#sometimes it's right and just to leave. really is. especially since my friendship selection process isn't exactly robust

[aqenn]

I have two bad habits: staying too long on sinking ships and swimming back to the shipwreck years later to try and sail it

[barbasbodaciousbeard]

The Iowa Caucus Happened

A job offer slides into Rafael’s DMs as he waits to find out if it’ll be a new start or prison on February 8.

Accidental Feminist Icon

Delete the Twitter app, Mr. Barba

“Mister Barba?”

Rafael didn’t like hearing his name from the young woman behind him, especially not given what he’d done. He’d texted Carmen on the first day of the trial, and she’d agreed to look into the offers from attorneys he knew, and some he didn’t, while he sat beside Dworkin and emotionally prepared himself to testify. The ones he’d looked at the night before came from people he didn’t like or were last resorts. He’d moved from his visceral response to finding law to back his actions. Applying logic could let him detangle himself from his conflicted emotions. Catholic guilt wrestled his humanity. That said, he also found himself desperate to introduce Ollie to music as Carmen worked from his apartment that first afternoon, not caring for once as the toddler drooled or sneezed or spilled all over him.

“Yes?” he asked, taking his coffee from the cart. “I’m sorry, have we met?”

“We haven’t. I follow you on Twitter.”

“Ah,” he said, shifting awkwardly. “It’s nice to meet you, Miss-”

“Rachel Sullivan. I have, like, a reading Twitter.”

“I’ve seen that! Read with Rachel? Your icon is a copy of Howl?”

“Yeah,” she nodded, chuckling. “I just- listen, I know it’s bad what’s going on and a lot of people are really hurt and going after you. Do I get it? No. But, I think you didn’t get a good choice, and you did what’s right for you. When it seems impossible, it’s not my place to judge something I can’t fathom. And a lot of people feel the same. A bunch of us have a group chat and we hope everything goes well and you get to start again.”

It was a stark contrast to his interaction with mami or emails from church ladies. There was an acknowledgement of disagreement, but he needed more people to respect that they weren’t there like she did. He also remembered watching his father die, and while he didn’t like the man, he regretted not ending that pain. It only drew out hurt for everyone. 

“Thank you, Rachel. That really means the world to me.”

“Good luck today,” she said, giving him a wave when she took her coffee and left. By the end of the day, Rafael hated Peter Stone for being a damn good prosecutor, and he wondered if there were any cases he’d tried, especially the ones before SVU that he was wrong on. He made his way into a new bar, definitely not his usual during all of this, and he sat and drafted his resignation. It took longer than he cared to admit, and he restarted and reread it time and time again. By the time he was drunk, he’d written something he could proofread the next morning and ignored calls from Olivia, Carmen, and mami. 

He decided it was time to do what he had been dreading, logging into Twitter. Since Carmen had cleaned it up, more people had found him, and he was able to easily ignore anything hateful by skimming for murder or murderer in the body of the tweet. He skipped those, and Rafael was surprised to see some apathy, sympathy, or respect for his reasoning. Lazily, he scrolled his direct messages. A select few of the people who knew him contacted him with revulsion, but his filtered messages were filled with vitriol. He found Rachel’s account again, following her back and deciding he could break his unspoken rule of only following people he knew or the occasional blog/podcast/museum/celebrity. If anyone contacted him with kindness, he was now more open to the reciprocity of Twitter; no one would be asking him to prosecute their case soon.  

He saw a message from Tripp Greene. In Harvard, they’d had an unspoken alliance as the two scholarship kids in their cohort, a silent allegiance that continued into law school. There were very few people Rafael respected personally from Harvard, but Tripp had remained kind, even if he worked in something as ruthless as politics. They’d been reunited by Rafael’s uptick in Twitter popularity. He was more proud than he should be by the potential presidential candidates that had followed him. Rafael should have known Tripp would reach out; he was ever the silent cheerleader and had watched a sibling die on life support when he was at Harvard. They’d discussed the morality of pulling plugs and the selfish desire to keep people alive, though most of it had been Tripp talking and Rafael listening.

While moving to Iowa seemed extreme, he was acutely aware that he would end up haunting the DA’s office and Manhattan SVU like some ghost of ADAs past instead of moving forward. His mother had a boyfriend and looming retirement that seemed likely to take the pair to Miami, where she could play grandma to his grandchildren. There was nothing left for him here but Carmen, and while a great friend, she was not enough to erase the last twenty-one years of his life. When Carmen called for the fifth time that night, he ignored it, but it was quickly followed by Answer the phone or I tell Olivia I haven’t heard from you. With a groan, he answered when Carmen called again sixty seconds later.

“I’m fine. I don’t want to delve back into a play by play of my day.”

“That’s why you’re drunk at seven o’clock,” she said, her tone thick with sarcasm as she pretended that solved everything.

“It’s only been two hours?”

“You’re not at Forlini’s.”

“I’m not hanging out with Stone.”

“Send me your location. I just picked Ollie up from mom’s.”

“Take your son home, Carmen. I’ll be fine.”

“But we could talk about how much I also hate Stone. I’ll even stop and let you grab take out from that Cuban place you like.”

“Deal,” he acquiesced, motioning he wanted to close his tab. “Call me when you’re close.”

“Deal. ETA is about fifteen minutes.”

He polished off his scotch, signing the check and tipping well before taking his briefcase and leaning against the wall as he waited for Carmen’s SUV. She waved at him out the window, and he hurried into her passenger seat. Though he always knew that she was a great secretary and assistant, Carmen was proving to be the friend he needed right now. Olivia, in the few phone calls they had, was unwilling to discuss anything but the case. She was in cop mode, and she talked to him like she could swoop in and fix what he had done. While she thought he didn’t know, she’d talked to McCoy, talked to Stone, talked to anyone who would listen. But what she didn’t understand is that he’d accepted going to prison was a possibility, but it was one he felt was worth it.

“Barba!” he heard from the backseat, smiling softly to see Ollie more awake than he’d expected. He’d seen the boy periodically, mostly during evening handoffs when Carmen’s mother would drop him off so Carmen could take him home. There were a lot of single mothers in his life, and all were exceptional. The last few days, Carmen and Ollie both had spent a lot of time with him. He kept introducing Ollie to music and movies and foods like he could make up for everything Drew wouldn’t experience by making sure Ollie did.

“Oliver!” he smiled, twisting around to smile at him. The boy kicked his leg, and the blue stripe on the rubber of his sneakers lit up. “I like your shoes.”’

“Thanks,” he giggled, kicking again. 

“You’re good with him,” Carmen smiled, the navigation now leading her to get his take out. 

“He’s a good kid. Noah made me better with kids. Liv said I held him like a sack of flour at first.”

“You’ll be ready by the time you have your own.”

“I work too much.”

“That can change.”

“I don’t deserve to have a child,” he shrugged, and he could see Carmen purse her lips. “I don’t. I wouldn’t be good at it anyway. Wouldn’t be fair. Besides, I might end up like dad. No kid deserves that shit.”

“Bad word!” Ollie scolded, tablet in hand as he watched a movie.

“Sorry, Ollie. Stuff.”

“You’ve never told me what he did.”

“He wanted heterosexual, toxic machismo and got a swarmy, emotional bisexual.”

“You’re not that emotional.”

“He took care of that,” he said darkly. “I used to cry when he went after mami. That turned his attention to me.”

Carmen knew there was nothing she could say, so instead she silently took his hand, squeezing softly. He was taken aback at first, but he kept her hand loosely in his as his head lulled against the headrest. It was strangely grounding, the physical affection. He’d felt like he was swimming the last few days as memories of his father, his father’s death, his childhood, and each case he tried bubbled up. That wasn’t including the vision of baby drew and Maggie in the hospital room that lingered everywhere. 

The conflicting guilt and conviction he’d done the right thing also broke a damn and the feelings he’d suppressed- loneliness, guilt, abandonment, distrust- were all bubbling to the surface. He’d spent so much of his life trying not to process them so he could focus on a conviction rate and moving forward that he didn’t have the tools everyone else did sometimes. Right now, Carmen felt like an anchor, and he was grateful for her. 

He got out of the car when Carmen parked, ordering enough food for three adults, one take out container containing whatever he thought a toddler could handle. Soon enough, they were settled in his living room and eating, though Ollie had minimal interest in the pork, beans, and rice in front of him. The thought crossed his mind that when he took one of the out of state jobs, he wouldn’t have Carmen there like this. He was sure this friendship would be short lived; when he didn’t need her anymore, she’d leave him. That’s what usually happened, wasn’t it? She just felt bad for him.

“I’m moving to Iowa,” he blurted out before he was able to spiral into the self loathing he’d recently discovered.

“That’s far,” she said, and he thought he could detect sadness in her voice.

“There’s FaceTime.”

“Not quite the same, but I’ll take it.”

“Tripp understands,” he said, sobering up as the food hit his stomach. “He lost a sister. Watched someone dying like with my dad except she’d been born that way. It was years, Carmen.”

“That’s a lot. I’m going to miss you, Rafael. Ollie will too.”

“Come visit. If the tickets are bad, I’ll pay. Or cover renting a car.”

“You’re drunk,” she chuckled. 

“Sorry. Best friend. It’s the rules.”

“We’ll come. But I can afford tickets.” 

“Promise if it’ll make things tight, you’ll let me. You’re raising a kid. No kids means I can afford to get my friend the occasional plane ticket.”

“Deal.”

“Next week, will it be Des Moines or prison? Who knows! I’ll probably grow a beard either way. Think they’d recognize me in prison if I grow a beard?” 

“I’ve never seen you with a beard. Stop shaving and we’ll find out.”

She could see Rafael getting tired, head leaning back against the couch and closing his eyes. She preferred when he joked about all of this. They were stuck waiting, and this time the next night they’d probably know. Ollie climbed between them on the couch, and she realized her boss wasn’t the only one almost asleep. 

“You two can stay,” Rafael yawned, hand smoothing Ollie’s curls back. 

“You’re sure?”

“Yeah. It’ll be nice not being alone in the morning. And you can stay here to work. We didn’t talk about it, but I know you hate Stone. He’s a good attorney. Doing his job.”

“His job is wrong.”

“That isn’t his fault. If another ADA had done what I did? I’d be prosecuting them.”

“Go get ready for bed,” she chuckled, rolling her eyes. As she scooped Ollie up, she kissed the top of Rafael’s head. “We’ll see you in the morning.”

“Carmen?” She turned in the doorframe. “Thank you. For all of this.”

“I’m glad to, Raf. Promise you’ll actually sleep.”

“I promise.”

“Night, Barba,” Ollie yawned, waving over his mom’s shoulder as they entered his guest room. Maybe Iowa was going to be too far if he didn’t go to prison. He was getting quite fond of having Carmen around quite quickly. He wasn’t going to be her superior anymore, so this friendship could be something he maintained. 

Olivia would be a given; even if they were primarily united around work, she was also one of his closest friends and maybe not working together would make him relax. Hell, maybe the end of his life in the city would do it. Rafael couldn’t remember a time he hadn’t felt he was chasing an upward trajectory in New York City. Even at Harvard, the plan had been to return. Maybe coming into Des Moines established would let him feel comfortable just existing. 

He liked cooking and reading in the park and going out dancing on occasion. He rarely had time for two options, and the latter made his cheeks red with embarrassment at the prospect of a colleague seeing him during the outing. In Iowa, maybe he could go dancing and take up a new hobby and wear jeans without feeling like something was out of his control. 

He woke up before Carmen, excited to be able to cook for her. He appreciated the fact she was happy to help him, but she had paused her own life for the last few days. Their friendship was relegated to offices and dinners by the office. He’d come to her baby shower and birthday parties and even a holiday party, but that was it and that had other colleagues present. Except maybe the baby shower, but he was determined to buy up whatever was left on her registry when the day came, using mami, abuelita, and the older women at church as pseudonyms to pretend he’d just let family know. 

“You can cook?”

“I just never had time,” he shrugged, tray coming out of the oven.

“You made pastries?” 

“Pastelitos de guayaba.” Carmen didn’t miss how proud he looked as he admired them. They were something he’d always made with family. “They aren’t hard, but abuelita used to make them for me all the time. Puff pastry, sweetened cream cheese and guava paste. Cafe con leche on the way.”

“You couldn’t sleep?” He shook his head, pouring the espresso and adding the milk before placing mugs at the breakfast counter. His mouth was set in a line now, the corners sucked in as he focused on the countertop. Her hand rested on his, giving a squeeze and he rewarded her with a soft smile. “We’ll be helping you pack for Iowa in no time.”

“I hope,” he nodded, biting into a pastry. Ollie came out, eyeing the countertop. “Want one, Oliver?”

“What are they?”

“Delicious,” Carmen groaned, having torn into her own. That was enough for Ollie, who accepted a pastry from Rafael with a soft Thank you before biting into it carefully.

“Wow! It is good!”

“I’m glad you like it.”

It felt a somber affair, despite the pastries, when Carmen saw him off to court. She chose to wait in his apartment, ringer on high and news coverage on. Ollie was easily entertained by the toys she had in the car, and the phones were forwarded to be answerable on her cell phone. By the end of the day, she’d put dinner in his slow cooker and cleaned most everything at least once. And then her phone rang with his ringer. She’d picked one of the other presets for him long ago, and she watched Ollie with his blocks as she answered.

“Rafael?”

“Not guilty,” he exhaled, still unable to believe it as he surveyed his office to begin packing. Her desk was empty, and he didn’t mind today because if she had been here, McCoy would’ve had her helping Stone. Carmen was his assistant, his friend, and it was bad enough to know Stone would probably take his place at work.

“Thank God,” she whispered. “Did you turn the letter in?”

“I put it on Jack’s desk. I’m hoping to be gone buy his return. I think three heavy boxes will cover it. Plus anything I hung, but other than diplomas most of it came with the place.”

“I put dinner on. Ollie and I ran to the store and picked up short ribs and potatoes and carrots. I needed something to do.”

“Nervous you’d be visiting me in prison?”

“You know damn well juries can be swayed. You’ve done it.”

“And I’m safe. I’ll be there in a couple of hours, okay?”

“Okay,” she said softly. “I’m really glad you get to go to Iowa.”

[subrapture]

It appears it's time to post this again, for the newcomers and the curious.

THE OLD GUARD, HISTORY, ORIGINS AND TRADITIONS.

By Guy Baldwin M.S.

Guy Baldwin, M.S. a Los Angeles psychotherapist, served as International Mr. Leather and Mr. National Leather Association during 1989-90

While reading a recent interview with Brian Dawson, I came across some of his comments about that '0ld Guard' In the leather lifestyle. Although I used that label in a piece I wrote almost three years ago, I only recently realized that there was a strong likelihood that large numbers of leather guys don't quite know for sure what the phrase, '0ld Guard' really means. I'm sure that I have never seen a description of the style (and it is a style, so I want to offer one now. I have carried my own '0ld Guard' card in my wallet right next to my Selective Service Registration card (draft card) for long enough that I probably qualify to offer what follows so, here goes...

First, a bit of historical perspective will be more helpful than you might guess. '0ld Guard' is really a misnomer - a misapplied name - for the earliest set of habits that jelled by the mid- to late 1950s in the men's leather community here in the U . S. It is very important to remember that the modern leather scene as we now know it first formalized itself out of the group of men who were soldiers returning home after World War ll. (l939-1945).

For many gay men of that era, their World War ll. military service was their first homosocial experience (first time being thrown together mostly in the company of other men for significant lengths of time), their first time away from their growing up places, and their first experience of male bonding during periods of high stress. War was (and is) serious business; people died, buddies depended on each other for their lives, and the chips were down. Discipline was the order of the day, and the nation believed that only discipline and dedication would win the war and champion freedom: (Ever notice the especially strong patriotic feelings that happen at leather events?)

Anyway, these gay war veterans learned about the value and pleasure of discipline and hard work in the achievement of a noble purpose. They also learned how to play hard when they got the chance for leave time. Indeed, military life during wartime was (and is) a mix of emotional extremes born out of sure knowledge that one could literally be 'here today, and gone tomorrow. ' Lastly (for these purposes), the gay vets had the secret knowledge that they fought and served every bit as well as straight soldiers, and this information strengthened their self-esteem. All of these things came to be associated with the disciplined, military way of life as it existed during the wartime years.

Although not all gay men of that time served in the military, those who didn't were exposed to the military attitudes through their contact with the vast numbers of military men who were everywhere to be seen and cruised both during and immediately after the war years. In any case, all these things greatly influenced the shape of masculine gay sexualities. Mars

Upon their return to the States about 1946, many of the gay vets wanted to retain the most satisfying elements of their military experience and, at the same time, hang out socially and sexually with other masculine gay men. They found that only in the swashbuckling motorcycle culture did such opportunities exist and so the gay bike clubs were born. It was here that they found the combination of easy camaraderie, the stress and thrill of real risk taking (the riding), and the masculine sexuality that they had known during their military days.

Since one can tell who is and is not in the military only when uniforms are worn, these gay men unconsciously (in most cases) transferred their loyalties to their own uniform-the leather gear of bike riders with a few paramilitary touches thrown in. Club insignia often recalled hose insignia of special military units: Thunderbolts, Warriors, Blue Max, and Iron Cross to name only a few. Club members would exchange their insignia with members of other clubs in friendship; christening rituals were transferred from tanks, ships and airplanes to motorcycles and piss was substituted for champagne; the military dress uniform hats became the leather bike caps-all these elements were just as had been during military service.

Incidentally, during the war, the soldiers would often put on skits for their own amusement. Since women were not allowed at the front, some of the men would play the parts of women by doing a kind of mock dress-up (as in one scene from 'South Pacific'). Later, this tradition would be expressed in 'drag' shows during bike runs. So, masculine men pretended to be pretending to be women-not truly 'drag' at all. (lt. still happens in a few places.)

In any case, being in the military also meant following lots of rules. And just as in the military, there were (unspoken) rules about what you did and did not wear, how you handled your personal affairs, who you could and could not socialize with and more. All this was overlaid with a kind of ritual formalism just as in the military. Those men who were really into dominance and submission, SM, or leather sex tended to take these rules rather more seriously than those guys who simply thought of themselves as butch. The butch ones wore just enough leather to be practical when riding, and those into the exotic sexualities tended to wear more gear than necessary to signal this fact about themselves, but they all hung out together in the same settings. As you might guess, in some cases, any particular person might be into both riding and the exotic sexualities.

Just as an aside here, before and during the war, kinky folks seeking to identify each other would sometimes defensively ask, 'Do you play the mandolin or the saxophone?' to discover which of them was the masochist or the sadist by the first letter of these instruments. All this while wearing street clothes! The creation of a butch subculture by the gay vets began to allow people to specialize their sexual interests in a way that had been impossible earlier. Prior to this development. it was not apparent that there were very many ways to be gay.

The bike clubs and the bars where they hung out became the magnets of their day which attracted those gay men who were interested in the masculine end of the gay spectrum, but it was the leather men who defined the masculine extreme at that time. (Nowadays, we know there are many ways to be masculine.) This meant that those who had an inclination to kinky action pretty much felt compelled to explore kink in the context of the leather SM scene since it was the only game in town. If motorcycle riding or black leather itself was not 'your thing', that meant one felt obligated to visit the hang outs and look and act the part as much as possible to find one's way into the inner circle of those who looked like they knew something about the exotic sexualities. This meant finding out what the rules of inclusion were (how can I be included?) in order to gain access. To some extent, all this is still true because the attitude still prevails that the 'uniform'' indicates experience and social access to the Knowledgeable People.

And so, the Scene became EX-clusive rather than IN-clusive, meaning that the people in the Scene understood the rules and tried to keep outsiders out-to exclude them. An outsider became defined as anyone (butch or not) who did not have a primary interest in and experience with the exotic sexualities or at least an interest in motorcycles. (This excluding attitude was probably also reinforced by guilt about being kinky.)

I know that this combination of kinky men mixed in with motorcycle riders may sound a bit odd now, but that's how the Scene worked and, to some slight extent, still does. All through the 80's, with the emergence of kinky organizations and specifically leather/SM events, the motorcycle riding community and the kinky leather community have grown apart such that now those in one group are pretty much ignorant of or indifferent to the events happening in the other.

This growing separation is more true in larger cities which have the numbers of people that are necessary to support each of these two communities, each with separate needs and agendas. Consequently, many old and venerable bike clubs have experienced a drop in membership and some have disbanded altogether.

But for the most part, kinky people have segregated themselves out from the riders as the process of erotic specialization has continued. Generally, the riding community seems not to have minded this development perhaps because many of the members of riding clubs are either turned off or embarrassed by the erotic visibility of the kinky crowd "Birds of a feather". But for this discussion, it is noteworthy that many of those kinky people retained the paramilitary trappings, manners and attitudes of that early, core group of returning World War ll. gay vets.

Most importantly, these features of the military mind-set joined with inky interests and became erotic in and of themselves became fetishes. These men then were the original '0ld Guard', and so it will come as no surprise that their quasi-military rules of inclusion and exclusion still influence kinky society today.

So what exactly were the (unspoken) "Old Guard' rules? Here are a few of the more important ones that had prevailed by 1970:

About Attire

Always wear boots, butch ones, and preferably black.

Always wear a wide black leather belt plain, not fancy.

Never mix brown leather with black leather.

Never mix chrome or silver trim with gold or brass trim.

Long pants only, Levi's or leather, and no shorts.

Chaps indicate more commitment than Levi's, and leather pants more commitment than chaps, especially when worn consistently.

Leather Jackets must have epaulets (bike riders excepted).

Head gear is reserved for Tops or experienced or heavy bottoms only.

Bottoms may not own collars unless a particular Top has allowed that bottom to be the custodian of the Top's collar. A bottom wearing a collar is a slave, and belongs to the owner of the collar who, presumably, has the keys. Other Tops are not to engage a collared bottom in conversation, but other bottoms may do so. Should such a relationship end, the collar must be returned to the Top.

Never touch the bill of a bike cap, including your own.

Never touch another man's cap (or head gear) unless you are very intimate friends or lovers.

Keep studs and other decorations to a tasteful minimum unless they happen to be club insignia.

Never wear another man's leather unless he puts it on you.

Leather, other than boots and belt, must be 'earned' through the achievement of successively challenging 'scenes.'

Wearing gloves is reserved for heavy players, glove fetishists or bike riders.

Always indicate SM preference, only with keys left or right.

If you are cruising seriously, wear the keys out; if not seriously, tuck them in a back pocket. Always indicate strictly leather sex or 'rough sex' interest by wearing no keys at all.

Those who 'switch' are second class players and not to be taken as seriously because they haven't made their minds up. If you must switch, do so in another town.

'Full' leather is reserved for after 10:00 P.M. only and only with 'our own kind'.

Respect the public by wearing less of it during the day--don't frighten old ladies (l did once by accident), or anyone else for that matter.

About Socializing and Cruising:

Experience in the Scene determines social seniority (Top or bottom) , not age, not size, not amount of leather worn, and not offices held in organizations, awards received or titles won.

Tops and experienced bottoms should be accorded higher respect and deference unless and until they behave rudely--all are expected to observe rules of social courtesy-bad manners are inexcusable and can lower one's status in the Scene (thereby reducing access to the Knowledgeable People for information or play),

Real Leathermen keep their word: they do not borrow or lend money; they conduct their affairs with honor and integrity-they don't lie.

Preliminary social contact should be on the formal side.

'Senior Persons' (Top or bottom) are not to be interrupted when in conversation.

Experience being equal, Tops lead the conversation.

Junior Tops defer to Senior Tops and Senior bottoms in social situations.

Junior bottoms defer to all others in the Scene but not to outsiders.

When walking together, bottoms walk half-a-step behind and to the left of Tops with whom they are involved or playing.

It is up to the Top or the experienced bottom to extend a hand to invite a handshake. (All touching is highly restricted during initial contact between strangers.) NEVER over-indulge in drugs or alcohol in public, or otherwise attract scornful attention to one's self--to do so brings dishonor on the men in the Scene,

Tops should always have the first two opportunities to make verbal or physical contact,

The more submissive one is, the less direct eye contact one makes-glance frequently at or stare at His boots only when cruising; less so in non-sexual conversation. The more dominant one is, the more direct the eye contact is unless there is no erotic interest (cruising only).

Men in the Scene do not discuss (or write about) the Scene with outsiders. All men in the Scene must be able to spot outsiders with the 'right stuff' and be ready to facilitate them into the Scene after they indicate sincere interest.

None of these rules are taught or explained to anyone except by innuendo, inference, or example.

Erotic technical information is only shared among peers.

Maintain formal and non-committal relationships with those outside the scene; avoid contact with feminine men. Women are not allowed although Senior People may occasionally have intellectual or brief social relationships with the occasional qualified kinky woman, but only in private.

Very few men maintained full compliance with all these rules all the time, and some, flatly refused to follow rules they personally objected to. But, to be included one was expected to follow at least most of these rules most of the time. Also, confusingly, there was some variation in some of the rules depending on what city you happened to be in at the time. The list above is not complete although it conveys the sense of the style.

Understandably, a certain stiffness surrounded the men who followed these rules, just as a certain stiffness surrounded the military men of the era. Those who sought inclusion had the challenge of finding a relaxed and easygoing way to follow rules. However, this required considerable social skill and many kinky people lacking those skills (or patience ) simply gave up and accepted a frustrated role on the fringe.

As time passed, there were more and more guys in their twenties whose early sexual development had not been influenced strongly by contact with the military. Therefore, they lacked the early raw material with which to fetish-ize the military features of the '0ld Guard' leather/SM scene. Still, they needed information and experiences to help shape the urges of insistent kinky longings.

These people were essentially without resources until the establishment of kinky organizations brought about new educational opportunities that were not bound by '0ld Guard' rules.

Consequently, there is a lot more support now for new people coming into the leather/ SM scene who have other ideas (non- military) about what is hot. Long hair, rockers with wild designs on their jackets, road racing bikers with brightly colored leathers, leather faeries, skinheads, women and others now are found on turf once dominated by the '0ld Guard' system'.

So, '0ld Early Guard' or perhaps thought of as 'Early Guard" or perhaps 'First Guard' because that style makes sense given the erotic influences that shaped the inner lives of the men who were coming of age sexually at that time. The Old Guard made some real contributions and made some real mistakes, and still does both.

It is more useful to understand than to criticize. And, perhaps most importantly, what the Old Guard did for the development and expansion of kinky life and butch gay male sexuality can best be appreciated against the backdrop of what had existed earlier--not much of anything!

But remember this, as long as we have a military, and a paramilitary police system, and as long as that military has traditions of initiation, ritual, inclusion/exclusion, honor and service, there will always be an '0ld Guard'. Its size and influence in the leather/SM scene will probably always be proportional to the role played by the military and other paramilitary organizations in society-larger following wartime and smaller during peace.

I thought maybe you'd like to know.

[komatsunana]

Hey could you please write a little meta of Hachi's character or link it if you've already written some? I just love her and your metas so much!

Thanks! I love Hachi sm too!! It was kind of shocking for me when I looked at my Masterlist to see what posts I already have for Hachi I didn’t find any solely on her.  Yikes! To be fair, there is a lot about her relationships with other characters as well as comparing parts of her character with Nana and sometimes Reira.

Anyway, this’ll just be a stream of consciousness meta.  Meaning anything I say might not be headed anywhere and no conclusive thought.

Hm, let’s see… Where to start?

Ai Yazawa’s works tend to place a lot of emphasis on fashion and styling - which of course it does, she did initially start in fashion.  In particular in NANA there’s a lot of representation of counterculture fashion - primarily with Mai in lolita and all of Blast too - not just wearing punk but 80′s and 90′s western punk and grunge style particularly in Yazawa’s choice to put them in a lot of Vivienne Westwood and bondage pants.  Yazawa’s styling choice really flavors these characters and tbh Hachi is no different.

Look at her! A fashion icon.

Now I’ll be honest and say that even though I’ve watched every episode and season of Project Runway I’ve learned virtually nothing about fashion history (lol) but look at all the vintage silhouettes!! I’m especially seeing western 60′s and 70′s here (some other decades as well, but especially those 2), with the mod dresses, 70′s wrap dress, kerchief scarves and bandannas, and the 5 strand pearl necklace.

Her choice and desire to work at Sabrina, a vintage store, just brings it all together.  I’d be SUPER interested in if someone else, with a better grasp on fashion history, would talk about her styling choices, because I think it says a lot more about her than any thoughts that I might have, especially if I wanted to take into account feminism and the history of it Japan in particular.

Fashion styles have varied through the years though and especially in the last century we can see where women’s rights effects the clothes than women wear in their decade.  The styles say lot about the goals and desires of the women of their time and I can’t help but feel that, at least on a meta-narrative level, it says something about Hachi for the decades she most often dresses in - especially that outside of the prologue, Hachi is rarely ever seen out of pants.  This choice for Hachi to always be wearing dresses and skirts really defines what Hachi’s definition it is to be a ‘woman’ in this manga that is about the friendship between two women - especially combined with her future as a mother and wife and often seen wearing an apron and then contrasted with Nana who dresses in punk and doesn’t want to be a mother.

Additionally, it really highlights that Hachi is a bit of an outsider herself, dressing outside her time at the start of a new millennium.  I can’t find exactly where I read it, but I do remember reading that Hachi herself didn’t really have any friends other than Jun in high school (in addition to her many crushes lol). Part of Hachi’s charm is that she is a normal girl with an ordinary life and is friendly with everyone she meets, but she’s also someone that isn’t friends with everyone, only with a select few - which is interesting that she so easily accepts Nana and the rest of the band into her life.

It might be a little bit because of her being a middle child, but there is a lot of emphasis that she had a happy childhood and family in the series, so it’s more likely that this part of Hachi is something that is entirely her and for no deep rooted reason, but ordinary human loneliness and the desire to be seen and loved as special by someone who is special.  Perhaps it’s her ordinary, happy life that she’s rebelling from - she’s ordinary and everyone she loves in extraordiary compared to her. From all her high school crushes (all having the mystique of being older), Junko (independent and self-processed with goals from a young age), Nana (beautiful rock star), and Black Stones and Trapnest in general for their talents, Hachi looks to them hoping to be seen as special in return.

Hachi is a woman of contrary things - she’s seen as needy, cries and gives up easily, struggles to hold down a job, and in the start of the series, she struggles to accept responsibility for her behavior, instead blaming a fictional demon lord on everything that goes wrong in her life.

And yet in the big moments, Hachi is able to do hard things all on her own.  From helping out Sachiko when she cut herself to spray painting mean graffiti about Nana to tracking down Nana’s mom to volunteering to do an interview with the press so they wouldn’t hound Nana, Hachi steps up and does what needs to be done to protect those who she loves.  Hachi really transforms from the start of the series, when she blamed everything on the Demon Lord, to being a hero that gives Nana rescue breaths when she needs it.

Another interesting part of Hachi’s character is her interest in movies that we’ve seen from the very first prologue. She prefers to see them alone - another interesting juxtaposition of hers since she is someone that feels so lonely and craves companionship and comfort.  There are only 3 movies that I can remember Hachi mentioning seeing and all of the are western movies.  Sid and Nancy, which she tells Nana that she watched early on.  Additionally her calendar in November marks down when a Harry Potter movie came to theaters as well as Amelie (a French film).  Her movie preferences are really interesting, other than Harry Potter, suggesting her passion in watching foreign movies and not necessarily what’s the most popular movie.

... Idk I’m losing my train of thought lol.  I’m sorry this was such a messy meta, but I think I’ll leave off there for now.  In the future, I love getting meta prompts and it does help me, particularly with main characters, to get a specific narrative aspect you’re interested in hearing my thoughts on.

Also I’m serious that if anyone else is a better fashion history buff I’d be really interested in reading about Hachi’s vintage fashion in more and better depth!!

[light-of-being]

My ideal worlds do not account for me.

At least, yet.

Which is to say, all of the things that I imagine being best for the world at large are things I, personally, would probably hate to live in. I’m ashamed to admit it sometimes but I strongly prefer some of the things that occur in the current world, even if I can recognise their general flaws.

I’ve long admitted that although there don’t seem to be many places in the world that are suited to my favorable existence, I do fare really well in academic spaces. I know that things like social learning are important and useful to most people, that the students around me would benefit greatly from increased support, that lectures being interactive and all the flipped classroom shit is beneficial in general...but it sounds absolutely godawful for me. I greatly appreciate detachment and alienation from my educators and fellow students. I like working on my own and having to figure out my own shit. I abhor any form of compulsory engagement because I do shit in my own ways and they work for me, although others may not have those ways as well developed yet.

I was part of a reading group on decolonising mathematics and mathematics education more particularly, and these issues were raised, and I was slightly embarrassed to admit that actually, this was one of the main reasons I was especially drawn to the discipline -- I like the isolated nature of it, the approach followed at the moment...that I’d hate it and be lost if things were any other way. One of my lecturers this semester stopped me when I was leaving a tutorial session midway, to ask where I was going. She also made efforts to learn each student’s name and check in on us periodically. She’s a great lecturer otherwise, but I actively avoided her lessons and even took the risk of failing the course by not attending any more of the “compulsory” tutorial sessions ever since.

I like writing essays and doing assignments. I enjoy tests and exams and do exceptionally well at them compared to other more weird forms of assessment. School was stupid and boring, but even now, I appreciate the structure of the environment. Without clearly defined objectives and the threat of homelessness breathing down my back, I may learn a shitton of unrelated things, but I will never get anywhere significant.

But this is of course broader than just academia; I’m talking about the world, after all. Communities are beneficial to people. Involvement, social bonds, taking care of each other seems like an overall gain for society, and the status quo causes a lot of damage by way of alienation etc etc...except that those things have no value in my life. I would hate to be involved in a community and known by people around me. I don’t want anyone caring about me and I sure as hell don’t want to care about anyone (in particular. I’ll care about abstract Person). I left my university residence largely because there was too much of this. And even there, I know that there are people suffering in silence and checking in on each other is better overall than not doing so -- plenty of people end up in mental health crises already even after all of this intervening...but I don’t want to be checked in on. I value my independence in a way that almost nobody else I know does. I find “care” to be intrusive and unwelcome most of the time.

Here’s the thing though -- I don’t merely have some cognitive idea that these worlds ‘would’ be better. I’m willing and even passionate to work towards building a reality that would be, for me, horrible. Which doesn’t seem like something anyone else does. I’m not 100% comfortable with it, of course -- mostly because there are surely others like me (schizoids, primarily) and a truly ideal world would be as welcoming to us as to the majority. But resources are limited and it doesn’t seem feasible to create parallel streams (the only way i can see that working) for such a small bunch. Moreover, I cannot imagine a theoretical world even, that I would actually desire to live in. So it is not much we’d gain...and some sacrifice is probably better if the rest of everyone would actually be benefiting actively. But that’s not all there is to this...

It once dawned on me in a first year philosophy class that friendship/family to a great extent involves placing a higher moral priority on a certain selection of people. That idea never really sat right with me, that I should save my mother’s life over a stranger’s (or even several) because she is my mother and so should rank higher in my weighting...but surely near-everyone is important to someone and the impact would be comparable to that person. Why should it matter that I happen to be the one in a situation to do the saving? Why should that mean people I like weigh more? Why should I factor into this decision at all? (I was watching the Harry Potter movies for the first time earlier, and the message of friendship seems a little bit pathetic.)

And I think the actual main factor here is that I don’t, in general, factor myself into decisions about what’s good for the world. I grant myself a vanishing role and priority, equal to or less than that of any other randomly selected individual. Which appears to be something of an anomaly in reasoning; I think others place themselves much more front and centre. I don’t exist as me at all in my models. Agents do, with interests, and I may or may not be any one of them.

And while this makes sense to me, it does not seem to be what others do, and I cannot adequately explain their actions, my own, nor the discrepancies between them. The best I can do is appeal to schizoid processes, but I’m not sure those suffice.

[rebeccaueditor]

Flanelle Magazine - Unity Issue #22 Interview: Rebecca U Photos: Eva Al Desnudo Eva Losada a.k.a. @Eva.Al.Desnudo, Highsnobiety and SHOWstudio contributor, the British Fashion Awards’, ‘New Wave: creatives’ nominee, and global fashion week voyager, who has worked with Loewe, Yohji Yamamoto and Adidas Y-3, discusses quitting your day job, and the creativity displayed in backstage coverage. Before Eva Al Desnudo, your professional work history started with another profession, poles apart from what you do today. Detail the transition from working as a food safety auditor up until this point. I have always loved fashion and photography, I used to draw up designs when I was a teen and have always been taking photos for fun, but during that time in Spain, it was difficult to make a living with my interests, so I decided to study ‘Food Science and Technology’ and ‘Engineering’. The stories of my aunty living in London in the 80’s inspired me to move here. In London, I took up some courses in styling and started to go to London’s Fashion Weeks’ to feel the atmosphere. I brought my camera along to take some photos for fun, I was super shy in the beginning. Soon after starting, a magazine from London contacted me through Instagram, asking if they could publish my images. I was surprised, this was when I realised I wanted to do this more, as many people were telling me my photos were good. The season after, I was covering London Fashion Week street style for Bullett magazine (NYC) and L’Officiel Manila. Using the holidays from my day job, I decided to go to Paris Fashion Week. Quite soon after that, a season later, I found myself working for Highsnobiety magazine, who I am still a regular contributor to. They believed in me since the very beginning, I will always be thankful for their support. It was becoming more challenging to use my holidays from my day job as a food auditor to travel to NYC, London and Paris. Quite soon into my career, I was confirmed to work with Highsnobiety on a regular basis to cover all the fashion weeks for them, this opportunity did not make me think twice about quitting my day job. How do you define backstage photography?

Backstage, you are shooting models, the incredible styling and makeup is already there for you to capture, sometimes, especially smaller brands, photographers can have more freedom to move around and you can create amazing editorial like images. I love to play with the resources available, be the most creative as possible and challenge myself. I usually shoot backstage without a flash as I like to play with shadows and the existing light on location, which sometimes can be a bit difficult, but always fun. Backstage, many people are working at the same time, with just a few minutes to have everything perfect, makeup, hair, styling, photographers, all this is happening, usually in a tiny space, which can also be challenging. When I’m selecting a photographer for backstage, I consider their skill, style and demeanour. How much importance is placed on these points of consideration?

I think it is very important, if you compare the same backstage coverage from various photographers, you can see the difference. In a small environment, with the same models, you cannot imagine the numerous styles of backstage coverage which could result from the shared situation, this is also the beautiful part of it. Some people shoot with flash, others use natural light, I like to shoot moody images, with strong shadows. Some photographers request the models to act natural, others want them to pose in a more traditional way, some others may ask them to smile, to be serious or moody. I love seeing the different perspectives and styles from photographers who are shooting the same subject and environment.

What personal rules do you follow when you're shooting in an environment where a million-and-one things are going on behind-the-scenes?

I do not follow rules; I just follow my eye, as you said, a million things are happening so you need to be ‘awake’ to capture the right moment, you have to be fast and alert. I love to shoot the models getting their last details done in the line-up, as this is more natural, I also play around with the varied backgrounds available to capture different angles and scenes, on the other hand, it’s great when the brands set up an area for first looks with a clear background and good lighting, the result looks like an editorial shot in a studio. You travel six months a year to shoot globally, besides London and Spain, where else in the world would you call home?

Definitely Tokyo, I can say this is the only city I feel very sad when leaving. I love the city, the best part is the people there, I am lucky to have a group of friends who take me out every day to the most amazing performances, parties and dinners, so the city definitely feels like home. I think the meaning of friendship is very similar to the Mediterranean one, so many times I feel more at home in Japan than in London. NYC is a bit the same, people are very friendly and they are open to meeting new people.

The experiences of shooting an editorial in Tokyo must be quite different to shooting in the United Kingdom or Europe.  How does production and team coordination differ between countries or continents?

It is different, although recently with the spike in globalisation, access to social media and people often moving from place to place, the teams are made up of people from all over the world. I love shooting editorials in Tokyo, especially on location, Tokyo has so much to offer. I think production and coordination is similar to other countries due to the reason I stated before, the differences you can find are in the things which are external, for example, requesting permission to shoot, dealing with model agencies, lighting and rental places. The first barrier is the language, it is always helpful to work with a local to set up the shoot, also, the process in Tokyo can take a bit longer compared to London or NYC. What is the future of Fashion Week? Do you foresee any changes in the way it runs?

This is a very common conversation nowadays, everybody, brands, press, buyers are talking about it, trying new ways of showing collections, some doing ‘co-ed’ shows, as nowadays, it does not make much sense to do separate shows, also, some people are using technology to show their collections. Every season, more and more brands are moving to Paris, it feels condensed in the city. I still think the shows are the most beautiful experiences, the music, the lights, to view the clothes in full motion, digital does not feel the same to me, plus, we have to admit, we all love going to fashion week, the travel, dinners, and parties, are things which are hard not to love. If we think about the impact of fashion week, which occurs four times a year, in many cities, questions about whether it is sustainable do arise. I personally think this ultra fast fashion we have nowadays is going to have to slow down, we are constantly overexposed to new content every day. We are not able to fully appreciate it. There are some designers who have six collections a year, the question is, do we really need that many? The last few years you see people in the industry working towards sustainable production, the topic of ‘upcycling’ has become a common subject during fashion week.

The reality of a photographer trying to make their bread and butter from this kind of work, any insight you would like to share?

The last few years have seen a huge rise in people taking up photography, it has gotten to a point where people are working for free or for very little money, the pay doesn't even cover travel expenses, the acceptance of this is causing the business to go down. Season after season, I always have a bunch of publications asking me to ‘work’ for them, they want you to shoot five to six shows a day, by the end of our conversation, I discover there is no budget or they offer something so little which does not allow you to earn any money after expenses. The problem is that there are so many people out there available to shoot for free who are just looking for an Instagram tag from a big publication, hoping this would eventually make a living for them sometime in the future, usually, this is not the case, if you do not give yourself value, nobody else will. A couple of years ago, we created the “No Free Photos” movement, to try to fight this situation, if people continue to accept work free of charge or for a low rate, it is going to be impossible to better the situation for photographers.

Street style is no longer your focus, what encouraged the transition? Street style has changed a lot, before we used to have the ‘unwritten rules for street style’, we used to respect each other by allowing space for others to shoot, not jumping on somebody else’s photo. Respect is now lost, the number of photographers outside the shows had increased by 80%, it was becoming too difficult to capture clean and candid images. In the past, everything was more natural, with the rise of influencers, this natural element has been lost, the people who are paid to dress head to toe in one brand lowered my interest in street style. I also started gaining more jobs in editorial, campaign and backstage shoots, which is what I am currently focused on.

My first exposure to street style snaps was through The Face, i-D's 1980's 'Straight Up' and FRUiTS magazine. Who are your favourite photographers and/or coverage?

I think street style coverage like FRUiTS is very interesting, street style in Japan is still one of my favourites as people really dress like this on a day-to-day basis, they are very creative, they use a lot of vintage garments, transform them, customise them to create very individual, unique looks. It is probably one of the very few places that do not follow the masses in regards to fashion. I admire Nick Knight, Araki, Irving Penn, Diane Arbush and Tim Walker, they are all very different, these artists are a continuous source of inspiration for me, as well as movies.

Who is Eva.Al.Desnudo today? What are you focused on in the year 2020 and onwards?

I am now a more mature me at work, I know what I want, and what I do not want, I am working hard to achieve the direction I am currently aiming for, I plan for big changes this year. I am very focused on editorial and campaign work with brands and magazines, as well as workshops, like the one I had recently done for Apple, I will also continue doing backstage during all the global Fashion Weeks I attend.  

[southparksecretsanta]

"Coffee Shop Christmas"

Secret Santa gift for introvertedPoindexter! Hope you enjoy it!

edit by the mod: I’m going to leave the fanfic under the cut since it’s sorta long, @introvertedpoindexter

Tweek’s coffee shop is the best place for parties. And since the holidays are around once more, Tweek’s gonna be the person who’s hosting the party as always. It always goes well and every kid he invites would love the atmosphere, free drinks and fun that the coffee shop offers on Christmas. Last year, it was booming with some of his close pals and Craig, or rather only Team Craig that experienced the fun. Team Stan also enjoyed the party two years ago, but Tweek is thinking of a different mix of kids who’ll attend this year’s coffee shop Christmas. They can be from either teams, too. With that in mind, he sent some invites. The first invite goes to Pip, which he’ll surely appreciate because he loved the tea Tweek serves in the shop. It tasted heavenly for him and he wouldn’t mind drinking more of it. Tweak Bros recently got a Christmas tea pack for him to try out and Tweek’s gonna make sure that Pip will get to try it on the party. He also sent out invites to Kyle and Kenny. They are just as excited as well and they’re already in the process of getting ready for it. Though, knowing that his parents are going to leave the house again Kyle has to take care of Ike on the same day as the party and its the same thing for Kenny where he has to bring Karen along because his parents are gonna do something together as well. Luckily, Tweek doesn’t mind if they bring the little siblings along. Karen and Tweek get along so well and Ike loves the food in the shop. Butters got an invite too. He sure was excited because last year, this bailed him out from being grounded when Tweek fetched him last year on the same party. Having him around makes things more fun, even if Butters doesn’t party too hard that often. He also likes hanging out with the other kids, especially Kenny who he still has a crush on. The last but most important invite goes to Craig. He wanted to save this one personally because of the fact that Craig’s his boyfriend. He would really appreciate a VIP invite which is why Tweek is making one just for him right now. Craig’s going to be super excited about this along with the fact that he can bring Tricia over when he wants as well! With the invites done, Tweek prepares to decorate the coffee shop like always. He decided to keep it in the same theme every year since its Christmas mostly on when the party is held. Though, the decors change so its not the same arrangement every year. Tweek is now doing his best to get the shop ready for the party and to impress the kids he invited. It took him a few weeks with the help of his parents (who are onboard for the parties since they own the place and love the idea) who carried the heavy stuff like the Christmas tree and the star-like lanterns around the shop to hang outside for the extra festive feel. A few weeks later, the shop is ready. Tweek has a few days to check the place before Christmas, the same time the party will start. The coffee shop will close on that day as well to keep it exclusive for Tweek and his friends that day. It will start on 5 PM afternoon on that date so Tweek has to get moving and ensure the shop is really ready for a party. Tweek inspected the entire party area which is the dining area for the customers and the room where the coffee and stuff are made. He has to restrict access to it as always so no one would get hurt in that room. The remaining days have passed and now the party will start today. Tweek got his guest list in hopes that the people he sent the invites to will join in. He waits patiently at the entrance of the shop, with it being temporarily closed as requested from the public except the kids Tweek invited over. He’s hoping someone would pass by. A few minutes later after 5 PM in the same day, Kenny and Karen arrived together first. Kenny wanted to bring his little sister over and Tweek didn’t really mind at all! Karen was so excited to come to the party that she had to hug Tweek first as a sign of thanks for inviting her indirectly. Kenny always trusts Tweek to take care of Karen too so this is why the two got along very well. Tweek is pretty much like Karen’s second precious big bro here too. “Tweek, has the party started?” “Just right now, Kenny! Its great you brought Karen along too.” “Well, my parents are gonna mess things up again so I thought its safer for her to be with us than stay home. Kevin’s not really going either.” “Its fine, Kenny! Go help yourself for now, I’m waiting for the others.” “Thank you so much for letting me join, Tweek! I never went to your parties before but it sounded so fun from my brother when he told me about it!” “Hehe, you’re welcome! I did want to invite you last year but Kenny said you’re not available that time.” “Yeah, I think you remember why Tweek.” “The whole foster family thing? Agh..” “Yep. We didn’t expect to go there again but me and Karen are under a better foster family than last time. After Christmas we went home. Its a wild but fun ride.” “They even hosted a cool party too, Kenny! I love parties a lot so I’d love to see this one for sure!” “I’m excited to have you both here you guys. Go get yourselves something to eat inside, I’ll wait for the others.” Karen and Kenny nodded, and they both went in. Kenny saw the food prepared for the party and it was just as delicious as last time he came over. He decided to share some of it with Karen while waiting. As expected, Karen loved the food because it was just as what Kenny described it to her that Tweek’s treats are very tasty and delicious. Karen enjoyed trying out the food for sure and Kenny’s glad she loves it. Later on, Kyle and Ike arrive afterwards. Kyle got his same festive outfit for last year and since they needed to hang out somewhere this Christmas, Tweek’s party is the perfect place to go to. He enjoyed the party last year, and it was also culture-friendly. Tweek respects Kyle’s interests and this is why they get along so well together. “Tweek, are we late?” “No, Kyle! Y-you just made it!” “Sweet, thanks Tweek! Oh yeah, Ike’s here too. Say hi, Ike!” “Hello, Tweek!” (Ike is happy today) “Hehe, nice to see you too, Ike. I made sure to add some special decor for you too, like always.” “That’s sweet, Tweek! I always appreciate it a lot so thank you! I think I should invite you over to my house sometime.” “I’d love to come over that time, Kyle.” “Yeah, we’d have a lot of fun there dude. We’ll wait for the rest of the guys inside for now.” “Sure thing, go right ahead Kyle!” Kyle and Ike proceeded inside the shop. They both bump into Kenny and Karen immediately with Kyle talking to Kenny about random stuff. Karen also gets to play with Ike as well as they loved to play games with each other. Karen asks Ike not to go too extreme and break anything because she knows how hard Tweek worked just for the party and she doesn’t want Tweek to feel sad afterwards. This is how she cares for him. Ike nods and makes sure to be careful. Kenny and Kyle love to catch up on things together. Every conversation they had would involve their adventures and next to Stan, Kenny is someone Kyle trusts a lot, too. Recently Kyle is chatting about Kenny on the last party they had on here. It was really fun and its great that the little siblings are going to experience it too. From Kenny, its the first time for Karen. Same could be said for Ike as they watch the two play around the shop happily without breaking anything Tweek worked hard for. Some time later, Butters and Pip arrive together. Butters bumped Pip along the way before arriving to Tweak Bros. Coffee. “Oh, sorry Pip, I didn’t see you there buddy.” “Its okay, ol’ chap. You’re going to Tweek’s?” “Yeah, he invited me over! Did you get an invite too?” “Yep! I love Tweek’s selection of teas and I never got to visit his store in special occasion till now.” “That’s great, Pip! You’ll love Tweek’s parties, they are so fun!” “Really? I will take your word for it chap. If he makes great tea then I’ll believe you, Butters.” “Oh, um.. Pip, if you want we can go together.” “Well, that sounds like a good idea Butters! Its best I do this, I don’t want to get lost.” “Its fine, Pip. We’re just good pals doing a little stroll!” “I like the sound of that Butters.” Pip and Butters then decided to go as a pair so they don’t have to worry about getting lost if they are making their way to Tweak Bros. Coffee. They got along during the way and their friendship started to grow as well. Tweek was confused to why they were as a pair when they arrived, but in reality they just bumped into each other. “Hey you two. You both made it!” “Gee whiz, thanks Tweek! I’m always looking forward to your parties!” “Hehe, thank you Butters! And hello Pip! I know you love the tea here.” “Right-o, ol’ chap Tweek! I hear you’re also using them as drinks on this here’s lovely party right?” “Yep, all yours dude!” “Thank you so much, Tweek. I always love your tea offers.” “I’d love to try some tea too, but I’m more of the milk tea person kinda guy, haha.” “Its fine Butters. We have milk tea as well!” “Oh gosh darn really? That sounds awesome Tweek, thank you!” “I’ll proceed ahead to try out more of your tea, Tweek. Butters, are you coming?” “Yeah of course, Pip!” “Go right inside you two!” Tweek allows Pip and Butters to enter the shop and join the fun! They both bond over tea as Butters gets his milk tea and Pip gets to try all the new flavors Tweek has in store for him. They both enjoy the company and the drinks together with the fact they later talk with Kyle and Kenny as well to bond happily and play games with. There is one more guest though, its none other than his boyfriend Craig. He may be the last one but as they say, the last ones are the best. Tweek waited patiently for his VIP boyfriend to arrive and join the party with him. Tweek is starting to get worried but sooner or later, he sees a figure in the distance who is actually Craig! Craig heads on over with Tricia to Tweek’s. He has to apologize to Tweek to why he’s late though, but Tweek’s gonna understand after all. “Tweek? I’m sorry I got late dude.” “Its fine, Craig! I’m glad you made it in the end! You only got late for like, 30 minutes dude.” “Oh really? I thought I missed the party because Tricia made me do a stopover!” “Oh fuck off Craig, I needed to take the bathroom!” “And you waited in there for like fifteen minutes.” “Is it wrong for me to pee? I drank so much water that I can’t hold it on the way!” “Its fine, its fine, Tricia. You don’t have to be so down. Potty breaks are common you know.” “At least your boyfriend cares, jerk.” “Hey! I care too.” “Yeah, I can totally see that, Craig. Just don’t piss me off like that okay?” “I don’t know if I can promise that.” “Okay fine. What about we all get along here? You said this is a special party so I want the both of us to enjoy it. Right, Tweek?” “I can agree to that, Tricia. What about you, Craig?” “Sure. Besides, I don’t like the idea of us fighting over potty breaks.” “That’s great! Come on in, the party’s starting!” Craig and Tricia took the VIP seats for them but they still love to party with the others. Immediately, Tricia met Karen and they played together. Karen told Tricia the same thing with Ike, but Tricia knows how close she is with Tweek as a supporter and a good friend. She also liked Tweek because he’s more understandable than her own brother Craig. Still, Tricia does like Craig as a brother at times. With everyone on board, Tweek signals the go for everyone to start partying as he locks the coffee shop door. After that, everyone partied with a lot of fun. The little siblings played games together. Kyle, Kenny and Butters together ate the food Tweek offers. Pip is enjoying his tea by himself but he did accompany some of the little siblings for company. Karen liked how he looks and Pip would acknowledge her with a thanks once in a while. It was then on that even if the party was just as calm as it is, Tweek felt it was a success. Everyone loved Tweek’s parties for a reason. Tweek would love it to be calm and light-hearted or go all in and make it big. Christmas has been amazing for everyone in the shop, and Tweek’s invites worked rather well. Once the party ends, they all gather with Tweek in front and do a big groupie shot like in the previous years. Everyone keeps a copy of it to cherish and this marks yet another successful Christmas party! -End

[ainchase]

Rosé.

Rosé.

Rosé.

Has anyone ever called my name so lovingly before...? He calls it as if the very name is precious... like it’s the most lovely name in the world...

I don’t know if he does it knowingly... No. You wouldn’t know. 

The only reason you can be this cruel is because you don’t know... You don’t know what your words do to me.

“This Doesn’t Have A Title and I Am Sorry In Advance (II)”

Previous: This Doesn’t Have a Title and I Am Sorry In Advance (I)

Note: This fanfic is meant to be read with Romance in C Major as its BGM. (Right click on the video and select ‘Loop’)

Usually thirty minutes is pretty short for a lunch break, but I found myself being pleasantly surprised at how much time we still have left. We have a good fifteen minutes before we have to stop staring at the clouds and go back to class. Suddenly, I had a burning desire to ask the question I never bothered to ask before. I broke the silence.

“You know, I’ve been wondering...” “Yeah?”

Ain answered without taking his eyes off the horizon.

“Why do you do that?” “Do what?” “Pretending to be nice to people you hate? If you hate them so much, just tell it to their faces. It’s good to be honest.”

Ain nervously laughed at the question.

“You wouldn’t understand...”

He raised his eyebrows as if amused at his sudden realization. But his eyes were still fixed on the clouds.

“... Then again, I guess you’re the only one who could understand.” “What do you mean?” “You know my family’s history.”

He let out a deep sigh. I stared at him. Something unfortunate happened to his family when we were kids, but only my parents knew the full details. They never told me exactly what occurred, and I never asked Ain in fear of overstepping my boundaries. He fiddled around with the empty can for a bit then opened his mouth.

“My family’s business collapsed because of my father — my brilliant father — who trusted people too easily. After he killed himself, my mother had to raise me.. She expects the perfect son so that she could have her old life back.”

I always assumed his father died of an accident. They stopped coming to church ever since his death, and I wondered if that had anything to do with it. I began to understand why his mother was so strict with him.

“Because he trusted the wrong man... we lost everything. I don’t trust anyone, Rosé. Human beings especially. Not a single one. Those pieces of shit who used my family for their own gain and discarded us... Those who ignored us when we needed their help... I hated them, until I realized the truth: this is how the world runs. 

I can’t be like my father, giving endlessly. I’ll use who and whatever I can.  The ones who approach me? They’re trying to use me too. I understand that. Yeah, it fucking sucks, and it’s shitty as hell, but that’s reality.”

I was appalled while my mind scrambled to find words. When I managed to do so, they bursted out of my mouth.

“What about me?”

Ain finally looked in my direction, shocked at the hostility in my voice.

”...What about you?” "What's my purpose? Am I...to be discarded later too?"

His eyes widened at the accusation. He calmed down and gave me a concerned expression mixed with guilt and pain.

“...You know I don’t think that way about you, Rosé.” “No, I don’t know that. Can you hear yourself? What am I to you?”

I knew my words sound like an interrogation. I wanted to avoid this god-awful, awkward silence so I took it as a chance to apologize.

“I’m sorry, I just... I got scared... that I might be tossed away.”

I looked up at his face to see if he was upset. Surprisingly, he smiled.

“Not possible. You’re precious to me.”

P-Precious. He just said... precious. I’m precious to him. I hid my face behind the curtain of hair and hoped they will cover my embarrassment. Luckily, Ain didn’t notice and continued.

“They can’t understand why I do this... why I live like this. They can never understand the suffocating pressure I live in... constantly.”

He peered down into the empty soda can as though he’s peeking inside to find words that can help explain his feelings.

“But you’re different. You’re the only one who can understand me. Because you’re my... only friend. The only one I can call my friend.”

He looked up once again and stared at the horizon.

"I can only be honest with you. I can feel the burden on my chest becoming lighter, you know? I...really cherish our moments together."

He sighed and closed his eyes to muster up the strength to say the next words.

“I’m... always trying to be careful around you, Rosé. I never want to do anything that could jeopardize our friendship. I don’t want to lose what we have right now... Ever.”

From that moment until the bell rang, we sat in silence. My mind spun from my confused emotions. On one hand, I was beyond ecstatic to hear from his own lips that I am precious to him. Yet, the agonizing truth dragged me to the depth of hell. I knew what he was trying to say: 

“We would be friends... really good friends... and nothing more.”

Where the hell is he?

School festival approached, and the Student Council was at its busiest time of the year. There were mountains of papers to review with Ain, but I couldn’t find him anywhere. 

I passed by an empty classroom and glanced into it through the window. A familiar figure lay on the floor.

...Ain?

I rushed into the classroom. He was sprawled on the floor with his back against the wall. He stared at the ground and refused to look up even when I entered.

“Ain, are you okay? Are you hurt? What’s wrong?”

I put my hand on his shoulder, but he waved it away. He breathed very slowly.

"I'll be fine...Just give me a moment. It'll go away...T-This happens s-sometimes." “You... You don’t look well. Are you sure?” “...Leave me alone.” “Can you stand? Let’s go to the nurse’s office.” “I said leave me alone.” “Ain, let me save you... please.”

Ain scoffed.

“Save... me?”

When he raised his head to look into my eyes, I froze at the sheer contempt. He shook his head.

“No one can save me, Rosé.”

A sharp pang of pain stabbed me. My vision blurred from these bottled up emotions.

“Something's obviously wrong, but you won't tell me...! All I've ever done was sit and listen to you talk.”

Looking annoyed from having to repeat the same point again and again, Ain took his gaze away from me and scrutinized the ground.

“Listening alone... is fine. That’s enough for me.” “Isn’t it normal for friends to help each other? You said I was your only friend.”

He narrowed his eyes at me at the mention of the word ‘friend.’

“Yeah, I did say that. I said you’re the only one who can understand me, but that doesn’t mean you have the right to interfere with how I live my own damn life.”

My jaw dropped; my tears couldn't stop falling. It's no use. I don't care anymore...

“Interfere...? Worrying about you is interfering?!” “Rosé!”

Ain shouted. I’ve never heard him shout at anyone before. Who knew I’d be the first person he would shout at? The shock stopped my tears. His cold eyes told me to back off.

“How many times do I have to tell you? Leave me alone.”

He closed his eyes and began massaging his arms. It looked like he was used to doing this. It must have happened many times before.

“I... I don’t want to get attached to you. No, I’ve gotten attached to you already, to the point of loathing myself for it.”

He looked up at me with guilt in his eyes.

“ I'm sorry...I don't want to get used to you. If I always receive your help...I'll start to rely on you...and...I...I-I'm afraid, when I get used to you, Rosé...I'm afraid...I won't be able to function without you.”

Remorse, guilt, shame—which of them left my heart shattered? No...It's fine...I don't mind at all... If only I could say those words...

"Can't we stay the way we are...? That's all...I won't ask for more."

What do I have to do? 

... What can I do?

Must I only watch at a distance? I want to help. I...I want to reach out and embrace you. I want to save you...Why can't I be the one to save you? You're suffering, yet you would rather be all alone. Why...? Am I useless...after all?

Ain... Did you know?

You are afraid of being attached to me...but I...I...

I'm already used to you—your voice that calls out my name, your way of smiling at me, your way of telling me I'm special to you. Your words are like the sweetest poison I cannot live without, slowly destroying me from the inside...

I put my head down on the desk and waited for a reply.

I closed my laptop shut and collapsed into my bed. 

I don’t know anymore. I don’t want to force my own opinion on him and have our friendship break because of that. I should... respect his opinion... but are things going to be okay?

Maybe Zero is right... maybe I was being selfish... 

“I miss you.” “You're mine, Rosé." Such sweet words are but impossible dreams in the sky. But I know...these feelings...aren't purely because of my greed...

Why do these hands not hold anything? Why can't these hands hold anything? I'm...falling into an abyss...as I watch those feelings consume him. I'm chained to the ground and the only thing I can do is watch as he drowns.

Am I...really this worthless? Can't I do anything? Is there something I can do...but wouldn't? If so...should I act upon it? No matter what the costs? 

Even if I lose everything in the process?

Next: Your Limit - 1

[ahnnecognita]

Well, I seemed to have done it again. Several more months have flown by without a post from me. I did partially start this blog as a journal for myself, but now that I’m using an actual journal, I sometimes find that it feels a little redundant to write it all out again. But it’s not, it’s helpful to write detailed notes immediately after a training session or tournament, just as it’s also useful to reflect and summarize them later on as well. So now that Spring is almost here, let’s walk through the Fall and Winter together and I’ll show you what I’ve been up to.

First, a quick recap of the Fall. I spent much of the Fall and early winter working on some technique changes, partly tiny optimizations, but also little tweaks to help avoid injury. This is an ongoing process, and it’s very helpful for you and your coach to work with a Physiotherapist to help identify issues that may appear with overuse, or to develop alternate movement patterns that may work better for you, and most importantly, to avoid injury.

Through the rest of the Winter, I worked hard on not only increasing my weekly arrow volume, but also on developing mental techniques and strategies to help deal with distractions, stress, and anxiety, both on and off the shooting line. Additionally, I began working on realistic goal setting procedures. The first real test for my mental game was at the 2019 Lancaster Archery Classic.

I felt a lot more confident this year than I did last year, but I think I had also put some extra expectations on myself that caused some unintentional stress. While my mental strategies worked well and helped me to recover from a poor shot, I found I had difficulty using them on every shot like I had practiced. But that’s a good thing, my results may not have been what I expected, but I learned a lot from the experience that I’ll be able to take forward into my practice and into future competitions. Here’s a good example of a mental game test, in case you were wondering what it looks like when you have an equipment failure and have to shoot a make up end .. alone .. with everyone watching:

Learning from day one, the second day went much better. While I lost my match, I succeeded in meeting (and exceeding) my performance goals!

Much of these new skills has been developed by working with the National Development and Identification Squad, lead by former national head coach Joan McDonald. It’s a wonderful group of athletes, constantly pushing and encouraging each other to do better; to be better. Sometimes, we need a break from the pressure and intensity of training, and what better way to relax and have fun than a gingerbread house building and decorating party!?

  Most of the time we talk about results, performance, and what was learned at a competition, but I think it’s important to talk about the less glamorous parts of the sport too. It takes a team to make an athlete, and archery is no exception. Most athletes (if not ALL athletes) would not be where they are today without the help and support of friends, family, teammates, and club members. It’s all of these people that help with travel, planning, training, scheduling, equipment maintenance, and SO much more. As an example, at the Peel Archery Club and The Archers of Caledon, we close the range to repair all of the butts at least 2 or 3 times a year. Without the help of club members, this process would take much longer, and at times be more than a couple people could handle; those mobile butts are so heavy we need a crane!

I am very thankful and grateful that my hard work, passion, and performance improvements have been noticed with an invitation to attend one of the national team’s week long training camps in Florida. It was great opportunity and a lot of hard work, it was a very enjoyable and rewarding week of training with Team Canada. Not only was it great to get some outdoor shooting in before the season starts next month, but I learned so much and gained some valuable new mental tools to add to my collection. I’m thankful for the opportunity to shoot with, learn from, and to build friendships with the team. Look out, world!

Immediately after returning home from the training camp, I had the opportunity to put the new, and existing, techniques and strategies to good use at the Ontario Provincial Championships, followed a week later by the Canadian National Championships, and a selection camp for the team travelling to Chile at the end of March for a Pan-Am Games qualification tournament. It was a pretty intense month of training and competition, but a good opportunity to test and implement my mental strategies, especially toward the end where the intensity ramped up just as I was getting sick.

At Provincials, I had a big oops toward the end, but I was shooting really well and had found a good flow and mental state, allowing my to stick to my strategies and hold out to win gold by a few points.

A week later, at Nationals, I had a slow start and started getting into my head a little. At the break, I was able to talk with my coach and friends, which allowed me to mentally reset and refocus on my process. I managed to shoot a personal best second half of 290/300 (my first ever 290), and win the silver medal. This was the day where I started feeling sick, but I knew I the next two days were extremely important since they were the selection camp. I got as much rest, and took lots of notes about all the things I had learned in the past couple weeks.

The morning of Day 1 of the camp started really well with a new 36 arrow 70m personal best of 318/360, but toward the end of the second set of 36 arrows, the sickness began to hit me. The effort of drawing the bow was quite a lot, and I had to take a while between arrows to catch my breath and recover from the effort exerted. Thankfully, I was shooting next to a wall I could use for balance between arrows. I still managed a 301 second half for a new 70m personal best of 619/720! The rest of the camp went very similar to that, I’d get some rest overnight and at lunch, but after a few hours, I was spent. Those were two long, rewarding days spent with some of the strongest, kindest, and most passionate women I know. Their friendship and support make the hardest days so much easier! Since it’s now official, I can announce that I am one of 9 athletes selected to the Final Pan American Games Qualifier in Santiago Chile!

After taking a week to recover from being ill, I’m finding it really difficult to get back into the groove that I had found myself in earlier in the month; my strength and conditioning have both declined a little. With just less than two weeks before we leave for Chile, I’ll be working extra hard to not only regain what I lost, but to improve it while also avoiding injury and getting sick again. Representing Canada at the international level has long been a dream for me, and I don’t plan on letting my country down. This opportunity to test myself and my strategies at a higher level fits right into my plan to continue learning and improving on my journey to win Olympic Gold.

Taking into account my expected competition, travel, and equipment expenses for this year, I have decided to start a Go Fund Me Campaign to help offset some of the costs. Please have a look at the campaign, share it, and if you can, please donate; every little bit helps! Additionally, please share and donate to my teammate Mariessa as well!

Our current women’s team is getting stronger, and now that our national development program is taking shape, I can tell you to watch out for Team Canada to have a very strong international showing over the next several years!

End of 2018-19 Indoor Season Well, I seemed to have done it again. Several more months have flown by without a post from me.

[3one3]

The Sequel - 785

Family Planning

André Schürrle, Juan Mata, other Chelsea players, and random awesome OC’s

(okay they’re less random now but they’re still pretty awesome)

original epic tale

all chapters of The Sequel

Juan showed up as scheduled, and he wasn’t dressed appropriately for some night of devious behavior either. He was in matching sweats and comfy tennis shoes, and sort of looked like he’d lived three entire days in the hours since she left his apartment. Christina got a one-arm side-hug when she let him in, and a mildly savoring forehead kiss. Something was definitely wrong. Wine was declined, beer was accepted, popcorn was made, and an incredibly important but seriously depressing Bertolucci film was selected. The player sat on the couch by himself while his host cleaned the pot she used to make the popcorn and drank his Stella. The pot could have waited. It could have sat overnight with some soap and water to make it easier to get the popping oil out. She needed a couple of minutes to plan how to get him to open up and share whatever was plaguing him. The strategy she came up with was blunt interrogation. There was no way he could pretend nothing was wrong. He would have to address it in some way. Christina figured if she could at least approach it with a little humor, maybe he wouldn’t immediately try to shut her out. Part of her hoped the whole reason he was there was to do the opposite of that- to confide in her. Sometimes he just wanted company when he was down or had things on his mind though, not an ear to borrow.

“You didn’t break up with Taylor again, did you?” she inquired with caution upon taking her spot next to him- André’s spot, really.

“No. I saw her tonight though. She knows I had sex with someone last night. I don’t know how. Maybe I look a certain way,” Juan shrugged absently. “Or maybe she went sniffing the bed sheets. I don’t know. She doesn’t get to be upset about it, so it doesn’t matter that much. I was a little afraid she would ask me who. I don’t want to lie to her. I obviously can’t tell her the truth.”

“I’m sorry, Juanin. I didn’t want for-“

“That’s not the problem, cariña,” he assured with the most meager of smiles. “Don’t get yourself all worked up about that. I have things on my mind. She’s not one of them. And neither are you,” he added when he saw Christina gearing up to interject.

“Do you wanna talk about it?”

“I want to watch this film. This girl in it is crazy. I think that terrible one you made us watch with all the sex and drugs in Paris was supposed to be like an update on this. You can’t update Bertolucci though. He made this genre.” The Spaniard got up from the couch cushion for a second to select the flattest of the throw pillows from the other end, and set it on his ex’s thigh, on top of her blanket. Then he lay on his side to put his head there and have the best view of the TV. He reached for the popcorn bowl for her and blindly wedged it between his pillow and the back cushion on the side of the corner, also in her lap, so that she could get to it without having to lean over him, or obstructing his view. He even drank from the beer bottle like that. He couldn’t be pried open even with the best can opener. The rider knew she would have to wait him out to find out what was bothering him and damping his usual good spirits and sense of humor. She ate the garlic-butter popcorn with her left hand and kept the right one grease-free to pet his head.

That was something she really relished. Juan was different from André in a myriad of ways, and perhaps none more disparately than how he dealt with feeling down, or stressed out. The German didn’t think twice about getting into Christina’s lap in some way, or putting himself somewhere that forced her to pay attention to him, or hold him. He could even say “pay attention to me” and make his face sad and implore her to dote on him- to play with his hair, or rub his back, or even just hold his hand. His old Chelsea teammate wasn’t like that. She could count the number of times he expressly asked for that kind of affection on one hand. And she liked when it happened, because it meant she could give back a small amount of what he gave her in abundance all the time. Obviously his sadness or preoccupation didn’t make her happy, but she also liked that she was the person he chose to help make it better. He once told her that ministering to her affection needs- being the one doing the holding, playing with the hair, massaging- did the same for him as being on the receiving end. Ministering to her was how he helped himself feel better, and relax. She did her absolute best when whatever was on his mind was too difficult for that to work.

“This girl is beyond crazy. She’s so annoying. And her hair- my god. I would not have survived the 70’s with my sanity intact. I couldn’t look like that. I couldn’t survive with that level of forestation between my legs either,” she remarked after seeing the lead actress undress for the second or third time. Last Tango in Paris is all about a young girl’s weird sexual relationship with an older American guy who has just lost his wife, who was having an affair with another guy he knew, and her relationship with her young fiancé, who is also making a movie about her. It is not an action film, or even all that heavy on plot, but it is emotionally intense and engaging, and the direction has long been considered artwork. Marlon Brando’s performance as the American has been similarly fabled.

“Do you ever let it grow? I’ve never seen you with anything more than a little fuzz.”

“Never like that. That’s like having a beard around your vagina. First of all, how do you keep that clean and the skin nice? Do you shampoo it? Condition? Can you put regular body lotion on it? Second, that skin goes wasted when it’s covered in fur. It’s sensitive. It feels good to touch it, but not if you can’t even feel it,” Christina argued. “I love touching that skin when it’s waxed or just shaved. Especially when it’s...wet,” she laughed. “I freely admit the first thing I do after shaving is molest myself. And she’s got it all over the place too! That would stick out of my underwear! Eww.”

“I love that skin too,” Juan told her casually as he turned onto his back and looked up from his pillow. He was smiling. Her fingers never stopped opening and closing on his scalp. The hair on his head was much nicer to touch than the pubic hair they were discussing.

“It’s still available for touching and/or kissing if you decide you’d rather do that than mope.”

“Remember I told you a while ago that my dad is thinking of opening a restaurant here?” The player got a silent nod, and also a piece of popcorn offered above his mouth, which he shook his head to decline. “He had an experienced manager lined up to be a partner, and a chef they wanted to work with. They put everything in motion, started buying the equipment, leased a property in Soho. Now the others have backed out to do other projects. He wants to talk to David- You remember my friend with the restaurant in Oviedo, yes? I introduced you? We went to his place? You said we should make a restaurant here? He wants me to get him involved, but I don’t know if I should. David would jump at the chance. I think the other people backed out because of my dad, though. He can be hard to work with and he doesn’t know what he’s doing. I don’t want my good friend to get involved and have it go badly for him, and I don’t want him to get involved and have it mess up our friendship. But I also don’t want to have to say, “Hey Papa, I can’t help you with David because I think your restaurant will be a disaster for him”. I’m not moping. I’m thinking.”

“Man, this one is sooooo easy,” Christina teased. “I respect that you’re so used to having to hear and deal with my crap that you feel a need to manufacture some drama in your life so you feel like you’re participating, but this is not a big problem, my dear. Tell David your pops wants to pitch him on this restaurant thing but forewarn him that you don’t think it’s a good project yet and he should respectfully decline.”

“I don’t want to sell my dad out,” her friend countered. “It’s possible that with David the restaurant becomes a big success.”

“Well you always tell me to let you make up your mind about what is or isn’t good for you. You don’t trust your friend to make a good decision for himself?”

“No.”

“Why not?”

“I don’t know.

“Then...I don’t know either.”

“Let’s have a baby.”

“What?”

“Leave him and have a baby with me.”

“Yeah, I’ll get right on that,” the rider laughed before stuffing a handful of popcorn in her mouth. Juan appeared completely serious, but he could do that. That’s why he was funny. He was good at acting.

“Great. I like the name Olivia. Would that be okay for our daughter?”

“Did you steal narcotics from the hospital?”

“No. I left there wishing I had someone to love the way those parents love their kids. Someone healthy, God willing,” he said without breaking. That was when Christina realized it was so easy for him to look serious because he actually was serious, sort of. His eyes tracked hers. Wherever she looked, they followed. There was very little lag in the process since he was just looking up from her lap, and she felt like he was even predicting which way she’d avert her blues while she digested his words. Her own expression probably showed that, and when she responded it was with a “nothing” comment- a time buyer.

“Oh. Ohhhhhh. That’s why you’re here to be petted.”

“Yes.”

“Juanin...why don’t you just end your silly charade with Taylor and go find a woman you could have a family with?” Buying time didn’t really help her come up with something considered to say, because she had a more impulsive reaction practically bursting out of her. It was much, much easier for her to be decisive and conclusive about other people’s lives than her own, and especially those she was close to. For her entire life, whenever a friend gave her a chance to really give feedback on a personal situation, a lot came out, and usually with a sense of the frustration or disbelief Christina had over it for a long time. Usually it was Christina lecturing Jill about some worthless guy she was seeing, or some nice guy she was using instead of being serious with.

“Do you say that because you think it’s the right answer, or because you hate Taylor?” The Spanish footballer didn’t seem wont to give her judgement much credence. He just smirked at her.

“I don’t hate Taylor. I hate that you’re with a girl you don’t really love, and don’t tell me you do love her and it’s just that you love her less than me, because I know you, you jerk, and you would not treat any woman you love the way you treat her. You just wouldn’t. You stay with her because you’re afraid of falling for someone else who might take you away from the future you think you have with me. You’re afraid you’ll meet someone who needs what you save for me, and that you won’t know what to do. You’re as stuck between two futures as I am. You pick this crappy middle-ground between me and her instead of a third person who could give you everything you want because you’re afraid, just like I’m afraid to choose just him and cut you out, or to choose just you, and tear my family apart. I pick this in-between thing instead. You and I are so awful for each other, Juan. Just awful. What are we doing?” Christina’s rant went from mildly defensive and condescending to plaintive and sad, and her voice began to fail her again. The rasp and crack made the sentiment of her words all the more harsh and stark. It wiped the smirk right off the face below.

“Don’t get all upset,” he suggested without a smile of any sort. “Take a deep breath.”

“How long are we going to keep ignoring this? You know it’s true. You know it would be better for both of us if we weren’t close. I’m not even going to be here soon. You should dump Taylor and ignore me and go meet a nice girl who can be all yours and treat you well, and who you can commit to completely.”

“Is that what you want? You honestly think your life would be better without me in it?” he asked plainly while scratching under his jaw.

“Not better, but easier.”

“Is it what you want, cariña? Answer that question.”

“No.” The rider’s admission was just sad. Her eyes tried very diligently to get away from his but he was committed to following them. “I want out of this uncertainty though, and I want you to be happy and have what you want. Trust me, having a kid is not something you’re going to want to wait until you’re old to do. They’re exhausting. Don’t wait until you’re too old and tired to do a good job.”

“I wasn’t serious! I have no interest in becoming a father in this moment.”

“You were not just making a joke. I know you! You think I don’t know you mean what you say when you’re 9 inches from my face?”

“You think I really asked you to have a baby with me right now? Come on,” Juan scoffed, finally breaking eye contact just so he could roll his eyes. Their conversation was more like bickering than the serious and contemplative thing it had become before that. “I would never.”

“Just because it wasn’t literal doesn’t mean it’s not serious.”

“What do you want me to do? Do you want me to be the person who stays with you when you’re upset and lonely, and who sleeps with you when you feel like it, or do you want me to start a family with someone else? You can’t have both. Pick one.”

“It shouldn’t be my choice! You have to decide what is right for you. We’ve been over this. But don’t keep choosing Plan A if you’re having thoughts and cravings for...spreading the seed or whatever. I don’t want you to look at me in a couple of years and hate me because you kept putting off your life for me.” Christina put the popcorn bowl on the table behind the couch and folded her arms, trying to summon some indignation, or just some emotional distance from the topic at hand. I don’t want to lose him as what he is for me, but I don’t want him to hurt himself either, and honestly it would probably be good for both of us once we got over it. It would be hard. It would hurt a lot. But then he can move on and have a normal relationship with someone and I can have a less complicated one with Schü, she reminded herself while she waited for the boy staring at her to respond.

“You only say it’s my choice because you don’t want to tell me to take Plan B.”

“You only try to put it back on me because you’re stubborn!”

“Cariña I have exactly what I want for myself right now. Honestly. I am happy with what I have. “Some days I wake up and I don’t want to do this. It’s not the work- I’m not afraid of work. I just don’t know if I even care.” That’s what you said the other day about your career,” the Chelsea creator recited very calmly. “Some days I want something different in my life too. This time of year I see my family, I go meet these kids and their parents, and I think I want to start my own family. I don’t have to act on a temporary feeling. Some days I want to blow off football and go all the places I’ve never been. I don’t do that. How long did you feel like you wanted to have a baby before you started trying?”

“Three months.”

“So if I feel for three months like I do today, then I worry about changing my life.”

“Why is everything so simple for you? Why are you never uncertain or unsure about anything? It’s so annoying,” Christina grumbled with her arms folded above his head. And why do you remember every god damned thing I say? I didn’t even say this one! I tweeted it! Stop reading my tweets, Juanin.

“I don’t know. You used to be the same. I miss that about you, to be honest.” He raised a brow at her and then sat up straight, perhaps not wanting to see the flicker of hurt in her eyes that always came with his assertions that she’d changed over time. He reached to the side of the couch behind and used his feet flat on the cushion to hoist himself up so he could move back and sit on her thighs the way she always did to André in that spot. The two dogs sleeping between her calves lifted their heads to express irritation at the disturbance.

“Why are you sitting on me?”

“Just trying it out.”

“Are you ever going to set me free?”

“Ask yourself, not me.”

“Well can’t you be mean to me?”

“I have. You always take me back,” the player smiled. He then put both hands on her face and bent down to smooch her pouting mouth. “And I’m not in the habit of giving up on things I want,” he added more quietly.

“You’re so annoying.”

“Yeah, I am definitely the more annoying between us.”

“I like when you smell like beer.”

The thing about Juan- and a difference between him and André in that moment- was that Christina could move in and out of deadly serious conversations with him with ease. They could joke about nothing and debate major life decisions at the same time. He calmed her down. He took her down from even great emotional heights. Her husband struggled to do that recently. He could only make the discussion even more heated until she eventually brought herself down, only when she did so it was without letting go of the negative emotions. She just shrank away from the elevation to protect herself. She would still feel upset inside. For some reason she couldn’t quite understand, that didn’t happen with Juan. She could get all worked up one second and he would say the right thing to diffuse her building explosion, or even to clean it up immediately after it happened. He could halt the panic attack in its tracks, when it suited him. Sometimes he wanted her to stay upset. That was the selfish thing he alluded to the night before. He wasn’t going to be selfish on Thursday and force her to keep thinking about hard decisions and hard situations. He took her from the brink of screaming and crying about her essential life problem to near-calm explanatory conversation to casual sarcasm and banter, and then she took herself somewhere completely different. “I like when you smell like beer” wasn’t sarcasm, or even a joke. The Blue didn’t take it like one either. He leaned down to kiss her again, but the open-mouth kind.

“When I smell like beer or when I taste like it?” he asked after withdrawing his tongue from hers.

“Both.”

“Am I sleeping here?”

“I don’t know. Are you?”

“I don’t know. What time are you giving your top 10 secrets to success?”

“My wha- Oh! Shit I keep forgetting about that. I think the lady and her videographer come at 1. You have training in the morning?”

“Mhm.”

“How do you feel about breakfast smoothie bowls with a bossy toddler?”

“Positively to very positively...” Juan’s answer shrunk in volume and definition as he leaned over even further to free one of his friend’s breasts from her tank top and cover her nipple with his mouth. Christina got the chills the way she did when she was actually unbearably hot and her skin tried desperately to cool her off by sweating profusely all at once and giving her a false sense of cold on its surface for a split second.

“Even if I put chia seeds and spinach in them?” she asked.

“Mhm,” he verified without removing his lips from her.

“Can you lick while I suck?”

“Mhm.”

“Do you wanna help me shave first?”

“Mhm.”

“Can you take your mouth off the boob long enough to go upstairs?”

“Yes,” the player smiled once he sat up. Then his eyes narrowed. “I thought you don’t like giving and receiving at the same time?”

“I don’t. You do.”

“When are you going to let me fuck your butt?”

“Literally never.”

“Why?”

“It’s gross.”

“It doesn’t have to be. I can make sure it’s not. What if you actually enjoy it?”

“I won’t.”

“How do you know if you don’t try? Not even for me?” Juan snaked his arms around Christina and tried to cozy up to her, like that would change her mind about anal sex. He was so disingenuous about it that it had no chance of working. It just made her laugh.

“We’re sleeping together again for one day and you’re already making this pitch? Damn, Juanin,” she chuckled.

“Okay fine. What if we take small steps? We can work up to it,” he offered in a way that suggested he thought he was being very generous. At least I don’t have to worry about him coming here because he’s all troubled and emotional and then wanting to have emotional remedy sex, the rider mused to herself. That would be concerning. That would be a sign of a coming problem. But no, he’s busy wanting to put his dick in my ass. What could be less emotional than that? Except for the part where I suffer from emotions such as mortification, humiliation, extreme pain, and disgust. “You’ll see how you like-“

“Juan Mata Garcia, if you stick a finger in my butt it will be the last time you put anything anywhere.”

“What about my tongue?”

“Ewww! Why would you want to put your tongue someplace like that? I know girls pretend that girls don’t poop, but I have news for you: we do.”

“I have news for you too,” he laughed back. “You put your tongue in places that get touched by poop too, or did you think it gets ejected at an angle like-“

“Okay stop.” Christina covered her mouth with her hand and concentrated very hard on not letting the popcorn and wine in her stomach try to eject itself. She was always willing to lick areas she considered “butt adjacent”, and she only allowed herself to do that because she was convinced they were “cleaner” than an actual anus. There was a standing rule about not putting her mouth on anything that wasn’t shaven, so André kept those areas well groomed. The Spaniard was too lazy to do that often, but he also so enjoyed her service that she frequently used to break her own rule. He didn’t forget that.

“The hair also-“

“Stop! You are one word from not getting sex of any kind.”

“What are you doing on the 14th, 15th, and 16th?”

“Not having buttsex with you.”

“I’m serious. What are you doing? Want to come to the beach?”

“I’m gonna go to Dortmund probably because Schü has a few days off when he gets back from camp. You should take Taylor down with you and have a buttsex marathon,” she suggested while navigating her breast back into her shirt in the most smug way possible. Juan pulled her closer to kiss her left temple. His lips touched her as if to just give a fond peck, but then they lingered.

“Let’s go make you bare,” he said against her head before pulling his lower lip up to meet the stationary top one. “I want to lick that spot you talked about, and make it wet.”

“K.” He’s so addicting, she whined internally. He’s like a toy you don’t want to put down until you’re absolutely sick of playing with it. No Juan for at least two weeks after this, the rider resolved.