#Hiding is good in principle but in practice there's no easy way to track sight cones in a normal fight

[laylacooke]

Go Our Own Way || Celeste & Layla

timing: The night of the attack on Lucas. parties: @celestelavie & @laylacooke summary: A bummed Layla has a heart-to-heart with a supportive Celeste. ♥ warnings: Mention of abuse, because of Layla & Celeste’s shitty parents.

Celeste felt a certain affinity for Layla that she hadn’t quite experienced before. It was rare to exist in the realm of both hunters and werewolves. There was a certain contradiction to it that made you an outlier in both worlds with neither truly embracing you as you were. Once she learned Layla came from a hunter family, she could understand her hesitance to trust other wolves. She only hoped that others could show her the same kindness and acceptance that Ulfric and Ariana had. The poor girl was just a kid, she needed someone to care for her and show her how to navigate the world as a werewolf, not to be forced to live on the streets. She knew the damage Layla must have caused, but she had help now. 

She was looking forward to spending the evening with the younger woman while Ulfric and Ariana were out investigating that howl. She didn’t necessarily love Ariana walking into danger, but she had to trust the two of them knew how to handle themselves. She’d trained Ariana to be prepared for this sort of thing. Spending the time and talking with Layla would distract her from her own worry. She had felt Layla approach before the front door ever clicked open. Over the years, she’d gotten used to having goosebumps a majority of the time. The constant edge alerting you of someone’s presence. It had been unnerving at first, but she’d become accustomed to it. When she heard Layla walk in, she went back out into the living area to greet her and help put groceries away. “Hey, Layla,” she called as she walked out, “I hope there were no mime sightings on your outing?” 

It had only been a few days since Layla had experienced her first decent injury, and while she still felt the occasional light-headedness, it was mostly her ribs that gave her trouble, so when Layla had returned with a borrowed shopping cart full of groceries, it was no longer apparent that she could hide anything from Celeste, unless Ariana had already told her, “No, mime sightings.” Thank goodness. That was the last thing she could handle right now. “But I did get potatoes for the banned French Fries.” She pushed the cart up as close to the trailer steps as she could, before she had picked up a few bags; deciding not to “strong woman” it today and get them all in one go.

As she slowly walked up the steps, she spoke, “So... you’re positive Ariana and Ulf don’t need my help, because I can go, if they need back up.” Since she had met Ari, Celeste, and Ulf, all Layla had wanted was to learn how to be a werewolf. Out of all the wolves she had heard about, she had truly felt like the weakest of the pack. It had been a blow to her self-esteem, when she was told to stay home, but at the same time, she knew it was probably for the best and hiding her injuries from the fight with Fran and Rio, didn’t exactly help her case, but just in case they had changed their mind, she had to ask.

Teenagers were damn good at finding trouble, though after two mime encounters of her own, Celeste decided she hardly had room to judge. She was still sore as hell from reopening the stitches on her leg after fighting Kaden’s mime. Ariana had casually mentioned it and she knew better than to press. She had a little more leeway with telling Ariana what to do, but even her input on that seemed pretty nonexistent these days. It was no matter; Layla had made it home safely and mime free. “I suppose I should make those French fries I promised you then.” She set the groceries down on the counter and unloaded them into the fridge and cabinets, leaving a few potatoes out to make French fries with shortly. 

Celeste’s head tilted to the side slightly, her lips curved slightly upward and her eyes soft, as she answered, “Layla, we’re both injured. Ariana and Ulfric are better off without us slowing them down.” She could tell she wanted to help. It seemed she and Ariana had quickly become attached. Wanting to help the people she cared for was something Celeste could understand, but there was far too much at risk. “One day I’m sure you’ll be out there trying to save the day with them. This is all still new to you and when you’re not physically at your best is not the time to be charging right in.” While she was not necessarily helpful with the wolf stuff, her face lit up as she exclaimed, “You know, once we’re both healed up, we could practice some more self-defense. I’m sure your parents made you practice plenty, but I’ll try to make it more fun than educational… Do pink boxing gloves make things more fun?” 

Layla sat her own haul down, “You don’t have to make them just for me. We can wait.” Turning around, she slowly walked back out to the cart. Grabbing the rest of it, she came back in and shut the door behind her with her foot. Putting the rest of the bags on the counter, she started to take out the remaining items, but made sure to stay out of Celeste’s way. The kitchen was already small enough as it was and two people putting away groceries was a nearly impossible feat. Instead, she went to the couch and sat down. Leaning back, Layla closed her eyes for a moment trying to let her body relax with the release of a quivering sigh.

The woman’s words seemed to have caught her attention, “Ari told you, didn’t she?” Layla looked to the floor with defeat. How had she been so stupid to go out and get herself injured already. She had just found a place to stay and someone to hang out with, and, now, she was missing out on potentially learning all the ways she could use her curse for good. “I know, but you don’t get it, Celeste...I finally find people like me who accept me,  and they’re out there doing things I need to know how to do, if I want to be able to survive, and then just like everyone else, they shut me out.” She growled under her breath, her eyes burning in frustration, but with a few, slow, and currently painful, deep breaths, she calmed down to see a smile on Celeste’s face, “Yeah, okay. I’ll go get my bow.” She realized what Celeste might think, “Not tonight obviously. Lord knows we wouldn’t want baby wolf sticking her nose in where it doesn’t belong.” She realized she was being temperamental, “Sorry. I know you’re just trying to help.” Had Layla even told Celeste, Ari, or Ulf that she carried a bow with her? If not, she did now.

Celeste nodded, “French fries when everyone gets home it is.” A little more time relaxing would be nice. Her leg was still throbbing from where she had to re-stitch it and she was secretly hoping Ariana would cook anyhow. She turned to Layla and smiled as she took the seat beside her on the couch. They hadn’t much of a chance to speak alone. Given, it was a fairly crowded trailer at this point.

She shook her head lightly, it had been obvious she was a little sore, but Ariana had mentioned as much when she told her they weren’t asking Layla to come along for tracking down the howl. Even Ariana going with Ulfric wasn’t something she had necessarily approved of, but to some extent, she had to let the girl make her own choices. She’d trained her well and hopefully that would come into play. “She did mention it,” Celeste reasoned, “I know you want to help and one day you will be.” She shifted in her seat, trying to put more weight on her uninjured leg. Her face was serious as she looked at Layla and explained, “Sometimes the best thing to do to help is stay put. It’s the same reason I’m here right now. We’re both injured which means we’re not at our best. A small mistake can be costly to everyone’s well being. Give it time, you’ll heal, and you’ll learn even more, and I have no doubt with your training, you’ll be unstoppable.” It was strange how she could see both herself and Ariana in Layla. Considering her parents wanted her dead, she had no doubt their childhoods were similar, but she had Ariana’s hot head. She sighed lightly, “I don’t believe it’s like that, Layla. Ari cares for you, I’m sure she doesn’t want you rushing off into danger when you’re already hurt. I’m sure soon enough she’ll be wanting you coming along everywhere with your bow on the ready.” She offered a small laugh, hoping the girl was a little more at ease. Offering her a good amount of support was vital, but it wasn’t always easy to know how to help. Her eyes lit up, “You know what we could do tonight that would be helpful and not too strenuous?” She slowly rose from the couch and pointed toward the window, “Have you seen the little weird squirrels in the yard? They’re agropelters and they have a real appetite for fingers. I have some traps we could set, but if you wanted to practice with moving targets, I’ve got a few weighted knives that’d do the trick.”

Layla was kind of caught up in her own mind and thoughts when Celeste had sat down next to her. She knew the woman didn’t know her that well. She also knew that she had been acting childish. This world was still new, and even more so with all the strange and weird creatures it held. She had only learned about a handful with her parents; partly because she hadn’t been interested. Their ideals and laws just hadn’t set well with her. But for that, she was now paying the price. Getting herself into more trouble than she could handle in a town she had never even heard of.

As she let her eyes fall onto Celeste, she listened without much debate. Everything she was saying held the truth. Layla was just eager and headstrong. She wanted to prove herself to everyone and show that taking a chance on her wasn’t a mistake. It hurt when people hadn’t even given her a chance, and now that they were, she didn’t want to blow it. But if she couldn’t keep herself safe, how was she supposed to keep anyone else safe. Basic principles of psychology that she had learned in her class in school, “I know everything that you guys are telling me is true. I guess I just don’t want to fail at this. I’ve already been kicked to the curb more times than I can count and letting down the people who actually decided to take a chance on me is the last thing I want to do.” She sighed, but Celeste’s suggestion had caught her attention, “Agro-whats?” She had seen those squirrels. They were cute in a hideous sort of way, but she didn’t know they fed off fingers. However, the idea of killing them had Layla sinking back down again, “Something I should probably explain...One of the reasons me and my parents didn’t get along so well was my belief in pacifism and not hurting living creatures or causing violence. Unfortunately, it seems like no matter what I do now, especially when I change, I can’t get away from it. And my bow...I shoot competitively, not to hunt…Thought I should clear that up as well. Some werewolf I am…”

Celeste knew she had to grow up faster than most. Outside of the ultimate act of defiance in hunter families, she had to quickly learn to be level-headed in order to care for a child. Even with Ariana, it was easy to forget just how normal teenagers acted without having supernatural drama even thrown into the mix. She reminded herself patience was key if she wanted to be able to help. At the mention of pacifism, she could see why she really didn’t seem to fit into the hunter world aside from the fact she was a werewolf. That also had to be a principle that was difficult for a young, recently turned werewolf to maintain as well. 

“You’re not letting anyone down. No one wants you to be anything more or less than what you are,” she assured. To find any sort of peace, she was going to need to embrace some part of her nature, but that would take time and adjusting. She could understand the parents thing though. Hunting had never really been something that held Celeste’s passion. While she always desired to help people in some way, she never quite saw how hunting was the best way to do so. It didn’t matter that her father forced her into a number of terrifying scenarios, part of it just always felt wrong. The boom of her father’s voice had always been more fearful than any of the small monsters he’d try to put in front of her. Until she’d been faced with the reality of having to kill a child, she thought she’d be able to fit into that perfect little mold her parents had built for her. She looked to Layla, “Then we’ll leave the strange squirrels alone. Classic target practice it is. I’d never want to make you do something you’re uncomfortable with. I’ve been there myself. I’ve clearly really taken on hunter ideology.” She reached over to give Layla a gentle pat on the shoulder, “What being a werewolf is for you will look different for you than it will for anyone else. That doesn’t make you more or less deserving of support from those you care for.” 

How had Layla managed to find people so like her own personal situation? She knew they had their own unique set of issues, but the fact that together, it was as if the girl saw herself in both Ariana and Celeste. Regardless, she was grateful to be with them, despite the ever-growing doubts about certain things that regularly plagued her mind. Still, though, she would be hard pressed to find another set of people willing to take her in who understood what her life had become in a little less than a year. And while she had wished so badly that she could be out following Ariana and Ulf around, this time with Celeste was turning out to be so much more valuable than she could have imagined.

Taking the woman’s words to heart, she made sure to tuck them away in her memory, so she could think back later and reassess all the things Celeste had said to her. But one of the biggest things that had made her trust Celeste more, and accept what this night was becoming, was how she had accepted Layla’s beliefs and wasn’t trying to pressure her into anything, “You don’t know how much what you just said means to me. If it were my parents, they would be forcing me to hunt those squirrel things right now, even if I begged them not to make me do it.” She looked into the woman’s eyes, “Thank you, Celeste.” Layla felt the pat on her shoulder and the kind words to follow but knowing that she would get to throw something at a target had brought a smile to her face. She hadn’t shot her bow in so long. She had missed the feeling of it, and even if knives were different, she had found a reason to be a little happier. However, as she climbed to her feet, she could feel the pressure in her ribs, and she winced in pain.

Sometimes a little patience could go a long way. It was a virtue that Celeste had made a point of adopting into her everyday life. People could really surprise you when you weren’t pushing them too hard or too quickly in an undecided direction. It would likely be a long while before Layla truly felt comfortable with what she was and that was perfectly okay. Everyone did things in their own time and that was something Celeste had to remind herself of everyday. It was easy enough to feel like she’d been behind where she was supposed to be herself. Taking care of a child had played a big role in that, but she wouldn’t trade it for anything. It just meant her timeline wasn’t quite the same as everyone else’s. 

There was a soft smile on her face as Layla thanked her. She hadn’t thought she said anything too profound, but she knew just how much showing support to someone could make all the difference. As she leaned back into the couch cushion, she reassured, “Of course. I know how that goes and I wouldn’t force it on anyone else. I always hated being forced into that kind of stuff, too, though I never dared to argue it. Well, not until… I’m sure you can fill in the blanks seeing as I’ve essentially raised a werewolf.” As a kid, her father had somehow managed to be more frightening than any of the creatures he’d put her up against. Hunting them had never brought her much satisfaction, but it had provided security that neither the creature nor her father would hurt her. The thought made her stomach twist slightly. It’d only be a matter of time before she was forced to see the man again. Her mom would be easy enough to deal with. Her father was a whole different story. Something about his presence made her feel like she was regressing, and she’d been thankful Ariana had been far away the last time she’d seen him. She knew she appeared a bit spaced out and shook her head slightly to see Layla wincing as she stood. “You know, we can save target practice for when we’re both feeling better. My leg isn’t a fan of the whole standing thing right now anyhow. How about I put Legally Blonde on?” 

The idea of a movie instead had sounded better to Layla. As much as she wanted to throw knives at a target, she also didn’t really want to move either. She had gotten into a few tight spots on her journey north from Tennessee, but nothing as intense as she had currently been in.

Deciding to sit back down, she eased her way back into the nice, worn couch, “Guess I didn’t anticipate how painful broken ribs could be.” She sighed. Though she had been excited about going outside, until her body told her no, she had let what Celeste said swim around in her head. Her parents had a knack for forcing her into situations she didn’t want to be in and killing and hunting things was one of them. But for a moment, she tried to put herself in Ariana’s shoes, wondering what it would be like to be raised by Celeste, instead of her parents, and it brought a soft smile to her face. It also brought sadness into her heart knowing she never would have met her girlfriend had life been different, “Do you ever wish life could be different?” She didn’t want to offend or upset the woman, but she was curious. “Like if your parents had just been normal and you could just be normal?”

The weight of Layla’s question sat on her. Celeste knew the answer wasn’t quite so simple. Even when they were on the run, the bond she’d built with Ariana was something she cherished. In a lot of ways, she felt the young wolf saved her from a much darker path, but had she just been from a normal family, Ariana would probably still be living happily and peacefully with hers. Or maybe she wouldn’t have. It was hard to say. She chewed her lip as she thought it over. “That’s not an easy one, kid.” 

She wrapped her arms around her knees as she went on, “In darker moments, sure, I’ve wished things were different. That I could worry about solely normal things, but when I really think about it, I wouldn’t trade what I’ve gained in place of and because of any of that pain. Even if things are complicated, I’ve loved being able to take care of Ariana.” With a glance around the living room, which was becoming filled with all of their things, she was reminded of the kindness the world had to offer even when things seemed bleak. “Things are a bit rough right now with the whole bounty thing, but there’s still light in it all. Take Ulfric, taking all of us in, even given what I am and what you were raised to be. It doesn’t mean things aren’t hard, but I think it’s important to remember that there’s good even in the bad. At least, I’ve found it helps.” 

Layla had been struggling to see the good in things, especially in people. The way she had been treated after the bite had broken her heart. The only person who had continued to show her kindness had been Frankie, and even that led to her making a dire decision that had wrecked their relationship, because of the consequences of Layla being a baby werewolf. But after she had fled her home, it was relying on other people and packs that had allowed Layla to see some of the true hatred, anger, and self-concern that lived in some people. Being shunned felt horrible, and on most days, she had found fending for herself a way to protect her heart, rather than taking a chance on strangers who continually seemed to let her down. It’s why she still found doubt in Ariana, Celeste, and Ulfric sometimes, wondering if there were more selfish motives at play, instead of what was best for Layla, “I’m glad that you guys have each other, and that Ulf was able to take you in, even with his instincts probably screaming no.” She had thought about Celeste’s answer. Had taken it to heart even, but it was still hard to fully give herself to these people, when she had only known them for less than a month, and it’s why she still remained closed off to what they had to offer to her most of the time for fear of what lay just around the corner.

Celeste remained quiet for a moment. As odd as their current situation was, she was grateful for Ulfric. It was obvious enough he was weary of her though he did his best to hide, but he’d made it clear he’d do anything to keep Ariana safe. There was a good chance things would get dangerous when her parents arrived. No matter what happened, it was a comfort to know that Ariana would have Ulfric. It was a darker thought. Even so, she didn’t mind acknowledging it. She gave Layla a somewhat wistful look, hoping for the day when they could have their own home again. With a weak smile, she explained, “Ulfric has shown us a great deal of kindness. I know Ariana is very attached to him and it’s evident he’s very protective of her. I know his instincts are against my very existence, but I admire his ability to overlook that and focus on the greater cause. He’s very keen on protecting both of you the best he can.” If her parents could hear her now, they’d probably slap her or worse. She hoped it offered some comfort to Layla knowing that Ulfric was inclined to protect both of them. It must have been some sort of pack instinct that he took to heart. She had to be grateful for it. “Trust takes time, though. One day, I’m sure we’ll all learn to trust each other,” she offered. These things took time, but she had no doubt one day Layla would realize that they all wanted to be here for support.

Celeste seemed well beyond her years with the advice she had given Layla, and the young wolf knew that it was all from the heart. The doubt that filled her mind was hard to break but sitting next to someone who reminded her so much of herself was reassuring. She listened intently as the woman explained things to her, including trust. And it was true. It would take time. Layla hadn’t known Ulfric like Celeste and Ariana had. She barely knew Celeste, but they had taken a chance on her. And Ariana was quickly becoming a friend she could whole-heartedly trust and rely on. Yes, the fact that she wasn’t out with the wolves investigating had stung a little, but she had her own inner demons to work on. However, tonight was supposed to be something different. Celeste had promised her a movie, and Layla had turned it into something more serious, but she was ready to move past that. At least for the time being, “You’re right. It does, and this was supposed to be a fun night. Not Baby Wolf moping night. I’m sorry. I’ve got a bad habit of doing that.” She glanced around wondering where they kept the movies, “You said something about Legally Blonde?” A movie and a good laugh were something they had both needed, and the night was still young. No, Layla wasn’t learning how to wolf, but she was learning how to become the one thing she was so desperately trying to cling to, being a better human, and who better than to learn from, but a human herself.

#para: go our own way #celestelavie #wickedswriting #abuse tw

[secret-blacklight-domain777]

Drew McDowall speaks to Chloé Lula about new solo album Agalma and the reissue of Coil’s 1999 opus Musick To Play In The Dark

21 years after its initial release, Coil’s Musick To Play In The Dark is being remastered and reissued by US label Dais. The release coincides with ex-member Drew McDowall’s fourth solo album Agalma – which he describes as an extension of the ritualistic practices that were “woven into Coil’s DNA”. Like the industrial group’s later work Agalma drips with spectral textures, angelic backing vocals and glitchy cinematic sweeps formed from warped field recordings and modular processing. Here, he reflects on finding inspiration in solitude, the insidiousness of the patriarchy and the power of synchronicity in music and in life.

Chloé Lula: Musick To Play In The Dark has been hailed as the point at which Coil pivoted from “sun music” to “moon music”. According to Jhonn Balance, it was motivated by a desire to “let in things you had shut out before: the feminine. The tidal. The cyclical”.

Drew McDowall: Musick To Play In The Dark kind of put the stamp on a process that was happening for a couple of years with Coil. Balance and Sleazy’s music was considered kind of solar as it related to an album like Scatology with a queer, male energy. During the period that I was involved as an official member, from about ‘94 or ‘95, we began investigating lunar energies, like with Moon’s Milk or Under An Unquiet Skull, one of the Solstice/Equinox 7"s, I think the driver behind this shift was our distaste and distrust of the patriarchy, both from a cultural point of view and from an occult point of view. Musick was a conscious effort to tap into lunar, traditionally feminine energies. And in an occult sense, to move away from the ostensibly solar, patriarchal, hierarchical Crowleyian aspect of the occult into the more fluid, chaotic, unconscious practices of Austin Osman Spare.

Not a lot of people know this, but Balance and Sleazy would always say grace before a meal, and they would always give thanks to the Goddess. They did that almost as long as I knew them. I kind of liked that. So it was about those energies that only really come out in the dark, that are less blatant and present and in your face. It was a process, it wasn’t a sharp delineation. But Musick was when that crystallised, and in that sense it was an album that was completely moon music.

What were your specific contributions to the album?

It was really fragmented. I’d moved to New York after living in London for 15 years, and was dealing with a lot of chemical issues, drug issues, whatever. I went back to work on Musick, but my imbalance had gotten so extreme that I could only be awake during the nighttime hours and was asleep during the daytime. Their studio was in Weston-super-Mare, this decrepit seaside town. They’d gotten sick of London, and they wanted to get Balance away from all of the temptations that he was prey to. It was kind of an attempt to save his life, really. They had this huge Victorian mansion on a hillside overlooking this wonderful bay, the River Severn.

Balance, Sleazy, and Thighpaulsandra worked in the studio on the bones and the structure and the stratum of these tracks during the day, and I would stagger out of whatever comatose stupor I was in in the evening and just take what they’d done and process it and rework it. It was a way I wasn't used to working with Coil, but I think it added something – some kind of psychosis or strange pathology to the recordings. Back then – this was ‘99 – granular synthesis wasn’t really readily available. We’d gotten a hold of some prototype stuff that was really not very easy to use. They didn’t have the nice interface that you have now. But that was part of the fun. I was also taking things and running the material through different filters and synths that we had in the studio. I would leave the files on one of the computer desktops and go to bed. We’d cross each other’s paths in the morning, have breakfast and chat for a bit, and then I’d go to sleep while they worked for the rest of the day.

I’ve read that what you generated through granular synthesis was intended to sound like a fire. What was the idea behind that?

It was almost a kind of ritual aspect, like being around a ritual fire, or a primitive fire, and tapping into what we were and where we came from. If memory serves me right, those were some of the conversations that we had, fire being this idea of being in a glade or an opening in the forest around a fire, and having that sound, the smell and the sight of it. We could only really capture the sound of it, but hopefully we managed to create the effect of the whole experience.

You’ve mentioned to me that you like to go to upstate New York when you want to work on your solo material now. How do isolated settings, like the Catskills or Weston-super-Mare, impact your ability to tap into highly creative states?

We [Coil] loved to get out of the city and go to places like Avebury. We would take day trips or trips for a couple of days and visit stone circles. Back then, in the mid- to late-90s, they weren’t quite the Instagrammable tourist hellholes that they are now. So you could really get to these places that you weren’t allowed to be in, and you’d either cut through a fence or just walk into these places that weren’t even fenced off, for the most part. Getting out like that was a lot of our inspiration prior to doing any recording. Especially when we all lived in London, it was so vital to get out and get into the forests and connect with Pan. That was part of Coil’s methodology, and I kind of carried it over into the way that I work now. If I’m not recording upstate, I’m doing a lot of the pre-recording meditation there and getting myself ready, either psychedelically or mentally or physically or whatever. Or even doing some of the recording if not the whole album. The album that Nicky [Hiro Kone] and I did [The Ghost of George Bataille] was recorded entirely upstate in the Catskills.

You helped remaster both volumes of Musick. Is there anything notably different about these reissues?

We remade Musick into a double album and added a really beautiful etching on one side. All of the Dais reissues sound even better than the originals, thanks to Josh Bonati who remastered them. Corners were cut a little bit in some of the original packaging, and the print quality wasn't as good back then. So not only does Musick sound better, but it looks absolutely gorgeous because we got all of the original files for the artwork and gave them the kind of high-resolution, beautifully packaged reissue that it deserves.

What was it like to revisit the material? Are the guiding principles behind it still relevant 20 years later?

I think they might be even more relevant today, if anything. There’s this massive pushback into this really regressive patriarchal state worldwide. Obviously we see it here in the USA, but in Poland, Hungary – all of those places. It feels like patriarchy’s last death spasm. Unfortunately, as we all know with male rage and white rage, the death spasm can take everything down with it. And while it’s unquestionably a good thing that it feels like its death spasm, we should be aware that it will try to destroy the planet in its desire to not give up power. I think that’s in the nature of patriarchy. It would rather burn the planet to cinders than cede its position. Patriarchy and white supremacy both being intermeshed in the same thing. Things felt apocalyptic back then too, do you know what I mean? But now there is no hiding from as it really feels like everything’s spiraling and whiplashing into oblivion.

I really hadn’t listened to Musick very much, because the process of making it was often very traumatic. And dramatic. I didn’t hear it until about two years after it was released. So when we were listening to what we had during the process of having it remastered, it was kind of mind-blowing. There are moments of darkness, but there are moments of really delicate sweetness, like “Broccoli”, where Sleazy is singing in his soft and sort of adorable voice about vegetables.

I hear similarities between songs like “Are You Shivering?” on Musick and “Agalma II” on your new album. There’s so much going on in their sense of depth, space, and evolution, and their allusions to familiar instruments combined with granular glitch.

That wasn’t deliberate, but it’s kind of inevitable. I added to Coil’s DNA, but Coil added to my DNA as well. There’s something we tapped into that I want to keep exploring. That never changes – this feeling that the work is never done, the mission is never complete. You can always go deeper or explore more, or take it in different directions.

In past interviews, you’ve talked about how your music as part of Coil and as a solo artist has aimed to trace various dissociative states.

I disassociate very easily. And rather than fighting it, I try to use it as a wellspring – as fertile ground for the work that I do. That’s always been a process, and always been part of the work or part of the inspiration for the work. I took my inspiration from those states that we all experience, that we can’t really put a name to. There are moments that fall short of language, and when we try and pin these moments down, it feels like we’re trying to hold water in our hands and it’s slipping out, and we feel adrift. So the idea with Agalma was to try and capture those moments. I guess the closest that I could come to putting a word on it was trying to capture the feeling of the sublime. Not just beauty, but joy, terror, dread. It was partly that. And the working title of the album was Ritual Music. That’s another thing that’s kind of been woven into my DNA from being with Coil. All of the music that we did was ritual music, and everything I’ve done since then has been a form of ritual music.

Agalma feels improvisational in its sense of chaos, but controlled enough to indicate planning, arrangement, and methodology. How did you put it together?

I’m not a very rigorous conceptualist. For me, it’s really trial and error and serendipity. Some of the inspirations or methodology might be that I’ll take the particular architecture of a dream and translate that sonically. Or it might just be a process of iteration, which is really my main workflow: manipulating what I’m doing to the point that something else is revealed in it, something that was trying to get out – that I was consciously cajoling or persuading to speak to me – or else something that just pops up unexpectedly, and I’m like, “This is where this piece is trying to take me”. I might take something through the modular and put it through different processes on the computer, then send it back into the modular. A lot of what I find really rewarding is field recordings. There are a lot of field recordings in my work that don’t even sound like field recordings. I kind of like that, where it’s not immediately apparent what something is.

What were some of the field recordings you used on this album?

I was in Naples a couple of years ago staying in this incredible apartment building that was carved into the side of a hill. I spent hours just recording in the marbled hallways. I got a ton of really good field recordings that I then shaped using the modular. You can’t really listen to it and say, “Oh, that sounds like a voice”. It just sounds like traces and resonances of something. But it’s really hard to pinpoint what it is you’re listening to.

Eight out of nine tracks on Agalma feature contributions from other artists. How did you choose who to work with?

This album started to take shape in my head last year, before I started recording. I really wanted to work with people that inspired me. I wanted to work with people I had that sense of trust with. I didn’t give anyone any guidelines, but everything just gelled in a way that felt really magical and weird.

We’ve talked quite a bit about subverting the patriarchy and being an outsider. Are your collaborations motivated by a desire to mine that feeling of operating from the margins?

That’s interesting. All the collaborators on the record are friends. That was one of the important things. My personal connections with people are always predicated on the idea of this affinity of outsiderness. Alterity. When I meet someone I like, I get the sense that they’re also kind of an outsider. Even if it’s not, like, explicit, there’s always a strand. For this record, it just felt that those were the voices who I really felt a presence with.

One of the feelings that I was also trying to explore and skirt around the edges of, or have in some way in my brain, was the sense of the sacred, and to really reconnect with that idea. And not in any religious terms. That’s something that was very, very much part of Coil. Even though their focus changed for me, I still see it as going back to the albums that preceded my involvement. Coil always had a strong sense of the sacred, and it wasn’t in any Sky God sense. It was in the sense of a sacred materiality. Like “sacred” in the Bataille sense of the word. That’s always been part of my work, but with this I wanted to make it more up-front.

It’s powerful when the act of following a kind of altered, oneiric logic leads to moments of synchronicity.

Those moments have to be valued and not just dismissed as coincidence or something mundane. There are moments of just huge resonance that we’re often not aware of at the time – like the moment feels loaded in a way that we can’t immediately put our finger on. But sometimes months or even years later, we see them as points where our life changed and we started on a different path. We do ourselves a huge disservice to just write them off to chance or happenstance or accidents. What they are I don’t know, but I think they’re much more meaningful than just randomness.

Agalma is available via Dais now. Musick To Play In The Dark is released on 27 November

By Chloé Lula

[talpup]

Erase the Shadow: 9

Please remember, this fic is rated explicit and has warnings of sex, violence, and other possible triggers.

***If you prefer reading off AO3 here’s the link for that: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22027552/chapters/54545182

I write for my own enjoyment, but edit and post for yours.  If you enjoyed reading this at all please comment and let me know.  It’s the only thing that encourages me to keep editing and posting.

Thank you to those who have left hearts.  And a VERY special thank you to those who have recently left comments or re-blogged. They really mean a lot.

As always, an extra special thank you to @inorganicone2230 for their encouragement and friendship.  This fic was my personal guilty pleasure, and without them never be getting posted. If it weren’t for our brainstorming sessions I probably wouldn’t be updating today.  Your help with Nemuri's backstory and encouraging my thoughts and plan with the Void have been a HUGE help.  Thank you!

9.1

Shouta’s class of 3-A dismissed, Teris turned to him.  “Can I ask you something?”

Shouta lifted his eyes from the paper he was grading and waited till the final student had exited.  “Of course.”

“Do you not trust me with your class?”

“What? Of course I do.”

“Then you doubt my teaching ability.”

“I do not.”  Shouta said, lowering the red pen.  “Why would you think that?”

“We’re in the third week of school and you’ve yet to leave the classroom when I come in to teach.”

Shouta's mouth suddenly felt dry.

She had noticed.  Of course she noticed, he thought.  You sit at your desk listening to her voice during the lecture segment of her strategics lesson.  How could she not notice?

“I don’t teach ethics on Friday’s.” Shouta said, lamely.

“And grading papers while I’m talking is preferable to the teachers lounge?”

“You’re not in here talking the entire time.”  Shouta remarked, glad when his voice didn’t sound as disappointed by that as he felt.  “In case you haven’t noticed the teachers lounge can get almost as rowdy as the cafeteria.

“Right. Sorry.”  Teris turned back to the podium.

Shouta could tell by the way she moved that she still didn’t fully believe him. “If I doubted your trustworthiness or ability as a teacher I would’ve mentioned something to Principle Nedzu.”

She looked at him out of the corner of her eye.  “Did you?”

“If I did he clearly didn’t listen.”  Shouta said, dryly.

Teris smirked.

Shouta got to his feet and moved around his desk.  “Look.  If I had any real concerns about you I would say something.  At the very least I would join you out in the training yard for the practical part of your lesson instead of staying in grading papers.”

“True.”

He saw the slight tension in her shoulders ease and was grateful that he had never given into the urge to go watch her put his class through their paces.

“You shouldn’t care so much what people think.”  Shouta said.

Teris looked back at him, scowling. “I don’t.”

“You cared what I thought.”

“You’re not people.”  Teris’ eyes widened.

Shouta’s heart did that funny little stutter step it did whenever he saw her. “I know most think me a grouch or a gremlin, Shadow, but that doesn’t mean I’m not a person.”

“People think that because you are a grouch and a gremlin, Eraser.”

The blushing heat in her cheeks only grew when he gave her a fraction of a smile, blinking slowly at her.

She turned back around, ducking her head till her hair shielded her face from view.

What she wouldn’t give for something like his capture weapon to hide behind.  The thought had her mind imagining what it would feel like wearing it.  Would it carry his warmth?  His scent?  Her thoughts took a less wholesome turn and she cleared her throat.

“I gotta admit I was a bit surprised at how many students you still had in your class.”  She said while needlessly shuffling papers.

“Those lacking potential are weeded out the first few weeks of their first year.  Anyone expelled after that is usually re-enroll the following day.”

“A sort of wake-up call.”

Shouta lifted a shoulder and nodded.

“You know that stays on their school record.”

“As it does on mine.”  He grinned.

“That’s how you have so many student expulsions yet still have a class to teach!”  She said, realization dawning.  “I wondered at those numbers.  Figured you were walking around expelling students from other classes.”

“You read my file?”  Shouta questioned.

He didn’t tell her that he had expelled students from other classes. As director of the hero course he had that ability.  Much to Kan’s annoyance.

“Well… Yeah.”  Why was she blushing again?  “I read the files of everyone I would be working with.”

“Hey, Babe.” Hizashi called, entering.

“Mic.” Teris answered, pointedly.

“Sorry. Shadow.”  Hizashi corrected himself.

Teris rolled her eyes.  School was over and it was Friday so the hallways were mostly empty.  Still, her boyfriend had to learn to keep it professional while at work.  Though after three weeks of school that seemed unlikely.

“I’m gonna go get ready.  You sure you’ll be fine getting there with Nemuri?”  Hizashi asked.

“I’m an adult, Yamada.  I’d be fine getting there without Kayama.”

Hizashi knew it was because they were still on campus, but he didn’t like Teris referring to him so formally.  “It’s a big city with lots of villains.”

“And I’m a pro hero.”  Teris countered.

It wasn’t as if she didn’t know her way around town.  Heck, she had begun taking patrols two weeks before school began.  Much to Hizashi's chagrin.

“Baby.”

“Mic.”

“Shadow.” Hizashi corrected.

Shouta watched the two mildly amused by their banter despite the usual hurt and annoyance he felt.

“Yes. Midnight and I will be going together.”  Teris relented.

“Awesome!” Hizashi stole a quick kiss.  “I’ll leave your names at the back door that way you won’t have’ta mess with the lines out front.”

He practically barreled through Nemuri on his way out.

Nemuri shook her head and entered.  “He’s so sweet, Ris.  I don’t know why you give him such a hard time.  He’s only looking out for you as any good boyfriend should.”

“You heard all that, huh.”

Nemuri slipped up beside Shouta a smile on her lips.

“Although,” Nemuri drew out, wrapping her arms around Shouta's, “the club is on a somewhat sketchy side of town.  It wouldn’t hurt to have a big, strong man there to protect us.”

“Kayama. You know Aizawa doesn’t like dance clubs.  We’ll be fine.”

“Who are you?  His girlfriend?  Let the man decide for himself.” Nemuri turned to Shouta and grinned.  “What do you say, Eraser? Wanna go out with two hot girls?  Make sure no one dances too close or touches things they shouldn’t?”

Shouta swallowed.

A possessive wave raced through him at the thought of someone touching and grinding up against Teris.  What had he planned to do tonight anyway?  Feed the stray cats that lived in the alley behind his apartment.  Grade more papers and work on lesson plans. Watching Teris dance sounded like a far better evening.

“I’ll go.”  Shouta mumbled.

Teris blinked in surprise. “Really?”

“I haven’t seen Mic DJ in a over a year.”  Shouta said with an easy shrug.

“Pick us up at my place in a couple hours.”  Nemuri said, stepping away from Shouta and pushing Teris out the door.  “Wear something other than the usual, Eraser.”

9.2

Shouta had never been one to fuss about what he wore.

His wardrobe consisted mostly of black with a few various items of grey.  There was the exception of the three pairs of pink track pants that he had purchased on-line late one night while running on too little sleep and far too much coffee. But given the clearance price he had paid for them, he was somewhat proud of the buy despite the unfortunate color.

Having everything pretty much one color made things easy on him.  He didn’t have to concern himself with trivial things such as matching stuff up.  The fact that he had several copies of the same top and pants meant that he didn’t have to fuss about what he was going to wear. Until now…

He knocked on Nemuri's door still annoyed that she had made him worry about what to wear.  He still was sure what she had meant by, something other than the usual.   A different fabric or cut of pants? A different color top?  Different shoes?

Just to be safe he had changed up all three, choosing to wear dark denim with a charcoal grey button up and a different set of black work boots.

Nemuri answered the door.  “We’re almost ready.”

“I didn’t expect you to be ready.”  Shouta drawled, entering the apartment.

“Hey! I would've been if Teris had been more agreeable.”

“You wanted me to dress like a slut!”  Teris’ voice sounded from Nemuri's bedroom.

“Slut! I wear that outfit all the time.”  Nemuri said, leaving Shouta to his own devices as she made her way back to the bedroom.

Shouta sat down and tried to calm his nerves.  He didn’t know why he was so nervous.  It wasn’t as if this were a date.  He wouldn’t even be alone with Teris.  Nemuri would be there.

But Hizashi wouldn’t, he thought. Well he would but he would be on stage doing his thing, Shouta's mind corrected.

The thought of being with Teris outside of work without Hizashi present excited him. Not that he was going to try anything.  He respected Teris and his friendship with Hizashi too much for that.

“We’re ready.”  Nemuri sang, exiting the bedroom several minutes latter.

Shouta turned.  At the sight of Teris he rose to his feet.

She looked...amazing.  An unpleasant wave of jealousy washed through him at the thought of other people seeing her like that.

“Tell us we look pretty, Shouta.” Nemuri prodded with a knowing smile.

“You look..”  Beautiful.  “Very pretty.”  Shouta said, dark eyes on Teris.

They were stopped at the clubs back door by a bored looking bouncer.

“Go around the front if you wanna get in.”

“Present Mic said he would leave you our names.”  Nemuri said, pushing forward.

The Bouncer reached into his back pocket and took out his phone. “Names.”

“It should be under Teris.”  Nemuri supplied.

The Bouncer’s eyes lifted from the phone.  “It say girlfriend: Teris, plus one.”

“Yeah, and?”

His eyes moved between Nemuri and Teris.  “Which one of you is the girlfriend?”

“I am.”  Teris said, raising her hand slightly.

“Look,” the Bouncer sighed, “I’m normally don’t care but your boyfriend draws a huge crowd.  Everyone loves Present Mic.  So when it says plus one, I’m gonna have ta hold it at that.  Pick one of your friends and send the other home.”

“Excuse me?”

Nemuri held a silencing hand up to Teris.  Chewing the guy out was unnecessary.

“Trust me.  If Mic had known that her boyfriend was getting in a day early he would’ve said plus two.”

“Her boyfriend?”  The Bouncer repeated, furrowing his brow at Nemuri before glancing back at Teris.

“What? You’ve never heard the term poly-ship before? You gonna judge Mic for being a confident guy who shares his girl?  Are you gonna hate on Mic’s girlfriend for having two boyfriends?”  Nemuri asked crossing her arms.

“N—n—no! Of course not!”  The Bouncer stepped out of the doorway.

Nemuri grabbed Teris by the hand and pulled her inside. “I know you miss Shouta, Ris, but try not to get yourself off dry humping him in the middle of the dance floor like last time.”

Shouta stepped passed the Bouncer, keenly aware of the man’s wide following gaze.

“Have a good night.”  The Bouncer called after them in a daze.

Nemuri turned back and smiled.  “I already am, Sweetie.  Thanks!”

“I can’t believe you did that!”  Teris squeaked, pulling her hand from Nemuri's as soon as they were out of sight.

“Yes you can.  You know me too well.”  Nemuri countered.  “What about you, Shou?”  She looked back at Shouta.  “Wanna scold me for getting you in without a fuss?”

“I wouldn’t say it was without a fuss.”  Shouta muttered rubbing the back of his neck.

He missed his capture weapon.  At least the lighting in here was dim enough that the blush he felt heating his face hopefully wasn’t too noticeable.

“Well the guy said the place would be packed so we better stake out some seats.” Nemuri said.

“You came to sit.”  Shouta remarked.

“No. But comfortable as these heels are I’m gonna have to take a break once or twice.  Plus, I know for a fact that you’re not gonna dance.”  She looked over her shoulder at him.  “You can look after my purse while you watch me and Teris from afar.  You’re good at that.”

“What? At watching your purse?”  Teris scoffed, as she was once again dragged behind Nemuri.

Shouta felt his ears heat along with his cheeks that time and was glad that he hadn’t tied up his hair.

It was both a relief and quite bothersome how oblivious Teris was.  But given that she was currently with Hizashi, Shouta was glad that she hadn’t picked up on Nemuri's none to subtle taunting.

He didn’t know what Nemuri wanted from him.  It wasn’t as if he could flirt or ask out his best friend's girlfriend.  Painful as all of this was, he wouldn’t even attempt to break Hizashi and Teris up. He had been friend's with Hizashi too long for that.

Besides, Teris was his soulmate.  If Hizashi didn’t ruin things himself, she would break things off with him eventually. She and Hizashi weren’t meant to be together.  Everything would work out.

At least that’s what Shouta kept telling himself.

9.3

The warm-up DJ was still going when Hizashi sent Teris a text.

Hizashi: Send me a pic of your beautiful self and tell me where you’re sitting.

A few minutes later his phone dinged.

Teris: Stage right, not too far from the bar.  Give you one guess whose idea that was.

Even if Teris hadn’t come with only Nemuri, Hizashi would’ve known who had made that decision.

Then his phone dinged again and he saw that it wasn’t just Teris and Nemuri.  The picture was a group shot of his smiling girlfriend and Nemuri with Shouta squished in between them.

His smiled tightened, a bolt of irritation striking through him.

Shouta hated dance clubs.  What was he doing here?  Scratch that.  He knew exactly what his best friend was doing here.

His fingers hit the touch pad a little harder as he typed.

Hizashi: I said a pic of your beautiful self.  Not you and two losers.  LOL.

His phone dinged, but the text was from Nemuri not a reply from Teris.

Nemuri: You’re just jealous that your hot gf is down here with your bff while you’re up there working.  Make that bank Baby.  Maybe then you can treat your girl to something special and hot, sexy Zawa won’t steal her away.

“Everything alright, Present Mic?”

Hizashi looked up from his phone.

“A-okay!” He said giving a thumbs up and one of his signature smiles to the clubs entertainment director.

“You’re on in two minutes.”  The Director said.

“Awesome!” Hizashi glanced back at his phone.

Nemuri: Come on Zashi. I was playing.  Say something.  Ris is mad at me. ;(

Hizashi: Something.

9.4

As the night wore on and he had consumed a few drinks on a relatively empty stomach, Teris and Nemuri were able to talk Shouta into going out on the dance floor with them.

It was kind of nice… Okay really nice.  Even if all he did was stand still while Teris and Nemuri dance around him.

He couldn’t take his eyes off the woman that he loved.  He was enthralled. Hypnotized by the way Teris moved.  The swing of her hips.  The sway of her hair.  The slight bounce of her breasts.

He practically lost it the first time her arms wrapped around his neck, her body moving to the music.  His own arms twitched, wanting to wrap around her waist.  But before he got up the nerve she had spun around and moved back to Nemuri.

She had returned to him a number of times after.  Smiling and breathless, her hands either running up his chest, over his shoulders, or down his back.  It was the most glorious feeling in the world.

For those few moments while her hands were on him as she danced, Shouta could pretend that they were together.  And during the few occasions when someone came up to her, he was able to stop them from touching her.

Sure he had to suffer through Hizashi touching her. But out here on the dance floor while Hizashi was on stage, he could stop any other guy from getting too close.

Nemuri thankfully didn’t say a thing during those times.  While Teris had merely thanked him for shooing off the unwanted attention.

Shouta was both bothered and grateful that Teris undoubtedly saw it as him protecting his best friend's girlfriend.  But there was little that he could do about that.  Just as there was little he could do about Teris leaving him at the end of the night to go back with Hizashi to the apartment they shared together.

9.5

Nemuri was in bed asleep but fully aware and conscious of the dream that she was having.  She hated it when the Void interrupted and visited her dreams.  And it had been such a good dream too.

Unfortunately the dark force’s visitations had been happening more frequently.

“Must I show you what will happen if you fail to bring Teris and Aizawa together?”  The Void questioned.

Nemuri stared at the black silhouette.  “No.  And it’s not as if I’m not trying.  These things take time.  After all, you were the one who told me to help get Yamada and her together.  I can’t just break them up and put her and Shouta together like a couple of puzzle pieces.  They’re people with their own thoughts and feelings.”

“It’s Teris’ lacking feelings for Yamada Hizashi that are the issue.  She needs to feel much more deeply if her quirk is to grow.”

“I still don’t understand what you mean.  Quirk training--”

“This has nothing to do with strengthening the so called muscle of her quirk.”  The Void said over her.

Knowing that he wouldn’t tell her even if she asked him to explain, Nemuri pleaded.  “Just give me time.  Please.  Teris likes Shouta.  She loves him. She’s had a thing for him since UA.  The two of them would probably be married high school sweethearts if you hadn’t had me ruin things between them.”

She was unable to keep the bitterness from her voice at that.

Though it had been years, she still felt guilty for letting Teris continue to talk about Shouta’s attempted kiss and cheesy tale about soulmates when she had known that Kan had been listening.

At least Kan had gossiped the story so she hadn’t had to.  She didn’t want to think about how much worse her guilt would’ve been if she had had to blatantly break her friend's trust by spreading the story herself.

“I had hoped to keep Aizawa well away from her.”  The Void said.

It was inconvenient that the only man who seemed capable of making Teris’ quirk grow was also capable of canceling out her quirk.

After all this time trying to keep Aizawa away from Teris, it appeared as if the boy who shared Teris’ dreams was now the only man capable of doing what he needed.  He needed Teris’ quirk to grow, not strengthen. And in order for that to happen he needed Teris to lose herself.  He needed someone to elicit a deep and powerful emotional reaction in her.  A reaction that was raw and primal.

“I will give you more time.  But I demand progress.  Remember, I saved you when your mother’s boyfriends turned their lecherous eyes to you.  I’m the one who put it in your head to become a hero.”

Only because you wanted me to get close to Teris, Nemuri thought.  She loved being a hero but given the lifestyle she had grown up in the idea to become one never would've crossed her mind if it wasn’t for the Void.

She hated that she owed being a pro hero to him and his prodding.  It was far from the greatest thing she hated about the Void, but it was the one that stuck with her and stung the most.

“If you fail me, I will leave you like I did those men who looked at you with lust when your mother wasn’t watching. Locked in a loop of your own personal hell while the world thinks you’re nothing but a poor brainless coma patient.”

Nemuri's voice trembled as she promised.  “I won’t fail you.”

“Good. And just in case you doubt me, I will leave you with a small taste of what awaits you should you do.”

9.6

It was the final weekend off before the second semester of school began and Nemuri had planned an evening out with three of her closest friends.

“I love that you’ve been joining us for more things, Shouta.” Nemuri beamed, bumping his shoulder playfully.

Shouta ignored her and tried to ignore the way Hizashi had just shoved his tongue into Teris’ mouth.

He honestly didn’t know why he started accepting his friend’s invitations.  Yes, he wanted to see and spend time more with Teris.  But Hizashi was always there with his hands all over her.

It was torture.  And since he didn’t have to be there, it was all self induced. But try as he might to stay away, he couldn’t.

“You wouldn’t happen to be hanging out with us more often because a certain someone rejoined our group, would you, Shou?” Nemuri teased quietly.

Shouta's eyes turned to Nemuri's sparkling blue.  “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Across the table from the two of them, Teris pulled away from Hizashi's kiss.

Try as she might not to glance in Shouta's direction, she couldn’t help herself. She wasn’t all that comfortable with PDA to begin with; but when Shouta was around, that discomfort rose exponentially.

It wasn’t that she didn’t love kissing Hizashi or having his hands on her, but there was a time and place.  And that place was most definitely not in front of Shouta.

“Zashi. Settle down.”  She chided.

“Just give us a kiss, Ris Wren.”

Teris turned her face when Hizashi tried to kiss her again.

Hizashi nuzzled her neck.

Teris’ fingers threaded through his loose hair and tugged.

Hizashi was close enough that she heard his needy whine.

“I need to behave for me, Sunshine.”

Teris leaned closer and Hizashi licked his lips.  For a second he thought that she was going to kiss him, but at the last moment she diverted.

Her hair brushed the side of his face as she spoke in his ear.  “It was your idea to accept Nemuri's offer of drinks.  I was fine with staying home.”

“But--”

She gave his hair another tug.  “So now you have to be good.”

Hizashi wrapped an arm around her waist and tugged at her. “But I need to touch you, Baby.”

“If you’re good and behave for me I’ll do that thing you wanted to try.”

Hizashi's eyes widened.  He had been wanting to roleplay but despite his attempts to talk her around, Teris had thus far remained against it.

“You mean it?”  He asked.

Teris gave his lips a quick peck. “You know I don’t say things unless I mean them.”

“Yeah!” Hizashi exclaimed.

Teris grimaced when people from nearby tables turned, having heard Hizashi's cheer despite the loud drone of conversation and music.

“I still can’t get over how cute you two are together!”  Nemuri gushed over Hizashi and Teris.  She elbowed Shouta who sat to her right.  “Aren’t they cute together, Shou?”

Shouta scowled at both Nemuri's treatment and words.

Cute was not the how he would describe Hizashi and Teris being together. Painful.  Grating.  Maddening. He had never wanted to punch his best friend in the face so badly till the day that he had learned Hizashi was dating the woman he loved. And that desire had only grown as their relationship continued.

He hated that Hizashi was with Teris.  Hated that his best friend seemed to make his soulmate happy.  Hated the way Hizashi looked at and talked about her.  He definitely hated when Hizashi touched her.

At least Teris didn’t talk about Hizashi much when he and her were alone.  The fact that they had found themselves alone together more and more of late made Shouta smile.

“Cats are cute.”  Shouta said, knowing it would annoy Hizashi.

“Cats.” Hizashi scoffed, rolling his eyes.

Shouta chuckled.

Teris lifted her glass to Shouta and took a sip.

“Don’t encourage him by toasting that.”  Hizashi chided.

“What? I agree.  Cats are cute.”  Teris said.

“Not as cute as you.  Not as cute as we are together.”  Hizashi argued.

“That’s debatable.”  Teris said, giving Shouta a playful wink.

“What?”

Hizashi's near squawked reaction was exactly what she was expecting.  Sometimes her boyfriend was too easy.

“Depends on the cat.”  Teris smirked with a shrug.

Shouta raised his glass and toasted her, downing his drink.

“You two stop teaming up to upset poor Zashi.”  Nemuri scolded lightly.

“But it’s so easy.”  Teris said, squishing her boyfriend’s cheeks.

“I’d drink to that but I need a refill.”  Shouta quipped.

Teris laughed and Shouta chuckled.

Hizashi smiled though he felt no joy behind it.

It wasn’t that he wanted his best friend and girlfriend to hate each other, but he could admit to himself that it was nicer when the two had been so uncertain around each other that they barely spoke.  Now it almost felt as if Shouta and Teris were having secret, unspoken conversations behind every look and thing they said to each other.

“Speaking of teaming up.”  Nemuri said, resting her elbows on the table. “You two really should.”

“What?” The three of them asked, Hizashi's voice by far the loudest.

“I mean you’re both underground heroes.”  Nemuri said, glancing from Shouta to Teris.  “I admit I don’t know all that much about being an underground pro, but I would figure that trying to find new CI’s would be rough when you’re new to town.”

Shouta's eyes panned to Teris, watching her nod at that.

He hadn’t considered it, but Nemuri was right.  Starting out in a new place would be rough.  Even more so now that the streets were on edge due to the whispers of a new dark force.

Though Shouta was certain that this new force people were talking about was somehow the Void, Teris wasn’t connected to him.  At least not in the way people would assume if and when they learned that her quirk allowed her to channel darkness.

“You go out on patrol too much as it is.”  Hizashi told Teris. Gathering himself he chose his words more carefully.  “The student’s will suffer if you take on another patrol.”

“What nights do you patrol?”  Shouta asked, despite already knowing.

“Monday, Thursday, Saturday, and every other Friday.” Teris answered.

“See! Too much!”  Hizashi put in.

Ignoring Hizashi's outburst, Shouta stated. “I patrol Tuesday, Wednesday, Sunday, and every other Friday and Saturday.”

Teris was about to say that she knew that, but caught herself before she did.

“Fridays and Saturdays are the most hectic.  Working with someone else would be of benefit.”  Shouta slowly offered, knowing that she wouldn’t accept if she thought he was getting nothing out of it.

Teris turned to Hizashi.  “I wouldn’t be taking on another patrol.  And you wouldn’t worry so much.”

“Worry?” Nemuri questioned.

Teris rolled her eyes.  “It’s how he tries to guilt me into skipping out of Saturday patrols.  Says that even though I’m a capable hero, the weekends bring all the crazy's out and he worries.”

“Well problem solved.”  Nemuri smiled lifting her hands in victory.  “Shouta will go out with her and you won’t have to worry your pretty little head, Zashi.”

Hizashi quelled the urge to yell at Nemuri.

“Sure.” Hizashi smiled.  He pinned Shouta with a look that his best friend would be able to read with ease.  “You just better make sure that my girl’s returned to me untouched, you hear.”

Before Shouta could respond their waiter set a drink on the table.  “This is for you from the lady over by the patio entrance.”

“Tell her I’m happily taken.”  Hizashi said, slinging his arm over Teris’ shoulders.

“I’m sorry, Sir.”  The Waiter apologized, embarrassed on Hizashi’s behalf. “It’s not for you.  It’s for you.” He pushed the drink closer to Shouta.

“What!” Hizashi exclaimed.  “Him?”

“Go, Shouta!  I told you, you were a handsome devil.”  Nemuri grinned, elbowing him.

“I don’t want it.”  Shouta said, not even bothering to look in the direction the Waiter had gestured to.  “Take it back. Please.”

Teris had hated the jealousy that had sparked in her when the Waiter had first set the drink in front of Shouta stating it was from some woman.  But she hated more the swell of relief that had followed when Shouta denied the drink.

She was with Hizashi.  But try as she might to bury her feelings for Shouta, they wouldn’t stay covered.  It wasn’t that she didn’t love Hizashi.  Hizashi was wonderful.  Great. He made her happy.  Happier than she had been in a very long time.

But these feelings for Shouta…

She wondered if it would be easier if Shouta was with someone.  He definitely deserved to be happy.  She wanted him to be happy. But the thought of him being with someone made her anything but happy.

The two of them had slowly become closer again.  Almost like the way they had been before everything went wrong when they were at UA.  But as wonderful as the closeness was, given the way she felt, it was asking for all sorts of trouble.  Trouble she didn’t want and could easily be avoid if she kept her distance from Shouta.  Something she had promised herself she would do.

But now she had just agreed to do her Friday and Saturday patrols with him.  What had she been thinking?  She wondered if she could back out without drawing too many questions.

#bnha #aizawa shouta #shouta aizawa #hizashi yamada #yamada hizashi #eraserhead #present mic #yandere hizashi #yandere #nemuri kayama #my hero academia #erase the shadow

[abbassmeghrouss-blog]

10 Tips To Make Long-Distance Relationships Work

It’s not the foremost ideal arrangement, but long-distance relationships happen. Whether thanks to job opportunities, college, or simple economics, more and more people are having to navigate having a long-distance relationship with their partner. But how long do long-distance relationships last? Just because you're separated by distance doesn’t mean your relationship has got to end. A lot of individuals not only make it work but see their long-distance relationships thrive. Here are 10 tips for a way to form long-distance relationships work.

1. Set ground rules

The most important thing to try to early is agreeing on the principles of the long-distance relationship. How exclusive do you want to be? Sometimes people want to keep it 100% monogamous; others agree it’s okay to go out with other people. Not taking the time to agree on and set ground rules may be a big part of why long-distance relationships don’t work for a few people. But for those that make it work, setting ground rules goes an extended thanks to respecting your partner’s boundaries and having your respected reciprocally.

2. Communicate regularly, not constantly

There are a couple of tried-and-true quotes about long-distance relationships. On the one hand, you hear “absence makes the heart grow fonder” and on the other, you hear “out of sight, out of mind.” Unfortunately, both adages are true. You should keep in touch with your partner, but don’t message them constantly: that gets old real fast. A good compromise on this is often to the touch base regularly. Every day or every other day, it’s important to send just a brief “thinking of you.” Then, schedule a long call once a week to catch up on the big things.

3. Set share time

Modern life is wonderful. Even if you’re apart, you and your partner can talk face-to-face over Skype, FaceTime, or other voice call apps. For even more interactivity, you can play a video game together online, or even watch the same movie at the same time, texting commentary back and forth. Be creative. There are ways to share without being there. Successful long-distance relationships happen once you find ways to bridge the space.

4. Plan visits

Visits are the reward you get for being apart for long periods of your time. Plan to make it happen one way or another. No matter how cute you are on the phone, there is nothing comparable to physical presence. Even if it’s only for a short time, it makes the longer times between visits worth it. Of course, time and money constraints happen. Sometimes it’s not feasible to go, but make it a priority to make it happen if you can.

5. Invest time in self-care

There are both pros and cons to long-distance relationships. One of the pros is now is a good time to check-in with yourself. How are you doing? Do not neglect yourself while your partner is away from you. Go out with friends. Do things, learn things. Don’t let life pass you by. Being in a long-distance relationship is not a sentence to solitary confinement. Have adventures, and be sure to share them afterward with your partner. Talking about your interests brings you closer together. And even as importantly, let your partner do an equivalent thing. Don’t envy them their adventures and good times faraway from you.

6. Know the endgame

Know what your relationship goals are and keep track of them. How long are you planning to be apart? What happens when that time is up? Do you move to their location or do they come to yours? Set up a timeframe to figure toward together, and confirm your stay target. Or if the unexpected happens, be prepared to regulate the schedule as required. But have a definite goal and a definite end date to the separation.

7. Keep the surprises coming

The opposite of romantic is boring. Surprises (the good kind) are a must. Is your partner’s favorite band playing near them? Get them a ticket and tell them to have fun. Or, check their amazon wish list and surprise them with something from it. It’s a thoughtful thanks to keeping the surprises within the relationship alive from a distance. It’s not about spending money, though. If you’re on a budget, you'll still do something. Send an old-fashioned, snail-mail postcard. Make a mini-album of pictures from the last time you were together and send it. Again, be creative.

8. Respect your partner’s time

This is vital if you’re in two different time zones. You have to respect your partner’s schedule. Don’t schedule social calls during their work hours. Don’t mess with their sleep schedule by calling when it’s late at night for them. There are apps you can use to display your partner’s local time to help keep you mindful of it. You don’t have to adjust your schedule to meet theirs. Just don’t expect them to, either.

9. Keep your partner involved

One of the issues with long-distance relationships is when partners feel distant from one another emotionally. Part of that closeness comes with making your partner desire they're still involved in your life. No matter space, keep one another informed about important matters. This could mean happy events sort of a promotion, or more serious matters, like an illness. If you’re under stress, your partner can be your sounding board and vice versa. Remember you’re still a team, albeit you’re long-distance.

10. Keep at it

Can long-distance relationships work that easily? No, it’s not easy at all. But they will work: it just takes practice and determination. Remember that because you do not face to face, you lose an entire dimension of communication. Your words and your gestures matter much more, so make sure you talk things out if you’re having a misunderstanding. Don’t let things fester, and don’t let distance trick you into putting off bad news. Don’t hide things from each other.  

[ladyjessmusic]

TONI MORRISON TRIBUTE PROJECT AT THE SCHOMBURG :: UPDATE I

After days of procrastination, days of research-laden procrastination...

I have finally managed to at least outline, through excerpts, how I’m going to structure this tribute piece to TM. From the minute I was asked, I’ve been planning. It has been overwhelming, to say the least. How to put together something about someone who means so very very much to me? How to represent that in the most fitting way possible? ..shuddering at the idea of gaming the queen from wherever she is observing in the afterlife...

SO HERE, HERE IS THE QUOTE OUTLINE I HAVE CONCOCTED:

___

MAVIS (pg 21): 

The neighbors seemed pleased when the babies smothered. probably because the mint green Cadillac in which they died had annoyed them for some time.

___

GRACE (GIGI) (pg 65):

The man with the earring didn't come looking for her. She sought him out. Just to talk too somebody who wasn’t encased in polyester and who looked like he might smoke something other than Chesterfields. 

He was short, almost a dwarf, but his clothes were East Coast hip. His Afro was neat, not ragged, and he wore seeds of gold around his neck, one matching stud in his ear,

They stood next to each other at the snack bar, which the attendant insisted on calling the dining car. She ordered a Coke without ice and a brownie. He was paying for a large cup of ice only.

“That ought to be free,” Gig said to the man behind the counter. “He shouldn’t have to pay for the cup.”

“Excuse me, ma’am. I just follow the rules.”

“I ordered no ice. Did you deduct anything?”

“Course not.”

“Don’t trouble yourself,” the short man said.

“I ain’t troubled,” Gigi told him, and then, to the counterman: “Listen, you. Give him the ice you weren’t going to charge him for, okay?”

“Miss, do I have to call the conductor?”

“If you don’t, I will This is train robbery all right - trains robbing people.”

“It’s all right,” said the man. “Just a nickel.”

“It’s the principle,” said gig.

“A five-cent principle ain’t no principle at all. The man needs a nickel. Needs it real bad.” The short man smiled.

“I don't need nothing,” said the attendant. “It’s the rules.”

“Have two,” said the man, and flicked a second nickel into the saucer.

Gig glaring, the eagle man smiling, they left the snack bar together. She sat down across the aisle from him to expand on the incident, while the man crunched the ice.

“Gigi.” She held out her hand. “You?”

“Dice,” he said.

“Like chopping small?”

“Like pair of.”

___

SENECA

“The chauffeur had picked her up for Norma like a stray puppy. No, not even that. But like a pet you wanted to pay with for a while - a little while - but not keep. Not love. Not name it. Just feed it, play with it, then return it to its own habitat. She had five hundred dollars, and other than Eddie, no one knew where it was. Maybe she ought to keep it that way. 

Seneca hadn’t decided much of anything when she saw the first place to hide - a flatbed loaded with cement sacks. When she was discovered she was held against a tire, splicing his questions, curses and threats with mild flirtations. Seneca said nothing at first, then suddenly begged permission to go to the bathroom. “I have to go. Bad,” she said. The driver sighed and released her, shouting a final warning at her back. She hitched a few times after that but so disliked the necessary talk she accepted the risk of stowing away in trucks. She preferred traveling resolutely nowhere, closed off from society, hidden among quiet cargo - no one knowing she was there. When she found herself among crates in a brand-new ‘73 pickup, jumping out of it to follow. coatless woman was the first pointedly uninstructed thing she had ever done.”

___

DIVINE

“Let me tell you about love, that silly word you believe is about whether you like somebody or whether somebody likes you or whether you can put up with somebody in order to get something or someplace you want or you believe it has to do with how your body responds to another body like robins or bison or maybe you believe love is how forces or nature or luck is benign to you in particular not maiming or killing you but if so doing it for your own good.

Love is none of that. there is nothing in nature like it. Not in robins or bison or in the banging of tails of your hunting dogs and not in blossoms or suckling foal. Love is divine only and difficult always. If you think it is easy you are a fool. If you think it is natural you are blind. It is a learned application without reason ro motive except that it is God.

You do not deserve love regardless of the suffering you have endured. You do not deserve love because somebody did you wrong. You do not deserve love just because you want it. You can only earn-by practice and careful contemplation-the right to express it and you have to learn how to accept it. Which is to say you have to earn God. You have to practice God. You have to think God-carefully. And if you are a good and diligent student you may secure the right to show love. Love is not a gift. It is a diploma. A diploma conferring certain privileges: the privilege of expressing love and the privilege of receiving it. 

How do you know you have graduated? You don’t. What you do know is that you are human and therefore educable, and therefore capable of learning how to learn, and therefore interesting to God, who is only interested in Himself which is to say He is interested only in love. Do you understand me? God is not interested in you. He is interested in love and the bliss it brings to those who share and understand that interest. 

___

PATRICIA

“What did Daddy say to you at that AME Zion picnic? The one held for colored soldiers stationed at the base in Tennessee. How could either of you tell what the other was saying? He talking Louisiana, you speaking Tennessee. The music is so different, the sound coming from a different part of the body. It must have been like hearing lyrics set to scores by two different composers. But when you made love he must have said I love you and you understood that and it was true, too, because I have seen the desperation in his eyes ever since-no matter what business venture he thinks up.”

___

CONSOLATA

“It was while Consolata waited on the steps that she saw him for the first time. Sha sha sha. Sha sha sha. A lean young man astride one horse, leading another. His khaki shirt was soaked with sweat, and at some point he romped his wide flat hat to wipe perspiration from his forehead. His hips were rocking in the saddle, back and forth, back and forth. Sha sha sha. Sha sha sha. Consolata saw his profile, and the wing of a feathered thing, undead, fluttered in her stomach.”

...

“Casually, perfunctorily, he looked her way. Consolata looked back and thought she saw hesitation in his eyes if not in his stride. Quickly she ducked into the sun-baked Mercury, where the heat emend to explain her difficult breathing. She did not see him again for two months of time made unstable by a feathered thing fighting for wingspread.”

...

“They drove for what Consolata believed were hours, no words passing between them. The danger and its necessity focused them, made them calm. She did not know or care where headed or what might happen to them when they arrived. Speeding toward the unforeseeable, sitting next to him who was darker than the darkness they split, Consolata let the feathers unfold and come unstuck from the walls of a stone-cold womb. Out here where wind was not a help or threat to sunflowers, nor the moon a language of time, of weather, of sowing or harvesting, but a feature of the original world designed for the two of them.

Finally he slowed and turned unto a barely passable track, where coyote grass scraped the fenders. In the middle of it he braked and would have taken her in his arms except she was already there.

...

“He kisses her lightly, then leans on his elbow. “I’ve traveled. All over. I’ve never seen anything like you. How could anything be put together like you? Do you know how beautiful you are? Have you looked at yourself?

“I’m looking now.”

...

“Let your mind grow long and use what God gives you.”

...

“They had promised to take care of her always but did not tell her that always was not all ways nor forever. Prisoner wine helped until it didn’t and she found herself, full of drinker’s malice, wishing she had the strength to beat the life out of the women freeloading in the house. “God don’t make mistakes,” Lone had shouted at her. Perhaps not, but He was sometimes overgenerous. Like giving satanic gifts to a drunken, ignorant, penniless woman living in darkness unable to rise from a cot to do something useful or die on it and rid the world of her stench. Gray-haired, her eyes drained of what eyes were made for, she imagined how she must appear. Her colorless eyes saw nothing clearly except what took place in the minds of others. Exactly the opposite of that blind season when she rutted in dirt with the living man and the thought that she was seeing for the first time because she was looking so hard. But she had been spoken to, half cursed, half blessed. He had burned the green away and replaced it with pure sight that damned her if she used it.”

...

“Non sum dignus,” she whispered. “But tell me. Where is the rest of days, the aisle of thyme, the scent of veronica you promised? The cream and honey you said I earned? The happiness that comes of well-done chores, the serenity duty grants us, the blessings of good works? Was what I did for love of you so terrible?”

Mary Magna had nothing to say. Consolata listened to the refusing silence, more wondering than annoyed by the sky, in plumage now, gold and blue-green, strutting like unrequited love on the horizon. She was afraid of dying alone, ungrieved in holy ground, but knew that was precisely what lay before her. How she longed for the good death. “I’ll miss you,” she told Him. “I really will.” The skylight wavered.

...

“My child body, hurt and soil, leaps into the arms of a woman who teach me my body is nothing my spirit everything. I agreed her until I met another. My flesh is hungry for itself it ate him. When he fell away the woman rescue me from my body again. Twice he saves it. When her body sickens I care for it in every way flesh works. I hold it in my arms and between my legs. Clean it, rock it, enter it to keep it breath. After she is dead I cannot get past that. My bones on hers that only good thing. Not spirit. Bones. No different from the man. My bones on his the only true thing. So I wondering where is the spirit lost in this? It is true, like bones. It is good, like bones. One sweet, one bitter. Where is it lost? Hear me, listen. Never break them in two. Never put one over the other. Eve is Mary’s mother. Mary is the daughter of Eve.”

_______________________________________

These are the quotes I’ve chosen to use to frame the piece. These are the quotes that have struck me at my core, the pieces of this masterpiece that stick to my soul like glue (for lack of a better way to describe the intensity with which these vignettes travel my bloodstream). 

The plan is to structure cells that apply to each character. Within each cell, I will record an idée fixe that works for each character of the novel, each representing a different nuance that any black woman may or may not experience.  

This morning was the first time that I’d even conceived of using the cadenza I wrote to accompany the CSG Concerto in G. In lieu of a standard cadenza, I wrote my own. The work exits as a standalone piece as well, and I wrote it, contextually, from a place that gives consideration to the emotional profile of CSG’s mother, a free slave from Guadeloupe. It’s incredible how this writing, hundreds of years later, completely removed from the life of its author, or from my own, can serve as such a powerful link between cognizant realities.

[republicstandard]

Fight For The Future: Nationalism, White Identity, and the Genocidal Left

Ever since Donald J. Trump won the election, the Left has been trying to come to grips with it all. Why did so many people reject the One True Narrative? Why is America so full of evil racist meanies?

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Beyond the standard leftist bogey of racism, they seem to be genuinely concerned with the rise of nationalism in the United States, and to some degree more broadly in the Western world.

I’m fond of joking that to the Left, anyone to the right of Elizabeth Warren is a racist, even a neo-Nazi. And to be sure, whenever the Left try to brand anyone or anything as racist, they’re using a Kafka-trap: branding someone racist generally has the effect of putting that person and their defenders on the defensive.

We should not lose sight of how very sinister this can be. If you doubt this, consider what happened to James Watson, co-discoverer of the molecular structure of DNA with Francis Crick.

Nationalism, for the Left, is integrally related to the bogey of racism—at least when practiced by Western Whites. Both constitute in-group preferences on the part of White people.

And now we come to the double standard. As I recently pointed out, black nationalism merges rather handily with far-left entitlement and theft.

On that note, I somehow managed to stumble across this fawning review of Black Panther by racial grievance-huckster Shaun King. Here, have a few paragraphs—consider it your daily dose of cancer:

“But let me close by talking about the movie. Nothing like it has ever been done before. Not just with a Black superhero, but with several Black superheroes. Black Panther had a whole cast of beautiful Black brilliance. Black scientists. Black Presidents. The style. The technology. The color.”

I enjoy a good fantasy as much as the next person (and probably more, since I actually write high fantasy), but you have to take a moment to appreciate the sheer hypocrisy of the left. Black expression of identity and in-group pride=Good. White expression of identity and in-group pride=Bad.

“But it’s even deeper than that. There is a movement we call Afro-Futurism, where we imagine a Black way of life free of White supremacy and bigotry. Black Panther, I think, is the first blockbuster film centered in the ethos of Afro-Futurism, where the writers, and directors, and makeup and wardrobe team all imagined a beautiful, thriving Black Africa without colonialism.”

And if it was historical reality instead of childish racial wish-fulfillment and piss-poor fantasy worldbuilding, a movie about Black Africa without colonialism would feature mud huts, iron-tipped spears, and malaria.

“Wakanda showed us our families in one piece. No war on drugs. No mass incarceration. No KKK. No lynching. No racial profiling. No police brutality.”

And all of those things are 110% equivocal, with no differences between them at all. War on drugs? KKK! And the modern social ills are all the fault of Whites, and in no way reflect disparities in the rates of crime, police encounters, or welfare dependence.

But if we’re being honest, the Left is not simply the side of black identitarianism and nationalism: they’re happy to shill for globalism when it’s convenient to do so, i.e. whenever it can undermine group identity and cohesion for Whites.

An example of this very phenomenon recently presented itself on my Audible:

Let’s break some of this down a bit:

“A lot of us don’t see ourselves in our bookshelves, our libraries, or our bookstores.”

It’s almost as if identity matters or something.

“Our bookshelves tend to be disproportionately White and disproportionately male and do not represent who we are in this country or who we are becoming.”

There’s so much to unpack here. Could it be that a bookshelf that is disproportionately White reflects a civilization that has also been White? And I say “has also been White,” because as he points out, “we” are becoming something else.

Disproportionately male? What is the right proportion of male authors? Should we expect a 50-50 breakdown between men and women? (Should we expect men and women to have the same priorities, statistically speaking?).

He complains about history, and then goes on to make a very interesting demand:

“Our bookshelves need to look like the future and not the past; they should be brimming with writers of color, women of color writers, indigenous writers, immigrant writers, women writers, LGBTQIA writers.”

Don’t you love the idea that Whites, and especially White men, are the past? This is nothing more than a demand for the diminution, demonization, and erasure of White racial identity, and especially of White males.

This is, again, the central leftist hypocrisy on nationalism, and the identity politics that provide the basis for nationalism: it’s perfectly okay for _everyone except for Whites, particularly White males. _

Now, if you’ve been following my work since the beginning, you’ll recognize this as our old friend, the Great War of Coalitions. More specifically, it’s the Left’s central coalition strategy: demonizing Whites, and especially White men, is how they recruit coalition partners (the Rainbow Nation brigade referenced by Junot Díaz above) and reward them through the welfare state, which actually works out pretty well for White leftists.

Of course, for this strategy to really work as intended, the target needs to not be able to fight back. And this is why leftists have to deny Whites any legitimate identitarian interests, particularly if they are to continue the globalist project of flooding Europe with migrants and fake refugees.

Now that we’ve identified the problem, what’s the solution? We have a leftist anti-White coalition that is designed to appeal to non-Whites, immigrants, women, and sexual minorities. If you are in any one of those groups, do you have to join the coalition?

On the other hand, we have everyone from moderate leftists and classical liberals to right-wingers such as yours truly who reject said coalition. If you are White, and particularly if you are White and male, is it necessary to go full Richard Spencer?

I submit that the answer to each of the above questions is a resounding No.

The way out of this coalitional struggle that the Left have foisted on us will not be easy, but a good start would be to offer a better-quality and more honest dialog on racial identity race relations. I see plenty of encouraging signs of this already.

A few principles for a more honest dialog might include the following:

1). Admit that many people have racial and other in-group preferences—and that’s okay.

People should not be demonized for expressing a preference to live in neighborhoods with people whom they perceive to be like them. Nor should they be demonized for expressing concern for persecuted national minorities in other countries, groups they again perceive to be like themselves, and trying to fast-track them to safety.

2). Recognize and reject racial grievance hucksterism.

The Left gets a lot of mileage out of grievances against Whites. We have to recognize this for the poisonous, contemptible strategy that it is, a tactic which in turn fosters resentment among Whites.

I’m hardly original here for pointing out that leftist anti-White rhetoric has done a fantastic job of creating the very bogey they now despise – the alt-right.

3). Be honest about real racial issues – and try to find common ground.

A significant part of my red-pilling experience on racial issues was the recognition that the left consistently fails to confront the truth about race and crime, race and welfare use, and the pernicious effects of leftist policies – usually chalked up to a supposed ‘legacy of slavery.’

We need to be honest about these and many other issues because they dynamite the entire narrative of “White privilege,” an intellectually malformed and morally perverse narrative which functions to demonize and delegitimize Whites.

4). Commit to Western and national identity.

We should unequivocally assert the validity of Western civilization, of national identity, and of nationalism over globalism.

Whatever else may be said about White, Western civilization, it has uplifted the entire world. As I recently pointed out with regard to the ongoing and accelerating White displacement and White genocide in South Africa, Whites elevated that country from mud huts and iron-tipped spears to automobiles, the internet, and pizza. Would a bit more gratitude, and a bit less resentment, really be too much to ask?

It is true that the West is the historical civilization of Whites. This in no way means it cannot include others now. What it does mean is that we need a better foundation for race relations, one which is not based on an intellectually and morally bankrupt, perverse doctrine which delegitimizes Whites.

We also need immigration control. It should not be controversial to suggest an end to the massive importation of the Third World into historically White, Western lands.

On the plus side, my own sense of this is that the backlash to the left’s crazy anti-White narratives seems to be growing. I suspect this is a good foundation for finding common ground and advancing the dialog in a more productive direction.

Other principles can and should be added as needed, along with refinements of the four principles suggested above.

It will not be easy to reform race relations and shift the conversation about identity in a manner that discredits leftist propaganda and hypocrisy. Still, it is worth doing, and my own sense of this is that the pushback against the Left seems to be growing (the Trump election being a notable example).

In this struggle, the hypocrisy, hysteria, and entitlement of the Left are working against them. They have become the embodiment of petty tyrants and bullies, hiding behind the comfort of institutions and the longstanding hegemony of their Narrative, all too often afraid to confront opposing ideas.

The only vision of race relations on offer from the Professional Left is the one promoted by the peddlers of grievances, half-truths, and the toxic racial blood libel of “White privilege.” It is a vision for hysterical, entitled children who need to lay their own grievances, inadequacies, and insecurities at the feet of the ever-present, ever-evil and oppressive forces of society.

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Isn’t it time for the adults to take back the conversation?

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