#'I WAS ABUSED LIKE THIS TOO YOU KNOW so i'm gonna pass on the trauma for MY comfort and happiness he doesn't have it as bad as -I- did'

[tarot-by-e11e]

PAC: "Little Warnings"

(this is strictly for entertainment purposes only)

Unfortunately, this is gonna hurt. So, don't read through this if you're already going through some pretty harsh stuff.

When I felt called to do this PAC, I felt that we needed to be humbled and check ourselves occasionally to see if we were being a bit too arrogant. It's such an odd feeling to be called to do this theme for this specific PAC, but hey, even if not every loving call out may be meant for others, every message is still, in some shape or form, valid. Not all of it may resonate with you, and that is still okay~

But I am manifesting that you will encounter this when the universe deems you need to be lovingly knocked down a few pegs~

Nothing wrong with a little loving call-out?

Pile 1:

Cards Pulled:

Queen of Wands, Hierophant, 5 of Coins

Hi Pile 1, if you chose this pile, whenever part of your journey you read this, here are your little warnings you might need to know, so only take what resonates with you, okay?

"Aren't you getting a bit over your head lately? Nothing wrong about being confident in your own abilities but you don't need to rub it in other people's faces that you know you're that Queen B~"

"There's a fine line between confidence and arrogance, my dear. If you don't want to be perceived as someone abrasive or cheap, you know what you need to do."

"Traditions are great and all but there's always room to make new traditions. Honoring the past doesn't mean you have to continue living in the past."

"Which would you prefer being ruthlessly right all the time and be hated? Or learn how to communicate compassionately without sacrificing your truth?"

"Don't expect different results when you're clearly stuck in your ways."

"No matter how much you mean well, if you don't know how to respectfully convey your messages properly, you will not be understood in a way that you'd prefer."

"Don't expect other people to pick up on your body language and subtle hints. Not everyone is as painfully self aware as you."

"Your Past pain is valid but your attitude is not."

"You keep behaving like you can't get passed your trauma from your past then btch out on how cruel life was for you, so you project your hurt towards others, especially towards people who are living the life that you want. Seriously, pick a struggle and push through it. Make it make sense."

"You are not bound to the environment you grew up in, because you have the power to change your destiny. Remember, at the end of the day, only you can save yourself from your circumstance."

"You are more capable than you let yourself believe you are. You just chose to live in your pain when you know you have to put in the effort for you to change your life for the better."

"You are bound by your own self imposed limitations. You are imprisoned in your mind by your own fear."

Channeled Song:

(this concludes the end of your reading)

(this is strictly for entertainment purposes only)

Pile 2:

Cards Pulled:

Queen of Swords, Chariot, Strength

Hi Pile 2, if you chose this pile, whenever part of your journey you read this, here are your little warnings you might need to know, so only take what resonates with you, okay?

- "I'm all up for honesty, just not verbal abuse. So be discerning if the receiver of the message is too soft hearted or easily traumatised."

- "Words are double edged swords. The same words that can heal can also break someone's heart."

- "Discern which battles are worth fighting for. Know when to retreat your words when you know that how you speak may bring more harm than good."

- "Being assertive and a goal getter is nice and all, but remember, your passion may be misinterpreted as abrasive and uncouth. Remember to respect other's personal boundaries."

- "Going after what you want is normal, disregarding someone's feelings and free will isn't."

- "Think before you speak or do."

- "Your way isn't the only way."

- "Impulsive behaviour leaves you susceptible to disaster and unnecessary quarrel. It won't kill you to think before you leap."

- "You don't need to so harsh and dominant to be perceived as strong."

- "Having strength does not warrant you to be mannerless and disrespectful."

- "Hypervigilance doesn't mean you're strong. It means you've been pushed to the corner where you had no one to rely on, especially during the times you need anyone the most."

- "Being able to do everything on your own doesn't mean you don't need help. You can lean on to others unharmed too. Not everyone is out to get you."

- "Just because you used to being in pain and on your own, it doesn't mean that what you've gone through is something you deserve. Don't catastrophize every bad thing that's happened to you as a punishment from the universe. Unfortunately, bad things happen for no reason. You were just unfortunately at the wrong place in the wrong time."

- "You don't deserve to be stuck in your hyperindepence and wear your lack of trust in others like a badge of honor. Your body can only hold so much trauma before it starts completely wrecking your nervous system and have it physically manifest as an illness. Ex. You struggle to lose weight no matter how much you work out because your body doesn't feel safe to exist. That's why you body stores fat as a cushion to help make it feel safe to exist."

- "How far will you keep pushing the people you love away? Are you waiting for their patience to run out so that you can subconsciously prove to yourself that everyone would leave you?? You're so hellbent in your skewed narrative that feeds your self-sabotaging tendencies and lack of self worth that you'd do anything to have your negative self talk to manifest into your reality. Stop feeding yourself the BS that (If they're meant for me, they'll stay. News Flash, no one wants to willing stay with someone who refuse to grow out of their own toxicity. No one can save you but yourself. EVEN YOUR LOVED ONES HAS LIMITS TOO."

- "Be a dear and search up the meaning of the ff. words: GASLIGHTING, STONE WALLING, COVERT NARCISSIST, ACCOUNTABILITY, EMOTIONAL MATURITY, JEALOUSY, SOFT FBOI/GURL, SHADOW WORK, MALADAPTIVE DAYDREAMING (Feel free to see which words hurts the most for you and start working on that)"

- "No one can save you from your own self imposed mental prison of scarcity and unworthiness. People around you can only do so much for you. The power to trap you and free you has always been in your hands."

- "Are you done thinking that everyone is out to get you? Hopefully you'd come to realise that people don't think about you as much as you think they do. Everyone's busy barely surviving their lives to be bothered to meddle with yours."

- "You're not as strong as much as a target you think you are, and that's okay. You don't have to be in everyone's mind and in everyone's DM to feel important. You are worthy and deserving of all regardless if you are in the spotlight or behind the scenes."

- "Two things can be true at the same time. You are the Main Character of your life and also be a background character is someone else's storyline."

- "What's serious for you may not be serious for someone else. So don't expect others to adjust for you when you made zero efforts to properly communicate what you wanted to say."

Channeled Song:

(this concludes the end of your reading)

(this is strictly for entertainment purposes only)

Pile 3:

Cards Pulled:

7 of Swords, Ace of Swords, 6 of Wands

Hi Pile 3, if you chose this pile, whenever part of your journey you read this, here are your little warnings you might need to know, so only take what resonates with you, okay?

- "Just because someone broke your heart it doesn't give you the right to leave a trail of broken hearts in your path. Your pain is valid but your attitude and actions afterwards aren't."

- "Being betrayed in the past doesn't mean you should play and to toy with someone else's feelings. You are becoming the player that you hated the game for."

- "Not all people mean to use and abuse you. Other people are just good natured and mean what they say. Don't confuse someone's genuity because someone else broke your trust before."

- "Discernment is highly encouraged, projecting your pain and jealousy isn't."

- "It's great to chase new ideas, what's not great is to chase the idea of someone new then cheat on your current partner just because things got bored. Don't be a part of the problem."

- "Don't even dare entertain anyone new just because you chose to be lazy and not put in the effort to communicate on how your current relationship can get better. Emotionally opening up to someone is cheating. Having a work husband/wife is still cheating. Putting yourself in any situation that would cause your partner to doubt your loyalty is a breeding ground of disaster of the life you currently know."

- "If you caved in and cheat now, you are bound to cheat again. If you allow yourself to be tempted now, you have proven yourself unworthy to even be in a loving relationship. In short: you have become part of the problem. So don't expect receiving anything you refused to give. You have no right to the privileges of an exclusive and healthy relationship if you fck around and find out. (because you actively chose to play whack a mole and find out what it's like to have std because of your recklessness)."

Channeled Song:

- "How far will you go just to win? Will you cheat on your partner just to have a promotion? Will you pay someone to ruin your competition just to win? Will you start a smear campaign just to go ahead? Will you drop little white lies to make yourself appear as the better option? How illegal and immoral would you allow yourself to become just to get ahead? Is it worth it? Lose your friends and family along the way? Just to win that empty cup?"

- "Will you abandon your morals just to win?"

(this concludes the end of your reading)

(this is strictly for entertainment purposes only)

Pile 4:

Cards Pulled:

6 of Swords, Knight of Cups, 7 of Wands

Hi Pile 4, if you chose this pile, whenever part of your journey you read this, here are your little warnings you might need to know, so only take what resonates with you, okay?

- "Unfortunately, leaving the problem behind without any explanation or letter won't make it go away."

- "Ghosting, just to protect your ego, is never the answer. Face your issues like an adult and accept the consequences of your actions accordingly."

- "No amount of dr*gs, alcohol, smoke or flings can help you tun away from your own willful ignorance. You can't run away from your own feelings. The only way to get away/rid of your problem is by facing it. This is one of the moments in a person's life where DELULU is NOT the SOLULU."

- "Fleeing the country won't keep you from feeling your feelings."

- "Just because you understand how people work and emotionally operate, it doesn't mean that you should use that to your unfair advantage. Stop binge watching those dark psychology videos. And you wonder why people pick a bad vibe from you? What do you expect? You are indeed the problem: the not so covert manipulative problem."

- "Stop using the promise of helping others with their dreams just so you can trick them in making your dreams come true at their expense."

- "You can only spin a web of lies so far."

- "You're not as convincing of a gaslighter as you think you are. People can see through your lies, they just chose not to speak up because, yes, they do it out of pity."

- "Resilience is incredibly admired but bulldozing other people out of your way to get the results is out of the question."

- "Not seeing the results that you want then btching about not having slept enough and feeling like you're about to collapse? You chose to overwork and overburden yourself to the point of burn out, and you're shocked that your health and sanity is fcked up? Dear, make it make sense."

- "Has it ever occurred to you that just because you put in the effort to win someone over, it doesn't mean that they're obligated to choose you? Free will and preferences are a thing, you know? You can be everything and more to that person, and that person is not required nor obligated to choose you. You can the most ideal man/woman and still not be chosen."

- "Don't expect exclusivity from someone who told you from the beginning that they're there to fck around. You can't change someone just because you stayed. You can only keep someone that wants to be kept by you."

Channeled Song:

(this concludes the end of your reading)

(this is strictly for entertainment purposes only)

Feel free to check out my feedback herePaid Readings are AVAILABLE

In all honesty, I feel so bad for releasing this PAC but there's this oddly strong gut feeling that we all need to be humbled and wake up to the toxicity we all chose to lie with at night.

In fact, some things we've gone through, unfortunately are the results of our own lack of accountability.

Sorry if I hurt your feelings, but some painful warnings need to be said.

Notice:

Exchange Readings are OPEN

Feel free to send me some support in the form of tips,

Head to my Buy-Me-A-Coffee here 🍀

[aqours]

i love how they both addressed that abuse tends to circulate as this fucking evil awful horrible cycle that only ends when people chose to break the train while also making it clear airi was a fucking revolting disgusting person who tries to justify what she does instead of breaking that cycle who can only whine and cry when a kid who isn't even 14 calls her out on it

[prettyinpwn]

What is your opinion on Filbrick Pines?

Oh boy... long story short, my opinion on him is pretty low, not gonna lie. I went into his character a lot in my analysis post on Ford's writing (found here), since Filbrick had a large effect on Stan and Ford's characters, even if only in subtle ways. To summarize my points on Filbrick:

Definitely abusive, in my opinion. I don't think physically, but for sure emotionally and mentally. He's the type of father who provided materially, but otherwise didn't seem very good at it.

Was way too focused on money. Now, I think it's very possible that Filbrick could have a great backstory reason for this. My biggest guess is a life of poverty and wanting to provide better for his family, but the cruel irony is that in seeking wealth, he hurt his family (e.g "Stanley, by "sabotaging" Ford you hurt our whole family, because he was going to make us millions, so I'm gonna throw you out, ignoring the fact that by throwing you out I'm currently hurting the family in the way I'm accusing you of."). He also hurt Ford. The way Filbrick treated Ford was like a Willy Wonka golden ticket. "Oh, you're smart? This college might make you a millionaire? I'm impressed!". He didn't care about what Ford wanted, he cared about what Ford's brains could get him. Case in point: he didn't seem to give a rat's ass about Ford's brains or college dreams until the principal implied it could make money.

Iirc, according to Hirsch, the quote Stan says in Little Gift Shop of Horrors ("Movies are great! You watch the movie, you scare the girl, the girl snuggles up next to you, next thing you know you gotta raise a kid. Your life falls apart. Forget that last part.") was actually something Filbrick used to say. Like DEAR GOD Filbrick said that in front of Stan and Ford? "Hey kids, my life was great until I got your ma knocked up with Shermie, and then my life was pure suck after that.". Like... who... who just says that in front of their kids? Who even THINKS that about their kids? Yikes.

The way Stan and Ford are named. The code at the end of A Tale of Two Stans is played as a joke, but when you think about it, it's... kinda sad. "A STUBBORN TOUGH NEW JERSEY NATIVE, FILBRICK WASN'T TOO CREATIVE, HAVING TWINS WAS NOT HIS PLAN, SO HE JUST SHRUGGED AND NAMED BOTH STAN.". Filbrick did not give a single f*ck. "Oh, I have twins? Eh, I'm too lazy to think about a name, just call 'em practically the same thing.". What father does this?

In the post I linked above, I also hinted at how I thought Bill's manipulations of Ford almost were a mirror echo of Filbrick (even in their character design, it's odd how they both have yellow brick and blue with hats themed designs, he's got the literal word 'brick' in his name, etc). Because when you think about it, what did Ford's father teach him but "you are a puppet to be used by me to get what I want"?

There's a reason Ford and Stan are incredibly broken people, and it all started with Filbrick. He's the one that taught Stan to believe he's worthless and a f*ckup, and the one that taught Ford that he's a tool to be used. So... nah, not a fan of the guy, if I didn't make that obvious already lol. BUT... I will say this, as this is something I did give him credit for in my Ford analysis post: a lot of Ford and Stan's positive qualities are things he passed down to them, namely their protectiveness of family and "toughness". But unlike Filbrick, who manifested that in toxic ways, Stan and Ford took a heavy albatross necklace of generational trauma and turned it around to a positive.

This goes even further when Stan passes the lesson to Dipper. Dipper learning to "fight back"? That's a family lesson that comes from Filbrick, originally, when he signed Stan and Ford up for boxing. Some have criticized the way Stan taught Dipper that lesson, but you can't argue with the end result:

TL;DR: Filbrick mostly sucks, but... like most well-written characters, he does have some gray area. Was he a good father? No. But the gauntlet meat grinder he put Ford and Stan through - worth it or not - made them the tough family protectors they are as adults. I will give him that, at least.

[bonefall]

How do you feel about "character joins bloodclan" aus? Im curious about ur thoughts since youre really in tune with the themes of the series but personally i just hate them bc its ALWAYS aimed at 'unfortunate' characters and always ALWAYS ignores the fact that bloodclan is a horrible place in-canon and that they're just reflavoring the abuse and trauma the characters qent through to be more emo or goth themed.

Ravenpaw is ALWAYS a prime target for this and its like. Great. You took the character being abused by their mentor figure and is being harmed from the violent culture the clan has generated... and giving them an EMO mentor figure who will inevitably abuse them and harm them as a result of the violent culture the emo clan has generated. Sasha is another one I've noticed- you've put the woman who lost her kit and is struggling to survive with the others while being controlled and abused by someone who sees her as an outsider (aka alone and easy to isolate), and are gonna put her in a faction who specifically separates kin from one another to easily control them and who have canonically tried murdering those who stick with their family. What was gained here.

Like i know bloodclan is revamped in ur au (thank god for it) but in canon bloodclan is HORRIBLE. People ignore that in favor of putting their favs into bloodclan bc bloodclan is cool and killed tigerstar that one time bc of revenge. Ravenpaw becomes Scourge AUS are SO SO SO much worse bc of this too- sure you manage to point out how scourge and raven has roughly similar stories in their youth but you could also do something interesting and make an au where raven and scourge are FOILS and do a firestar/scourge thing, while pointing this comparison out!! Instead you just went "Ravenpaw emo now and is sad about beating up Firestar his friend" and basically kept everything the same.

Sorry im basically venting here but i just dont like how people forget that scourge in canon does NOT look out for the 'little guy', he's a murderer and abuser who wants to keep his subjects afraid and separated so that he alone has power over them. Bloodclan is not the cool strong goth group, its the group where two cats slaughter eachother over a piece of twoleg scraps, only for the survivor to die bc the food was poisonous to cats and no one knew bc theres no cohesive group that can pass that knowledge around. its a fucking horrible place to live. Im not saying that you cant do interesting "character in bloodclan" aus (a Rusty who lives in bloodclan who STILL wants to do good but is shaped by the horrid reality of bloodclan would be fun imo) but its so often used with already traumatized characters as a 'solution' or 'fix-it with some emotional issues involved' that i just foam at the mouth and howl like a rabid animal on principle at this point.

Hmm... I think for me, it doesn't tend to read that way for me when the fandom makes AUs for it. I'm coming at BloodClan from a point of really deep critique and frustration.

BloodClan's not a REAL place, and what that means is, every speck of how horrible it was is a choice the writers made to justify its treatment. It was something they actively decided, because, BloodClan was a tool to suddenly invalidate the previous 5 books of TPB so that the series could comfortably conclude there was no need to upset the status quo.

If you haven't read it before, I recommend this post I made on how Darkest Hour Is A Personal Disappointment, but anyway;

We spend a whole series on how Fireheart challenges a broken society, because he is different. Their xenophobia, how isolationism and glory get people killed, the way that Tigerstar's greatest asset is how respected he is... these are bad things. They're things that Fireheart fights for several books.

But then, in the LAST book, in the 11th inning, they introduce BloodClan. They're just evil. They have no nuance. The narrative bends over backwards to stress that this group of evil foreigners LOVES murder, hates friendship, and doesn't believe in our good god.

Suddenly, the Clan cats have to be EXTRA xenophobic and glorious to kill these filthy, murderous foreign hordes. Clan cat belief in their good god makes them stronger than the bloodthirsty barbarians. Firestar kills Scourge and we can feel happy and triumphant about it, when Tigerstar was killed a few chapters ago and given a tragic sendoff.

So, I encourage you to step back from an emotional response to how Filthy and Murderous this group was portrayed, and look at it as a writing choice.

When Tigerstar, known cat-racist and murderer of mixed-race people, is killed by Scourge in self-defense, he is grieved by Firestar and commended for his "good qualities". (and then they retconned in that it was actually secretly revenge all along, not just self defense, so this killing is extra evil)

When Scourge is killed, Firestar just thinks about how it's cool he's not going to heaven, and how all of the previously ferocious BloodClan warriors look so inferior to the forest Clans.

And so, with all that said,

I'm 100% in favor of how the fandom widely looks at this, says, "fuck that" and just makes them the Cool Goth Group. I'd argue pretty strongly that the least nuanced idea of that is still infinitely better than canon.

There was nothing there. It was literally just Xenophobia-Is-JustifiedClan. They literally hated love and friendship and banned families so that Clan cats would look good in comparison. Banned families. You don't get this level of stupid evil from anything else but an 80s cartoon.

Maybe I just don't see the AUs you tend to see (I curate my Tumblr experience very well and generally hang out in more adult-oriented spaces, I can imagine a place like Amino being mostly kids who tend to be immature. Edgelord Angstpiddle is just a normal part of growing up), but every project I see that gives me a glimpse of BloodClan Ravenpaws and Sashas come with such tweaks already assumed.

Like, these are examples I've seen,

They'll have Raven be involved with the formation of BloodClan

Scourge will actually be a character with some pity and mercy, like how he was in Rise of Scourge when his abusive siblings begged him for food, and he fed them before sending them away.

no ban on love and friendship. Lol. Lmao, even.

More of the social structure will be based around acquiring food for people in a 'harsh' environment, leading to that battle, instead of just Evil Foreign Greed (which canon!scourge only had after being almost killed by tigerstar, because he said "actually, in light of new information that you are a murderer, i need to reconsider our deal.")

BloodClan will be overhauled completely. I've seen this a few ways. Connecting them to SkyClan, or the Oakstar raids on Chelford, or even as a positive entity; a surprise ally. (VERY common with BloodClan Ravenpaw AUs I've seen).

Anyways... (Shrug), I dunno dude, it doesn't bother me that much.

[finneyfinland]

I Think We're Alone Now chapter 2

SUMMARY: Billionaire Reginald Hargreeves adopts 8 children all born on the same day of the same year. 7 of which were soon introduced as the umbrella academy. To you, the umbrella academy was nothing but a man using his power to traumatizes children. You'd know, as you were number 8. The Vampire

WARNINGS: mentions of child torture (experiments). Starvation, body horror (vampire), cannibalism, child abuse, blood, death, murder, childhood trauma (noncon tattooing), nightmares

A/N: Please listen to the warnings, there's gonna be a LOT of blood talk in this one. I'll be calling Victor Vanya but I will also use they/them as to lessen the blow. When the third season comes around we'll switch over dw

As the group follows Five to the kitchen, you try to get a head start on adjusting to Five's usual body, but slightly altered. His body usually was full of carbs and sugar with almost electricity energy shuttering throughout, to help fuel his abilities. This Five was extremely lacking the balance needed to sustain his healthy bodily growth pattern. You walk in tandem beside him before speaking quietly, "Your muscle mass will deplete rapidly if you don't feed yourself soon". He glances up at you in surprise before glaring "where does it look like I'm going?" His response puts a smile on your face as you hum, falling back a few paces to rejoin the rest of the group following behind. It's nice to see that some things don't change.

You stand between Vanya and Allison as you all watch Five run around the kitchen. "What's the date? The exact date." Vanya responds while Five grabs the package of bread, laying two slices upon the cutting board you watched him bring out. "Perfect" Is all Five says. He must have been counting on a certain date. Before you can try to unpack that Luther demands an explanation, trying to intimidate him into answering. Which goes completely ignored by Five. It's hard to focus on the very important interrogation attempt when everyone's heart rates are fluctuating rapidly. You try to listen over the many sounds only you can hear. Five matches Luther's energy before teleporting behind him trying to reach for the cupboards. You find it amusing that he has to use the step stool to reach.

"Where'd you go?" Diego asks looking to the ground. "The future. It's shit, by the way." Five responds as he grabs the sugar and teleports back to the cutting board. "Called it" Klaus exclaims as he raises his hand. "I should've listened to the old man." The way Five pauses his explanation to complement Klaus, and Klaus's immediate flamboyant thanks brings a smile to your face.

As Vanya asks a question you focus on what Five could be making. So far the ingredients are suspiciously close to the 'meals' that you all used to make as kids. The same ones you and Vanya left out for him. Looks like he still loves them.

While you were distracted Five must of said something too snarky for his own good cause Diego shoots out of his seat. You're glad Luther was able to stop him, he just got back and they're already fighting? you thought to yourself. Meanwhile Luther asks Five how much time he spent in the future. "Forty-five years, give or take" as Five's response hit the air your siblings around you sit back in disbelief. For the family it was 20 years at max, to hear that it's been 45 for him shocks you. As the heartbeats of your sibling continue to fluctuate as they struggle to digest the information in front of them Five mentions a 'Dolores' confusing the group even further.

Five grabs the newspaper with father's death on the front page. "Guess I missed the funeral." Luther and Diego seem to still be arguing about the true cause of father's sudden death. The rest of your group ignore the bubbling anger beside them in favor for the mystery that is Five. "Nice to see nothings changed." Five walks off. As he passes you Allison tries to questions him, but Five brushes her off in favor of going upstairs with his sandwich.

As he leaves the rest of your siblings and you are now even more confused. Getting what felt like more questions instead of the answers you all need. The group disperses now all splitting up to take a breather, attempt to take everything in.

With Vanya and Five together in the parlor you change into bulkier clothing to withstand the chill that so commonly is paired with the rain. It's finally time for you and your siblings to hold a mock mourning ceremony back behind the house. You pull on your long black coat to fight the cold. Before heading out you make sure to grab your umbrella that you take everywhere. It's black, with a mesh veil flowing down along all sides for extra coverage. Usually it's for the sun, but it should sustain in actual rain.

With Luther carrying the ashes everyone follows behind. You walk beside Vanya and mom, stopping near Ben's statue. "Did something happen?" Mom asks, her wiring must really be acting up. The question concerns your siblings as they answer her question with confusion. Diego tries to reassure the group but you can tell he doesn't believe his words. Pogo walks out and joins the circle to prompt Luther into starting. As he pours out father's urn the ashes drop onto the ground without any grandeur, leaving the mood awkward instead of remorseful. "Probably would have been better with some wind." Luther says, only digging himself a deeper grave.

As Pogo tries to save the occasion with a speech you couldn't help but be angered by his words. Dad might of been a smart billionaire who gave you eight a home, but that doesn't even begin to make up for his abuse. The ugly side of your thoughts peaking through at such a time as this fills you with shame. You don't think you could meet anyone's eyes. Pogo's words act as pure diesel to the flames within Diego, mirroring yours. As they explode, it doesn't seem to make anyone feel better. When Diego brings forth his number, you feel emotion start to rise from your chest.

As Number Eight you understand Diego's argument personally, even hearing the number being brought up in conversation is enough to send you back to your childhood, nothing but bad memories. It's a weakness you've tried to work through with the multiple therapists you've had over the years.

Diego's last challenge to our father sparks another ugly argument between him and Luther. Sometimes words cut deeper than blades ever could, you find it ironic that Diego of all people toe the line so closely. Arguments like this have always happened in your family, no one was similar enough to truly be close, but everyone was too close feel different, at least in the good way. The differences between you all couldn't be more stark, but the experiences you share could be enough to tie you together. If they could get over themselves anyway.

Luther swings at Diego and all hope for a nice reunion is lost in a second. You grab mom and pull the two of you away from the fighting. Heart rates increase in speed and volume as Vanya tries to get them to stop, being immediately blocked out by Klaus spurring them on. Pogo leaves the group as the brawl gets too close to Ben's statue. "We don't have time for this." Just as Five walks away to return to the house Luther's punch collapses Ben's statue. As the pieces hit the ground it feels like a part of you is shattering along side it. The world stops for a second, before your forced to shift your eyes back, numb and alone.

Ben's been gone for a while, but you haven't quite let he go yet. Both of you were close when he was alive. Seeing the only grace he was given disrespected digs at an old wound.

The moment doesn't last as Diego whips a knife through the air, it clips Luther's arm. Halting the fight as Luther walks off clutching his arm. Vanya moves to confront Diego and a chill rushes up your spine. Not able to dare risk confrontation, another fight would only make you feel worse. You walk back into the house, head low. Wanting the loudness of everyone's heart beats out of your ears, missing your apartment now more than ever.

You collect your bag and make your way to the front doors. It seems the familiar smells and sounds prove to be too much for you. As you open the front doors and step out onto the street the once harsh chill air feels freeing, a dark weight lifted enough to breath unburdened. As you stand on the side walk your brain calls back another old memory of when you left for good all those years ago. I was dumb to think anything would change you think to yourself as the taxi begins your ride back to your quiet apartment.

Although your body has left, your mind is still swimming with anxieties. That's when the itching starts. It burns into your forearm as your rip your sleeve back. When you look down your met with the tattoo you were branded with as a child.

You were the last number, placed almost at the end of the line. You're forced to watch your sibling cling to each other as tears stream down their young faces. As you sit in between Five and Ben their heart beats clue you into their fear. Ben is almost in tears just at the sight of our siblings, while Five tries to put up a brave front. Meanwhile Klaus has been dissociating since Luther sat in the chair first. When you look up you can see Vanya as they stand on the landing of the staircase looking down as we cling to one another. Sometimes you wonder if their happy that they're missing out. But later when you're sleeping over in their room you spot a black marker drawing of an umbrella matching yours on their arm.

Days at home were hard, but at night there was a sliver of peace waiting for you. A secret you've kept to yourself, the dark nights were a comfort only you could have. When the last of your siblings succumbed to sleep they're heart beats would slow, sometimes if you were really lucky they would sync up for a few beats. It would only happen for a second, but when it did, it was like music. All different instruments coming together as one. You were trained to distinguish your siblings heart beats, but when they combined there was no telling who was who. Klaus or Luther, Five or Diego, Vanya or Ben they were indistinguishable. It was only after two or three beats separated that you could tell. You're sure that if you told them about your love for their hearts, they would be weirded out. So you've kept it to yourself. To this day the sounds and patterns of your siblings live inside your brain. Training forever burnt into your skull.

Your thoughts come to a close as the cab stops in front of your complex. As you walk up to your floor you extend your senses to the greater neighborhood around. Searching in vain for your siblings. Surprisingly you find the faintest sound belonging to Five. Two other heart beats foreign to you are with him. Unlocking your door and closing it with a click your hang up your coat and prepare to settle in for the night. Exhausted, your mind is quick to let Five's heart slip into your subconscious. It makes your some nice background noise as you sit on your couch sleep blinks in and out as your own heart rate slows.

Five's however doesn't get the memo. It cuts out, and accelerates to levels harmful to the common human. Your mind is too tired from the long day, but a part of you begs to keep your eyes and ears open. Five's heart only cuts out when he's jumping, and it's happening way too soon. But with how far away he is there's no use in listening any longer. Five's the one who can teleport anyway your brain reasons. As long as his heart doesn't stop, you shouldn't have to worry.

A couple minutes pass and Five jumps out of your reach before flickering back in. See, he's fine you slip in and out of sleep, still calling out to your siblings. Eventually your able to fall into a gentle sleep. Soothed by the hearts of your neighbors, and the cars passing below..

Days are long for a wolf living among sheep. Every passerby is a meal that is practically begging to be devoured. The wolf's life as a sheep doctor is torturous. Can you imagine? A perfectly prepared meal sitting open on a table. The wolf is sure that anyone would understand if they took a bite, after all isn't it the wolf's natural instincts? Why should the wolf have to starve itself as sheep prance around them? Aren't the sheep just asking for a wolf to come along?!

It's pointless for a wolf to hold back, barely surviving isn't enough. When you have an infinite source of food, wouldn't you just dig in. Why hold back? Who's to judge you if you just eat them too? It's not like the sheep ever saw the wolf as anything more than a predator. Proving them right is only natural. It's always been the way of life, hasn't it? Survival of the fittest and all…

You're sweating, limbs aching. You must of fallen asleep on the couch again. There's this loud beating in your ears, it's starting to get on your nerves. Oh wait, it's your heart. No wonder it was so loud. Faintly other hearts join yours through the quiet night until you realize one's different from the rest. It's unique, and it's fast. Too fast. You groan, naps always act like a hard reset. All sorts of questions come to mind. Who am I, where am I, what time is it, hell what day is it? The special heart beat has gotten louder, faster in your ears. Faintly you remember you were listening for this very heart.

As your mind clears it all comes back to you. It's Five's heart. Five's back. His heart is going way too fast to be normal, and it's giving you a headache. You stand with a huff. 'Might as well go check'. You think to yourself as you put your coat and shoes on. The walk to Five's location is interrupted as he jumps away. Luckily you can still hear it. Now that you think about it, you can hear another. Vanya's apartment must be close. How Five managed to find it is beyond you. You sigh and call a cab, you've already walked too long tonight. If you want to hold out until your next feeding day you'll need to hold back on wasting energy.

The ride is easy, and your left in font of Vanya's complex. You'll just have to guess with your ears what floor she's on. As you walk floor to floor you start to hear voices. Five's talking, you must be getting close then. As you step up to the door you breathe in a calming breath. Here goes nothing you knock on the door eight times, a calling card you used to use as kids. The conversation inside halts. Quickly Vanya walks to the door before opening it. When the door opens that's when you can smell it. Fresh food.

As your eyes scan the room for it your eyes land on a injured Five. It's not his blood you can smell though. He has someone, he has someone's limbs. Quickly your mouth fills with saliva. You rip your eyes away to focus on Vanya. Their concerned face meets your stoic one. You smile, "Hey, you left early and I barely got to talk to you today." You hope this will be a decent lie. Luckily for you they fall for it. "Oh right sorry, I just needed a breather." Vanya replies, "Yeah so did I, our siblings are just as loud as ever." As Vanya opens the door further you step in the space. "Is that a new violin bow? Did the old one finally break?" You smile sadly, it was practically a gift from father. "Yeah it couldn't take anymore string repairs." Vanya closes the door before turning to look at the old thing.

Finally you turn to Five "What're you doing here? You smell like blood." Five smirks, "I knew I couldn't hide it from you." he pull out a wrap of newspaper. You can tell by the smell alone that it's flesh. You swallow as he unwraps it. Vanya gasps as he reveals three fingers, still fresh. "I need you to tell me about this person, think you can do it?" Five asks, he cut off fingers for you. He knew you would come and find him.

You clear your throat, "how long since they died?" You can't eat blood from the dead, father found that out the hard way. After 4 hours the blood turns to poison. "About an hour now." Five says casually. Vanya sits down on their couch, turned away as to not see. They've become accustomed over the years to your diet. But the fear that comes with severed parts is normal. It's ordinary.

"Alright" you outstretch you hand palm up. Five steps forward and drops the fingers into you hand. Your eyes lock onto them, it's been awhile since you've eaten body parts. Luckily your stomach can digest whole bones.

With one last breath you lift a finger up to your mouth. The taste is even better than the smell. The blood fills your mouth as your teeth tare the skin and muscle. The flavor is rich, and filling. Your teeth crunch the bones and grind them into nothing. The first goes too fast. As you bring up the second finger you focus on taking in any information you can.

Male, good diet, healthy. Another gulp. Upper 20s to lower 30s. There's a old blood pressure problem. He's taking the proper medication. His bones snap from the pressure of your jaw as the warm nectar of life drips down your throat. Veins burst gushing into your mouth. Lots of stress in daily life. Strict boss, long shifts taking a toll. High heart rate within the last seconds. Another bite and there's a slight after taste. He's had alcohol with the last 12 hours. Drinking irresponsibly on the job. The skin smells of gunpowder. Vastly different locations. A clean office then dirty streets. Steady hands on decline. The muscle is plump, he works out. Not enough at his age, but semi-regularly. The third has passed your lips without you noticing, too hungry. He hates his job, not enough money maybe. Or too many hours, bad coworkers. He's low on the chain, not respected enough.

Your hunger blinds you to the outside world. You lick you hand clean, stomach never truly full. Soon you realize that there's eyes on you. Quickly you straighten up. Your fangs are out, your eyes are probably blown out, you're panting like a dog. You lost track and now you've embarrassed yourself. You meet Five's eyes hesitantly, ashamed. He's smirking at you, that dumb look. It's like he's planned everything out and the pieces are all falling into place. You remember what he used to say, 'I only stand so close because I'm stronger than you'. "Well, what've you got?" Always one to cut to the chase. "Healthy, but an alcoholic. Regretful, angry about his job. Slightly drunk, but got another shift less than 10 hours ago. Works for an office type headquarters, but is low on the chain. A throw away worker. Quickly replaced." You finish as you take out a spare tissue to wipe any leftover blood. Five nods at each point before turning to sit back onto the chair behind him. "Thank you for the plentiful meal." You say as your face wipes clean. Five scowls. You walk around the couch before sitting next to Vanya.

Eventually it gets late, Vanya insists both of you stay until morning. You're quick to accept while Five goes along with it. Vanya brings out blankets for Five and invites you to sleep over in their room. You lay beside Vanya, the same way you used to as kids. They fall asleep and you can hear Five jump away as Vanya's heart slows. You get up from the bed and write them a note. 'Shift at 5 :)' A little white lie. You leave it on their counter before heading back home. Gotta leave before sunlight. Even though you just ate, you didn't bring your umbrella with you.

Tomorrow you'll stop by the house. Peak your head in the door before leaving. You don't want to get too involved, getting close to the family never brings any good.

We're just too destructive.

[purpleheartskies]

Happy Father's Day!... but not to Robby's "father", Johnny Lawrence. He doesn't deserve the honor of that title: "father" or "dad".

You know, in s5e9, Johnny told Chozen,

"My whole life was haunted by one stupid kick. I thought if I could go back in time, do things different, dodge it, block it, my life would be fixed. The kick wasn't the problem. I had to stop focusing on what was behind. Start looking at what was in front of me." [points at Carmen]

Johnny made this decision in s3e10, when he left Robby behind with Kreese and did nothing to make things right with Robby. Robby was in Cobra Kai with Johnny's abuser who had strangled him twice, and Johnny made no attempts to convince Robby to leave Cobra Kai. Instead, Johnny just got impotent over Miguel hanging out with Daniel and was making his favorite dinner to coax him back to him. (Johnny trying to convince Robby in s4e4 doesn't count because Robby is the one who came to him for that conversation, and Johnny didn't even care to really listen to what Robby was saying to him.)

In contrast to Johnny, in s5e9, Robby went to Cobra Kai and took a stand against freaking Silver to make things right with Tory and Kenny:

"I came here to apologize. I let you down. Turned my back on you. I didn't understand at the time but I realize I was wrong. I shouldn't have just left. I should have taken you all with me. Everything you're taught here is bullshit. There is pain in this dojo and it's built upon fear, because this man is not your sensei, he is your enemy. But it's not too late. You're not past the point of no return. And I promise, there's still another way."

Wouldn't it have been amazing if Johnny had done this for Robby when Robby was in Cobra Kai? But, no. Johnny didn't do this. He had decided to "stop focusing on what was behind. Start looking at what was in front of [him]." s5 was even worse for Johnny and Robby and was sad, sad proof that Johnny isn't worthy of being a father/dad to anyone. Silver spoke truth: Johnny will screw up another kid.

In s4e4, Johnny dismissed Robby when Robby told him:

"For as long as I can remember, I've been afraid... afraid that I'm gonna end up like you. But that's not gonna be my fear anymore... because I am better than you."

Johnny once told Miguel that he can be better than Johnny, but Johnny freaking turned Robby away when Robby said that he is better than Johnny. In s5e9, Robby proved once again that he is better than Johnny. Hell, even Dom in Fast X, a ridiculous character in a ridiculous, over-the-top movie franchise with bad writing and retcons galore, has the right idea about fatherhood. Dom said about his son: "Pass it down. Each generation, better than the last... That's fatherhood." and "You will be better than me." Johnny never passed down anything to Robby, other than the generational trauma. Johnny never cared or thought to teach Robby anything. Instead, Johnny replaced Robby with a "second chance" and passed down his legacy to that "second chance". Johnny has been choosing that "second chance" over Robby ever since. In s5, Johnny encouraged that "second chance" to use that legacy against Robby (apartment fight). Johnny's also getting ready for his "third chance", all while continuing to neglect and abuse Robby so that Johnny can feel better about his failures with Robby.

One question for s6 is "Will Johnny ever put his "real" son above his own ego for good?"

[waywardsou2]

This was inspired/made for @mrcorkus. You've got the right idea mate.

Summary: A past so dark, and stained with blood will always come back to haunt them. One way or another.

Word Count: 2.2k+

Tags: Nightmares, past trauma, past abuse, death, canon typical violence

Logan was sitting by the window, taking large puffs of his cigar. Wade was sitting in the bathroom. Staring at himself in the mirror, pulling his mask off and shoving it back on his face at random intervals.

Tonight was not a good night. For either of them.

They kept their distances, knowing they weren't good company when things got like this.

And by this, they meant when the two of them were suffering from the effects of their pasts. A time when Logan couldn't stuff down all he remembered he'd done, and Wade couldn't crack a joke to hide the fact that he couldn't stand the thought of someone actually loving him.

He still didn't believe that Logan loved him. Even though he had saved Wade's universe when he didn't have to. Stayed when he could have been anywhere else. Agreed to be Wade's boyfriend even though there were plenty of fish in the sea. He didn't believe a face and a mind like his was worthy of being loved. He looked into the mirror, trying to see even the smallest glimpse of what Logan saw in him. But he couldn't.

There was nothing there except his horribly scarred face and his even worse past as a mercenary. It lurked behind his eyes, like a constant, haunting reminder.

And Logan, couldn't understand why Wade saw him as anything more than a monster. That's what he was after all. A wild killing machine, a feral animal. A dog that at any moment might snap its leash and run wild.

He didn't know why Wade cared for him. Why Wade tried to make him smile, and how he even succeeded. He didn't understand why Wade accommodated for him in his life.

Eventually Wade came out of the bathroom with the biggest fake smile he could muster, having left his mask on the sink.

He turned to Logan saying "I'm off to bed kitten, join me soon?"

He said it in a sing song voice as he slipped over to give Logan a peck on the cheek.

"Yeah yeah, see you soon bub"

Wade smushed Logan's face in his hand, pressing his cheeks together. "I love you Wolvie"

And without another word he skipped back to their room. Passing Al who was sitting passed out on the couch.

"You're really gonna leave an old woman sleeping on the couch? For shame" he said to the writer who wanted to mention Al but couldn't be bothered working out the logistics of their living situation.

Wade changed into his favourite shirt and PJ pants. His bright pink Hello Kitty pants and his white custom made shirt that said "Two seater" with an arrow pointing to his mouth and his crotch.

He climbed into bed, grabbing his unicorn stuffie and passing out almost instantly. No one said it was easy being a hyperactive, traumatised fourth wall breaker.

After an hour, and four more cigars, Logan stumbled his way to bed. Hoping sleep would steal his thoughts away from his last moments with X-Men. How...angry they had been. How much he wished he could take back all that had led to them being taken from him. Wishing he hadn't taken for granted how much of a loving family they were to him.

He stripped himself of his pants and his shirt, crawling into bed in only his boxers before he too passed out.

The night dwindled on as Logan and Wade were sleeping. Wade was curled over on his side. His fist clutching at the blanket. Whilst Logan was on his back the blanket kicked away from him roughly.

Neither of them had found the peace they were hoping for through sleep.

Logan was tossing and turning in the bed, his face twisted into a pained scowl. Logan was getting terrible flashes of his past mingled with his not-so-recent present. He remembers his time with Stryker. Feeling the pain course through his body as he took Logan's body and twisted it into a weapon. Logan was taken advantage of, convinced and manipulated. His mind becoming a mess of thoughts and orders that he didn't want to follow but was compelled to.

He saw his family, his real one and the one he found. He saw his father, his true father. Dead by his own hands, 6 little puncture marks in his chest. He had been a villain all his life. A murderer. A killer.

He saw Scott and Jean, laying bloody and torn apart in the foyer. Their faces pale.

He saw Storm strung up from the chandelier, her cape caught in the ornate bronze. Her hair knotted and twisted.

He saw Jubilee and Nightcrawler. His tail severed lying next to his body. He looked as if he had been shielding Jubilee. Small burn marks in the shape of sparkles littered his skin.

Beast had been in his lab, shards of glass sticking out from his body where the hunters had used his own lab against him.

And Xavier, a look a terror on his face as he sat limply in his chair. His body didn't match his face.

He remembered seeing red. Seeing it everywhere he looked. The blood of his family, strewn across the place he had reluctantly called home.

He saw red in his hands. As he tore any remaining hunters to shreds. Watching his claws take the lives of the humans who had mercilessly taken the life of his family.

And he continued to see red. For days as he chased down anyone who held fear or hate for mutants in their eyes. And he kept going. After a while he stopped looking for that glint in their eyes. Only wishing to see it fade as many times as possible. Because all humans were the same. They always were.

Wade lying next to him curled the sheets and the blanket, clutching at them desperately until his knuckles were white. He saw Francis. Watching him walk in and out of view, every time he walked into view a new method of torture would begin. And Wade could hear his own voice making quippy remarks. Remarks he remembered. But all he could feel was horrible, unbridled fear. All he could hear was the rapid beating of his own heart. The strained rasps that were supposedly his breathing.

All he could feel was the searing pain in every part of his body as it was placed under heavier loads of stress. He remembered how desperately he wanted his body to give up on him. He was dying anyways right? So it wouldn't matter.

But it didn't and for hours and hours it all became worse.

He remembers when it was over. When he was able to break out and free himself.

Only for the pain to return. He remembered the metal poll being shoved through his chest. And hearing it creek as Francis bent it over trapping him on it.

The taste of blood in his mouth as he spat up tattered pieces of his internal organs.

He remembered the hours he had taken to pry himself off the thing. Silently begging that he would just die in the process. But he didn't. And then he spent more hours in the rubble as the hole in his chest closed up. Only for the building to collapse on him and him to pass out. Or die. He didn't know which. Either way, it wasn't permanent enough.

Francis stupid face was all he could see. His voice all he could hear.

"What's my name?" He called, but Wade refused to give him that satisfaction. Refused to allow his face fucker to hear the way his voice might tremble if he said it.

And then in a flash, he was gone and instead he watched as the mercenary pulled the trigger. And Vanessa dropped to the floor.

Wade instinctively reached for Baby Knife who was under his pillow and thrust it into her killer.

Just a Logan protracted his claws and shoved them into the cold dead eyes of Stryker who had taunted him about the monster he had become.

But Wade wasn't killing the masked Merc and Logan wasn't face to face with Stryker.

Instead when they opened their eyes they saw each other.

Wade was hovering over Logan his blade in Logan's neck. Right between his shoulder and his nape. And Logan's claws were in Wade's chest. Blood oozing out of the puncture and dripping onto his bare chest.

The two of them scrambled away from each other freighted. Wade yelped as Logan pulled his claws out of him and he proceeded to fall of the bed. The fall adding to the throbbing, burning pain in his chest.

Logan desperately clutched at the knife in neck feeling blood pool in his mouth. He yanked it out and dropped into on the bed as he spluttered. Coughing blood all over the sheets.

Wade had tears streaming down his face and Logan's eyes were wide with horror.

Logan spat out the blood as his wound began to close and he scrambled out of bed over to Wade. Wade was sitting curled into his chest. The blood staining his t-shirt and pants as he held his knees as close to his chest as he could.

Logan wrapped his arms around Wade and sat with him on the floor. His whole body was shaking as his hair stood on end.

The two of them were breathing heavily. Wade's groaning was punctured with sobs as his organs and ribs repaired themselves.

When Logan's neck had healed enough to allow him to talk again he pulled away from Wade but didn't let go.

"Wade it's not your fault. And I- fuck. I didn't know it was you. I didn't see you"

Wade looked up at Logan from where he was crouching in front of him. His hands still gripping Wade's shoulders.

Logan half expected him to make a joke about penetration but all Wade could muster was a weak pathetic "He wouldn't stop"

Logan knew he was talking about Francis. He had told him all about what happened to him years ago.

Wade had probably just relived it all like he did countless times every night.

"M'sorry Lo"

"You're fine. Healed see?" He touched his neck to prove the wound had almost closed up.

Wade simply put his head into his knees and continued to cry.

It wasn't often Logan saw Wade like this, it had scared the shit out of him the first time it had happen. When one of these nightmares had consumed Wade in his sleep.

But I guess everything isn't like what you always see on screen, is it?

Logan sighed and picked him up, no strain at all, and sat down on the bed. His back rested against the headboard as Wade curled up on his lap. His legs less tightly pulled to his chest as he half laid on the bed and half laid on Logan

Logan ran his hand over Wade's head and back. Stroking him softly to try and ground and calm him. Not to let him slip away again into that horrible place.

It helped him not to slip away too

"I'm sorry Logan. I didn't mean it"

"I know you didn't, bub"

Wade couldn't stand the thought of hurting Logan. He never wanted to hurt the ones he loved. But he always managed to get them hurt. He got Vanessa killed, he watched as Colossus got beat to a pulp and Negasonic almost got crushed to death. He watched as the entire X-Force was slaughtered. And he remembered all the nights he had woken up like this. Having hurt Logan, again

Logan was frustrated. His actions were always violent. He always attacked first and asked questions later. He kept fucking hurting Wade. He was ashamed and frustrated and afraid. He was worried one to many nightmares would lead Wade to kicking him out. Sending him packing because Wade realised that Logan was too much of an unstable monster to be kept around.

"I'm sorry too"

"You don't need to say sorry. You just watched you whole family get killed"

Logan laughed humorlessly at the blunt but accurate statement. Wade also knew what went on in Logan's dreams. Wade knew how badly Logan had lost people.

The two of them stay curled up like that in silence for ages. The moon beginning to set over the horizon.

"You could never hurt me. Not where it matters. You know that right" Logan said it. It wasn't really a question. It was more of a reassurance, a statement that Wade couldn't do it. But he wanted to make sure Wade knew that as well

Wade hesitated but Logan felt him nod his head softly against Logan's chest.

"And I've had worse. You stabbed me in the balls remember?"

Logan grunted "Yeah. I remember"

The two of them didn't say anything else. Having said their apologies they couldn't think of more to bring up. They just needed to sleep.

And so Logan sunk down in the bed and Wade shuffled over. This time the two of them fell asleep. Wade's back pressed to Logan's chest and they slept until the mid afternoon.

Their presence was the only thing that brought the other peace.

I hope you enjoyed this! It was really have and maybe a little ooc on my part but I tried my best. I hope I did it justice.

[thataddylady]

Analysis: Phillip Crane 'To Sir Phillip with Love' Pt. 1

So I was asked to do a fleshed out analysis of Phillip Crane as a character and what on earth is so appealing about his romance with Eloise for those of us who loved not only her character but her book as well. It was meant to be one post but honestly it turned into a novella so I'm gonna do this in sections. His book with Eloise was my favorite in the Bridgerton series. Phillip Crane is a very complex character. He isn't charming or dashing, he isn't setting off fireworks anywhere. The ones who aren't a fan think he is a toxic rapist at worst or a boring nerd at best. I am not here to argue against that case. I'm just gonna make mine.

Regarding Sir Phillip

Before I can get into why I loved him with Eloise, I thought I'd do a breakdown of Phillip and his back story as presented in the books. So much of his character and mannerisms are informed by his history so to miss it is to misunderstand him IMHO.

Phillip Crane as a character, is a deeply emotionally scared man. He has so much compounded trauma it's not funny, starting from his father's abuse from childhood onwards, his brother's death, his marriage to Marina and ultimately her death which was both tragic and traumatic. Now I know many of you who are familiar will go "She was depressed for ten years and ultimately committed suicide, how is this HIS tragedy?" This is a fair point to bring up. #man pain. I will get to that, I promise.

The book however only has Phillip's POV and when it opens he is six months out from her funeral so not much time has passed. A snapshot of Phillip's life as presented in the book is he and his brother suffered from horrific abuse at the hands of their father. He has visible scars on his back as an adult from the beatings he endured as a child. His escape was two things, his brother George and attending school. He's a plant nerd, and he comes into his own through academic scholarship. His brother, who was a real paragon by all accounts dies at Waterloo, and Phillip is yanked out of school by his father for more abuse to whip him into shape as his heir. Part of this is forcing Phillip to marry Marina. They are both still mourning his brother. His father as some point drops dead of a heart attack right in front of Phillip mid abusive diatribe and Phillip inherits the baronet.

From Phillip's recollections he and Marina were had a decent marriage until her depression becomes extremely bad after the birth of the twins. There is an unfortunate scene (not the first in the Bridgerton series) where Phillip visits Marina at night after receiving permission from her. The sex is horrible because she is not in a good place and he doesn't clock it until it is too late. Going off of their previous times having sex he assumes he is doing something wrong which is why she is not responding. He doesn't realize that she is in fact legitimately not in the mood and her consent in her current mindset is not reliable.

Is it well written? We can debate it. But what it is meant to convey is a tricky situation where sexual consent used to mean something and now it does not. This experience ends up being scaring for both of them because even though he received consent which used to be reliable, this time it was not and he feels like he raped his wife. Marina is upset because the whole experience was probably demeaning for her and she isn't in a place where she can understand or communicate her wants or needs. There are those who argue that Phillip is a rapist but to me seeking consent and receiving it moves this more into really bad or traumatic sex. The consent is never rescinded.

At worst he should have noticed sooner, but at best he's better than Daphne.

Either way this event sets the tone for the next decade of Phillip and Marina's marriage. He swears off sex with her because he realizes that she isn't in a place to consent to it, and instead spends the years raising their two children and trying to help her out of her depression. With what is available to him he does his best but a modern audience knows that this is a losing battle for both of them once Marina's depression becomes what we would classify as clinical. In the end after a decade long struggle on both their parts, Marina tries to drown herself. Phillip stops her and she succumbs to 'lung fever' or some related illness shortly after.

About Marina

Marina Crane is a tragic character; she loses George (Phillip's older brother) the love of her life and is forced to marry his brother with little ceremony or time to grieve. She is written as already having issues with depression before the death of her fiancé, and develops what seems to be postpartum depression after the birth of her two children with Phillip which is left untreated (cause it's 1800') and it devolves over her marriage with Phillip. Because this is set in the 1800's there is no real help for the level of depression Marina suffers from for a decade. She is unable to connect with her children or live well, her husband is unable to help her and in the end she dies from the effects of a su**ide attempt locked inside her own personal hell. It is rough going.

Now while it is true that Marina is a tragic figure, I feel that it is too easily ignored that Phillip is as well. He is someone who has compounded trauma, who also had no escape from his situation and is doing his best to help someone who cannot be helped without any proper tools or assistance at all. He's not Mr. Rochester in Jane Eyre who's annoyed about his mentally ill wife and locks her in the attic and denies her existence. He actively tries to help Marina any way he knows how. He seeks advice from neighbors or health professionals, tries every approach and nothing is effective.

Just as Marina was trapped in a marriage with a man she didn't love with an illness she couldn't win against, Phillip was also trapped in a marriage with someone who couldn't communicate, who was a ghost of themselves and everything he does is ineffective.

In this day and age with the medicine and knowledge we have the awareness around mental illness is still sorely lacking, but it is a better understanding than the 19th Century.

All of this is to say both can be and are true. They are both victims of a series of tragic and unfortunate events and circumstances.

There is a reason there are support groups not only for those with depression but the caretakers of those with clinical depression and those who have lost loved ones to it. It is deeply traumatic to feel that you are the reason someone cannot get out of bed in the morning, that if you just tried harder they would be able to pull themselves out of it. If you have been in close to someone who is depressed clinically or otherwise, you know it takes a toll watching it. The longer you are witness to it the harder it is to stay 'logical' about the truth of what is happening. That it isn't personal, the individual isn't "not trying" because of self pity or laziness, they simply cannot control their thoughts or emotions.

If you are a person who encounters it upon occasion it is a bummer but you can shake it off. If you are living with someone suffering from it, it is mental and emotional torture, especially when you feel responsible and ARE responsible for the person's health and wellbeing. The feelings it engenders are dark and complicated. It leaves you twisting between bitterness that they won't try harder, shame that you didn't try harder or be better to help them and are blaming them for your incompetency and grief over the fact that they are slipping away and you cannot help. There is also a 50/50 shot between anger and numb resignation about the entire situation.

These are Phillip's actual feelings when it comes to Marina. Phillip does not see himself as a victim of her depression. He's not just 'pissed that he couldn't get laid by his sad wife'. He's someone who is trying to cope with the result of being handed a series of increasingly bad cards with no room or space or help to manage it all.

He has been second choice his whole life and by all appearances (to his mind) has failed to be the person he was meant to be. Namely, his brother George. George dies because he's serving his country while his baby brother gets to go to learn about plants. His father is abusive and dies because Phillip wasn't good enough to match George. Marina took her life because Phillip wasn't George.

He cannot separate his marriage from his grief over his brother that he never got to process, his feelings about watching his parent drop dead and the life he's been enduring since birth. It has been blow after blow by the time we meet him in the first chapter and it is probably the first time in over a decade that he has time to begin to process his life.

Only he can't because he has two children who are used to having their father around and don't understand why he locks himself away in his green house all day and cannot play with them.

Ok I think that's enough about Phillip, Part 2 will tackle him and Eloise in the book.

Feel free to leave your thoughts but I am not gonna tolerate attacks. If you have beef keep scrolling please.

@whatsaweekend here's the first part of what you inflicted on yourself LOL.

[ca-suffit]

Do you believe lestat would've saved claudia if he had the strength to save both cause i saw alot of people say that Jacob too

I'm combining this with this other ask too

Did you see Jacob saying that in the trial (where they are gonna die where Claudia is gonna die) Louis hates Lestat but also falls in love with him again? Like what is that... :/

a) re: Claudia. It was not my initial reaction to agree with hearing that when Jacob said that, but having read the books and based on some other things I'll explain in a sec......yes, it's prbly true.

I don't remember if this was a fandom post here or not, but wherever I saw it, there was a post once getting into how someone can care about u but still harm u. This is usually the biggest disconnect between the fandom (and sometimes Sam Reid himself) and the character of Lestat. In his book, he talks about how he cares about Claudia. U do see examples of it in the show as well. But overall how much did *she* rly feel that from him? How much did he explain the motivation of his actions that hurt her? How many times did he chose the cruelest way to do anything? The fandom is ready to always excuse everything away bcuz of whatever reason in his backstory explains it. Does Claudia ever know this tho? What does his trauma matter to her when he's only passing it on to her in different ways?

There's been a lot of good comments I've seen regarding how he defends her in the trial rehearsals too. How he's allowed to abuse her but nobody else is. How he can compliment her there finally bcuz she's under the scrutiny of others and *now* that's his daughter, *now* that's his blood. I mean, he was always seen bragging when she'd "take after him" before too, but u know what I mean. There are multiple ways to look at all of this and I think they all should be considered. That is the point of the show. Book ppl who are only looking to excuse their fav character are missing a lot of commentary regarding patriarchy, race, father / daughter relationships and whatever else.

The trial, to a degree, does follow the books and Lestat *is* shown being distraught at Claudia's death there too. It's not an act but we haven't gotten more of the pieces yet from the show canon. It also doesn't mean he's going to suddenly change to become another character. A majority of what Louis is haunted by regarding Claudia is based in all the ways he feels like he failed her. That will most likely be Lestat's perspective too. A lot of their shared grief is how much they fucked up someone else's life bcuz of their relationship and how she ultimately suffered the most bcuz of it. This is a common struggle for parents to examine as their kids grow up and give feedback on the experiences of being raised by ppl who maybe didn't have their shit together v well.

b) re: Loustat at the trial. This again ties back to their history as a couple and as parents, as well as both coming from abusive pasts. On the surface, it makes no fucking sense why Louis would be sitting there having *any* positive thoughts about Lestat in that moment. But he's been hallucinating him for so long and waiting for him to be real again that some part of it is still a relief. Circumstances being what they were, when they first made eye contact, u can see and feel the shift. It's even timed in Armand's notes.

Louis has always struggled to "hate" Lestat. He wouldn't have been able to kill Lestat if Claudia hadn't been there, u see him struggle in the 70s interview, u see him struggle in the Dubai interview. Lestat is the first real relationship he ever had. Louis comes from trauma and is drawn to trauma and he passes on trauma to Claudia too. This is Lestat too. This is a large part of why their relationship and all of these relationships are so compelling. It's real, it's tragic, it's fucked up. Louis continuously wants to be with Lestat but also kill Lestat and it's for so many different reasons. Some are all about Lestat and some are about Louis and his own self-loathing.

Being raised in trauma makes u easily susceptible to codependency. Abuse can deepen this bcuz it can make a relationship feel more "real," especially if that's what ur brain has associated with "this is what being loved feels like" (which is what happens if ur abused as a kid by ppl u rely on to survive). It's been established that Louis doesn't like "boring," but stuff like this is not sustainable either, even for vampires. We're still in the "idk wtf I'm doing" stage of anything for all of them and we'll have to see where the show is taking us for what direction this goes in over time.

I mean, this scene sums it all up p well.

[verysium]

“the abused become the abuser” is the perfect description of Kaiser and i have to agree on your opinions on his backstory and when you said that in one of your posts. The amount of trauma he had survived, his mother leaving him alone with that shit excuse of a father that he lived and all of a beating from his father is heart shattering. Constant fear and pain in only things he knew while growing up, “if i fall, im gonna die” is practically his motto. Constantly stuck in a loop he is not even aware that he is apart of. He is not a bad person but he bites and wrestles yet he doesn’t know AND down enjoy it. He is not a violent man naturally and he doesn’t know why he bites.

(did i absolutely repeat that famous quote of a “isle of dogs” film, of course i did because it’s a perfect match for this)

🚬 *sighs in three octaves of melodrama* i'm not strong enough for this right now. gonna need to smoke ten full packs later just to forget about the eerie amount of similarities i have with said fictional character. i guess we're digging more up than flowers at this point in spring. we're digging up the skeletons too. of all the gut-wrenching character tropes to exist, kaiser just had to embody the worst ones. he becomes the very thing that he hates. he destroys everything he touches. he tries to escape his fate but ends up fulfilling it in the process.

i think the most horrible part of it all is the cyclical nature of his pain. everything in his family is passed down onto him. he acts just like his father, and he looks just like his mother. the one place where his parents are finally united in love is in the features of his own face. but even then, he's never satisfied with how he looks, constantly changing his appearance until he no longer recognizes himself in the mirror.

tbh this was a pandora's box because ever since his backstory dropped, everything kaiser has done in the past now has different meaning. he literally told ness a few chapters ago that the only time he ever felt genuine happiness was when he was destroying other people's lives. back then, it might've been interpreted as some sadistic tendency to crush other people's dreams in order to bring up his own. but now, it's more or less a reflection of his past. he was told that he ruined everything (his parent's marriage, his father's life, whatever potential happiness he could've had), so i guess he sort of internalized this cruelty.

i think kaiser is the type of person to hunger for fame not out of greed but out of desperate belief. he think that if he works hard enough, proves himself strong enough, climbs high enough, he can reach a point where no one will ever be able to touch him. and that also means no one will ever be able to hurt him.

[moistvonlipwig]

3, 12, 18, and 19 for teen wolf (no worries if you want to pass on any of them)?

3. screenshot or description of the worst take you’ve seen on tumblr

oh see now this question is impossible because teen wolf fandom is capable of producing bad takes that other fandoms can only dream of. "scott helping align a dog's broken leg in his capacity as an assistant vet tech is animal abuse." "stalia is problematic because malia is 45 in coyote years." "scott violated/raped derek" (re: a scene in which scott is forced under duress to make derek bite gerard, which derek only objected to because he did not know about scott's secret plan). "stiles is the only one who ever respected derek." "scott has been narrating the entire show to make himself look better." "deaton is shady and evil." "scott abused jackson" (a real thing someone sent to my inbox). even jeff davis got in on it with "kira's story didn't have anything left to explore." however despite stiff competition i do think we have to give this award to "scott is a werewolf colonizer" because there is something so special about accusing a mexican boy of colonizing the culture of white people who are living in california. and also because it is so so funny to say.

12. the unpopular character that you actually like and why more people should like them

hm. i don't know if i like any characters who are unpopular within the fandom circles i travel in. like certainly scott is unpopular with the fandom at large, we know this, but i don't travel in those circles so. idk. i guess i think victoria argent is interesting? imo after allison she's the most compelling argent. i think killing yourself rather than becoming a werewolf shows a kind of commitment to one's ideology that automatically makes a character interesting. i don't know what the popular opinion on victoria argent is but that's my take.

18. it’s absolutely criminal that the fandom has been sleeping on…

see again i could point to fandom at large for this but frankly fandom at large sleeps on anything that isn't sterek or steter so i could say anything and it would be true. so my actual answer is that i think more people should ship theo/mason. i get why sceo is popular but i don't know why thiam is so big when...thason? meo? (personally i am voting for meo as a ship name because it looks like meow. however i am willing to be overruled.)...is right there. one of my actual most unpopular opinions is idgaf about morey because i couldn't care less about corey. i don't even know that boy's last name. he's nothing to me. but theo/mason??? both of them experimented on by the dread doctors, one of them 'evil' and the other 'good' (too 'good' to be traumatized, if you ask jeff davis, which is why you should never ask jeff davis), one of them so compassionate and caring, the other callous and lacking empathy, on opposite sides of the fight, yet both bound by the same trauma, and both deep inside wanting to help? look i'm not a big m/m shipper so i'm not gonna write the fic but SOMEONE should write the fic. is what i'm saying.

19. you’re mad/ashamed/horrified you actually kind of like…

disclaimer i am not ashamed of liking anything because, to paraphrase the great cordelia chase, shame is not something to be proud of. however i am a little mad that stiles and derek genuinely have such a fun relationship. i do actually wish they had more scenes together and i would happily watch an entire episode that was just the two of them on a buddy cop roadtrip and if people wrote more platonic fic of them with their canon personalities being forced into Situations together then i Would read it. i don't ship them because it's not my cup of tea shipping-wise and i think fanon sterek is nothing like canon sterek and is deeply uninteresting but in the year 2024 i must confess that canon stiles & derek did make some points.

[time222pretend]

ok i've been hype as hell for opening day but i wasn't smart enough to draft an intro so apologies bc i'm writing this as fast as i can to get it out on the dash. anyways this is yang hyein aka the yang canon and under the cut is a tl;dr (that's actually long as hell) about hyein (tho tw abuse) and please give this a like if you're interested in plotting!

ok so important part first: libra sun, aqua moon, pisces rising

now the rest: only child of yang sihyuk the current patriarch of the yang family and bc she's a girl she's the last of the yang line so like imagine growing up with that pressure

and tbh her dad like lowkey (highkey) resents her for being born a girl and like tbh bro didn't want to marry her mother anyways so like really was just another strike against her as far as her dad was concerned

and like bro also was very much in competition with park i's father so like the yang vs park competition was INCREDIBLY real in his mind so like again having a daughter by a lady he didn't even fucking want like it was like he lost in a way so like def punished hyein even tho like bro it was your sperm that determined the biological sex but anyways

so like idk growing up her dad def used the bible to enforce his will but also justify his actions and like explain away his like shitty behavior (ie cheating on his wife like abusing his family emotionally and physically bc he's frustrated with his own life)

and like tbh hyein tried very hard to be a very good girl and like present that way bc like if she did she kind of sort of gained her dad's approval but like also she was raised in a way where like ok your dad treats you like shit but also constantly reminds you that you're better than the rest so you need to act like you're better than the rest and be the girl they think you are

and tbh it was a lot easier to be that way as a kid bc she had a mother who like tbh had nothing better to do so she just fully invested into her daughter and was super overbearing

but her mom passes away when she's 12 and like idk the whole illusion kinda like starts to break apart from there bc part of it is like going from always being monitored and like having too much attention to just having none and her dad not giving a shit about her so long as she's out of sight out of mind paired with starting puberty and feeling rebellious and stuff

but like her dad is not about to be actively publicly embarrassed by a daughter he didn't want so like kinda does the whole double life thing where as like you know publicly she's still a good church girl sits in the front pew whatever and like idk outside of church though she starts hanging out with kids she shouldn't (s/o jeongbin, park ii, bae, and moon) and smoking and drinking and whatever and like a dumb part of her kinda thought like ok this is how life is gonna be and in a fucked up way she can be like her dad and present one day and have her private life be that

only like shit kinda never works out that way bc we all know what happens to jeongbin and tbh she never talks about that but like safe to say she was actually in love with jeongbin though their relationship genuinely was kind of fucked up and one of those things where like when you're raised by a bad man you seek out shitty men but she did love him

and idk after her went "missing" i think tbh part of her went missing with him like she got a lot colder and tbh she hardly ever talks about him ever again and like lmao gets engaged to his cousin and keeps it like business is moving but like idt she ever like processed the trauma she just moved on the way she did and the way she knows how to do things is pretend everything is fine and good

only she kinda girlbosses to close to the sun bc like a couple events happen simultaneously, she and park i get engaged, and like her dad has a stroke (which tbh probs from the stress of her getting engaged to the son of his rival but WHATEVER), and she starts having these honestly terrifying dreams of jeongbin being PISSED at her and they feel so real the shit is starting to scare the fuck out of her

and it all culminates bc one day like a little before the wedding she finds this dead fox on her doorstep and it's been mutilated and like tbh i think it was the straw that broke the camel's back for her and pushed her over the edge and she literally was just like "fuck it" stole some money from her dad and just skipped town

and then the subsequent 8 years as far as hyein is concerned are redacted like no one needs to know what she was up to, or what she did or why like if you ask her what went on while she was gone she's just like "huh? what are you talking about" like let me gaslight u into thinking nothing happened even tho like girl you came back even colder than you were before and like you seem more concerned with your position in life clearly something happened

and the something that happened is like a girl who got catered to her whole life had to meet the real world and it was a fucking rude awakening

but anyways she FINALLY comes back to goero in january of 2023 even though she'd been back in korea for a few months and tbh she came back bc like jeongbin's official funeral but also like tbh idk if you've been treated like shit for 8 years suddenly all the shit you went through growing up doesn't seem so bad and like it feels nice to be home

even tho home is like worse in some ways bc her dad has had a few more strokes since she's been gone and her stepmom (we don't have time to get into that girl) and aunt have been "running" the family business and by that like bro running that shit into the ground so like hyein is happy to be home but also like coming in on a fucking mess and at the end of the day it's HER inheritance they're fucking up so like she literally has just stayed in town and like took her dad's spot on the elder council and been fighting with members of her own family to like get control of shit so she can fix it

and tbh incidentally like her taking over for her family's timber business actually ends up helping a bunch of people working at the mill which cool for them she was just fixing the business bc she's been a broke loser for 8 years and she's fucking done with it adn the company was super mismanged but i guess it's nice some people benefit

but tbh like even though she's benefitting people and tbh fr stepping more into her power and the role she has people like def resent her bc girl you've been gone all this time and now you're just gonna run shit like nothing happened? and hyein who in goero was never told no is just like "yeah i am" and not apologize for it

bc if she were a man it'd be fine but she's a woman so like anyways yeah probs has a reputation for being a bitch and like judging by her actions in the past like they're def not wrong like lmao she def takes what she thinks belongs to her no questions asked but like tbh she actually means well and like what not so yeah

i could've added more but this is long as hell so hmu for plotting and i apologize for talking too much i'm just excited

[dirty-droid]

Huge same lmao

I remember as a kid some characters were becoming my favourites PRECISELY because they were badly hurt or traumatised and watching it I was like "oh damn, I feel so bad for them, it makes me feel an EMOTION."

Some people assume it's a form of sadism, but imo it's like the exact opposite. You want them to be hurt because it makes you feel compassion for them and the emotion of it is so strong it's addicting. Like no other thing makes you root for a character as strongly as living through their traumatic experience with them

(while at the same time just being told about some sad backstory doesn't always work and sometimes accomplishes the exact opposite because it feels like an author is cheating by attempting to make you, as a viewer, feel sympathy without actually making you live with them through some shit. Also the opposite is true, and characters that are nothing but a punching bag of the narrative are getting exhausting to tolerate pretty damn fast)

I see you've seen my tags 😅 yeah I had a whole phase in middle school, when H*rry P*tter was popular, being obsessed with Sirius Black and all the depression and abuse and suffering in his story, like THAT was my first fandom experience.

I don't have anything against the sadism, but I think a lot of it is just more, like, masochism. It's a way of processing your own unspoken trauma, I was getting bullied at school, in a controlling environment at home, and my autism was still undiagnosed, ya boy wasn't doing well at those young ages and it's so cathartic to know that you're not alone.

It is absolutely addicting though, the high stakes, the big emotions, the way that fear passes through you when it's not real. I think I had a little bit of a fandom theory the other day, because we've all seen the posts about how a mediocre, or even shitty piece of media will drive a fandom nuts because it gives you something to latch onto long term in a way that something that's truly really well done won't. Eventually you run out of things you talk about, right? Well I think the exception is something that's well done- but fucked up. Hannibal still trends weekly around here, and it was executed wonderfully, it's a very well done story... And it's fucked up. It's spicy, it's different, it gives it that staying power

I'm rambling, but I totally agree on that show/tell thing, i think it's just... Maybe it's the predictability too, a punching bag is just gonna keep being a punching bag. And a sad backstory for a character you don't like is only going to be annoying because you weren't going to like them in the first place!

[ambrossart]

PAPER MEN

— CHAPTER 28

SUMMARY: All Evelyn Tozier wanted to do was make Derry High School a safer place for her kid brother. Well, somewhere between kissing Patrick Hockstetter and telling the principal to go f*** himself, things got a little off track. Now she’s stuck in the middle of a bizarre love triangle with two of Derry’s most troubled teens while her little brother and his friends hunt down a creepy, child-eating circus clown. This year, summer can’t come fast enough. PAIRINGS: Henry Bowers x Tozier!Sister; Patrick Hockstetter x Tozier!Sister WARNINGS: violence, profanity, sexual content, bullying, sexual assault, physical abuse, emotional abuse, all kinds of abuse, trauma, mental illness, implied/referenced self-harm, child death, angst, lots of angst, recreational drug use, underage drinking, underage sex, love triangles, toxic relationships, slow burn, slow build

WORD COUNT: 11,533

MASTERPOST

MASTERLIST

"See? Bitch!"

Christie's words sailed down the hallway and struck Evelyn on the back of the head, making her stop mid-stride. A gasp gathered in her chest as the hallway seemed to close in around her. Student faces blurred together. Sounds became muffled, all but the thunderous beating of her heart. I wasn't being a bitch, Evelyn thought, unaware of the students who gave her curious glances as they passed. I said hi, didn't I? What more do you want from me? Should I have gone up to you and shaken your hand? Said, "Oh my god, congratulations, I'm so thrilled for you two"? Because I am, I really am, I just...

(Bitch!)

Guilt and shame mixed uneasily in Evelyn's stomach. It made her feel nauseous. Made her want to walk back over to them and apologize profusely like an embarrassed little girl at a grown-up's dinner party. Oh please, oh please, don't be mad! I'm sorry if I came off a little rude earlier. I'm just having a bad day, that's all. Please don't take it personally, Christie. Pretty please? Pretty please with sugar on top? I'd really like for us to be friends.

Yes.

Friends. 

That's what I do. I make nice. I make friends. I make lemonade from lemons and turn rain clouds into rainbows. 

Well, I'm not in the mood for rainbows, Evelyn thought, and kept walking. Anger simmered inside her stomach now, and she made no effort to cool it down. I have enough lemonade, I have enough friends, and I'm not gonna apologize to Christie Gibson! Why should I? I didn't do anything wrong! She's the one who bombarded me in the hallway, smelling like Vic's bedroom, casually tossing around Mrs. Criss's first name like they're best friends. I've known Mrs. Criss my whole life, and she'd never let me call her 'Tabby'... not that I've ever really asked...

Sarah Tolleson, Evelyn's locker neighbor, said bye to Evelyn as she walked by. Evelyn, distracted as she was, said nothing back.

"Bitch," Sarah muttered under her breath. "Well, fuck you too, then."

Evelyn opened her locker, hung her backpack on the hook, and absentmindedly began gathering her textbooks one by one: English, psychology, world history...

So Christie wants to talk about Vic, huh? What could she possibly have to say to me about Vic? What, does she need gift ideas for Christmas? Buy him a bong or something, I don't know... Evelyn shoved her biology book into her bag and paused for a moment, lost in thought. She returned in a near-daze and, forgetting herself, pulled out the same book and put it back on the shelf. Oh, then she calls out to me in the hallway while she's with him, so I'd have to SEE them together. What the hell was that about, huh? Did she wanna gloat over her victory? Was she trying to get me to admit I'm jealous? Okay, fine, I'm jealous. I'm very, very jealous!

All Evelyn ever got from Victor Criss was cold distance and doors slammed in her face. Secret notes. Broken promises. He'd draw her in and then push her way. Get her hopes up only to smash them to itty bitty pieces. No matter how hard she tried, he refused to let her get close to him. And now, after wasting ten years of her life, she had to accept that this was as close as she was ever going to get: this friendship with a little asterisk next to it. They were friends, sure, but only when no one else was around. It wasn't fair.

Vic was with her—in front of everybody, and he didn't even seem embarrassed by it. How could he do that with her but not with me?

Probably for the same reason Christie Gibson won the student council vote.

Because Christie was cool and Evelyn wasn't. Christie listened to rock music, dyed her hair fun colors, and had a butterfly tattoo on her lower back. Evelyn wore knit sweaters and could hardly name a current song on the radio (she listened to Olivia Newton-John from time to time, but nobody would be very impressed by that). Yeah, Christie Gibson was the fun, laid-back rocker chick. She probably spent her nights going to parties and concerts. Evelyn, meanwhile, spent her nights studying and doing arts and crafts on her bedroom floor... making dozens of paper flowers for a sign that nobody cared about.

You know you're quite the artist.

Isn't that what Patrick Hockstetter had said? Yeah, he had. Last night, he was mesmerized by a tiny white daisy. It was such an insignificant little thing, yet he stared at it like it was something special, like Evelyn had somehow made a realdaisy bloom in the palm of her hand. It seemed strange for her to be thinking of that now.

Stranger still was the smile that came to her face when she did.

But then Evelyn thought of that shapeless violet, purple as the fading bruise on her neck, and her smile instantly vanished. She pushed the thought away and started unloading her backpack again.

Everyone thinks I'm annoying. Just Little Miss Busybody. I'm not cool like Christie Gibson. I'm not sexy like Manda Bosch. I'm just... just—

A long, slender finger poked Evelyn's shoulder twice, jolting her from her thoughts. She jumped away from it, startled. Her stack of books went leaning, leaning... leaning way too far! A dreadful moan sounded in her throat. She tried to correct the lean, failed, and clutched the two bottommost books to her chest while the rest went tumbling to the floor. Her disheartened sigh crashed against a boy's cry of panic:

"Oh, great," Evelyn said.

"Oh, God!" said the boy.

They dropped to their knees at the same time, hands bumping as they reached for Evelyn's psychology book. The boy made a whimpering noise and recoiled from her with a snap of his wrist. Evelyn followed his fleeing hand and saw it bury itself in a small nest of copper-red curls.

"I'm so sorry, Evelyn! I don't know what I was thinking, sneaking up on you like that. My mom always gets mad at me when I creep up on her in the kitchen, but I just can't help it. See, I used to make too much noise when I walked, and she would yell at me to stop dragging my feet, so I overcorrected and now I make too little noise. I didn't think that was possible, but someone how I managed. God, I'm so hopeless."

Evelyn blinked her eyes in disbelief. Soft blue eyes blinked back at her.

"Denny!"

Denny Booker responded with a frog-like croak, as if surprised by his own name. "Oh, uh... hi."

Overjoyed, Evelyn put down her books and wrapped her arms around Denny's scrawny shoulders, hugging him tightly just as she had in his kitchen the Wednesday before. Denny's face flushed with heat. As soon as their bodies made contact, his back went rigid as a plank and his skinny arms flattened against his sides.

"Sorry," Denny said once they parted. "I'm really bad at hugs, especially with, with girls. I just don't... see, I don't really know where to put my hands, if that makes sense. I'm always worried I'm gonna touch something I'm not supposed to."

Like what? Evelyn almost asked, bewildered, but she figured that would've only embarrassed him more.

Instead, she said, "It's fine, Denny. I'm just glad you're back. You are back, right?"

She stood, brushing loose specks of dirt off her stockings. Denny got up, too. He wore his backpack with both straps and kept fidgeting with the loose ends.

"Yeah... well, kinda. I just came today to drop off my homework assignments. Tomorrow's my first real day back. Oh, here, your books."

Denny bent down, picked up Evelyn's scattered books, and handed them to her with a sweet, unaffected smile. Evelyn thanked him sincerely and put them away in her locker.

"So—" Evelyn began.

"Hey, it's the Book Man!" 

They spotted Scott Kellerman at the other end of the hallway. He had been strolling through the freshmen locker area, thinking of fun, creative ways to kill a couple minutes. Now he was jogging toward them. Smiling, of course. Scott Kellerman was always smiling. He stopped briefly to give another one of his friends a high five. "Toodles, my good dude," Scott said to him. Then he rushed over to Denny and tackled him with a giant bear hug.

"What's up, buddy?" Grinning, Scott slapped his hands onto Denny's shoulders and gave him a brain-rattling shake that made Evelyn cringe and think, Oh, poor Denny. "Look at you, all rosy-cheeked and gorgeous! How you doin', man?"

"I'm, I'm good," Denny replied. "Hap-happy to be back."

"Shit, dude, you had us all freaked out in homeroom. People thought you were dying or something. As for me, I was getting ready to start sending around the ole donation jar like we did for J-Bird that one time. You remember that? 'Help, my brother needs a new kidney!' Nobody donated, though. Bummer. I guess they don't care about pot-bellied pigs in this town, not even a cute one like J-Bird."

"Oh..." Denny frowned. "Well, I'm sorry for scaring everyone."

Scott just laughed his usual carefree laugh. "Hey, no worries, dude. We're just glad to have you back. Wait, you are back, right?"

Denny nodded. "Tomorrow. I'll be back tomorrow."

"Sweetness!" Scott said, and laughed again. "Well, hey, I gotta go, man. Got a client waiting for me." He backed away from them while humming an upbeat tune he made up on the spot. "Adios, mis amigos. That's Spanish, if you didn't already know. My teacher taught it to me today. That's right, my dudes, I'm one step closer to being bilingual, baby!" He fired off two gunshots with his fingers before disappearing around the corner.

A moment of silence passed. Then Evelyn turned to Denny and said, "Did he just say he's meeting a client?"

"Oh right, yeah... Skelly's got a little side business."

"A side business? Wow!" Imagine that, Scott Kellerman was a fifteen-year-old entrepreneur. Evelyn was very impressed, and a little confused. "So does he, like, make stuff?"

"More like grows it."

To clarify what he meant, Denny pressed his thumb and index finger together and touched them briefly to his lips. Miss Quaver, the home economics teacher, came strutting out of her classroom. Denny panicked and pretended to have an itch on his face.

"Hello, children," Miss Quaver said to them with a smile. "Nice to see you back, Denny."

"Hi, Miss Quaver," Denny said, a faint blush tickling his cheeks.

When she was gone, he and Evelyn collapsed into a fit of giggles that left Evelyn in tears and Denny hacking up phlegm. This made Denny terribly embarrassed. He wiped his mouth with his sweater sleeve and apologized. Evelyn, who had been snorting like a pig, told him not to worry about it.

"Wow," she said afterward, while dabbing her eyes dry, "Skelly's a pot dealer. How did I not figure that out sooner?"

Denny cleared his throat one more time. "You're just wonderfully naive, I guess."

They shared another chuckle over that. Evelyn's shoulders bounced as she laughed. Denny, more careful this time, kept his hand cupped shyly over his mouth.

Then he said, "So, wait, why was Skelly dressed like a surfer?"

"Oh, because it's Groovy Monday," Evelyn told him. "Skelly's a Beach Boy. He had a surfboard, but he accidentally smacked Principal Hellyer with it, so it got taken away."

"Right," Denny said, unsurprised. "Yeah, I guess that explains your outfit, too."

"Yeah..."

Evelyn tucked her chin into her chest and shuffled back a step, wincing as she felt that familiar sting of self-consciousness. Oh, why had Denny returned to school on Decade Day of all days? If he had waited until tomorrow, he would have seen Evelyn dressed in comfy cotton pajamas instead of this hideously short dress that, apparently, made her look like a damn streetwalker. She braced herself for another searing hot stare, but from Denny Booker, all she felt was the most genuine warmth. His blue eyes were clear and kind.

"You look really nice," he said, and that was all. "Oh, I have your biology notes!"

He shrugged out of his backpack's right shoulder strap and pulled Evelyn's notebook out of the main zipper compartment. "You take really good notes," he said before handing it to her.

Evelyn flashed a modest smile. "Well, I do pride myself on my note-taking. Last year, I got these totally awesome gel pens that completely changed the way I..."

(It's a pen, Evelyn)

Her expression darkened. "Never mind," she said under her breath. Last year didn't matter anymore. "Anyway, I'm glad you found them useful."

She put her notebook away. When she turned back, Denny was rubbing the back of his neck and frowning.

"Hey," he went on quietly, "I want to apologize for the way I acted when you came to visit me last week. I'm honestly really embarrassed about the whole thing. You probably thought I was having a total meltdown or something."

Evelyn shook her head. "No, I didn't think that at all. And you don't have to apologize, Denny, not for any of it. You were going through a lot that day."

Denny gave a doubtful but grateful smile. "I found my dog, by the way."

"Really? That's great!"

"Yeah, we got a call from one of our neighbors this morning. He said Mandy Fazio found her sniffing around the junkyard last night and was wondering who she belonged to. I have no idea what she was doing all the way over there, but we took her to the vet, and she's perfectly fine, so... I dunno, I guess it was just one of those strange coincidences, just like you said."

"Yeah," Evelyn said.

A strange coincidence, indeed.

I questioned Patrick about this last night. Now, all of a sudden—

Denny's face paled, and he drew back with fright. "Uhh... I have to go now."

"Huh? Why, Denny? Is everything all right?"

"Yeah, I just, uhh..." Denny dragged his fingers through his curls. His hairline was damp with sweat, Evelyn saw, and now it was trickling down his forehead. "I just remembered that I need to pick up something from the office, and I... I need to head over there before, you know, before they close for the day. See you tomorrow, Evelyn."

He staggered backward, spun around, and sped off down the hallway... in the opposite direction of the office.

Weird, Evelyn thought, her chest tight with worry. I hope he'll be okay to return tomorrow.

She stared down the hallway for a moment longer, wondering what unseen terror had set Denny off this time. Her answer came in the form of slow, plodding footsteps. She turned around and saw Patrick Hockstetter walking up to her with a lazy, swaying stride.

"What's his problem?" he asked, seemingly unaware.

Seemingly.

Evelyn's eyes sharpened into a suspicious glare.

"What?" Patrick said, blinking at her with that same dumb, oblivious expression. Then, slowly, his lips curled into a wide, open-mouthed grin. "Wait, was that...?"

"Oh, stop it already, Patrick. As if you don't know."

He tossed his head to the side. "What was his name again?"

"You know his name, Patrick. I refuse to believe you have no idea who your fellow classmates are."

This was all just an act, and a bad one at that.

She grabbed her biology book, put it in her bag, and left it there this time. That's right, Evelyn finally had her head screwed on properly again. She wasn't floating through space or wading through a deep sea of sad thoughts. She was here, grounded firmly in reality... and keenly aware of how close Patrick had gotten. His warm breath fanned the side of her face.

"Believe what you want," Patrick said, "but as far as I'm concerned, you and I are the only two people in this school."

Evelyn turned to meet his empty, probing stare. When she did, a chill ran up her spine. Looking into Patrick's eyes was kind of like staring into a void. It was like leaning over the side of a ship and gazing into the deep, dark ocean below. Your survival instincts tell you to step back from the edge and walk away, but before you do, a small part of you wonders, What if I jumped? 

Evelyn was hearing that voice now, tempting and frightening all at the same time. She pulled away from it, away from him, and said, "No offense, Patrick, but that sounds kinda like a nightmare."

"Really?" he said. "I think it sounds pretty nice."

His eyes told her he wasn't kidding. But he had to be, didn't he?

Another shiver rolled through her. Evelyn put the question behind her and finished packing up her homework.

"So," Patrick went on, leaning against the locker beside her, "did he finally find his dog?"

Evelyn's eyes sharpened again. Strange coincidence, my ass. 

"Oh my god!" she said.

"What?" Patrick asked, looking at her with genuine surprise.

No.

Seemingly genuine.

Evelyn jabbed at his chest with an accusing finger. "Oh, you... you are so transparent!"

"What? I'm just making conversation."

"Yeah, sure you are, Patrick."

"I am," he insisted. Then his eyes flattened. "Wait a second, you still think I took that dog, don't you? Listen, Evelyn, before last night I didn't even know who that kid was, okay? I mean, jeez... you torture a few puppies and you're branded a dog killer for the rest of your life. Where's the justice in that?"

"Yes, Patrick, you're the true victim in all of this."

"Whatever," he said. "I'm sick of talking about this. Anyway, what are you doing after school?"

Evelyn gave him a tired look.

"What?" Patrick said. "We're friends, right? Friends hang out after school."

"Don't you have detention?"

"In theory," Patrick answered, "but realistically, it wouldn't be too hard for me to slip away for a few minutes... you know, if you wanted to find an empty classroom and let me fool around under that cute little skirt of yours." He eyed it with a lustful smirk, then started teasing the hem with his fingers. "By the way, have I told you how much I like this outfit? You should dress like this more often."

And with that, down went the judge's gavel.

It's official: I'm dressed like a whore.

"The stockings kinda ruin it, though," Patrick finished, observing them with a frown. Shamelessly, he tried to sneak a peek under her skirt. Evelyn swatted his hand away without looking.

"It was forty degrees out this morning, Patrick."

"Is that cold?" he asked, but he didn't wait for Evelyn's answer. "So you wanna hang out or not?"

"Can't. I'm grading quizzes for Mrs. Lafferty."

It was part of Henry's plea deal. In exchange for Mrs. Lafferty's support, Evelyn agreed to grade her quizzes for the rest of the semester. And how did Henry pay her back? The only way he knew how: with cruelty and malice. No good deed goes unpunished, right?

"Oh?" Patrick said, sounding very intrigued. "And will you be alone while you're grading these quizzes?"

"No, Mrs. Lafferty will be there. She has a student staying late to take a quiz."

"Well, I don't mind an audience... although it might make you a little uncomfortable."

Evelyn heaved a loud, frustrated sigh. "Okay, I'm leaving now," she said, and closed her locker. When she tried to walk away, Patrick gently grabbed her wrist.

"I'm kidding, I'm kidding," he said, chuckling. "What are you doing on Friday night?"

"Friday's the homecoming game, Patrick."

"Okay, that means nothing to me... but I'm assuming you're going?"

"Yes, Patrick, everyone's going."

"Oh, everyone's going, huh?" His grey-green eyes gleamed. "So if I go, I'll probably see you there."

"Probably."

"Cool." Patrick smiled, very pleased. "We can hang out then."

"I don't think that's a good idea, Patrick."

Evelyn pulled her hand out of his grasp. Patrick frowned as he watched it slip away.

"Why?" he asked in a sullen voice. "You ashamed to be seen with me at a school event? Afraid of what your friends in the student council will think? What Jake Newham will think?"

"Of course not," Evelyn said, but she realized that was a lie. She was ashamed to be seen with Patrick, deeply ashamed, and now she felt like a total hypocrite.

Evelyn grunted low in her throat, regretting this decision with every fiber of her being. "Okay, fine, we can hang out at the homecoming game, but—" She raised her finger and spoke in her stern babysitter voice, the one she pulled out when a stubborn child refused to obey her. So far, she had only used it once: when Max Kenton wouldn't stop pulling his sister's hair, that little shit. "Don't ever interrupt my lunch meetings again, Patrick. Okay? I use those meetings to conduct very important business. The last thing I need is you feeling me up under the table."

"I thought that was a bug," Patrick said with a cheeky little smirk. Evelyn put her hand on her hip and raised her eyebrows, another trick from the babysitter's handbook. Patrick threw his head back and let out a disgruntled moan. "Okay, fine, I won't bother you at lunch anymore."

"Thank you." Evelyn smiled, pivoted on her heel, and walked away with a confident strut. Halfway down the hall, she stopped. "Oh, and I'm reenacting the 'No Touch' rule."

Patrick's jaw clenched. "What?"

"We're friends, right?" Evelyn wore a charming yet taunting smile. "Friends don't touch each other like that."

"Well, maybe not your friends," Patrick said, but ultimately he gave in. "All right, Evelyn, you win, but the same clause applies as before. Fair enough?"

Evelyn pressed her lips together tightly, holding in a laugh. "Sure, Patrick. When I beg you to touch me, feel free to go crazy." She released the laugh once her back was turned. It burst out of her in a series of giggles that rang throughout the hallway like the delightful tinkling of bells.

Patrick listened to it, smiling. "I plan to," he said to himself. Then, before she got too far: "Oh, Evelyn, just one more thing."

She turned around, still giggling. "Hm?"

"I love how you said 'when' and not 'if.'"

Evelyn's laughter caught in her throat, almost choked her.

Patrick's smile grew. "See you tomorrow, Evelyn." He backed away, slipped around the corner, and was gone.

Evelyn stood paralyzed, speechless, her face getting redder and hotter by the second. "That's just... semantics!" she declared, her arms flopping helplessly at her sides.

God dammit, she thought. How the hell does he do that?

It's because he's so attractive, that's what it is. Puberty screwed me over real good, but it gave him a massive growth spurt that turned him into a fricken Adonis. How is that fair? I get a flat chest, no hips, and Patrick gets the chiseled bone structure of a male model. Okay, I'm exaggerating. He's not that good-looking... No, actually he is that good-looking, and it's really unfortunate. If he looked like he did in elementary school, I wouldn't be in this predicament. He's vile and repulsive, but then he smiles and acts so weirdly charming. Oh my god, I hate that I just used the word "charming." But he is. He's grotesquely charming, if that's even a thing. Like most of the time I wanna slap him in the face for the shit he says, but other times, I wanna grab him and...

No. 

Wait. 

Oh my god, he's doing it again! 

Last night, he confessed to murdering cute, fluffy puppies—and I love puppies!—but I'm not even thinking about that right now. No, I'm too busy thinking about his hand under my skirt. I swear to God, if he ever tries something like that again, I'm gonna punch him in the face. Right in the middle of the lunch room, too. Who does that? A sexual deviant, for one. That was practically assault! But I have to smile and go along with it. I have to give him what he wants; otherwise, this torture will never end. 

Problem is, I have no idea what he wants. It's not sex, that's for sure. No, he's just using that to distract me... but from what?

Her steps slowed in the middle of the hallway. While contemplating Patrick's motives, Evelyn was fiddling with her right pinky: tracing over it with her thumbnail, bending it, squeezing it until the tip turned reddish purple. Down the hall was Mrs. Lafferty's classroom. The door was propped open, waiting for her to go inside. All right, that's enough now, Evie. She snapped out of her daze, picked up the pace and

"Bye, Manda!"

"See you tomorrow!"

froze as a senior brushed past her right shoulder.

"Whoops, sorry," the girl said, and Evelyn got a big whiff of her spicy, exotic Yves Saint Laurent perfume. It was a woman's fragrance, strong and intimidating, and it masked the soft, sweet, candy-like scent of Evelyn's drugstore perfume. The smell overwhelmed her for a second. Made her nose wrinkle in a silly, childish way. She recovered quickly and spun around just in time to catch a glimpse of the girl's long, thick fishtail braid as she went around the corner. Wrapped around the tail end, winking in the light, was a metallic silver scrunchie.

Evelyn's breath hitched. "That's..." and her feet moved on their own.

Inside the senior locker area, Manda Bosch was humming U2's "With or Without You" while she strolled toward her locker with her books cradled in her arms. The heels of her boots thumped against the tile. Her wide, womanly hips swayed sensually inside a pair of high-waisted, loose-fitting jeans. A black long-sleeve shirt, which she wore tucked, hugged her upper body like a second skin, showing off her ample curves.

Evelyn, who had no curves, was sick with envy. She crossed her arms over her small breasts, feeling unsexy and unfeminine, and thought, If I looked like that, then maybe... 

No.

She inhaled sharply, her brown eyes glazed with panic and fear.

No, I shouldn't be here. This was a mistake! Why did I think seeing her would make this any easier? I was having a hard enough time accepting that Henry had sex with someone else, and now that "someone else" has a name and a body and... and I don't think I can handle seeing her face right now. If I see her face, then it becomes real and

A single tear rolled down her cheek, her lips, her chin.

I should go, she told herself, and stepped back. Mrs. Lafferty's waiting for me. I promised I'd grade her quizzes and...

She took one step forward, then another.

Manda Bosch was standing in front of her open locker now, still humming, occasionally singing under her breath: "With or without you… With or without you, oh..." The inside of her locker was decorated with pictures of her friends, her family, and her longtime boyfriend, Matt Aikman, a freshman at USM. Manda was pulling books off the shelf and putting them away in her backpack. While she did this, Evelyn couldn't stop staring at her hands. Manda Bosch had these long, red, perfectly pointed fingernails, and they had cut Henry's face.

At first, the sight of them filled Evelyn with intense, overprotective rage. She wanted to storm up to her and say, "How dare you put your hands on him?" But that feeling passed so quickly. It was there one minute, burning her from the inside, and the next it was gone. It had cooled and hardened into a giant lump that sat in the pit of her stomach, and now a cruel voice was whispering,

What else did she do with those hands?

No, Evelyn didn't want to think about that, not now, not ever, but her mind started conjuring up images on its own. Casting them onto a giant silver screen. Manda Bosch running her hands through Henry's dirty blond hair. Brushing the side of his face with her fingertips. Slipping her hands underneath his shirt and touching him lightly, caressing his stomach, his chest, sliding around to feel the strong muscles of his back.

Evelyn watched the whole film from beginning to end, unable to look away. She was trapped in the middle of a crowded auditorium, strapped to a cushioned red velvet chair, unaware of the surprise waiting for her. It was Friday night at the Aladdin, and everyone in the audience was being treated to a special double feature. Two films. One night only. Buy your tickets in advance, folks, because this is one event you don't wanna miss! The first picture was one of the year's most-anticipated blockbusters, and the next one, well... that one was a classic. Yeah, even an out-of-touch workaholic like Evelyn would recognize that title. In fact, was one of her favorite films. She watched it every night.

In her bedroom.

Alone.

While she sadly traced over the wrinkles in her floral quilt.

Excited applause sprang up around her. Then the lights dimmed and the opening credits began to roll. As soon as the first name appeared on screen, Evelyn's stomach churned with dread. No, she couldn't bear to sit through this movie again. Not again. Not ever again. She got up and fought her way to the aisle, trampling women's purses, tripping over outstretched legs. All the moviegoers lashed out angrily: Get down! Get down, you're blocking the screen! I paid good money to see this flick! She ducked as a box of popcorn came flying at her. It went over her shoulder and exploded against the screen like a spray of fireworks, but Evelyn did not look. No, she would not look. She put her head down and kept moving, eyes closed to the intimate scene that was playing in front of everyone, ears shut to the men who whooped and wolf-whistled, the women who voiced quiet murmurs of disgust. Blind and deaf to it all, she stumbled into the aisle and went running for the exit.

Mr. Foxworth smiled as she passed, his eyes glowing eerily in the light. Don't you wanna see the ending? he said. The ending's the best part.

Evelyn turned back to look at him, her expression a mixture of shock and horror, and then she saw...

("Hey, you okay?")

saw the screen flickering, stuck on a single image. It burned away as a hand reached out from the darkness and landed on her shoulder.

("Hey... Hey!")

"Hey, space cadet!"

Evelyn emerged from her thoughts groggily, blinking. It was Manda Bosch, staring at her with dark chocolate brown eyes, the kind of eyes a boy could get lost in... Henry probably had, too.

(What else did she do with those hands?)

Evelyn flinched with sudden awareness. She looked down at her shoulder, saw the girl's hand, and wrenched away from it. Warily, Manda Bosch withdrew her hand and apologized. There was a small wrinkle between her perfectly shaped brows now. Her lips, red and full, had gathered into a concerned pout that somehow made her even more beautiful.

Did he let you kiss him? Evelyn wondered, devastated.

"Do you need something?" Manda asked, tilting her head. Her voice was melodious and sweet despite her confusion, much sweeter than Evelyn expected.

"Uhh... no," Evelyn said. She drew back a step and crossed her arms in front of her. "Sorry..."

Manda smiled awkwardly. Even that was pretty. "Okay, well... take it easy, okay?"

She made a vague gesture with her hand, circled around Evelyn's right, and started humming again as she walked toward the senior exit. Evelyn cupped her elbows with her palms and withdrew into herself, feeling more like a child than ever. She wanted to go home. She wanted to go home, bury herself under the covers, and forget this day ever happened.

But then she heard Manda's voice again

"Hey," she said, leaning away from the door, "cute dress, by the way."

and that was more than she could take.

Smiling to herself, Manda pushed on the door and walked out. While she strolled through the senior parking lot and swung her keys, while she drove home and sang along to her favorite song on the radio, Evelyn collapsed onto the senior couch, dropped her head into her hands, and sobbed.

"Well, that test sucked."

"Yeah, I hate when they sneak in an extra essay question at the end. What kinda sick, sadistic shit is that? Like I'm stressed out enough, thank you very much, and now you expect me to write a perfectly structured, five-paragraph response to your vaguely worded question? Fuck off with that bullshit. In conclusion, you're a crazy Nazi bitch and your class sucks!" 

"Whoa, did you seriously write that? 'Cause you would totally be my hero if you did."

"God, I wish I did... I swear, every time I see that woman, I just wanna—Evelyn!"

Evelyn dried her eyes as Elizabeth Mueller entered the senior locker area with Desiree Van Blair and Peter Gordon.

Unlike most of the upperclassmen, Liz and Des had actually dressed up for spirit week. They figured, what the hell, right? It was their senior year and they wanted to have some fun before they graduated. Today, Liz was wearing a Twiggy-inspired green shift dress with an exaggerated collar, black fishnet tights, and a pair of Mary Janes. Des was wearing her Halloween costume from last year. She went as Holly Golightly from the 1961 romantic comedy Breakfast at Tiffany's, and she got really annoyed when the other students didn't understand the reference. "God, this town's a cultural wasteland. It's like living in the Bermuda Triangle or something. Nobody knows how to dress and everyone sucks."

Liz was currently gushing over Evelyn's outfit. She took the girl's hands and pulled her up from the couch to get a better look at her.

"Oh my god, you look absolutely perfect!" she said, squeezing Evelyn's face between her palms. Close as they were, it was obvious that Evelyn had been crying, but Liz was gracious enough to keep this knowledge to herself. She wiped away the last streak of wetness with her thumb and smiled. "You're the most precious thing I've ever seen in my life."

Evelyn smiled back timidly. "You don't think I look slutty?"

Liz gasped, outraged. "Oh, what bitch said that? Was it Jackie? 'Cause that sounds exactly like something Jackie would say."

Desiree spoke up from the couch. She was sitting on the arm and pretending to smoke from her long black cigarette holder. "Oh my god, Liz, did you see what she was wearing today? She thinks she's Jackie O."

Liz rolled her eyes. "More like Jackie O, could you be more fucking obnoxious? Wait, was that mean?"

"A little, but who cares? It was funny."

The girls tittered like wicked stepsisters and, for a moment, appeared every bit as mean as Greta Bowie and Liz's little sister, Sally. Evelyn stood between them, feeling uncomfortable, feeling like maybe it was time to leave. Liz noticed this and her face flushed with shame.

"Oh shit," she said. "Dammit, Des, we can't keep falling back into old habits like this! I don't wanna go to college with any negativity. I may not like Jackie personally, but that's no reason to cut her down for her unfortunate fashion choices... even though she's a fucking bitch and deserves it." Liz took a deep breath and carried on with a smile. "Anyway, come sit for a minute, Evelyn. Let's talk."

Evelyn's eyes drifted toward the hallway. "Oh, but I really should get going."

Mrs. Lafferty was already expecting her, and...

"Just for a minute," Liz said, and led her back to the couch. Evelyn followed the older girl obediently. They sat side by side, knee to knee. Liz laid her hands neatly on her lap and smiled prettily at her. "So, how's the situation?"

"The situation?"

"She means Hockstetter," Des explained bluntly, while Peter Gordon went to his locker and pretended not to listen. Evelyn suspected he was listening, though, because he kept peeking over his shoulder every now and then. This made Evelyn feel a little uneasy. She didn't want to talk about this around so many people. In fact, she didn't want to talk about it at all. Not with Liz. Not with anybody. She didn't think they would understand.

"We saw that stunt he pulled at lunch today," Des was saying now. "That was bold, even for him."

"Yeah," Liz agreed, "and we just wanted to make sure you're okay."

"Oh, I'm fine," Evelyn said, more abruptly than she'd intended. "Yeah, I've got the situation totally under control."

Liz's made-up doe eyes widened in surprise. "Oh..." she began in a chaste whisper, a faint blush warming her face. As her voice trailed off, her gaze fell slowly, softly, and landed gently as a feather upon Evelyn's neck. "Oh..." Liz said again. Her hand went to her mouth and her blush deepened.

By now, the hickey had faded enough that Evelyn could cover it pretty easily with makeup... or so she thought. Concealed or not, a well-trained eye could probably spot it with little effort. Desiree, who had already established herself as an expert on the subject, lowered her oversized sunglasses and peered down at her.

"Wow," she said with an impressed smirk. "Yeah, I'd say she definitely has it under control, Liz. Good girl. You ride that crazy train."

Liz swatted her friend away like a buzzing fly. Evelyn quickly covered up the mark with her hair.

"It's not what it looks like," she said. "Patrick just—"

"Hey, you don't have to explain yourself," Liz said with false sincerity. Evelyn would have thought it was genuine, but the shrewdness in her eyes gave it away. "We're not judging you or anything."

"Really?" Evelyn said. "Because it kinda seems like you are."

Her tone was sharp, and rightfully so.

"I don't know what you all expect me to do. Everyone keeps judging me for what I do or don't do with Patrick, but what nobody seems to understand is that I don't have a choice! Look, I didn't ask for this, okay? I don't know why Patrick's bothering me all of a sudden, but he is, and now there's nothing I can do about it. I mean, it's inevitable, right? That's what Marci seems to think, anyway, and honestly I'm starting to think she's right. So what am I supposed to do now, Liz? Huh? You were nice enough to warn me about him, but... now what?"

Liz Mueller recoiled as if slapped. All the color drained from her face.

"I don't know," she confessed quietly, suddenly afraid for her. "I'm sorry, I have no idea what you're supposed to do."

Silence prevailed for the next thirty seconds. Liz turned forward, dropped her chin into her chest, and stared guiltily at her manicured hands. Next to her, Desiree had removed her sunglasses and was gnawing anxiously on the plastic tip. Peter Gordon glanced over her shoulder and saw her doing this. He made a sickened face and whipped back around. Right now, he wanted to crawl inside his locker and close the door. He couldn't stand tense silences like this. They reminded him a little too much of home.

"Just... be careful, okay?" Liz finally said. "If things start to get weird, or you start to feel unsafe for whatever reason, make sure you tell someone. Tell your mom, your best friend, me, Marci, just... someone, okay? Most of the other girls wish they had. Shit, I know I did." She reached over and gave Evelyn's knee a comforting pat. "You're not alone in this, Evelyn. I know it might seem like you are, but you're not. We all know what you're going through."

Evelyn smiled gently, gratefully, but part of her wondered if any of them truly understood.

Time crawled forward. Evelyn looked up at the clock and saw that it was almost a quarter to four now. Mrs. Lafferty was probably getting angry with her. She was probably tapping her foot, glaring at the clock, and thinking, Well, is that little brat showing up or what? Evelyn felt guilty about that. She knew it wasn't polite to keep people waiting, and yet...

"Hey, do you guys know Manda Bosch?"

"Manda?" Liz and Des exchanged a furtive glance. "Sure. What about her?"

"There's just a rumor going around about her and a boy in my grade."

"Oh, right," Liz said, and for some reason, Des started to laugh. "I keep forgetting you sophomores are new to this. Look, you just have to learn to ignore her, okay? Manda does this kinda shit all the time, and I mean all the time. She parties way too hard, gets way too drunk, and then cheats on her boyfriend with some loser who won't refuse her. Then she sobers up the next morning, feels guilty, and cries rape to cover her own ass. It's really sad and pathetic, honestly, but I guess it works 'cause her boyfriend still hasn't dumped her even though he's way out of her league. I don't understand the appeal, personally. I mean, she must give really good head or something."

Evelyn squirmed at that remark. Behind her, Peter Gordon was coughing as if he'd swallowed something wrong.

"So you're saying she just made it up?" Evelyn asked, hopeful.

"Oh yeah, for sure. I mean, don't get me wrong, I'm all for supporting victims and everything, but Manda Bosch is not a victim. She's just a sloppy, sloppy drunk who will spread her legs for anyone. That sounded really mean, I know, but it's just a fact. She even came onto Pete once, practically right in front of me."

"And I ignored that siren's song," Peter interjected passionately. "I said to her, 'No, you foul temptress, you stay away! I have a beautiful girlfriend and I love her with all my heart.'"

Liz gave him a dubious look. "Yeah, like you're going anywhere." Then, to Evelyn: "See, Pete's not the cheating type. He knows he hit the jackpot with me and he's not about to squander his winnings on some dumb, drunk slut. Find yourself a guy like that, Evelyn, and all these rumors just become background noise."

"Okay," Evelyn said uneasily. This conversation had taken a few unexpected turns and she was struggling to keep up. "So it's definitely not true?"

"No..." Liz said, but her voice sounded strangely high-pitched all of a sudden. "Well, I mean, it's probably not true... Why? Who's the rumor about?"

"Umm, Henry Bowers," Evelyn answered anxiously, and flicked her eyes away. "I don't know if you know who that is."

"Yeah, all you sophomores kinda blur together... Oh, wait, he's the really angry one, right? The kid who always looks like he's gonna stab somebody?"

Evelyn gave a reluctant nod. It wasn't the kindest description, but it was probably the most accurate.

"Huh," Liz said. "Well, that changes things a bit."

Evelyn's stomach dropped. "You think it could be true?"

"Well, no, not necessarily. Hold on a sec." Liz craned her head around and called out to her boyfriend: "Hey, Pete, you used to hang out with that Bowers kid, didn't you?"

"Yeah, for a like a summer," Peter Gordon answered shortly. He wore the tight, apprehensive expression of a man who'd just been asked to take the stand and testify as an eyewitness in a murder trial. "That was a long time ago, Liz..."

Peter was fifteen then and feeling rebellious. His parents had recently split up, and he was going through a tough time. He thought it'd be kind of cathartic to shoot stuff, smash a couple windows, and shoplift dirty magazines. Petty crimes. Maybe a misdemeanor or two. He wasn't expecting it to get as intense as it did, and there were times when Henry Bowers honestly frightened him. He'd never seen so much hate in one person.

"Okay," Liz said, "but did he seem like a rapist to you?"

Evelyn winced at that word. How could everyone throw it around so casually?

"Racist? Yeah. Rapist? No, I wouldn't quite go that far... but again, that was a long time ago. Who knows what that kid's capable of now."

"Not that," Evelyn said. "No, Henry didn't rape anybody."

Liz shrugged. "Okay, well... there's your answer. They probably just had sex."

"Sex. Right."

Evelyn gulped down both words, closed her mouth, and nodded stiffly, feeling her blood thumping in her temples. Liz and Des studied her quietly, looked at each other, and quickly put together the rest of the puzzle. When they saw the completed picture, Des cringed and Liz's pretty pink lips parted with an inaudible gasp.

"Oh..." Liz whispered, looking down at Evelyn with a sympathetic frown. "Oh, sweetie, no..."

Then Des said, "I remember when I was going through my bad boy phase. God, was that a mistake."

Evelyn's face flamed with dull anger. "No, that's not—" but a gruff voice cut her off.

"What the hell are you doing here?"

Martin Davers had emerged from the hallway with a notebook wedged under his arm and a pencil tucked behind his ear. He opened his locker, tossed everything inside, and slammed the door closed. His biceps bulged under the tight fabric of his shirt. His eyes, a dark, stormy blue, narrowed into a fierce, territorial glare as he squared up to Evelyn like a menacing troll. Martin was six feet tall and heavily muscled. He used to be on the football team, but he got cut during his second year because he couldn't meet the minimum grade requirement. Now Martin was constantly looking for new ways to release all his pent-up aggression. Evelyn Tozier was his favorite target.

Liz rolled her eyes at Martin, unbothered. "Speaking of bad boys... What do you want, Martin?"

"I'm just wondering what a sophomore's doing in the senior locker area."

Evelyn flinched suddenly, forgetting where she was, and as she looked around now, all the furniture had grown shockingly large. She felt like she was sitting inside some silly funhouse where everything was comically oversized. All the lockers towered over her like skyscrapers. The couch seemed big enough to swallow her whole; Evelyn's feet could barely reach the edge. She sat upon the tattered cushion like a doll waiting for some little girl to come along and carry her off to tea time. Oh, yes, tea time. Tea time with March Hare and the Hatter. Evelyn was a child trapped in Wonderland, lost and scared, staring at the Cheshire Cat's mischievous grin.

"Look, she's with us, okay?" Liz Mueller made a dismissive motion with her hand, then turned back to Evelyn, who had shifted her weight forward in an early attempt to stand. The girl's face had gone terribly pale. "Oh, Evelyn, don't let him scare you off. Martin's just an asshole."

"No, it's okay," she said colorlessly. "I have to get going, anyway."

(I'm late for tea...)

Mrs. Lafferty was expecting her, and it would have been rude to keep her waiting any longer... yes, rude, that sounded right. It was Evelyn's good manners that compelled her to leave so quickly. It was good manners that made her press her thighs together and cross her arms over her chest. Good manners that had her staggering to her feet, mumbling goodbye to the floor, and walking away as fast as she could.

It had nothing to do with Martin's stare—that hot, searing stare that seemed to follow her down the hallway.

Evelyn started apologizing before she even entered the classroom.

"Sorry, I'm late, Mrs. Laff—" she began, but the rest of the words had tumbled inward and back down her throat. She stopped in the middle of the doorway, one foot in, one foot out, with her right arm bent at the elbow, beginning an apologetic wave. Evelyn never finished it, though. Much like her words, her hand had retreated into itself, curled into a loose fist, and fallen limp at her side. Her eyes widened with shock and disbelief. Her heart jogged in her chest. She drew in a breath and held it for a moment, forcing herself to calm down.

Before she arrived, the classroom had been quiet and empty apart from the two occupied desks. Mrs. Lafferty sat at hers with a cup of honeyed tea and was idly stirring it while she reviewed tomorrow's lesson plans. She looked up briefly when she heard Evelyn's voice. It was a very distinct voice, loud and clumsy as one might expect from a Tozier, but at least hers wasn't accompanied by crude humor and poorly performed (not to mention grossly offensive) accents. Yes, in that regard, her little brother was truly unique.

Mrs. Lafferty smiled at Evelyn. "Don't worry about it. You're in fine company. This one kept me waiting, too," she said, tipping her head toward the student sitting in the back. "He's lucky I didn't leave and just give him a zero, but I don't think I'll be getting a thank you for that, will I?"

Mrs. Lafferty was answered with silence. For once, Henry Bowers had nothing to say... not to her, anyway.

He had been hunching over his math quiz and glaring at question number four when he heard Evelyn's voice drift through the open door, her words amplified by the hollow silence that had fallen over the school. As soon as the sound hit Henry's ears, his back straightened and his heart started racing. It was an instinctual reaction, kind of like when Henry flinched whenever his dad reached for his belt. That one motion stirred up a decade's worth of painful memories and emotions and drove them straight to the surface like worms wiggling up from the dirt during a rainstorm. His dad didn't even need to beat him anymore (but he did anyway). He simply had to gesture toward his belt and Henry cowered back in submission. Yes, sir. No, sir. Straighten up and get back in line.

Of course, it was only kind of like that. There was no pain associated with the sound of Evelyn Tozier's voice (unless you counted the slight hangover-like headache that sometimes occurred halfway through a conversation with her). No with her voice, Henry felt only the most wonderful, comforting calm, bright with her laughter, warm with her smile, soft as the woven cotton blanket that he often found draped over him when he woke up in the middle of the night. Henry would sit up, look across the room, and see Evelyn passed out at her desk with her head nestled inside the crook of her arm. Usually, he would leave after that, but sometimes he would sit and observe her for a while, listening to her gentle snoring, watching her skin sparkle beneath the soft glow of her desk lamp, feeling his heart slowly thudding in his chest, getting stronger and stronger. Henry could have stayed like that forever.

Happy.

Peaceful.

Safe.

Evelyn Tozier was a sweet escape, and Henry craved her like a junkie needing a fix. It was a desperate, visceral desire that gripped him more firmly with each passing day. Growing. Intensifying. Evolving into a savage, carnal beast that was impossible to control.

When Henry heard her voice that afternoon, every nerve in his body came alive at once. He had to grip the edge of his desk because he didn't trust himself to stay in his chair. How could he when Evelyn was standing on the other side of that door? When that safe, peaceful, happy feeling was finally within reach? All Henry had to do was get up, run out that door and—

Evelyn appeared in the doorway, wearing that sunshine yellow dress with the flouncy little skirt that went whoosh-whoosh every time she moved her hips. The skirt that tempted him. Teased him. Taunted him. The skirt that Patrick Hockstetter's hand had crawled underneath like some filthy, disgusting insect... and she didn't push his hand away.

??WHY DIDN'T SHE PUSH HIS HAND AWAY??

(Because she's a whore, just like your mother)

No. No, she's not, Dad. She's nothing like—

(YOU ARGUING WITH ME NOW, BOY?)

Belt.

Flinch.

No, sir. 

Whore, sir. 

!!STRAIGHTEN UP AND GET BACK IN LINE!!

When Henry saw Evelyn in that yellow dress, his mind became a battlefield. All his thoughts were clashing against each other in bloody combat, and he didn't know which side was going to kill the others and claim him. He was being pulled in too many directions. Assaulted by too many urges. All the while, Evelyn stood there staring at him with that hopeful, frightened look, like she desperately wished he would speak to her, but she was also terrified of what he might say.

And that's when Henry realized he was frightened of himself, too.

If he ran to her now like he wanted to, he wasn't sure what would happen. In one thought, he was wrapping his arms around her and hugging her. In another, he was pushing her against the wall and smashing his mouth against her warm, soft lips. In another, he was squeezing his fingers around her neck and throttling her until all the light left her eyes.

Slapping her.

Beating her.

Bashing her head against the wall again and again and again.

(Because that's what you do with whores)

The thought rose up from nowhere. It had caught him off guard. Snuck up behind him and tried to seize control. Henry fought it back and it left easily enough, but he knew it wasn't gone for good. Eventually, it would come back even stronger. Maybe next time it would win. Maybe. Maybe—

"Head down, Mr. Bowers," Mrs. Lafferty said as she stood up from her desk. "You're here to take a quiz, not gawk at pretty girls."

"Fuck you, bitch," Henry muttered under his breath, relieved to hear his own voice again. Just his own voice again.

Mrs. Lafferty walked over to Evelyn, who had turned away and was now approaching a small table at the front of the classroom. Honestly, Henry was glad for the distance. The further away the better. For her sake. He put his head down and tried to focus on his quiz.

"You don't have to finish this all today, of course," Mrs. Lafferty was saying to Evelyn, "just the two morning classes should be enough. Whatever you have left, you can just leave in the pile there. I'll take the rest home with me tonight."

Evelyn nodded, pulled out the chair, and sat down. As soon as she did, she felt two eyes drilling through the back of her skull. Her heart bucked wildly. She looked over her shoulder and caught Henry's gaze for half a second, but then Mrs. Lafferty called her attention back and placed two red pens on the table. Upon withdrawing her hand, she said, "Oh, and Evelyn? No doodling on the quizzes, please."

Evelyn smiled back sheepishly. "Right, sorry... sometimes I get a little carried away."

After all, grading quizzes got awfully boring after a while. In that state, it was easy for her to accidentally turn a simple smiley face into a cat or a dog... or a cute, friendly little monkey swinging off the edge of the score. Evelyn was no artist, but she hoped her doodles gave the students a good chuckle when they got their quizzes back. Especially those who failed. For those unlucky few, Evelyn hoped her drawings helped soften the blow, if only just a little.

Mrs. Lafferty returned to her desk and reached for her tea. After taking a few slow sips, she lowered her cup and said with a forced smile, "By the way, Evelyn, I had a lovely little chat with your mother this morning."

"Oh?" Evelyn said, and that was where the conversation ended.

Judging by Mrs. Lafferty's expression, there had been nothing lovely about that chat, nothing at all.

Evelyn put her head down and quietly began her work: comparing each answer against the key, marking the wrong ones with her pen, counting up the marks, tallying up the final score, and printing it at the top of the page. Each score was accompanied by an encouraging message like GREAT JOB! WAY TO GO!! AWESOME EFFORT!!! Then she would place the paper in the completed pile and move on to the next one.

Behind her, Henry Bowers kept his head bent over his quiz the whole time, his expression frustrated and tense. Evelyn didn't look back at him either, not once, not even when the urge was so strong she thought she might go crazy. She couldn't bear to look at him now, conflicted as she was. It brought up too many questions... questions Evelyn wasn't sure she wanted the answers to.

Did you let her kiss you? she wondered as she stared down at the red pen. Because I never... 

"Head down, Mr. Bowers. I won't say it again."

Evelyn sucked in a quiet breath, held it, and slowly peeked over her left shoulder. Henry's head was down again, his hand furiously scribbling on the paper. Evelyn continued to hold her breath, continued to stare, until his eyes finally lifted off the page. Henry's writing hand slowed, then stopped. Evelyn's breath left her in a long, drawn-out sigh. Then Mrs. Lafferty got up from her desk, Henry dropped his head, and Evelyn turned back around.

"Evelyn, I need to go to the teacher's lounge for a few minutes," she said, but what she really meant was, I'm stepping outside for a smoke. "Henry, you have five minutes left. Leave your quiz on my desk when you're done."

Mrs. Lafferty's heels clicked delicately as she walked, the sound drifting further and further... further away. Then there was only silence.

Evelyn sat back and stared gloomily at the clock. It was four twenty-two now, but the time never registered in her head. She was too busy thinking, hoping, wishing those hands would unwind and go backward just this once. Take them back to that blissful Before: before Evelyn wore this stupid dress, before Henry had sex with Manda Bosch, before Patrick Hockstetter picked up Evelyn's clipboard, followed her into the hallway, and asked, Where have I seen you?, before the trunk, before the stolen shirts, before the long, lonely, miserable summer... before Evelyn crossed the line and messed everything up.

Can we just go back, please? she begged. Because every day after that has been a total nightmare. 

(and she had a terrible feeling it was only going to get worse)

Evelyn gave the clock one last pleading look, and the clock stared back in silent refusal. Its hands ticked, tocked, and crept forward.

(Tick)

(Tock)

(Tick)

(Tock)

Henry finished his quiz, dropped it off on the teacher's desk, and—

Evelyn stood up and said, "Can you please talk to me? Because I really don't understand what I did wrong."

Her plea was weak, desperate. Henry didn't even hear it. He went around her and started walking toward the door.

What the fuck?

"Henry!" she cried softly... in her Before voice.

Henry stopped as soon as he heard it, his whole body stiffening in recognition, and for a moment time seemed to stop.

(Tick—)

Finally, he spoke. "You know, I thought..." His voice emerged from deep in his throat, strangled with grief and despair. "I thought we were..."

"What?" Evelyn said. "What?"

JUST SAY IT!

Henry's jaw clenched tightly, and his lips drew back in a pained smile. "Fuck you, Evelyn," he said and went out.

(Tock)

Evelyn's mouth fell open in a stifled cry of disbelief. Hope left her eyes as defeat washed over her. Her legs went weak, gave out, and she collapsed back into her chair, numb, speechless. Above her, the clock watched with cold indifference. Its hands crawled forward... forward... forward.

(Tick)

(Tock)

(Tick)

(Tock)

Sometime later, while Evelyn was lackadaisically doodling on a student's quiz, she heard the slow, dragging thumps of Mrs. Lafferty's feet coming down the hallway.

"I've already finished the first two stacks," Evelyn reported half-heartedly, "and I'm halfway through the third."

She moved the quiz to the completed pile, turned around, and froze.

Martin Davers was leaning beside the door with his arms folded over his chest.

"That's a really nice dress," he said.

Evelyn rose from her chair slowly, her heart pumping loudly in her chest. "What do you want, Martin?"

"Nothing," he answered, his eyes calm and attentive. "I guess I just wanted to know why you're trying so hard to dress sexy all of a sudden." Martin seemed to ponder this soberly for a moment, his brow furrowed in mock perplexity. "'Cause from where I'm standing, it kinda looks like you're trying to advertise something. Is that right, Tozier? Are you open for business now?"

"Open for business?" Evelyn repeated. The phrase stunned her so completely that she almost laughed. "It's spirit week, Martin. I have to dress up."

"Oh, I see," Martin said, fascinated. "You had to dress in a skimpy skirt today. That was today's theme."

Evelyn's mouth opened and closed wordlessly.

"Wait, that wasn't today's theme?" Martin cocked his head to the side and frowned. "Well, then why are you wearing that dress, Evelyn?"

She stared at him, unable to speak. Why had she chosen this dress? Why this dress over all the others? Mrs. Criss had dozens of modest dresses that would have satisfied today's theme just as well. She had boxes and boxes of them. Evelyn tried them on. They had fit her perfectly, way better than this dress did. Why had she cast them aside?

"I was just following the theme," she said, her eyes vacant, glassy.

"You were just following the theme." He nodded. "Okay, Evelyn, answer me this: what was today's theme?"

Her stomach twisted. "Huh?"

"Go on, tell me. What was today's theme?"

His voice was shrill and full of scorn. Evelyn shut her mouth tightly, her bottom lip quivering, and shook her head as tears flooded her eyes.

"Please stop," she whispered.

"Well?"

"Stop."

"Tell me."

She swallowed hard and answered: "It was Groovy Monday."

"Right," he said, "it was Groovy Monday, not Skimpy Monday, not Slutty Monday. It was Groovy Monday. Thank you for clearing that up for me, Evelyn, because I was so confused for a second." He smiled at her, grateful. "Now, let's go back to my initial question: why are you trying so hard to dress sexy? Because that's an awfully short dress, Evelyn."

"It follows the dress code," she said, but then from the dark, shadowy part of her mind, she heard

(barely)

another voice that made her eyes widen with a horrific realization. This really was a terribly short dress. Yes. Yes, she saw that now. Not short enough to make her parents worry. Not short enough to violate the school's dress code.

(No more than four inches above the knee... Did you measure it, Evelyn?)

But just short enough to—

Martin wiggled his eyebrows suggestively. "Are you trying to get someone's attention, Evelyn? Show him what he's missing?"

"No," she answered in a shaky voice, but the other, faraway voice spoke the truth.

(Yes)

She had wanted to get someone's attention today, and she got it, oh yes, she got it. When Henry Bowers stormed up to her that morning, when he grabbed her arm and pulled her hard against him, when he glared down at her, stared at her lips with that feral, ferocious hunger, Evelyn felt her heart flutter with such excitement. For a minute, she thought he was actually going to kiss her. She wanted him to.

(If I had been wearing this dress that day, then maybe...)

Evelyn slapped her hand over her mouth, but still the voice persisted:

(Yes)

(Yes)

(Yes)

(and you got what you wanted, didn't you?)

(Yes)

(Yes)

(Yes)

Guilt crept into her heart and devoured her slowly, leaving her hollow and cold. "Look," she said huskily, blinking the wetness from her eyes, "Mrs. Lafferty's gonna be coming back in a minute, so..."

Martin clucked his tongue in dissent. "I think it might take her a little longer than that."

For a moment, Evelyn's gaze was blurry with tears. Then it cleared as strange, dizzying terror stole through her. It was almost like a bad dream. In a slow daze, she saw Martin walking toward the door. Saw him tuck his boot underneath the doorstop and kick it up with one flick of his ankle. The door moaned and swung slowly, so slowly, and closed with a whisper of a click. Evelyn's breath stopped. Her body froze with fear.

"What are you doing?" she asked in a small, trembling voice.

Martin answered her question with one of his own: "What were you doing in the senior locker area, Evelyn?"

"What?" The word came out dry and brittle, and it crumbled as it left her lips. "Nothing, I was just..."

Martin stepped toward her, his blue eyes glinting ominously in the light.

"You were just...?"

Adrenaline shot through her, sending Evelyn's heart into a mad gallop. She glanced at the door and made herself move. Martin closed the distance. She side-stepped, tried to duck around him, and he caught her brutally by the wrist. A scream fetched in her throat. Their eyes locked fiercely, and for one frightening moment, Evelyn saw the same savage hunger that had consumed Henry Bowers. Her heart stopped. Her mind exploded and went flying, crashing, tumbling down into deep blackness like a stone down a well, falling down to a cold, dark place, where a voice—that voice—was giggling.

(You got what you wanted, didn't you?)

Now her fear had collapsed into pure panic. She struggled against him, her breath coming in short, sharp gasps, and tried to wrestle her arm free. Martin overpowered her easily, flung her around, and slammed her down hard against the desk. Evelyn's body hit the wood with a dull thud. Her head jerked forward, snapped back, and spun dizzily. Clockwise. Her vision blurred and became ringed with darkness. She was falling, plunging down to that cold, dark, guilty place.

"What's wrong, Tozier?" Martin asked breathlessly. "Isn't this what you wanted?"

"Please stop!" she said, but her voice had slipped away from her and went up, up, up.

"You wanted attention, right? Wanted people to finally see you as a woman?"

"No! No!"

(YES!)

"Well, I see you, Tozier," Martin said. "Yeah, I see you crystal fucking clear."

Evelyn fell deeper and deeper, screaming without a sound, and slammed against something hard and cold. The bottom. She had finally hit the bottom. Her right cheek was pressed against the desk, and Martin's hand was on her head, holding her firmly in place. He didn't have to hold her down, though. Evelyn couldn't have moved even if she wanted to. She was too far gone, trapped in that cold, dark place, and now the guilt was creeping toward her on all fours, its eyes bright and hungry, desperate to feed. Evelyn lay on her stomach, paralyzed, watching it come closer and closer... closer and closer... until—

The knob turned and the door opened.

Henry Bowers stood on the other side, blinking in dazed bewilderment.

Martin threw him a vicious grin. "You want in on this, Bowers?" he asked while he pushed some of Evelyn's hair away from her face. "You can go first if you want."

Evelyn flinched away from Martin's hand and felt Henry's eyes land on her softly, gently, filling her heart with such sweet relief. For a moment, she thought she was weightless, flying, floating far away from that cold, dark guilty place, but then she saw something that turned her heart into stone, and she plummeted right back to the bottom.

Henry's eyes, those bright, beautiful blue eyes, had suddenly darkened into the most terrifying shade of black. Evelyn didn't even recognize them anymore.

Time crawled forward and stopped. The clock on the wall stopped ticking. Its hands screeched to a halt and stood at attention, waiting for their next command.

It came a second later, in a shocking act of betrayal.

"No," Henry said, "she's not worth it."

The door closed and time resumed with a violent lurch, knocking Evelyn backward, backward, backward. The clock on the wall started tocking and ticking, tocking and ticking: backward, backward, backward. Its hands went spinning, whirling, unwinding: backward, backward, backward. Counterclockwise. Taking them back. Taking them all the way back.

And now that voice was speaking to her again, speaking from that cold, dark place.

(You got what you wanted, didn't you?)

Yes, she answered. Yes, I did.

_____________________

PREV // CURRENT // NEXT

taglist: @secrethologramflower @rosepresley

[runthepockets]

I've been thinking a lot today about how self hatred seems pretty integral to straight culture, at least from all the passing remarks my gay friends and peers have made throughout our time together. Like that analysis of Carmen and Richie from The Bear is really sticking with me, the way fans resonate and are more forgiving of the latter because he's that of your average red blooded working class old school straight dude, while Carmen is seen as prissy and pathetic and weird by some fans for not linearly healing from unlinear trauma, for standing up for women and taking no issue with having them in power, some headcanoning him gay or trans for all this. I was watching Bojack Horseman with one of my old roommates last year and he made a comment like "it's so crazy that they made Diane go this hard for feminism and they still made her straight", almost as if to imply straight women don't need feminism and if their feminism goes any deeper than centricism or liberalism then they've probably got more going on, so the reverse of this exists for straight women too.

It's fascinating. People will assume you're gay if you're a nice / sensitive dude, as evidenced both by real life interactions that've been recounted to me by my straight guy friends and by the countless amount of headcanons that any boy or man in fiction with trauma who tries to do the right thing is a trans guy or a gay dude. I mindlessly reblog pictures of shirtless guys + male positivity posts cus "hey that's cool, I could look like that. I hope people think I'm as cool as this guy looks." Men are pretty cool" " or "yeah, men do have the potential to be good. I'm a man, I like to think this is the case" and very little more, and next thing I know I've got like 3 dudes trying to slide in my DMs. I have my personal grievances with these lines of thinking; I think they're really limiting and kind of regressive, especially from the perspective of anyone who's serious about any kind of gender or sexuality liberation. I don't think it's a crime to have headcanons or to want to find other gay people or to want to be seen in your media of choice, or any of that stuff, but I do think it's kinda rude to talk about straight people who don't fit into neat little boxes of "rampant abuser" and "vapid floozy who'll agree to anything as long as it gets her a husband" as if they're, like, weirdos or a waste or something. Part of sex and gender and feminist liberation means that everyone gets to do whatever they want. You're gonna meet a lot of straight women like Diane Nguyen, you're gonna meet a lot of straight men like Carmen Berzatto.

More importantly though, it just makes me kinda sad. Like the only way to love yourself and your gender and the people around you is so lacking in straight culture that people will sooner assume you're gay when you do good things for the women in your life or when a woman has a life outside of her husband. Like why did we do this to ourselves. It sucks bad.

[alfredsolos]

Hello, how are you? Can I ask for headcanons? What if damian wayne /or al ghul/ cheated on the reader with someone else and the reader found out and broke up with damian, how would damian react? Would he regret it? Would he be sad? Would he try to get the reader back? I mean, can you make headcanons by adding other things that you can think of like that? Have a nice day

Hi! First of all I'm doing amazing and thank you for the ask.

So, I don't really like x reader headcanons and I don't really make posts consisting of that. But since you took your time to ask, I'm gonna change it a little and give you my headcanons for "What would happen if Damian cheated on his partner?". You can still think of this as a x reader post though.

I believe that, to talk about this kind of topic, we need to get into details. Before going into the whole cheating thing, let's talk about:

What kind of person Damian's partner be?

I made a similar point in another post, but I don't believe in opposites attract. At least not with Damian. So for Damian to be involved in a romantic relationship with someone, that person needs to be similar to him.

By similar, I mean his past and life experiences. Damian had a very brutal and unloving child hood. He was never seen as a child so he subconciously became more mature and indifferent to deal with the trauma and abuse. What I believe is that, his partner would have a similar background. Maybe an assassin like him or a runaway or just someone with a very bad childhood. I don't think that person would be childish or immature at all. I think his partner would be someone either as indifferent as him or a little crazy.

As you may have noticed, I didn't specify a gender for Damian's partner. I don't think it would matter to him to be honest. I know that the fandom portray him to be very traditional and sometimes homophobic. But I don't believe that's a correct assumption to make. For one, Talia herself has slept with women in canon. So I don't think he would be homophobic either.

Going on about the partner's character: I think they would be someone who'd be indifferent to Damian's troubled past and the crimes he (was forced to) commit. I think they'd be understanding and soft from time to time.

I personally think that It'd be very cute and hilarious if Damian's partner was someone who is very flirty. Or at least very blatant just like him.

Another favorite headcanon of mine is that, him and his partner would be the kind of couple who wrestle and playfully fight, throw shit at each other, make fun of each other. They'd look as if they hate each other, but deep down they're just in love.

My previous point + but his partner knows how to fight too. So they're just casually having a death tournament during a date.

Before the cheating, what happens?

I'd like to point out that I don't believe Damian would cheat on someone unless it's a misunderstanding or after a fight in which he thinks that they're broken up because he never had a relationship before and doesn't know how it works.

For that, I'm gonna split this part into two. One, it's a misunderstanding. Two Damian thinks they've broken up.

Damian thinks they're over:

As I've pointed out before, Damian's partner would be someone with a past like his and indifferent to most crimes. You can think of them as a villain, anti hero, or just a talented fighter who just doesn't give a fuck.

And since they're indifferent and potentially doesn't mind committing crimes, the Batfam would not like them. Especially Bruce. So due to that, a fight could break out between Damian and his lover and they'd respectively storm out.

You may be asking, why won't they just have a deep conversation with each other? Well like I said, bad life bad coping mechanisms.

And to Damian, who is very blunt in his actions himself, this would mean that they'd broken up.

I don't wanna keep this long so time passes and Damian, although still in love and confused about his partner, would obliviously try to move on with life. I don't think he'd seek out a relationship himself. But other people would. So maybe that could be how he gets "caught cheating". By his partner.

It's actually a big (and dark) misunderstanding:

In this headcanon someone makes a move on Damian without his constent. And that's how he's "caught".

There a lot of very dark scenarios for this. You could say he was drugged, forcefully held down or just frozen in shock. So when the partner finds them, the assaulter would quickly get the fuck out of there leaving Damian in shock. And seeing him stammer and in shock, the partner could assume the worst of the situation.

After:

Whether if it's the first or the second option, one thing the partner would do in both of these situations is to hurt or try to kill the person Damian "cheated" with.

Going from the first option, Damian would be incredibly confused and annoyed. Like he had thought that they'd broke up, but that person just shows up and randomly tries to assassinate people he interacted with. He'd try to stop the attacks and after a couple of misunderstanding they'd work the truth out of each other and hopefully move on with their life never talking about the "incident".

If you preferred the second and darker option: Damian would go off the radar while his partner kills the assaulter not knowing it was actually a rape situation. The partner would then try to forget about Damian but eventually seek him out because they'd be still hurting from the "betrayal". You can even go down into the self harm and body issues path for Damian.

They find Damian and after a very long and uncomfortable conversation truth comes out and everything is just fucked again. As they're both people who don't know how to deal with emotions properly, they'd seperate for a while.

You can end this with an unhappy ending like this. Or they can get back together after a long while and try to understand and bond with each other more thoroughly. Their relationship would be stronger than ever.

Anyways, this is the end of my headcanons. I know it's not really what you asked but hopefully you'll like these. And if you have any more headcanons you want to talk about, please ask!