#she absolutely shreds in pure fiction though

[spooky-activity]

Sorry Himeko, you really aren’t great at single target damage and Kafka is an actual assassin

[azucarmorena97]

Money Ties (Jungkook Love Story || Pt.2)

Pt.1 || Pt.3

Your parents have worked hard to get to the top and have made sure to teach you everything you need to know to be successful in this business: from tough but lucrative financial decisions, down to the right ball gown for any given banquet. A promising and extravagant future awaits you- that is, if you agree to one teensy detail...

Son of Mr.Jeon Sr. and heir to June Company, Jeon Jungkook is an immature playboy with nothing to offer a woman but good looks and a crap ton of money, and he stands to inherit much MUCH more, so long as you both enter into the arranged marriage contract that was drawn up before the pair of you were even born.

You're more than willing to try, but you're not sure you'll be able to stand each other long enough to inherit a single penny...

Series Warnings: There will be smut in the near future and I will label those chapters as such. As I say before most of my pieces- I do not endorse any themes, ideas, or behaviors in this series. This is all purely fiction/fantasy! Feel free to inbox me suggestions/ideas/what you'd like to see in this series and I'll see what I can do! Enjoy <3

Recap: It's as though everything is happening in slow motion; torturously absorbing every ounce of energy in your body for such a simple action as turning your head. When you finally look up at him, you see his expression turn from slight irritation, to full blown anger. "YOU." The venom in his tone is palpable. You smile sheepishly, looking from his parents, to him, to his parents, and then back to him, "H-hey, you." This is gonna be the longest dinner of your life.

"Jungkook," His father calls his name sternly, enough to get not only his attention, but the attention of every patron in the restaurant as well, "What the hell is the matter with you?" Jungkook looks at you and then back at his dad, "Well, Dad, the crazy bitch from the air port? The one that attacked me? She's at the very table with us right now." "I did not 'attack' you," You furrow your brows, unable to fake a smile any longer. "You absolutely did," He says, leaning forward so that his face is only inches from yours, "I have witnesses to prove it-" "That is enough," Mr.Jeon snaps, causing for Jungkook to abruptly stop talking. "Sit your ass down, right now." Jungkook quickly takes the empty place next to you and remains silent. Your heart is racing in your chest and you feel like a child who knows they're about to get their ass handed to them. "Y/n," Mrs.Jeon says gently, "Could you please explain to us what happened?" "But Mom-" "Jungkook. Unless you want to be walking yourself to the bus stop after this dinner and also for the rest of the year, I suggest you keep your mouth closed." Mr.Jeon's demeanor has completely changed from the jolly dad-type you'd met earlier. "Go ahead, Y/n." You clear your throat, "I'm sorry for causing such a commotion on such an important day. It truly wasn't my intention. You see, I had just landed in Seoul and, while I was looking around, one of... his friends," You're not quite sure how to even address Jungkook, "had carelessly shoved me- I almost fell forward completely. When I turned around to try to address the situation, your son had cut in and was very rude to me. Everyone in his group was egging him on the more rude he got. He slapped two hundred dollars into my hand and then I..." You don't even want to say the rest. You can practically hear the marriage contract getting shredded to pieces in your very presence. "You...?" Mr and Mrs.Jeon stare at you anxiously. "She slapped the shit out of me," Jungkook finishes.

For a few moments, there's only silence. You want for the Earth to open up beneath you and just swallow you whole. Your dad is gonna kill you. Y/n, the dead woman walking. And then...laughter. Both Mr. and Mrs.Jeon are dying of laughter. You glance at Jungkook who seems equally as confused as you. "How is this funny?" He asks, leaning forward and banging once on the table. "So you- you slapped him? In front of all of his friends?" Mrs.Jeon asks between laughs. "Please tell me you threw the money back at him!" Mr.Jeon adds. "The money was still in her hand..." Jungkook mutters, which only causes for them to continue. "Oh son, I think you've finally met your match!"Mr.Jeon says, desperately trying to catch his breath. You're still trying to figure out what the hell is even happening. "I- I'm not quite sure how to react to...any of this, but I would like to apologize to you," You turn to Jungkook and bite your bottom lip, "I shouldn't have been so quick to violence. I don't know what took over me." He rolls his eyes, shaking his head and staring off into another direction, intent on ignoring you. "Oh don't apologize," Mr.Jeon says, "We know our Jungkook very well, and we know you wouldn't have done this if you didn't feel the need to." "I suppose so...but I really am sorry. I- I think maybe I should go back to the hotel and let you guys have a moment to talk," You say, looking down at your empty plate and trying to ignore your stomach, which is currently threatening to eat you alive. "Oh- alright. Well, we can always meet tomorrow for evening tea. I'll send a car to come get you?" Mrs.Jeon asks, her sweet expression putting you at ease. You nod, "Absolutely." You stand up and grab your purse, "Oh, before I forget. I got you all gifts," You pick the gift bag up off the floor and one by one, take out the nicely wrapped boxes and hand them to each person; Jungkook takes the gift from you, his expression slowly fading into mild interest and even surprise at the very undeserved gift box. "Thank you," He says, bowing slightly. "Of course- I'm sorry again, everyone." "Don't worry about it, dear. Have a safe drive to the hotel. Please don't hesitate to reach out if you need anything at all," Mr.Jeon says before reaching under the table to grab something. He brings up a big manila envelope and hands it to you. You bow to everyone and then grab your things to go.

When you get back out onto the street outside of the restaurant, you let out a deep sigh of relief and thank God that's over- at least for tonight. Tomorrow will take care of itself. You take your phone out of your bag, hoping to see a missed call or two from your dad, though you're met with only a million texts from your very concerned (and nosy) mom. You close your eyes and take a deep breath and not even a minute later, the car pulls up to take you back to your hotel. At least you'll get to retreat to the comfort of a five star hotel- a luxury you very rarely treat yourself to. You do have a lot of money to spend, but your parents have always been very frugal and have taught you the value of the hard-earned dollar. If it weren't because the Jeons insisted on you staying in one of their hotels, you'd be headed to whatever cheap hotel had the best rate.

As you get in the car, your phone buzzes in your hand. You look down to see it's a message from Mr.Jeon.

𝙼𝚛.𝙹𝚎𝚘𝚗: 𝙸 𝚑𝚘𝚙𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚍𝚒𝚍𝚗'𝚝 𝚍𝚎𝚝𝚎𝚛 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚏𝚛𝚘𝚖 𝚊𝚌𝚌𝚎𝚙𝚝𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚝𝚘 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚊𝚐𝚛𝚎𝚎𝚖𝚎𝚗𝚝. 𝙿𝚕𝚎𝚊𝚜𝚎 𝚌𝚘𝚗𝚜𝚒𝚍𝚎𝚛 𝚕𝚘𝚘𝚔𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚘𝚟𝚎𝚛 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚌𝚘𝚗𝚝𝚛𝚊𝚌𝚝 𝚊𝚜 𝚠𝚎 𝚠𝚘𝚞𝚕𝚍 𝚕𝚘𝚟𝚎 𝚝𝚘 𝚑𝚊𝚟𝚎 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚋𝚎 𝚙𝚊𝚛𝚝 𝚘𝚏 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝙹𝚎𝚘𝚗 𝚎𝚖𝚙𝚒𝚛𝚎. 𝚃𝚊𝚔𝚎 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚝𝚒𝚖𝚎 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚛𝚎𝚜𝚝 𝚠𝚎𝚕𝚕.

You really need to get ahold of your dad.

"They laughed?" "THEY LAUGHED," You shake your head, pouring coffee from the hotel coffeemaker into a pretty white mug. "Hey, at least you know he won't be a momma's boy," B/f/n laughs. After the day you've had, you'd give anything to be sleeping over house and sipping wine together over this hot gossip, but you suppose facetime will have to do for now. "I honestly don't even know about this anymore. I mean, if the incident at the airport was only our first time meeting, who's to say we won't absolutely kill each other once we're shoved together for 24 hours a day? Maybe this is like...an omen or something." "Or maybe," Her expression shows a tinge of excitement, "this could be the start of a romantic enemies to lovers romance?" You roll your eyes, "Be serious, right now. Please. I'm losing my mind here." "I am being serious! I mean think about it- two fiery personalities under one roof, you're beautiful, he's beautiful-" "How do you know he's beautiful?" You furrow your brows. "Aha! So you think he's beautiful?" She asks, mischief coating her tone like honey for bees. "I-I didn't say that... I mean, he is but that's completely besides the point," You blush. "Ugh, I'm honestly jealous of you." "Don't be. Life isn't some cheesy K-drama, you know." "Oh but it is," She sighs dreamily, "And you're the main character, honey." "Whatever...hey, I'm gonna have to let you go. I gotta try to call my dad again so he can help me look over this contract." "Alrighty- call me in the morning so I can approve your outfit for high tea." "Yeah, yeah, yeah."

You sit at the desk in your room, your eyes glued to the manila envelope; you don't even want to open it. For as long as your parents have been preparing you for this day, you feel so unsure. On paper, an arranged marriage is easy. You fulfill the duty expected of you, make sure your end of the bargain is being held up and reap the benefits: a stable life, steady income... "The Jeon empire." You echo the words from Mr.Jeon's text. It's crazy how he can so easily make his son's engagement sound like a business email. You guess that's how he and your dad get on so well. You take your phone out of your pocket and punch in your dad's number, though you're much less hopeful about actually being able to reach him. As usual, the phone rings and rings- though as you're about to just give up, you hear the click of it answering, followed by your dad's sleepy voice, "Hey honey," He says. You let out a sigh of relief; your dad's voice has always been able to soothe you almost instantly. "Dad- I've been trying to reach you all day." "I know, Sweetie- It's just been a hectic day. I'm sorry about that." "It's okay, dad." "How was your day? How'd the first meet go?" You look down, unsure about whether or not to be honest, though you quickly decide to just bite the bullet. You swallow hard before taking a deep breath, "Well, funny story- You see, I'd just landed at the airport and there was this group of people just huddled around Jungkook, though of course, I didn't know in that moment that it was Jungkook-" You're interrupted by loud snoring at the other end of the line, to which your entire face drops, "Gee, thanks for the support Dad. By the way, I slapped the shit out of my soon-to-be-fiance and now, I'm not even sure if there'll be an engagement. Isn't that great for us?" No response. He really fell asleep in the middle of you crisis. You put your face in your hand, completely giving up, "Sweet dreams, dad."

You're much too mentally crowded to try to look over the contract right now, so instead, you resort to doing what you do best: internet stalking. You're not sure why you hadn't thought of it before- looking Jungkook up on socials. You type in his name and, lo and behold, there he is. His completely public account stares you square in the face, along with his hefty following of 23,000+ followers. Your eyes widen in surprise. Who knew such an unlikeable person could be so popular? You look at the various pictures he's uploaded, scoffing at most of them. Selfies as far as the eye can see, mixed in with some of his hand gripping the steering wheel to whatever luxury car he's driving on any given day, some of hangouts with friends (many of which you remember from the airport). The comments are a mix of bros complimenting his physique and various possessions, as well as many women saying some of the most vile and thirsty shit you've ever seen- and you're almost certain he laps it all up like a thirsty dog.

One picture catches your eye in particular from a little over two years ago; he's sitting on a dock at what looks like a lake. He's in his swimming trunks, giving what looks like the only genuine smile on his entire profile- a pretty girl is sat next to him, leaning on him with an equally wide smile. Her arm hangs around his neck, pulling him close. He has a girlfriend...? You furrow your brows and chew your bottom lip; you can't be expected to follow through with this contract with someone who's in an active relationship- arranged marriage or not, you're not going to be sharing your husband. "She's tagged..." You mumble, noticing the symbol in the corner of the picture. You click on it, and it leads you to her profile; a wapping 50k followers. Every picture is perfectly angled and coordinated for the perfectly aestheticized feed. She's a model, it looks like. You've always been a fairly confident woman, but even you know there's no competing. "Lisa..." Even her name is simple and cute.

You look at the time. 11:00PM. "I should go to bed..." You mutter, though you don't feel tired at all. You shut your computer and just sit there for a moment; your mind races with so many different thoughts and feelings. Can you really go through with this? Do you even really have a choice? You're stuck between a rock and a hard place here, and the time difference between South Korea and home is making you feel extra lonely right about now...

Your eyes flutter open, triggered by the stream of light that's shining directly onto your face from the open window right next to you. You groan, turning your head in the other direction, though you quickly realize you're still sitting at the desk. "What the hell," Your head shoots straight up, and you wipe the drool off of your face. You wince at the immediate soreness in your back. Slowly, you scoot the chair out from under the desk to let yourself out and make your way over to the night stand where you'd left your phone charging last night. Six missed calls (all from your mom, of course), and one text from Mrs.Jeon. You sigh, swiping on the misseds call and bringing the phone up to your ear.

"Hello?" You say into the phone when it finally connects you. "YOU SLAPPED THE BOY!?" Your mom's voice practically bursts your eardrum. You close your eyes and let out a deep sigh. "HOW COULD YOU EMBARRASS US LIKE THIS!? YOU BETTER HOPE YOUR FATHER DOESN'T FIND OUT-" "Mom." "- AND YOU BETTER HOPE THEY DON'T RESCIND THEIR OFFER-" "Mom." "-I RAISED YOU BETTER THAN THIS-" "MOM!" You snap, your anger getting the best of you. Silence. "Mom- I'm sorry. Yesterday was a really shitty day and I didn't sleep well." "Is that my fault?" She asks. You purse your lips. Kinda. "Can you just listen, mom? I promise I had a good reason." "Well, go on. What reason could you possibly have had for slapping this nice young boy?" Your eye twitches at her assumption of his character. "Mom, the guy is a complete asshole." "Mind your language, Y/n. Men don't like women with potty mouths." "You literally curse like a sailor." "Yes, but I'm married." You roll your eyes, "Mom, one of his friends shoved me at the airport and instead of helping me, he was a complete jerk, publicly humiliated me and then tried to pay me off with a measly little two hundred bucks. Everyone was watching and laughing at me." "So, you slapped him because his friend shoved you?" Her tone is incredulous and mocking. You just can't win with your parents. Not at all. All your life, they've been this way. Everyone gets to say, do, and feel whatever they want and you just have to keep your head down and take it. That's how they made it to where they are in life, and that's how they've raised you to be. That's why you're in this predicament in the first place: endure this fake ass marriage to get to stability and wealth, even if it's to a complete douche bag with no ounce of basic human decency. "Mom, I'll just call you later." "Yeah, you will call me later, and you better fix this. We've worked too hard to get your to this point and we will not let your irresponsibility screw it up for all of us." All of us, she says. All of us? Without another word, you hang up the call, and, as you always do- you gather yourself and get ready for the long and arduous day ahead of you.

You bite your lip as you watch the floors numbers on the elevator go higher and higher. Mrs.Jeon's text from this morning was a reminder to dress "smart casual" for high tea, and also her asking if you're okay with cucumber sandwiches. You thought for sure you'd have enough time to mentally prepare, but it's like the hours just flew by and you barely got anything done. The elevator dings, indicating you've reached your designated floor. "Just breathe..." You say to yourself, trying to calm your nerves. Maybe you should've had a shot of something before coming up, just to take the edge off. High tea is being served on the rooftop of the hotel you're staying at, and it is quite beautiful. Floor to ceiling windows wrap around almost the entire room, with a glass door leading to the balcony that would overlook the entire city. There are lots of tables around the room, though the only one actually set is at the opposite end from the elevator. "Y/n," Mrs.Jeon greets you, standing from her seat to receive you at the table. You bow as low as you can, "Mrs.Jeon, how are you?" "I'm doing just fine, thank you. Please have a seat," She says, motioning to the chair across her at the small table. You're delighted at the sight of the tiered stand with various different pastries and snacks, decorated nicely fresh flowers. "Wow, it's really beautiful," You say. "Thank you- our hotel gets fresh flowers every day from the nursery down the block. We like to support local businesses." "Well, that's generous of you." A waiter comes with a tea pot in hand, pouring some into the pretty tea cup in front of you on a small saucer. "Thank you," You say, bowing slightly. He pours some into Mrs.Jeon's cup as well, and gives a bow before leaving. Everyone's much more respectful here in Korea. Well, not everyone...

"I hope you don't mind, I told your mom about what happened between you and Jungkook yesterday," She chuckles, "I hope I didn't get you in too much trouble." You smile, thinking back to this morning's call, "Oh no, don't worry." "Truthfully, my husband and I were pleasantly surprised at how fiercely you stood your ground with him." "Oh no, I'm-I'm truly embarrassed." That's not a total lie, either; after your 'internet research' last night, you kept replaying the entire thing in your head over and over and thinking you should've just talked away. "Don't be," She takes the cream and pours a bit in her cup before offering to pour for you, "We know our son can be...a bit of an asshole." Your eyes widen at her colorful language. You almost want to ask her to repeat herself so you can record it and send it to your mom as vindication. "Oh, I don't know him very well..." And yet, you agree with her. "I hope you know you didn't ruin anything. My husband and I feel very strongly, even more so now, that you're the perfect fit fr our family." Your heartbeat picks up in your chest; you were sure you blew your chance to bits, but here she is, offering it all on a silver platter for you. "Wow, thank you. I was worried I'd messed it all up." "Of course not. I'm sure I worried your mom as well, didn't I?" You laugh nervously, "Just a bit." "I'm sure she chewed you out after our call. I'll be sure to call her again after this to ease her mind." "Thank you, that would mean a lot." "Sure. Now, after this, I want you to head straight to your suite and look over those papers! We sent a copy to your parents as well so everyone's on the same page." "Yes, of course."

The rest of the time was spent trading stories and memories of your respective childhoods, even some memories of when you and Jungkook were really little, when you'd play outside for hours and hours. Even then, you'd boss him around and he'd be after you like a puppy. If only things could be that easy again... Though, you've always been a big believer in the idea that anything worth having is also worth fighting for.

A/N: Hope you enjoyed the second installment! I know it was a long one but I'm having such a fun time writing it. Arranged marriage plots with an enemies/lovers trope is like my personal brand of h*roine (Twilight references for the win). As always, a comment/like is absolutely always encouraging and veyr much appreciated. Plz give me your validation UwU <3

[nymph-ette111]

I’m happy to know you enjoy our interactions too and that you liked my little tangent there. I’m glad that you searched for accounts from actual people who have the disorder rather than pseudo-psychologists, because they are often the harshest without a shred of accuracy (just the way they talk about the narcissist’s eyes turning a demonic black is enough to make me exit the article).

To be fair, Quora is one of the worst places when it comes to accepting people with npd. So I’m glad you managed to find something that didn’t conclude in a pro-eugenics rant lead by a divorced dad who is certain his ex wife is a narcissist because she took the kids. And since I chose my first paper this school year to be about npd and gender (we could write about anything, it was to test our abilities in general), I had to go through a ton of those. They ranged from absolutely hilarious to restraining order worthy. Thankfully Google Scholar saved me from that (though I would never suggest reading studies upon studies on a topic for x reader headcanons, I’m only saying this to sort of validate where my understanding of it came from). Since, yk, it’s a relatively fresh thing (recognised since the 80s I believe) and the fact that I had a therapist who diagnosed me correctly and knew how to approach it is pure luck

Also just any dog metaphor is delightful but it fits so well with Toby too?? Like, it just feels so right when people do that. And I can genuinely see Jeff having some npd traits, good call^^

Ben is just so!!! He’s awful in the best way. I want to kiss him and also put him in a blender for fun :3 i want to drive him insane. And also hold hands maybe. Like, yeah, realistically I would lose my sanity if he liked me but he’s so fun

Also yeah, that’s why I like your blog so much. You don’t shy away from making them hard to be around, hurt, mean. All kinds of messed up but also fun to read about. That’s why I also said that they would probably have an easy time with hurting me mentally, bc if they were aware of just how paranoid I am they would absolutely do what I did in that friend example, only 10 times worse (like, specifically saying stuff they know gets a reaction out of me to force me to stay or do whatever). In all honesty, this might be just why I like creepypasta characters (especially this specific portrayal of them). I mean, it does fit into that type of ‚pleople may be nice but they are out to get you at all times so you need to act to survive’. It’s kind of a safe way to experience something that is both natural to me and also absolutely unsafe irl. Like, yeah, I would have to walk on eggshells to be with Toby but also that is the way I see any sort of relationship either way. Sometimes, I’m more uncomfortable with the pure fluff bc that feels fake and unnatural. On that note, Toby to me is so untreated-bpd coded

-⭐︎

Agreed Ben is so fucking stupid I want to gnaw on him and push him down the stairs, what a silly fella. You don't know how happy it made me when you said you liked my blog :') when I shared my first post I thought it wouldn't get any attention, and I would just end up deleting the blog all together so hearing someone actually enjoys these little headcanons I make about fictional serial killers is so nice <3

you said everything so perfectly I have nothing to add, and yes toby is fucking miserable any disorder he has is 100% untreated and yes I love him and yes I want him and—

[ultraericthered]

Speaking of Lily Orchard bullshit, this is PEAK Lily Orchard bullshit.

Tragic backstories are a way to guilt you for wanting to kill a villain, because killing villain = bad. It’s part of the way so many storytellers are so ideologically stagnant and passively support abusers over victims. Many villains are abuse victims turned abusers because every male writer thinks they’re the first person to come up with that.

Uuuuh, what now? Plenty of villains with tragic backstories have, in fact, been killed in the end. That statement about “so many storytellers” makes no sense and comes with not a shred of evidence to back up the claim, and that generalizing about “male writers”???

What many people consider “morally complex villains” tend to just be heroic people filtered through the lens of lazy centrism. 

OR, hear me out here, they could be morally complex leaning-towards-bad people whose actions cannot be judged as anything but “villainous”, filtered through the lens of basic centrism, ethical standards and principles, and common sense morality that most decent people, regardless of whatever their differences, live by.

Oftentimes they just take something objectively good and shovel some pure evil villainy onto it.  Almost every “morally complex villain” is just “We want to fight against systems of oppression and lift up the second class citizens… we will achieve this by boiling kittens in lava.” It’s not compelling, it’s just how a writer supports authoritarian regime without just coming out and saying “I simp for facsism.”

Oh no, it’s that “Marvel Villain” argument again. If boiling kittens in lava was a legitimate, actually working means towards dismantling an oppressive system and toppling a regime, people like Lily here would absolutely be gung-ho for kitten boiling. The ethical dilemma and hideous, heinous nature of the thing would mean nothing against such “eye on the prize” mentality - it’s all about the results they personally want, not however many innocents might get seriously hurt or worse in the proccess. It’s all heart with no mind or soul.

These people aren’t morally complex villains. They’re heroic people having villainy shoved onto them BY real life villains. 

So is she referring to the fictional characters as “heroic people” and the real people creating them and writing their stories as “real life villains?”  Is that really what she’s trying to suggest here?

RWBY did this, Steven Universe did this, Legend of Korra did this, those shows could not simp for the status quo any harder if they fucking tried.

Except for all the times they changed or modified the status quo, making gradual progress in working towards a better future? Got it.

That’s the con at play here. You see a protest, the people in power said “It’s a riot” and you believed them.

Sometimes it’s a riot. Othertimes it’s aggressive activism and open rebellion. And othertimes still, it’s terrorism. That last one is evil, btw.

That throughline doesn’t work without the centrist/conservative viewpoint. It’s why “morally complex villains” don’t appeal to me in the slightest. Because I know why they were written this way.

Wow, Lily’s veered so far Left that she now lumps centrism and conservatism together even though they are quite different things. The idea behind a complex villain is that it’s meant to be acessible and understandable to anyone living the human experience while also showing where and how one might step wrong. Cautionary tales work best when the damned character is identifiably human, like us.

I can’t look at the Equalists and see anything but Bryke venting their anger about those entitled Occupy Wall Street kids. I can’t look at Villain Sylvanas and see anything but Alex Afrasaibi projecting his extreme and well documented hatred of women onto a character he’s been wanting to make into a villain for a long time and couldn’t until Chris Metzen retired.

Well I can, but if you can’t then that’s on you. :P

This wasn’t a somber tale of the victim becoming the abuser. This was a real abuser villainizing his real victims through a character he had hated for a very long time. That’s what this shit is. That’s what it has always been. It was never smart, it was just abusive rhetoric caked through layers of irony and navel gazing. Abusers said “Our victims will become evil people for seeking retribution” and a bunch of people just took them at their word.

Blah blah blah blah BLAH, this is what I’ve heard said about a lot of villains (who Lily would probably hate as well, ironically) - heard this about Rumpelstiltskin, heard it about Kylo Ren, heard it about Prince Lotor, heard it about Billy Hargrove, heard it about Simon Laurent, heard it about Grant Ward, I’m just so fucking sick of it at this point.

We’ve long since pulled back the curtain and revealed the lie of “complex villains.” 

No. No we have not. This is your self-important delusions speaking.

Some irony-poisoned weirdo will go “Some villains think they’re saving the world” yeah, every fucking tyrant thinks they’re the real hero, that doesn’t mean it’s true. 

And that’s often the whole purpose behind the complex villain. That you can appreciate their complexity as a fictional character while also seeing what condemns such a character “as a person” in terms of their unjustifiable behavioral problems and reprehensible actions. It doesn’t mean we have to sympathize with, like, or “enjoy” such evildoers in real life, or that we’re being taught to do so in any way. If you grow up right into a properly functioning, thinking, reasoning adult, you’re able to separate fiction from reality in order to do this. But sadly, Lily didn’t. so she doesn’t. 

The Nazis thought they were saving the world, but you’re not supposed to believe them when they tell you that. They were a bunch of egotistical losers, blaming all their failures on the Jews.

Godwin’s Law! There it is! Lily definitively fails, and this is in addition to missing that we’re not supposed to believe in what most of the villains she whines about say - only believe that they believe it. 

Evil isn’t complex. It’s banal.

This is true. What’s also true is that human beings are complex, and thus what draws human beings towards evil is complex.

Unless you are the kind of person who sides with that evil and need to convince others that evil looks different. Evil’s justifications are fake. Their goals are lies, their excuses weak, and their tragic backstories insignificant, and if you believed any of them… you’re a fool.

Y’know, it really fits that she is saying this directly to her followers.

[binniedeactivated]

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐆𝐚𝐦𝐞𝐬 𝐰𝐞 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐲. || c.bg

─▸🖤 ❝ @[@𝐛𝐮𝐠𝐬𝐛𝐢𝐧𝐧𝐢𝐞 𝐢𝐬 𝐭𝐲𝐩𝐢𝐧𝐠.. ]

✎𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: 𝐛𝐞𝐨𝐦𝐠𝐲𝐮 𝐱 𝐛𝐥𝐚𝐜𝐤!𝐠𝐢𝐫𝐥

✎ 𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐞:  𝐫𝐨𝐲𝐚𝐥 𝐫𝐢𝐯𝐚𝐥𝐫𝐲, 𝐬𝐦𝐮𝐭

✎ 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭; 3k

𝐬𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬; 𝐢𝐧 𝐰𝐡𝐢𝐜𝐡 𝐦𝐢𝐱𝐞𝐝 𝐛𝐥𝐨𝐨𝐝𝐬 𝐚𝐫𝐞𝐧'𝐭 𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐨𝐰𝐞𝐝 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐝𝐨𝐦. 𝐬𝐨 𝐩𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐞 𝐛𝐞𝐨𝐦𝐠𝐲𝐮 𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐝𝐬 𝐭𝐨 𝐡𝐚𝐭𝐞 𝐡𝐞𝐫.

𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒; 𝐧𝐨𝐧𝐞

a/n; everything is fictional! 

the night was young but more often than not it was filled with bustling chatter and soft violins stringing through the ballroom. alas, it was the celebration of Queen Choi’s 65th birthday and the parliament was gathering tonight on the sparkling marble floors of the choi residence. in their normal herd, the choi brothers were dappered up their white ruffle collared dress shirts and suit jackets in the midst of the crowd alongside their cousins, prince taehyun and prince kai. no matter what the occasion was, they were always dressed gorgeously.  each of their hair was parted and curled beautifully over top of their eyebrows. their suits were made of the highest quality and tailored to their body shapes. they wore the finest of jewelry plated with pure gold. being born into a royal family full of riches had it’s perks and they always shone brightly on the five. 

“good evening your highness. might I compliment you on how handsome you look tonight?”. she bowed graciously in front of choi beomgyu who was currently taking a sip of his white wine. he swallowed just before staring her in her hopeful eyes. “no you may not. what you can do though is give me and my blood some space to talk. carry on”. he says before waving her off. she frowns shortly and walks away, leaving the rest of the four chuckling in her trail. 

“damn. so much for being courted”. taehyun mumbles taking a sip of his wine as well. yeonjun playfully pushes his youngest brother’s shoulder. “you know you’re up next to get married. it’s only a matter of time before mother arranges it”. 

beomgyu shrugs, “I don’t want anyone mother has for me. nor do I want any of these women who court me either. all they’re looking for is get rich quick schemes anyways”. 

“then what are you going to do? if you don’t get married soon you will never hold a higher spot in parliament”. kai adds. 

“literally. while all of us, yeonjun hyung, taehyun, kai and me, are being crowned you’re still going to be prince beomgyu”. soobin laughs holding his glass up to the air, sipping the last of his beverage in the sea of the group’s laughter.

“with no type of power or authority”. taehyun adds making the four of them laugh even harder. beomgyu rolls his eyes. he could admit, maybe it was embarrassing that even the youngers Taehyun and Kai were getting married before him. but that was only because the boys knew who they wanted and courted them accordingly. and also because the boys married safely within royalty. 

but beomgyu knew who he wanted as well. only, he wasn’t allowed to marry her. for she was of royalty of course but she was of different blood. she was apart of the choi family’s biggest rival, King and Queen Hendrix. 

and of course right at the very thought of her, she arrived. see, even if the choi’s and hendrix’s were rivals no matter what-- all royal families were invited to all events and celebrations and were required to attend, almost being forced to make peace each time both families saw each other. 

“here they go with their bullshit. if they start anything this time it’s going to be a problem”. yeonjun grumbles watching the King and Queen walk in with cheshire cat smiles and folks bowing to them accordingly. it was only a matter of time before the both of them approached the boys and of course they were all required to bow. 

“nice to see that you all are aging well. perhaps when you’re crowned you’ll assist our Princes with any decision making in the kingdom”. Queen hendrix spoke holding her head high and her lips tight. She always had this sweet tone in her voice laced with demise. heuning kai nods. “of course your highness. we’ll all make a wonderful royal family”. she gave them another smug glance and made a hmph noise just before walking off. as soon as she was out of sight yeonjun sucks his teeth. 

“i swear you’re such a kiss up heuning”. 

“what am I supposed to do? wave her off like beomgyu hyung does his courts? no thank you I don’t want to get killed”. 

they were arguing but choi beomgyu was eyeing her. yes, princess aaliyah. she happened to be wearing a brown sparkly mermaid tale gown. her hair was done up in a high curly ponytail with some curly strands hanging down in front of her face and diamond earrings dangling at her neck. her almond shaped eyes immediately met beomgyu’s and a smirk flickered at the corner of her thick umber glossed lips. he smirks back and let’s his eyes wander her body. 

pft. it wouldn’t be the first time they’ve done it before. 

she adjusts her jewelry before strutting her way over. 

“and here comes bitchy princess”. tyun says, chewing on the leftover ice in his glass. soobin rolls his eyes. “why is she coming over here?”. 

“to talk about how her brothers are going to make better kings than us. what the hell else is new”. yeonjun adds. 

“good evening”. she bows. “I see you gentlemen aren’t socializing much. it’s hard to be crowned when you barely know anything about your people”. 

“you just arrived your highness. may I ask, how would you know what we’ve been doing?”. beomgyu snarls. 

“i assume it isn’t anything different from what you all do at any other occasion”.  

“and why is it any of your concern?”. beomgyu sneers again. the boys were silently laughing on the inside. beomgyu was the only one who was never afraid of talking to princess aaliyah the way she deserved without consequences. it was mainly why they always let him do the talking whenever she came around. 

she licks her upper set of teeth and smirked at his attitude. it was sexy. “you’re soon to be crowned with my brothers it’s always of my concern”. 

“well I think there’s some time until then isn’t there? run along your highness”. 

she sucks her teeth and he steals short glances at her boobs almost spilling out her dress. “you’re right. I have better things to do other than approach a bunch of undeserving halfwits. if you’ll excuse me”. she replies arrogantly before strutting away, beomgyu’s eyes following her petite frame until she was almost out of sight. 

“did you see how defeated she looked? ah! that shit was priceless”. yeonjun laughs amongst the boys once she was finally away. “i swear hyung I don’t know how you aren’t dead already. if that was any of us we’d be gone by the time we take our next breath”. taehyun mentions. beomgyu laughs with them. “I don’t know either. I have to use the bathroom though. I’ll be right back”. he assures. 

“fuckk mmh”. she whimpers trying to keep her volume at a minimum. they knew that if anyone were to find out about their affairs they’d be getting exiled. but that didn’t keep choi beomgyu’s head from under aaliyah’s dress. as soon as they bustled into the wash room he sat her on top of the washing machine and proceeded to eat her shamelessly. 

he wraps his tongue around her clit and sucks her wet folds generously, holding her legs open with his hands. he glares up at her with the most innocent eyes while he was doing so ripping her heart into shreds. he wrangles his tongue along each and every part of her making her back arch in absolute bliss. she felt herself. pound at the feeling of his slimy tongue sucking on her sensitive nub. 

“fuck! gyu you’re such a good boy for me”. she moans in a whisper running her hands through his hair. she tongue kisses her clit attentively. “you taste so fucking good”. he praised just before sticking his tongue inside of her. he presses his thumb against her swollen nub while tongue fucking her sensitive core. she pants with beads of sweat glissading down her chest. her hips stuttered against his lips. 

and beomgyu liked it. he loved when he was the one pleasuring her. he loved seeing her pretty face contorted in pleasure. he loved how erotic she sounded when she moaned. he loved how sometimes she’d get so wet for him he could see it through her pantties. he loved having her much needed bliss at his disposal. and he didn’t care what he had to do to get his fix. 

he always ate her slow and steady, taking his time but spending quality time in the places she loved, licking and sucking like his life depended on it. he dug into her thighs with his hands and dragged his tongue up and down her folds. he’d bob his head obediently sucking on her and moaning at her taste. she clutches his hair shaking at his speed. he ate painfully slow but it felt better that way. she loved when he took his precious time eating her as if it was his art. 

 but most importantly she enjoyed the risk of it all. him eating her when she knew it was forbidden. but she couldn’t get enough of beomgyu’s tongue and his lips. the way he fucked her hard and rough and looked at her like she was the best thing to ever happen to him. 

“oh god I’m going to c-cum”. she whines and beomgyu did nothing but ignore her cries and continue to let his tongue ruin her in every possible way. each time he slips his tongue out it was left with more precum than it went in with and he loved it all too much. he cradles her hips to his face to deepen the thrusts and she shakes at the overbearing feeling. “fuckk you’re so good with your mouth”. she breathes with her eyes rolling to the back of her head. she steadily grinds her hips down on his tongue. 

“yes fuck my mouth please”. he begs. 

“promise me you’ll only eat me like this choi beomgyu”. she pants desperately trying to chase the orgasm she needed. 

he squeezes her thighs feeling himself get hard at the sound of her needy noises and squirming.

“I promise i’ll always eat your pussy like this”

[wiypt-writes]

Riding High

Ch8: Adler vs Adler

Chapter Summary: The gloves are off in court as Frank faces off against his mother.

Chapter Warnings: Bad Language words. Talk of suicide.

Chapter Pairings:  Frank Adler x OFC Fliss Gallagher

A/N: Contains SPOILERS for the film!!!!! If you haven’t seen it please be aware of that before you read on. Also, those of you who do know this film well will see that I’ve changed the dates referenced in the court case, that’s because I brought the timeline of Gifted forward from 2015 (when it was filmed) to 2017 (when it was released). This was mainly to suit Fliss’ backstory of the Olympics. 2015 is too close to 2012 for me to make it work. Also Frank’s middle name is an absolute H/C too as I couldn’t find it anywhere so, sorry if this annoys any of you but, to quote @icanfeelastormbrewing- “my coffee, my fic, my rules…”

Disclaimer: This is a pure work of fiction and classified as 18+. Please respect this and do not read if you are underage. I do not own any characters in this series bar Fliss Gallagher and the other OCs. By reading beyond this point you understand and accept the terms of this disclaimer.

Riding High Masterlist // Main Masterlist

Chapter 7

“And love, if your wings are broken, borrow mine so yours can open too…’cause I’m gonna stand by you”

 The first bit of evidence the next morning was the findings of the Welfare Department’s investigation. It had thrown nothing out of the ordinary up. The house was clean enough, Mary was fed, but they did point out that their current living arrangements wouldn’t be suitable for much longer as Mary would need her own room as she grew older, something which Frank’s attorney accepted on behalf of Frank, stating to the court that Frank had already considered this. Which in fairness he had. The Welfare Department continued then, stating that Mary’s interview the previous day hadn’t thrown up anything of concern, even if there were some questionable TV viewing habits, namely Ultimate Fighting on a Saturday night, but they were satisfied that overall Mary was suffering no ill effects, mentally or physically from being with Frank.

This took them just under an hour, as they were factual reports. Both Attorney’s requested clarification on certain points but there were no questions or cross examinations to be done. As such they had concluded just after eleven am and there was then a small ten minute break to allow a quick consultation between clients and attorney’s before Evelyn was to take to the stand. As people moved around, passing papers and files to one another, Frank turned in his seat and just as he glanced round, someone left the courtroom and through the open door Fliss walked in, dressed in a smart pair of black jeans and a light blue strappy top. He flashed her a smile and she gave a small wave, settling onto a seat next to Roberta who gave her a hug. She’d missed the early session due to having to sort the horses out but she’d cleared her diary and brought in cover for the rest of the day so she could be there to lend him support.

And even though the morning had, all in all, been favourable to him, Frank felt his spirits raise even more at the sight of her there in his corner so to speak. Tearing his eyes away from her, Frankturned back to Greg who was watching him, eyebrow raised.

“Well that’s a mighty big smile Frank.”

“I just spotted some additional back up, that’s all.” Greg turned to see the woman who was now talking to Roberta and he grinned, spinning back to Frank “Let me guess, Fliss?”

Frank nodded “Yeah, I’ll introduce you later.”

Greg raised his eyebrow, smiling a little. “I look forward to it. Anyway, back to business. That opening report from the Welfare Department was good, well as good as it’s gonna get. But dude, Ultimate Fighting? Really?”

“It’s harmless fun.” Frank shrugged

Greg shook his head “Whatever. This next bit ain’t gonna be as easy.” “No shit.” Frank mumbled, looking at his mother as she said something to Highsmith, her attorney. “She’s going to rip me to pieces, and no doubt enjoy doing it too.” “Yep.” Greg nodded “But just keep doing what you’re doing. No outbursts, stay quiet, focussed and listen. If she says something that isn’t accurate, or you think of anything we can use, note it down and I’ll use it in my cross examination, okay?” Frank nodded as Judge Nicholls banged his gavel down and issued instructions for everyone to reconvene. He called Evelyn to the stand where she was sworn in and Highsmith stood up and began firing questions at her, a well-practiced dance, Frank could tell.

From the gallery Fliss watched intently. She’d been missed the first session but Roberta had hastily filled her in, telling her it had gone well. She shot Frank another encouraging smile, just as the judge called them back to order, and couldn’t help but notice how good he looked in his suit. A far cry from his dirty jeans and ratty work t-shirts. Which, if she was honest, she preferred…

Evelyn took to the stand and Fliss felt herself bristling as she proceeded to utterly character assassinate Frank, depicting him as nothing more than an irresponsible bum, floating around with no purpose to life, a man who didn’t care about Mary’s welfare, preferring to simply fly by the seat of his pants instead of giving her any decent roots or thoughts to her needs. At one point, they started to question his motivations towards taking Mary being more about punishing Evelyn that actually caring about the girl. To this Frank’s attorney objected and as the two lawyers began to argue, Fliss found her nails cutting into her palms as she clenched her fists. Roberta gently reached out and squeezed her arm and she turned to the woman next to her and gave her a tight smile.

“Frank’s attorney, Greg Cullen, he’s good…” Roberta whispered, “He’ll go at her when he gets his chance, you’ll see.”

The objection was overruled, the judge telling Cullen he would get his chance to challenge that statement in his cross examination, and Cullen sat down, leaning over to whisper something to Frank who nodded, his eyes not once leaving his mother. Cullen jotted something down as Evelyn continued.

By the time she finished it was almost one pm so they broke for lunch, Judge Nicholls instructing everyone to be back in an hour. Fliss and Roberta headed outside to wait for Frank who met them shortly after.

“Hey.” Fliss gave him a gentle hug. “How you holding up?”

“About as well as I can for someone whose own mother just tore them to shreds under oath.” Fliss’ eyes narrowed “I hope your guy is gonna give her as much of a shredding as she gave you.” “I’ll do my best.” A voice spoke from behind them. Fliss spun round to be greeted by Frank’s attorney.

“Fliss, this is Greg Cullen, Greg, Fliss Gallagher.” Frank introduced them to one another. “I’ve heard a lot about you.” Greg smiled at her, shaking her hand. Fliss looked up at Frank and was surprised to find a faint flush of red on his cheeks.

“All good I hope?” she grimaced and Cullen nodded.

“Oh, very good indeed. I’ve been dying to meet the woman who’s made such an impression on him.” “Greg, piss off.” Frank groaned in a tired voice before he nodded over the road to the café “Shall we grab some lunch?”

They ate together, making small talk, before Greg requested Frank join him alone for fifteen minutes to go over their plan for the rest of the afternoon. Frank stood, and without even thinking about it gave Fliss a quick peck on the cheek. He winced as soon as he had, noticing that Cullen and Roberta were watching him and, knowing Fliss was going to get an absolute drilling from Roberta, he shot her an apologetic look as he walked away. She simply smiled through her blush and shook her head, turning to Roberta who nudged her arm.

“Okay, what was that?” Greg asked as they walked back over the road. “Are you two erm…”

“It’s complicated.” Frank shrugged after a little pause. “We both, well we both like each other but with everything that’s going on we’re just kind of waiting, I suppose. I’m focussing on getting through whatever it is that happens with Mary and then hopefully...what?” he trailed off as Greg was smirking at him.

“Frank Adler. Finally found a girl he likes that much he ain’t simply trying to get her into bed. Wait till I tell the guys.”

Frank rolled his eyes and pointed to the courtroom “How about you concentrate on what’s gonna go on in there instead of what is or isn’t going on in my bedroom?”

Greg gave out a chuckle and patted his friend on the shoulder as they made their way in and headed into the side room they had reserved.

****

“Mrs. Adler, in your earlier testimony here today, you painted a pretty dim picture of your own son don't you think?” Cullen asked, tapping his pen on his note pad. Frank remained stony faced, watching his mother.

“I'm under oath, I take no pleasure in it.” She said with a glance at Frank before she looked down, almost convincingly.

Frank just about managed to refrain from rolling his eyes.

“So, your son is a failure in life, your daughter took her life, you know, you're oh for two.”

Fliss winced and glanced at Roberta as Highsmith said “Objection” in an almost bored voice

“Withdrawn.” Cullen’s voice took on an amused edge but as Fliss watched as Evelyn simply eyed him, completely un-phased.

“If I go one for three, I'm in the Hall of Fame.” she shot back.

“You know baseball.” Cullen pushed his chair back. “Fenway Park.”

At that something flickered in Evelyn’s eye as she glanced at Frank. Fliss followed her gaze and watched, just able to see the side of Frank’s face. His eyes were locked onto her, his expression never faltering.

“You know, I'd like to go there sometime.” Cullen stood up, pushing his glasses up onto his head as Evelyn turned back to him “How often in a year did you take Diane to the baseball game?”

“Diane wasn't interested in sports.” Evelyn replied

“She never wanted to go to a game? Ever?”

“I don't recall her ever asking.”

Cullen moved forwards a step and Fliss saw Frank’s eyes flick to him as he continued to question his mother.

“Just out of curiosity, Fenway, that's a tough ticket. Where do you get yours?”

“My husband has season tickets.”

“And how long has he had them?” Cullen enquired

“Thirty years. But I've only been married to him for twenty.” Evelyn informed him.

“And Diane never went to one game?”

Evelyn didn’t reply, simply raised her eyebrows slightly as if she was failing to see the point. Fliss’ eyes once again flicked to Frank who still hadn’t moved an inch.

“What colour was the dress Diane wore to prom?” Cullen changed his line of questions.

“Diane didn't attend the prom, because she didn't attend the high school.” Evelyn replied calmly

“No prom.” Cullen mused before he asked suddenly.“What sports did she play?”

“As I told you earlier, she wasn't interested in sports.”

“She’s calm.” Roberta whispered to Fliss as Cullen continued to question Evelyn about Diane’s lack of interaction with other children her age.

“Too calm.” Fliss nodded. “But I can see what he’s doing, trying to paint a picture of how she isolated Diane to imply that she’d do the same to Mary. You’re right, he’s good.”

As they tuned back into the examination again, Cullen took a deep breath and glanced to his left

“Mrs. Adler,” he looked back at her, “who's Paul Riva?”

At that Evelyn glanced at Frank, her calm mask slipping ever so slightly but still Frank didn’t move. Fliss could see his expression now carried a faint, and every so sad, smile.

Evelyn gave a silent huff before she looked back at Cullen “He was a boy from the neighbourhood.”

Her tone was clipped and Fliss noticed the judge sit forward slightly at her shift in attitude, narrowing his eyes a little as he watched her curiously.

“Oh, come on. He was much more than just a boy from the neighbourhood.  Paul was Diane's first love. Wasn't he?” Cullen asked.

Fliss and Roberta exchanged a glance.

“I wouldn't characterize it that way, no.” Evelyn shook her head.

“And how would Diane characterize it?”

“Diane was seventeen years old at the time. She didn't know anything about love.”

At that Fliss caught the first movement Frank had made since his mother had started talking. He took a deep breath and looked to his left before turning back, his shoulders moving slightly in frustration as he shook his head slightly, his eyes locking back onto his mother who was carefully avoiding his gaze.

“Mrs. Adler, in January 2000 didn't Diane and young Mr. Riva run away together?” Cullen looked at her.

“He coerced her.” Evelyn corrected with the air of someone picking her words carefully.

“And where did they go?”

“Vermont.”

“And you called the police, didn't you?” Cullen stated rather than asked.

“Yes.”

“Because he kidnapped her?”

“Yes”

“And where did the police find young Mr. Riva and Diane?” Cullen looked at Evelyn

“I told you, Vermont.” Evelyn looked at Cullen, her voice suddenly taking on an icy edge which made Fliss lean forward slightly.

“Stowe, Vermont. Wasn't it? A resort town.” Cullen looked round the court room as Evelyn shifted uncomfortably. “Stowe Mountain. He took her skiing. You see, kidnappers don't usually take their victims skiing.” Cullen paused from his explanation. When he spoke again his voice was calm, and slow, stressing the point perfectly “But this is what Paul did because he and Diane were in love.”

“No.” Evelyn refuted firmly

“And when they returned, you pressed kidnapping charges.” Cullen’s voice rose in volume and speed as he spoke. “You filed a lawsuit against his parents, until Paul stopped calling Diane. Didn't you?”

“Yes.”

“And Diane never heard of or saw Paul Riva again. Did she?” Cullen’s tone was harsh, accusatory as he stared at Evelyn.

“Poor girl.” Roberta mumbled besides her and Fliss shook her head, in utter shock at how a mother could be so damned cruel and out of touch with her own daughter. It made her feel a pang of sympathy for Mary’s mother despite never having known her. Fliss couldn’t imagine what she would do without either of her parents being as supportive as they were.

Evelyn must have answered as by the time Fliss turned her attention fully to what she was saying, as Cullen had asked another question.

“And how did she take it?”

“She was upset for a while. She lost focus.”

“She lost focus.” Cullen turned back to the desk and picked up a small file. “Mrs. Adler,” he turned back, file in hand, “in March of 2001 didn't Diane Adler attempt to take her own life?”

“This episode was minor. It was nothing.” Evelyn replied, her tone harsh.

“Nothing?” Fliss drew in a breath, shaking her head. For a moment she almost lost herself in another memory, of one rainy afternoon in Boston in October 2015, but she took a deep breath and focussed on where she was, as Cullen flashed the file at Evelyn.

“I have the hospital report in my hand.” he informed her

“It was nothing.” Evelyn said again, and now Fliss could see she was rattled. “Diane was not like regular people. She was extraordinary. And extraordinary people come with singular issues and needs.”

Fliss watched as Evelyn leant forward, her face creased in anger as she hissed “You have no idea of the capability she possessed. One in a billion. And you would say fine, let's throw that away, so the boy who cuts our yard can make a sexual conquest? Well maybe before you make that decision, you stand in my shoes. I had responsibilities, which went beyond the mother-daughter relationship.”

She took a deep breath and spoke again, her voice louder this time “The greatest discoveries, which have proved life on this planet have come from minds rarer than radium. Without them, we'd still be crawling in mud. And for your information, counsellor, a year after this incident with this boy Diane thanked me for my intervention. She realized she'd made a mistake and she thanked me. You see, Diane understood. She was accountable for the gift she'd been given. And she didn't shy from it.”

Every inch of Evelyn’s face was contorted with a mixture of pain and anger, and she radiated absolute fury across the courtroom as her rant built to its climax

“And I think, if she were here today, Mr. Attorney, she would refute your baseless insinuations, that she would give up her brilliant future and take her own life just because mummy didn't get her a little red wagon

There was a pause as she took a breath and sat back.

“No more questions.” Cullen said simply, turning back to his seat.

Fliss watched Frank who shifted, rubbing his chin with his left hand, his fingers curling round his jaw in an L shape as he stared at this mother, his face completely unreadable to anyone who didn’t know him, but to her she could see the pain in his eyes.

And from the look Evelyn gave him, it was obvious she’d seen it too.

***** When Mary returned home on the school bus that afternoon, Frank did his best to remain positive and keep his broodings to himself, and was thankful when Fliss suggested they head out for dinner with Roberta. The four of them went to the same restaurant he had met his mother at not long before where he ate, not really tasting his food, or listening as Fliss and Roberta chatted away. Instead his attention was completely on Mary who was stood with one of the waitresses at another table, pouring sand out of one of the bottles that was used to keep the tablecloths from blowing away. The thought that she could be without such simple pleasure of looking through sand for shells, and lost to a world of pressure and solitude like Diane had been, was breaking his heart.

He felt someone squeeze his hand at the same time Mary held up a shell and showed it to him. He took a deep breath and tried to rearrange his face into a smile as he turned to face Fliss.

“It’s going to be okay, Frank.” She looked at him and he swallowed, unable to form his words. Instead his fingers tightened around hers and she simply held his hand whilst they finished up their drinks.

Later that evening, once Mary was asleep inside the apartment, Frank and Fliss sat outside the kitchen door, shoulder to shoulder along the top step.

“You know, until I met you I thought sitting on a porch drinking beer was something only red necked hillbillies did.” Fliss teased him.

“Well, according to my mother that’s what I am.” he scoffed.

“And according to me your mother is a callous, cold hearted bitch.” Fliss spat, with such venom it made Frank look at her, his eyebrow raising a little. She took a deep breath, her voice softening “How can anyone dismiss a suicide attempt as nothing.”

Frank looked away, taking a pull from his beer. They sat in silence for a moment before Fliss broke it.

“You know back in 2015, about five months after I’d gotten married, I almost did it you know? Killed myself.”

Frank’s head turned to face her. She wasn’t looking at him, instead she remained focussed on a spot in the distance as she stared straight ahead. “My life was out of my control, and it was the only way I could think of getting some of that control back. So I took a shit load of buproprion and washed it down with half a litre of vodka.”

“Shit, Lissy I’m sorry, I had-” She waved his sympathy off and continued “After that I was offered all this help and support and-” she snorted bitterly, “I still went back to him. He convinced everyone, including me that the issue was the fact that I was still brooding over my career being cut so short, and then told me that having a kid would fix the issue. In reality there was no issue to fix. I wasn’t depressed as such, I was abused. And that was simply another way of him taking control.”

After a moment she turned to look at him, “I’m not saying your mother abused Diane, not as such but she isolated her for her own, selfish reasons, no matter how she tries to dress them up or convince herself that it was for Diane’s own good. That first suicide attempt your sister would have made a normal, loving parent sit up and pay attention to what was going on. I know it did mine, as Bill never trusted John’s explanation, not one word.” “I should have done more too.” Frank’s voice was choked as he looked down at his feet. “But I was so busy, wrapped up in my finals and…”

“Frank, Diane wasn’t your responsibility, you’re not her parent.”

“No but when Dad died, I promised I’d take care of her, always be there for her. I should have done more, and I should have known, when she turned up that day at mine with Mary…”

“Frankie.” Fliss cut him off, her hand taking his. “Take it from me, my mum and dad and brother went through all of this in their head. Did Diane give you any warnings at all because I know I didn’t?  Look at the lies and the world of fantasy I let John build up round me and detract from what was going on. I told nobody I was gonna do it Frank. And I told no body why I did it either.”

Frank sniffed and wiped at his nose slightly with his free hand.

“So you can either carry on beating yourself up over something that isn’t your fault or you can concentrate on getting the best outcome here for Mary.”

He reached for his beer which was on the step below him between his legs and nodded. She was right, he knew she was, but there would always be that part of him that wondered if he could have done more, it he should have done more.

“Are you planning on coming tomorrow?” he asked, looking at Fliss.

“Yeah, Joanne is covering again.”

“I don’t want to put you out.” he said gently, but she shook her head.

“It’s sorted.” Fliss smiled. “She wants the week of Thanksgiving off so she’s racking up the favours.”

“Well, from a purely selfish standpoint I’m glad.” He flexed his fingers against hers, looking down at where they were entwined.

“I’m not missing your testimony, if only for the sole reason of discovering what your full name is.” she teased as he looked at her. Frank gave a huff of a laugh “Francis Preston Adler, nice to meet you.” He tipped his bottle in her direction. “Preston?” She snorted “Get out of town! There’s a place in England called Preston, it’s like thirty miles away from my home!”

Frank smiled, before he sighed.

“Last day tomorrow isn’t it?” Fliss looked at him as he stared straight ahead.

He let out a breath “Yeah, well last day of evidence. Then we have to wait for however long it takes the judge to read all the reports and make a ruling.”

“Well then, I suggest you get some sleep, or as much as you can.” Fliss kissed his cheek, and with that she released his hand and stood up. Frank followed her lead, rising to her feet. “Oh, and FYI I got an absolute interrogation off Roberta before when you did that to me. Felt like it was me in the dock, not Evelyn.” For the first time all evening Frank laughed.

******

The gloomy, rainy morning matched Frank’s mood perfectly.

He sat in the dock dressed in his suit, feeling as out of place as anyone could. Greg went through the questions he had coached Frank on, questions designed not to paint him as a saint but to simply be real and portray him as a normal person, doing the best he could for his niece in line with his sister’s wishes. Frank answered them honestly. Was he perfect? No. Had he done things correctly? No. Did he wish he had spotted Diane was struggling? Yes. Did he love Mary and want the best for her? With every breath he had.

The questions continued along those lines until they broke for lunch. And then came the cross examination, and Frank knew he was in for a beating.

“Mr. Adler where are you currently employed?” Highsmith asked sitting on the desk to the left of Evelyn.

“I repair boats.” Frank answered clearly

“Oh, really? At which marina?”

“I don't work at a marina. I freelance.”

“So, safe to say, no health insurance.”

“No.” Frank shook his head

“About a week before your sister took her life what were you doing for a living then?”

“I was a teacher.” Frank replied.

“You're being modest, aren't you?” Highsmith said, standing up and walking towards the dock “You were a professor at Boston University Isn't that right?

“Yes, well, assistant professor.”

“And what'd you teach?”

“Philosophy.”

“Truth and logic. That sort of thing.” Highsmith gestured with his hands and Frank simply smiled as the man continued. “Your attorney said that the primary reason that you took Mary is because it was what your sister would've wanted you to do. Is that a truth?”

“Yes.” Frank implored

“So Diane had visited Pinellas County before?”

“No.” Frank said with almost an air of amusement on his face as he looked at his mother for a second before he glanced down and joined his hands in front of him in his lap.

“She indicated she wanted her daughter uprooted and moved here?”

Frank shook his head, closing his eyes. “No”

“No.” Highsmith repeated “So you decided to bring Mary here, didn't you?”

Frank licked his lips and drew in a deep breath as he simply stared as his mother. He was pleased so see her shift in her seat

“Did Diane had a problem with your health plan at Boston University?” Highsmith pressed.

Frank wanted to laugh. The guy was doing exactly what Greg had warned him he would do, attack his lack of healthcare, insinuate he wasn’t able or fit to provide for Mary. When he spoke his voice was calm, and he fought to keep his face as amicable as possible.

“Not to my knowledge.”

“Do you think she would want her daughter to have access to healthcare?”

Dumbass question

“Of course.” Frank nodded.

“So what do you do, when little Mary gets sick? You repair a doctor's boat?”

Frank scoffed a laugh as Cullen objected.

“Sustained.” Judge Nicholls shot Highsmith a look and Frank stole a glance at Fliss. If the situation wasn’t so serious he would have laughed at the identical look she wore to Roberta, both glaring at Highsmith like they were plotting his very painful death.

The rain outside continued to drive down as did Highsmith’s questions, the air punctuated every so often by a low rumble of thunder from the outside storm echoing what Frank was feeling inside.

“Prior to Mrs. Adler giving her one. Did Mary have a computer?”

“She used mine.”

“Mr. Adler, does Diane's daughter have her own bedroom?”

“No.”

“Does she sleep in a bed that you bought in a second hand shop?”

“Yes.” Frank looked ahead, focussing on keeping calm as Highsmith walked towards the dock, gesturing now with his hands, his tone winding up

“So, the truth is, Mr. Adler, that you didn't come down here because your sister wanted it to and you certainly didn't come here because it was good for Mary.”

Frank swallowed slightly and shifted a little, avoiding looking at the man as he tapped his hand on the side of the dock.

“No, it was personal. Diane was a star. You weren't. Diane got the attention. You didn't.”

Frank scoffed silently, oh please, and turned to look in the opposite direction.

“..and over the years You got angry. And here comes Mary. What a great way to get even.”

At that he audibly sighed. He had known this was coming, that his mother’s attorney would try and paint him as petty and vindictive but it still hurt to hear it. Hurt that his own mother would have someone attack him in such a way. He’d defend Mary to the hilt if someone was doing this to her…

“You've uprooted that little girl and brought her here for one reason only. To do harm to your mother. You blamed her for your sister.”

“No, I don't.” Frank broke his silence.

“And Mary to you is just a pawn in all this.”

And that did it, Mary wasn’t a pawn. She was a little girl, a little girl who he was doing is best by.

“Diane wanted Mary, to be a kid” Frank’s voice betrayed his desperation and emotion, and he knew that, but now he was past caring, this was the truth, it was how he felt, and he was nothing if not honest. He locked eyes with his mother as he spoke, driving his words home “.She wanted her to have a life. She wanted her to have friends and to play…”

At that his mother looked away, her eyes glistening but Frank kept his on hers as she turned back to him, his final words were almost whispered

“…and to be happy.”

“You realize the consequences of boredom for a gifted child, Mr. Adler? They become resentful and sullen.”

“Mary's not an angry kid.” Frank’s voice was calm once more.

“Really? Did she not attack a child on the school bus?”

Shit.

“A twelve year old tripped a seven year old and she came to his defense.” Frank shrugged slightly

“Did she break the boy's nose?”

“Yes.”

“On October 16th last year, were you arrested for assault?”

“Oh, my God.” Frank groaned, and he looked down before he glanced back up, momentarily locking eyes with Fliss who he noticed had taken a deep breath. He looked back down, shaking his head

“You have to answer the question Mr. Adler.” Judge Nicholls reminded him

Frank swallowed and focussed on a spot on the varnished surface of the wood in front of him, just by the microphone. “A drunk idiot attacked me and I defended myself. What does that have to do…”

“Did you spend the night in jail?” Highsmith cut him off.

“Yeah.” Frank nodded.

“You are in way over your head here. You're depriving that girl…”

Frank stayed still, shaking his head and glaring at his mother, all the while Highsmith continued ranting on at him

“…you're gambling with her future and now you’re being presented with an opportunity to do right by her.”

“Does council have a question for my client?” Cullen asked loudly

“Take the high road, Mr. Adler before she's rapidly damaged.”

“Does council have a question for my client or not?” Cullen repeated, this time standing up.

“Yes, sir. I do have a question.” Highsmith said. “Tell us. Is your continued guardianship really in the best interest of this little girl?”

“You do your best, Frank. And that’s all any of us can do…” Fliss’s voice rattled in his head, and he took a deep breath. No he wasn’t perfect. Yes, Evelyn could provide for her better than he could but could she love Mary like he did. No, no she couldn’t

He stared at his mother, as he lifted his chin and spoke loudly and clearly.

“Yes.Yes, it is.”

“I have no further questions.” Highsmith spoke.

Frank scratched at his head and left the dock.

***** Following the summing up, they were all dismissed. Frank shook Greg’s hand who told him he would be in touch and Frank left the courtroom with Roberta, Fliss nowhere to be seen. He took a deep breath, realising she was probably going to run a mile after hearing about the assault. That wasn’t how he wanted her to find out. However, to his amazement and joy she was waiting for him by his truck. Roberta nodded to him and made an excuse to nip over the road to the store for a water leaving them to talk alone.

“Thought you’d gone?” he said gently.

“No, I had to take a call from Joanne about a lesson. Why would I leave without saying goodbye?” she frowned

“The assault”

Fliss sighed “Okay, I admit it was a shock to hear but…”

“At least let me explain.”

“There’s really no need. You said you were defending yourself and I believe you.”

“He was a drunk idiot.” Frank continued anyway. “I was actually out with a friend, Jacob and his fiancée, Lisa. Jake had gone to the bathroom and this guy bumped into us and sent Lisa flying into the table, knocking a load of glasses over. When I told him to be careful he took a swing at me only he missed and, well I didn’t.”

“You’re a regular knight in shining armour, Sailor.” Fliss smiled before she looked at him softly. “I know that was hard today. I was so angry and the things he was saying to you but it’s done now. Try not to think on it because you can’t change the outcome. Whatever it is, you did your best.”

“You know I remembered you saying that to me.” he smiled, “Right as he was telling me what a lousy life I give Mary.” “It’s not lousy.”  Fliss shook her head. “She’s loved Frank. And she’s happy.”

He smiled again as she took a deep breath.

“Look, I have to go, I have a lesson in an hour now this rain has let up, but what are you doing tomorrow night?”

“Working.” he said, chuckling as she raised her eyebrow. “Yeah I know, second Friday night in a row but, well I’m behind thanks to this case and whilst Roberta has Mary I can get a good few hours in during the night and then get my head down for a few hours before she comes back.”

“How about I keep you company?” Fliss offered. “Only if that’s ok?”

Frank smiled “As long as you don’t distract me too much.” “Wouldn’t dream of it.”

**** The next evening, Frank and Fliss were in the workshop at the Marina, Frank explaining to Fliss the different components of the oil filter he was stripping down. She gave a loud, exaggerated yawn and he nudged her playfully. She grinned at him, and he didn’t miss the flash in her eyes as she looked him quickly up and down, taking in his dirty jeans, hands covered in oil and his long sleeved thin blue sweater which he knew fit him pretty well. Part of the reason he had worn it.

“Hey.” a familiar voice said, and they both looked up to see Cullen as he stood in the entrance.

“Hey.” Frank frowned “What’s…” “I got some news, and I wanted to give it to you in person.”

“I’ll er, give you a moment.” Fliss offered, and she went to leave but Frank caught her elbow gently.

“No, stay, please.”

She looked at him for a second and nodded as Frank turned his attention to Cullen.

“What is it Greg.”

“Highsmith called. They want to cut a deal.”

“What kind of deal?”

Cullen took a breath. “A foster family.”

“No way.” Frank dismissed the notion straight up and Greg continued to try and win him round, informing him that they could cherry pick and that it would be mutually approved and he’d already found a family in Tampa, which was what he had been working on all day.

“She’ll attend the Oaks, you and Evelyn will get visitation right, and then, when she’s twelve, you can go back into court and Mary can decide where, and with who, she wants to live.”

“You’re supposed to be on my team.” Frank cut his friend off, glaring at him “Why are you bringing me this deal?

“Other than I'm required to by law?” Greg looked back at him, and then suddenly Frank understood.

“You like this deal.” he stated and Greg nodded.

“I love this deal.”

“They think they're gonna lose.” Frank leaned on the work-desk in front of him, looking at Cullen.

“Yeah. They do.”

“You think we're gonna lose.”

“Yes.” Greg replied honestly. “I do, Frank.”

Frank looked down, swallowing before he turned to his friend who sighed.

“I gotta go put my kids to bed. I'll do whatever you want me to do. But, if we leave this up to the judge, Nicholls, he's old school, Frank. Does he like your mother? No. Does he like her income? Does he like her health plan? Does he like her home? You better believe it.”

Frank looked down again, shaking his head, unable to do anything else.

“I've been in his courtroom. A hundred times. And if it's a coin toss...Look at me.”

Frank turned to Greg, his arms still leaning on the top, muscles straining as he grasped at a wrench in front of him in frustration.

“If it's a coin toss, that old boy is going to side with the money.” Greg said gently “So, do me a favour, Frank. Just meet the family. See how it feels. It's all I ask.” With that he took a deep breath. “I gotta go, I’ll see you later. Goodnight Fliss.”

“Night.” she replied, watching him leave.

There was a pause before Frank picked up the wrench in his hand and threw it hard against the wall at the opposite side of the garage, before he stood up tall and turned to Fliss who was watching him, her face contorted in sympathy and sadness.

“I don’t know what to do.” He looked at her, and every single emotion he had been holding back cascaded over him in a wave as he felt utterly and hopelessly overwhelmed. He couldn’t stop the tears brimming in his eyes and he bowed his head, once more leaning on the desk. He felt a warm pair of hands gently on his arm, nudging him to turn slightly and he did so to look at Fliss as she wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling him down into a hug. He pressed his face into the crook of her shoulder, his tears falling onto her soft skin as she smoothed a hand through his hair, gently soothing him.

“Sorry.” he mumbled after a moment pulling back.

She placed her hands on his face, wiping his tears with her thumbs, her own filling her eyes. “Don’t ever apologise to me for being upset, Frankie.”

He let out a soft, watery laugh as he dropped his forehead to hers, his eyes closing as he took a deep breath, composing himself.

“You now no one’s called me Frankie since I was a little kid” he smiled.

“Well it suits you.” she pulled away slightly. “You good?” He nodded, moving back out of her arms. “Do you think I should go?” he asked “Meet this family?”

“Frank, I can’t answer that.” “What would you do?”

“I honestly don’t know.” she shook her head. “I suppose there’s no harm in meeting them. But you have to be sure this is what is right for Mary. I do know one thing though, whatever you decide to do, I’ll be there all the way. I told you, I was here for the road trip, no matter how bumpy it gets.”

He nodded, taking a deep breath. He gently took her hand and raised it to his mouth, brushing his lips across her knuckles. “Thankyou.”

**** Chapter 9

[evak-fic-rec-turtleanon]

Evak Fics - Kid Fics

*** Isak and Even have a child together *** They are parents but to different children *** Only one of them is a parent 

***** THEY HAVE A CHILD TOGETHER *****

Nas by OrTheNightEverythingChanged (571 words) - Isak and Even take their daughter to the skatepark. 

Sugar Coat This Love For Me by i_once_wrote_a_dream (1k words) - A little argument over candy during Halloween. 

life with our little prince by glbertblythes (SERIES. 3 Fics) - Isak and Even adopt a little boy with prince curls and blue eyes. 

All in the Eyes of a Boy by MacksDramaticShenanigans (1.3k words) - the first time Isak and Even meet their son. 

all i want for christmas is you by stringsinmelody (1.3k words) - Isak and Even enjoy their first Christmas together with their baby. 

sugar and spice and everything nice by chasingflower (1.6k words) - Eskild and Noora finds Evak’s kid from the future. It’s adorable as heck. 

småfolk by stringsinmelody (SERIES. 5 fics) - a/b/o undertones. 

the room's hush hush and now's our moment by ahana (2.2k words) - A night in the life of Isak and Even, sixteen years later. 

Stjerner Lyser Skinnende by MacksDramaticShenanigans (2.4k words) - Isak and Even attend their daughter’s music concert. She has a surprise for them. 

The Beginning of Believing by MacksDramaticShenanigans (2.5k words) - Their children argue about Santa. 

I'll be there by Wolle19 (SERIES. 3 fics) - All Isak want is for his husband to be home for the holidays. Mpreg. 

I'll give you the brightest sunshine by goldenkisses (3k words) - It was something that they new would always happen, a life being brought into their lives that would make all the gloomy days into something so bright. Adoption. 

everything that happens is from now on. by Skamtrash (6.7k words) - Adoption. At the end so not a lot of the kid is involved here. This is part of a series. The next part, wrap your arms around my heart just like you always do. has more of the kid. 

Isn't He Lovely by MacksDramaticShenanigans (4.4k words) - the first time Evak’s kid meets his uncles. 

don't be wasting your time (on your own) by orphan_account (4.6k words) - Five things Even reminds himself not to forget, and the one thing he does. NOTE: The fic says this is a sequel and the first fic is a must read. But there’s no link so if you know which the main fic is, let me know. P.S. This could go under the different children category but they are already a family here so.. 

The Fools Who Dream by Janey_E (6k words) - A collection of moments from Isak and Even's family life, important and not-so-important. Kids, friends, mornings, evenings, weddings, birthdays, bad days, good days. 

Our Steady True North by verlore_poplap (orphan_account) (9k words) - Five times Isak and Even were amicable; plus one time they just weren't. Co-parenting. Post break-up. 

i ain't no hercules by grinsekaetzchen (12k words) - Post-apocalypse world. This is a sequel. So SPOILERS. They kinda adopt this boy. The first part is if you must live, darling one, just live and it’s amazing. 

my entire world fits perfectly in my arms by theyellowcurtains (12.8k words) - A bunch of cuddle prompts. Not all of these are kid fics. 

(WIP) Everyday Evak: The Realistic Stories of Isak & Even by NeonViolet (14k words) - A realistic looks into Even and Isak's life. It's not always glamorous. 

you told me we were forever by Skamtrash (19k words) - Isak finds out he's having a baby soon after Even breaks up with him so he makes the decision not to tell him. Except Even finds out on his own 3 years later. 

The Fiction of Reality by Midlifecrisis (24k words) - Isak and Even have a daughter, but life is not plain sailing. 

Soup is for the Soul by unfancyandy (26k words) - This is a sequel. So SPOILERS. set 5 years after "Sleep Is For Dreamers," Even and Isak are starting a new adventure. 

Evak Family by orphan_account (SERIES. 7 fics) 80k- Isak is nineteen, Even is twenty-one, and they had a plan. A plan that they've very, very carefully stuck to. Until, that is, Isak gets sick and can't seem to figure out what's wrong with him. Spoiler: he's not sick. Mpreg. 

You Are Everything I Have Never Been by staylucky (78k words) - Isak Valtersen is an unpresented, soon-to-present omega who is convinced his best friend Jonas Vasquez is his alpha mate until he meets a very charming and persuasive new alpha, Tall Stranger aka Even Bech Naesheim, making him question everything. The kid part comes later on in the fic. 

Calm After by desp3ration (270k words) - This is a sequel to Tidal Waves . So SPOILERS. The tags say Evak becoming parents but I have not yet read this and I don't want to fo through it to figure it out because I want to read this later. So if it shouldn't be in here, let me know.  

***** THEY EACH HAVE DIFFERENT CHILDREN *****

shred by tusktooth (22k words) - Has a twist but nor really a twist. I’m just gonna put this in this category.  There were two versions of Isak Valtersen. He was cool, smart snowboarder guy. The real Isak, was also trans, gay, and a father. Keeping the two Isaks separate wasn’t that difficult. At least, not until he saw Even again. 

***** ONLY ONE OF THEM IS A PARENT *****

Even the Illustrator by eavk (SERIES. 3 fics) - An AU where Even’s an illustrator who draws what kids describe to him for YouTube, and Isak is the smitten father of a six year old with a wild imagination. 

a lullaby for you by noirophelia (2.2k words) - Isak has a wonderful little daughter. Even is her wonderful teacher. 

Better With You by iriswests (5.8k words) - Isak and Even don't know what they'd do without the other. Eventually, they realize they don't really need to find out.. Single dad Even. Vet Isak. 

(WIP) carrying our dreams and all that they mean (trying to make it all worthwhile) byodair_goes_my_sanity (8.4k words) - We’ve been hooking up for the past few weeks and holy shit it turned out you’re my kids teacher oh god this embarrassing! 

Universe At Its Finest by Skamtrash (8.6k words) - The universe brings Even into Isaks life, he just didn't know Even came with a full package. A kid fic with 90% pure fluff. 

The Little Flower Named Dahlia by Bellakitse (18k words) - Single!Dad Isak + Preschool teacher Even and the little girl that brings them together. Adorable fic. 

(WIP) Draw a Family by Isakprettykitty (21k words) - Isak, a single parent, takes his 5 year old son to preschool for the first time. Before Isak adopted Magne, his biologic parents weren't treating Magne as they should and some of the scars still haven't healed. Magne's teacher is no other than Even bech næsheim, who makes it his goal to help Magne out with his social anxiety. As time passes, Even and Isak grow closer and the younger one finally learns that it is okay to depend on other people. 

Lovesick by Sabeley (SERIES. 2 fics) - Even is absolutely not making up excuses to take his daughter to see the hot new pediatrician. 5 times Even's daughter wasn't actually sick and 1 time she was. 

take me as i am-universe by argentae (SERIES. 3 fics) - He isn’t crushing, and nevertheless this guy has become a Problem, because whenever he’s on shift he’s made it increasingly difficult for Isak to really spend his time productively. Sure, he could just find another place to study but he likes the access to coffee here even though he actually kind of hates the bitterness of it and he’s just not going to let himself get swept aside because of this guy. Parent!Even. 

We are our Choices by recklesslee (40k words) - Even is informed that one decision he made on a lonely night months ago has led to a new bump in the road. Now Even has another choice to make, and that just might change his life for the better. Doctor!Isak. 

Emmy by NeonViolet (48k words) - Isak is 25 and working in marine biology. Sana is his best friend. He has a 7 year old. And her new school principal looks familiar. Adorable! 

waiting outside ('til you're ready to go) by mellowellom (52k words) - An AU where Isak's daughter is an actual little devil that he can't control for the life of him, and his neighbour Even offers a helping hand. 

we've made it this far, kid by everythingislove (straykid) (SERIES. 2 fics) - Technically, Isak is an uncle. The one where Isak is just trying to raise his nephew as best he can with the help of his best friends. He doesn't expect to fall for Felix's gorgeous football coach along the way. 

(WIP) The Daughter by Laika_the_husband  (10k words) - A sequel. So spoilers. Even’s daughter appear in the previous fics but not as much. Continues from the series, A Dove, a Snake, a Ghost and a Madman. And what an excellent series this is. 

Quitting You by Laika_the_husband (65k words) - A sequel. So spoilers. From the series, Because of You I'm Nothing, I'm Nowhere. Isak Valtersen is a happy stay-at-home dad of his baby girl, taking care of his new home in Belgium. His peaceful life as a domestic god gets turned upside down, when his deeply buried desires are suddenly forced to resurface. It is simple enough to find someone on Grindr, but when that someone is painfully familiar, things can get complicated. Another excellent series. 

I Can Hardly Breathe by Flatfootmonster (82k words) - This fic, man. Isak gets hired to be the nanny? for Even and Sonja’s kids. This fic is just absolutely amazing. 

[jamielea81]

Conversations

Chapter 11

Description: You accompany your friends on a day trip to Animal Kingdom Theme Park where you meet Scott Evans by chance. This one afternoon leads to a year long friendship with both Chris and Scott over text messages and phone calls.

Pairing: Chris Evans x Reader

Warning: Angst. A few curse words. 

Word Count: 6,113 

A/N: I know nothing about the lives of the Evans family and mean no harm. This is purely fiction and for fun. Reblogs and comments are much appreciated! The tag list is now closed. Each chapter tends to get reblogged from me a few times, so if you’re following me, you can’t miss it.  

*Italics are internal thoughts

Catch up with with Chapter 10

**

You weren’t trying to be immature about the situation you found yourself in. No, not at all. Taking a minute or several hours for yourself was normal. You needed to think about this from the point of view of someone who knew what she was doing. Was that you? Absolutely not.

Firing off a text to your brother to tell him you’d call him later, you groaned and then plopped yourself face down in your bed.

Sleep is good. I just need more sleep.

Somehow you managed to doze off for a little more than an hour but with that brought no further clarity.

Food. I need to eat. It’ll help.

After grabbing the cartoon of eggs from your refrigerator, you mindlessly found a bowl and a pan without even having to think about it. Your mind was too busy on something else, well, someone else. It was a good thing you weren’t using knives this morning. Afternoon? What time was it anyway? Not that it mattered.

Once the scrambled eggs were cooked just about to your satisfactory, you added shredded cheese. Lots of it.

Why the hell not?

With your stomach full, you cleaned your dishes, showered, and changed into a pair of cutoffs and a t-shirt. You applied a layer of moisturizer and decided to let your hair dry naturally. Flicking on the switch for the ceiling fan on the lanai, you made your way out there, sitting on the cushioned couch, curling one leg under you.

You needed to talk to Chris and hear him out. He wanted to explain and you were going to let him, although it was pretty obvious that you weren’t the only one he was seeing. You were just the dummy who didn’t know that.

You clicked on his contact and listened to the ring tone go on and on with no answer. You clicked the end call button rather than leaving a message.

Must be busy.

Deciding to get the phone call with your brother over with, you click on his contact. It’s no surprise to you when he answers on the first ring.

“Are you okay?”

“Yes, Heath, I’m fine. It is what it is,” you replied trying to sound as casual as possible.

“I thought you guys were seeing each other.”

You should have kept your mouth shut, but during a long phone call a couple of weeks ago you let it slip that you and Chris had been seeing each other.

“We are, we’re just not exclusive. Apparently,” you added.

“You didn’t know?! Do you want me to kick his ass? I could probably take him.”

You erupt with laughter at his offer. Heath isn’t small, but you’re not so sure he could take on Chris.

“Thank you for the offer,” you said between laughs. “We never had the “what are we?” talk, so it is what it is. Of course, seeing it in print in front of my face isn’t very fun.”

“I’m sorry, Y/N. The offer still stands, you just say the word.”

“I appreciate it. But it looks like he’s trying to call me, so I’m going to take it. I love you and will call you next week.”

“Okay, sis, I’ll talk to you later.”

You take a breath and click the answer button.

“Hi.” It comes out softer than you like.

“Hey, I’m sorry I missed your call. It’s been a day.”

“It’s fine.” You’re not giving him anything you decide.

“So, I wanted to talk to you about some pictures that got posted online from last night.”

“Yeah, I saw them,” you interrupt.

You hear him let out a big puff of air before swearing under his breath.

“Sweetheart, listen to me, it’s not what you think,” he said strongly.

“Chris, it’s fine. We aren’t serious. You’re allowed to see other people,” you said with conviction. The truth was you were crumbling inside. Your fingernails dug into your skin as you tried to keep calm.

“Wait, no. That’s not. Y/N, that’s not what was happening,” he tried to reason.

“I just have to know one thing. Was there really a meeting about a movie or did you really just not want to see me? Maybe better plans came along?”

Well, there went your “I’m strong and you seeing other people is cool” attitude.

“Of course, there was a meeting. I wouldn’t lie to you. Just listen to me, please,” he begged.

“I’m listening.” Your tone was impatient but you honestly were struggling to keep it together.

“I got the part and it starts filming right before Christmas. I called a couple of friends in the city, Scott was there for a bit too, and we all went out to celebrate. Unfortunately, and trust me, I’m regretting it, I drank way too much.”

“You know, it’s funny,” you couldn’t help but interrupt. “You called some friends to celebrate, but you didn’t call me to share the news. I mean, I know you have a lot of friends, but you’ve called me one of your closest friends recently. And we did fuck, but I digress.”

Yep, you have lost it.

“Jesus Y/N. I fucked up, okay? I know I did and I’m sorry. You are one of my closest friends. I knew you were flying home last night and I didn’t want to call you later because I was already plastered. I should’ve sent a text knowing you’d get it when you landed. I’m a dumbass. Ask my mother, she’ll agree.”

You let out a frustrated sigh. He had you on the not calling you when he was drunk thing, but that was beside the point.

“Fine,” you answered.

“Fine, you’re calling my mother?”

“Of course, not,” you said while rolling your eyes. “You are a dumbass. I agree with you on that.”

“And that girl wasn’t anything.”

“Nice of you to appreciate the female species.”

Not that you were a fan of the chick, but “wasn’t anything” was a little harsh.

“That’s not what I mean,” he groaned. “You’re a little frustrating, you know?”

“Me?! Christopher! Maybe we need to have this talk another day,” you snapped.

“No! Please. Please just let me explain. I’m sorry.”

You took a shaky breath. The holding it together was out of the question now as a couple of tears escaped and rolled down your cheeks.

“Explain,” you whispered.

“Baby,” he soothed. “That woman was hanging out with a buddy of mine for most of the night, so she was just with us. At one point she sat on my lap and I didn’t kick her off. I’m an idiot and I was drunk. But nothing happened between us. I swear,” he reassured.

You believed him, but it didn’t matter. Clearly this relationship was going to be too hard to pursue. The distance served you no advantage.

“I believe you,” you said sullenly. “Would you,” you took a breath, and licked at your dry lips. “Would you have told me about her if there weren’t pictures online?”

You weren’t sure if that was a fair question but you wanted to know. He was silent for a long while. You only knew he was still on the line by the sounds of him breathing.

“Probably not,” he replied.

It hurt your heart, fair or not.

“Okay then.”

“Y/N, nothing happened, so I wouldn’t normally tell you. It happens quite a lot, I won’t lie to you about that. Women tend to hang around if they get the chance. Some grab me. It’s not something I want to happen, it just does.”

“It’s fine. I get it. It’s just that I normally don’t date guys that have women throwing themselves at them.” You heard him lightly chuckle. “But, listen.” You took a breath to center yourself again, wiping at the tears quickly. “I don’t think this is going to work out. We’re just better off friends. I think it will be easy to slip back into that again.”

“No. No. No. Listen, sweetheart. I care about you and I want to keep moving forward. Please don’t let this one night get in the way of what we have.”

“It’s more than the one night. This is tough, the distance and not seeing you thing. It’s like we start moving forward but then plans get canceled and we are stuck where we were. You just said you’re going to start filming before Christmas and I’m sure you have other responsibilities before then.”

“I don’t want this. What about what I want?” he asked. “I’m not ready to give us up. Please, let me prove it to you,” he asked.

“Chris, I need time. You’re still my friend, but I need time,” you said softly.

“Okay,” he sighed. “But I’m still going to call you. And text you. I’ll give you time, but I still need you in my life, Y/N.”

“I need you too.” You took another breath. “I’m going to let you go though. Laundry awaits and all that.”

“Okay, sweetheart. I’ll call you later.”

“How about in a few days?” you asked.

“A few days?” he sighed.

“Yeah, I just. I just need some time for me.”

“I understand, anything you need sweetheart.”

“Bye Chris.”

Ending the call, you went back into your house to cry. No use in having your neighbors hear you bawling your eyes out. Back to your bed you went. Good thinking about not wearing makeup today, it would have been ruined.

You were relieved that he didn’t hookup with the girl from the picture, but it still hurt how easily he accepted her on his lap. Wasn’t like she was a friend of his and he was just being nice. You also didn’t like how low his hand was on her body. Yes, he wasn’t officially yours, but you felt something for him and you know he feels the same about you.

I’m making the right decision.

Life was easier when Chris Evans was no more than your friend. Easier, but it wasn’t better.

**

You spent Sunday cleaning your house, painting your nails, giving yourself a facial, and digging out clothes from the back of your closet that you hadn’t worn in sometime. It was me day to the fullest, right down to the medium pizza you consumed between lunch and dinner.

It wasn’t any later than six at night when your doorbell rang. People rarely stopped by unannounced, so it was a tad odd. When it rang for a second time, you got up from your comfy spot on the couch to unlock the door. Whoever rang was no longer there, but sitting on your stoop was a box of what appeared to be flowers. Bringing the box into the house, you set it on your kitchen island, grabbed the scissors from the drawer. Inside was a beautiful bouquet of yellow tulips. You pulled a clear glass vase from the cupboard above the stove and filled it with water. Arranging the flowers in the vase, you couldn’t help the smile on your lips. You left the flowers on the island as they matched some of the yellow you had in there and you could still see them from your living room. Reaching back into the box, you pulled out the small white envelope, removing the tiny card from it.

I’m not giving up on us.

-        Chris

Back in November, you had mentioned to Chris that your mom always had tulips planted along the walkway up to the house and that they were always your favorite. The trouble was you only visited in winter most years, so you never got to see them anymore. It was a conversation you had regarding Christmas and how you were visiting home. It was such a minor thing to mention in the grand scheme of things of your relationship, but he remembered. For all the flowers Ethan brought you, never once did he ask what your favorite kind was. It’s not that important, but Chris remembering pulled at your heart a bit.

You went back to your spot on your couch, pulling the gray colored throw around your bare legs. The news was on, but you weren’t really paying attention, it was essentially background noise at this point. The thought of thanking Chris for the flowers crossed your mind. It’s the polite thing to do, but you wanted to stick to the me time that you told him you wanted. It had only been a day. Yeah, you were going to wait.

World News Tonight with David Muir started and you were one hundred percent paying attention now. David Muir was your celebrity crush, well, besides he who shall not be named. David was not only handsome, but he was intelligent, seemed sweet, and overall a good person. Landing an interview with him would be a dream come true. In general, you were a news junkie through and through, even if David wasn’t the anchor.

Despite not leaving the house all day, you were tired and decided to go bed early. Well, early for you since it was only ten o’clock. With an old episode of Friends playing on your TV, you dozed off only to be awakened by your cell phone ringing. You hoped it was Scott but worried it was Chris. Hitting the mute button on your remote, you grabbed your phone seeing a goofy selfie of Scott on your screen.

“I was trying to sleep,” you answered.

“This early? Are you ill? Zach’s a doctor, want me to put him on the line?”

“No, he’s not.”

“Yeah, you’re right. But he does watch a lot of doctor dramas,” he replied.

“Funny,” you responded sarcastically. You hadn’t called Scott at all since your phone call with Chris. There was no need to drag him into whatever the hell was going on between you and his brother. It wasn’t right and you would never put him in that position. “So, what’s up?” you asked.

“My brother is a dumbass,” he said flatly.

Guess he’s putting himself in this situation.

“Look, I’m not disagreeing with you, but do you really want to talk about this? I thought you once told me you weren’t going to get involved when it came to him and I.”

“When it’s slapped in my face by pictures getting posted online, it becomes my problem too. Plus, I was there that night, not the whole night, but I was there when it began. All I’m going to say about it is he’s a dumbass and I am sorry. While women do tend to hang on him, he should have been in control enough to ask her to vacate his lap.” You giggled at his use of vacate. “And least not forget you guys are together and you don’t do that kind of thing when you have a partner.”

“Well, I wouldn’t go that far. We weren’t together. There was never talk of anything being official. But everything else I agree with,” you said.

“Hold up. You two were very much together. I’m sorry, but my brother does not call a girl daily if they aren’t in a relationship.”

“Scott,” you sighed. “I don’t want to get into this. It doesn’t matter anymore. The distance thing is just too complicated. I’m not in the industry. I’m not from New England. I don’t fit. Friendship is enough.”

“Do you really believe that? I’ll drop it, I swear, but is that really what you want?”

You didn’t know what you really wanted anymore. Okay, that’s a lie. You want it to be easy. You cleared your throat causing Scott to chuckle.

“And just so you know, I told him he’s getting a kick to the ass. If not by me, by my mother.”

“Your mom knows?!”

“Ma knows everything and she’s not happy. I’m pretty sure her words were “I can’t believe he was stupid enough to do that to Sassy” or something similar.”

“Oh boy,” you replied.

“But none of that matters, I really called for another reason. You’re going to meet Zach!”

“What? Really? Don’t tease me,” you exclaimed.

“I’m serious. He’s real and you’re meeting him this weekend. We are flying out Friday. We’re getting a rental, so you don’t need to pick us up, but we’re staying with you. Surprise!”

“Scott,” you sighed. “You don’t need to come out here to make me feel better.”

“Who said it’s to make you feel better. We have a free weekend and Zach wants to go to Magic Kingdom. You’re just a place to stay,” he stated.

“You’re an asshole,” you chuckled.

“You love me.”

“I do,” you groaned. “What time will I see you Friday?”

“I know you work, so we’ll come by after five. We’re treating you to dinner since you’re hosting us.”

“Love that you come up with all these plans without consulting me,” you chuckled.

“And Saturday we’re all going to the park.”

“You do realize it’s still one hundred degrees out, right?”

“We’ll take breaks. It’s fine,” he replied.

He was lucky you loved him, or was it the other way around? You weren’t quite so sure anymore.

“Okay, fine. I’ll do it for Zach. But I’m going to bed, so leave me be.”

“Night Sassy.”

“Night Grumpy.”

You unmuted the TV, set your phone down on the night stand only to pick it right back up.

Before you could change your mind, you sent a text to Chris.

Y/N: Thank you for the beautiful tulips. Have a great Monday.

It was simple enough and it let him know you weren’t planning on calling him tomorrow.

Chris: I meant what I said in the card. Have a good day at work sweetheart.

**

You scheduled a last-minute dinner with Jana and Brooks late Monday night. It’s not that you felt the need to talk about your relationship with Chris, you just didn’t want either of them to eventually see the pictures or have Scott spill the beans to Brooks. And if your going to break down in public, who better to break down in front of than your friends.

You were honestly fine up until the point Jana frowned and reached across the table to grasp your hand. That’s when the waterworks happened. Most of it was due to embarrassment.

“I just feel so silly thinking that this would have worked out,” you said between tears. “I know I played it cool to you guys, but a really big part of me thought maybe, just maybe it could have been real.”

Like yourself, Jana was an empathetic crier when it came to the ones she loved. Tears breached her eyes as she attempted to blink them away, whiled she held your hand in hers.

“Why can’t it be really?” Brooks asked.

The two of you shot Brooks a dumbfounded look. Instantly he lifted his hands in surrender.

“All I’m saying is this doesn’t mean it can’t eventually work out. Maybe it’s just not the right time. But who’s to say a month from now or six months from now the two of you won’t align,” he said.

“Who are you and what have you done with my husband?” Jana asked with a shocked expression on her face.

You gave him a watery smile. It was a nice thought to think of, but you weren’t so sure.

**

By Wednesday, you were missing your daily calls with Chris. Over the last month he had called or Facetimed you every day. Even the days that got away from him, he would call you just to say goodnight. Technically, the three days you had asked for had passed, so you could call him. It was such a strange feeling to be nervous to talk to the person you felt close to, but that’s exactly how you felt.

I’ll just text him. Yep, texting is safe.

Snuggled up in bed, you chewed on your lip and contemplated what to text.

“Hey Chris, how’s it going?”

Nope.

“Had any ladies on your lap lately?”

Definitely not.

“Do you miss me?”

You couldn’t go there.

You sat up, criss crossing your legs.

Y/N: How are you?

Turning on Nextflix, you queued up Friends, continuing where you left off. The episode where Ross dressed up as the Holiday Armadillo always made you laugh. Unfortunately, nothing could distract you from starring at your phone. You weren’t left in your misery for long as Chris responded only a few minutes later.

Chris: Hi Sweetheart. I’m so glad you texted me.

Chris: I’m doing okay, but I’m really missing you.

Fuuuuuuccccckkkk.

“You are going to stay strong. Chris is your friend. Friends miss each other, right? You miss Scott. You use to miss Chris when you were nothing more than friends.”

Y/N: I miss talking to you.

Chris: Do you want to call me?

Of course, you did. But you just couldn’t, at least not yet.

Y/N: Tomorrow?

You didn’t think you could do it tonight. Putting it off until tomorrow felt safer.

Chris: That sounds good. 9 work for you?

Y/N: Yeah, that’s fine. I’m going to watch some Friends and then crash.

Chris: Night sweetheart

Y/N: Night babe.

Tomorrow would be hard, but eventually it would feel like normal or at least you hoped it would.

**

It’s funny how tomorrow comes a lot sooner than it seems. It never comes quick when you’re really looking forward to something. No, those are the days that drag on forever. But the days that your worried or anxious, those show up in a blink of an eye.

It was nine and you weren’t sure if you were supposed to call him or if he was supposed to call you. You should have clarified. So now you stare blankly at your phone with a cold beer in your other hand. Yes, you had to work tomorrow, but what’s one beer, especially if it helped?

Hitting the home button on your phone again, it was now nine eighteen.

I should just call him.

With your finger hovering over his contact, the phone rang in your hand. Unlike Scott, you didn’t have a picture of Chris. You were too worried that you’d forget your phone somewhere one day and someone find it, they would have Chris’ number. Maybe a far-fetched concern, but it did cross your mind.

“Hello?”

“Hi,” he sighed. “I wasn’t sure who was calling who.”

You chuckled lightly. “I actually had the same thought.”

“What are you up to?”

“Just hanging on the lanai. Not so bad out at night,” you said.

“Still pretty hot?”

“Oh yeah. Need to wait until December for it to cool down.”

This was awkward. You felt like you were really trying to make a conversation happen.

“Why does this seem so hard?” you asked honestly.

Chris lightly chuckled and took a deep breath. “Cause this isn’t us and it’s my fault. I’m sorry.”

“Chris, it’s fine. It might just take sometime for us to get back to the way were. I’m willing to try if you are.”

“You mean, try to make us work?”

It was your turn to sigh.

“We already talked about that. I just don’t think it’s going to work, Chris,” you replied.

“That’s negotiable,” he said. Before you could disagree, he spoke again. “But I’m willing to table it for now.”

“You’re so stubborn,” you said.

“You are.”

You shook your head.

“Did you know your brother invited himself to stay at my place?”

“That sounds like Scott. He did mention it.”

“Yeah…”

Damn this is hard.

“It should be fun. But, um, I’m actually going to finish cleaning so I’ll talk to you later,” you said.

“Oh! Okay. Um, can I call you tomorrow?”

“Well, Scott will be here and I just kind of want to concentrate on that. Next week?” It was very noncommittal, but you were being honest about wanting to just hangout with Scott and Zach.

“Ye-Yeah. Whatever works. I’ll talk to you later sweetheart.”

“Okay. Goodnight Chris.”

It would get easier.

**

You were rushing having left work a little later than you would have liked. Scott had sent you a text at quarter to five saying they were on their way to your house having already stopped at the liquor store because he still didn’t trust your wine selection.

Sigh.

The plan was to be home and have time to freshen up before they got there. At this rate, they may actually beat you to your house.

An unknown SUV pulled into your driveway just as your turned down your street.

Damnit.

Pulling up along side the gray 4x4, you parked and quickly hopped out of your car, running around to the driver’s side. Scott quickly got out of the car, closing the door behind him.

“You’re here!” you cheered, rushing into his arms.

“I’m here! I mean, we’re here!” he corrected, pulling away as Zach walked up to the two of you.

“Sassy, this is Zach. Zach this is my Sassy,” he stated.

You extended your hand to shake his, but he quickly brushed it away, wrapping his arms around you instead.

“No, ma’am. We’re huggers,” Zach said as you hugged him back, not stopping the giggle that escaped your lips when he hugged you tighter.

“Well it’s nice to meet you,” you said when he let go of you. “Hate to say it, but I think Zach gives better hugs.”

Scott rolled his eyes, moving to the rear of the vehicle and pulling out two small rolling suitcases. “I won’t argue with that.”

“Alright, so you two are in my room this weekend,” you said, unlocking your front door.

“I’m sorry, what? We can’t take your room Y/N,” Scott said.

“Well, my second room only has a twin-size mattress since I have that monster of a desk in there and it doesn’t make sense to have one of you on the couch and one in the spare room. I just changed all the bedding this morning so it’s all made up for you both.” Scott gave you pouty lips but you just shook your head. “I insist.”

“Thank you, Y/N, that’s very kind of you,” Zach said.

Scott grabbed Zach’s hand, dragging him into your bedroom to drop their bags.

**

After dinner that Scott did indeed treat you to, the three of you spread out in your living room. The boys lazily lounged on the couch while your legs hung over the side of the cushioned arm chair. The glass of red in your hand was doing nothing to help energize you.

“What time are we going tomorrow?” you asked.

“Mind if we leave here by nine?” Scott asked.

“That works. Do you have a plan to concur tomorrow?”

“All three mountains?” Zach suggested.

“Doable since we Fastpassed two of them,” you agreed.

“Soooo,” Scott started. “I’m not trying to kill our food coma, but are you really okay?”

Damnit.

You’re not sure how you thought you’d escape talking about Chris with his brother sitting in your living room.

You shrugged your shoulders and took a long drink from your glass to delay the conversation a little further. “I’m okay. It wasn’t great to have our plans change last weekend. And then to see those photos of him out, drunk, and some woman hanging on him also didn’t make me feel great. But I can’t even be mad about that because we weren’t exclusive.” Scott opened his mouth to speak, but you cut him off. “And before you jump in, Chris and I never discussed what exactly we were.”

“Fine. Fine,” Scott said causing Zach to push on his shoulder. “I just don’t understand why your going back to just being friends.”

You gulped down the rest of your wine while sliding your feet back on the floor. “Anybody else?” you asked, pointing at your empty glass. Zach held his up and you nodded. Scott did the same waving his free hand around annoyed with your lack of an answer.

“All I’m saying is that dating anybody in the industry can be difficult. Shit happens and it isn’t fun a lot of the time. But if you care about someone and you feel like it could go the long haul, sometimes the heartache is worth it in the end. I’ll leave it at that.”

You walked back in the room, filling Zach’s glass, then Scott’s. Setting the empty bottle on the coffee table, you dropped one knee on the couch and wrapped your arms around Scott. “Thank you,” you mumbled against his head.

He returned the hug before blowing out a big puff of air. You pulled back and gave him a questioning look. “Your hair was sticking to my face. And you’re welcome.”

**

The three of you ran around the park like kids Saturday morning. You lingered in gift shops to soak up the cool air before running back out into the sauna. Dole Whip and ice cream ended up being lunch because the three of you were too hot to eat an actual meal.

On your way out, Scott made a pit stop in a shop on Main Street.

“Go next door. I’m buying you a surprise and I don’t want you to see it until I have it.” Scott said, shooing you away.

You pouted like a child but moved on to the next section of the store to look at pins. The bulletin board in your office was nearly full, but you hadn’t bought a new one in quite a while.

Twenty minutes later, Scott and Zach found you, all three of you with bags in hand.

“Let’s go outside,” Scott said.

“Then, I’ll see my gift?” you perked up.

“Of course, but only if you’re good,” he chuckled.

Once outside the shop, the three of you stood on the sidewalk, against the window to be out of the way of passing crowds. Scott reached in the bag and pulled out the classic Mickey Mouse Club ears and plopped them on his head. He pulled another pair out and handed them to you. You smiled politely at the gift, but thought it was a little odd.

“Thank you, Scott. I have a bunch of the ear headbands, but didn’t have the original hat.”

“Turn it around silly,” he stated blankly, tilting his head to the side.

You turned the hat so that the back was facing you. Scrolled across the back in pink stitched lettering was the name Sassy. Your face split into a huge grin as you rushed him, throwing your arms around his neck with the hat and bag dangling in your hand.

“This is perfect. I love it so much!”

“You haven’t seen the best part,” Scott mumbled into your hair.

Letting your arms fall away you waited for him to continue. Scott turned around showing you the back of his hat. Scrolled across in gold stitch was the name Grumpy.

“Oh, my goodness!” you squealed, Zach laughing at your reaction.

“It’s perfect, right?” Zach asked.

“So perfect.”

“Alright, let’s get a picture of you two,” Zach said, walking out into the middle of Main Street dodging strollers and other adults.

You and Scott followed him, finding a spot facing the castle in the distance. You posed with your arm going around his back and him doing the same to you. Bright smiles on both of your faces. Then the two of you turned around so that your nicknames were on display for the camera. You took a few pictures of Zach and Scott before the three of you headed out of the park. Scott posting the picture of the back of your hats on Instagram as soon as you got to the car.

**

It was late afternoon and the three of you were lounging in your pool. Zach and you were laying on two floaties while Scott sat on the edge of the pool with his legs in the water. He had been on his phone for the better part of an hour. His face looked a little peeved and if you had to guess, he was angry texting.

Lizzo’s Good as Hell started on your portable speakers, you instantly clapping your hands. “Turn it up, please,” you hollered to Scott, since your phone was lying right next to him.

He did as requested and went right back to his phone, typing at a feverish pace before sighing dramatically and setting his phone next to yours.

“Woo child, tired of the bullshit. Go on dust your shoulders off, keep it moving. Yes Lord, tryna get some new shit. In there, swimwear, going to the pool shit,” you and Zach sang.

“You know what we need? Shots. Be right back,” Scott said abruptly, pulling his legs from the pool and going into the house.

You looked to Zach who shrugged his shoulders and gave you a smile.

“I do my hair toss, check my nails. Baby how you feelin'? Feeling good as hell. Hair toss, check my nails. Baby how you feelin'? Feeling good as hell,” you sang.

**

Both you and Zach were well past tipsy since Scott began feeding you shots four hours ago. In between that time, you had ordered a couple of pizzas and breadsticks which helped soak up some of the alcohol, but carbs could only do so much with all that liquor running through your body.

“Boston! When are you coming?” Scott asked.

“Um, October?” you asked.

“Yes!” Zach said.

“I want to do all the touristy stuff, so you need to tell me where to stay. I don’t know the area, obviously,” you replied.

“Um, no way. You are staying with me. I want you to plus my ma would kill me if I had you staying at a hotel.” Scott shouted a little too loudly.

“Plus, we kind of invited ourselves here this weekend. We’d love to host you.” Zach added.

You nodded your head in agreement. “But will you play tourist with me? I want to see everything. Cheers! We have to go to the Cheers bar!”

They both chuckled at your enthusiasm. “We’ll go to Cheers.” Zach agreed.

Before you could make any other plans, your doorbell rang.

“Did we order more food?” you asked the boys. They both shook their heads while Scott hopped to his feet. “We should order more food,” your drunken head stated.

The doorbell rang again reminding you that someone was there waiting for you to answer. You started to walk to the door, Scott hot on your trail.

“I had nothing to do with this and I’m sorry,” Scott spit out.

You gave him a questioning look as you turned the knob on the door.

On the other side stood Chris with a large duffle hanging around his shoulder and a small smile on his face. You turned back to Scott who looked pissed, starring down his brother. You turned back to Chris who dropped his eyes back to you.

“Chris,” you whispered out. “What are you doing here?”

“I’m your pool boy,” he chuckled. “I wanted to see you.”

You stood there with your mouth hanging open.

“Can I come in?” he asked.

“Uh, sure,” you said, opening the door wider for him to pass.

Chris stepped in, walking toward the living room, getting a small shove from Scott as he passed.

“Hey, Zach,” Chris shouted.

“What the fuck?” you asked, still standing at the door.

“I told him not to come. I’m sorry. I kind of hoped he wouldn’t actually go through with it. He sent me a text after he was already at the airport. I swear I didn’t know,” Scott said.

“No,” you shook your head. “No, it’s fine. I’m just going to need more alcohol.”

“On it,” Scott said, walking toward your kitchen.

“You can do this. Chris is your friend…who you just happened to have sex with. Twice. No big deal,” you said to yourself.

Walking into the kitchen, Scott passed you the shot glass which you quickly downed, him doing the same with his own. You held up a finger, silently asking for another which he quickly poured. You downed that one just as quick. Scott put an arm around your shoulder, pulling you close.

“You gonna be okay?” he asked.

“I hope so,” you replied.

The two of you walked into the living room, Zach and Chris were in the midst of a conversation, stopping only to look at the two of you.

“Have fun sleeping on the couch,” Scott chucked.

Chris’ mouth dropped open, looking from Scott then to you.

“Sorry,” you said with a shrug.

**

Chapter 12

Tag List: @tanelle83 @pinknerdpanda @allaboutthebooz @estillion14 @panicfob @patzammit @heartislubbingdubbing @collinsstanharbour @twittytelly @linki-locks11 @mywinterwolf @ab-baybay @rda1989 @impalaimages @jesseswartzwelder @rainbowkisses31 @xostephanie @smoothdogsgirl @mrsambroserollinsacklesmgk @xxloki81xx @thenormreedus @firstangeldragonranch @soitmightgetweird @maeleeme @denisemarieangelina @rvgrsbrns @icanfeelastormbrewing @velvetwonderbucky @kitkat1690 @smilexcaptainx​ @suppu97​ @mustangshelby04​ @bellaireland1981​ @carolina-thiell​ @straightforwardly​ @torntaltos​ @denise1605​ @mcuclintasha​ @southerngracela​ @iam-cj​ @trynnabemultifandom​ @chrisevansforever​ @kelbabyblue​ @broadwayandnetflix​ @kyjey​ @thevelvetseries​ @i-just-feel-like​ @daddieslittlefangirl​ @hista-girl​ @stankface​ @im-not-an-armrest-im-short​ @whymalu​ @the-doctors-fallen-angel​ @mariswritingforfun​ @tessabb7​ @chrisevansfanfic​ @lakamaa12​ @thinkxlovexloud​ @deidrashouseofpain​ @nea90sweetie​ @the-murder-strut-murdered-me​ @greyeyedsmile14​ @dangerouslovefanfic​ @ripvandrinkle​ @bitterstar88​ @andymi3ntus​ @zestygingergirl​ @xstudiousslytherinx @hidden-behind-the-fourth-wall​ @cocomel0613​ @onceuponathreetwoone​ @supraveng​ @michelehansel​ @fanfictionaffair​ @genesgoingtohamslam​ @agirlcanstilldream @what-is-your-plan-today​ @jessyballet​ @capstopavenger​ @wiczer​ @titty-teetee​

[fieryfantasybooklover]

Cast In Shadow And Blood - A Clace fanfic

Consider this a sign that I am, in fact, alive.

Taggs: @lily-chen-deserves-better @blackthorn-trash @mithriel-of-mithlond @brotherhalal-ariahs @julieandthefandoms @themostawesomehuman @zfoxdraws @hands-dripping-ink @insane---chaos @rainbow-sheepofthefamily @girlwhohatesstuff @tessagraycarstairs @imherongraystairstrash

Note - Clary and Jace are the main characters here, the others are just mentioned.

---------------------------------------------------

Clary settled down into bed, sparing only one glance for the descending curtain of night that was chasing away the sun. Snow fell softly outside, silencing the world in a blanket of white. She turned to Jace, who had settled into bed beside her a moment before. “Good to see you here.” she said, grinning. “I was thinking you’d somehow managed to murder yourself using kitchen utensils, but thankfully you do seem to still be alive.” Jace grinned, handing her the bowl of snacks he’d gathered on his snack run. “You know me. I love to keep people guessing. You would know that most of all.” he said, chuckling. Clary, laughing, punched him playfully in the shoulder before leaning back onto the pillows. Jace grabbed the remote, settling in beside her. “Are you sure you’re ready for this?” Clary asked Jace, in that way where nobody could be sure if she was being serious. “I survived a literal hell dimension, I think I’ll be ok with some horror movies.” Jace replied, turning on the TV they had installed in front of their bed.

The next few hours speed by in a rush of buttery popcorn and melted chocolate and a myriad of scary movies. Some featured the paranormal or supernatural, others much more real fears like insanity and serial killers. By the time the clock struck 2 pm, they had watched enough scary movies for a lifetime and, though neither would admit it, were feeling quite on edge and jumpy. As the credits rolled for The Ring, Jace turned to Clary and exhaled deeply, letting all his nerves out. “Wow.” they said simultaneously, laughing in pure relief everything was right in the world. “I’m gonna go put everything away.” said Jace, standing, stretching, and grabbing the empty bowls. “Alright you do that. I’ll get everything ready for bed.” Clary replied, already flicking off the television and pulling the blinds shut. Jace returned within a few minutes, hands empty and tiredness gathering behind his eyes. It wasn’t long before both were settled under the covers with the lights off, facing each other and breathing evenly. “I love you, dork.” Clary said affectionately to Jace, kissing him. “I love you too.” he replied, hugging her close.

They fell asleep like that, happy and together and content that everything they had just seen was firmly within the realm of fiction.

Clary’s eyes fluttered open, making their way to the alarm clock. It read 3:05 am. Groaning, Clary slid out of bed and stood, making her way to the bathroom in the complete and utter black. It took her only a few moments to gather her surroundings and realize that something was very very wrong. What she saw gazing out the window was her first clue. There was absolutely no sign of life outside the Institute. No cars, or shop windows, or even a few people staggering their way home late. The snow was still steadily falling, blanketing every single surface. The pitch blackness of this time of morning covered the landscape, twisting and contorting it into something completely unrecognizable. By light, Clary could have navigated those streets with her eyes closed. But by dark, all her pleasant memories of the spot were gone and nothing could be seen or gleaned from the area. Put simply, the darkness hid things. And this darkness in particular seemed… dangerous. Parasitic. Permeated only by the faint glow of street lamps. And that light was certainly not enough to reveal anything the darkness could have been concealing.

The second clue that something was wrong was the silence. Outside the Institute and inside. Outside, the snow was silent as the grave and there were no night sounds. No animals, sounds of farawar life, or even the crackling of electric lighting. Inside, it was just as quiet. None of the sounds that were usually associated with a building so huge and old. The floorboards didn’t creak, no faint sounds echoed through the halls. The silence was eerie, and more than a little unnerving. By now, Clary had reached the bathroom and was quietly using the restroom and washing her hands. The splash of the water seemed deafening compared to the lack of sound. Darting out of the room and back to their bedroom, Clary realized the final factor in why everything felt so wrong.

The air. It was strangely... heavy. Somehow forceful, as if something was compressing it down. The air slunk around the halls, and Clary could not shake the feeling that not only was it weighing on her, but something was watching her. Trying to shake the feeling of unease, Clary slid back into bed beside Jace, closed her eyes, and tried to sleep. This attempt did not last long, and soon Clary popped her eyes open again. She quickly looked at Jace. He was still sound asleep. She sighed, flopping backward. “What I wouldn’t give to just be able to fall asleep and stay that way.” Clary thought, exasperated. It was just then that something shattered downstairs in the Institute. Clary sat bolt upright, eyes wide and heart pounding. Fear ran through every inch of Clary’s body. Pure, bone chilling fear that made her feel like she was disintegrating. Shook to her bones, Clary wrapped her arms around herself and tried to calm her shivering. “You’re just being irrational.” She told herself. “Maybe I left a window open and the wind knocked something over.” she rationalized, still shaking from head to toe. If the wind was the cause, you would’ve heard it from outside, a voice at the back of Clary’s mind whispered.

A chill descended on her then. Something so cold and gripping that it was like one thousand icy wolves howling to the wind before ripping you to shreds. Clary felt an icicle slip down her back and she launched to her feet, unsure of what to do. She felt her lips turning blue and her skin paling under the duress of the chill. Something thin and skeletal whipped through the room then, cloaked in a raggedy, torn robe. The terrifying sight of it burned itself into Clary’s eyelids. It was so quick and quiet that she could have convinced herself she was imaging it, except for the fact that the blinds were now thrown open and the window was cracked. Neither had been that way a split second before. Clary turned to Jace, shaking his shoulder and hissing his name repeatedly. “Jace! Come on Jace, wake up! I think there’s something here!” but he wouldn’t wake, and it seemed he was permanently stuck to the bed, Atleast, until he shifted and his neck snapped at an angle no human could survive. His face shifted to face hers. And that was when Clary screamed.

There was a painfully large grin on Jace’s face. His lips were stretched back from his teeth, and his face seemed to glow with an unholy light. He was unusually pale, as if all the color had been soaked from him. His eyes shone far too bright with something close to madness. All Clary knew for sure in that moment was that whatever was in front of her was not her Jace. Beyond that, she didn’t know. It must have read the question on her face, because it opened its mouth and hissed out something that was infinitely not human. Clary frantically searched her index of language knowledge for a translation, but found nothing. “See you soon.” it whispered, smile stretching wider. “You have summoned me with visages of horror, and now you must pay the price.” Jace’s body collapsed onto the bed. Within moments he was stirring, and Clary was frantically at his side. “Jace? Jace! Are you ok? How do you feel?” Jace pulled himself upright, rubbing his eyes and looking around confusedly. “What’s happening?” he asked, voice still thick with sleep. “Please just trust me. We have to go now .” Clary whispered, pulling Jace to his feet. He read the frantic nature of her voice and instantly snapped to alert.

The pair began running out the bedroom and down the hall. Jace knew little of the situation, but still flew through his brain for allies to call for help. “Simon and Isabelle? No, they’re on vacation in the countryside. Magnus and Alec? Fuck, they’re investigating a situation in Cincinatti there’s no way they’ll make it back on time.” as his list of allies ran dry, fear began to sink its claws into Jace. They were still running down the halls of the Institute, desperately trying to make their way to the doors. However, one blink of time and it was all over. Screams of anguish rang in both Jace and Clary’s ears, reaching a pitch so high both bent over in pain. There were brief flashes of blood, painting the floor, walls, and ceiling red. The entire building began to shake, as if something was gnawing away at the foundations. Wraithlike forms began to appear, empty eye sockets somehow still managing to glimmer with malice. Jace and Clary were desperate now, dodging the foes while still scrambling for the door. Then, one popped into existence right in front of them. They skidded to a halt, trying to turn around but it was too late.

The being reached one of its hands right through Clary’s heart and the other hand right through Jace’s. Suddenly, they were back in their bedroom, standing beside the bed. The room was cast in shadow and blood, faint rays of light revealing the room to be a horrible parody of its former self. Both Jace and Clary tried to move, but found instantly they were frozen and rendered completely immobile. They barely had time to exchange one glance that said so much before the specter appeared before them, reaching into their hearts again. And then, it twisted. Pain. Pain that made every past grievance seem like a paper cut in comparison. Blinding white pain, like a thousand explosions in one form. The pain of bones cracking and twisting and shattering into five million glass sharp shards. The pain of loneliness, of longing so deeply for someone to be by your side that you turned into a ghost yourself. The pain of helplessness, of being unable to move or cry out or scream or do anything as your death approached. So many shades of pain, twisted neatly up and forced right down into Jace and Clary’s souls.

The terrible finality hit them then. They were going to die. And nobody could save them. Eeking out a few moments of clarity, Jace and Clary turned their gazes to the other. “I love you.” the gazes said. “I love you, and I will love you from now until the moment time ends.”

And then, everything faded to silent, deep, nothingness.

Clary sat up in bed, sweat beading down her neck and terror whining in her head. Jace was safe asleep beside her, breathing softly and calmly. The alarm clock, the sole source of light in the room, read 3:03.

A scream built its way through Clary’s mind and body, working its way slowly up through her throat.

A voice slithered into her head, ominous and inescapable.

I am coming

[recentanimenews]

OPINION: My Favorite Anime of 2020 Are All Music Videos

Image via ZUTOMAYO

  Despite the enormous pressures of COVID-19, 2020 has had its share of anime classics. Keep Your Hands Off Eizouken! is a stone-cold classic to the degree it now feels as if it’s always existed. Decadence channeled the creative spirit of 2000s-era Madhouse into an off-kilter riff on dystopian science fiction and Pixar movies. Akudama Drive, now in its second half, continues to translate the bonkers, heartfelt pulp style of Danganronpa creator Kazutaka Kodaka to TV anime. There have been big successes in film, as well — Demon Slayer Mugen Train scored the highest opening weekend box office in Japanese history, while folks I follow on Twitter are excited for the new Bones film Josee, the Tiger and the Fish.

  One of my favorite anime projects this year was something completely different. It’s "Gotcha!," a short Pokemon-themed music video directed by Rie Matsumoto and her friends at Bones. A sequence that takes all of Matsumoto’s strengths — her attention to detail, the way she depicts exciting and supernatural things bursting out of the walls of our ordinary world, and her obsession with cramming every layer of the screen with stuff — and turns them with the precision of a laser toward celebrating the series’s near 25-year history. As encyclopedic as a Pokedex despite being only three minutes long, it’s a glorious celebration of a series loved and made by passionate fans. 

  Image via Pokemon Official YouTube Channel

  But "Gotcha!" wasn’t even the only fantastic music video made by former employees from the historic studio Toei. Earlier this year, animator Koudai Watanabe collaborated with the talented Naoki Yoshibe — director of the opening sequences for Gatchaman Crowds — to create a music video for ZUTOMAYO titled “STUDY ME.” It’s a rich purple-and-green media landscape of TV screens, glitches, Undertale references, and desperately reaching hands, packed with enough wild ideas and visual iconography to fuel an entire season of anime. But it wraps up in just under five minutes.  You’re left watching the video over and over again in a daze, trying in vain to catch every little detail.

  The animated music videos being made right now represent the most slept-on creative success in modern anime production among English language fans. (That’s music videos that are animated, not AMVs! You could write an entirely separate article on those.) I need to qualify “slept on,” since hardcore animation nerds like Yuyucow and Catsuka have been stumping for these works over the past several years. There are viral successes like "Gotcha!" and the inevitable crossover that happens when an artist doing the theme song for an anime leads others to check out their back catalog of past videos. But on websites and in magazines, I see stories about Netflix’s aggressive production of new TV series, the renaissance of Japanese anime films after Your Name, and bemused reactions to the shocking popularity of Demon Slayer: Kimetsu no Yaiba. Talk about the newest music videos online is a lot rarer. Not to mention older videos. "Gotcha!" may have broken out as a celebration of a popular game series, but its predecessor — a Lotte chocolate commercial produced by much of the same staff — is just as good!

  Image via ZUTOMAYO

  "Gotcha!" isn’t 2020’s only spiritual successor to excellent early work, either. In 2013, Yoko Kuno produced the video "Airy Me" as part of a graduate assignment. Set to a song by Cuushe, it’s a hallucinatory epic that’s both starkly horrifying and bittersweet. In the years since, Yoko Kuno’s made a name for herself across several mediums — winning the New Face Award for her manga work at Japan Media Arts Festival, serving as a pinch hitter on Orange’s production of Land of the Lustrous and contributing a memorable sequence to Beastars. She returned this year with filmmaker Tao Tajima to produce another sequence scored to Cuushe’s music, Magic. Riffing on Airy Me's themes of bodily transformation and human ennui, it sets the action against real photographic landscapes. It's another haunting masterwork by one of anime’s most multitalented young artists and has been on repeat for me since it came up on my Twitter feed.  

  Image via FLAU

  Meanwhile, the Japanese vocalist Eve continues to commission new and excellent animated work based on his songs. This May saw the release of "How to Eat Life," a video by indie animator Mariyasu which repurposes Eve’s unique symbology of surly adolescents and freaky puppet monsters into a stylish and spooky carnival of carnivorism. It’s an excellent piece that stands tall among the work collected under Eve’s banner, many of which are stone-cold classics themselves. But "Promise," released at the end of this October, threatens to outdo them all. Directed by Ken Yamamoto and produced at Cloverworks, it plays as another greatest hits compilation of Eve’s works — broken promises, collapsing cityscapes, creatures powered by feeling that shake the earth with their footsteps. There’s a real visceral punch to it that beats out even its excellent predecessors. When the protagonist folds over himself in anguish, you feel it in your gut. When he steps deep into the water and the entire world around him is shredded into pieces, anyone who’s ever been a teenager knows exactly how that feels. When his friend reaches in and pulls him out of that water, that’s real joy rising like bubbles through your veins.

  Image via Eve

  Ken Yamamoto’s a bit more mainstream than Mariyasu — just last year he contributed some face-melting action sequences to Fate/Grand Order Absolute Demonic Front: Babylonia. But it says something to me that "Promise" — maybe his best work yet — was released as a music video rather than a new TV series. He’s not alone, either.  This August, the animator China (storyboarder for Encouragement of Climb’s third season) together with character designer Mooang (storyboarder for Sarazanmai) produced the music video "Sore wo Ai to Yobu dake." Like the reverse of Yamamoto’s "Promise," it’s the story not of a pair of teenage boys and their separation that devastates a cityscape — but of a pair of teenage girls who reach across time to recover the bond they shared in their high school days. A potent combination of FLCL-style faded nostalgia, careful attention to body language, and pure patented kids-falling-through-the-sky-while-frantically-reaching-for-each-other anime magic, it’s one of the best-animated sequences of this year. I’ve linked it to friends just to plead “Watch this thing!” And it ends in less than four minutes long.

  Image via Mafumafu

  I can’t help but think: Where is China and Moaang’s movie project? Where is Ken Yamamoto’s TV series? Why is it that Rie Matsumoto has produced two excellent music videos over the past two years that commemorate big franchises, but her rumored film project has yet to lift off? Perhaps the truth is that there isn’t room anymore in the TV anime industry for work like this. Many original projects seem to be tied to cellphone games or stage productions. Projects like Decadence are few and far between, and even those that exist play within a space already laid out by past successes. It’s not all bad, of course — Eizouken this year was a great example of an adaptation working in harmony with its source material. And we’ve seen studios like Orange employ weirder anime creators like Yoko Kuno or the stop-motion team dwarf to great effect in their projects. But perhaps animated music videos represent the future for artists like Matsumoto — a medium that pays well, rewards experimentation, and lets strong artists play around without having to dilute their style. A bite-sized format just outside of the soul-draining churn that defines the industry.

  Maybe this is fine, though. Short-form work is just as worthy of admiration as long-form work. I’d love feature-length projects from Ken Yamamoto or China, and I’d love for the world to see another Rie Matsumoto story told on a grand scale. But I can’t deny that Matsumoto rocks at putting together fantastic music videos and that I might even prefer the concise flow of "Gotcha!" to her TV series output. Either way, in this historically difficult year, I’m grateful to these folks for turning in career-best work and giving me hope for the future.

  Do you have a favorite animated music video? At the risk of getting off track, do you have a favorite anime music video? Do you still watch different fan edits of Hatsune Miku and wowaka's "Rolling Girl" on rotation, like I do? Let me know in the comments!

      Adam W is a Features Writer at Crunchyroll. When he isn't rewatching his favorite anime OPs over and over, he sporadically contributes with a loose coalition of friends to a blog called Isn't it Electrifying? You can find him on Twitter at: @wendeego

  Do you love writing? Do you love anime? If you have an idea for a features story, pitch it to Crunchyroll Features!

By: Adam Wescott

[curious-minx]

Lookie here, my dear (Don’t miss this album!

“

Lookie Here, My Dear is a weekly column that spotlights albums that have evaded the Big Sites (Pitchfork, Stereogum, Allmusic, etc,). This week’s album is one that especially needs some extra love and support:  Of Montreal’s 21st album: I Feel Safe With You, Trash.

Image from Of Montreal’s Bandcamp, please consider supporting an artist you love today on Bandcamp

Of Montreal is the closest I have gotten to embracing a Phish/Grateful Dead style fandom over a band. I would absolutely drop everything I am doing in my life to follow of Montreal on tour. I am singing along to every song. I don’t have the songs consciously memorized, they have been programmed into me. I have listened to a full bootleg version of False Priest and have seen them live more than any other musical act in my lifetime (Around 10 times in three different states and one different country). As an aggressively weird and emotional kid growing up in the South that wanted to break through the gender binary and frighten and challenge the “normals,” you couldn’t ask for a better soundtrack than Of Montreal. I discovered them in 2007, the year of Hissing Fauna, Are You The Destroyer? The last album Of Montreal would earn Pitchfork and Big Publication’s laurels and respect.

There have been 10 albums out since Hissing Fauna and I love the majority of these albums to various degrees. There is a B-sides rarity compilation Daughter of Cloud that I haven’t really spent time with and a couple of real dud LPs: Innocence Reaches and UR Fun. UR Fun was the most recent Of Montreal album that came out in the beginning of 2020 and was more or less written off as a complete failure by critics and online fairweather fans. Critics have actively grown disdainful over Barnes’ eccentricities and their overwhelming unfashionability, there hasn’t been anything trendy about of Montreal in nearly 14 years. Real of Montreal fans know there’s usually one middling album that paves the way for a much stronger release. Mainly evident in the jump of quality between Innocence Reaches and White is Relic. The leap in quality between Trash and UR Fun is astonishing.  

UR Fun has some choice cuts and even the worst Of Montreal albums are more interesting than a good deal of today’s musical landscape. I saw Of Montreal live for UR Fun in February 2020, one of the last full capacity shows that would ever happen in Brooklyn’s Brooklyn Steel venue, perhaps forever. Unfortunately it was one of the most unpleasant oM concerts I attended and no fault of the band but due to the audience. Restless and rude bodies going back and forth, forth and back to the bar or who knows elsewhere and shoving people around. An absolute covid nightmare. Nobody attending concerts in January and February 2020 were appreciating them as much as they should.

////

Of Montreal had been releasing their albums on Polyvinyl since their sixth LP, the critical breakthrough Satanic Panic in the Attic. At that point Barnes had already spent 8 years building up a devoted cult following and making hysterically ornate psychedelic pop and lo-fi rock confections. Of Montreal seem to have a layered working relationship and have been a stable home for Barnes’ adventurous output. What’s remarkable is that none of these shifts in sound ever feel like counter culture role play or trying on an EDM hat or a alternative country hat, they are always distinctively an Of Montreal album. Besides stylistic adventurousness the other running throughline that connects the of Montreal discography together is Barnes’ penchant for hyper-literate, bold everything and the kitchen sink approach to lyricism and songwriting. The highly divisive, gloriously deranged Hissing Fauna follow-up LP, Skeletal Lamping is where the free-verse, songs within songs approach fully becomes a mainstay for Barnes. Even though I Feel Safe With You, Trash is being released on a separate personal vanity label, Sybaritic Peer, Of Montreal and Polyvinyl continue to be a fertile label and artist relationship. 

I Feel Safe With You, Trash is also notably the longest album released by Of Montreal since 2004’s Coquelicot Asleep in the Poppies (1 hr 9 mins) clocking in at 1 hr 6 mins. As of writing this article I have already listened to the album three times and counting upon its official release date. Not because I have a moral principal about how many times a person should experience art before analyzing it, but because the album is so damn replayable. Of Montreal at their best, and this album represents Barnes at the height of their powers, reminds me why I love and obsess over music. Hardly anyone making music today is making music this bold and adventurous. At this point in their career Barnes has more than solidified their status as bonafide Japanese word for a Music Witch. 

Barnes has been performing and producing every single instrument and singing every backing track on their albums for over two decades now, and still indicates not even a sliver of fatigue. There are days where I can barely write a single thought down because I know it won’t get a single like, it won’t lead me any closer to picking up the camera and nailing that perfect monologue. I can be salty about the life of obscurity I have built for myself, but then I have to remember Kevin Barnes. A bonafide musical genius that hardly bothers to get the word out. Barnes seems incapable of stopping making the sort of albums a person can get lost in for days. They are my biggest musical heroes, they represent exactly the sort of path I want to carve out for myself.

I Feel Safe with You, Trash is the embodiment of the gift that keeps on giving. A portrait of an LGTBQI+ artist 25 years into a career completely devoid of diminishing returns. There have been some missteps along the way with “Georgie Fruit'' and having too much fun during a mid-life crisis with UR Fun. More importantly I Feel Safe with You, Trash represents real, critical growth for Of Montreal. And this is Album One of Two of 2021, the year Of Montreal continued to take up a considerable portion of my mental bandwidth, it’s pure bliss. 

///

Notable Tracks:

Aries Equals Good Trash - The first obvious “single” for the album that has a serious swaying lilting, uneasy beat. The vocals on this track are indicative of the overall shift in quality in Barnes vocals that have gotten a lot less strained and smoother.  Favorite lyric/delivery:

“I compare thee to a saturnalia (ha!) if I may be so rude.” 

The song also touches upon Barnes’ relating to be on the spectrum, both the gender/sexual spectrum and the cognitive one. Music for people breaking new ground with a broken brain. 

Now That’s What I Call Freewave - 

“Every time I look at my phone I get brain damaged. By every blamedead person I get lobotomized"

This song is also the first song in the Western music canon to introduce the phrase “feelbad songs of Covid summer.” This song also marks the first appearance of several where Barnes is absolutely shredding the guitar. I don’t really listen to much music that places and emphasis on “solos” or melting the fret board, but how can you not get excited by that burst of guitar? Also leave it to Barnes to find a way to also shout out an experimental cinema deep cut, Chick Strand’s Soft Fiction. I also discovered the Czech film Valerie and Her Week of Wonders through the song “st. exquisite’s confessions.” Why not also use your songs as a chance to shout out cool obscure cinema? 

Still from Chick Strand’s Soft Fiction

True Beauty Forever - Of Montreal go future funk. If you don’t know what that means don’t worry I’m brewing up a whole story on the joys of future funk. 

“I'm a black widow and I don't bite you so I guess I'm in love!

Possibly my new favorite Of Montreal song...

Fuckheads Is the Auto-correction - Okay I need to nix that phrase from my vocabulary because nearly every song on this album could be considered a new favorite. How can you top this opening couplet: 

Am I a creep because I don’t have a chosen pronoun? Am I a creep because my mind is the Odeon of the multiverse?

Drowner's TeÃrs - The use of pitched up vocals is an example of some of the new bells and whistles added to the oM sound palette. 

Fingerless Gloves & Kcrraanggaanngg!! - Find Barnes doing death core, metal styled goblin shrieks and it really, really works. More absolutely gnarly and nasty fret work. 

 Yamagate Florest Flutes & ThRam Rammaged à Man-Mod - Reggae/Dub Of Montreal? :O

Notes Of ViOlate SPectates A Flatter Of Male & So Chill Then (o Portão) - On an album this dense and frenetic there had to be some more ambient and chill passages and having So Chill Then as the album closer makes for a satisfying, soft landing. 

///

And to close whole she-bang up here’s a picture of Of Montreal performing at one of the best music festivals in the world, Pahoda in Slovakia:

 This post is in no way associated with Of Montreal in any way, but I highly recommend checking out and subscribing to Of Montreal’s Patreon Page and ride the artwave!

[awkwardtaco056]

so now that i’m no longer in the Hell that was school and after finding the lovely blog @endcringe i’ve decided to talk about my own experiences with cringe culture, bullying, and why it’s Really Bad to not let people enjoy inherently harmless things, especially neurodivergent people (read more because this is gonna get long and triggering at times, TW for mentions of bullying, suicide, child abuse, a brief mention of incest shipping. I won’t be naming any of the peers that I discuss my experiences with, because my point with this post is Not to “cancel” anyone, I just want to speak out on my experiences)

I’m neurodivergent; I was diagnosed with ADHD when I was 8 years old. I didn’t know a lot about it, and a family member even painted it as “oh it’s nothing blah blah blah just apply yourself more. Because of this, I had no idea about the concept of hyperfixations until I was in my late teens. Due to that, I would obsess over random things and my family would shame me relentlessly for it. My mother said I had an “addictive personality” and that she feared I’d end up a drug addict or alcoholic because of it.

I look younger than what I am, I’m short, and small. AKA, the perfect candidate for being picked on by people bigger and stronger than me. People made fun of my art when I was around 13, but fortunately that was an instance where spite fueled me to improve drastically. However, just because I happened to take the shitty comments and have it fuel me then does NOT mean bullying people will have that effect all the time. At some point someone put my old South Park fan art on a cringe blog. I was temporarily hurt, and a little angry, but I realized that if someone was making fun of a 15 year old’s art, they probably didn’t have much going for them in life, so I moved on.

Fast forward to high school. Everything was horrible and I’m not exaggerating when I say I barely made it out alive. I was living in an abusive household up until January 2018 and I found comfort in many different interests. I’ve always found great comfort in music and the arts in general. In 2016, I drew a picture of a mermaid. I was inspired by the chocolate opal gemstone, and I thought it’d be fun to draw a gay chubby mermaid with dark skin and a rainbow tail and freckles. Junior year was lousy and I wanted something that sparked Joy. I was immediately told that “scientifically, mermaids wouldn’t look like that. Mind you, my take looked like this:

Obviously I wasn’t going for realism, I just wanted to draw a cute mermaid. However, they continued to tell me that they wouldn’t look like that, going as far as writing so on the back of said drawing. When I got angry at her for taking it too far (as I’d established before that I didn’t like it when people wrote on my art without permission), they got angry back, accusing me of being unable to take criticism. Heated by the accusation, I went as far as asking my art teacher if it was fair for them to say that, and she said no, stating that constructive criticism would be talking about how I could improve my lineart and coloring in the digital version. I took her actual helpful criticism and since then have improved Drastically in digital art. Even with that being said, I found myself hesitant to participate in things such as MerMay because I was leery of hearing that peer berate me for having cartoony mermaids. 

 During high school I grew to love many musicians, a lot of emo/alternative stuff, a couple being Twenty One Pilots and Melanie Martinez. I love how unique TOP’s style is, their open discussion of mental illness, and as someone who had a rough childhood, I connected with every single song on Cry Baby. It was like nothing I’d ever heard. I started listening to mashups featuring all these different artists I love, adoring how they could change the tone and sound so drastically. A peer Bully of mine in junior year condemned these two artists, declaring that they made “Bad Music” simply because it didn’t fit their tastes. They’d throw my drawings on the ground, write over them in pen, steal my headphones so I couldn’t listen to music, push me around, complain that mashups sucked and gave them a headache, and in general shit all over conetnt that was actively preventing me from committing suicide. 

Some family members were no better. Once high school hit, I began listening to Fall Out Boy, Panic! at the Disco, and My Chemical Romance. Their deep complex lyrics stuck with me. I would write down quotes from my favorite songs and thanks to hyperfixating, I remember each studio album in order My mother resented when I fell in love with the “Emo Trinity” because “the Columbine  shooters were emo and that event traumatized me” Despite that, not only did the Columbine tragedy occur in 1999 and none of the bands got together until the early 2000s, but I have a pretty good feeling those groups aren’t For gun violence. The other side constantly criticized the fact that I love FOB, P!ATD, and MCR because I’m black and “why must you listen to that white people music.”

 I grew fond of Dan and Phil in high school (and I’m still a fan to this day!), I loved Phil’s kindness and positive aura and I deeply connect with Dan’s sense of humor and personality. Their content made me happy during some very dark times in my life. It’s November 2017, I’m over a close peer’s house at the time, and notice PINOF is upon us. I drew the PINOF whiskers on my face, my plan being to quietly watch them in the corner of peer’s bedroom on my phone through headphones, the others were doing their own thing and I knew they didn’t like them, so I thought they’d respect it if I silently indulged in it. Unfortunately, the complete opposite happened. I was immediately shunned and locked out of the bedroom, told that I’d only be let back in if I washed the whiskers off because “absolutely not”. Me, being stubborn, washed them off temporarily but drew them back on in the room. Life during then was especially bad for me, as the abusive household I was in was getting worse. They noticed, of course, and even though all I wanted was to enjoy this small tradition in a time during a deep depression, I was immediately shoved out the room and locked out, only to have said peer’s family members notice. I’m a relatively shy person, so this was honesty a really harrowing experience that had a lasting effect on me. 

I grew to adore Sanders Sides as well, but the moment I found out most of my peers didn’t like Thomas, I was terrified.  I stopped watching Dan and Phil’s content for months and shied away from other fandoms too, only occasionally indulging in times of complete solitude. One time when said peers were due to visit my house for the first time, I saw the Phandom and Fander stuff I’d hung up on my wall in my little sanctuary that was my bedroom (it was the first time in years I’d had my own room), and I was filled with panic and fear. I took them down and hid them away, genuinely terrified of what they’d do to me if they saw. It’s still incites so much anger in me to this day because they turned around and ended up shipping incest, but somehow liking D&P and Sanders Sides was So. Much. Worse.

They were baffled by my actions, despite having humiliated me Twice by going on a private blog of mine separate from everything so that I could fully indulge and laughing at everything on there, once at a peer’s house, once right in school. I don’t think they realized how traumatizing it was to have a large group of people in public laughing at something I was deeply self conscious about for all of my life. I put on a brave face at the time, but ended up crying in the bathroom after first period began. I continued to be treated as lesser until things came to an ugly head August 2018 when I ended up in the hospital because I nearly attempted suicide. Years of child abuse, bullying, and being deemed “cringy” made me feel like I didn’t deserve to be alive, that everyone would be happier if I were gone.

After arguably one of the lowest points in my life, I cut them off and slowly began to embrace the Real Me. I started letting myself enjoy the things again, made true friends and even found love, my first boyfriend ever at 18. I still get choked up retelling it, but when PINOF 10 dropped, after he found out how much I’d been hurt over the incident in 2017, I was greeted with a photo of him with the whiskers on his face. I cried for a while, blown away at such a pure act of kindness. He listens to me ramble about my interests, he compliments my taste in music, he watched K-12 with me. 

This got incredibly long, but my point is this: Cringe Culture hurts people. You might think it’s whatever if the Thing doesn’t apply to your interests, but content you’re denouncing as cringy could be something that’s keeping them alive, that one flicker of light in a void of darkness. When I was contemplating suicide, I listened to The Black Parade, repeating Gee’s words to myself over and over, that nothing in the world was worth hurting yourself over. Some friendly joshing here and there is okay, but actively ripping someone to shreds constantly to the point where they have a mental breakdown in front of you and later on plan their own demise is disgusting. Nobody should abuse anyone for having harmless interests, no one. Unless you’re participating in p*dophilic/inc*st/s*xual assault/inherently abusive ships/content and pretending it’s not bad because “Fiction doesn’t impact reality!”, you have every right to like what you like and be happy. Read homestuck. Play Undertale. Draw up the Wildest OCs you can imagine. And stay away from people who try to rob you of innocent fun, life is too short and in this cruel, unforgiving world, you deserve to be happy, whether you’re a 13 year old who draws cute furries, a 16 year old cosplayer on TikTok, a VSCO girl, a 30 year old who writes/draws self insert art or a 20 year old who adores Invader Zim. 

Cringe Culture is just bullying under a different name, and it can lead to many instances of people, especially fellow neurodivergent folk to feel isolated and ostracized. Attempting to bully someone out of an interest they have isn’t going to fix them; it’s more often than not going to cause more damage. I suffer from diagnosed C-PTSD, anxiety, and depression, and sometimes I still find myself trying to over-justify my interests. To all who are roped up in bad homes and lousy “friends” who berate you for your innocent passions, I’m sorry you’re suffering, things will one day get better even if it doesn’t feel like it, and fuck those people. I’d also like to note that sometimes even if it seems more terrifying, it’s better to have one or two close friends you can truly trust than a whole group that walks all over you. You have every right to call them out for treating you poorly, and if things don’t improve, you also have every right to leave.

You have a right to live your True Self.

[bi-outta-cordonia]

A Courtesan of Rome is ending, albeit hurriedly, but here’s the thing:

Xanthe was a waste.

We are given a book that is ultimately historical fiction, allows us to travel back in time to one of the most infamous moments of all time and, along the way, we play as a lone woman in a historical context who is given the power to change the world.

Along the way we meet a plethora of people, each of which plays a role in the story one way or another, with the exception of one.

Xanthe was sold to Lena as a little girl. She’s been trained to become a courtesan since she was a child. We are introduced to her as being a vapid and jealous woman, one who takes pride in her craft nonetheless but is in danger of being pushed out of the comfortable position she’s made for herself in Rome.

Think for a second about the implications behind Xanthe being trained to be a courtesan since she was a little girl. Sabina was married to Legate Aquila when she was between ten and twelve years old. There was an acute sense of horror that players were expected to feel for Sabina because, well, she was forced to become a child bride for the sake of her father needing to advance his political station. Her father used her as a tool, as something he could bargain with rather than love her like a parent would love their child. We felt bad for Sabina, we sympathized with Sabina, 

So now think of a child being trained to please men. She has no family, no one to protect her, no one to fall back on if she messes up because she’s truly all alone. Her routine is entirely of her learning to become sexually appealing to men and, if she is not successful in doing that, she will be thrown out onto the streets and forced to fend for herself from others that would have no qualms with using her for their own gain. 

She is a child when she’s forced to do this, she grows into a woman that then becomes exceptionally skilled at her craft. She learns the ins and outs of the types that frequently seek her out. She learns who the most powerful patrons are and learns how to charm them with but a smile and a few words. She has been training to do this since she was a girl, sold to the people who trained her as a slave meant to serve them and bring them money. She is forced to do this because she has no other choice. 

Perhaps she grows into the role. Grows into the idea of having independence and a reputation better than most of the senators’ wives have. She is her own woman, allowed to purchase her own things, allowed to move freely within particular social circles, and all this is due to the fact that she successfully learned how to play the game and win. She’s thriving and it’s what she needs for the moment. 

But then, here comes some other girl. She’s older by the time she arrives but the girl’s new owners are already fawning over her. They are providing the girl with every advantage, giving her the most powerful patrons. The girl is new, has only been training for a few years at most, but she’s receiving some of the better paying patrons who are supplying her with a lifestyle she was not raised to know. 

This puts the child who grew into the woman in a dangerous position--by losing the wealthier patrons, she loses a good chunk of her income--she becomes useless to the owners and risks being cast away from a position she’s held for years. 

This has been the core of Xanthe’s actual problem with us, not jealousy but fear, and I can’t honestly blame her for feeling that. We were a newcomer, someone who cared not for Rome or any of its trappings. Someone who didn’t care about wealth and power. We came to the scholae already outright rejecting Roman customs but Xanthe was forced to embody them as a child in order to survive. 

Every thing she had been through, all that she had to become in order to simply live in Rome was something she endured as a child. Given that this is her history, it begs the question: why wasn’t she allowed the complexity and depth to be a voice for those that have long since found themselves voiceless?

She was a courtesan in Rome, a woman with no past, sold to Lena as a child, and she never gets a chance to interrogate the systems that bred her or the institution that used her in such egregious ways. She never got to ask “why did this happen to me,” never got to curl her lip in disgust as another senator palmed her dress, never got to seethe as another batch of young girls shuffled through the scholae in tatters with tears in their eyes as Lena explained what their new life would entail. 

The idea that we had Xanthe here to be a complex character that let us see through the lens of history and realize that a lot of what people think of Rome as a civilization is just seen through rose tinted glasses. Rome had brutality of a variety--with Syphax we see the broken justice system, with Antony we see how easily and willingly those who had power would abuse it without hesitation, and with us as the MC we see how brutal and violent the campaigns were for those who were not Roman. 

Xanthe could’ve been another voice, another look into the world of women and the society of Rome. We could’ve had the potential to open up to her and get her side of things. 

We could’ve learned that she knew her parents. We could’ve cried when she described the first time she tended to a patron. We could’ve seethed with anger when she voiced her concerns for the other girls who got dragged into our mess after Legate Aquila ransacked the scholae. We could’ve helped distract a particularly difficult patron so she could breathe for a moment or pushed off a more powerful patron to her as a gesture of kindness. 

We could’ve sat down with her and explained what Caesar did to our family, did to our homeland. We could’ve explained that we are not here because we choose to be, but because we had those choices taken from us by the Romans and their constant thirst for power. We could’ve been the lens from which she finally understood that absolute power corrupts and casts despair upon those who are not strong enough to deflect it. We could’ve seen her breakdown and throw amphoras, break mirrors, shred her clothes as she ranted about Rome, fucking Rome, Rome and its constant need to conquer the shiniest and prettiest new things. 

We could’ve still had angry, vengeful Xanthe but instead of having her be a vapid airhead, she could’ve been so hurt and so distraught after we explained that Legate Aquila almost forced us to have sex with him had it not been for his wife who finally found the courage to stand up to him. 

We could’ve had angry, vengeful Xanthe who told us that she would not forgive us for what happened to the other girls or to Syphax, but she would sooner risk death by spitting on the Legate for attempting to force us to do what we had been given the choice not to do with patrons. 

We could’ve had angry, vengeful Xanthe who would tell us that we are insane for thinking we could possibly bring down a Legate but who would also go on to provide bits of useful information she gleaned from other senators in regards to Aquila’s movements. 

We could’ve had angry, vengeful Xanthe who would butt heads with Lena and teach girls unconventional lessons that the older woman would never teach them; lessons that Xanthe would then teach MC in a few exclusive scenes once she finds out that Antony intends to give her as a gift. 

We could’ve had angry, vengeful Xanthe who would still call us a fool knowing we plan to make good on killing Caesar and who would subtly stir unrest amongst her own patrons for the sake of taking vengeance on not just Caesar, but on Rome--for robbing her and other girls like her of their families, of their lives, of their personhood for the sake of building a utopia they never wanted to be a part of. 

We could’ve had angry, vengeful Xanthe who still didn’t like us but respected us for having the courage to refute Rome at every step--for being able to grow up our own woman. 

Instead, Xanthe remained vapid and useless, only meant to be the jealous and bitter rival who, in the grand scheme of things, did not really matter. Xanthe who was villainized at every step and Xanthe who we so boldly claimed we could’ve been friends with even though, at no point throughout the entire story, did we ever get an option to actually be nice to her. 

But sure, we’ll let Madeleine have a redemption arc even though she spent all of The Royal Romance belittling us for being less wealthy than her, after she humiliated our closest friends, after she made us go pick up the wedding ring the man we loved was likely gonna slip onto her finger, and after she offered no apology to us for her past behavior whatsoever. 

We’ll let Penelope just sweep the fact that she helped orchestrate a literal sexual assault on us so that we would be photographed in a compromising position and was absolutely rewarded for her efforts, a thing she did without a shred of guilt until after we put two and two together and confronted her about.

We’ll let Sebastian have a redemption arc after he literally stole money from the university he attended, money that could’ve helped pay for scholarships and other resources that different educational programs needed, which of course came before he tried to cut all scholarships that weren’t purely academic just to spite a few people he didn’t like, and of course again after he sabotaged the boiler in our house and could’ve seriously injured someone.

We’ll let Landry have a redemption arc after he gave the most superficial reasoning for why he decided to throw our friendship under the bus and did so by way of endangering actual patient lives by turning off our pager, taking our patients’ charts, and just flat out telling lies about us to the nurses which seriously damaged our ability to do our fucking job. 

We’ll let all these people slide with the proper consideration to the plethora of conditions that give us a complex look at why they did what they did--Madeleine because she was byproduct of a loveless marriage and has never understood that people are driven by empathy rather than practicality, Penelope because she had anxiety and could never have survived in the court without a serious edge over her peers, Sebastian because he had a fucked up childhood, and Landry I guess because he’s not used to losing,

But we don’t have any room or sympathy in our hearts for the woman who was taken from her family as a child, sold into slavery, and forced to learn young how to shut her mouth and be pretty or else she’d be cast into destitution for the rest of her life? How sway?

[trvelyans-archive]

“so.”

varric’s voice is as loud and booming as ever, as if he’s announcing something to a crowd of invisible spectators. if she watches him closely enough she can see him piecing together the sentences behind his eyes - he’s always spinning a story, always playing along with a narrative, always using the words to match. it’s how he hooks people in. 

that damned tethras man and his charming tethras tongue. absolutely irresistible.

“tell me if you’ve heard this one before,” he begins, a playful glint in his small eyes. “there’s this woman. and she’s the loudest, wildest person anyone will ever meet - the savior of the damned, a legend in the making. and she knows too many people for her own good, and too many people know her - a golden-haired mage, a brooding elf, a wide-eyed dalish, and a dashing pirate. and, at one point or another, they all fall for her...” his hands fall to his side from where they were suspended in the air, inviting her to bask in the web he was spinning, and his face softens in earnst. “and yet she picks the humble, lowly dwarven storyteller who follows her around and notes her every movement, her every word.”

“that’s hardly a story. the only thing fictional thing about that is you insinuating that you’re in any way humble,” hawke quips, arms crossed over her chest, shoulders squared. she can’t help but play along with his little game. she couldn’t stop herself if she tried. 

“i am humble,” varric corrects. “i’ve been forced to be humble, down in the dirt after my brother betrays me... and my knight in shining armor shows up, lifts my spirits. but i’m still hesitant to tell her how i feel because i don’t want to get hurt again...”

“oh, is that why?”

“’course it is.” his nod is astute. “mutual, unspoken pining between two best friends makes for the best stories. those are the ones that sell the most. people love a good tragedy.”

“well, what just happened could definitely be described as a tragedy,” she grumbles, the gleam in her eyes suddenly cast over by a darkened expression. not even their game can distract her from the purpose of their excursion out to the coast; not even varric’s winning smile can make her forget the heavy pack on her shoulders, weighed down with all the supplies she needs to survive away from the city. “just look at the damn state i left kirkwall in.”

varric makes a move to respond - his opens his mouth, takes a step closer to her, reaches to grab her hand. and then he stops. mind going blank, shoulders sagged in defeat, he doesn’t know what to say. for the first time ever - for the first time with hawke - he doesn’t know what to say.

he’s varric. he’s always supposed to be nearby with a joke and an ambivalent shrug of his shoulders. but nothing feels like it’d fill the silence.

so he laughs - an uneasy, choked out thing, caught in his throat, cracking in the middle like a tree branch underfoot, and says with as much muster as he can manage, “well, that... wasn’t, uh, entirely your fault, you know, hawke.”

“it was.” her words are harsh and clipped and bitter. “it was, because i’m the one paying the price for it. leaving everything behind...”

she meets his gaze and her heart breaks. “leaving you behind.” 

“hawke...”

“i know we’ve never said it, but -”

“and we don’t have to,” varric interrupts, closing the distance between them and grabbing her hands in his as he directs his eyes upwards. “you’re gonna come back, hawke. ten months or ten years, you’re going to come back. and when you do, i’ll be here, waiting...”

“pining?” she suggests, sniffling and bringing her forearm up to her nose to wipe it. the tears came quickly - they don’t have enough time left for them to come slowly.

“yeah, sure, pining,” he replies, laughing as he brings a calloused thumb up to smudge a tear against her cheek, not bothering to pay attention to the ones on his own. “if that’s what you want, then yeah. pining. pining after the most beautiful, most wild woman that thedas has ever seen.”

“you promise?”

“i promise, hawke.” his voice lacks volume, lacks conviction - there’s no lies to spin, no plot twist to devise. he’s here, with hawke, open and honest and aching for her, and there’s nothing false or fictional about it. “i’ll never stop waiting for you. no matter what.”

she crumples to her knees, gathering his small frame up in her arms. “i love you,” she whispers into his ear. one of his legs is caught between hers, and her hands never stay one place too long, roaming across the plane of his back - their embrace is desperate and messy and twitchy, completely with hoarse laughter and quiet sobs and thick tears staining dusty fabric. no one likes desperate and messy, varric thinks, but he needs it. in this moment, it’s the only thing he needs. the only thing he wants. ugly. because nothing real is ever very pretty.

“i -” he chokes out a sob, catches her hair between his teeth as he opens and closes his mouth in his best attempt to reply without crying. “i l-love you, too, hawke. shit.”

when she draws away, she presses a kiss to his lips. it is bright and pure and intoxicating, and for one moment he forgets everything in the world besides her lips on his - he forgets anders, and aveline, and grand enchanter elthina and knight commander meredith and all of the shit that went wrong in kirkwall. all he thinks about - all he can think about - is the wet, soft sound hawke’s mouth makes as her lips retreat from his and then, before either one of them can say anything else, come in for another dose. 

his mind is reeling, and his thoughts are spinning. he can’t and he’ll never be able to find the words to describe how hawke feels against his body, beneath his hands. how much he’ll miss her.

when finally their kiss ends, they linger in the moment for as long as they can, eyes half-closed in a refusal to admit that a world exists outside of the two of them. then she grabs one of his hands in hers and presses a red strip of cloth into his open, empty palm and curves his fingers around it.

“take this,” she insists. “wear it everyday. in your hair, on your finger, around your neck, whatever. a token from me for my knight in shining armor.” 

varric squeezes his eyes shut. it’s too soon. it’s ending too soon. “hawke...”

“i love you,” she repeats. it sounds natural, easy, like she’s said it thousands of times before even though she hasn’t. if only she did. if only she had the chance to. “i love you,” she says again, her voice a whimper.

when he opens his eyes, she’s gone.

he takes a moment to recuperate. blinks the tears from his orange eyelashes, sucks the rest of his snot up his nostrils and swallows it. everything is ugly, and awful, and vile, and he bites down on the inside of his cheek to keep from crying again, tying the red ribbon around his right wrist as tight as he can with one hand. when he’s looped it around enough for it to hold, he takes the end of it between his teeth to secure it. but suddenly it’s close enough to his nose that a familiar scent floods his senses, and he realizes - it’s the piece of fabric that hawke uses to keep her hair out of her face.

it’s what she used to use. 

varric sighs. he bends over to grab his own pack, swings it up on his shoulders, and starts towards the speck in the distance that is what remains of kirkwall.

it’s when he gets back to the hanged man and sits down in front of his blank pages that he realizes this isn’t a story for anyone else to read. no one will want to read it. people don’t like happy endings, and this story is going to have one. so he puts his ink and quill away and for the first time, picks up the unused papers on his desk and rips them to shreds.

---  

light streams through the gap in the hallway outside the war room. hawke’s back is pressed against the wall, her sword tall and present and threatening even though it’s wedged in between her and the stone, and varric realizes she looks like a hero, like she could be on the cover of a book. but her head is tilted towards varric, a playful, loving smile on her lips, and that would draw in no one else like it draws in varric.

“so... they don’t know about... us?” she asks. her gaze flickers towards the door as she shifts uneasily, looking all too well like she’s trying to keep a dirty, shameful secret, and varric almost laughs.

but he assuages her fears instead, fears that are well-earned. “nah,” he responds with a wave of his right hand. “figured that’d be a story best kept between us. i don’t think anyone else would really enjoy it.”

“well... i think that you’re right.” 

she grins at him. though her hair is different, her skin is more tanned, her muscles are bulkier beneath her armor and her shoulders are more broad, she has the same grin she’s always had, the same one that makes him weak in the knees. he stutters for a moment, taken off-guard by her, and she takes the opportunity to snag his hand and start off down the hallway, away from the yelling between the advisers inside the war room.

“i don’t think i remember much of the last chapter,” she tells him over her shoulder, arching her eyebrow suggestively. “you might have to remind me.”

by the time they reach the great hall, she’s pulling him along only by the end of the red ribbon adorning his wrist. there’s still a long walk back to his quarters - their quarters, since the moment she arrived in skyhold this morning - and he can barely wait to touch her again and to kiss her again, to re-familiarize himself with her lips. but he’ll wait. this is something he’ll want to keep private.

“good thing i have a great memory,” he replies, saying and doing no more until she kicks open the door to his room and closes it securely behind them.

---

varric has barely passed through the veil when the vomit is already spewing from his mouth. everything is fucking backwards and upside down - his vision is blurry, his head is heavy, and his limbs ache from exertion worse than they’ve ever ached before. he’s just finished retching as the inquisitor stumbles through the tear in the fade. stroud comes out hot on their heels, his brow line with sweat, sword glinting in the pale desert moonlight.

varric blinks rapidly to clear his vision - once, twice, then three times, then four. and he stops, eventually, finally, chest still heaving as he takes a step closer to the inquisitor.

“where’s hawke?” he asks. 

the inquisitor gives him no more of an answer than a shake of their head, and varric falls to his knees, crossbow clanging to the ground and sounding all too well like the cover of a book slamming shut.

[headspacedad]

What has me both in shreds but in awe is how quickly Ryou took everyone out...BUT. They weren’t actually hurt. Just bruised and angry. And he effectively left his bayard/Black behind. And took the outmoded pod. How the virus was Pidge’s wheelhouse (and only took down systems singularly/left life support/doors/hangars alone). How he chose the clone fascility for the fight/thouroughly trashed it. Fought close combat vs blasting. I swear he was stalling/giving them a chance. And we saw The Champion

You know, yesterday when I reblogged that gif set of the Shiro clone kidnapping Lotor and taking down the bridge team I noticed that Shiro punched out Lance with his left arm.  So his non-dominant and more importantly, non-metal, spring loaded appendage.  I mean, there’s no doubt at all that he tore into the entire team without hesitation and he took them out as quickly and effectively as possible in a very brutal way.  I’ve commented before that when Shiro (and the clone) fights there’s something that’s very controlled and reined in about it.  I think the only time we saw him even come close to brutal was when he was plowing through the Galra ship to get the Black Lion back after Zarkon had hijacked it.  Seeing the clone fight was - okay to me it was terrifying and invigorating and brutal and really exciting but I usually enjoy fight scenes that are manual in a movie.  But it really did drive home the fact that Shiro (and his clone) are absolutely terrifying and the Champion part of his background tends to get left in the background and almost glossed over a great deal to the point the fandom (and the writers) sometimes seems to forget what that means.

I personally have such a weakness for the terrifying gentle protectors in fiction.  My last big muse was Minato Namikaze from Naruto so yeah - I’ve got a type.  And Shiro fits it.  Fits the ‘be more frightening than the things that frighten those you protect’ kind of thing.

But - you are so so very right too and that’s a great observation.  The clone could have killed or at least seriously maimed that entire bridge crew with very little extra effort.  And he didn’t.  He put them down hard - but Allura was still conscious to make the shipwide announcement.  He did what was absolutely necessary to achieve his goal - but not a jot more.  I don’t think the Black Lion would have taken him at that point but he didn’t even waste time checking.  Haggar had only specified her son and that was all he was taking with him.  He ran right past Pidge on the way out and didn’t even slow down to try to put her out of commission even though it would have been the smart thing to do.  He downloaded the virus but he didn’t destroy any of the control panels afterward.  Like you pointed out, he led Keith directly to the cloning facility and whether he rigged it or not, that thing was set to overload and blow.  (seriously, what DID Haggar need several hundred clones for?  Other than drama)  And the whole time he was there, fighting Keith, he never once tried to trick him into lowering his defenses.  If anything every word he said was specifically to drive Keith away from him and sever any bonds that would have Keith holding back.  He certainly didn’t give Keith any breathing room, forcing an instinctive killing blow over parries that he just brushed aside.  I am so - miffed - that the writers don’t seem to plan on doing anything with the clone saga beyond what we had.  There is SO much potential in the ‘what makes a person who they are’ question and so many echoes of it that should be used and at least in the interviews it seems as if they are not only going to ignore that, they’re not even aware it was an option in the first place.  Clone Shiro/Ryou was obeying the law to the letter.  Doing exactly what Haggar wanted him to.  And yet he was only obeying the letter of her orders and all the wiggle room she wasn’t aware she gave him, he was certainly using to advantage.  Or seemed to be.  Its a pure shame if the writers don’t even touch on that at some point because someone had to have written it in there.

[itspatsy]

Okay, after much thought, here’s my attempt to explain how I’m generally okay with Trish’s trajectory this season in theory, but why I feel the writers slipped up in execution. 

Addiction is a monster. It takes over your life, every facet of it, mind, body, and soul, and tears it to shreds. It controls you. It consumes you, fully. It leaves you lying to everyone around you, rationalizing, making excuses and justifications. It destroys your relationships. It makes you use, manipulate, and discard people, whether they be total strangers or your closest loved ones, because nothing is more important than getting your fix. It forces you to do things you never thought you would do, awful, immoral, degrading things. It twists you into someone you can’t even recognize. I get that. I get that this is what Trish’s storyline was about. And I get that none of the other characters were really in a position to help her deal with any of it, and how that shows the importance of having a support system to help you through a mental illness like this. 

And it wasn’t a character assassination, because all the pieces were there. The barely contained rage and taste for violence, the self-protectiveness and need to be in control, the fear of vulnerability, the reckless self-destruction and lack of impulse control, the low self-esteem and feelings of worthlessness, the undeveloped sense of self, the egocentrism and self-righteousness, the self-defensiveness and difficulty admitting wrongs, the envy of what others have, the obsessiveness, the apathy and trouble understanding others’ feelings, the overwhelming ambition to contribute something meaningful to the world, the desperate need to be someone that matters, really matters, to people. And there were shades of unhealthiness in her relationship with Jessica: codependency, envy, high expectations, the idealization, trying to live vicariously through her, pushing her into things that weren’t always best for her. 

Those were all aspects of Trish, some more negative or harmful than others, and most of them very much a response to severe trauma and abuse. I’ve talked a lot about those aspects of her character in the past. They were part of her in s1, but tempered to manageable levels, because she was in a reasonably stable place in her life and was making an active effort to improve herself and to get better. But then her best friend and only support system disappeared for 6 months, she was almost murdered multiple times despite all her self-defense training, she broke 10 years of being clean with Simpson’s pill to protect Jessica, and her abusive mom found a way to slither back into her life by hanging information about Jessica over her head. That stability and any sense of safety and control she’d been able to develop was gone, all of her resistance was lowered to critical levels, and it opened her up to this relapse, which then ate away at the most positive parts of her personality and amplified the worst ones x1000. I get that.

One quick look through this blog will show that I was not one of those fans that ever thought Trish was some pure precious cinnamon role and moral paragon. I knew that under her put-together facade, she was a walking disaster that was as traumatized and damaged and desperate and conflicted as Jessica. And I did want the show to explore that damage and how trauma presents itself in many different ways. I wanted it to be clear to viewers Trish is actually not okay and is still struggling with her past. I wanted her issues with addiction to be examined. I wanted then to move towards Hellcat. I even wanted her and Malcolm to interact more and develop their own dynamic. So I should be happy, right? They technically did what I wanted. Shit, like 90% of the songs on my Trish playlist just became significantly more relevant. But no, I’m not really feeling happy about it, because I got the wishing on a monkey’s paw version. 

A quick personal note: Trish means a lot to me, and her relationship with Jessica means a lot to me, and that’s something I can’t really put into words. My initial reaction to the season was just… an overwhelming sadness. And I don’t feel as bad now, but I keep bouncing between “sure, it does make sense” to “this is so awful, oh god, why would they do this???” Sometimes I feel this inspiration to write thousands of words of meta, but then it just as easily turns and suddenly I can’t stand thinking about it because it makes me nauseous. For the last year, I’ve thought about Trish every day in at least some capacity. I thought about her as I went to bed, when I drove, when I went for walks, when I had any short moment of time to myself. I’m not here to talk about whether using fictional characters like that is a particularly healthy coping mechanism, because that’s not the point right now. The point is, it was a pleasant distraction for me that helped me cope with other life things, but now it’s something that causes me pain and anxiety, and I’m stuck feeling like I have to detach from the thing that was helping me detach if I ever want to feel better. 

I’ve been trying to pinpoint what it is about all of this that’s making me feel that way. Why do I feel like someone literally died? I don’t think my problem is with the characterization in and of itself because I knew those things were sitting under the surface, and it’s not with telling this story of trauma and addiction and putting the full ugly reality of it on display. It definitely isn’t a problem with the acting: Rachael Taylor was amazing and knocked it out of the park. So what’s the problem? Why isn’t this sitting okay with me? I’m generally pretty rational, but I think most of my issues here are very perception and emotion based rather than anything obviously intellectual, and it’s hard to verbalize. I’ll try my best. And I don’t know, maybe my feelings will change if I watch again, but right now, the idea of that still hurts too much. 

So. The writers deconstructed Trish, which is fascinating in theory, but I just feel like they did it without… kindness? It felt like pure merciless brutality. Even mean-spirited sometimes. They debased every part of her life and her accomplishments, cheapened them, and put her in publicly humiliating situations at every opportunity. They left her without a shred of dignity, without her heart, without one positive relationship. And, no, addiction isn’t at all kind, it is cruel and demeaning and heartless, but I didn’t feel a sense of compassion from the writers themselves in how they handled her and her trauma and mental illness. That so many viewers are reacting so negatively to Trish doesn’t strike me as purely a failure to understand the impact of addiction, but that there was a failure on the writers’ part to show it in an empathetic, understanding way. Even I, someone that loves Trish so much and spends a lot of time in her head, feel like I have to do extra legwork. 

It felt as though they were prioritizing and emphasizing her motivations in a way that was intended to put her in the absolute worst light possible. Her most selfish motivations (”unholy” ambition, jealousy, wanting to be the special one) were on full display and consistently pointed out by other characters, but they often underplayed her more sympathetic, obviously trauma based motivations or the motivations that were sincerely about helping other people. She talked the talked about doing good, but there was no point where it was shown in action. It was almost always a manipulative ploy to help herself or get her fix. I know Trish does sincerely care about people, wants to make sure they never have to feel as small and helpless and voiceless as she’s been made to feel, and I think probably the writers do think of that as one of her many conflicting motivations, but they didn’t show it, they only told it and then contradicted it. It also definitely didn’t help that it felt like they were villainizing ambition, and as a result, villainizing her for daring to have it. I don’t think I need to explain why the implication that women having ambition will lead them down a road of power-hungry obsession and selfish callousness is… not great. 

And I feel like they just didn’t carry over what should have been obvious threads that would’ve helped make more sense of this downward spiral. What I said above about how her behavior here connects to the events of s1? That’s all headcanoning from me. The show didn’t actually draw those lines. It wasn’t clear that she was still reacting to having her vulnerability shoved so brutality back in her face by Simpson and Kilgrave. That she’d opened herself up to relapse after taking Simpson’s pill. That Kilgrave fractured her relationship with Jessica and the cracks still hadn’t been patched up. Or even that letting her mom near her again was reviving old traumas and pressures and expectations and unhealthy coping mechanisms. I think the whole thing moved too quickly, and they decided to give us the Darkest Timeline Trish without fully adding up the elements and explaining when and how we crossed the veil and dipped into that timeline. When I was plotting out an AU where she never met Jessica, s2 Trish is actually what I pictured. But that’s kind of the key point: it was a Trish that never had anyone’s love and support. That wasn’t true here. And I think at least pulling threads from s1 would’ve added more depth to it, instead of making it seem like she was only being driven by some desperation for MORE MORE MORE. 

And I don’t know, maybe it’s all just in my head, but I perceived a kind of near softening of Dorothy (not completely, obviously) that almost felt designed to pull even more sympathy away from Trish. It just felt like they were pulling back on her. There were a few points where it seemed they were trying to veer her closer to lovable asshole territory and trying to gloss over things we know she did from s1. I think viewers do need reminders sometimes, especially if you’ve been off the air for over two years, and it doesn’t help to have things completely vital to a character’s identity and formation mentioned offhandedly in a quick conversation. That Dorothy literally pimped her daughter out was sort of brushed over and the repercussions of her role in it weren’t examined. Even their body language shifted compared to the defensiveness of s1. Trish just let Dorothy into her personal space, let her casually touch her, like it didn’t mean anything, like there wasn’t years of physical abuse. And then to put Dorothy in a position to be the voice of reason was just… wow. To leave viewers with the ability to say, “damn, Trish is a selfish prick, and Dorothy is just telling it like it is,” it felt gross. 

By the end, the execution of all this felt more like a grueling punishment of the character than a complex, human story told with careful thoughtfulness and compassion. It felt villainizing. It felt like darkness for the sake of darkness. And listen, I love angst. I love complicated, difficult characters sometimes doing the wrong things. I love characters failing and falling and learning and building themselves back up. But I’m just so tired of hopelessly grimdark stories. I’m tired of shows destroying their light in a quest to compete for the title of sickest, saddest world. 

And yes, this show was already harsh in its first season, and it didn’t back away from cruel reality, but it wasn’t hopeless. It had its heart. And that beating, bleeding heart was the relationship between Jessica and Trish. But they chose to rip that heart out. And that’s the thing that bothers me the most. They took away the most positive thing in these women’s lives, and the most positive thing in the show and something the fandom loved, and for what purpose exactly? In s1, they gave us these broken, codependent women that could be messy and wrong, that could cause each other pain, but still shared a love that was powerful and supportive and uplifting. That’s an infinitely more valuable and meaningful thing to put on the screen than another common, cliched story about petty jealousy tearing women apart. 

And I’m aware it wasn’t as simple as a petty need to be the special-est person in the room driving Trish, that this envy stems from her knowing if she’d had Jessica’s power she’d have been able to protect herself from the things that still leave her feeling empty and small, how it continues to feed into her feelings of worthlessness and lack of control, that she’s been conditioned to believe nothing is good enough and she needs to be better and more than herself and have more than what she has if anyone is ever going to love her, but I also spend a lot of time in Trish’s head, thinking about her motivations and traumas. I doubt most viewers are going to take the time to dig deeper. And I don’t know, I can’t entirely blame the fandom for failing to afford Trish the same sympathy and understanding they’re willing to offer Jessica and her fuck ups when it feels like the show itself didn’t seem to want to give it to Trish or didn’t try to paint the fullest picture of where she was coming from. So the takeaway for a lot of people is going to be that the writers took this special, well-loved relationship and ripped it apart by making one of them a jealous, resentful, toxic creep. I can’t blame anyone for feeling upset or betrayed.

I can tell myself there was a point to all of this. I can tell myself they’ll pull Trish back from the edge, that she slipped, lost the plot, but that recovery is on the way, and she will make an honest effort to get better and be better and work to become her best self, which is the thing that makes a true hero. I can tell myself they’ll repair her relationship with Jessica, and the two of them will come out of this with a stronger, more healthy dynamic because they’ll finally openly address the ugly things that were festering. I can tell myself that, but I can’t trust it. 

I trusted the writers once already. I trusted them to treat Trish with compassion and kindness, even as they broke her down and took her to dark places. I trusted them to show a difficult, complicated but still ultimately affirming and unconditional love between her and Jessica. But they broke my trust. How can I have faith about what they’ll do next season? How can I believe they’ll lift Trish back up and mend things with Jessica instead of taking her down a path of outright villainy? Honestly, making her a villain seems about as likely as anything else at this point. So I can’t trust them, and because this show doesn’t follow a typical schedule, I also won’t even get to know what direction they’ll take for at least another two years. And it’s just not a good feeling to have to sit with. It sucks when you invest so much of yourself into something, and then the things that meant the most to you about it get pulled out from under you, and you can’t even trust that it’ll actually get better.