#like of course ill say the one i see the most of so my opinion isnt really concrete ig?

[todayisafridaynight]

which yakuza dude do you think has the most deranged fangirls

yall gotta stop askin questions we know the answer to

[daenystheedreamer]

please tell us about alysannejonquil..... you've intrigued me

ok so. jonquil is utterly totally irrevocably devoted to alysanne. her very shadow. nothing is more important to jonquil than alysanne. alysanne is the maiden made flesh. alysanne is a true princess a true queen the most beautiful the most kind the most gentle.

alysanne loves jaehaerys with all her heart, he is her soul she is his heart. she also loves jonquil, as her truest friend. she's like her hand; an undeniable part of herself. alysanne could be bisexual if she knew that existed but truly has no thoughts on this matter.

jonquil knows she is a lesbian and can identify her sexuality. she is also a bastard daughter and a woman knight. she can never be a true daughter nor a true knight.

there relationship is one of meaningful touches, where it is thoughtless and whole-heartedly given by alysanne and obsessed over and greedily, starvingly kept by jonquil. an empathetic pat on the knee. braiding jonquil's hair so it's out of the way. tying the ribbons on alysanne's dress.

alysanne says oh you are my jonquil then i must be your florian. jonquil is gripping her sword white-knuckled. haha yes your grace of course your grace. jonquil thinks about alysanne the maiden in the pool the true jonquil.

alysanne is 15 when the attack at maidenpool happens and i like jonquil at 18 because it mirrors brienne and it means she did her mystery knight tourney at 16 like lyanna. they grow up together. jonquil is beside her for the births of all her children, from daenerys to gael.

jonquil sees the king and hates. and then she repents, because he is the king and if alysanne is the mother then he is the father made flesh. but he puts alysanne in that birthing bed and makes her bloody and still alysanne loves him still alysanne praises him for giving her children.

ok dramatic prose over it got too much. anyway i think jonquil is sort of a weird aunt figure in the lives of alysanne's kids. she's literally been there since birth. ill put her opinions on the kids below the cut. i think alyssa, saera and viserra specifically all catch on and identify exactly what jonquil's deal is and i do believe they each tease and harass her over this. alyssa in a fun and flirty way, saera in a pointed and cruel way, viserra in a simultaneously careless and egomaniac way.

jonquil being the one who physically restrains saera and forces her to watch jaehaerys behead her lovers. Layers. layers to this. saera is an insult to her mother a wicked wicked girl. jaehaerys IS the father IS the king. alysanne must be protected.

jonquil loves the order jonquil loves the system. she believes herself an aberrance and repents over this.

also i think jonquil would get jealous when gael becomes alysanne's bedmate. layers layers layers. she liked daenerys because daenerys died before she could become a disappointment.

i want jonquil surviving alysanne and sticking around at court. like barristan. a shadow once more. i want her to see alicent. i want her to see another faithful girl in the flower of her youth caring for jaehaerys and jaehaerys mistaking her for his daughters for saera. i want to see it. she has a stroke and dies at a sept lying at the foot of the maiden. or mother idk could be either.

i dont like alyquil ever consummate. i mean i can enjoy thinking about it but like in this timeline/au/interpretation of canon/fanon whatever i think its not unrequited its just unconsummated. jonquil knows alysanne could love her, does love her, doesnt understand sexuality, but she could never. but she wants to. and has to apologise to the gods about it.

DAENERYS - cute kid, dies young so jonquil never has to see her become a wicked sort of woman

AEMON + BAELON - she cant tell the difference between them. they are their father's sons. they will be her king one day. Layers.

ALYSSA - i like to think she taught alyssa some swordfighting since alyssa is mentioned as playing with wooden swords as a kid. jonquil has complex feelings on alyssa's early non-conforming gender stuff. i think alyssa genuinely likes jonquil but also likes teasing and flirting with her. unlike her mother alyssa can identify her bisexuality. when alyssa settles down (with her brother) and becomes a good wife (to her brother) jonquil is like. im not going to think about this more than i have to. she is a little disgusted and then feels disgusted for feeling disgusted because aly and jae are sister and brother and aly can do no wrong which means to feel disgusted is to make aly less of an ethereal angel. is broken up by alyssa's death, never wants to think about it ever again.

MAEGELLE - the other good daughter. chose the order chose the system. kind and gentle and sweet like alysanne. faithful and good.

VAEGON - just kind of weird. doesnt like fighting doesnt like fucking. does not entirely fit his assigned gender role, which jonquil should relate to but she's not ready for that cognitive dissonance.

DAELLA - the last of the good daughters. jonquil thinks she's a weakling but then repents for thinking that because women are supposed to be weaklings. sad for alysanne when she dies.

SAERA - the wicked evil WHORE of a daughter. a demon who is a stain on her angel of a mother. of course she turned to prostitution. saera for sure was sexually harassing jonquil cos she thought it was funny. definitely like "awww mummy isnt gonna fuck you but you can settle for me ;)" and jonquil is like. im going to fall on my own sword.

VISERRA - another disappointment daughter. im not sure if i want to go full jaehaerys-abused-his-daughters in this but like. idk your mileage may vary. but no matter what jonquil is still going to be a little misogyinst about it and judge her drinking judge her self destruction. jonquil may hate jaehaerys but if alysanne loves jaehaerys than jaehaerys can therefore do no wrong sort of thing.

GAEMON + VALERION - the kids themselves dont matter but the difficult labours that alysanne went through definitely affect jonquil. she gives the king the silent treatment for a while. curses him and then repents over it and doesnt feel guilty and has to repent again.

GAEL - good daughter, in a way, but jonquil has deep jealousy over how alysanne finds comfort in her. when gael gets doomed jonquil is, deep down, a little relieved and happy because alysanne finds comfort in jonquil once more. lots of praying over that one.

bonus

AEMMA ARRYN - she likes aemma because aemma is nice and gentle and kind (just like alysanne therefore good. a worthy inheritor of queenship) + born from one of the good daugthers

DAEMON - she looks at him and sees saera

RHAENICENT - her head explodes about this

[howtofightwrite]

Most traditional boxing instructors will tell you that if the opponent is taller than you, has longer arms than you, or is heavier than you, you're fucked and you need to stay extremely aware and work really hard to compensate for all the advantage he has over you.

In a recent forensic survey, it was determined that most traditional boxing instructors who get into real world altercations die when they're shot in the head.

This is the problem with a lot of these kinds of arguments. No one practices traditional boxing. At least, no one does so publicly. How do I know this? Because traditionally boxers fought in the nude. Yeah, we're not seeing that, are we? Now, maybe they meant bare knuckle boxing, but really no one does that either, these days. Boxing without safety equipment is not a particularly good idea, for fairly obvious reasons.

The only reason the word, “traditional,” is in the ask is to lend their statement unearned credibility. It's an attempt to make their statement sound more authoritative, without offering any evidence to support the statement.

Who said that?

“Traditional people did.”

Okay, but, 'traditionally,' people cleaned shit off their ass with a stick. So, maybe appealing to Hellenic sports isn't the best gauge of how a fight will play out.

Also, I know I just said it, but, who are these authoritative sports guys? Because they're not named. We're simply told, “most,” of them agree. Which starts to sound a lot like “four out of five dentists agree.” Who are these instructors? What do they teach? Why are the currently in prison for indecent exposure? And how much did you pay them to get their uninformed opinion? Salient questions which may need to be answered, if the original question wasn't invalid on its face.

Why do I say it's invalid?

Because boxing isn't fighting.

Boxing is a sport.

Boxing has rules.

Kick your opponent in the groin, or shin, and you're punished.

Step on their foot, push them, and watch them tumble to the ground before you start stomping on them, and you'll be punished.

Throwing your opponent will be punished.

And of course, as mentioned at the top, pulling out a gun and expanding your opponent's mental horizons is extremely frowned upon.

These are all things that can happen in a real fight.

These are all things that do not benefit from increased height or reach.

There is one genuinely accurate statement. In a fight, you do need to be very aware of what's going on around you. Everything else is the product of someone who's been punched in the head repeatedly until the CTEs got them thinking that boxing is analogous to a real fight in any way. (And, statistically, will probably end their career sitting in a jail cell over an aggravated assault charge, because their emotional self-control was completely destroyed by those same head injuries.)

The rules that boxers need to follow are designed to (somewhat) protect the participants. It reduces the dangers of a boxer being killed in the ring. In an observation that I would hope to be self-evident, those rules don't exist in actual combat.

It's also amusing, because the original Asker had to go so far as to single out an ill-defined, “traditional” boxing, because no other martial art they checked gave them the soundbite they wanted.

And, of course, women box. Historically, you could say, “traditionally,” there were even boxing matches between men and women. It wasn't until the 1880s that women were excluded from competitive boxing in the UK. (I'm not sure of the exact date when women were banned from boxing in the US, though that prohibition lasted for less than a century, before the modern return of women to the sport.)

So, either these “traditional instructors” don't know the history of their own sport... which doesn't sound particularly “traditional” to me, or they're full of shit.

My advice to everyone would be, maybe, don't take the advice of a sports coach about how he's secretly an absolute badass in all the delusional fantasies he's cooked up about how he'd like to inflict violence on others because they wouldn't date him.

-Starke

This blog is supported through Patreon. Patrons get access to new posts three days early, and direct access to us through Discord. If you’re already a Patron, thank you. If you’d like to support us, please consider becoming a Patron.

[whateversawesome]

Possible Theory About Twiyor Kiss

Do you want to know something cool I learned in grad school this week? (And that could possibly apply to the first Twiyor kiss?).

Okay, here it goes. It's called the rule of three.

According to my teacher, the rule of three in narrative/fiction works like this: Author/Artist shows an event three times.

The first time to show the reader something.

The second time to establish a pattern.

The third time is to break that pattern.

So, let's apply this to Spy x Family. I'll give you an example: Yor hitting Twilight whenever he tries to do something romantic.

First time: The almost kiss.

Here, Twilight almost kissed Yor (he was very willing to do it) but at the last minute, Yor realizes she can't do it and instead, she almost hits him (but accidentally hits Yuri because her husband avoided her hand).

Second time: The kick on the chin date.

Here, he grabbed her hands while she was drunk and without permission and almost asked her to be his real wife (come on, we all know that's what he was going to say). And for that, he received a kick on the chin. See the pattern?

Third time (pay attention here!): Chapter 80.

This is the most important one. Here's where the pattern breaks!!

He's repeating something he did before: being too close, touching her without her consent (okay, okay, it was to prevent her from falling, so no ill intent here). But the important thing here is not so much his behavior, but Yor's thoughts and response. She's so drunk she thinks her husband is about to kiss her. She's terrified and embarrassed, just like the other two times. You would think it's going to happen again, because this is a pattern, right? She's probably going to hit him, but she doesn't. Why? Rule of three: this is the third time, pattern has to break!

Now, let's get to the good part (hehehe)...the kiss theory. So if the rule of three applies here, let's count.

First time: Again, almost kiss from the earlier chapters.

Second time: Even though it's safe to assume he wasn't going to kiss her and she was just drunk, Yor thought Loid was about to kiss her. So it counts as second time.

That only leaves the third time, which of course, hasn't happened yet! But, if the rule of three applies to this situation, that means that the next time these two are close like this, they're actually going to kiss!!

In my opinion, it has to come from Yor. Why? Well, she's the one who has been thinking about it, it's a big step in her life (she wants her marriage to be real!), and from the narrative point of view, it's also part of her character development. So, in my totally subjective opinion, she has to be the one who kisses him.

When? Well, I don't want to get my hopes up, but I hope it happens in the movie. I mean, we did see Twilight showing her some lipstick and Yor blushing like crazy because of that.

Take into consideration that this is just a theory. It may or may not happen, but it sure is fun to theorize 😉

What do you think?

[spliqi]

spliqiii hi!! i remember seeing you talk about a theory regarding higuchi's ability and i was thinking about that now. with innocent purposes. so i wanted to ask if you can redirect me to the posts you made about it? (and/or elaborate when you answer this ask!) no pressure of course <3

aaaa hello!!! here are the main posts i made about it. but i can absolutely just explain everything again because i love to yap and i have even more thoughts on this now than i did back then

it's difficult to say for certain what her ability could be since we know literally nothing except that she has/will have one (thanks to asagiri's vagueposting on twitter). in my opinion it would be pretty strange for her to be the one exception to the 'all authors have cool abilities based on their works' rule when she's such a recognized figure in japanese modern lit. so. here's where i fell down a rabbit hole of trying to figure it out with nothing but crumbs and a dream.

for starters there's a lot of unanswered questions around higuchi. the problems she faces with belonging in the mafia seem normal on the surface but when you look into how highly she's ranked it gets ?????. she leads the command unit with akutagawa, a unit that sits directly below the executives and above the black lizard + the majority of the organization. if she doesn’t bring much to the table as mori and tachihara imply in chapter 14, how did she get so high up? she’s also one of the few characters that report directly to mori himself:

not to mention how she must have joined the mafia fairly recently and reached this position super fast, as her and dazai didn’t recognize each other in chapters 3-4:

she’s presented as a totally ordinary character with "relatable problems", and yet her rank doesn’t match this at all. i could see it if she were on the lower rungs of the mafia, maybe the level of a grunt like oda was, but since she isn’t, all i can think is she must have something that the mafia wants, something valuable enough to make mori look past her poor suitability and give her such a high position working as a bodyguard (bodyguard??????) for one of the strongest characters in the series. and of course the most logical conclusion to draw is that it’s related to her mysterious ability.

i’m assuming it’s not an ultra-powerful fighting skill (as cool as that would be), since that would kind of defeat the purpose of her struggle in chapter 14, and it would be odd in that case for her subordinates to look down on her so much:

plus asagiri denies it outright in this 2019 interview:

after digging around, examining each of her scenes down to the atom and bouncing ideas off of mutuals, i think it would make the most sense for her to have a life support or healing-type ability, especially one that comes with some kind of cost to her own wellbeing. it fits the caring and self-sacrificial nature of her character, and her acting as a "nurse" figure would explain both her connection to mori, a doctor, and also her being assigned to work with the terminally ill akutagawa, despite the seemingly massive gap in their capabilities as mafiosi. if her ability is directly linked to treating his illness it could also give us an explanation as to why it’s been a secret for such a long time, as asgr would have to reach the point in the story where akutagawa's illness is revealed first, and timeline-wise the cruise ship scene where that happened was like. a few days ago lol

we only see her around injured people that she could potentially heal a couple of times, but both of these scenes are interesting. the first is with akutagawa after the cargo ship battle in the first arc:

she reaches out to touch his hand with a little glowy effect, but hesitates when she remembers he doesn’t want her to help him. possibly a touch-activated ability? possibly because she’s conflicted about putting herself at risk when she knows he won’t even appreciate it? this takes place immediately after mori berates her about her worth to the mafia/in comparison to akutagawa, so if she does have a healing ability i imagine it's one she has to use sparingly, to the point that her usefulness is being called into question.

at the end of the chapter he apologizes to her and takes her hand, she starts crying and holds his hand back, and a few chapters later he reappears unscathed and stabbing nathaniel. despite having *checks notes* a broken jaw, a fractured spine and skull, first degree burns from head to toe and being in a coma 😭. which could just be animanga logic. but maybe… just maybe…

the second scene is with mori in cannibalism arc, and this one always gets me bc the direct parallel of higuchi at mori’s side and yosano at fukuzawa’s is wild !?!?!

higuchi and yosano are also both conveniently written out of the plot during the annihilation sequence in 55 minutes, when everybody gets hurt:

so. yeag. it makes sense to me. the healerguchi theory is probably the strongest i've seen for her ability by far lsjdjskjrkrj

i also think this theory links well into the irl author’s work - many of ichiyo's protagonists were "overlooked women" like maids, prostitutes, waitresses etc. if her job does involve her being a nurse to akutagawa you can see the clear nod to ichiyo's stories about vulnerable girls in roles of servitude. plus the concept of her ability physically draining her... dying as a result of caring for someone... (<- guy who's trying so hard not to mention flowers at dusk. and failing):

if higuchi has the ability to transfer her lifespan/life force/whatever based on one of her own characters who died slowly due to her unrequited love for a man with the same name as akutagawa… i fear asagiri’s pen game may have been fire all long

[writingsfromhome]

Things to Learn II

A/N: I kind of love writing these characters? tsm for the love on the original I’m glad I got to dive back into their story again. I’m starting a taglist so if you’d like to be on it give me a shout :)

Part 1 / 2 / 3 /

————————————————————

Harry rushes out of the toilets so he doesn’t miss the opening scene and nearly crashes into someone standing around the corner.

“Sorry!” He says as he tries to rush on by.

“Harry!?” The person calls his name.

He stops in his tracks and takes a look at who he just bumped into. And of course, it would be her.

“YN,” he swallows the lump forming in his throat. “Hi-uh what are you doing here?”

“Watching a movie?” She raises a brow. Still the same attitude as before.

“Oh! Right. Yeah. Me too-“

“Which movie are you here for?”

“The Planet of the Apes reruns,” Harry points to the door he so badly wants to walk through. As much as he wanted to stand here and talk to YN, have her attention all to himself, he wanted to watch the movie he came here for more.

“Well I’m here for that new romcom but Raina ditched me to go to that riverbank bonfire bullshit everyone’s talking about. But I hate smelling like campfire afterwards plus I already bought popcorn-“

“Didn’t that movie start 15 minutes ago?” Harry notices she’s standing in front of the poster. Why was she hovering outside?

“Well yeah because I’m wondering if I should be the loser inside watching a romcom by herself.”

Harry doesn’t know if he should be offended—he regularly watched movies by himself during the summer when he had nothing else to do. But then he realizes YN and her opinions weren’t something he took offence to ever since he put down his intellectually superior flag.

“Well I’m here with Caleb if you want to-“

“Bloody hell I was waiting for you to get the hint,” she brushes past Harry and he trails behind, confused.

“You wanted to watch Planet of the Apes?”

“No! I just didn’t want to watch a movie by myself. And you were supposed to invite me.”

“Oh,” these were the social rules Harry often missed. It was sort of nice having YN spell it out for him. “You could have just said-“

“Shh,�� she shushes him as they enter the theatre.

Harry was pleased at the way Caleb’s eyes bugged out of his head at the sight of YN.

“I thought you were going to the toilet?” He whispers loudly.

“I was but she-“ Harry cuts off as someone in front turns around with a dirty look. The movie hadn’t even started.

YN sits beside Harry and begins snacking on her popcorn. She hogs the armrest and he lets her, and when she pulls out her sweets and offers it to Harry and his friend they end up swapping most of their snacks. Despite being distracted at first he has a really fun time with the two of them.

Outside in the lobby after the movie is done, YN hesitates after throwing out her trash. It looks like she was wondering if she should stick around or not.

“Thanks,” she finally tells Harry. “Let’s not do this again though.”

“You joined us,” Harry reminds her. She eyes both him and Caleb.

“Yeah, exactly?” She says with a hand on her hip.

“I’m j’saying we weren’t the ones ditched here,” Harry says before he could stop himself. Her pleasant expression falls and Harry can see Caleb concentrate on something far away. Coward.

“Firstly I was invited to join the party but like I said I don’t like smelling like campfire. Secondly, just cuz I told you I was ditched doesn’t make you-“

“Um, I gotta go.” Caleb pipes in from behind. Both Harry and YN turn to him and he almost shrinks. “My ride is here um…”

“See ya later,” Harry cups his hand and Caleb bolts out faster than a cat seeing a dog.

“You were saying?” Harry turns back to YN.

“Look,” she points to the other theatre, the one she’d been standing in front of when Harry bumped into her. “The next showing starts in a bit.”

Harry stares, trying to figure out what she was asking.

“We could watch it?”

“I thought we shouldn’t do this again?”

“Shut up,” she starts walking away.

“Isn’t this illegal?” Harry catches up to her. “I don’t even want to watch this movie.”

“Actually you do,” she grabs his arm and pulls him up the stairs even though he’s following her anyway. Harry tries not to focus on the exact part of his arm she’s touching but it feels warmer than usual. “And secondly nobody is going to kick us out. It doesn’t even matter, do something illegal once in a while.”

Harry follows along with her and they end up having a lot more fun at the second movie. He actually finds it funny and it reminds him of watching these during the holidays with his sister and mum. YN leans her head on his shoulder during an emotional scene and Harry feels like he’s made of clay until she takes it off and laughs at the next scene.

“You had fun, admit it!” YN says as they walk out of the theatre. It was close to midnight now and Harry was planning on walking home.

“Maybe!” Harry doesn’t.

“Liar,” she skips ahead of him. “Secretly you thought my romcom was a lot cooler than your Ape movie.”

“Planet of the Apes, and you enjoyed that one.”

“I’m not denying it,” she shrugs. “C’mon I know you’ve got a sister don’t you watch romcoms with her?”

Harry seems disturbed by the idea, “Not that sort. We watch holiday ones during Christmas but-“

“Oh my god like the Holiday?”

“Yeah I’ve seen that a billion times. And there’s one with Keira Knightley-“

“Oh I bet there is,” she nudges him and Harry blushes. “She does seem your type.”

“Yeah and you probably love Jude Law in The Holiday.”

“Well yeah he’s alright,” she pouts her mouth and doesn’t finish her sentence.

“No way,” Harry laughs. “It’s not Jude Law.”

“You know who’s peng? Tom Hardy. There’s a man I’d watch in a romcom over and over.”

“What?” Harry didn’t know who that was but now he was curious.

“Yeah. You should look him up. Anyway, my ride’s gonna be here any minute so I’m staying here.”

“Oh. Yeah right.” Harry thought they were walking home together but she stays near the closest bus shelter. “Well bye.”

“Bye,” she waves him off.

He doesn’t think he’d see her again that summer. But the next morning she sends him a text saying it was fun and he should come over some time to broaden his romcom education. He thinks she’s joking but the following Tuesday she shows up at his house with DVDs and Percys and although Harry’s mum is surprised to see a girl friend at the house, she orders them pizza and his family gives him the den all to themselves.

After watching two movies back to back and feeling sick from all the junk they’ve consumed they lay on the floor. As evening falls through the wispy curtains of his front window Harry asks YN about her summer and uni. She’s cagey and likes to turn questions around on him but it’s nice talking to her like that with most of her guard down. It almost feels like they’re friends.

***

YN shows up at Harry’s house after dinner. His butt is glued down on his sofa ready to settle into a night of playing video games but the ringing at the door interrupts him.

“Harry!” His sister calls out from somewhere. He was closest to the door and on his way there he peeks through the curtains of the den to see a familiar head of hair. In a cap.

“Hey!” She walks right in.

“Hey…” Harry looks at her get-up: a tanktop and gauzy skirt paired with the trainers she always wore.

“Oh YN,” Harry’s mum pokes her head down from the staircase. “You haven’t been around in a while how are things?”

“Hi Mrs. Styles.” YN was always the perfect angel in front of his parents but his mum was right, it had been a couple weeks since she came by. “I’m good! I’ve been working a few shifts at the shop I do summers at. I had the day off I’m trying to convince Harry to come out with me.”

She was, Harry thought. And she had a summer job?

He’s reminded that no matter how much closer they got, she was always somewhat of a mystery.

“Oh where are you heading out?” Harry’s mum walks down a few steps and sits down.

“There’s a get-together of some of our school friends. Harry never shows up to these things so-“

“Harry,” his mum joins in. “You should go!”

“I never even said no, jeez!” Harry grows flustered.

“But he was totally going to,” YN says to his mum. She laughs and Harry feels peer-pressured.

“Fine! I’ll go.”

“Well be safe,” his mum gets back up. “Make good decisions.”

Harry glares at YN when his mum clears the area and she smiles sweetly back at him.

“Oops.”

“For the record I don’t want to go.”

“Exactly,” she smiles. “Now where’s your room we need to put you in something better than that.”

He was in very comfortable sweatpants and a tee. By the time he was leaving he was in was a short sleeved button-up layered over the same tee and shorts he didn’t even know he owned. She’d forced him to take his glasses off and wear contacts then ruffled his hear with gel and she’d been so close every one of Harry’s senses had been hyper-tuned to her. YN had been oblivious.

“I can’t find my phone,” Harry pats his pockets down as they go downstairs.

“Just leave without it! We’re gonna be late!”

“Can you just call it?” Harry’s halfway up the steps. “I can’t leave without it.”

YN rolls her eyes and calls it. It rings from the den and she walks towards it.

“Seriously?” She walks back out. “You never changed my name?”

Future Prime Minister YN with a heart. It had stayed the same since their group project.

“I guess not,” Harry suddenly feels even more self conscious.

“You can keep the heart,” she goes into his contacts after holding his phone up to his face.

“Hey I never said you could go in!”

“Shush!” She smirks as she updates her name. “There.”

“You don’t want to change the photo?” Harry asks and sighs at her new name: HRH 💖

“No time. Let’s go!” She pushes him out the door.

“I’m going I’m going!” Harry closes the door behind him and they set off down the road.

“You’re so lucky your mum’s so chill,” YN says as they walk.

“Where are we going?” Harry asks.

“My mum thinks I’m at Raina’s watching movies or some shite. Your mum actually like, encouraged you to go out. She didn’t even give you a curfew.”

“Well I never do this,” Harry replies. “What is this anyway.”

“Another bonfire-“

“Does Raina do those like every week?” Harry remembered something about this that night they bumped into each other at the cinema.

“No,” YN says, offended that he would criticize her friend in any way. “The guy she’s seeing right now knows a guy. They do them like a couple times a month. If they did it every week don’t you think someone would catch on?”

Harry shrugs.

“Anyway, you have a decent closet why do you always dress so…boring?”

“I don’t dress boring,” Harry shoves his hand into his pockets. “I’m just comfortable.”

“I’m comfortable,” she points out.

Harry eyes her outfit again, she looked nice and her legs looked particularly nice in the skirt. Harry looks up in the silence he’d just created to find YN staring at him with a raised brow.

“Had a good look?” She punches his arm.

“Ow,” Harry rubs his arm but he deserved it. He’d been oggling. But ever since she’d gotten into his face to run her gelled fingers through his hair, and the cloud of her shampoo or perfume whatever it was closed in around him he’s having a hard time not glancing at her every opportunity.

“Have you got anyone you’re seeing?” Harry asks.

“Nope,” she pops her p. “With uni starting I didn’t really want to let a guy distract me and fuck with my feelings.”

“Wow,” it slips out of Harry’s mouth.

“What?” She narrows her eyes. “And we’re going right here.”

They turn the corner and she asks Harry again what his reaction meant.

“Nothing. I’m just surprised you’re not having a summer fling or something.”

“God Harry, do you think I just date boys to get off or something? I’ve barely had a boyfriend-“

She cuts herself off.

“What?” Harry missed what happened.

“Nothing.”

“Aw c’mon you can’t say ‘nothing’ now,” Harry pushes. After knowing YN this long, she was still scary, but he’d learned where and how to poke at her to get more answers without getting his head bitten off. “You’ve dated plenty of guys.”

“For someone with his nose in a book all the time you claim to know a lot about who I’m dating.”

“It’s hard not to miss what everyone’s talking about.”

“So you believe all the rumours? In that case it’s probably true you cried your first time.”

“What?!” Harry flushes. “Who said that?”

“But rumours are true right?”

“Fine. You just always had one of the football blokes nearby I just-“

“So you just thought I dated the whole team?”

Fuck, Harry realizes he’d screwed up when she starts to speed walk away. He’d spoken before thinking about what it might sound like from her end.

She starts to walk ahead and Harry fastens his pace to catch up. He reaches out and clasps her shoulder. “YN wait I’m sorry. I didn’t think-“

“Whatever,” she brushes his hand off.

He felt awful. He tries again, grabbing her arm this time and she comes to a stop.

“I’m sorry!” He says again. “Just forget I said anything.”

He’s surprised to see her teary eyes when she turns to him.

“What?” She snaps. “Never seen a girl cry before?”

“No I just—I didn’t mean to make you cry-“

“Oh you didn’t make my cry don’t worry,” she huffs. “I just hate how everyone in school always judges me based on their own fucking insecurities.”

Harry pauses, it was true. And he knew YN was only as cutting as she was so she could be taken seriously—so nobody would walk all over her just because she was a girl. He shouldn’t have made that comment, he knew that. He knew better but apparently he still had things to learn.

“I shouldn’t have judged you like that,” Harry mumbles. “I knew better.”

Her mouth parts slightly, YN wasn’t expecting Harry to say a combination of words that actually sounded better than an apology. She forgives him, but she doesn’t let him know.

“Well…you can make it up to me.” YN threads her arm through Harry’s. At first he doesn’t quite know what to do—despite their budding friendship YN rarely showed any affection or even friendliness in public. This was different.

“How? That sounds a bit sinister.”

“You’re going to get drunk with me. I’ve never seen you drunk before, and I want to be able to have embarrassing pictures of you to use next time you make me upset.”

“No way!” Harry unthreads his hand, regretting the decision a little.

“So you’re just gonna go to a party and watch everyone else drink? Your mum would be disappointed!”

“Trust me my mum doesn’t want me to get drunk,” Harry corrects her. “And I don’t drink for a reason. It really doesn’t take much to get tipsy.”

“Really?” YN eyes him. “But you’re tall.”

Harry shrugs, suddenly his heart thuds in his chest as he catches sight of the smoke of the bonfire. This was real—he was actually going to a class party with YN as his company. He had no friends there. This wasn’t his scene. What was he thinking?

“Have we got to do-“

“We’re going,” YN takes his hand and drags it the rest of the way. “We’re going to uni next year and you’re not going to be a party virgin.”

“I’ve been to parties!”

“What? D&D parties?” YN snorts. “You’re going to an outdoor party with drinks and getting drunk. I want you to let loose. Show everyone Harry the nerd is kind of funny?”

“Kind of?” Harry tugs her hand back. “You snorted at my jokes a couple weeks ago.”

YN looks back at him and Harry’s breath is momentarily caught in his throat. The light of the bonfire reflects in her eyes that crinkle at the corners as she looks at him. She has an amused smile fixed on her face. She’s relaxed completely, unguarded.

He wanted more of that, he realizes.

“Oi it’s about time!” Someone notices YN and waves her down. Harry’s forced to follow. “Brought a date did you?”

“Not my date,” YN rolls her eyes.

The group, amongst whom most had been in a lot of his classes, simply stare at him expecting a name or something. Blimey, he realizes nobody recognized him. YN did a good job with her makeover.

“Good,” one particular bloke—tall with a shaggy overgrown mop of hair peels away from the group and slides his arm around YN. She distances herself in one languid move and continues on.

“Are you lot alright?” YN asks. “It’s Harry?”

“Hey Harry,” a few of them say with a removed friendliness. They still couldn’t place him. Harry would have been offended if this wasn’t the last summer he would see them all.

“Okay?” YN turns to Harry with her eyebrow raised and a joke in her eyes like they were on the ins of something together. It warms Harry’s chest with a gentle ease.

“Harry,” shaggy-hair says. “How d’you two know each other?”

“I’m gonna show Har to the drinks,” YN continues ignoring the guy. Harry’s dying to know who that is. “Anyone seen Raina?”

“She was over there a little while ago,” someone motions towards the fire.

This satisfies YN enough. She turns, “Drinks

“Yeah,” Harry feels lighter being here knowing nobody really recognized him. Like he could be anyone. Maybe he was getting a taste of what being at uni would feel like. He liked it.

He asks YN who that guy was when they get enough distance.

“Oh him? We went out a few times, hooked up at a couple parties. He seems to think that means I want him around at any given moment but he’s a bit clingy.”

A bit was an understatement but Harry stays quiet.

“He looks old.”

She laughs, “Yeah maybe cause he’s 21?”

“What’s he doing with a bunch of teens?” Harry asks, puzzled.

“Oh Har,” YN pats his shoulder and laughs. “Let’s get you a drink.”

“Just one drink,” Harry insists.

But after downing the disgustingly hoppy beer YN hands him Harry starts to feel even better being here. Nobody recognizes him, he has YN keeping him company (after she goes to Raina for a bit and comes back grumbling about her new boyfriend), and the energy at the party starts to really take off as someone turns on a playlist and people really start to mingle.

“So you excited about uni?” YN asks. They’re both sitting on a large rock. Yn has her knees tucked into her and her cheek rests on top. She seemed down after coming back from Raina.

“Yeah!” Harry says. “Finally get some bloody freedom, away from this place.”

“This place?” She slides her cheek across her knees to look at him. She looks beautiful, Harry thinks, before sliding his eyes away. It was still hard for him to maintain eye contact with her despite all the evenings they spent together.

“School. These people.”

“Hey they didn’t even recognize you today,” she chuckles. “I did a good job.”

She reached out and brushes one of his curls. Harry inadvertently leans in closer to her.

“I look the exact same,” Harry scoffs.

“No without those big ass glasses you actually look different.”

“Call me Clark Kent then.”

“Clark Kent.”

Harry looks at YN with an are-you-serious expression and she laughs.

“I didn’t actually mean to call me Clark-“

“I know,” she says softly. “I’m trying to annoy you.”

“That’s not hard to do.”

“Hey!” She punches him lightly. “That’s mean. You’re mean when you’re drinking.”

“No I’m not,” was he? He was just being himself here.

“No…you’re not,” she agrees. “But you’re honest. Anyway, you’re living on campus right? That’s lucky.”

“Why don’t you?” Harry asks.

“I can’t,” YN turns her face away again. “I’ve got to stay at home. Things are…complicated. So I’ve just got to commute.”

“Do you think we’ll hang out at uni?” Harry asks and then flushes as he realizes he said it out loud.

“Yeah? Why wouldn’t we?”

Harry shrugs. “We don’t exactly run in the same circles.”

“Look at us now,” she leans into him, nudging his shoulder, and the warmth of her pressed into him is a balm to his melancholy. “We’re not gonna have the same labels in uni. Nobody knows us. We just get to be ourselves.”

“I hope so.” Harry says. “Should I get another drink?”

“Really?” YN sits up. “You want another?”

“Yeah!” Harry suddenly feels energized. “Why fucking not?!”

“Alright!” She hops off and he follows. “You also swear a lot more when you drink. It’s funny.”

“Sorry,” Harry apologizes immediately.

“Don’t be, I like it.” She says and Harry’s heart skips a beat. He floats the rest of the way to the drinks.

He downs half of another beer before he’s recruited to do a keg stand. He’s pretty sure it’s YN’s pretty-boy that jostles him into that crowd. He’d never done one before and YN tries to pull him away but tipsy and brave he gets instructions and allows two strangers to hold him up while he drinks what feels like the equivalent to the Thames.

The boys standing around cheer him on when he stands back up with the longest time out of everyone tonight. If he was anything, Harry was a winner. And he feels powerful: he’s actually seen and celebrated tonight for doing something as stupid as a keg stand. Why didn’t he do this more in school?

“Make way for the goat!” One of the guys shouts.

“You’re all wankers!” Harry shouts. “I just owned you all!”

“Harry,” YN’s hand clasps his and while he shouts celebrations back to the guys he’s dragged away by her.

“It’s Harry right?” A girl he’s never seen before stops YN on her trek to get him far away from the drinks. “I’m Marva.”

“Marva!” Harry pulls his hand from YN and shakes Marva’s. “Nice to meet you…Mara.”

“Yeah nice to meet you,” she smiles. “You’ve got really nice eyes.”

“Thank you Mara. You have really nice teeth.”

“Fucking hell,” YN mutters then louder she says, “Sorry Marva we gotta go. Maybe you can catch up with-“

“Okay I just wanna say that was sick what you did,” Marva points to the keg.

“I’m king of the keg,” Harry says and YN mumbles something to the side but Harry’s too swept in winning, in getting attention from this beautiful girl, to hear.

“Yeah, uhm could I get your number?”

“Uh,” Harry tries to remember his number but it doesn’t come to him. He should remember his number. Why isn’t it coming to him?

“Or I could give you mine?” She says after Harry stands there silently for an uncomfortable minute.

“Yeah,” Harry hands his phone over but his mind keep trying to push through the slosh to remember his number. Soon enough he’s walking away with YN again. “Why is my number? It’s a set of numbers…”

He’s mumbling, an anxious feeling creeping up his chest as he tries to remember.

“Hey,” YN finally allows him to stop. She senses the panic rising in him and lays a hand on his chest. The buzzing stops immediately. “Harry look at me.”

Harry looks down at YN, she was one of the most beautiful women he’s ever seen. He wishes he could hold her face for eternity. He would live in peace.

“Hello?” She snaps her fingers. “You’re not blinking are you alright?”

“Probably not!” Harry laughs. “I just got hit on by a gorgeous girl did you see that?”

“Yes,” she rolls her eyes. “She was impressed by your ability to drink upside down. What a catch.”

“I am a catch,” Harry motions to the water behind them. “I’m a fish in the sea.”

“Oh my god,” YN laughs. “You’re ridiculous is what you are. That’s a river I thought you were smart.”

“I’m cool now.”

She brushes his hair again, “give a nerd a new hair style,” she drags her hands over his eyes, “put him in contacts,” she continues tracing her hand down his face to his chest, “put him in new clothes-“

She cuts herself off when Harry grasps her hand against his chest. He was sure she could feel his heart racing inside.

They stare silently at each other, the darkness cushioning them on either side until it feels like they’re the only two beings in the night. Like they’re drifting in the dark, tethered only by hands and gazes.

Harry tilts forward, YN doesn’t move back. So he closes the distance and presses his lips to hers, they’re as soft as he imagined. They’re the best lips he’s ever kissed.

Maybe he imagines it, maybe it was a drunk fantasy, but for a brief second she presses her lips against his; she closes her eyes and kisses him back.

The next second, she’s shoving him backwards and scrambling away. Her look of shock and betrayal cuts right through the fog in his brain.

“What the fuck?” She shouts. “Did-did you just fucking kiss me?”

“I’m sorry!” Harry feels his heart in his throat, why did he think she would ever want to kiss him? She was YN, he was just Harry. “I don’t-I’m not I-“

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” She wipes the back of her hand against her mouth, adding assault to injury. “Why would you do that?!”

“YN,” Harry stumbles forward but she peddles backward. It’s another punch added, almost deflating him entirely. “I didn’t mean—I’m drunk I’m sorry-“

“Being drunk isn’t a fucking excuse,” she spits.

“I know! I’m sorry!”

“Goddamnit! You’re just like every other asshole of a guy. I thought we were friends! But of course you get drunk and try to kiss me-“

“It’s not like that!” Harry tries to tell her. He was just braver drunk but he’s been in love with her a long time. After hanging out this whole summer he just thought they had a moment there. He read the signs wrong; apparently a bookworm could read wrong.

Maybe he would never be good at this whole people thing.

“Then what?” YN seethes. “Then why the hell—why did you try to kiss me Harry? You don’t even like me why would you kiss me?!”

“I…” he doesn’t know what to say. Of course he liked her. He more than liked her; YN changed his life and he’s starting to like who she makes him be.

But nothing will make this situation better. And the worst part is he feels her slip away, right through his fingers. It’s like one of those jelly toys from when he was a kid; the harder he gripped the easier it slipped away.

“Get fucked Harry,” YN swears. She turns and leaves. She leaves him and he doesn’t think she’ll ever come back.

When the rush of adrenaline subsides Harry empties the contents of his stomach. With his head swimming he picks himself up and finds his way out. With a final glance at the party he’d just felt king of, he spots YN tucked into the body of shaggy-hair and his stomach turns. Why did he ever think she’d want him? Girls like her didn’t end up with guys like him. Why did he ever come to this stupid party in the first place and get drunk? This wasn’t him. Uni or not, maybe he was never meant to change all that much.

***

Harry looks around his half of the dorm he’s just finished putting together with a proud smile. At last the day had come, he had successfully escaped the shackles of school and all its taunting and made it to the uni of his choice. Despite only being a 1.5 hour train ride from home Harry chose to get the full uni experience and live on campus. His life was going to change, he could feel it.

That is, until his roommate walked in.

Messy hair, backwards baseball cap, crewneck and baggy jeans and massive headphones on. Harry already types him in his mind—how the hell did the dorm board pair the two of them together?

“Aw marra,” he holds his hand out sideways and Harry clasps his hand and lets his body gets tugged into his roommate’s bony shoulder. “Harry right?”

“Yeah,” Harry tries to find his balance again. “Roderick?”

“Just Rod yeah,” Roderick throw his duffel bag onto the bed and points behind him. “Give me a hand with the other bags?”

Harry wasn’t much for lifting heavy things but he didn’t want to start off on the wrong foot with someone he’d be living with the next year. So he goes.

“When did you get here?” He asks.

“Last night,” Harry wanted to get in before everyone else and avoid the crowds of people. He knew it would be a good way to meet others and make friends—his sister told him the first week was when you made most of them, but he did what we wanted.

Rod barely hears him as they get the last of his bags. “It was packed to shite trying to get in here. Where’d you come in from?”

“London,” Harry answers.

“And you’re staying here? On campus?”

“Yeah, I didn’t want to do the commute everyday. Felt like a waste of time.”

“Yeah that’d be crazy.” His roommate agrees.

“What about you?” Harry remembers to ask.

“Sunlun,” he replies. Harry hadn’t heard of it, and reminds himself to look it up later. “I was right ready to lose it driving here. My mam drove me-“

“Oh is she around?” Harry asks.

“No,” Rod laughs. “I’m not starting school trailing after her. But I promised her I’d have a meal with her after moving my—hey you should come!”

Harry has a hard time keeping up with Roderick, despite having longer legs than him he walks as fast as he talks and he talks with an accent that takes a minute to filter through for understanding.

“I couldn’t-“

“No you’re coming,” Rod claps Harry on the back. “She would love seeing that my roommate’s someone like you.”

Someone like you, what did that mean? But on some level Harry knows just by comparing Roderick’s outfit and Harry’s slacks and spotless crewneck.

Harry has no choice but he gets a free meal out of it. Roderick’s mum is sweet and by the end of the meal he understands his roommate a lot better, knows everything about where he’s from—Sunderland, and is invited to “drop by for tea” anytime he’s up north.

Roderick invites Harry to a get-together for first years happening somewhere off campus but Harry feels sensed out and tells him he was calling it a night. Rod looks disappointed but leaves without him. Harry almost feels disappointed in himself. He was supposed to have a different life being in uni, but he didn’t want to make old mistakes and try to be someone he wasn’t.

***

Freshers week is both invigorating and exhausting for Harry as he tries to navigate all of the personalities and social groups without falling back into his usual ways. He attends the talks and the tours, one in which he meets Mikey who was also planning on joining debate club. Harry goes to mixers and breaks so much ice he’s sure he could get a part time job as an ice sculptor.

Harry also attends the workshops and he meets a few more friends there, but mostly when he signs up for clubs he’s interested and goes to their mixers he finds people he clicks with very easily. He doesn’t spot Rod once or anyone else he would have known from school.

On Thursday Harry heads to Newsroom Society Club which was a fancy title for the uni’s reporting club. He has a few new friends he’s made, Florence from one of the workshops and Gabriel who lived in the same hall as Harry as well as Mikey. They were all interested in being part of reporting—the newspaper or the podcast.

Harry stumbles into a projector when he spots her.

“You alright?” Gabriel grabs Harry’s jacket to hold him steady. All eyes are on him as the slideshow on the wall tips off balance and he’s bright as a tomato.

“Yeah I didn’t see that there,” Harry lies.

“Kinda hard to miss,” YN pipes in from where she stands.

Looking at her reminds Harry of the summer. It felt like a dream looking back on it, how they became friends and then quickly drifted off after he stupidly misread her cues and tried to kiss her. Although it was one of the few times he had gotten drunk and he was out of his depth when it happened. But YN had avoided him after that. He knew they were going to the same school but he didn’t think he’d see her this early on.

Harry’s new friends eye YN, assuming she was being rude just because. But when Harry acknowledges her they settles down.

“YN. Hi.” Harry waves awkwardly.

“Harry,” she says coolly.

“You’re here for the paper?”

“The show actually,” YN nods. The girl she’s talking to touches her arm and motions she was heading elsewhere.

“Oh me too,” Florence pipes in. “I’m Florence by the way.”

“I’m Mikey,” his other friend says as if Flo opened a gateway to YN. “I’m also interested in it. Not sure if I’m staying though.”

YN eyes his friends and returns her gaze to Harry. “Neat. I’m YN.”

“You two know each other?” Mikey asks.

“Yeah,” Harry says as YN says “Unfortunately.”

There’s an awkward beat as the group tries to figure out if she’s joking it not. When her lips curl into a small smile and they take the cue to laugh. It amazed Harry how well YN could command a group. Even now.

“Are you going for any other clubs?” Flo continues asking YN.

“I was thinking tennis, I used to play.” YN says and Harry’s surprised to hear that. He’s reminded he didn’t know her much—he never really got to know her that well despite all the time together. She was a closed book on a lot of things. “How about you?”

“Yeah I’m thinking of joining the volunteer committee!”

“Yeah what do they do?” YN asks. “Obviously volunteering but like-“

She doesn’t need to correct herself any further as Flo launched into a onboarding speech about volunteer committee. And Harry’s mesmerized by YN as she listens to Flo attentively, it’s different to the way she interacted with him or Mikey or a lot of people. When she feels him staring her eyes flick up to meet his and then back to Flo. She does it again and he takes the hint, looking away.

He flushes remembering the summer, how things started so well and ended so terribly.

YN ends up sticking to their group as the club organizers gather everyone to do a small introduction of the Newsroom Society. When it ends and they’re left to mingle Harry’s friends ask him what they were going to do for lunch.

“I’m easy, we can go anywhere.”

“I wanted to catch the fencing match they have going on at 2,” Gabriel says. “I might stay behind-“

“Let’s just do the caf.” Harry decides.

Florence turns back to YN who’s with her friend again. “Hey we were gonna grab lunch in the caf would you want to join? Both of you?”

YN meets Harry’s eye and an awkward energy sizzles between the two. It happens so quickly.

“Soph?” YN asks her friend.

“Eh,” she shrugs. “Okay. I’m Sophie by the way…”

Introductions are made all over again and YN and Harry are left herding the crowd from behind at the end if it.

“Hi,” Harry says as they fall into step.

She eyes him first before responding, “Hi.”

Silence as the group ahead chatters away.

“How’ve you been?” Harry attempts small talk.

“Fine.” She replies without returning the question. Harry gets the hint and grits his teeth. It was frustrating knowing she had glued herself shut and it would require a tool he didn’t have to get her to open again.

At lunch she continues to gloss over anything he says and talking with everyone enthusiastically but him, making him feel like he was in secondary all over again.

“We should do this again,” Florence suggests. “You guys are fun.”

Harry thinks Flo just liked having girls to talk to since most of the friends she’d made so far had been Harry and his.

“Yeah,” Soph agrees. “Maybe we’ll all make the Newsroom Society. Flo I think I’ll come to the volunteer thing with you next week just text me when it is.”

Somehow Harry’s friends intermingle with YN’s and by the time classes actually starts he’s seen YN socially more often than he had in secondary.

“YN,” Harry catches her walking out of their international business course. He’d found they had two classes together despite deciding different majors.

She glances up at her name and upon seeing Harry continues walking.

“Hey YN,” he walks ahead enough to stop her.

“Hey. What?” She asks.

“Can we talk?”

She raises a brow.

“C’mon,” Harry turns and hopes she’ll follow. She does. He leads them to a seating area for students in the building’s courtyard. “We should talk.”

“About?”

“Us.” Harry fidgets. “Look, I know what I did last summer wasn’t right. And being drunk wasn’t an excuse. I…I misread the signs and I’m really sorry. I didn’t mean to betray your trust like that and. Yeah. I’m really sorry. If we’re gonna hang out and be mates, it’s weird when you’re always mad at me.”

She stares at him for an uncomfortable period and Harry can’t hold eye contact the whole time.

“How many times did you practice saying that?” She asks with a straight expression.

He laughs, “A few times.”

Like the sun after a thunderstorm, her smile slowly brightens the rest of her face as it stretches over her face.

“For the record, don’t ever try to kiss me ever again.” YN lists on her fingers. “Secondly, there will never be signs between us as anything more than friends so just…don’t look for them. We’re just friends.”

“Got it,” Harry mock salutes.

“I’m not done,” she holds up three fingers. “Thirdly, it’s nice seeing you be less…secondary Harry.”

“What?”

“Y’know like, bookish awkward nerdy Harry. You’ve actually got friends, I saw you at a couple parties. It’s nice!”

“Oh,” Harry didn’t think YN thought about him at all. He thought he went back to being a nobody but she was still noticing things about him. Things he thought only he had picked up on.

She was right—he felt more himself the longer he was at uni. It wasn’t easy but he found it easier to make decisions about people and friends, emotions and conversations when the pressure to fit into a box fell away.

Of course, Harry still struggled connecting with his roommate. After declining his initial invite to a party Rod mostly kept to himself and sometimes Harry was asked to give him privacy a few hours some evenings. Harry usually obliged, wanting to still be friends with Roderick.

One of the parties YN saw him at must have been one Rod invited him to. It was the first time he’d really spoken to him since that first day. And Harry had gone to the party just to reduce the friction with Rod. It went over well, he’d even chatted up a girl.

“Anyway,” YN hitches her bag onto her shoulder. “My next class is much later in the day so I’m gonna find a place to crash until then.”

“When is it?”

“Like, 5?”

“Shit, you commuted for our 10 and have to stay that late?”

“Yeah,” she sighs. “It was the only way I could fit both classes into this semester.”

“D’you…” Harry reconsiders the rules she’d given him. He didn’t think this was breaking any. “D’you want to come go my dorm? You could…nap or something.”

Her face lights up, “Wait really?”

“Yeah?”

“Um yeah? If that’s alright if-“

“Yeah,” Harry’s pleased to be able to offer something that’s made her light up. “Yeah c’mon. My roommate should be out. My next class is at half past 1 though.”

“That’s enough time for a nap,” YN says as she falls into step beside him.

“You don’t have to leave.” Harry tells her. “You can stay while I’m in class.”

That’s how Harry finds himself walking out of his dorm quietly so as not to wake a sleeping YN. She had knocked out soon after getting into his sheets, and he’s thankful he’d just washed them over the weekend after accidentally spilling tea all over them.

He felt bad that she had to commute for nearly 2 hours and stay the whole day for an evening class. He gives her an open invitation to use his dorm as a hotel when she wanted. She’d corrected him it was more like a motel, and then said his bedsheets smelled surprisingly nice for a motel.

Harry has a smile for most of his walk to class.

Near the end of class his phone vibrates with a text.

Roderick: there’s a girl sleeping on your bed?

Shit, Harry didn’t think he’d be back before him.

Harry: that’s just YN, sorry hope you don’t mind.

R: nah I just wasn’t expecting it lol

H: she’s just crashing

R: she single?

H: what happened to the girl you were hooking up with last week?

Despite not talking a lot, Harry still had the lowdown on who Rod was hooking up with because of the revolving door of girls.

R: mate. That was last week.

Harry rushes back from class but to his surprise he finds YN sitting in bed braiding her hair while Rod leans against his desk explaining something about Sunderland.

“Oh hey Harry,” YN says when he walks in.

“Hey,” Harry tries not to sound too out of breath. “Uh I see you two’ve met.”

“Yeah. YN’s pretty cool, where’ve you been hiding her?”

“I’m not-“

“Ew,” YN cuts him off. “Do they not teach manners in Sunderland?”

Harry watches, for the first time since he’s met him, Roderick stammer and look uncertain.

“Anyway,” YN gets off the bed and adjusts her clothes. “Thanks for letting me crash.”

Harry watched Rod get a hold of himself and YN put her bag back together again. That was the privilege of being so beautiful, she could shame guys like Rod into behaving themselves.

“See you Friday?” YN tells Harry. They had a Newsroom Society meeting. Harry ended up making the cut for the paper along with Gabriel and Flo. YN had made it for the podcast and this week was when they first got assignments.

“Yeah,” Harry says. YN walks past him, squeezing him arm and walking out.

“Marra,” Rod blow the air out of his cheeks. “She’s….something. You should invite her to the party Friday if she’s on campus.”

“Yeah I’ll ask,” Harry says. Weird how the tables have turned, he thinks. Here he would be, inviting YN to a party.

***

Harry doesn’t get a chance to catch up with YN until after Newsroom. He asks her if she was doing anything afterwards.

“Nope,” she rubs her temple. “I have a Saturday shift to work so I was just gonna head home after this.”

“Oh.” Harry says. He forgot she worked. “I was gonna invite you to this party-“

“You?” She points to him and laugh. “You’re inviting me?”

“Erm yeah?”

“I love it.” She says seriously.

“Yeah,” a smile tugs at his lips. “I know. But if you’re busy-“

“Oh no. I’ll show up to a party you’re inviting me to, where is it?”

Harry gives her the place. She tells him one of her friends was trying to get here there too.

“Whatever, I’ll just suffer the consequences tomorrow. Although I’m not dressed for a party at all.”

Harry eyes her hoodie and jeans. Even he knew YN dressed up more for parties.

“Too bad you’re not a girl,” she sighs. “I could just borrow something from your closet.”

“How about the friend you mentioned?”

“She lives a town over so she commutes. Wait, let me see your closet maybe we can make something work.”

“Don’t you make fun of my closet?”

“No I make fun when you wear it. It might look hot on me.”

The idea of YN looking hot in his clothes forces the blood to rush to his head and he has to take a few deep breaths before trailing behind.

Rod’s nowhere in sight when they get to his dorm. Harry unloads his backpack and splays out on his bed, tired from the day and really not wanting to go to any parties.

“This could be cute,” YN unhooks a plain white tee from his closet and throws it on his bed. She picks up a sweater and a short-sleeved button up. She holds them up to her and instructs him to turn around while she tries it on.

Harry’s so tired that turned around he ends up falling asleep, half his body still dangling off the bed.

While uni was really fun for him, and getting to explore different sides of him and learn a whole lot, it was a constant rotation of something. Sometimes he wondered if he should drop a class or a club just to give himself some breathing room. Or sleeping room. But Harry wasn’t a quitter. Instead he was tired a lot of the time and felt like he was constantly catching up.

“Hello,” Harry’s woken by a vigorous shaking. YN peers down at him, lashes long and coated in mascara probably. Her lips are painted a deep pink and she’s put her hair down.

“How did you…” Harry blinks at her.

“I had some makeup in my bag, I just touched it up while you slept.” She sits down beside him. “Now what are you wearing and when are we leaving?”

“I’m just wearing this,” Harry motions to his jeans and hoodie. She raises a brow. “Wait what are you-“

He notices what she’s wearing. His white tee that hangs loose on him has been tightened into a single point on YN’s ribcage, baring her midriff. She’s kept her jeans on but somehow despite only swapping out one item of clothing she looks magnetic.

“Wow.”

“I know right,” she gets up to allow him the full picture even though he didn’t want to ogle any more. “I just went with one of your tees, used a hair tie to style it. I’ll wear my bomber on top. And you can change your hoodie at least. You’ll look like a slob in that, it’s not going to impress any girls.”

“What if I don’t want to impress any girls?”

“Don’t forget I caught you flirting with Sophie last week.” She warns him.

It was embarrassing, Soph had been talking through one of the articles they were assigned to think about for Newsroom and it had turned flirty when Sophie started teasing him. Harry had recently felt more confident in the girl department and he’d flirted back until YN had dropped into the conversation pretending to gag at Harry.

Harry wondered if Sophie would be at the party. He should have texted her to ask.

“Let’s not talk about that.”

“I would actually love to talk about that,” she grins. “But I do want to head out. So wear this and let’s go.”

She throws Harry a crewneck and taps her foot. When she doesn’t make a move to look away he changes in front of her and doesn’t meet her eye.

“You’ve got a tattoo?” YN sounds surprised as he gets his arms into the crewneck.

“Huh?” Harry realizes she’s staring at his ribcage. He forgot he had a tattoo, not often looking at himself naked in the mirror. “Oh yeah. Caleb and I got it for our 18th before we went to uni. He’s moved to Canada for uni so-“

“You’re full of surprises aren’t you.” YN says in a quieter voice than usual. Harry’s hands are still trapped in his sweater, halfway to his head, when she steps closer and traces her hand over the numbers. Her hands are cold and unexpected and he gasps.

“Sorry,” she looks up at him but he can barely look at her. She was touching his bare torso. “Was that cold?”

“Yeah,” Harry clears his throat.

“Any others?” She asks.

He shakes his head, his voice sticking in his throat. He couldn’t move, he was too busy concentrating on breathing.

He slowly pulls his jumper on the rest of the way and only when they head out does he feel safe enough to talk. He tells YN how he planned on getting more tattoos eventually, once he figured out what he liked. It was a bit scary being so permanent but he liked the way he could express himself or hold memories on his skin.

They talk about it until they reach the dorms the party was at.

“Catch you inside,” YN says as they enter. “Don’t get too drunk.”

“Never again” Harry shouts after her. She waves without turning around.

He thought they would hang out here together but he finds himself wandering the dorms until he spots Mikey. He becomes absorbed in Mikey’s group of friends and forgets he’d been here with YN.

At some point Harry finds himself the centre of attention of a girl from his intro to biology class. Mary. She’s cute with a shoulder-length brown hair and animated eyes. When she smiles at Harry he feels his heart flutter.

“What about weirdest?” She asks Harry. They were talking about their shared interest in cults.

“Raelian,” Harry responds. “Have you heard of them?”

“Ooh no tell me about it,” she shuffles closer to him in the stranger’s room they were talking in. Harry had been nursing his drink for the last couple hours and he’d nearly made it look like it was done.

His phone vibrates in his pocket and he ignores it. When it goes off again Mary raises her brow.

“D’you need to get that?”

“I dunno,” Harry pulls out YN flipping him off on screen. He still hadn’t changed her photo.

“Harry!” He hears his name shouted from the hall just as the call ends.

“Is somebody actually calling you?” Mary furrows her brows.

“I don’t-“ his name is shouted again but louder.

The two of them shuffle to the hall and YN’s unmistakable face comes into view.

“Harry!” She says in a loud and happy tone. “I found you!”

“YN,” Harry glances at Mary nervously. She seems concerned. “What happened?”

“What didn’t happen amirite?” She elbows him. “Anyway. I don’t feel well and I am going home.”

“Drunk?” Harry scratches his head. “I don’t know if that’s a good idea. You’ve got like nearly 2 hours on the train.”

“And?” She shrugs. “I’ll sleep it off.”

“You can’t do that.” Harry insists.

“Well good thing you’re,” she points her finger into his chest and tilts forward. “Not the boss of me. Oh hey. We haven’t met!”

She spots Mary beside him and she bows to her.

“Heh. Harry. And Mary.” YN points between them.

“D’you need help?” Mary asks. “With her?”

“I don’t need help!” YN shouts. “I’m cool. I’m fun. I’m totally alright.”

“You’re really not,” Harry grits his teeth. He was finally hitting it off with Mary and of course YN had to go and get drunk and ruin it.

Technically he did invite her to the party though. Did that make her his responsibility? Harry wasn’t too sure about that sort of thing.

“I did an amazing job at Ring of Fire,” YN slurs. “Phe-nnnnn-omm-enal.”

“I am going to get her out of here,” Harry tells Mary. He twists his mouth to the side and hopes he looks as sorry as he felt. “I invited her so…”

“That’s alright! That’s what friends are for right?” She smiles. “I’ll see you in class?”

“Yeah!” Harry nods. “I’ll see you.”

With a final exchange of smiles Harry grabs YN by the shoulders and gets her out of the building. The whole time she talks about random things from the night that Harry couldn’t care less about.

“YN why did you get so bloody drunk,” Harry says outside his building. It was a co-ed so it wouldn’t be out of the ordinary for both of them to go in but Harry wanted to sneak her into his room.

“I didn’t mean to,” she says. “I wasn’t even gonna stay this long.”

Her voice pitches down and she becomes droopier in Harry’s arms. His arms hurt; he should use the gym on campus more often.

“What happened?” Harry continues to entertain her.

She doesn’t say until they reach his room. He prays Rod would still be at the party and breathes a sigh of relief when the other side of the room is empty.

“Sit here,” Harry places YN on his bed and finds a water bottle for her. “Drink.”

“I can’t, I need to piss.”

Harry groans. “Why didn’t you say earlier?”

“I forgot,” she whispers. “Sorry.”

He points the toilets out to her and leaves the door open a crack so she can find her way back. Her mascara’s running when she gets back.

“Were you crying?” He asks.

“No! I tried to take this stupid stuff off.” She sighs. “It really is waterproof.”

Harry shakes his head, YN was a right state and he didn’t really know what to do. She’s always the one in control and in command. He remembers his sister using makeup wipes but he didn’t have any. He improvises with kleenex but she complains that it hurt. He tries dousing one in water but the makeup barely budges.

“Just let me sleep in it,” she complains.

“And get it all over my bedsheets?” Harry shakes his head. “No way.”

“Oils,” YN leans back in his bed anyway. “If you’ve got oil. Or balms. Whatever.”

Harry rummages through the room and manages to find a hair product his sister bought him with oils. He puts some on the kleenex but YN is snoring in bed by the time he gets up to her.

“C’mon,” he taps her face. “Did you seriously fall asleep already?”

“No,” YN cracks an eye open. “I’m up.”

“Good. Here use this.” He offers her the wipe but she whines until Harry gives in and helps her wipe it off. It makes his heart race and he tries not to breathe her in too much. Despite smelling like a brewery, underneath that she smells like YN. The one he knew last summer.

“You can’t sleep in my bed with this on.” Harry complains. Who knows where those jeans have been.

“M’not sleeping in my underwear,” she mumbles. “You wish.”

“Trust me I don’t,” Harry didn’t even sleep in his underwear. “I’ll give you some sweatpants. Please change into them.”

“You’re the worst,” she whines. But does as he says, moving like a sloth. She peels off his tshirt and slides into his sheets and Harry avoids looking at her in her sports bra. At least it wasn’t a lacy one.

She was just a friend. They had both made an agreement. Friends slept in the same bed. He’d probably shared a bed with Caleb before—this was fine.

Harry creeps under his sheets and tries to keep space between YN and himself but she tucks herself into his side and is out like a light.

***

Harry wakes to a shock of cold on his thigh. His eyes rip open and he yanks himself away from the freeze.

It takes him a moment to register YN giggling beside him.

“What the fuck!” Harry groans and turns on his back. At some point he’d turned towards YN and they’d probably slept facing each other. It was better than any other alternative he figured.

“Sorry,” she says without sounding a single bit sorry. “I just had to do it.”

“I literally let you crash in the same tiny bed as me and you repay me like that!?” Harry says to the ceiling. Sleep still tries to pull him back in but he fights it—with YN up he probably wasn’t going to get any more sleep.

“Okay no I shouldn’t have done that sorry.” She apologizes. “You wouldn’t happen to have like paracetamol or-“

“It’s in the desk drawer—what are you—ow!”

YN had started climbing over him as he answered and nearly kneed him between the legs.

“Sorry!” She whispers. Harry glances at his roommate to find him sleeping in his bed. He hoped Rod was too drunk to notice YN in his bed when he came in.

Harry decides to just get up then and eventually he walks YN to the bus terminal both of them full on caf coffee and breakfast. She was going to cut it close for her shift but she didn’t seem to care.

“Thanks for taking care of me last night,” YN says as the bus comes into view. She doesn’t look him in the eye as she says it and he can barely look at her saying it. “You didn’t have to and you did.”

“It’s nothing,” Harry says, equally uncomfortable with YN’s vulnerability.

“I saw an ex,” she meets his gaze. “I didn’t think I’d run into him after all this time. That’s kinda why I drank more than I intended. I wasn’t supposed to inconvenience you—hey, weren’t you talking to some girl last-“

“Yeah,” Harry hoped Mary wasn’t too weirded out by YN. “It’s fine. I’ve got class with her.”

“Oh I’m sorry,” she slaps her hand to her forehead. “I hope I didn’t make things weird. I owe you.”

“It’s alright,” Harry finally meets her eye and realizes it was alright. He could be friends with YN and maybe this could work. “It’s what friends do.”

“Really?” She asks.

He nods. “I’ll help you home from any party.”

“Awww,” she wrings her arms around Harry’s neck and he takes a step back to steady her. He forces his brain to think only friendly thoughts, and not how steady his hand feels on her lower back or how nice her hair smells, as he returns the hug. “That’s the sweetest thing you’ve ever said.”

She leans back and pats his face. “You’re growing up so much. Look at how much nicer you are.”

Harry blushes and she laughs at him as she runs to catch the bus. He watches the bus wink out of sight and sighs.

It was in part thanks to YN he’s grown so much, she forced him out of his shell and pointed out all the ways his intellect can get in the way of being a nice person. And being out of school helped the rest of the way; Harry’s contemplative on his walk back home.

***

“What about orange juice and biscuits?” Mary asks.

Harry thinks about it before shaking his head, “No. it doesn’t make sense.”

The two were having dinner together in the caf. Ever since the party last month they’ve spent more time together in between classes. They weren’t dating but there was a heavy chemistry between them. Harry didn’t realize, Mary was just waiting for them to make the first move.

“Crisps and jam?”

“Why?” Harry scrunches his face imagining the weird food combination. Mary was reading off an article she was reading when he sat down at her table.

She shrugs, “Apparently it’s moreish.”

Harry liked Mary a lot but he sometimes felt he paled next to her, like if he asked her out and she really got to know him she might not like him as much. So he kept her at arm’s length.

“What’s more-ish is the bile coming up my throat thinking of that.”

“A lot of these are pregnancy cravings!” Mary says. “What do we know?”

“Who’s pregnant?” Flo asks as she sits beside Mary. Mikey joins the table too.

“Nobody’s pregnant,” Harry corrects. “We’re just reading an article.”

“No actually, the computer science prof that everyone hates is pregnant. She’s not teaching next semester anyone who’s interested should take it then.” Flo informs the group.

“Can you imagine?” Mary turns to her. “Being so hated that the one semester you’re not teaching there’s a massive waiting list on your course?”

The group begins to discuss this particular prof and Harry fades into a listener. Mary catches his eye a few times and sends a bright smile his way and Harry keeps it tucked within.

Now a couple months into uni Harry was starting to find a rhythm that he was able to ride. He had more friends than he’s ever had, regularly went to parties and hung out with them, Rod and him were good friends by some way of YN, and uni challenged Harry’s brain in a good way.

Him and YN didn’t hang out very much but he often saw her at parties, in the Newsroom, or if he came back to his dorm while she napped. If had become part of their regular schedule for her to use his dorm to nap and Harry was more than happy to let her. Rod was too—even happier than Harry sometimes.

“Are you going to the Halloween thing Harry?” Mikey asks.

“Huh?” Harry had zoned out. “Uh I think so. Yeah. Why not?”

“Awesome,” Flo says. “We should go together.”

“We’re not doing matching costumed Flo,” Harry says for the tenth time this month.

“Why not?!” She cries. The table becomes noisy again as they argue the same thing they’ve argued since October started. Harry feels at home.

***

Just finished my mid-term, Harry texts Mary. We should celebrate with drinks later.

Yeah after I finish mine later today, would love to. Mary texts back.

Harry smiles at his phone and switches chat to YN.

Are you still at mine?

She doesn’t reply and Harry figures she’s either sleeping or maybe writing a mid-term. He knew she had one later this afternoon—the same class as Mary.

Uni turned out to be a small world, he’d found a few people he already knew in these halls and somehow new friends and old acquaintances had all mingled together.

The good thing was now that he regularly wore contacts and started putting in some effort in how he looked, a lot of his old classmates either walked past him with no recognition or spoke to him like they weren’t the reason he had one friend in secondary.

It still took some adjusting to: here he was, bottom-rung at his old school, asking someone at the top rung if she was still sleeping in his bed. It was mad.

Harry turns the key of his door and freezes at what’s before him.

His roommate Roderick sits on his bed with his back to the wall and someone looking very much like—no it was YN because her jacket lay on his bed, straddling his lap. YN and his roommate were making out.

“What is this?” Harry asks when his senses return. “What’s going on?”

“Oh hey Har,” Rod looks past YN. He was so casual, Harry felt a little crazy at thinking this was a big deal.

“Oh,” YN turns and unhooks her legs from around Rod. “You’re done your exam. How was it?”

Were they insane it was he just a prude? Harry’s roommate was making out with his friend. That regularly crashed in his room. Has this been going on for a while?

“Good. Fine. YN can we talk?” Harry asks.

“Sure,” YN climbs off the bed and fixes her lipstick whilst passing the mirror. Harry nods to the hall and she steps out. “What’s up?”

“What…what’s going on there?”

“What? Rod?”

“Obviously!”

“Oh my god Har, it’s nothing serious we were just making out.”

“For how long?”

“I dunno? Why do you want to know?”

“No like how long have you two been hooking up?”

“We were just making out today why’ve you got your panties in a twist?”

“So this is the first time?”

“No…we made out at a party last week. Anyway I was just studying on your bed after getting a nap in and he walked in. It got flirty, one thing led to another-“

“I’m not comfortable with this.” Harry clenched his teeth. He didn’t know why but it felt wrong they were doing this in his room. After he’d opened it up for her to give her a break from the constant commuting. What if things go sour between them and Rod takes it out on him? What if she ruins the vibe of their dorm?

“Harry,” YN lays a hand on his shoulder with a serious face. “You know I’ve kissed boys before. Done even more than-“

“This isn’t a joke,” Harry brushes her hand off. “I don’t feel comfortable with you doing…that in the room.”

“So now you’re deciding who I can see-“

“No!” Harry shouts a bit too loud and someone on the other end of the hall looks up. “No. You know that’s not what I’m saying. I don’t care who you hook up with YN. Just not in my room with my roommate. Do whatever you want with him at parties but not in my room. I don’t care what you do. Just…not in my room.”

Harry shuts up once he realizes he’s repeating himself. He hopes she understands.

“Fine.” She does her classic move. She shuts down. “I’ll be a devout virgin in your room. Outside I’ll be the wild child I am.”

“YN don’t twist this,” Harry sighs. “Why do you do that?”

“I’ve got an exam in a couple hours.” She opens the door. “I should go.”

“Already?” Rod says as they walk in.

“Harry’s made a request about us,” YN shoots him a look and Harry wants to take that look and throw it back at her. He was going to break it to Rod differently knowing how tenuous the balance of their friendship was. But now she’s just dropped it like a bomb in the middle of their dorm.

“What?” Rod looks at Harry.

Harry flushes but he tries to look at Rod when he tells him, “I think it’s weird you two making out here. You can do that anywhere just not here. My roommate and my friend…it’s weird.”

Rod blinks, Harry thinks he’s zoned out until he shrugs. “Nee bother. I respect it Harry. I’ll catch you out there then YN.”

YN looks between the boys, her hands holding her bag are curled into fists and with one last angry look to Harry she exits the room.

“Doesn’t look like she’s too chuffed with you man.” Rod pipes in from behind.

She wasn’t chuffed with him half the time, Harry was now used to it.

***

The Halloween party is packed like sardines and Harry considers leaving. Mary had come down with a flu and she’d also been avoiding him the last week. Gabe said she’s probably tired of him not doing anything about their mutual crush, Flo thinks she needs space, and YN says she found someone new to fantasize about but Harry thinks the last one is mostly to get under his skin.

Ever since that day in his dorm YN’s gone back to being bristly with Harry. It doesn’t bother him most days but it does frustrate him on a few.

“Harry!” A familiar face waves him down. The party was in off-campus student res and it was decorated like somebody had gone batshit on Amazon. Just walking toward Sophie, Harry had gotten a faceful of smoke, fake cobwebs, and bubbles for some reason.

“Soph! How’s it going?” Harry hadn’t seen Sophie since she quit Newsroom a few weeks ago. With midterms and club deadlines clashing she decided she couldn’t do both and left the club.

“So much better,” her brightened eyes and large smile fixed on her face clued Harry in that she’d already started drinking. “But I miss the Newsroom crew. How is everyone?”

“We’re fine—you know you could still hang out with us? We’re around.”

“Ugh I know,” she sways towards him. “But I feel like I hardly have time to be social. Social. Does that sound weird—so-shul?”

“I think you’re a bit drunk Soph,” Harry points to her cup.

“Oh yeah,” she laughs. “What about you? You don’t even have a drink!”

“I…I was gonna go get one.” Harry lies. He was actually gonna go home.

“Okay! Someone had shots going.”

She grabs his hand and it tingles. She races around until she finds the half-empty vodka and demands Harry do shots with her. He nearly chokes on it and coughs uncontrollably which sets Soph off.

“Are you alright?” She slaps his back harder than she looks like she could. “You need a chaser hold up!”

She disappears behind the table and pulls out lime wedges from god knows where. She instructs Harry how to do it even though he didn’t want any more but she doesn’t relent.

The second time is a lot smoother but Harry realizes he really did not like vodka either.

“Soph! Har! You two know each other?!” Roderick suddenly walks in on them, crashing the two with an arm around both. “Small worlds!”

“Hey Rod,” Soph’s glow dims a little.

“Now what kind of hello is that? And what are you supposed to be?”

“Scream queen right?” Harry asks as Soph says “Scream Queen duh?”

Rod frowns and takes his arms down. “Well I can make you scream, qu-“

“Alright,” Harry and Soph eye each other. Harry has been to enough parties with Rod to know what level of drunk meant what level of no filter. And it was best they left him alone now. “We’ll see you around mate.”

“Thank you,” Soph whispers in his ear as she loops her arm and they walk away.

“What’s going on with you two?” Harry asks. He’s learned enough to know Sophie soured at the sight of him.

“Really?” She asks.

“Really—what?”

“Him and YN were hooking up a few weeks ago. He was just…ekgh.”

“That’s not a word,” Harry laughs.

“I know!” She throws her hands up, one of which holds a knife.

“Alright,” Harry holds his up. “It’s a word.”

She throws her head back and laughs, then wields the knife against his throat.

“Woah, Soph.”

“It’s fake!” She laughs again.

“Yeah thank god,” Harry lowers it and she tumbles into him with the pressure she had put on it.

“Oops,” she smiles up at him. “Hey how d’you know Scream Queens?”

Blood rushes to Harry’s head as she looks up at him through her lashes. Soph was beautiful—she always had been. But tonight she looks particularly beautiful. It could be the vodka. But he wanted to kiss her.

“I watched it over the summer with…” Harry had watched it with YN. This was YN’s friend. Maybe he shouldn’t kiss her.

“Hm?” She inches her arm up and loops it around his neck. Her head tilts to one side and Harry feels the vodka flood his brain while his blood rushes another direction. “You’ve got really nice eyes.”

“So do you.” Harry barely gets out.

“Our babies would have amazing eyes.” She says with complete seriousness. Obviously she was drunk.

“Yeah. Uhm,” Harry tries to push her away. He does, or he tells himself that. But when she stands on the balls of her feet Harry felt it was rude to not meet her halfway. Not press his lips against her strawberry-flavoured plush ones. It felt amazing.

“D’you wanna go somewhere?” She whispers in his ear.

Harry doesn’t want to. He just wants her to shut up so they can keep kissing.

He leads her gently to the wall and continues kissing her, displaying what he’s learned in his two months at uni. And the noises she makes does unspeakable things to Harry.

“C’mon!” She urges to him. “Surely one of the bedrooms are free!”

At the thought his mind clears for a single moment. Should he be doing this? Was his first time really going to be at a Halloween party with Soph?

“I don’t have any-“

“That’s alright!” She tugs him back to her. “Let’s just see where the night takes us.”

“You’ve got to lose the knife though,” Harry says against her lips.

She laughs and tucks it into his back pocket. “Okay?”

Her laugh scatters away the remaining rational thought and he follows her wherever she takes him.

***

“Alright team,” the head of Newspaper stands addressing the crowd. “This has been an incredible year of reporting. I think we’ve done a fantastic job and I want to commend you all on your efforts and time lent to our humble club. Our final edition is going to print today, and the year’s final episode releases this Friday. So do give it a listen. Next year we’ll be back invigorated with more stories to tell. Have a great holiday all!”

Harry’s eyes roam the room, feeling content at being part of this hard-working group.

Despite only a semester on the Newspaper Harry felt really bonded with everyone. The team was big, split into print and podcast and yet despite not knowing everyone, the passion for stories and reporting was palpable. Especially release weeks.

Over the semester Harry had gotten even closer to Florence and Gabriel, it made Newsroom feel even more collaborative. And they often grabbed a bite after Newsroom or they would sometimes go to Gabriel’s and play video games. YN would join occasionally.

YN, only being a first year, was often frustrated being sidelined by seniors. Her friends often heard about it after particular Newsroom meetings. Still, YN on the podcast team made waves and Harry knew because her name was often on a lot of projects or on the lips of a lot of seniors. It made him proud to be her friend, often it reminded him of how he used to think about her. But Newsroom was a perfect example of how they both had separate strengths and how they flourished in each of them. He’s glad he realized that last year.

Harry’s eyes continue to dart to the door, checking his phone. It was weird y/n didn’t show up today when she should have. Especially the final meeting.

When the group goes for dinner in the caf Harry spots their friend Sophie.

What started as hooking up at Halloween ended in a few other hook-ups over the last month or so. Each time Harry felt incredibly guilty but Soph was really nice to him and nice to kiss too. Plus, Mary had stopped hanging out with him without another word and he wasn’t exactly sure what he did for that. So he’d given her space.

“Y/n wasn’t at today’s meeting, shame.” Flo says to Soph. “D’you know where she is?l

“No, that’s strange. I saw her earlier today?” Soph looks at the group.

“Me too,” Gabe adds. “She’s around.”

“Yeah it is strange,” Harry comments. “She’s usually on time, or at least sends us a text if she can’t make it.”

“I hope everything’s okay,” Flo scrunches her brows.

“I’m sure it is.” Sophie reassures her.

She turns to Harry with a secret smile, one hand sliding onto his thigh. “Any plans after this?”

“Oh!” Harry startles as her hand slides higher up his thigh. This was so…public. “Maybe. Uhm. Soph can we talk?”

He’d wanted to talk to her all week but had been so busy with exams. He thought about it a lot and really didn’t think sneaking behind y/n’s back with her friend was right. Especially after he asked her not to hook up with Rod in his room and she stopped.

Sophie shrugs and follows him off to the side.

“We need to talk,” Harry starts, he waves between both of them. “About this.”

“Yeah?” Sophie asks.

“Yeah. And. About Y/n.”

Sophie just notices the serious tone to Harry’s voice. She stops playing with her hair and stands taller. “Okay. What about her?”

Harry takes a deep breath, trying to articulate his thoughts. “I’ve just been thinking with us being her friend, she doesn’t know about us. I don’t want to sneak behind her back give her another reason to have trust issues—she’s been through a lot.”

“Yeah,” Soph agrees. “Y/n’s strong. She’s got like, that tough quiet strength she just exudes it always. I admire that about her.”

Harry nods, a small smile tugging on his lips. “Exactly. She’s really loyal to her friends, and I don’t want to screw anything up. I just…don’t think she’d approve of this.”

Sophie’s eyes soften with understanding. “Oh.”

“What?”

“You…care about her don’t you?”

“Well uhm yeah she’s my friend I-I yeah-“

“Like care about her.” Soph cuts off Harry’s stuttering. He felt like an idiot.

“Uhhh…”

“Be honest,” Soph curls the side of her mouth. “It’s not like we’re dating I don’t like care if you do.”

“Yeah fine. More than I probably should yeah,” he sighs. “But she’s made it clear we’re nothing more than friends. And I’m fine with that but we go way back and she’s helped me though a lot. I just don’t want to lose her. As a friend. But you’re a really great person too Soph I don’t want to lose. And I don’t want it to get complicated here.”

“I get it,” Sophie shrugs. “But it doesn’t have to be complicated. Or a secret. We’re just having fun!”

“Yeah I just don’t want to jeopardize anything.”

Unbeknownst to Harry and Sophie, y/n enters the caf then and spots the two before spotting their usual table. She heads towards Harry and Sophie first, curious as to why they were separated in what looked like an intense discussion.

“Fine. I get it!” Sophie continues.

“I’ve screwed up with her enough.” Harry says as y/n gets within hearing distance. “I hate feeling like I’m walking on egshells around her.”

“YN’s a tough cookie,” Soph agrees. “I’d be scared to be on her bad side.”

“I’ve been on it. Kinda made my life hell. It’s like facing a lion with just a stick.”

“You poor thing,” Soph touches Harry’s cheek and laughs just as her phone vibrates. “Oh that’s Emmy hold on.”

Harry smiles as she steps away but it dies as y/n steps into view.

“Oh y/n…how long-“

“Walking on eggshells? Didn’t realize being around me was such a burden-“

“No y/n that’s not the-“

“Save it Harry,” her eyes flicker with hurt.

“No seriously!” Harry tries to explain. “I wasn’t saying it like that!”

“You compared me to a fucking lion!”

“Let me explain-“

“After everything I told you about me I thought we got each other Har-“ Y/n cuts herself off as her throat closes with tears. She was not the type to cry in front of anyone, especially a boy. She waits for the feeling to subside. “It’s pretty clear where I stand. And by the way, talking me down isn’t going to make you look good with Soph.”

“Y/n please,” Harry feels her slipping away again and he envisions taking her by the shoulder and giving her a good shake. He hated when she did this, like the tides at a beach she retreated so quickly all he was left with was sand. She never left enough time for someone to grab her.

“Just…whatever Harry.”

With that she turns on her heel and walks away, the noise in the caf suddenly comes roaring in on either side of Harry. He wants to turn the volume dial all the way down and run after her but he knows neither are possible.

“What was that?” Sophie reappears.

“She heard the wrong end of our conversation.” Harry says with dread. “I didn’t mean for her to hear it like that. She must think…I don’t even know what she must think.”

“Mmm,” Sophie squeezes Harry’s shoulder. “Just give her space. I’ll ask her what she heard and explain don’t worry. She’ll come around.”

Harry wasn’t so sure.

***

Harry watches as Mary enters the bar and looks around. For a moment he can just be another bloke seeing Mary for the first time wondering what she’s like with her cropped hair and animated brown eyes. He feels his heart picking up speed the longer he watches her—he can’t believe it took him this long to ask her out officially.

Although it wasn’t entirely his fault.

Harry didn’t think Mary would ever be interested in him on a deeper level—he definitely wouldn’t date himself. And when Mary began to make excuses about hanging out last year, Harry took that as a big glaring sign he was right, instead of just asking her outright.

Then there was the tryst with Soph. And the fallout with y/n who cut him out of his life like she was scissors through wrapping paper. Harry acted like it didn’t hurt him but it did; after all the time they spent together he didn’t know how y/n could be so cold with people she called her friends. She didn’t even care about his explanation.

But Harry’s sister had given him an earful one night during Christmas break, about dating the girl he was really into and not being such a coward. It took him a whole month to work up the courage but on Valentine’s Day he’d asked Mary to be his. It was cheesy but she loved it. They’d hung out a few times and last week Harry asked her to be his girlfriend. He was officially in a relationship!

Mary catches his wave from the front and she breaks into her toothy smile that squeezed his heart every time it was directed his way. Falling in love made the whole world feel soppy. Harry’d never experienced something like this; in a world of learning and achievements this was one he felt really proud to get to.

“What are you smiling so hard about?” Mary teases as she reaches him. Harry kisses her and keeps her hand in his as they sit.

“Just this girl, can’t stop thinking about her.”

“Must be a lucky lady,” Mary grins. She was head over heels too.

“Nah I think I’m the lucky one.”

“God,” Mary pulls her hand away and presses them to her blushing cheeks. “You’re damn charming when you want to be Harry.”

That wasn’t a word anyone would ever use to describe him. Yet Harry feels over the moon to hear it. Here was proof he was changing—he was finally growing up.

The new couple have a few drinks with their food, they talk about school, friends, and the upcoming Easter Break.

“I’m heading home too,” Mary was originally from Liverpool. “My mum’s sister’s coming in from Australia for Easter. She’s got these little rascals I haven’t seen in years so I’ll have to see how big they’ve gotten now.”

“Are those the rascals who stole your Taylor Swift poster?”

“Signed poster,” Mary corrects him. “And yes. As payback because I caught then stealing their dad’s smokes. It’s been 3 years and I still haven’t gotten that back.”

“You really think they kept it?”

“Well we’re gonna find out,” Mary grinds her knuckles into the palm of her other hand. “I’m older and stronger now I can take them.”

Harry laughs, he loved seeing Mary when she was joking like this. Otherwise she was a bit like him when it came to studying and being serious.

“Well you’ve got a boyfriend now. I’ll make the trip if it means getting that poster back.”

“Would you!?” Mary reaches out to him. “That’s actually so sweet.”

Harry’s chest fills with warmth as she kisses him, and that sparks a different hunger. They pay their tab and head out hand in hand back to his dorm.

Rod isn’t in and they take advantage of that.

Roderick and Harry had continued their friendship despite y/n disappearing from his dorm. They’d gotten to the point where Harry declined a couple parties and Rod didn’t take it personally, and Harry actually helped Rod out with some of his studies. They worked out together and there was a better balance.

He did see y/n at parties sometimes. A couple times with Rod too. He tried to talk to her the first couple times but she always danced away just as he got to her. So he stopped trying. She was frustrating.

“Hey,” Mary kisses his jaw. “Where’d you go?”

“Sorry,” Harry had gotten lost in his head again. “I think Rod’s gonna be back soon-“

“Oh,” Mary sighs. “Okay. My roommate’s a shut in, too bad we can never go to mine.”

“If I asked him to not come home he wouldn’t,” Harry realizes Mary wanted to cross some bases too late. He really should stick to being in his body more often. He should have messaged Rod as soon as they headed here.

“Maybe next time,” Mary smiles sweetly. She wipes the side of Harry’s lips with her thumb, that’s when he realizes she was wearing lipstick. It was a subtle colour but not as much when it’s smeared on her chin. Something about seeing it like that feels endearing to him.

“Until then,” he pulls her back to him and kisses her hard, she responds in kind. Just as Harry slips his hand below her tee the doorknob jiggles. He sighs, “Fuck.”

“It’s alright,” Mary whispers below him. “That was fun.”

He peers back down at her, her lipstick is even worse but she’s looking up at him like she’s seeing him for the first time. Note to self show Mary how much I like her, Harry realizes.

This time he uses his thumb to swipe at the smudged lipstick. She smiles at him like he hung the stars.

***

Harry would have taken the train home last night to avoid the crowds but it was his last day with Mary before being apart for 2 weeks and he wanted to make the most of it. So now he pays the consequences with a packed train and barely any leg room.

The guy next to him plays some video game on his phone, the person across from that guy is already napping with her mouth open. Harry waits to see who takes the seat across and his heart drops when they finally take the seat and look up at him.

“For fuck’s sake,” she mutters.

Y/n. Of course it would be her. She’s cut her hair since the last time he saw her—now she has a fringe and he’s pretty sure layers with how much they flick outwards from her face.

“Y/n,” Harry greets her. This was going to be one long train ride. Although he wasn’t sure what she was doing here—did she move on campus this semester?

“Harry…” she says with a studied coolness.

“Nice to see you.”

“Is it?” She asks. “Look I’ll just find another-“

She gets up but Harry’s faster. He stretches out his long leg to block the corridor. She’s stuck within the 4-seater.

“What are you doing?”

“Keeping you in,” Harry says with a small smile. She would be forced to sit in front of him, he would finally be able to get her to talk.

“Harry don’t be so immature move your leg.”

“That’s your seat just take it y/n.” He motions to it.

“Harry!” She tries to climb over it but Harry just raises his leg and it throws her off balance. She nearly falls backwards but Harry springs up fast enough to balance her. That’s how he finds himself standing in her personal space, one hand on her lower back and the other clutching her arm.

“Sorry,” he mumbles.

“Get. Off of me.” She replies.

He lets her go and she actually sits back down. Harry glances around and flushes as he realizes everyone around them had started staring.

“Nice hair,” Harry tries again as the train leaves the station. By then they’d been sitting in silence for at least 15 minutes.

“Yeah. Whatever.” Y/n brushes her bangs.

“So are you on campus now?” Harry continues casually.

This both surprises and irritates y/n. Usually he was very sensitive to when she was being a bitch to him, but now it seemed he was getting some enjoyment out of talking to her despite her attempt at staying cold; something had changed with him.

“No.” She answers as clipped as possible.

“So you’re taking the train home today because…”

“God Harry,” y/n sighs. “I had my last exam and stayed out too late. Now stop asking me questions like I’m in a bloody interview. Leave me alone!”

“Isn’t that what I’ve been doing the last couple months,” Harry grumbles. The look she gives him could cut him in half.

She studies him, what’s changed she wonders. He still didn’t meet her eye completely but he was challenging her a lot more. She wouldn’t have minded it as much if she wasn’t recovering from a killer hangover.

“So won’t be hard to continue.” She glares.

And that’s how the remaining hour or so is spent sitting across from his friend or ex-friend, whatever. In silence. Apart from a few glances her way he buries his nose in his book and texts Mary as she boards her own train.

Of course, they get off on the same platform and when Harry’s mum catches sight of y/n she insists on giving her a ride home since y/n was just going to take the bus. The two of them sit in silence as Harry’s mum asks them a dozen questions. The ride ends with an invite for dinner and a non-committal yes from y/n.

“You guys get into a fight or something?” Harry’s mum asks as they drive to their home.

“Or something,” Harry mumbles.

“It was like the the bloody DMZ in here.”

Harry shrugs. “It’s just y/n being y/n.”

“I saw her a couple weeks ago at M&S,” Harry’s mum continues. “She didn’t look so good I offered her a ride but she said she was waiting for her sister to finish her shift. D’you know what’s going on with her?”

Harry thought about it but couldn’t think of a single thing. Y/n kept her cards very close to her chest.

“No. She doesn’t share much.”

“Well do you ask?”

“No but even if I did she would just shut me out,” Harry suddenly feels defensive.

“It’s still nice to be asked,” his mum says. “Knowing someone cares enough.”

Harry looks at his mum, the words she’s saying makes sense. But it surprises him to hear them and realize just how much it made sense. How come he’s never realized that?

Maybe he was a shittier friend than he realized.

So Harry gives it a few days and shows up at y/n’s house. This time he knew exactly where to find her.

“You are?” One of y/n’s brothers answers the door. He was a couple years older than them.

“Harry I uh-is y/n home?”

“Maybe,” his brother continues to scrutinize Harry until he squirms. “Wait here.”

He waits for an eternity, sitting down on the stoop while he does. Finally the door opens behind him and y/n joins him on the stoop.

She’s in a blue sweater and pyjama pants. Harry’s surprised to see little powerpuff girls all over them. His sister used to watch that Friday evenings.

“What’re you doing here?”

“I just want to talk y/n,” Harry had practiced looking her in the eye. Just talking to her like a friend. He looks at her now. “You’ve been icing me out for months now it’s unfair. Sophie told me she told you what we were talking about, how you walked in when it sounded wrong and you’re still mad about it?”

She stares at him for a beat before sighing.

As she exhales she grows smaller in front of him until she’s drooped over, her arms circle her knees, and her head rests atop them—she’s the size of a pumpkin.

“I’m not mad at that,” she admits. “Sophie explained you didn’t mean it like that. I was more offended just at the fact that you two were talking about me. But I didn’t realize you two were close…”

“Yeah. I’m sorry about that-“

“That,” she cuts him off. “Is mostly why I was upset with you. You made such a big deal that I was hooking up with Rod meanwhile you were banging one of my friends? Behind my back?”

“We weren’t-I wouldn’t say bang-“

“Doesn’t matter Har!” Y/n sits up again and Harry feels the clouds break for a sec as she uses his nickname. “That wasn’t a great way to find out. Why didn’t you tell me?”

Harry didn’t know. Or he did: he didn’t think him and Soph were going to be more than a one time thing and when it was, he was ashamed a bit. He didn’t think he would go to college and have a casual relationship as his first one. It wasn’t something he necessarily wanted public knowledge.

“Maybe I was scared. I dunno. I just know I’m really sorry.”

They sit in silence for a few seconds, Harry hears the hoover turn on in yn’s house.

“Why’ve you got to be so fucking honest for,” y/n finally says with a sigh. “Makes it so hard to be mad at you when you’re all sincere and vulnerable.”

“Sorry,” Harry repeats.

“Stop it!” YN exclaims.

“Fine!” Harry’s heart pounds. “I don’t give a fuck about how you felt. Happy?”

Y/n freezes and slowly turns to stare at him. A smile ever so slowly tugs at the corner of her lips. She almost looks proud?

“Harry!” She grins. Then she punches him square in the bicep. Then gasps. “Have you been working out?”

Harry had been; in between class and clubs and dating, he started working out last winter with Rod.

“There’s a lot you don’t know about me y/n,” Harry jokes and y/n snorts. The two look at each other at the sound of it before bursting out in laughter.

“I don’t know where that came from!” Y/n says through laughter. “I literally snorted!”

“You sounded like Peppa Pig,” Harry also has tears in his eyes. He missed hanging out with y/n.

Once they get ahold of their laughter Harry bumps his shoulder into hers. “It’s nice you’re talking to me again.”

She looks like she wants to say something to Harry, her eyes grow intense as she fixes onto him, her chin wobbling, but then it passes. Harry ignores the spark of disappointment.

“Yeah we’ll see.” She says with a half smile.

All was right in the world again, Harry thought.

He should have known, though, being friends with y/n would never be that simple.

*

TAGLIST: hmu if you want to be added

[crepesuzette2023]

Ivan Vaughan writes about John and Paul

This is just a relatively brief excerpt from Ivan Vaughan's book, which, for the most part, focuses on his life with Parkinson's disease. (From what I can tell so far, it's absolutely fascinating: far more than 'simply' a memoir, it's a reflection on illness, the mind-body connection, science, psychotropic drugs, patients' autonomy...and much more.)

But since this blog is climbing the drainpipe to the John & Paul business, and there's been some recent discussion of Mark Lewisohn's claim that John was such a bad boy Ivan's mother sent her son to a different grammar school to separate the two, I thought the following might be interesting.

And the ending of this chapter also gives some context to Paul's reaction to John's murder—another topic about which ML has interesting opinions.

This isn't to pile on ML, but more...as words from someone who was there.

(CC: @mythserene, @anotherkindofmindpod) I met John when I was three or four years old. One wet morning there was a knock at the front door. My mother opened it, and looking down, found a boy a bit older than me, smiling, but preoccupied with the effort of remembering what he had been rehearsed to say.

‘I believe a little boy lives here. I wondered if you might like to come out and play.’ He stood there in the porch, rain pouring down behind him, with a pair of slippers under his arm.

‘Come on in. What’s your name? You live round the corner don’t you?’

Next day I went around to the house where he lived with his aunt and uncle. We played with Dinky cars. I was surprised by his generosity and willingness to share his toys; he was happy even for me to take some of them home. When his Uncle George came home with some sweets John readily shared them. There was an immediate bond between us. He was older, read books, and his great intelligence and experience were apparent. I accepted his leadership but I was determined to preserve my independence. From the warm security of Aunt Mimi’s control, John accepted me into his life.

John was a member of his local library and immersed himself in books so that by the age of five he was already a fluent reader. I was still in the infant school when he started at Dovedale Road Primary School, but we played together after school and weekends. There were numerous parks, a golf course, and fields full of tangled growth and trees — just right for playing cowboys and Indians. In one barren area with large lumps of hard earth we played football and cricket. We spent hours digging all tracks to race our Dinky cars. Our most exciting game, though, was ‘fires’. We would go to a large area of waste ground and simply set fire to the straw and watch the place. I have never understood why nobody stopped us.

John’s gang comprised, besides himself, Pete Shotton, Nigel Wally and me. I was the youngest and was constantly having to prove my worth. I feel privileged to be John’s friend since he was nearly two years older. He protected me against Timmy Tarbuck and his gang on the rare occasions when I made the mistake of confronting one of them.

John and I went to different grammar schools, but I used to hear about the chaos and riots that seem to be a daily feature of his schooling. I’d rather lost touch with him when I went to university, and did not see him again until sometime after I was married. Then one day, as I was playing with my little boy Jus on the steps of our house in London, white Rolls Royce turned into the road. John jumped out followed by a woman I have not met before.

‘Hello, Ivy! This is Yoko.’ (…)

My attachment to both John and Paul ran deep and occasionally I would go to great lengths in order to see them at a moment’s notice. Maybe Paul saw our continuing friendship as a way of maintaining simple values he held dear. Jan liked Paul, though she did not see much of John. She was not the least bit mesmerized by their fame. She enjoyed eating at expensive restaurants in sampling London’s nightlife, into which Paul took us from time to time. But, should the effort to come to great, she was willing to let the relationship fade.

A month after telephoning John in New York [with the news of the Parkinson’s diagnosis; their first conversation in years], a heavy parcel was delivered. It was not until I was reading the titles of the books it contained that I realized they had been sent by John and Yoko. There was one by Arthur Janov, author of the Primal Scream, and one entitled Mind Magic. How to Get Well had on the fly-leaf a message from John that read ‘to start looking’, and The Snow Leopard had a note saying ‘to relax’. This last book gave me the greatest pleasure and I frequently re-read passages from it. Its author, Peter Matthiesen, lost his son through illness and journeyed in Nepal and in Inner Dolpo on a completely pointless journey to catch sight of a snow leopard. The peace he found travels across to the reader from each page.

John’s accompanying letter urged me, in punning language, to keep my spirits high and strongly suggested that it was up to me whether I sank or swam. I must not lose faith in myself.

Ten weeks later he was shot dead. Paul and I did not contact each other about it; in fact, we never brought it up in conversation. I hardly reacted outwardly at all. The day after John’s death, however, a colleague said that he supposed I was very upset at what it happened. I heard myself say: ‘I don’t know what I feel. I don’t know that I feel much at all’. As soon as he had gone, I instinctively made my way to a room where I knew I could be alone, and I wept profusely.

-- from Ivan-Living with Parkinson's Disease by Ivan Vaughan. 1986.

[writingdevil]

Hii! Hewwo!!! Finally got the courage and an idea to get here haha. First of all I wanted to thank you for Tongues and Teeth. Like, really, big thanks. This fic got me through a pretty bad illness, and I found myself waiting for every new chapter. And, well, of course, it was an indirect reason for me even being here... I really enjoyed reacting on your fic in tags, and that, in fact, gave me the courage and impuls to post my own stuff. As for a prompt... Slay the Princess is happening at night, but rarely someone appreciated the stars. But they still were there. And in post-Tongues and Teeth they are there, too. I just thought it would be interesting to touch some voices' feelings and opinions when they are just stargazing. It could be about any voice really, or any group of voices, maybe you'll even explore them all - I would love to see it anyway :> Have a great day!!!

(Oh my God,you're so sweet!Thank you for liking my fic that much-I never expected people to actually be invested in my story.I'm really sorry that you were going through that illness,but I'm so touched that my story helped you get through it.I always love seeing your reaction to my fics-it's one of the things I look forward too!I love your idea and I hope you enjoy this,and that you have an amazing day!)

(This is post Tongues and Teeth)

It wasn't often that Contrarian liked to be still.He much preferred to be doing something that pissed one of the others-mainly Oppy-off.He liked keeping everyone on their toes,not knowing what he was about to do next-and no,he's definitely still not bitter from Oppy calling him predictable.Why would you think that?

But tonight,Contrarian was honestly happy to just relax with his flock,and stargaze with them all.

He couldn't remember who's idea it had been, probably one of the softer ones like Hero or Smitten,but eventually they all found themselves sitting out on the roofs of their bird houses at night, gazing up at the stars.

Contrarian never noticed how pretty the night sky was.Or did he ever even get the chance to,back in the Construct?Either way,it was nice to just chill out,take it easy,and look up at the stars-

"I don't see the appeal of this."

Well,not everyone felt the same way.

Contrarian chuckled,looking down at Cold,who was lying on his back and staring up at the sky in boredom.Cold hadn't seen the point in stargazing, but had still allowed Contrarian to drag him up here,and he had been silent ever since.

Contrarian had a feeling that Cold wouldn't particularly like this one activity,even if everyone had come out.He leaned back on his hands and asked,"No?You don't think the stars are interesting and cool to look at?"

"They're lights in the sky."

"Yeah,but do you think they're pretty?"Cold hummed in thought,before looking away as he replied,"You could certainly call them mesmerizing, if you were poetic enough."Contrarian snorted, knowing for a fact that Smitten has definitely described the stars as exactly that before.

"Mesmerizing doesn't equal interesting though," Cold quickly added,and Contrarian sighed,sitting up properly to tuck his knees under his chin."Yeah,I thought you'd say that,"he said,hoping to hide his disappointment in his voice.

He wasn't sure if Cold caught it or not,but he shrugged and looked back up at the sky."It was nice for a few minutes,but it doesn't make me feel much."

"Well not everything has to be about feeling something grand and overwhelming."He caught the flash of surprise on Cold's face,and then Contrarian's smile fell into a regretful frown.

This felt like a weird conversation to have,especially considering that himself and Cold were the known mischief makers of the flock.Contrarian just liked to do things that were fun,and his realm of fun had gotten a whole lot bigger now that they had their own bodies.

Cold was in that same boat,in which he could freely got out and find things to do that could potentially get rid of that numbness in his chest.The two of them spent most of their days discovering every fun thing that they couldn't before,not with that annoying Echo keeping them trapped.

He glanced back down at Cold,only to find him staring up at the sky with an empty look in his eyes. To anyone else,you would think that that was just Cold's natural expression,but Contrarian's been around him long enough to pick up the slight bitterness in his eyes,and he immediately felt bad.

He knew Cold had trouble with going about life without wanting something to make him feel something.He knew that in some ways-getting their own bodies had been harder to achieve that, because now Cold was responsible for everything that his body did.

What he chose to do,to hear,to experience,was all up to him,and sometimes his body and mind couldn't handle it.But the only reason it was difficult,was because the Decider wasn't here anymore.It was easier to want to feel something new,and block out anything that he deemed unimportant,when the situation involved whether to slay another person or not,and the horrifying consequences of it-all while hiding behind another greater being.

Contrarian sighed,then looked around at the other houses near them,and said,"I know this isn't your usual brand of fun and excitement."Cold just hummed in response,still not looking at him."But I think taking a moment to chill and relax is nice too."

"Easy for you to say,"Cold said,"you can be entertained by anything,and boredom can be easily fixed.You're not as...rigid as I am."Contrarian shrugged,looking back up at the stars."You never know until you try."

Cold huffed in quiet amusement,and Contrarian watched as his wings twitched and spread out and in-a surefire way to tell that Cold was getting restless,and was about to leave.

But Contrarian didn't want him to go.He wanted to be able to enjoy the loud and the quiet moments with Cold,without Cold feeling like it was pointless.

So he squinted up at the starry sky,until he grinned playfully,scooting closer and leaning down to whisper into Cold's ear.He pointed up at the sky and quietly said,"You know,if you squint,you can kinda see Skeptic's grumpy face in the sky."

Cold was confused for a few seconds,before he chuckled lightly,and Contrarian grinned in victory. Cold now had a soft smile on his face as he gazed up at the sky."You'll turn anything into a joke,won't you?"

Contrarian giggled,leaning away from the other bird now."Yeah,why not?Nothing's fun if everything's so serious all the time."

"But eventually even clowns get tired at telling jokes all the time."

Contrarian froze at Cold's empty words,before quickly turning to face him,and his heart twisted in guilt-something that didn't happen a lot,at the subtle sad look on Cold's face.

He thought Contrarian was getting bored of his own ways?He thought that stargazing meant that he was getting dull?

Contrarian would be offended if he didn't think this wasn't deeply hurting Cold,no matter how much the icy one would try to deny it.He thought that he was losing the one flockmate that could understand the way he thought and operated, leaving him an outcast in his own flock.

That wouldn't do.

Contrarian sighed loudly,then casually threw an arm over Cold's shoulders,which meant that his body was half bent down to even manage that,and even then,his arm was actually just circling the top of Cold's head.

He stayed in that position for a few minutes,until Cold eventually asked,"What are you doing?"

"I'm just-taking the moment in."

There was a small pause,before Cold then asked, "What do you mean?"

"Well,"Contrarian began,"it's such a nice night out, and it's rare that we're all doing something that isn't eating or having a meeting.I just wanted to take this moment in."

"Why would you bother with 'taking it in'?You could have moments like these all the time,and they'll just replace the last memory."

"Yeah,"Contrarian agreed,"but nothings gonna beat the first time you went stargazing with your whole flock." There was a fondness in Contrarian's voice that had Cold looking up at him curiously,but Contrarian took that moment to look up and around at the rest of his flock.

"There's just something-special,about moments like these,and it makes you want to stay there for as long as possible."

Contrarian's gaze went straight to Hero,who was giggling as he watched Hunted preen Stubborn's wings,and the preening appeared to be making Stubborn sleepy,to the point that he was struggling to keep his eyes open while laying on his chest. Hero smiled at them fondly,and started to pet the feathers on Stubborn's head.

Contrarian smiled at the sight,then his gaze drifted to the far left of them,where Smitten and Skeptic seemed to be utterly transfixed by the display of stars in the sky.Contrarian watched as Smitten excitedly pointed up at the sky,blurting out what was sure to be some sappy,poetic mess,looking over at Skeptic with pure glee in his eyes.

Skeptic actually looked quite calm and relaxed in this moment,matching Smitten's passion with a more calmer enthusiasm,gesturing up at the night sky and talking just as much as his counterpart was.

It was funny to imagine the conversation they must be having-a mix of lovey-dovey mush and innocent curiosity-but it also sounded very sweet.

"What's the point of dragging out something special?"Cold asked,"It's just going to make the moment boring more quickly."Contrarian made a noise of uncertainty."I don't think so.There's always something interesting to pick out."

He glanced over at their right,where Paranoid and Oppy were huddled close,talking quietly to themselves-probably the most unexpected and fascinating friendship to come out of this whole thing.

Paranoid-or Jitters,as Oppy loved to call him-was hugging himself for comfort,and had an anxious look in his eye as he spoke to Oppy,who was giving him his full attention,completely ignoring the illuminating sky above them.

Then Oppy smiled,in a way that Contrarian knew was hard for the other to easily do without fear,and softly draped his wing around Paranoid's shoulders, who's tense body instantly melted at the gesture, face wiped clean of stress,as he instead smiled and gave Oppy a grateful look.

Contrarian's attention was quickly snatched by the duo not too far away from them-Broken and Cheated.Broken had tucked his knees under his chin and looked to be in complete awe at the stars above him,and Contrarian wondered if he had found a new love to worship and submit to.

But then he saw the way that Cheated's attention was in no way on the stars-but instead on Broken. He was resting his arm on his knee,his cheek in his hand,and he had the most fond and lovestruck look that Contrarian has ever seen-that he truly believed that Cheated could give Smitten a run for his money.

He giggled and finally looked back down at Cold, who didn't seem so upset anymore,but instead was struggling to understand Contrarian's words."I don't get it,"he finally admitted,and Contrarian made a quick,sweeping gesture at their flock and said,"I'm just saying that-maybe this moment isn't for right now."

"What?"

Contrarian sat up properly again,and Cold was quick to copy him,determined to understand. Contrarian looked back up at the twinkling stars and said,"Maybe this moment is purely to look back on,to remember the soft times that made you happy.Maybe-maybe these are moments to make you feel warm in the future,whatever that may be."

Contrarian quickly glanced at Cold,suddenly feeling embarrassed at having talked so much without it sounding like a joke."I-I just like the thought of that as well.At being able to sit still,and still have good memories to look back on,with the rest of you weirdos."

He refused to look back at Cold,just waiting for the other to poke fun at or dismiss what he said.He couldn't decide what would be worse.

But then Cold hummed softly,scooting closer to nudge him with his wing."I suppose,"he quietly said, and Contrarian risked a quick look,"that you can sort of see Skeptic's grumpy face."

Contrarian froze,before he burst out laughing,and he even heard Cold's light laughter join in.

It ended being a perfect memory for Contrarian to cherish forever.

[brunosaderogatory]

Hello.

So... What do you think of Daniela and/or Lorenzo?

Hello, and oh buddy don't get me STARTED /ref

Honestly, I do not know where to begin with these two. I love them. I hate them. I want to keep them in a controlled environment so I could conduct a study of them with a little microscope and also squeeze them until their eyeballs pop out as if they were a pair of Panic Petes. In other words, I like them a lot as characters in a narrative and characters in a world. My opinion of them as people differs from minute to minute, but that is because they reflect the morally ambiguous, and sometimes outright cruel--but equally often loving--world in which they exist.

That being said:

At first, Lorenzo seems to be a very two-dimensional character. He's just a goofy dad who is more concerned with his avocations than he is with his son or wife, a painfully overdone trope in the world of children's cinema, but a few key details (and a bit of useful input from Enrico Casarosa) reveal something more.

For starters, Lorenzo is a lot like Luca. Rather, he is Luca---or who Luca could have very easily become. Lorenzo is meek and lets his wife take the reigns when the situation gets tough. Lorenzo is often off in his own little world, not paying much attention to anything but his own interests and inclinations. Lorenzo is kind-hearted and seems to want change, but is too burdened by his own anxieties or past failures to work up the courage again. And, I do say "again" because the search for his son was not the first time Lorenzo was on the surface.

His older brother (and possibly twin) Ugo was not the only one in their family to have explored the surface world before; Lorenzo was, most likely, right along beside him. Now, we don't know what exactly happened that resulted in Lorenzo's parents sending Ugo to the deep nor Lorenzo to stop trying to get a taste of the human way of life, but Ugo was sent. And Lorenzo did stop. However, it is unlikely that any tragic event took place. Rather, I believe the conclusion to Lorenzo's explorations happened out of conformity to the rules and traditions of his culture because Lorenzo never once spoke ill of humans.

Daniela calls them bloodthirsty lunatics. She insists that Luca has a death wish, and, very explicitly, she insinuates that he will die trying to hang with the humans. On the other hand, Lorenzo only gawks at his son's audacity and tenacity. Lorenzo even tries to reel in Daniela as she threatens Luca with a trip to the deep, but, of course, it is a fruitless attempt because he is meek. He does not have his son's tenacity nor his audacity---those traits were derived from Daniela alone. And this impotence serves as his most abhorrent attribute.

No, he's not doing anything wrong, but he's being a willful bystander. He's compliant with the evils, and, when it gets down to it, he backs them up! He makes no decision for himself, but when he does, he either chickens out of it at the last minute or doesn't know how to bounce back from a failure. Despite being fully aware of what the deep sea can do to a person--despite very likely disagreeing with his wife--he allows her to almost put their son, his son, in a situation that will inevitably, undeniably, deform (translucent skin, eroded teeth, discolored eyes, discolored fins) and disable (cardiovascular issues) him with time.

I'm glad he changed his side for the brighter half in the end, but I didn't see any actual change happen. He's still following his wife around from the looks of it, and that isn't what's needed for him to grow as a person and as a character. Although he's a three-dimensional character that appears to have only two, he's a static character that's been played off as a dynamic for far too long. He was a meek follower in the beginning, and he was a meek follower in the end. The only reason he came onto the good side of things is that the person he was following changed paths, and that isn't enough for me to truly like him (but it sure as hell does give me a lot to work with as a fanfic author, so thank you, Luca crew!).

Now, Daniela. When I think of Daniela, I think of a girl that (for lack of a better metaphor) was raised in a church who could have very well turned out queer, but due to the teachings she was fed---and possibly a very messy lesbian breakup---turned into a very, very hateful woman who, years down the line, rediscovered her bisexuality after the boy she was raising to be a goody-two-shoes, god-fearing, church-going fellow come out to her as vivaciously gay. That is to say, if it wasn't for Massimo, Daniela would be the most dynamic character in the movie. And if it weren't for Alberto, Daniela would be the most complex character in the movie. This is because, like her husband, Daniela tried out the surface life before, but unlike her husband, Daniela is a cruel, unjust force actively working to destroy her son's hopes and happiness at whatever cost necessary--even if it means her son's mental, social, and physical wellbeing. However, the force is derived of only love, fear, and care.

Just as it was in Lorenzo's case, but now far more severe, we lack explicit information about Daniela's past. All we have are the behaviors and beliefs displayed in the movie and information graciously given to us by Enrico Casarosa. These behaviors, beliefs, and Casarosa-given information are: having previously been to the human world; calling humans "bloodthirsty lunatics"; believing humans only go out on the waters for murder; understanding the motions made with a harpoon; attempting to send Luca to the Deep; waiting for Ugo to arrive rather than confronting Luca when she first notices his whereabouts; helicopter-parenting her son; being aware of Luca's interest in the surface/dissatisfaction with the sea; ensuring that Luca stays "safer than safe" while still letting him run off to Genova.

Given these, we can begin to piece together the picture: In her youth, Daniela adventured up to the surface and explored the human way of life, but something went wrong. She was caught in some dangerous situation that likely involved harpoons, or she bore witness to the same thing Luca did as he walked into Portorosso---the statues, the wanted posters, the carvings, the propaganda strewn about, adorning every angle of the town. Regardless, she became terribly fearful of humans and never returned to the surface again.

Unlike Lorenzo, Daniela is not simply abiding by the rules and traditions of their underwater society. Her evasion of humans is born of a completely justifiable fear. Humans hunted sea monsters. Humans put up wanted posters worth $4.5k in today's money for sea monsters captured, dead or alive, and fishermen armed with harpoons lined the waters for a children's race. I feel this is an often forgotten fact when the topic of Daniela's control over Luca comes up: Luca was in real, mortal danger going into Portorosso. Daniela might have been wrong to send Luca to the Deep, but from there, it becomes a discussion of which is worse: possible disability or possible death. Such a discourse grows even more complex when you call to mind that Daniela might not have even been aware of the physical and physiological changes the Deep has on a sea monster before Ugo's arrival.

Daniela's attempted actions are cruel, no doubt, but they are not at all unwarranted. She wants Luca, who she adores and deeply cares for, to be as safe as possible. If she has to be the bad guy to keep her son alive, then she will be the bad guy.

However, Daniela does not stay the bad guy. When she realizes Luca is safe in Portorosso (rather, when Portorosso becomes safe for Luca), she becomes open to the possibility of allowing him to continue living on the surface. She even, after a bit of convincing from Alberto and Libera, allows him to attend school in Genova for nine months out of the school year. At the end of the movie, she is assured of Luca's safety and the humans' ability to change for the better---to stop all the killing, hunting, and fear and begin a peaceful coexistence. This stability allows her to relinquish control over her son and support him in his dreams, even if it means she'll only see him in the summer months.

Daniela is an intensely dynamic and intensely complex character. She's a beautiful foil to her husband, and, quite frankly, I'm obsessed with her and desperately wish to see more of her growth and her past.

Also, Daniela and Lorenzo are peak malewife x girlboss material and I will not be hearing any slander toward their relationship. no idea how Lorenzo managed to bag her, but so glad he did. beautiful. love it. 10/10.

[marcusnotbrutus]

Comments on Falsettos recording describing people's experience with pre-revival casts & being gay in the 80's and 90's

for @holdwinetosky

“I lived in Manhattan in 1981, met my husband that year.  We lived through the AIDS drama of real life on the Upper West Side. This show speaks to me on So many different levels.

Saw this production  on Broadway shortly after it opened. Crazy, Intense, Wonderful .

Just like it was in 1990 as Falsettoland at the Lucille Lortel, and when it first moved to Broadway as Falsettos in 1992. Saw the original casts of each, and each production multiple times (1 time with Mandy Patinkin as Marvin), saw the road companies that came to Philadelphia........etc...lol

Freakin Love this Show."

@ rugby8-Philadelphia 

“Saw a traveling company which came through Phoenix, AZ. I left Manhattan in '81 as numerous friends were getting ill and shortly thereafter died.  This show made me laugh out loud AND cry out loud!”

David Helmstetter (@ davidhelmstetter6661)

“Thank you. You signed my program when I was a kid. I waited by the stage door. My Mom didn't want to see the show at the time. She turned into the most accepting woman and this musical changed my life. xo”

@ castChicagoactors

“An absolute perfect moment in theater... this opened in nyc in 1990!!!!! We all had just lost lovers and friends and it was still raging without any meds.  Vowing to "buy the farm arm in arm" was and still is the most moving loving words to hear so beautifully sung”

Jeff Schecter (@ jeffschecter4543)

“I saw Falsettoland at the Theatre De Lys in the Village shortly after my brother Marty died of AIDS, and I have never cried so hard in my life as during "What More Can I Say" and "Unlikely Lovers."  I cried so hard that in part of my brain I thought someone might escort me out of the theatre, but there was nothing I could do about it, Michael Rupert you gave voice to everything I felt and there was no stopping it.  Thank you thank you thank you.  Of course saw the short multiple times on Broadway and afterwards in various productions and I will just never forget this song and that moment until every brain cell I've got has given up and every memory is erased because this is the such an honest statement of what love is all about.  To all of you in the show and William Finn I am forever grateful.”

David Fleischer (@ davidfleischer455)

“Thanks for posting, Michael.  Today, after 29 years together, my husband and I are legally married in our state of Georgia.”

@ theBestArts

“I have seen many Broadway musicals in my day. Over one hundred original and first run shows since 1980. I can honestly say without heistation that Falsettos in 1992 is the best musical I have ever seen in NY. The ensemble cast, simple set, lyrics, and use of character to tell a story is a perfect example of theatre art. Every theater lover should have seen this one, it is a masterpiece. Chip Zien and Barbara Walsh shine in every performance they give.”

@ muscled57

“I saw March of the Falsettos in 1980 and marvelled at it's musical brilliance and ended up seeing it half a dozen times. Then I saw Falsettoland a decade later which devastated me with it's sensitivity and humanity. Years later I saw a regional production of Falsettos which is the combination of the two shows and was enchanted and remain grateful to Mr Finn for writing such a masterpiece of musical theatre that I could see again and again.”

@ donovan3535

“I was fortunate enough to be reach up and touch Mr. Patinkin at the Golden Theatre in February, 1993, during his run with this amazing show. Those who don't think he made a good Marvin: I have to disagree with you completely. The man is one of the best American talents alive today and gave an amazing performance, in my opinion.”

@ dyabolykyll

“I can't believe I've never seen this before. I've sobbed all the way through the second act. Such strong memories of my dear friend Sammy, who died in 1993. The last time I visited him with my kids, he asked if he could change my daughter's diaper, and afterwards he cried because I wasn't afraid.

 It hits so hard for those of us who were young adults when AIDS came on the scene. People were afraid to be in the same room with someone who had it, much less to touch them. It made hand holding and hugs mean so much more."

@ VeracityLH

[topazadine]

Extremely controversial writing opinions that will make you mad (but I'm going to say them anyway)

I don't know why but I am in the mood to be pilloried. Before I start, I will show you a picture of my dog so you realize I'm not a heartless monster.

Anyway, obviously this is just my opinion and you are perfectly free to disagree.

None of this is some hard-and-fast rule or even a universal truth.

It is just my opinion as someone who has 15 years of experience, has written about 2 million words, has an English degree, tutored dozens of students, etc etc etc.

Even if it seems like I am universalizing, I am not. Take what you like and leave the rest. Ignore it all if you want. That's your right.

Here we go. Please, don't throw your tomatoes until the end of the post. It distracts me.

Your first book probably sucks (with caveats).

Ideas are pointless if you don't do anything with them.

You are not a writer unless you consistently write.

Making moodboards, playlists, etc, before you have started the project is a form of procrastination.

No one cares about your idea as much as you do and never will.

Most people in your life will not care about your book.

A lot of peoples' opinions about writing are useless to you.

You need to develop healthy self-esteem if you want to be a good writer.

You also need to be humble and have a beginner's mindset forever.

Being mentally ill doesn't make you a better writer. It just means you're mentally ill.

Your real actual life matters more than your writing.

You will burn out if you don't have other hobbies.

Okay, okay, let's make you hate me.

Your first book probably sucks (with caveats).

If this is your first ever long project in writing, it is likely not going to be publishable (or, perhaps, even readable). It takes years, sometimes decades, to learn how to write well.

Do not think that because you have one singular idea and have slapped a book together that you can publish it to widespread acclaim. People who do this are deeply overestimating the quality of their work, seeing it through rose-tinted glasses.

One of my first long-form writing projects as sort of an adult was utter garbage. You can read it if you want; it's a BBC Sherlock fanfic. And it's fucking awful. I had written a lot of smaller things before this, but nothing to this scale. That much is quite obvious.

I'm grateful I started my journey writing fanfic, because otherwise I would have thought this was brilliant life-changing stuff.

In fact, I actually put together a copy of all my Sherlock fanfics called 11 Ways of Playing a Stradivarius that is probably floating around somewhere on the internet (though it got smacked down for copyright infringement eventually, because I was stupid). It sold absolutely zero copies, and rightly so. It's bad.

And that is okay. Shitty writing is par for the course when you are learning. It doesn't mean you'll never be good. It just means you're not there yet.

I have, to my great relief, improved immeasurably over the years, to the point where I have felt confident selling my work for real human money. You can purchase the culmination of that hard work right this instant, if you so choose. Should you do so, I am certain you will see exactly how much I've grown as a writer.

Ideas are pointless if you don't do anything with them.

I know I have said this before but I just need to drill it into your heads. Your idea means nothing unless you actually write the damn thing.

Millions of people have story ideas. Most of them will never do anything with those ideas. At best, they'll daydream about it but make up a billion excuses why they can't. At second-worst, they will badger actual writers to do the idea for them.

At worst worst, they will use AI to do it for them and call it a day. And we will all hate them for it.

You do not need to be protective of your idea or hide it, because someone has already thought of it and then made excuses as to why they can't be bothered to execute it. You have to be the one who doesn't fall into the trap and does the damn thing.

Look, I'll give you all the story ideas I have if you want. I don't care. In fact, I share them frequently and encourage others to give it a shot if they want to.

I'm not hiding any ideas because I know you will not do it exactly as I will. My voice is unique and it doesn't matter if there are dozens of people with the same idea: my story will be mine, and no one else's.

You are not a writer unless you consistently write.

This doesn't mean writing for five hours every day, or even doing 100 words every day. When I get to the tail end of the project, I tend to start slowing down because I have to think more critically about how to tie everything together. During the active drafting phase, I might do 2,000 words per day, but things ease up at the end, both because I'm sad that this phase is almost over and because I don't have much left to do.

But you don't get to call yourself a writer if you write like 100 words a month and spend the rest of the time doing moodboards and talking about your ideas. Whatever your rhythm, you need to stick with it and develop discipline, or you just have an idea and nothing else.

Making moodboards, playlists, etc, before you have started the project is a form of procrastination.

Note I said before you have really gotten into the meat of your project. Moodboards are a great way to promo your project and get peoples' attention, because visuals are more interesting than a wall of text. (That's why I start these kinds of posts with a picture.)

Oh, there's another one!

The thing is that a lot of would-be writers get trapped by the "oh this is research, this is plotting, this is giving me ideas, this is inspo." It's not. It's visual daydreaming and nothing more.

Any time that I have done a moodboard before starting a story, I give up on that story, because then I feel like I've done most of the work when I categorically have not. When I do moodboards once I get to the halfway point, I'm already in the home stretch and have no reason to stop. When I do a moodboard after I am already done and in the revision stage, then I'm good to go and building hype for my project.

Do not waste your time doing moodboards and playlists and visuals before you do the real stuff: worldbuilding, plotting, hammering out characterization. Get started before you start playing around with pretty pictures because it's not really getting you anywhere.

No one cares about your idea as much as you do and never will.

This is pretty self-explanatory so I won't expound too much. Your writing is the most important thing to you, but everyone else has their own stuff going on. If you're building hype with other writers, they have their own projects and are not going to be your free promotional team. They want your attention for their stuff, not yours.

Most people in your life will not really care about your book.

Again, everyone's got their own things going on. Also, most non-writers don't really understand how difficult it is to write a whole book. They are consumers and see the finished project; it's content to them. They care about you, to be sure, but your book doesn't really click as a big accomplishment because they're not familiar with the process.

You may notice, and seethe slightly, that relatively mundane things like weddings, graduations, and baby announcements will get WAY more attention than your book. A friend showing their ultrasound pic will get dozens of likes and comments and congratulations, while like 1 person will say "good job!" when you announce your book.

This is because these kinds of announcements are more relatable to the average person. They may have gotten married, or graduated, or had a baby (and of course probably know dozens of people who have) so they are aware of the challenges and joys.

Unless you are friends with exclusively other writers, your achievement is abstract, and your friends can't really sympathize. Your book is just a way to pass some time.

A lot of peoples' opinions about writing are useless to you.

I do not really like getting beta readers from places like r/betareaders because I have no idea how much that person actually knows about writing. Being able to visualize and suggest ways forward requires an understanding of the craft, but many people think that because they like to read, they know how to critique, when they are completely different skills.

Yes, unknowledgeable beta readers can give you a "man on the street" perspective of your book, but they tend to forget that beta readers are meant to help you fix your book as it is. Not turn it into something they personally would enjoy reading if they are not the target audience.

This requires recognizing audience and putting aside one's own preferences to focus on how the book would come across to an imagined ideal reader. Not everyone can do this. Actually, most people can't.

Some of the dumbest comments I've gotten about my work are from people who want to wrest control away from me and make it their preferred genre/plot/etc. These are useless suggestions.

Wonderful beta readers help to enhance your story, and they are golden. Instead of demanding you do something different, they offer their honest reactions of the work as it is and suggest opportunities to enrich the writing, tweak it, deepen the characterization, and so on.

Helpful beta readers are typically other writers regardless of their specific writing level. Newbie writers can be an excellent resource! And you're helping them, too: they will see your mistakes and know what not to do, and they can learn from your strengths. It's a positive experience all around.

Writers must come to understand what is good advice and what is not. Essentially, anyone who suggests things that are completely out of left field and totally unrelated to what you're trying to do is giving bad advice, and you should ignore them.

You need to develop healthy self-esteem if you want to be a good writer.

When you constantly put yourself down, complain about how bad your first draft is, say you have no idea what you're doing, and insist that no one will ever enjoy your work, guess what: you're right.

But you're right because you're essentially telling other people that your work sucks and they should not give it a chance. What you say about your writing will influence how readers interact with your work. You are priming them to dislike your writing and telling them what to think.

Imposter syndrome strikes all of us at times, but you need to push through it. One of the best ways to do so is to just continue writing. Keep going. Soon enough, you will develop experience, and experience will create confidence, and that confidence will shine through in your work.

When you consider saying something self-deprecating about your work, stop. You're going to make it come true.

You also need to be humble and have a beginner's mindset forever.

Doing so means understanding the difference between being self-deprecating and being humble.

Self-deprecation is when someone says your work is great and you immediately go "oh you're saying that to be nice, it's awful, I hate it."

Humility is when someone says your work is great and you go "Thank you!" and leave it at that.

You're not gloating or bragging by saying thank you, but you're also not cutting yourself off at the knees and making people uncomfortable by self-flagellating.

Honestly, the best thing you can ever say when you get a compliment about anything, including your writing, is just "thank you." Nothing else. Maybe an "I appreciate it" or "I'm glad you think so!" You don't need to go into detail.

But humility also means acknowledging that no matter how long you have been writing, there is always something you can do better. You will always be learning and making mistakes. Thinking you've peaked is when your writing gets stale and boring.

I have been learning rock climbing, and one of my favorite things to do is to watch pro climbers critique their own technique. They're not self-deprecating or saying they're horrible, but they're also not claiming they are perfect and can never do anything better.

Magnus Midtbø is incredible because even though he is a truly masterful climber, he posts a lot about his fails or when other climbers make him eat shit. This is an amazing video of him getting wrecked by an Olympic climber and taking it on the chin! He doesn't whine about how bad he is, he's just like "hmm, yeah, I can see where I screwed up, I'm so glad that I got to watch you climb, this is an honor."

That is the perfect blend of confidence and humility. He knows he can improve, but he doesn't deride his own skill. This is the mindset you need as a writer.

Being mentally ill doesn't make you a better writer. It just means you're mentally ill.

Anyone can be a good writer. Mental illness does not give you a super-secret advantage. It actually puts you at a disadvantage because your brain is expending so much energy staying stable that it does not have the same capacity as other people.

Fix your mental health issues instead of using them as a crutch or deluding yourself into believing they make you special. Like half of the population will develop some type of mental illness during their lifetime, and insisting that you need your mental illness to write is trapping you by making you not want to get help.

I have severe bipolar. This does not necessarily make me a great writer. In fact, it can make my writing suck ass if I am not stable. And no, you are not somehow exempt from having consequences for refusing to take care of your mental health. I promise you that you will be a better writer when you have sorted out your mental health issues.

Your real actual life matters more than your writing.

This is related to the above point. Your mental health, your stability, your social circle are all crucial elements of being a good, productive writer, and you can't ignore them in favor of suffering for your art.

The quality of my work has skyrocketed at two significant points in my life: once when I got out of a relationship that was hurting me and once when I ditched a toxic friend. The first one was when I started writing fanfic again, and the second was when I finally began The Eirenic Verses.

I would not have written 2 million words if I still had those nasty influences in my life, and I would not be living my best life. I likely never would have found my favorite hobbies and started going to therapy if I was still trapped in those negative cycles. Attending to my real-life problems both enhanced my writing and made me a better, more likeable, more functional person. I expect you will find the same thing.

You will burn out if you don't have other hobbies.

Hobbies. I cannot stress enough how important it is to have other hobbies that have nothing to do with writing. Yes, it means you have less time to write, but it also means that when you do sit down and write, you have better focus because you've fulfilled your other needs.

I picked up horseback riding again in February of this year and go once a week. I can't stress enough how good this has been for my writing and for my overall well-being. I have pretty bad agoraphobia, but since I started riding again, I have been less scared of leaving the house and less worried about what people think about me. My world has become larger and friendlier.

Now I'm doing rock climbing too. The physical and mental stimulation helps me focus better when I write, and I get way more done in less time. Plus, the quality of that writing is better because I'm getting more bloodflow into my brain and nourishing the tissues. There's also the fact that when I do have time to write, I'm not burned out and frustrated because all I've been doing all day is writing.

I look forward to my writing sessions more because they feel like a treat, and I have gotten a self-esteem boost by doing well in the gym. I am happier, calmer, and sleeping better due to the exercise.

Well-adjusted humans need social outlets, physical movement, a strong support network, good nutrition, and opportunities to relax. Our horrible capitalist system makes it very hard to balance all of these, but you must at least try.

Your hobbies don't need to be expensive. It can be something as simple as drawing, or going for a long nature walk, or learning origami, or buying a used camera and learning photography. Go to your local library and take a free course! Join a cheap gym and go a few times a week. Teach yourself something using YouTube. Buy secondhand equipment on Craigslist. There are so many affordable options.

Again, caring for your overall well-being is a true godsend when it comes to writing. Having something else to fulfill you will help you push through those hard days when nothing is coming to you, and it offers your brain a break from plotting, writing, revising, etc.

So that's it. If you read this to the very end, you're quite the gem; I know this was excruciatingly long. And mean.

Since you're here, maybe you will consider purchasing my debut novel, which was written by applying all these tips. (And not using AI - fuck off, NaNoWriMo.)

9 Years Yearning is a coming-of-age gay romance set in a fantasy world with poetry magic. It follows two young men as they grow from sorta-enemies, to frenemies, to friends, and finally to lovers.

If you do read it, please don't forget to leave a review!

Even if it's mean. Don't worry, I won't be mad. Reviews are essential to getting visibility on Amazon, so every single one is golden to me.

[yuukei-yikes]

Long as hell text post under the cut my guys

me when i wake up and talk every day about the same shit. heart <3 i could talk for days abt jin and the misogyny he writes with. it's everywhere of course lol but out of the female characters takane's like…. the most tragic, in my opinion, because she's the only female character to have absolutely 0 backstory. yes, there's Some stuff, such as her illness, but truly takane does not have that much angst surrounding her illness. everything about her is rather about haruka. takane's moment is yuukei yesterday, but yuukei yesterday is entirely about both haruka and takane and their relationship. yes it's takane's pov, but it's ultimately still about… haruka, and how she feels about him.

back then in the fandom, pre over the dimension specifically, there was a take going around i remember pretty well. "people write haruka and takane like there's nothing more to them than being in love with each other" like the only time we'd see haruka and takane specifically (in fan content), they'd just be there to be shippy. i TOTALLY agreed with this sentiment and i always have, especially because i've always been obsessed with them as characters and i was overanalyzing every little thing (when otd came out i was over the moon bc i got so much stuff right btw. if u even care)

HOWEVER. if u think about it. pre over the dimension, with the manga having covered yuukei yesterday already and the next time takane (and haruka) appear as themselves in the manga is A LOT later in volume 10 (by that time, otd was already out) (also i'll get to takane in 2nd manga route in a second), so what we had at the time, for haruka and takane's backstory, was manga&novel yuukei yesterday and what we got from the anime. if you consider this… truly, at first the only thing to go off really was. just their relationship. that was all there was to both of them, because haruka was described from takane's pov, and everything we got from takane was how she felt for haruka. that was IT. for everything else u had to read between the lines like i was doing bc 10 years later i'd still be here talking about it teehee

of course there are also the songs. takane's songs set in time before she's ene are yuukei yesterday and of course headphone actor, one of the Best kagepro songs dont even come AT ME anyways headphone actor as a song touches THE OTHER BIG THING we were offered about takane at the time. okay, she isn't JUST in love with haruka. the other thing about takane is… she wants to SURVIVE!!!

i've talked about this LOADS of times i know (about this entire thing actually but i just like talking about also it's my blog) takane gets opening eyes because she's so determined to live. ratio + this from novel 2 headphone actor

which brings me to. ugh. second manga route. takane….would not…. KILL HERSELF…. second manga route WHY. we finally get to see Takane again in the manga and she's just so spectacularly NOT HERSELF it's crazy. takane since her INTRODUCTION is presented as "selfish" and how her want for attention from haruka or in general gets the best of her. that's ene. THAT'S ene!!! that's also why ENE stays with shintaro!!! it is FUNDAMENTAL to her character. we were given miserably little about her and in the most simplified way to put it, those things are: takane 1. is an attention whore<3 2. doesn't want to die. so tell me. how do you manage to get these 2 very simple things so incredibly WRONG in second manga route.

where in the world would takane get mad haruka got another friend. it makes NO sense!?!? bro haruka and shintaro ARE ALSO BEST FRIENDS IN THE MAIN ROUTE, where takane ACTUALLY HAS REASONS TO ACTIVELY REALLY DISLIKE SHINTARO, and she doesn't give a fuck that they're friends, why would she randomly care so much now when she has no reason to even dislike shintaro? so basically because she doesn't have ayano she gets jealous and wants haruka all to herself?? erm ok?? let's say that's true (it's not), even if she was jealous of shintaro her desire to be by haruka's side WILL be stronger, she would NEVER just turn around and leave. absolutely NOT. one of the stupidest things takane does is want haruka to look her way so bad she doesn't realize HE'S DYING ON HER. this bitch is so insanely self centered she would never in her life walk out on haruka just for having another friend. REAL takane walks in there with that stupid basket and be like Everyone look at me NOW<3

ok. first trait: attention whore: second manga route FAILS. second trait: doesn't want to die. wonder what second manga route will do. (looks into the camera) takane kills herself in second manga route.

dude you're crazy. you literally get EVERYTHING WRONG. it pisses me off. and not only does she kill herself but she does it because haruka DIED!?!?!?!?!? OH MY GOD. i hate it it's so fucking fake it's not HER THAT'S NOT TAKANE ENOMOTO THAT'S A SHIT CHARACTER JIN AND MAHIRO SATO DECIDED TO SUDDENLY WRITE INTO THE STORY i already put it in this post but let me attach it again

dear lord. anyways i've talked about that loads of times but i needed to include it in this talk cuz. yeah. i dont even HATE the rest of second manga route i just hate how takane is written specifically but since she's everything 2 me erm. you get my thumbs down!!! anyways having acknowledged second manga route we can move on.

back to main route discussion. so takane's backstory. not super deep, especially compared to other characters. yes her backstory is basically that she's sad because her boyfriend dies. but as ene there's so much more to unpack, right?! a character who will 100% accept a HALF DEATH because she's so determined not to die, but she's also mentioned to be tirelessly looking for her body because despite everything she's got HOPE? that's SUPER interesting, i love her!! what will she- *is obsessed with shintaro* ene's obsession with shintaro again ties in with everything else, desperate for attention, finds kinship with shintaro because she (or rather, ayano) decided he's compatible with her, but most importantly, he's doing badly and she wants to help him. takane isn't a person anymore, she's alive only as a technicality, so… she spends time with shintaro! but we ignore, it's TWO YEARS. and only in one of those she is with shintaro. we tend to overlook she spends the WHOLE TIME looking for her body in that other year. of course ene talks a lot about how much she loves her power, how much she loves being ene and not having to take care of her sick body but it's a REALITY that she wants to get it back. if she really didn't want it, why would she look for it and later get back into it when she does find it? but that's in between the lines. ene's obsession with shintaro is super interesting and you KNOW i love everything we know about takane be it her obsession with shintaro or her crush on haruka. i just wish there was....more.... like everyone else gets more! like HARUKA, a damn side character, gets more!!

haruka gets so SO much, he even bonds with SETO!! he gets a really well developed friendship with shintaro, he gets a very long detailed introduction scene with ayano with funny younger mekatrio shenanigans, he gets yuukei quartet hangout moments, he gets a GOOD RELATIONSHIP WITH KENJIROU (fundamental imo as he's very important both in general and haruka and takane's social circle back then) and not just all that, but super thoughtfully written feelings about his illness, views on life, wishes... and all takane's story gets is…. she's sick, but it's ok it's not deadly, HARUKA HOWEVER…. oh, HE'S the real delicate one….especially since she's in love with him ofcourse!! dont forget!! btw she's grumpy cuz of her illness. she wishes she just didn't need sleep. aaanywaaays did we mention it's not as important as haruka's illness and btw she's in love with him?

unlike haruka, takane gets no relationship with ayano, and all their interactions are talking about how in LOVE they are with haruka and shintaro. no relationship with kenjirou beyond comic relief of ugh useless ass teacher, even revealed later on she stays in the dark about kenjirou forcing them to participate in the festival ON PURPOSE and playing her like that so she would be determined and make haruka join. her dynamic to shintaro pre being ene is just pitiful, and if it wasn't for his behavior towards her shintaro would be…. erm normal?? yea he's cold to ayano but that vs the way he randomly treats takane without even knowing her. god. imagine kagepro where shintaro DIDN'T do that. he'd still be flawed and stuff like what was the need😭 like HUUHH. takane gets nothing!!!!! and if we're still on the shintaro subject, why she's the asshole for being a menace as ene? whatever. i support women's wrongs. bully him harder.

alright. later she's ene, bonds with the dan. wait!! look!! it's KANO!!! she has so much in common with him, to the point he chooses her to open up to and helps her get her body back!!! this is a GREAT character choice to pair her with and to develop a dynamic with!! uh. oh wait….. kano's just totally awful to her and then later leaves her to get her body back offscreen and on her own? (looks into the camera again)

to continue comparing haruka and takane. takane mentions grandma makes her lunch, grandpa is dead, and they're both SUPER worried about her illness. there's…. nothing about their personalities or their relationship to her. meanwhile, haruka mentions everything! he's all like my illness… when it killed my mother it was exactly when the doctors said it would. my dad is cold and a little strange and doesnt spend time at home. we have a live in helper who does chores. like that's already so much deeper!

u find out through another mention later on that takane's parents work overseas but you dont know ANYTHING else despite it being so specific. while haruka goes on about his relationship with his dad or rather lack of relationship, and there's even some stranger at home doing chores for him. and again HE GETS TO HAVE A CLOSE RELATIONSHIP WITH KENJIROU, heavily written as a father/son dynamic. man.

anyways…. this is kinda all over the place and it's something i talk about very often but teehee. wanted to do it again. i was thinking about it again because i realized i don't tend to draw haruka in a context outside being takane's boytoy. which i don't particularly care about because i know that's not all i see him as and i do see him as a deep character of his own and i like analyzing him just as much… it's just in art specifically he's just always there to be in love with her and nothing else. and i was like damn does that suck of me?? but you know what. i dont care<3 thanks for coming to my ted talk.

[toadletthethird]

Can we have cage for that ask game? :3

Ohhh thanks for the question! but I might be the bad person to ask this, because I love to talk about her wayyy too much

Send me a character and I'll list:

1) favourite thing about them

I love her so much from narrative standpoint for things she can represent. Her chapter can be a great statement about trauma response that is often overlooked. Fight or flight are great, of course, but freeze just hits home.

In prisoner's chapter her one resort of hope was lost. She made a plead to be saved in the act of decapitation and was unheard. Such a wish broken. To put everything into something to not work out is so painful. Especially the second time. And new attempts would just remind about the helplessness - disappointment is not an easy wound to heal - so it's easier to embrace it. To find meaning in your pain. It is cruel and absurd and undeserved, but it is yours. You can find beauty in its horrors. And it makes it significant. It gives it at least some little sense it needs to not be so painfully pointless. To her, at least. It's her way to survive. (Oh how I love overrationalisation as a way to cope)

And I like how it's shown that it's hurtful not only to her but to people around too. She is not violent herself, but by not rejecting this harmful behaviour she lets the circle of violence to continue. And it what happens when you fall into a mindset like this. You get so focused on endurance that you fail to see the aftermath of your actions. It can manifest as neglect, direct danger or, most often, the suffering your close ones feel watching you. And there's no exit from the cycle but to acknowledge how harmful your coping is. It's not her fault, but it is so. (Interestingly, while the Allegory of the cage ending is exactly like that, No Exit is about bringing someone on the same level as you.... Becoming the same danger you were afraid of..... and to project that fearful worldview onto someone, subconsciously.....I think it can have interesting connotations to real life)

I believe her story can be beautiful allegory to withstanding any traumatic event that gives you no other choice than to accept it. You know: grief, chronic illness, abuse, depression, etc. You name it

Also, there is a reading of prisoner-cage as an allegory to self harming behaviour in my main account. I can't say if it's as good as I remember it to be (I physically can't take a second look at anything I do until a decade passes - yeah, it's a curse thing. never trust fairies), but it's still very dear to me.

2) the least favourite thing about them

I'm a simple girl...... The only complaint I have is deleted dialogue from prisoner........

3) Favourite line

Of course it's "Look at us go. Aren't we beautiful?"

But honourable mention is her head pun because.......I love puns. And "What? Like the answer's obvisous? Like it's staring me right in the face? Just like you?" because it was so funny to find

4)brotp

Cage and HEA would find a lot in common. I like to make all damsel and prisoner based vessels friends. And I love parallels

Also with thorn and PATD because of the "were in terrible situations and survived" similarity. I just like to imagine them all happy together, you know

5) OTP

I....I might like her with broken........I just really like broken in this chapter

6) notp

Nothing there

7) random headcanon

She and Prisoner give me insane Antiquity vibes for no particular reason. So I like to imagine Cage speaking ancient Greek (a lot of linker words make this language sound extremely cycle like. And sometimes prepositions start somewhere and stretch a looooong way only to remind of themselves again in the end of the sentence - very chain like) and Prisoner speaking Latin (very clear to use intellectual language). Just for fun.

8) unpopular opinion

My hierarchy for cage's endings is: No Exit, The Riddle of Steel, Allegory of the Cage

Yeah, I'm so shameful about that, but.... I love tragedies..... And I don't like when the solution to the puzzle is beyond the puzzle....... I'm so glad happy ending for her exists, but it's not for me

Oh and I like the possibility of free will ending. It's horrendous, no doubt, but I'm glad that there is such a choice available. After the horror of withdrawal we can experience the horror of freedom. Absurd of selfexpression. There is something about it

9) Song I associate with them

"I bet on losing dogs" by mitski simply because she is my baby :(

10) favourite image

Oh I love every shot from this chapter. But the dance sequence particularly

(Also there is a very particular shot when you strike her in the heart and her body, while still standing, holds the blade so firmly but I'm afraid it's too risky for tumblr and I'm not in a risky mood hahah)

That's all!

[rencatuive]

:0

Can you please yap about Whit.. 🥺

favourite thing: how normal he seems on the surface but take ONE glance beneath the surface and. theres so much going on. my whit speculations tend to get more notes and its easy to see why. its a testament to how well drdtdev does suspense and mystery which is. so important when your fans will have years to sit on the same content. he has a dead mom. he talked to teruko about his mom as if she were alive. he doesnt react to dead bodies- but he does to a locked elevator. and most importantly. nobody talks to him about this!!! we have to connect a lot of shit together by rewatching the series to build onto this side of him that has never actually been touched on by the characters or plot yet! its so cool

least favourite thing: stupid ass puns (/j i dont have anything)

favourite line: "He's my friend! So of course I'll argue for his sake" a white lie which ends up becoming the truth, and forming one of the strongest (friend)ships in this story. very sweet.

brOTP: whitrei and whitruko. whitrei is majorly because of @.shira_ceres' gorgeous art and i think whitruko just have some cute scenes, mainly the laundry room scene (which i feel like is pretty underrated! whit is really sweet actually despite being so suspicious) but also some chapter 2 moments like lunch and the dressing room.

OTP: charwit. yep. groundbreaking. theyre definitely doing so much behind the scenes and i want to know about all of it. they're so. almost healthy but im staring at you whit

NOTP: dont have one.

random headcannon: whit is an avid twitter user.

unpopular opinion: i don't have a real unpopular opinion so ill say that the whit mastermind theory being so popular means that i can't see anyone else as a potential mastermind. but also. whit seems TOO suspicious now like he has so much going on and drdt is good at unexpected killers til the end so i could see it being the same with the mastermind... theorising is so hard

favourite picture:

MY BOY HAS SO MUCH STYLE one of the most well dressed in the series also. and soso silly.

[writeshite]

Puppy Love

Summary:

“One would think you’ve become besotten with me, Lord Stark,” you quip, circling each other at a slow pace. “I would agree.” His arm moves up, and you meet it, wrists side by side, “dragons are a rare sight in the North; anyone would be enamored.” You chuckle, “I should say the same; wolves are equally as captivating."

Pairings:

Robb Stark x Male Reader

Tags:

Targaryen Reader | Fluff | Smitten Robb Stark

Words: 2122

Author's Note:

I have not actually watched the show or read the books fully 👉🏾👈🏾 I know things, but most of my knowledge is sporadic and random; it'll be like 60% accurate, I think....in my defense, I want dragons, and I also want Robb Stark, so like what else am I supposed to do 💀. Also, sorry if the High Valyrian in here is shit; I'm very behind in my Duolingo course.

“The dragons have taken back the Iron Throne.”

Robb didn’t quite know how to react to the news; his battle had been for the North, and the workings of the other kingdoms and their squabbles had never immensely mattered to him as much as he knew they should. The ball had been his mother’s suggestion, correction insistence, “As king, you should set an example and get ahead of the other kingdoms.” 

The Targarayens arrive on dragon back - each on a separate one - the beasts shake the ground when they land, thunderous roars echoing into the skies. Her Majesty, Daenerys Targaryen, is poised, expression calm as she descends her dragon; another figure follows behind her - the Queen's Hand Missandei - the other dragon rider, steals more of Robb’s attention. Expression perhaps more joyful, you appear rather ill-equipped for the weather, furs less than satisfactory in Robb’s opinion. Your attire appears snow-touched, with little color - a touch of red on the collar of your coat - and dragon detailing on the lapels. Your silver locks are platted back in a simplistic rider’s style, held together by an intricate golden band.

Your company trails behind, arriving just moments later. Robb is accompanied by his mother, Sansa, and Arya, the latter of the three stares in awe at the dragons. Robb picks up a bit of conversation as you approach them, dying down when you come to stand in front of them; the words are of another tongue - High Valyrian, he thinks. “Your grace,” he greets, “welcome to Winterfell.”

“Thank you, Lord Stark,” she gestured to one side, “you know of my wife and hand, Missandei,” Robb nods, and she gestures to you, “and my cousin.” 

“A pleasure,” you greet him.

Robb had yet to follow etiquette, and in the spirit of that, he responds to your greeting and awaiting handshake with a kiss - placed on the back of your hand. Your skin trembles in the cold, cool to the touch; he rubs his thumb along it in an effort to create some heat. The purple of your eyes was entrancing, deep pools that drew his gaze easily. His mother’s cough draws him back; her disapproving and mildly irritated glance is counteracted by Sansa and Arya’s amused ones. The servants lead you to your temporary quarters, and Robb’s linger on your retreating form; his mother’s lecture drifts elsewhere in his mind, barely settling before it’s tossed aside by the glee of seeing you once more at the welcoming banquet.

Winterfell was colder than you expected. 

The invitation had seen no hurried response - with the rebuilding of King’s Landing, a new Dragon’s Pit, and many other matters - coming to Winterfell had primarily been driven by the need for a break. You rode on Morghon, Daenerys, and Missandei rode on Drogon, with Rhaegal and Viserion following and a company of Dothraki followed from the ground. The cool weather had been the first thing you’d noted, the second being the admittedly attractive King in the North. He donned a thick fur cape overtop his attire, a ringlet crown surmounted by iron spikes, and three wolves at the central front.

“Dubāzma,” you shrug at Daenerys’ warning tone; you hadn’t done anything; you simply glanced at the man.

You counter such, “Eman gaomagon daorun, ivestragon zirȳla Missandei.” 

Missandei shakes her head, amusement in her tone, “Iā bughegon isse suvion iēdar kostilus,” she jests.

You shake your head, and the conversation breaks off as Lord Stark welcomes you to Winterfell. Daenerys responds with light introductions for both Missandei, then you.

“A pleasure,” you say once introduced, hand held out, ready for a handshake. Lord Stark does something far different. Taking your hand, he turns it over and lays a peck on the back of it, causing Lady Stark’s eyes to grow wide in surprise and his sisters’ expressions to morph into grins.

“The pleasure is all mine,” he replies, eyes locked on yours as he does so. His hand remains with yours for seconds longer, thumb caressing the skin, and when her ladyship breaks the brief haze with a cough, he leaves behind a phantom warmth.

The temporary chambers are cozy, readily warm, and stocked with furs; you set your luggage by the bed and don’t dwell too long on them - furs, a bed, fire, and comfort - as the welcome banquet requires far more attention. You replace your traveling coat with one more suitable for festivities - dark with gold embroidery and light fur trimming on the bottom. You exit the room to find Lord Stark’s figure leaning against the wall opposite, and a smile lights his face at the sight of you.

“Have you come to escort me, Lord Stark?” you inquire.

“If you’d allow it,” he responds with a hint of hope. You chuckle and nod, drawing out a broader smile on his face. The hall is not as far off as you’d imagined; light chatter filters through the open doors as people mill into the open-spaced hall. Far from the entrance sits a horizontally set long table - the Starks on the right, Taragrayens on the left - the other tables line the sides, leaving the middle empty. 

“Lord Robb of House Stark, King in the North, Lord of Winterfell…” the announcer declares, drawing attention to you both; he announces you next, “...of House Targaryen….” It had been your idea to drop your name of Velaryon, “...Dragonheart of Old Valyria, and Prince of The Ashes.” The latter of the titles stood more as a slight mockery, with your old life on the remnants of Old Valyria, those that had spotted you and Morghon had called you that in whispers.

You take the two remaining seats at the long table, Robb near the center, you near the edge, close to Missandei. The food is wonderful; meats, deserts, ale, and various Northern delicacies are brought to the tables - the honeyed chicken may well become one of your new favorites. People begin to mingle after the main courses as music fills the halls in steady beats; you follow suit at Lord Stark’s request to dance. 

“One would think you’ve become besotten with me, Lord Stark,” you quip, circling each other at a slow pace.

“I would agree.” His arm moves up, and you meet it, wrists side by side, “dragons are a rare sight in the North; anyone would be enamored.”

You chuckle, “I would say the same; wolves are equally as captivating,” your arms turn, both palms now against the other; he laces his fingers with yours, a cheeky grin on his face. You turn to circle in the opposite direction, the crowd around you filtering out as you remain fixated on each other. You draw back, hands still intertwined; coming back again, he places his other hand on your shoulder as yours goes to his hip. A few paces and you should separate from the other, turn to another person and carry on the dance, but you don’t, remaining in each other’s grasp as you drift across the floor. 

The music changes and a joyful beat begins; the formality is lost as the crowd of dancers switches to more upbeat and expressive movements. Lord Stark tugs at your arm, head tilting towards the doors; you turn briefly to glance at the long table - Lady Arya is immersed in conversation with Daenerys; Missandei and Lady Sansa are the same; Lady Stark herself, however, appears to have swallowed a lemon, eyes glaring daggers at his Lordship. You return your attention to said man and allow him to drag you away from the hall.

Robb hadn’t paid much attention to his mother’s lecture; her words went in one ear and out the other; she wasn’t angry, not truly, merely cautious. The interest seemed mutual to some extent, though the matter of marital affairs would be complicated - gods know the Lords of Westeros would turn their noses high in disgust - his almost engagements had all fallen through when he’d paid them little mind. 

“Robb Stark!” His mother’s voice cuts through his thoughts, “I understand your attraction circumvents what the realm would regard as suitable, but that is no excuse, do not trifle with him; we don’t need them setting our lands ablaze.” 

“You’ve outdone yourself this time,” Sansa comments after their mother leaves. 

Robb purses his lips; a wise man would take the words to heart and cease whatever he was doing - even if this interaction bore positive fruit, there was no certainty it would be in the best interest of the North. Her Majesty could have him abdicate his throne in favor of moving into the Targarayen household, or she could disapprove of him and feed him to her dragons. Robb was a man of heart, the kind that intercepted the servant at your chambers and took it upon himself to escort you personally to the dining halls.

Your previous coat has been replaced by a darker one; golden dragon heads decorate the cuffs, and it sits tighter on your person, with the fur trimming at the bottom fluttering delicately as you walk. “Have you come to escort me, Lord Stark?”

“If you’d allow it,” he responds, and gods, he hopes you would. He feels himself smile wider at your agreement, arm threaded with yours; the short walk to the dining halls leaves him ecstatic.

“Lord Robb of House Stark, King in the North, Lord of Winterfell…” the declaration echoes in the hall; brief glances become more fixated on your intertwined arms. His mother’s eyes squint, a frown on her face, “...of House Targaryen, Dragonheart of Old Valyria, and Prince of The Ashes.” 

Robb thanks the gods; his mother’s seat is further from him; if looks could kill, he’s certain he’d have died at the entrance. “You’ve taken to my cousin quite quickly, Lord Stark,” Her Majesty’s voice draws his attention.

Her gaze is steady as she regards him, “I suppose, your grace, is that a problem?” 

It’s no secret that certain parts of Westeros and their rulers disapprove of other attractions; Robb’s not quite sure where his father would have stood on the matter - he imagines him supportive - he knows his mother prefers he be less expressive on the subject. Queen Daenerys had been quite clear on her stance, disregarding the disapproval of her new laws and marriage, though that’s not to say she would like to have him as her in-law.

“Not as long as he is happy, and well,” she answers, “I have little family left; I cannot help my worry.”

There is an underlying threat to her words, and Robb nods in understanding, and it satisfies her enough to turn away from him. The food is brought in just after - honeyed chicken, venison pies, cod cakes, ale, candied bread - the music begins near the tail end of the feast. Some sway to the tune, conversations carrying in the air, as the music changes to something more befitting a dance. He stands and moves down the long table towards you, “Care for a dance?”

“One would think you’ve become besotten with me, Lord Stark,” you quip. 

“I would agree; dragons are a rare sight in the North; anyone would be enamored.” Your arms meet in the middle, level to your heads, as you circle each other; even as the other dancers switch partners, you remain together. Up until the music changes and a less formal tune carries in the air, you follow suit, hand in Robb’s as he drags you from the hall. You stroll idly through the halls, hands held together and swung lowly and sharing idle chatter.

“What do you call your dragon?”

“Morghon,” you respond, “it means death, a fitting name. Would you like to see him?” Robb pursed his lips, and you chuckled at his hesitation, “Don’t tell me you’re scared of dragons,” you teased; coming to a halt, you tugged him closer, “certainly not after flirting with one.”

He can feel the heat creep up his neck and imagines his skin pinker at the moment, “What if he bites?”

“He won’t,” your graze drifts a little lower, “but I could.”

“Is that an invitation to your bed, my prince?”

“If you’d like, you could show me how warm the North could be. I’m sure a few hours of demonstration should suffice.”

“The demonstration will have to wait for another time, your grace,” his mother’s voice cuts in. You both jump apart, hands loosely held together; she grabs Robb by the arm, “I apologize for the interruption, your grace, but we have some familial matters to attend to.” His face pinches into a frown as his mother leads him away; he remains turned enough to send you a brief wave and a smile and is thrilled to see you return it.

End Note:

Hope you enjoyed this mess. Stay hydrated.

[sebwritesstories]

SALLY STARLET NAME-GIVING OBSERVATIONS

Okay, this is just a small theory, but I've noticed how Sally interacts with her fellow neighbors, and I have guesses on how she addresses them, and whether that shows her respect for them (which may change as the Welcome Home timeline becomes clearer to navigate).

To do so, I will list the characters based on whether they are the most or least respected, to make the tier list clear.

SALLY STARLET🌈⭐️: Mainly tiering her first for the ENORMOUS amount of self-respect she has. From that, we can see that she isn't one to lengthen, fancify, or change her moniker in any sort of way or form. She is, of course, Sally Starlet! The kind of pride and integrity that she has for herself is one of her more redeemable qualities, at least in my opinion.

POPPY PARTRIDGE🥧🧶: Sally's home-bodied galpal may be second on the list, but she is the only other neighbor that she constantly calls by her own name. Not to mention the fact that Poppy is the only neighbor that Sally will constantly praise for her talents, try to break out of her isolating lifestyle, and admit her mistakes and goof-ups to (which is something Sally has too much pride to do with any other neighbor)! From that, I can safely say that Sally holds Poppy in the highest regard (maybe even higher than platonically expected, we shall see), which shows through the lack of name fancification.

BARNABY B. BEAGLE🌭🎉: I am mainly putting Barnaby here for now, as he is the only other neighbor yet to be called a fancy moniker, but tends to get Sally riled up for the sake of it. It has often been stated how segments with Sally's plays will often be changed in some silly shape or form, mainly by Barnaby wanting to mess with her (similar to the Fractured Fairytales segment from Rocky and Bullwinkle). She could respect him as a fellow lover of theater and show-biz (as they play around a bit, like in Eddie's Big Lift), but I will hold off on speculations until the update next week.

JULIE JOYFUL💐🎳: This colorful character will be called both "Juliet" and her own name when Sally is exasperated with her. From their interactions, Sally seems to be patient enough around Julie and will be tolerant of the changes to stories and plays that she comes up with.

WALLY DARLING🎨🍎: Our gracious host will be called "Walliford" or his own name for similar reasons. Like any other neighbor, Sally has a fondness for Wally, despite his lack in acting skills, and will ask him for help with prop creation and directing assistance.

HOWDY PILLAR🐛🍓: The neighborhood grocer has only been called "Howardson". Sally seems to have no ill will toward Howdy, and will often call upon him for plays due to his acting skills (which unfortunately lead to advertising his store). Sally seemed to a jab at Howdy from time to time, but can easily be swayed by his scam tactics.

HOME🏡🥞: Has only been called by her own name, and we have yet to see any direct interactions between them and Sally.

FRANK FRANKLY🦋🍮: I have only heard Sally call Frank "Fred" while introducing him, so take that as you will (at least until there is a clearer timeline).

EDDIE DEAR✉️🥖: Poor, poor Eddie. He doesn't even get the privilege of being called a proper name. Sally will often refer to Mr. Dear as the "mailman", and will expect him to wait on her like a servant. To be clear, she isn't the only one to overwork or demean him because nearly every neighbor does so (with the exceptions of Wally, Poppy, and maybe Frank). But at least most neighbors have the decency to call Eddie by his name in any form (though this may show my bias, cause I kin Eddie in many respects).

Anywho, thats all I have to say for Sally, till the update! This is mainly just a drabble of sorts, but feel free to say your piece! Constructively, of course.