #sophie cousens #shelby mahurin #victoria aveyard

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randbwrite · 4 years ago

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La Comtesse Chronicles Chapter 5 Part 2

Words: 1467

CW: Vampires

TW: Blood

The flight was unlike anything either had ever experienced. It was a marvel, seeing the world from a new perspective. Who can put it into words? Or paint a masterpiece capturing just how small and insignificant one feels when seeing how small they were in the greater scheme? Yet every life they passed over would continue on their way, utterly oblivious to the circumstances of their world at large. Inspiring and humbling simultaneously.

It also made for a splendid distraction from what would be waiting for them, or Cal in particular.

He was used to people hating him; really Derrick was the only person who’d so much as tolerated the scoundrel, with his own mentor ready to strangle him after a few years. The Citadel may have been a death trap waiting to happen, but he knew every inch of the place and how to survive it. This whole experience would be brand new...and they’re all vampires, he assumed. Ones who knew what they were doing with their abilities, if the two he’d seen on the battlefield were any indication.

Frak it all, get a grip! Since when did he fret about new adventures? He was constantly going into dangerous situations, usually with the intent to kill someone. That aspect was already out of the way! Technically. Which was why everyone would be looking to take his head. You know, entering castles tended to be easier when nobody knew anything about him...but this newness wasn’t all bad. Though saying it out loud would be impossible, he was especially glad for Derrick coming along. The man had been dealt a bad hand...or more accurately an entire deck of darkness. About time he got a break. The...former(?) assassin would figure things out.

Like wrapping his head around a change of occupation and address all in one day. Oh yeah, and classification? Vampire? There wasn’t any quibbling about that terminology, not after what he’d seen. ...That and the fangs emerging all too easily with the thought of food. He was guessing his usual fare of oranges wasn’t going to cut it either. This strange thirst was beginning to press more insistently at his tolerance for hunger. He wasn’t sure how he felt about...drinking blood. Best to use this time to think it over. Or there’s what he should have done. Never mind! Avoidance it was then!

....

Yeahhh...the reception was about as frigid as one might expect.

But staring at those doors, seeing someone else answer them and feeling the finality in the sound of them closing behind...none of this may feel real yet, but it was starting to sink in.

For once, Cal didn’t have a quip questioning the formality, or lack thereof, from the butler. Suppose when one’s a vampire, a few details such as tone weren’t worth quibbling over. Not that he could fault the man his frost. Definitely blaming any failing in the attempts at levity on distracting levels of thirst...and less on the array of Antarctic level temperatures being directed at the pair. Least he wasn’t so pitiful Derrick felt the need to put an arm on his shoulder...ah, never mind. Okay, so he waited till they were out of sight. Small mercies. No one followed them, seeming content to wait for dinner to begin the grilling.

When Cal floated the suggestion he might take his meal in his room, the words faltered before being fully formed. Dude may have been a butler, but Sebastian could give the assassins a run for their money in the intimidation factor. Got it. No avoiding this.

Didn’t seem to matter how good Cal was at hiding things, Derrick always saw through it. Annoying...and helpful. The bandages came off from around his rib cage, gnarly bruising explaining stiff movement. Course, Derrick was decked out with his own variety of colors as well. The two made quite the pair, each helping the other with clothes a bit restrictive for current predicaments, but they certainly looked a sight better than their former, somewhat tattered options.

In the end, the jacket rounding off the outfit refused to stretch over the mountain’s shoulders, threatening to burst down the center seam if Derrick so much as flexed and it had to be left behind. Cal assured him this was just fine...and not to think about it too much. They’d be having more important things occupying their minds shortly anyway.

....

The atmosphere at the table was one of downright hostility, though Comtesse’s appearance was enough to take nearly everyone’s breath away. Derrick had zero trouble catching names, though none of them outside of Napoleon and Jean were familiar to him. Generals and emperors were names that circulated the Citadel; a vague curiosity as to what was happening in the outside world frequently getting the better of him. The animosity didn’t phase him; being the focus of disdain and ridicule was his normal as well. A polite nod and unaffected smile greeted every member, whether returned or ignored.

For Cal, despite a number of them being famous during or after this current time, they all rang bells. Though with the exception of Dazai, and admittedly the rest were very distant memories he hadn’t dredged up for over a decade. Lot of water under that bridge. And bodies. His expression was one of his typical jester’s grin, the nerves bunched up and singing with no place to go being tightly reigned in. She’d told the residents there was no harm to be done, but he knew rather personally how powerful a desire for vengeance tended to inspire people to action.

Just maybe not at the dinner table? One can hope.

“Right! Famous lads from history, eh? If I’d have known the great Napoleon Bonaparte was on the battlefield, I might’ve brought more darts! Course, I thought you’d be shorter an’ all. Inferno or not, you’re reasonably impressive!”

Derrick could’ve groaned, however if he said he hadn’t anticipated this happening it would’ve been a lie. Leave it to Cal to get the elephant out of the way first thing. Scratch that, Cal would ride the elephant around the room whooping and hollering.

“We are indebted to your graciousness for freeing us from that place, and accepting us into your home. It may be a moment before I can formulate questions, in the meantime if I can answer anything for you?”

There were two conversations taking place, one, civilized and calm between Derrick, Comtesse, and whoever was listening to that particular discussion. The second consisting of Cal, Arthur, Theo, Napoleon, and Mozart...mostly in fortissimo. There was a hard glint in Cal’s emeralds, a closing down as he deflected queries calling into question his sanity, morals, and parenting. Shakespeare watched both conversations with avid interest, muttering things to himself while a smile played about his face.

One thing stood out above the bickering, the scent of rouge putting a crease between Cal’s brows he wasn’t sure what to do with. “Your Comtesse was another job. There was nothing more to it. Take it as personally as you like, she’s important to ya.” (You don’t have the first possible inkling how many people I’ve killed who were important to someone.) That’s why he’d personally taken to not have anyone important to him. Till Derrick took that personal and became someone important. One day he’d recall how the frak that had happened... ”All I’ve got to offer is my word. I won’t be raising a hand against her from here out. Same goes for any of you all either. Take it or leave it, that’s how it is.”

More of a promise than he’d ever given out before. Even Derrick hadn’t gotten that, understood or not. They both knew, in the Citadel you did what you had to. Avoiding being put in a bad situation was the only way to go; it was why no one had seen them together, let alone knew they were friends.

The rouge was practically taunting him now. The smell was all too familiar, memories kept locked up tight creeping along the edges. Eat or wither away. Great options. His fangs and throat had specific ideas and didn’t like being ignored. Words dried up along with the inhibition. If he hadn’t have outed himself already, the reaction to his first conscious topping of blood would do it. Revulsion, not for the beverage ingested but for everything that peculiar scent of copper brought back with it, transformed his features from the devil-may-care rascal into a man haunted

The smile turned fractured façade wouldn’t fool anyone. His question posed for la Comtesse was quiet, the din at the table keeping its animated dissection of actions taken pointedly ignored.

“However did you manage to wrangle a wormhole anyway, swee—Comtesse?”

#cw: vampires #tw: blood #vampires #Ikemen Vampire #dark fantasy #whump #whumpfic #au #OC #Derrick #rapscallion #comtesse #fanfiction

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homespork-review · 4 years ago

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Homespork Act 4, Part 2: Flight of the Paradox Groans

BRIGHT: Remember Spades Slick being bizarrely aware he was in a comic, back in the Intermission? Buckle up, things are about to get even more fourth-wall-breaking. Appropriately, this starts by the comic focusing on an actual fourth wall, which activates to show...Andrew Hussie.

Hussie’s MS Paint avatar notices the audience watching him, laments that his side of the wall doesn’t have an off switch, and then recaps the first year of Homestuck.

Now, in all fairness: The recap is thorough, full of links, and explains things fairly well. It’s quite long, but given how much territory it has to cover I’m not sure it could be any shorter. So it does its job well, and it’s a boon if you’re getting lost with the plot.

As for the author insertion...on this occasion I don’t mind it. It comes across as tongue-in-cheek, but framed more as the author talking to the reader than as the author inserting himself into the narrative. It’s definitely very Homestuck.

Anyway, AH gets back to work, and after a couple of false starts we return to John!

John is still flying around with his jet pack. GC trolls him to offer him a world map of LOWAS and tell him she feels awful about killing him, although in literally the next line she tells him that technically he never even died so she doesn’t understand why he’s so upset. John understandably finds this disturbing. They have a brief nonsensical discussion about Jesus/Jegus, and then John agrees to go take a look at what’s on the other side of his Second Gate. Yes, on the advice of someone whose previous advice got him killed.

CHEL: Almost a shame we didn’t set up a Too Dumb To Live count, but then to be fair that was a separate timeline and he’s probably not thinking of it as something that “really” happened. This is supported by his later dialogue.

FAILURE ARTIST: The word Jegus is really popular in the Homestuck fandom, used far more often than it is in the canon. Gets quite annoying, in my opinion. Actually, a rather Jesus-like figure does appear, but he’s not called “Jegus”.

CHEL: Yeah, I think only Terezi, John, and Dave ever use the term, but it somehow became latched onto as an actual term used by trolls in general, even though in canon it isn’t.

BRIGHT: Fortunately, this time GC appears to be playing nice. John flies though the Second Gate and emerges...into LOLAR?

FAILURE ARTIST: Hussie does an amusing trick where he has what looks like a loading screen for a flash but it’s actually a still image eternally at 2%.

BRIGHT: Yes, it’s LOLAR. John promptly crashes into Rose’s house, smashing through a wall and into her bedroom, where Rose is still snoozing in her knitting pile. Apart from briefly being stuck upside down, he does not appear injured by this collision.

Rose has somehow slept through the commotion. John decides to let her rest and borrows her computer to talk to Dave.

The first one he talks to is actually Davesprite, who points out how moronic John was to listen to GC again. No arguments here! Then he explains how the Gate system works: Odd-numbered Gates, above players’ houses, lead to somewhere on their planets. Even-numbered Gates lead to other players’ planets, exiting over their houses. Normally they aren’t meant to go through even-numbered Gates until the houses are built up, so they don’t fall to their deaths, but fortunately John has a jetpack workaround. So far Davesprite is living up to his promise of being straightforward.

John realises he’s talking to Future Dave, and asks “do you think i could talk to the real dave for a second?”

...ouch, John.

Davesprite goes off on a tear, ranting that he is a real Dave — arguably the realest Dave, since he’s been running around LOHAC for months trying to get enough information to save everyone. John apologises sincerely.

CHEL: This won’t be the last we hear of this theme, though.

EB: i think i pissed off your future self. TG: what did you do EB: i said he wasn't the real dave. TG: ahahahahaha EB: i think i might have really hurt his feelings though! TG: pff TG: dont worry about it EB: why not? TG: cause i wouldnt give a shit TG: and hes me

BRIGHT: Not a hundred percent sure I believe Dave, there.

CHEL: Dave uses John to snoop around Rose’s room and get the captcha code for her journals. Classy, Dave. Not a SLAMMER point, however, as this does come back to bite him very soon.

Rose’s dreamself has awoken on Derse, the purple planet, and flies across to the opposite tower. Dave’s dreamself appears to be awake, sitting upright in his computer chair; the room is entirely an unsettling bloody red colour apart from the SBaHJ cartoons on the walls, and… oh shit, there’s Lil Cal again, now in a long purple nightdress and hopping around the room on his own. If Rose was having nightmares because of dreamself issues, I can only imagine how Dave’s nightmares must look. Rose throws a ball of yarn at Dave’s dreamself, alerting him, and causing the awake Dave to pass out.

Back in Rose’s room, it seems that Charles Barkley quote was not misattributed:

FAILURE ARTIST: Another SBaHJ reference in the book quote. Is that where Dave got it?

Still, I don’t recall this book ever coming up again. Just another item that seems like a Chekhov's Gun but isn’t.

CHEL: John feels guilty about opening his birthday gift from Rose, but reasons that it’s technically now his anyway, so he does, finding another bunny, this one black and filthy-looking except for the pristine knitted purple patches repairing it, though its shape is eerily familiar.

The gift in this box is a resurrection. I used your present to thread life anew into a tattered heirloom. As long as I can remember, its black, greasy appendages have been tethered limply to its ratty, porous carriage. Too delicate to wash, too dear to discard. I used to love this rabbit. Now he's yours. I trust you'll find this to be adequately sentimental. Happy birthday.

Oh my gosh, awwwwww. Even if you don’t ship them romantically how can you not love their interactions? Definitely one of the comic’s strong points. Also I need to go hug my childhood teddy bear.

John puts the bunny back in the box again and the box in his sylladex, freeing Casey the salamander while he’s at it. And let’s just take a minute to feel utter horror because dead John still had Casey in his sylladex, so the best option is that she died too, and the worst is that we have an And I Must Scream situation on for a baby salamander. Gah.

FAILURE ARTIST: Thanks, I’d never thought of that and I never want to again.

You aren't actually sure if she is a girl though. You don't even know if salamanders can be girls. Aren't they hermaphrodites or something?

CHEL: No, for the record. Though some frogs can switch from one to the other.

FAILURE ARTIST: Casey is very popular as a name for an OC child of John (often having Rose as the mother).

CHEL: John answers Rose’s Pesterchum, upon which GA is half-heartedly sending antagonistic messages. John answers on Rose’s account, saying that Rose is asleep, which GA takes for Human Sarcasm, prompting John to pretend to be Rose.

GA: I Should Figure Out How The Viewport Feature Of This Application Works GA: So I Can See What Such A Primitive Creature Looks Like TT: haha, well i know what you guys look like. TT: you look kind of like... TT: howie mandel from little monsters.

Wait, how does he know? Am I forgetting a point at which he saw them?

BRIGHT: I always assumed that he was just goofing around and his guess happened to land in the right ballpark, but thinking about it, I’m not sure the kids ever express surprise at the trolls’ appearance.

CHEL: John, pretending to be Rose, talks about how awesome John is.

GA: He Is Either The Leader Of Your Party Or You Hold Whatever The Human Equivalent Of Mating Fondness For Him Is

CHEL: Both. Both is good!

FAILURE ARTIST: Knowing what we do of troll culture later this is an odd statement. Heck, it’s just an odd statement. Maybe this is why people think trolls don’t do friendship.

CHEL: John apparently confuses GA by saying it’s because Rose is thoughtful and John appreciates his gift, and suggests GA talk to John.

TT: why don't you pick the time that will make the most complicated mess out of everything imaginable?

GA sounds very annoyed, and leaves, intending to have the conversation with John that she had previously. We see her, GC, and the horns of AT and an unknown troll in the grey room, now revealed to be a computer laboratory. For some reason she chats via Pesterchum with another troll instead of just walking over to talk to them. This new troll is twinArmageddons, an appropriate name for the circumstances, who type2 iin yellow text liike thii2; he is, as it turns out, the hacker guy GC mentioned earlier. TA is busy setting up the network and seems irritable in general, and is not willing to help GA work her viewport.

TA: iif ii 2ee one more 2narl of wiire2. TA: kiind of juttiing out and beiing tangled or whatever. TA: ii am goiing two perform 2ome 2ort of athletiic fuckiing 2omer2ault off the deep end and get a call from the pre2iident or 2ome 2hiit.

Nice callback, but trolls, as we’ll later find out, don’t have presidents.

WHITE SBURB POSTMODERNISM: 14

GA wonders why TA doesn’t want to talk to her, and TA complains that he knew in advance the trolls were doomed and no one believed him. He refuses to troll the humans himself but is setting up the system so the others can in order to get them to leave him alone. GA asks again for help, to no avail.

TA: iif you cant fiigure 2hiit out by fuckiing around you dont belong near computer2. TA: kiind of liike wiith regii2tered 2ex offender2 and 2chool2. TA: iif you move two a new town you have two go up two your neiighbor2 door and warn them about how 2tupiid you are. TA: and giive them a chance two hiide all theiir iinnocent technology. TA: and vandaliize your hou2e.

Ooh, a threefer plus one! Tacky simile for the Problematykks. As for WSP, we’ll later find out that 1) trolls kill all their criminals, 2) trolls don’t give a shit about the welfare of their children, and 3) trolls don’t appear to actually go to school. These two counts are neck and neck in the lead now!

CLOCKWORK PROBLEMATYKKS: 17 WHITE SBURB POSTMODERNISM: 17

BRIGHT: As with much of Homestuck, the trolls give the impression of being made up as Hussie went along. That’s not entirely a bad thing -- it certainly makes the comic pretty unique -- but it does lead to some out-of-place slip-ups.

Anyway, GA chucks her F1 key at TA’s head and then starts poking him. We also see CG in the lab.

FAILURE ARTIST: I think I recall GA/TA were a popular ship before we learned more about GA. It does seem like they have a Rose & Dave dynamic going on.

BRIGHT: Back on Derse, Rose and Dave have a dance party to Dave’s music while accompanied by some crows and Lil Cal, who keeps teleporting around the room. Rose eventually gets tired of Cal’s shenanigans and hurls him out of the window, to the relief of many.

FAILURE ARTIST: The flash originally included music by Bill Bolin. In fact, it was his unfinished music being included here that caused all the drama in the first place.

BRIGHT: Time for some random interludes! First up is Maplehoof the pony, who is following Rose’s mother through a large cave which, judging by the grist lying around, recently contained very dangerous monsters.

FAILURE ARTIST: Apparently pets can collect grist for their masters...and know what grist is despite being a normal(?) animal.

BRIGHT: First Mom, and then Maplehoof, stand on a transportaliser platform and disappear. Second is Dad, who has just acquired a replacement shoe and hat (which showed up in the walkaround game, way back at the beginning of the Act), when he encounters a familiar-looking stranger with a Colonel Sassacre book, who leads him to another transportalizer platform. Both of these interludes do become relevant later, but at the time they seem a tad unnecessary.

Meanwhile, John uses Rose’s alchemiter and a code Davesprite gave him mid-rant to produce a truly epic hammer called FEAR NO ANVIL. It’s far too big for John to wield, but fortunately he can use the scaling upgrade on the alchemiter to reduce it to a more useable size. ...wait. When did Rose’s alchemiter get a scaling upgrade? Dave and Jade added a lot of modifications to his, but Rose’s should be the original edition. Sigh.

EB: so what is this? EB: the thing the code made... TG: really powerful hammer EB: how do you know? EB: i thought you couldn't use hammers. TG: i cant TG: better be though TG: got it from hephaestus EB: who's that? TG: really tough to kill dude EB: you killed him for it? TG: nope EB: how'd you get it then? TG: shenanigans EB: ok.

...and we’re back to sprite evasiveness. Davesprite is being less than forthcoming here, although it’s less obvious than with Nannasprite because it superficially imitates John and Dave’s bantering.

CHEL: Now, this would be a good way of keeping us interested if we were eventually going to see how he did it, and also they have a time limit, so not going off into a long anecdote would be understandable. However, we’ll see how his evasiveness level proceeds in the future.

BRIGHT: Dream Rose and Dave see John using Rose’s alchemiter on Dream Dave’s computer. Rose wakes up.

FAILURE ARTIST: It is interesting how early Homestuck avoided having characters have face-to-face conversations. Would have been unique if it kept up throughout the entire comic.

BRIGHT: Back in the meteor, GA hassles TA into opening the viewport on her computer. This turns out to be as simple as clicking on the point in Rose’s timeline that she wants to see. No wonder TA was frustrated!

Of course, by this point, the only one left in the room is Rose, now awake, and the young salamander. Rose hurries to catch up with John, but he blasts off to explore before she can reach him, taking her mutated kitten with him.

CHEL: John renames Vodka Mutini to Dr Meowgon Spengler, and Rose renames Casey to Viceroy Bubbles von Salamancer. Interesting link to the themes of identities which are starting to crop up, though it’s not really a direct analogue. The animals are the same animals with different names; the alternate timeline characters have the same names and superficially the same identities, but are they really the same people after their new experiences?

BRIGHT: Back on Derse, Lil Cal inexplicably lands on a stray rocket board, catching the attention of AR.

You're not sure which laws are being broken, but it is probably a lot.

AR follows Cal to yet another transportaliser, and they both dematerialise.

We jump back to John, who spies a boat on one of the islands dotting LOLAR and lands to investigate. He follows hoofprints in the sand into a subterranean hallway filled with monsters. Fortunately his new hammer has time powers, which stun the monsters long enough for John to kill them. Further on, he finds the transportaliser Mom used. John, naturally, stands on it, and is transported to a meteor in the Veil.

Actually, it’s not just a meteor; it’s one of the laboratories where the Skaian troops are produced. John, along with the cat and Maplehoof, finds a bunch of chess guys being grown in glass jars on a giant podium. Most of them are the standard carapaces we’re familiar with, but there are also a few larger pieces, apparently based on knights and rooks. He also finds a JUNIOR ECTOBIOLOGIST’S LAB SUIT, and another of those strange house-shaped sets of monitors.

On Prospit, PM is preparing to board a shuttle to Skaia when a COURTYARD DROLL sneaks up behind her. Unaccountably, she fails to notice him, despite the fact that he’s wearing a hat larger than he is. CD successfully pickpockets the White Queen’s ring, and PM departs for Skaia, none the wiser.

CD radios the DRACONIAN DIGNITARY to report mission success, and is told that he doesn’t need to keep wearing his ridiculous outfit, per orders from Jack Noir, who is now going by the SOVEREIGN SLAYER. CD says he’d rather keep wearing the outfit. Apart from the sword-through-the-chest part, it is a very nice outfit, so I’m with CD on this one.

Catastrophe is averted by Jade delivering a flying kick to CD’s head and following up with a very efficient smackdown. Her robot body replicates this back on Earth, beating the stuffing out of her mummified grandfather. Jade retrieves the ring, and puts it on her fingers to remind herself to give it back to PM later. Unfortunately, this doesn’t cause Jade to sprout wings and tentacles. Seems the rings don’t work on humans like that.

Meanwhile, in a Timeless Expanse, a WARWEARY VILLEIN is getting tired of the battle between Derse and Prospit. The next animation is called “WV?: Rise Up” and it’s one of my favorites! When I first read Homestuck I had to watch it a few times before I understood what was going on, but it is a very neat video.

Watch on YouTube

The Battlefield has been prototyped three times, and is now spherical. The forces of Derse and Prospit meet. The usual carapaces with swords are backed up by larger pieces -- some of them very strange -- and by battleships clashing in the sky. In the chaos, WV, who is farming peacefully on Skaia, has his home and farm burned down. He raises a flag and addresses the troops of both armies. Elsewhere, Jack Noir appears, flying over the Battlefield in search of the Black King.

WV rallies the armies and tells them that their real enemies are the monarchs, who are responsible for the war. Encouraged, the Dersite and Prospitan troops band together and march on the Black King.

Meanwhile, PM has reached the White King and discovers that she no longer has the White Queen’s ring. The White King listens to her and hands over his scepter, which seems to represent Skaia and serves a similar function to the Queens’ rings. Behind a nearby hill, the Hegemonic Brute radios somebody to report the transfer.

As WV and the united armies reach the Black King, Jack arrives and slices the Black King’s scepter in half, nullifying its powers and turning the Black King back into a normal carapace. PM is attacked by HB, who knocks the White King’s scepter out of her hand; it falls down a waterfall. Jack Noir beheads the Black King and turns to WV, and the animation ends.

...okay, much as I love it, I have to admit there’s a glaring question here: Namely, the kids started playing the Game less than a day ago and Dave’s kernelsprite has been prototyped for a few hours max. The second prototyping made the Battlefield more complex and the third took it into its current form. That’s a very short time to instigate a cross-faction revolution, organise the troops, and march on a monarch. For that matter, how long has WV been a farmer? The inhabitants of Derse and Prospit have obviously been doing their thing all the kids’ lives, but the Battlefield was supposedly a static, rudimentary space until John entered the Medium, so what gives?

Then again, the timeline in the Medium is supposed to be distinct from the timeline on Earth, so maybe that explains it?

CHEL: An interesting point is also raised by WV’s revolution. Namely, Derse is presented as a kingdom of darkness and evil by the game, while Prospit is presented as good. However, while PM is good, WV and AR are demonstrably not bad people either. In this animation, we see carapaces of both sides apparently don’t want to be involved in the war and are willing to rise up against the Black King. The rank-and-file carapaces on both sides, it seems, are decent people who are just following orders. (Not to mention very cute.) Jack Noir and his gang are nasty pieces of work, except CD who’s also just kind of going along with it, but there’s nothing saying white carapaces couldn’t also be… And is that a Problematykks point, presenting the black-coloured people as bad and the white-coloured ones as good? I know they’re chess pieces, but still.

This raises the question, however, what’s Derse’s motive? Are its rulers and archagents simply destroying for the evulz? I wonder. I also wonder how much Skaia itself is involved in this and how aware it is. Skaia is called the crucible of creation, and it’s responsible for the creation of the carapaces too. References are made to it “seeing” and “knowing”; it’s quite possibly sentient, though maybe not sapient. On top of that, SBurb is specifically a game, and a game needs an objective, and an adventure-type game needs enemies. Derse, it seems likely, was created and presented the way it is in order to give the players something to battle against even if its people don’t want to be their enemies. No wonder WV’s pissed!

BRIGHT: Yup. Hmm, thinking about it...the imps and other enemies we saw attacking John’s house early on were obviously Dersite, but the ones we’ve seen in Rose’s seem to be Prospitian, if anything? The colour scheme looks that way, at least. But Nanna said earlier that Derse was the enemy, nothing about Prospit.

Perhaps it has something to do with Rose being a Derse dreamer, while John is a Prospit dreamer? But in that case I’d have expected it to come up in the text. Instead it just goes unremarked.

Rose goes on a massive alchemising spree and ends up creating the Thorns of Oglogoth, a pair of wands.

The needles seem to shiver with the dark desires of THE DEEP ONE. Any sane adventurer would cast these instruments of the occult into the FURTHEST RING and forget they ever existed.

Instead of throwing the wands away, Rose takes on the enemies camping all over her house, with style.

Meanwhile, Dave goes on another, less visibly productive alchemising spree.

GET ON WITH IT!: 18

FAILURE ARTIST: The SBaHJifier could be considered productive in that it provides foreshadowing cartoons. Wish Dave’s Brain in a Jar came up again.

BRIGHT: Once he’s done creating smuppet variations to disturb the monsters encroaching on his house, he sits down to take a look at those two journals he copied from Rose earlier. One of them is called ‘MEOW’, and is literally just those same four letters, repeated over and over in different orders. The second is ‘Complacency of the Learned’.

There is no way to adequately recap the beauty of ‘Complacency of the Learned’, so we’re just going to show the whole thing:

Frigglish bothered his beard, as if unkinking a hitch in a long silk windsock. A more pedestrian audience would parse the exhibit as nervous compulsion. Behavior to petition contempt among the reasonable. He was however not surrounded by the reasonable, but the wise, a distinction in men that would forever be the difference in history's garland of treasured follies. As a matter of fact, his cadre of fellow wizards were all putting similar moves on their beards as well. The practice would evince thoughtfulness - sagacity, even - if they didn't do it all the time. Standing in line at the bank. Shooing squirrels from bird feeders. Few occasions were safe. Zazzerpan inspected the clue. A single piece of evidence cradled in his coriaceous old man palms. It was a human bone, not striking in the tale it told alone so much as that told by the thousands like it festooning the marshy soil of the mass grave. The grisly expanse bore the texture of a decadent dessert, like one of Smarny's formidable custard trifles wobbled out on wheels for the holidays, to the dismay of a small nation. "You're certain of this?" asked Frigglish. Despite what he was doing with his beard, he was, in fact, immersed in meaningful contemplation. "I am afraid I am becoming more so with each terrible tick groused by that gaudy timepiece slung around your neck." In case it wasn't clear, Frigglish wore a clock Zazzerpan didn't care for. It was magic. "The massacre of Syrs Gnelph was not as written." "What has you convinced it was the hand of our disciples in this blackness?" Executus chimed in. "I believe... I..." a fat face stammered, eyes darting with the guilt of a thief in the throes of an unraveling alibi. "I can summon a... more pressing line of inquiry..." No, Smarny. Nobody was in the mood for a sticky bundt loaf just now. Zazzerpan's ears fell insubstantial to any line of inquiry, pastry-oriented or otherwise. His abstruse contour carved a pondering shape in the fog carpeting centuries-dead. His eleven contemporaries too embraced the muted consternation of their great Predicant Scholar. Few wizards kept sharper adumbratives or read them with such lucidity. When Zazzerpan treated men with silence it was seldom unrepaid by the wise and reasonable alike. It was harrowing to entertain. Zazzerpan the Learned's storied Complacency of Wizards was marked for grander descendence. Disciples hand-picked, vetted by Ockite the Bonafide and tested by Gastrell the Munificent. The twelve sweetest, most studious children a pair of elderly eyes could give their sparkle. Not the ragged guttersnipe so oft-harvested by the common Obscenity, those vituperative little beggars with hearts to corrupt as dropped bananas brown. That these chosen youngsters would turn was not merely unthinkable, but something of a roundhouse to the temporal bones of the Upper Indifference's high chamber of Softskulled Prophets. His wisdom-savaged brow pruned further with recount of his many lessons to wouldbe successors. Lessons to advance humanity's elucidation and prosperity, an outcome this bleak trail now painfully obviated. There were few puzzles The Learned could not suspend and dissect in the recondite manifold beneath his extremely expensive pointy hat. Daring to pitch his cherished pupils in with the foul melange of history's rogues, the heretofore abstract scourge that built up civilizations with ungodly magic and tore them down with joyful malice, would prove an intellectual trespass to make his calcium-deficient bones quake. And more daring yet was the only question that now mattered. Could a bunch of bearded, scraggly old men in preposterous outfits hunt them down? He didn't have an answer. Only a simple observation so blunt and uncharacteristically jejune for the lauded sage it was breathtaking in its selfevidency. "We're going to need more wands." (Wow. Think of something better.)

Wow.

Dave is understandably intimidated by this, and decides to stop reading for now. He puts his copy of the SBURB Beta in the notebook to act as a bookmark, and leaves both books in his room for later.

Then he checks in on Rose, who is burning her version of the MEOW book.

CHEL: Dave inquires about the wizard story.

TG: i thought you hated wizards TG: whats the deal with that TT: I like wizards. TT: What I don't like is my mother's obsession with feigning interest in them to antagonize me. TG: oh man thats so messed up TG: that you think that TG: she probably digs wizards for real just like you and youre blowing shit out of proportion like pretty much always

Once again, we see exactly how fucked-up Rose’s relationship with her mother is. Mom Lalonde has somehow managed to raise a child in such a way that Rose interprets everything her mother does as an attempt to mock and provoke her.

ARE YOU TRYING TO BE FUNNY?: 16

TIER: The Lalondes are pretty damn dysfunctional as a family unit, and considering the zany nature of early Homestuck and its world's weird logic that is saying something indeed.

CHEL: As for the MEOW book, it turns out the gods from the Furthest Ring informed Rose while she was sleeping that the book’s contents are highly dangerous and must be destroyed. Said gods dwell in the sky above Derse; Dave’s never heard or seen them, but Rose points out his dreamself is always wearing shades, listening to music, and distracted by Cal.

TT: You're the prince of the moon. TG: ........ TT: I'm sure they've been meaning to seek a royal audience. TG: ..........................

Davesprite chats to Rose next. She protests at being spied on by two people, but Davesprite asks her why she burned the codebook. She didn’t need to in the future, but according to her future memories of the gods absorbed from her future dreamself, Davesprite appeared to make it relevant by traveling to the past. A sinister and familiar face watches through Dave’s window, soon proving to be the Draconian Dignitary, while Dave and Davesprite awkwardly spout elaborate mixed metaphors about how safe they are, until Dave, embarrassed, says "so i guess ill go back down and burn that book".

As any savvy reader could guess, he’s too late. The prompt suggests that he should go back in time to stop the books from being stolen, but, well...

It looks like you already tried that. GORE GALORE: 10

Dave looks completely undisturbed, but whether he is undisturbed is a different matter. He flings the corpse out the window into the lava, claiming it would freak Jade out.

John, in the lab, presses a button, causing the first monitor to depict his town, shortly before his birth. There is a Betty Crocker factory and a shopping mall, neither of which are in the town now. Zooming in locks a target over Nanna Egbert, who is taking a stroll with Dad. A meteor looms; this looks like it’s going to go very badly, considering the target lock, but it hits the factory instead. When John presses the glowing blue button, a PARADOX GHOST IMPRINT of Nanna is created; refer back to Rose’s experimentation in the lab and the green slime blobs. This time, the slime is sucked into a tube.

The next monitor does something similar with Grandpa Harley on his ship, and the next the same with Bro Strider, who stands over a meteor crater on an unseasonably warm day; something of an understatement, as the sky is the same lurid red and the sun the same glowing spiral that they were during the Strider bros’ battle even though it’s December. Bro is, regardless, prepared for the occasion with a small pair of outrageously awesome shades. What he needs these for will soon be revealed.

The fourth monitor goes back to John’s home town, a gigantic crater where the factory once was. In the shopping mall, Dad Egbert stands outside a joke shop, while Nanna apparently remains inside, busying herself with a tall bookshelf, a ladder, and a rather hefty unabridged joke book.

Mom Lalonde, clutching the infant Rose and wearing a rather snazzy long Jaspersprite-pink scarf, has come to town to study the meteor impact at the request of Grandpa Harley while he explores elsewhere. Unfortunately, now is the time a meteor chooses to strike Nanna’s location, destroying the shop.

An old mother lost today, but a new son gained.

Wait for it.

Mom Lalonde flees, dropping her scarf, which Dad Egbert picks up and slightly creepily sniffs. The monitor continues tracking her, and John captures her paradox imprint too, starting the machines whirring away...

Four babies abruptly appear on the pad, already diapered and bespectacled and old enough to sit up unaided. Convenient, no?

When the kitten jumps on a green button, the slime is blended in pairs; Nanna’s and Grandpa’s, and Mom’s and Bro’s. More blinking lights ensue, and another four extremely familiar-looking babies appear.

BRIGHT: I will say this: These kids are adorable.

While babies clamber over him, John vaults up his echeladder to the rank of Ectobiolobabysitter, acquiring one million Boondollars in the process. This automatically converts itself to a Boonbuck, the weight of which smashes his Porkhollow.

Finding out just what is going on here will have to wait, as the comic takes a brief detour to a battleship navigating the Medium nearby. There’s someone very familiar at the wheel…

An old man has much to do before he returns to Earth, dies, gets stuffed by his adopted-yet-biological daughter-slash-grand-daughter, and stuck in front of a fireplace.

Also aboard the ship are Dad Egbert and Mom Lalonde. Dad returns Mom’s scarf, and the two of them hold hands as Grandpa Harley pilots the ship towards Skaia.

We return to the lab, where John has his hands full with the babies. One of them has managed to break one of the paradox slime jars from earlier, but appears uninjured. Also, CG’s trolling him again.

CHEL: CG makes mention of the ULTIMATE RIDDLE, but John is confused because CG hasn’t told him about that yet. He uses an ableist description in explaining.

CG: SEE I KIND OF PAINTED MYSELF INTO A CORNER. CG: I STARTED TROLLING YOU AT THE END, JUST BEFORE THE RIFT. CG: AND THEN JUMPED BACK A LITTLE. CG: AND NOW I GUESS I'VE BECOME RAILROADED INTO WORKING BACKWARDS HERE. CG: UNLESS I WANT TO DO THE SORT OF DUMB SCHIZOPHRENIC HOPPING AROUND LIKE THE OTHERS. CLOCKWORK PROBLEMATYKKS: 18

… why wouldn’t you just hop right back to the start and work in a linear fashion from there?

TIER: Because CG excels at making things complicated for himself and is fundamentally rather stubborn and set in his ways/actions. Like he's made his bed, he's gonna lie in it.

CHEL: Anyway, CG banters with John for a bit, and then informs him that he (John) has arrived in the Veil and created infant versions of the players and their guardians.

EB: so they are like cloned copies of us? CG: NO. CG: THEY ARE LITERALLY YOU AND YOUR GUARDIANS. CG: PARADOX CLONES.

A paradox clone, we are informed, is A CORRECTLY CLONED DUPLICATE THAT WILL INEVITABLY GO BACK IN TIME AND BECOME THE ORIGINAL TARGET THAT WAS CLONED. The game worlds contain many clues hinting at the ultimate destiny of the players to create their own selves through the game, and the only way things could possibly go involved the players creating themselves, or else the game session would never happen.

CG: WHICH IS ESPECIALLY PATHETIC SINCE PARADOX SPACE APPARENTLY WENT TO ALL THIS TROUBLE TO MAKE YOU JUST TO HAVE YOU FAIL AND DIE. CG: REALLY THERE'S NOTHING MORE TRAGIC THAN THESE NULL SESSIONS FULL OF KIDS ENTERING THE GAME AND FULFILLING SOME COSMIC DESTINY SHIT JUST TO GET WIPED OUT AND LEAVE BEHIND AN EMPTY POINTLESS INCIPISPHERE FOR ALL ETERNITY.

Tragic and completely unnecessary, when there are millions of perfectly good humans already in existence who could just as easily create winning game sessions without this aspect of it. Here we see another aspect of Homestuck which hasn’t come up quite so clearly before; an extremely weird take on determinism. I’m not sure if this is meant as a parody of Chosen One plotlines or if Hussie just thought it sounded cool, but it’s uncomfortable. As it turns out, only clones created by SBurb have a hope in hell of winning the game, and even they fail most of the time. Regular people who enter the game to save themselves from the destruction of the planet will fail and die there, which honestly is not really selling this game as a good thing, since it’s what causes the destruction of the planet in the first place. I’ve had actual, legitimate, honest-to-God nightmares about this aspect of SBurb, and I’m not ashamed to admit it.

FAILURE ARTIST: I think many fans wish to play SBurb. There’s lots of fan sessions and fake GameFAQs and custom Lands. Yet in reality SBurb is not a fun time. This is cosmic horror. I think Hussie is sometimes playing it for horror and sometimes he ignores the implications.

Then again, some people want to live on the troll planet, which is straight-up dystopia.

CHEL: Again, it isn’t really clear what he’s going for. Is it supposed to be terrifying or did he just think it would be clever? Does even Hussie know what he was going for? While it’s not exactly a joke, I think it’s worth another point here:

ARE YOU TRYING TO BE FUNNY?: 17

It might be a joke. As I said, I could see it as a parody of or playing with the Chosen One narrative. In this case, literally only the chosen ones have any hope, for reasons that are not down to any merit of their own. But if it is, there isn’t really much made of it.

Of course, the reasons people want to live on the troll planet are reasonable when taken alone, but a) contradicted every alternate scene and b) not a fair trade for everything else that’s going on there. But we’ll get to that when we actually see it. And I admit, SBurb powers would be fun, but not worth the loss of my entire species.

TIER: To me at least it's fun in the same way wondering how I'd fare as a wizard during Harry Potter's years at Hogwarts, or a ninja in Naruto is. Fundamentally you'd rather want to never encounter this sorta stuff even if you get some swanky I guess powers, but the mental exercise of it is quite honestly, really fun. The game has quite a lot of interesting things to poke around with, from lands to quests to what your co-players are up to. And I'm def guilty of playing trollsona games, because the world presented is just really fascinating in its gruesome glory.

Never want to have to actually go through it, Lord knows I'd be dead within the first ten minutes if I'm super lucky, but stories about it are pretty neat.

CHEL: That’s true, but the paradox clones thing seems almost to be taunting us for having that mentality. We can pretend we’d be the super-smart strong competent ones who make it, but in this universe if we demonstrably have parents we’re doomed to die for nothing and there’s nothing we can do about it.

BRIGHT: Another fun thing about this is that it fundamentally isolates the players from the rest of humanity. If you think about it, unless they have children with a non-player, they are completely unrelated to anyone else on Earth.

CHEL: And they can’t have kids with a non-player unless something thoroughly horrible happened, because as is stated later SBurb specifically takes its players away and destroys their planet around the point of their puberty.

BRIGHT: Although I think John is actually related to Dad — as far as we’re told, Dad is in fact Nanna’s biological son, which makes him genetically John’s half-brother.

They also miss out on (going by how active the babies are) the first couple of years of life. Those two years are crucial in terms of brain development. SBURB probably controls for that, but it wouldn’t be surprising if there were negative consequences.

Oh, and if you’re a player, your existence means your civilisation is doomed. Lovely!

CHEL: And do the players ever feel any guilt or conflict over this? Do they hell. It doesn’t even occur to them, and I’m pretty sure it didn’t occur to Hussie either.

TIER: Welcome to the hell game that is SBURB; it's fundamentally pretty fucked up! It runs on a hellish scale of "things have already been predetermined" and I am Big Fear™.

CHEL: That’ll come up later, too, but there it’s obviously intentional nightmare fuel, and not at all a bad use of time travel as a story device.

CG, meanwhile, explains that he was the one to create his session’s players. With twelve of them it was a bit more complicated, but troll lineages are complicated anyway, and we’ll find out how later.

The babies are still getting all over the lab. Note that they're repeatedly referred to as "little pink monkeys". Then again, calling a non-white child a monkey really wouldn't be good.

WHITE SBURB POSTMODERNISM: 18

John’s infant self has latched onto the Sassacre book, while his infant Nanna is sitting in Dad Egbert’s old hat. Baby Bro is napping in the lap of Lil Cal; that baby’s braver than I am, I can tell you that. Baby Dave is sitting on Maplehoof, and baby Grandpa has found a pair of pistols. John does not take them away from him, or even seem to notice he has them.

HURRY UP AND DO NOTHING: 7

BRIGHT: Earlier baby Bro broke one of the paradox slime cylinders and was sitting in it. John is pretty astoundingly bad at keeping babies away from obvious hazards.

TIER: That or the equipment is probably not sturdy enough to make it past an inspection into faulty management.

CHEL: But then he’s distracted by CG trolling him again, at least this time moving forward in time from the last conversation.

CG, like GA, apparently fails to grasp sarcasm...

EB: we had this great dare going. EB: to see who could be the least helpful and informative. EB: and you totally lost, dude! EB: you were hella helpful. CG: I WAS OBVIOUSLY JUST SPITING YOUR STUPID POINTLESS HUMAN DARE. [...] CG: ANYWAY, HOW COULD WE HAVE MADE A DARE IF I'M MOVING BACKWARDS ON YOUR TIMELINE.

… which is weird because moments later he uses it himself.

EB: do you even have elves? CG: YES, LET'S COMPARE WHICH FANTASY CREATURES THAT DON'T EXIST WE BOTH DO OR DON'T NOT HAVE. CG: WHAT A GREAT FUCKING IDEA, JOHN!

Hussie seems to waver back and forth a lot on whether trolls get sarcasm or not, in general. Since he’s contradicting himself with troll worldbuilding, that’s a point.

WHITE SBURB POSTMODERNISM: 19

Banter aside, he informs John that the babies are sent to Earth via meteors during the Reckoning.

BRIGHT: How do they survive the impact? Some of those meteor strikes destroy buildings. Those are some ridiculously resilient kids.

CHEL: Cut to AR, who is still having fun on the rocketboard, until he runs into a frog temple atop a meteor. This is apparently horrifying and illegal by his standards.

You are going to throw whoever is responsible into the slammer. You always call jail the slammer when you are extra angry at crimes.

Inside, he finds an empty time capsule, like Jade’s, some complicated machinery, and a monitor screen showing a greyscale house with a very familiar bespectacled female infant and dirty old hat in it. The year depicted, says the monitor, is 1910. Enter none other than Colonel Sassacre himself.

Eight days prior, the orphan girl was taken in by an aristocratic southern colonel and legendary humorist. He recovered the young lady from a crater where a bakery once stood, operated by the man's wife, a notable baked goods baroness.

An explosion outside leads them both to a crater, where once stood the doghouse of the colonel’s pet, Halley, but before the Colonel can investigate further he’s shot through the heart.

This is exactly why babies should not be allowed to dual-wield flintlock pistols.

BRIGHT: I remain baffled as to how Baby Grandpa can even lift those things, let alone pull the triggers.

CHEL: Baby Grandpa crawls from the crater, and Halley the dog turns out to be alive.

The young boy has difficulty pronouncing the name though. Sounds more like "Harley" when he says it.

How does he know it? The colonel died before he even noticed the baby was there. Is baby Nanna speaking well enough to tell him yet? I guess he could be told later, as Sassacre wasn’t in fact their only sapient guardian...

Thirteen years later, the boy develops a taste for adventure. He and his guardian bid farewell. His sister is sad. She will be left all alone with the wicked pastry baroness. She can handle it, he tells her. He believes in her.

It isn’t clear why she didn’t go with him, or leave under her own power. They don’t seem to be imprisoned, as the panel depicts them outside on grass with no restraints or guards over them, so it’s not a matter of only one of them being able to get out. That’s a point for Nanna not trying and a point for Grandpa not bringing her:

HURRY UP AND DO NOTHING: 9

That dog is also remarkably lively, considering it, unlike Bec, is an entirely normal dog, it was an adult thirteen years previously, and it’s somehow supporting the weight of an entire teenager on its back (again, please don’t try this at home, you can break the dog’s spine that way).

FAILURE ARTIST: As we’ve said, Colonel Sassacre is a thinly-veiled Mark Twain expy. The real Mark Twain died in 1910 at the same time Halley’s Comet was in the sky. It’s a cute historical gag having him be literally killed by a comet but it does muck up the timeline. Nanna must have been a senior citizen when Dad was born. Perhaps he’s adopted?

CHEL: The other option is that Dad is a senior citizen now, but surely John would have wondered why his dad is so ridiculously old. I think it’s just that thing in mainstream comics and cartoons where adults are split into Old and Not Old, and the parents are normal ages for parents but the grandparents would have to be in their hundreds going by the gags. See how Scrooge McDuck in the DuckTales reboot is over a hundred and forty years old yet his sister’s son is still a youngish adult.

AR notes that the appearifier is centred over Halley the dog, but hears someone coming. It proves to be the Draconian Dignitary. AR hides and watches, noting that DD is carrying Rose’s notebooks and Dave’s beta envelopes. DD keeps the MEOW book, but throws away the other items. Complacency of the Learned lands on the floor, and the envelopes land in the time capsule, which sets to bloom in four hundred and thirteen million years.

Meanwhile, John talks to CG while infant Mom Lalonde pets the mutant kitten. John asks if there’s any way to delay the Reckoning, but nope; CG warns him that the smallest meteors will start going in only a few minutes.

EB: ok, well you keep saying how doomed we are and how all this bad stuff happens sooner, but you never say why! EB: what happens in our game that's different from yours that makes things go so badly? CG: JACK NOIR.

The Jack Noir from the trolls’ game session allied with them and helped them dethrone and exile the Black Queen, while the one from the humans’ session, as you may recall, killed the Black Monarchs and gained their powers, and is currently rampaging through the Incipisphere. John asks if it’s the same Jack Noir, but CG explains.

CG: SO LET'S SAY YOU PLAY YOUR BANDICOOT AND I PLAY MY BANDICOOT. CG: THEY ARE ESSENTIALLY THE SAME BANDICOOT, SAME APPEARANCE AND DESIGN AND BEHAVIORS. CG: BUT THEY ARE STILL COMPLETELY SEPARATE BANDICOOTS ON SEPARATE SCREENS. CG: SO WE BOTH HAVE OUR OWN ASS BANDICOOTS TO OURSELVES, THE SAME BUT DIFFERENT. CG: OUR JACKS ARE THE SAME BUT DIFFERENT TOO. CG: SAME GUY, DIFFERENT CIRCUMSTANCES AND OUTCOMES. CG: OUR JACK TRUMPED THE QUEEN, BUT GOT NO FURTHER. CG: YOUR JACK GOT THE BEST OF BOTH OF THEM, AND IS NOW SOMETHING HIGHER THAN A QUEEN OR A KING… EB: like an ace? CG: SURE OK.

The trolls don’t know what went so differently to cause the two Jacks to behave so differently, but CG doesn’t think it matters by now. John interrupts him, deciding to do yet another Con Air ending re-enactment.

Watch on YouTube

Recap: montage of Con Air posters and images to the tune of “How Do I Live Without You”. John hands the thoroughly disgusting Con Air bunny to the protesting baby Rose, while CG watches huffily on his monitor. Jade demands a toy too, so John hands her the bunny he received from Rose in an excessively dramatic fashion. CG frustratedly hits himself in the head. In scribbly crayon-like drawings, Casey the salamander performs a drum solo with glowing blue mushrooms for drums and the Con Air plane crashes. More Con Air imagery, John embraces baby Jade and the baby Lalondes while sobbing; GC points and laughs at him over CG’s shoulder and they have a slapfight. John imagines himself in Nic Cage’s iconic wifebeater and mullet and performs an air guitar solo.

TIER: Lemme tell ya, as someone who's only experience with this darn movie is whatever pops up courtesy of John this sequence is just a trip and a half. Possibly a higher number.

CHEL: Cut to end-of-act curtains; they open on the next page, declaring a PSYCHE; there are more pages to go.

Cut to Dave’s hands, covered in the dead Dave’s blood. I… guess he’s supposed to be staring at them in shock? It’s impossible to tell through his shades. For all I know he could be worried about the cleanup. GC trolls him and they banter creepily, with her demanding to know what his blood smells like and him taunting her about her blindness.

TG: just him and me TG: havin a see party TG: like a couple of eagle eyed bros peepin shit up into the wee hours GC: D4V3 GC: C4N 1 COM3 TO YOUR S33 P4RTY? TG: i guess but youll have to be careful not to stumble around bumping into all the gorgeous masterpieces hanging around everywhere TG: god so beautiful to look at with my perfect eyesight GC: C4N 1 L1CK TH3 P41NT1NGS? TG: yeah thats fine

Neither of them seems to take it particularly hard. If there was narrative around the dialogue, I think we’d get a better grasp of how Dave feels. Lacking much body language or punctuation, tone is a bit tricky to get.

FAILURE ARTIST: There’s a character later who gets a lot of grief for insulting her blindness but reading what John, Dave, and CG say I don’t know how that character could be worse.

CHEL: AT, meanwhile, is trolling Jade, rather politely. He even takes time to ask if she’s having a good nap. She’s worried about John’s dreamself not waking, and AT scrolls into his view of the future timeline, but can’t find John awake, nor see into his dreams. Jade, however, will wake up soon, and she thanks him for this report. Unfortunately, when Jade wakes up she will be in danger, and AT can’t see any further. He tells her CG wants to talk to her about her exploding robot. He can’t see whether it exploded or not because there are a lot of explosions, but asking future Jade shows it did, and that she declared CG to be a pretty nice guy, which surprises AT since he doesn’t think CG is particularly nice. Jade says she thinks AT is nice too, and asks why he’s the only one who talks to her while she’s asleep.

AT: bECAUSE YOU HAVE A ROBOT, tO LET YOU SAY THINGS THAT HAPPEN, oN PROSPIT, AT: aND i'M CURIOUS, AT: bECAUSE THE ONLY TIME i EVER HAD FUN PLAYING THIS GAME WAS WHEN i WAS ASLEEP, AT: bUT NOW ALL OUR DREAM SELVES ARE DEAD, AT: }:'(

AT happily remembers his own time on Prospit, and we cut back to Rose, being trolled by GA despite the fact that Rose is obviously in the middle of an epic magic battle. The conversation is understandably chilly, and GA still hasn’t figured out that “Dumb Rose” as opposed to “Smart Rose” was John rather than a bizarre roleplaying scenario.

GC continues trolling Dave. He asks her how she operates a computer without sight.

GC: 1M SORRY D4V3 TH4T YOU W1LL N3V3R 3XP3R13NC3 TH3 S3NSORY BOUQU3T TH4T 1 3NJOY 3V3RY D4Y GC: TH4T 1 3NSCONC3 MYS3LF 1N L1K3 4 W4RM 4ND COMFY B4THROB3 M4D3 OF FL4VOR 4ND M3LODY TG: oh ok TG: so the dumbest and most far fetched explanation imaginable ok got it

Yes, pretty much. This brings me to a Problematykks point; GC is supposed to be blind, but it really doesn’t seem to affect her in any way at all. Its workaround is ridiculously convenient and effective, and while I’m not blind myself, I know many people with physical disabilities hate it when fiction does this. I know I would be pissed off if a piece of fiction showed an easy and convenient way to not have autism anymore. (Horrible, horrible memories of someone back in the days of Livejournal’s Fanficrants of a fic in which autism was somehow cured by having a foursome. I don’t remember how that was supposed to work.) “She’s a space alien” only goes so far in explaining it. Why even bother making her blind if it’s not going to affect her in any way?

CLOCKWORK PROBLEMATYKKS: 19

FAILURE ARTIST: She’s the least blind blind person in media. Characters like Daredevil from Marvel Comics and Toph from Avatar the Last Airbender have a Disability Superpower but at the end of the day they still can’t do things like read printed text. GC has no disadvantages.

BRIGHT: She can apparently smell and taste photons.

Which raises the question why none of the other trolls ever show a heightened sense of smell or taste. If GC can learn to interpret smells as colours, her sense of smell must have been that strong all along, and there’s no indication in the text that she’s biologically more sensitive than her companions. Trolls must be better at following a trail than bloodhounds.

CHEL: Synaesthesia which makes one strongly associate colours with smells is a thing, and synaesthesia is generally the word the fandom uses to explain Terezi’s ability, but you still have to actually see the colours for that to work. If she was only mostly blind and was picking up blurry colour patches, I could buy it (and that is how the fandom tends to do it with human AUs), but not if she’s supposed to be completely blind, and she still wouldn’t be able to read text that way.

BRIGHT: Time for another animation, and for a hop back into the recent past.

Watch on YouTube

As the meteor locked onto Dave’s house approaches, Dave climbs up the tower to retrieve his cruxite egg from the nest his sprite made. Unfortunately the sprite attacks him, knocking him and the egg off the tower. Bro Strider appears on top of the approaching meteor and slices it in half with his katana; the two halves are diverted by the blow and strike different areas of the city. Dave’s fall is broken by a rocket board, which is presumably how Bro got up to the meteor in the first place. (How did he manage to aim it to intercept Dave’s fall? Wouldn’t it take longer to get from the meteor to Dave than it takes for Dave to fall from the top of the tower to the roof of the building? We shall never know.) The egg hatches, and Dave is transported into the Medium. There’s no sign of what happens to Bro.

CHEL: Yet more cartoon physics around the Strider bros.

BRIGHT: I don’t know if we mentioned this earlier, but although Dave and Bro live in an apartment block that presumably housed multiple people, only Dave’s apartment gets transported into the Medium. Everyone else in the complex is left to die on Earth. SBURB is sociopathic.

Elsewhere in the Medium, back in the present, Grandpa’s ship is approaching Skaia, with Mom Lalonde and Dad Egbert on board.

Down on Skaia, Jack Noir draws his sword and slaughters the army WV raised to march on the Black King. WV cowers, but Jack leaves him alive. He then uses the Black Queen’s ring to send some sort of giant red tentacle attack through Skaia, slaughtering Dersite and Prospitian forces indiscriminately.

CHEL: Are they tentacles? I always thought of them as some sort of lightning lasers.

BRIGHT: That makes a lot more sense!

In the ectobiology lab, as the clock ticks down to the Reckoning, the babies are teleported to asteroids around the lab. There must be an air supply in this asteroid belt — characters are consistently shown as being able to survive outside.

CHEL: Maybe it’s just the players’ natural badassery. Batman Can Breathe In Space.

BRIGHT: On Skaia, CD makes his way through Jack’s slaughter fest, which has now ravaged a sizeable chunk of planet, and hands him the White King’s sceptre. Jack raises the sceptre and initiates the Reckoning. The meteorites start to vanish into Skaia’s defence portals. In the frog temple, DD somehow combines the MEOW genetic code with a paradox clone of Halley, creating Jade’s guardian Bec. Bec’s creation damages the laboratory equipment in the temple.

Cut to Jade, who is snoozing peacefully while her dream self explores Prospit. She looks up at Skaia, to see Jack’s shadow passing in front of it. Jack launches his tentacle attack on Prospit, slaughtering the inhabitants, then severs the chain attaching Prospit’s moon to the planet. The moon begins falling towards Skaia.

Jack then flies to LOHAC, where he encounters Bro Strider on one of the turntable mesas. Unexpectedly, Bro is able to give Jack an even fight. After a few exchanges, he drives his katana into the mesa; some sort of golden light emanates from the crack, and Bro absconds.

Wait, how did Bro get onto LOHAC? How did he survive the meteor impacts?

TIER: The ol' "rule of cool". As long as something is sufficiently "absolutely kickass!!" the rules of reality and physics can go sit on the bleachers twiddling their thumbs for all they fucking matter. There's a reason early fandom pinned down Bro as an unorthodox but immensely cool older brother type guy for so long. Because with what little information was available before we got bludgeoned with "No actually he was the absolute fucking worst thing to happen to Dave and fucked him up for life" that was the general impression he gave off.

CHEL: This and the meteor splitting are yet more reason not to take Bro’s treatment of Dave seriously; this is a world in which ludicrous animesque badassery rules the day, and physically impossible feats of battle occur every five minutes. Forcing a child to go through extensive and excessive sword training in brutal heat in a precarious place, possibly every day, ought by rights to be normal there, and I can’t believe he was physically hurt by swordfighting when he survived a meteor collision as an infant. Besides, training that extensive quite possibly could be the only thing that would keep Dave alive in these circumstances.

ARE YOU TRYING TO BE FUNNY?: 18

BRIGHT: There’s a random Squiddles interlude, and then we return to Skaia.

John’s unconscious dream self has fallen out of Prospit’s moon as it plummets towards Skaia. Jade tries shaking him awake, and then slaps him, but to no avail. At the last moment, she throws him out of the path of the moon, and her dream self is then killed when it lands on her. Back on Earth, her dreambot overloads and explodes.

CHEL: Taking her tower room with it; Jade’s sleeping body plummets towards the earth.

BRIGHT: The moon leaves a gigantic crater in Skaia. John’s now-conscious dreamself hovers above it.

The babies vanish through the defence portals to Earth.

CHEL: Each takes an item with them. John takes the Sassacre book, Rose the first Con Air bunny, Dave rides Maplehoof, Jade takes the bunny Rose gave to John (which is in fact the Con Air bunny plus several years and repairs), Nanna sits inside Dad’s old hat, Mom takes the mutant kitten, Bro sleeps in the lap of Li’l Cal, and Grandpa dual wields the flintlock pistols he should not be allowed.

BRIGHT: Dave and Rose reach the Gates above their houses and set out to explore their Lands. We close on an eerie shot of Bec outside the frog temple on Jade’s island at night.

CHEL: Jade’s tower room is blown to bits, and a truly enormous meteor hovers over the scene.

Curtains close. End of Act 4. Before Act 5, we receive a message from Rose, via her GameFAQ.

[ZZZZ] Rose: Egress. This is my final entry. My co-players and I have made every earnest attempt, with occasional relapse, to play this game the right way.

Really? You haven’t been in the game for more than a couple of hours and Jade still isn’t in at all! Maybe consider that the fact that not all your players are in the game yet when you wonder why it isn’t working?

I have been meticulous in documenting the process to help our peers and successors through the trials should we fail. In my hubris I believed these classes were relegated to the Earth-bound, but in even this quaint supposition I was in error. Our otherworldly antagonists have assured us of our inevitable failure repeatedly, while the gods whisper corroboration in my sleep. I believe them now. I just blew up my first gate. I’m not sure why I did it, really. I am not playing by the rules anymore. I will fly around this candy-coated rock and comb the white sand until I find answers. No one can tell me our fate can’t be repaired. We’ve come too far. I jumped out of the way of a burning fucking tree, for God’s sake.

I can see her point. The game is horrible and should be stopped. On the other hand, I’d at least attempt to spend more than one day investigating it before trying to break it. Randomly destroying shit is more likely to make things much worse than anything else.

I have used a spell to rip this walkthrough from Earth’s decaying network, and sealed it in one of the servers floating in the Furthest Ring. The gods may disperse the signal throughout the cosmos as they wish. Perhaps it will be of use to past or future species who like us have been ensnared by Skaia’s malevolent tendrils. In case it wasn’t clear, magic is real. Pardon my egress. You’re on your own now.

This note is signed with a glowing multicoloured “RL” and revealed to be emitted from a purple box with an aerial, floating in space. It seems that’s how their internet’s still working.

FAILURE ARTIST: The internet seems to be a magical dimension in Homestuck and not something that’s part of physical infrastructure.

CHEL: Hours in the future, WV lands in the desert remains of Earth, wrapped up in John’s old ghost-patterned bedsheet, which is still white. A villein becomes a vagabond. In his memory, he tears up an effigy of Jack Noir… where’d he get it? Did the game create it for some reason? Anyway, John’s blanket falls on him from the sky as Prospit plummets; WV calls it a RAG OF SOULS. Adorably melodramatic.

John’s awoken dreamself gazes sadly at Jade’s deceased one, which for some reason isn’t actually under the rubble of Prospit and appears to still be three-dimensional. There’s no excessive blood splatter like with the dead Dave, which is good, not too over the top. He retrieves the Queen’s ring from her hand. Was he told at any point that it’s important? Because if he doesn’t know, I’m not sure robbing the dead is very heroic. He sees an image of himself flying over the battlefield in a large cloud above him; in the vision he’s near a castle, so he goes to seek it out.

On Earth, PM wraps herself up in an old Prospit banner. A mistress becomes a mendicant. In her memories, she has beheaded the Hegemonic Brute and is arranging a meeting with Jack Noir. He arrives and she presents the crowns; smirking evilly, he honours their bargain, and the Courtyard Droll brings her the green parcel. She brings it to the castle from John’s vision as he arrives there, hands over the box, and angrily walks away.

FAILURE ARTIST: She’s Honor Before Reason (maybe she’s programmed that way) but she has the right reaction. This is a lot to go through to deliver a package.

CHEL: Inside the box is a letter from Jade’s unknown pen pal, who writes in dark green and a distinctive jolly-hockey-sticks dialect, with a tendency to ramble off on tangents about movies and wrestling.

Anyway you should listen to jade from here on out john because she sure seems to know whats best for you. Whatever your adventure throws at you im sure shell tell you you can handle it. She believes in you.

And another letter from Jade.

even though its super late and you probably went through a lot of trouble to get it, i really hope this present cheers you up! you looked so sad while you were reading my letter. um... which is to say, the one you are reading now.

She explains that in her dreams she goes to Prospit and John’s sleeping dream self is there, and that’s where she gets her visions. She hopes he likes his present, and says her penpal is fun…

john i am REALLY looking forward to seeing you when you wake up!!!!! its been nice playing with my prospitian friends and all, but also kind of lonely knowing you were in the other tower sleeping and having lousy dreams. :( im not sure where i am when you are reading this but im sure ill make it down to where you are soon! (jeez how did you get down there??? oh well ill find out) i cant wait to fly around the moon with you and show you all my favorite places. itll be so much fun!!!!!!!!! :D <3 jade

Ow. I think this is the only time John cries in the entire comic.

A Single Tear(™) is a bit of an understated reaction to the death of one of your best friends who you just recently learned is also your twin sister, but to be fair, John isn’t left with very much time to react, as next panel Jack Noir’s sword is pointed at his face.

BRIGHT: John knows about dream selves and waking selves by now, I think?

CHEL: He knows they’re a thing but I don’t think he knows they count as backup lives. AT told Jade dream selves can die separately from regular selves but I don’t think anyone told John.

FAILURE ARTIST: Jack Noir wants the ring, but then he’s stopped by Jade’s gift: a robotic bunny wielding multiple weapons.

They line up for a fight.

Hours in the future, on a destroyed planet, AR wraps police tape around himself and becomes a Aimless Renegade. Before the disaster, he went to the Veil, where he found a sleeping John. He saves John by putting him on a rocket board.

Back to the robotic bunny. Jack Noir flies away from the fight. Grandpa’s battleship lands and Grandpa takes away Jade’s body. Mom and Dad disembark the ship and wave goodbye as it leaves. Grandpa cries a Single Tear as he transports Jade’s already taxidermed body. Did he have a machine?

CHEL: For that matter, why isn’t he helping anyone who’s actually still alive while he’s there?

HURRY UP AND DO NOTHING: 10

FAILURE ARTIST: Nope, transporting a dead body is more important.

Again going back, White Queen leaves Prospit. On landing, she becomes Windswept Questant and wanders the Earth. We go forward years later. She repairs the laboratory and meets up with AR, WV, and PM. WV’s homemade spear hides the ring.

John watches this scene through the clouds of Skaia. He looks at the ring in his hand. In another cloud, there’s Jade’s laboratory. We close in on it and inside is The Fourth Wall. It isn’t turned on, but we are still lead to Andrew Hussie, banging away on a computer keyboard as he recaps the plot for a second time.

CHEL: Which we shall do as well when we’re done with this section, because it’s insanely hard to keep track of everything.

FAILURE ARTIST: Andrew Hussie says Nanna’s comet landed 99 years before John’s “birth” so he has some clue about the age but still doesn’t see it odd that a woman that age has a son who is probably only in his thirties.

CHEL: As I said, it’s also possible Dad was really old too, but that’s never really suggested. Not to mention, since they were brought into existence as toddlers, shouldn’t the kids be noticeably older than the ages given for them? John should be biologically fourteen to fifteen by now and at that age that can make a visible difference. I know the art style doesn’t really give clues, but no one I’ve seen has ever pointed that out in fanfic either.

FAILURE ARTIST: Newborns aren’t distinctive looking and can’t really do the cute things toddlers do. People in TV and movies regularly give birth to six month old infants so it’s not strange.

CHEL: True, but this isn’t TV, it’s a comic, and they don’t have to use an actual infant as a prop here.

BRIGHT: Possibly it’s intentional. Among other things, we see the newly-created players survive short trips through vacuum, crash-land on Earth without even minor injuries, and handle weapons they shouldn’t be able to lift for another four or five years. This could work if players have superhuman abilities (that is, beyond the classpect system). If that was the intent then it really should be made more explicit, though.

Of course, what it really boils down to is that Homestuck runs off Rule of Cool and Rule of Funny, and occasionally breaks down on examination as a result.

On the whole this is a solid Act, I think! We have a lot of new stuff happening, more characters get introduced, and we find out some more about the trolls. It’s much less rambling than Act 1.

COUNTS ALL THE LUCK: 0 ARE YOU TRYING TO BE FUNNY?: 18 CALL CPA PLEASE: 8 CLOCKWORK PROBLEMATYKKS: 19 GET ON WITH IT!: 18 GORE GALORE: 10 HOW NOT TO WRITE A WEBCOMIC: 15 HURRY UP AND DO NOTHING: 10 IN HATE WITH MY CREATION: 0 RELATIONSHIP GOALS?: 1 SEND THEM TO THE SLAMMER: 1 SOME OF MY BEST FRIENDS: 0 WHAT IS HAPPENING??: 9 WHITE SBURB POSTMODERNISM: 19 TOTAL: 127

#homestuck #Let's read #homestuck meta #reread #literary critique #sporking #Homespork

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