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thecarnivorousmuffinmeta · 3 years

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How do you think the Cullen's would have turned out if they lived their natural human lives and not forever frozen at an age / the state they were in? For example I think Carlisle would always be kind and tame but perhaps not as idealistic. Rose might grow bitter of the world since even if Royce didn't assault her I can't imagine he would be the loving husband she wanted. Edward, who watched his parents die and was dying himself, might not be as moody and miserable. Who knows about Jasper and Alice and Esme. Emmett would probably stay the same. Bella, if she never met the supernatural, probably would just be a quiet old soul but otherwise not mal adjusted. I can't even guess about Renesmee haha since she has no personality next to being ~inhumanly special.

I mean, sadly, we know the answer: they wouldn't be around very long and would have died miserably. There's no such thing as a natural human life, well, I suppose you can die of old age, but the fate of the Cullens didn't have that in store.

But let's get into it just the same.

Alice

Had James not come across Alice, she likely still would have been turned at some point by her maker, who seems to have been very fond of her. It was just a matter of time. The difference being that, instead of being a newborn completely on her own, her maker would have been there. This is an Alice very unlikely to see Jasper or the Cullens in her future, though who knows, Carlisle and her maker might very well cross paths someday due to the similarity of their work.

But I doubt Alice would ever end up on the diet.

For Alice to remain human, she can never have been sent to that asylum. In which case we have two options a) she's not sent to an asylum b) she's sent to a different asylum.

In the first case, Alice is more than likely murdered by her father. This is what got her sent off in the first place: she was running around town claiming that her father had murdered her mother and now planned to murder her. To shut the hysterical woman up, her father sent her to an insane asylum. Which effectively got her out of his life just as he wished.

If that didn't occur to him, then yes, Alice likely falls gravely ill or has some unfortunate accident that she cannot prevent.

Otherwise, Alice is sent to some other insane asylum, likely still loses all her memories due to electroshock therapy, and probably dies very young due to poor health conditions. The life she does live is utterly miserable.

Bella

Bella dies in a parking lot, she's hit by a truck out of control. Otherwise, Bella dies in Port Angeles, she's raped and her body abandoned in a dumpster. Otherwise, Bella is eaten by a vampire.

And if Bella miraculously survives all of that, I imagine her struggle with depression continues throughout high school and into college. In college, she may meet someone who catches her interest, in which case she becomes completely codependent on them for a sense of validation (as she did Edward and Jacob in canon).

The relationship is a toxic mess, ends in a very messy breakup, and Bella goes through her New Moon phase a bit later. She might finally get therapy and survive this very dangerous phase in her life, at which point, she finally starts the slow recovery from depression.

I imagine Bella will be struggling with depression though for all of her life and, if left untreated, it might very well kill her.

Carlisle

Had Carlisle not been turned this means the vampire likely drained him. Carlisle dies at the head of the mob, this sentences the other Cullens to death as well as now no one will turn them.

Let's say Carlisle wasn't as fast that day. He had a leg cramp, or something. Not being well in front of the others, he's not hit by the vampire first. This increases his chances of death, as the vampire seems to have killed the rest he took a bite of, but he could survive.

Carlisle lives with the haunting guilt that the one time he tracks down a true demon he brought death to his parish. Several died due to his actions, the demon got away, and now there's no sign of it. Carlisle completely and utterly failed.

This is probably the final straw for Carlisle. Demons exist, but they are beyond his capacity to hunt, this is a job for God and not mere mortal men. He stops the demon hunts, stops the witch hunts, and focuses himself strictly on helping the community and preaching.

He lives knowing his father would have continued to be sorely disappointed in everything he does.

Carlisle likely marries within a few years, now that his father is dead and he's the established head of the parish. He may or may not like his wife all that much, but he has a responsibility, and having a wife and children is one of those. I imagine that they either are somewhat fond of each other or quietly tolerate one another.

If Carlisle has a son, the son is trained as a priest, sent to seminary as he was, and set to inherit the parish. If he has only daughters, then it will be her husband who will inherit the parish.

When Carlisle dies he is likely remembered very fondly by the parish for the good he did for the community. No one talks about the demon hunting disaster. He's buried next to his father.

Edward

Edward dies of the Spanish Influenza in 1918.

Had he never caught it, and thus never come across Carlisle, I imagine he lives a somewhat ordinary life. He goes to university somewhere very well established, perhaps even one of the Ivy League schools, I can see him training to become a lawyer. He either joins his father's law firm or, if his father's not a lawyer, some law firm in Chicago where he does quite well for himself.

He probably courts then marries some affluent, well to do, woman who hits all the checkmarks he expects from society. They probably get on quite well.

The market then crashes in 1929, when Edward's only 29 years old, and Edward gets to live through the depression. Edward may be lucky enough to retain his wealthy, however, he very well could not have been. Edward is now unemployed, destitute, and miserable just like the rest of the country.

I imagine this is very hard on him, he becomes very bitter and resentful, and as he desperately tires to find work it just gets worse. Edward becomes mired in cynicism.

Then the war hits, Edward is now 41, and he's too old to enlist in the army. He feels a sense of nostalgic bitterness that, once again, he can't go fight the good fight and has to cheer from the sidelines. Nonetheless, the economy starts to recover thanks to the war, Edward recovers with it and things get better.

Edward lives his ordinary human life and, perhaps, lives to sometime in the 1990's.

Emmett

Emmett is eaten by bears.

Had he not happened to be in the mountains that day then, likely, some other unfortunate accident would have befallen him. He's a mountain man, that's a dangerous life.

He gets eaten by bears, eaten by mountain lions, injured somehow and then dies, hit by a tree that he cut down, there are so many possibilities.

If he does live to an older age then he becomes the gruff mountain man stereotype that we all know. I imagine he remains a very friendly, cheerful, man, probably marries some local girl and has a very large family.

Esme

Esme kills herself. With the death of her child, that was the path she chose, and had she not been turned she would have been successful.

However, had her child lived, I imagine her life would have continued on the path it was on. She would have been a single mother, working as a teacher, and raising her child.

They would have been poor, but Esme seemed determined to make this work, and was doing an excellent job at it.

Perhaps, in time, she would meet the right man and remarry. However, I think that would take a lot of time as the whole issue was that she was hung up on the ideal of Dr. Carlisle Cullen who she met when she was sixteen and never saw again.

Regardless, she's far more of a real person grounded in reality than Esme the vampire ever was.

Jasper

Had Jasper not come across Maria, he likely would have died in the war. Many, many, people died in the civil war, and Jasper would be far from alone in that.

If not, he would have returned to the ravaged south, and likely found himself facing unemployment and very difficult times for wherever he came from.

Jasper would likely pull through, we know he has lived through hell in canon and pulled through there, though changed for life by the horrors of the civil war that will now never quite leave him.

Renesmee

Renesmee is never born. Her father is a demon a hundred years older than her mother. There is no chance that Bella becomes pregnant with Edward's human child, let alone his vampire child.

If Bella does become pregnant with a vampire child, she's likely been raped by Joham. Bella dies in confusion and agony, Renesmee is born into this world utterly alone, is picked up by Serena, and becomes yet another sister of Nahuel's.

Renesmee lives the miserable life that all of Nahuel's siblings do.

Rosalie

Rosalie is gang raped to death by Royce and his friends and dies in agony in an alley. Had she not come across Royce that night then likely, after they marry, he at some point rapes her to death and murders her.

The likelihood of Rosalie, with her parent's ambitions and her looks, of not marrying Royce is very small.

Even then, Royce is in town in general, that means all she needed was one bad night. Which, in canon, she had.

However, let's say she lives and Royce wasn't interested in her hand, she marries option number two. As you note, her marriage still likely isn't fulfilling. Rosalie is there to be beautiful and poised, to have tea with the ladies in society, and watch as a governess raises her children.

This is the world she lives in, and she accepts that, but over time she becomes increasingly bitter and resentful of this thing we call life.

TL;DR Remember, there's no escape from the pit of despair we call Twilight

#twilight #twilight meta #twilight headcanon #twilight renaissance #the cullens #alice cullen #carlisle cullen #bella swan #edward cullen #esme cullen #emmett cullen #rosalie hale #jasper whitlock #rensemee cullen #bittemoi

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piedpiperslists · 3 years

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KSJ: Childhood / Old Friends to Lovers AU

List of all Seokjin fics under 'Childhood / Old Friends to Lovers' AU:

* s - contains smut

* Last updated: 26/11/2023

D R A B B L E S

[drabble] by soraviie childhood friends to lovers

A Promise by borathae childhood friends to lovers Summary: “I promise to one day return to this place and kiss the person I am going to marry underneath that weeping willow.”

Crutches and Crushes by joopiterjoon doctor!Seokjin Summary: Your clumsy ass breaks your foot and your old college crush happens to be the McDreamy fixing you up.

Family Friend’s Wedding by taleasnewastime reunion au

Just a Coffee by mind-of-a-hardstan s friends au Summary: Jin comes back to visit a few months after he moved away to study. You invite him over for coffee and naturally you end up talking for hours. And then you end up in his lap…

On My Pillow by ggukcangetit s Summary: You see him. You are lost for words. 6 years pass. You see him again. You are lost for words again. Stuff follows.

* Rewind by singguks childhood friends to lovers Summary: In which... childhood friends reunite in a serendipitous moment, sparking nostalgic memories, unspoken feelings, and the return of an irreplaceable bracelet.

“Seven” by eoieopda childhood friends au Summary: In which you can't recall Seokjin's name but you've still got love for him.

* This Love by yoongiphoria childhood friends to lovers Summary: They say that no one truly forgets their first love, and you’re grateful that you’ll never need to. That yours is good, alive and well, and back to stay.

O N E S H O T S

Best of Me by randombtsprincessa s wc~6.2k / childhood friends to lovers Summary: Jin has been in love with you since your childhood. As time passes and you become two different individuals, will his love be left behind in the past or will he have a chance?

Cherry Blossom Avenue by scriptaed wc~23k / old friends to lovers Summary: College would’ve been unbearable if it weren’t for your wallowing sessions with your best friend Jin over a shared “forever alone” woe, so it really was only a matter of time until the two of you sealed a shoddy promise to betroth the other at the age of 27. Perhaps it was only a silly joke to you then, but you should’ve known better nonetheless; because when a wedding invitation arrives five years later down the road with his name signed next to another’s, feelings that were once buried begin to blossom once again.

Heart of Gold (Blades of Ice) by ve1vetyoongi s wc~20k / hockey player!Seokjin, figure skater!reader, childhood friends to lovers Summary: After a fall during figure skating practice dashes your dreams of competing at nationals, you vow to hang up your skates for good. That is until you cross paths with Kim Seokjin, captain of the ice hockey team, who is determined to get you back out on the rink and melt the ice in your heart.

I Don't Think I'm Okay by ressjeon s wc~4k / childhood friends to lovers Summary: With many chances wasted, you couldn’t even resist anymore.

I Waited for You by untaemedqueen s wc~11k / childhood friends to lovers, werewolf au Summary: You were moving back to your parents house after they passed away, your next door neighbor Jin couldn’t live there anymore, could he?

In the Eye of the Storm by 7deadlysinsfics s wc~11.9k / childhood friends to lovers Summary: After finding a naked woman in your boyfriends bed, your best friend offers you her beachside inn for the week as a way for you to relieve your heartache by keeping busy while she’s away for a family event out of the country. What you weren’t expecting was a man—who had previously canceled his stay at the inn—to show up along with a storm no one knew was coming.

Lacuna by magicalsalamander s wc~21k / childhood friends to lovers, werewolf au Summary: You are well equipped at handling whatever life throws at you. You had worked hard to erase the past and mold a new you, and the future were to become a lawyer. Well, everything was planned expect for your ex best friend who came back into your life like a crashing gavel. Just when you thought you could deal with his presence, he was now your partner on a case that was bigger than you had ever imaged.

Name of the Game by ggukcangetit s wc~14.2k / Anastasia au Summary: The Hotel -Strange, The Manager - Far Too Charming, The Situation - Dire, The One in Trouble - You.

Say So by jincherie s wc~24.5k / ft KNJ, musician!Seokjin, musician!Namjoon, burlesque dancer!reader, childhood friends to lovers, 1950s au, polyamory au Summary: Returning to your hometown for a week is something you’ve managed to avoid for three years, but when you can finally put it off no longer you find upon arrival the very thing you were scared of encountering. When the two famous childhood friends you haven’t spoken to in years have returned at the same time as you, you can’t quite tell whether you’re going to be able to make it out in one piece or emerge with a heart more wounded than before. Especially since it turns out the feelings you thought you were over never quite went away.

Thank You, Daddy by ktheist s wc~19k / CEO!Seokjin, sugar daddy au Summary: The last time you saw Seokjin was when he went off to college and never looked back. Uncle Kim, a friend of your father who treated you like his own daughter, would complain about his estranged son whenever he came to visit in the new year and got drunk and turned into a pathetic sobbing mess. That scared the fuck out of you because who knew old people could look so ugly when they’re crying over their child whom they neglected for the most part of his life? Well, that child grew up into a fine young man. Fine enough to afford a sugar baby.

The Pretenders by tayegi s wc~12.3k / old friends to lovers, werewolf au

The Truth Untold by vminity21 s wc~22.3k / single mom!reader, old friends to lovers Summary: When a job opportunity arises in the hometown you left seven years ago, you return with the gift that was never made known to the one person who hasn’t left your mind. Despite the love interest tugging on your heartstrings, you wonder where he may be; tired of suppressing the guilt for hiding the biggest secret you have ever withheld. Now, after all this time, the truth is approaching much sooner than you anticipate, and the untold story of why you left will soon be revealed.

Truth or Dare by sugarwithtea wc~6.3.k / ex-friends to lovers Summary: You and Seokjin meet each other again at a college reunion, him igniting the feelings of first love inside you after not meeting him for 4 years after an unexpected seperation. He still doesn't know the reason for it and you have never dared to tell him the truth. Maybe this time, you play the game courageously. Maybe not. Who knows?

T W O S H O T S / S E R I E S

A Woman of a Certain Age by vyduan s childhood friends to lovers, idol au Summary: Y/N has known Seokjin since he was born. She has even helped change Seokjinnie’s diapers. Growing apart when Y/N went to the U.S. for college, Seokjin runs into Y/N when she is hired by Big Hit as a top consultant. Sparks fly despite Seokjin nursing a broken heart and Y/N trying to make partner at her firm. Will this noona ever see Seokjin as the man he now is?

Charming by taeken-my-heart fantasy au, Snow White au Summary: Prince Seokjin was as infuriating as he was beautiful. In line to one day be king, he requested your guidance in the ways of his people. In turn he will make you laugh, give your family fine gifts, and become an invaluable friend. Unfortunately, he will also make you fall in love with him. But the most unfortunate thing of all was his betrothal…to Snow White.

Hideaway by bonvoyagenoona s CEO!Seokjin, assistant!reader, childhood friends to lovers Summary: Only the respected patriarch of the Kim dynasty thinks you are worth anything. Despite his vision, the rest of the upper crust sees you as nothing more than your station, a girl borne of a family that only ever existed to serve them. Cruelly, the only thing standing in your way is also the key to your success: having to take care of a smiley, goofy, lanky, drunk manchild in ill-fitting clothes who just happens to be next in line for the throne, and who has just inadvertently kidnapped you. The next three days with Kim Seokjin will make or break you.

Hit Play by hamsterclaw s medical student!Seokjin, old friends to lovers Summary: You met Seokjin during a difficult time in your life, and seeing him again now reminds you of it.

River Lead Me Home by crystaljins childhood friends to lovers, fantasy au Summary: Ever since coming to the human realm when you were child, nothing seems to fit, and this was just supposed to be a simple roadtrip to help you find yourself. Is that too much to ask for?

#ksj list #seokjin fic

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harmonyandco · 4 years

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Dumbledore’s arrogance and cockiness costs Harry his freedom when the old man who has no idea about how law works tried to represent him in the trial where Harry had to prove his innocence and why he had to resort to using underage magic when attacked by Dementors.

A distraught Hermione is angry and so channels all her energy into finding any means to help Harry and with Sirius’s enormous Gringotts account backing her, she hires the best lawyers in the Wizarding World to represent Harry.

It’s when the lawyers meet Harry in Azkaban and check Privet Drive that they stumble upon an obstacle that Dumbledore’s meddling created. The Blood wards that Dumbledore’s placed at 4, Privet Drive can help prove Harry’s innocence as the ward stone upon which the Blood wards are anchored can prove that Dementors had indeed been in the vicinity and attacked Harry, even though the wards couldn’t protect Harry from them since the creatures were never configured as one of the threats when the stone was placed. The catch - only someone who’s related to Harry and is magical can create a copy of the records of the stone and with no magical relatives alive anymore, Harry’s innocence is not gonna be easy to prove.

When Hermione learns of the obstacle she is heartbroken and shared the same with Sirius who in a moment of anger and despair blurts out how he’d have revelled in the olden ways now if only they could be used.

When Hermione asks what that means Sirius reveals how in the olden days, even amongst wizards and witches in Britain arranged marriages were normal, especially as a means to ally with powerful families.

Hermione asks him then how did he plan to use the same and he reveals that since he’s Harry’s godfather and his parents aren’t alive anymore, he has the authority to marry Harry off to any witch he chooses and that’s when Hermione has an idea and even as Sirius is poleaxed by her dedication and devotion to Harry he’s nonetheless pleased.

Two days after his lawyers had visited him, Harry’s surprised to find Hermione on the island of Azkaban come to visit him. His surprise is further heightened when they are escorted to the deepest room of the fortress where he stops feeling the effects of the Dementors for the first time.

Harry’s embarrassed but he weeps as Hermione hugs him and then he’s shocked when he realises that the room they had been taken to has only one piece of furniture - a bed.

Hermione takes his hand and guided Harry on the bed and then summoning all her Gryffindor courage she kisses Harry, who is shocked by her move.

When he asks her what she’s doing, she finally reveals to him that she’s allowed to visit him not as his best friend but in her capacity as his wife. And she reveals how being a Muggleborn and the only magical person in her family, she had the agency to decide what she wanted when it came to her marriage prospect and Sirius being his godfather had the authority for Harry. They wanted him out of this place and the only way for that was for them to be able to prove Harry’s innocence.

Thus, she signed a marriage contract and Sirius did so as Harry’s godfather and hence now she’s married to him. She’s here to consummate their marriage and has been allowed a day of conjugal visit with her husband. T

Harry’s shocked and shaken by the lengths Hermione is willing to go for him but still feels guilty about what she had to do and doesn’t feel right about consummating this marriage which would forever bind them as the particular contract that Sirius created for them was based on the Black family’s which were always about permanent matches.

When she sees Harry is being too noble for his own good, Hermione once again summons her inner Gryffindor and strips herself naked in front of him.

At his heart, Harry is still a teenager and a very naked girl in front of him, asking him to bed her is too much for his 15 year old self and less than ten minutes later, Harry is buried in Hermione as they lose their virginities and he claims her for his wife, over and over again. Neither bothers to dress again and by the next day Harry and Hermione’s marriage is truly and absolutely consummated, so much so that she has trouble walks and must move gingerly. Though it brings a smile and blush over her face every time she feels the pleasant ache between her legs.

Hermione is then taken to 4, Privet Drive by Remus and within minutes she’s able to collect the relevant material from the ward stone as Harry’s wife.

The next day Harry is released from prison and proven innocent; his BWL status helping accelerate his trial even faster and the evidence being so solid that it’s undeniable.

Harry is quickly taken to Grimmauld Place and even as he loses his faith in Dumbledore, he knows he’s found something far better.

For the next few weeks that they’re at the place before school starts again, Harry makes sure that he’s thoroughly thanked Hermione, his wife, for always being by his side by worshiping every inch of her body over and over again. The few days he spent in Azkaban were the worst of his life, but Hermione was as determined to give him pleasant memories as he was to give her pleasure.

submitted by Mikelle

#submission #harmony prompt #harmony #Mikelle #harry x hermione #azkaban #harry in prison #dumbledore bashing #au #OOtP

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prurientpuddlejumper · 4 years

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Out Tonight (Part 6)

K!nktober 2020 Kink Bingo!: Nipple Play

<- Part 5

Summary: Backstory, Spanish lessons, and finally some sober sex! 🥳 (This chapter is very NSFW/18+)

For @thatesqcrush’s Kink Bingo challenge! And with this, I finally finish a row!

5,420 words

The twenty-minute coffee date Rafael Barba had been dreading somehow turned into hours without him realizing it. The summer morning passed quickly until the sun was at its zenith above the turtle pond, and all of the work-related responsibilities he would have been grinding himself to death on had slipped his mind as he wandered through the park with your hand in his.

It turned out that you did have a few things in common. You both grew up in the Bronx. Though when you told him where, he snorted and joked, “What is an upstanding young lady from Spuyten Duyvil doing with a boy from the projects?”

Your jaw dropped when he told you what neighborhood he grew up in. It was an area you were familiar with mainly as a place to avoid, especially, god forbid, at night. The clean-cut lawyer in a sharp suit did not look anything like what you’d expect from the poverty he came from. You just assumed his family was wealthy.

“That’s incredible,” you said, a new surge of admiration for him stoking the fire of your attraction. You scooted closer on the shaded bench beneath a tall oak you’d stopped to sit on, your bare leg pressing against his slacks. You still hadn’t kissed, everything just barely skirting the romantic. The touch of his hand shot electricity through your skin, just from his fingers brushing yours. Neither of you wanted to push things too far, too fast, considering the guilt still lingering between you. “You must be a genius.”

Instead of boasting with the sly, cocky grin you had learned was among his favorite facial expressions, he grew serious, all but a trace of a smile leaving his lips. “I just worked hard,” he said.

“Really hard,” you said, knowingly, squeezing his hand. “Even people who work hard, who are smart… it’s almost impossible to escape that kind of poverty. The fact that you did it is…”

His inquisitive eyes, matching the foliage behind him, were strained as if deciding whether to share something or not. But he did, quietly. “I still work hard. Every day. It feels like if I make one false step, everything could fall apart. But, I have enough to support my mother.”

“And an impressive collection of ties,” you chimed.

He smirked, lifting your hand to casually press a kiss to the back of your knuckles. “And suspenders.”

Your pulse raced. Looking up and down this flawlessly stylish man, it all made sense. “Dressed to kill,” you muttered. “You wear it like a disguise.”

He frowned, the warmth leaving his eyes. You had touched a nerve. “Would it be a disguise if you wore it, or just because I’ll always be poor deep down?”

“I didn’t mean—OK, I get how that sounded. I just mean… you are exceptionally attractive. Like, really attractive. I mean, why am I telling you? You know that. Look at you.” You continued the obsequious flattery until a sarcastic smile appeared in the corner of his lips. “You know, actually,” you admitted, “I only grew up in a good neighborhood because my dad re-married rich. The weeks I was with my mom… she worked three jobs just to support me and a crummy apartment. I could never actually count on what the step-family would pay for, so sometimes I rode on boats with rich people, and sometimes I lived off canned pasta. It was weird.”

He looked at you appraisingly as he assimilated this new tidbit of information. “It isn’t easy, straddling two worlds.”

“Except you worked your ass off to break into one, and I ran away into the woods and got really into trees. Trees don’t judge you for not fitting in.”

“I’m sorry for judging you,” he whispered, his voice turning surprisingly tender. He lifted a hand and gently brought it to your cheek. You closed your eyes as it made contact, his palm warm against your skin, the pad of his thumb soft as it began stroking your cheek. You leaned forward, and he closed the remaining distance, his lips capturing yours, slow and sweet. It was chaste at first, and careful, but neither of you wanted to break it, and as it continued, his arms wrapped around the small of your back and your shoulder, drawing you in deeper as his heady scent enveloped you, the taste of coffee on his tongue as his lips parted.

“Barba?”

Rafael practically jumped out of your arms as an inquisitive voice called his name, leaving you kissing the air. The voice belonged to a tall brunette woman pushing a toddler along in a stroller.

“Liv!” he practically shrieked in alarm, straightening himself.

You looked between them and the kid, and felt like such an idiot. “Oh my god, you are cheating!”

Liv gave you a look, and burst out laughing. “Sorry, sorry, nothing like that. I’m Sergeant Benson, SVU,” she extended you a firm handshake and explained, “I work with Barba on a lot of cases.” She turned back to Barba with an amused smirk. “I didn’t mean to interrupt your date, I just couldn’t believe my eyes. Counselor, I didn’t realize you had a personal life.”

“It’s a new thing I’m trying. How’s Noah?”

“He’s perfect,” she smiled, cooing at the curly-haired child. “He loves the turtles, so we’re going down to the pond. Beautiful day for a nature walk.”

“She knows every tree,” Barba volunteered, puffing his chest out with the same cockiness he used to talk about himself, tipping his head at you. “Go ahead, test her.”

“I’ll take your word for it,” Liv said, bemused. She gave a polite nod and a reminder that she still owed Barba a coffee for some legal thing he had come through on (which only gave you a slight pang of jealousy), and then waved goodbye, walking down the path toward the water.

You sat in silence, recovering. Barba was obviously scandalized to have been caught in a compromising position by a colleague, the tips of his ears turning red. You were glad she wasn’t his wife, but didn’t love having to suddenly confront the fact that he had an entire social life you knew absolutely nothing about. It sort of ruined the intimacy of the moment, tearing the cardboard moon out of your sky too soon.

Barba broke the silence first with a low, drawn-out groan. He turned to you, his eyes soft but flashing with passion, taking your hands in his again. “If we start seeing each other… there is a good chance you will get to know Liv in some capacity.” He closed his eyes and drew a deep breath, and on the exhale beseeched, “You cannot tell her how we met.”

The earnestness with which he implored you, holding both your hands, made you burst out laughing. He did a poor job hiding his smile as he watched you double over. When you finally contained yourself, you pecked an innocent kiss to his lips. “We can say we met at a bar. We don’t have to mention all the, uh...” Karaoke. Drunken shenanigans. Dubious consent. Whatever you call we-didn’t-have-penis-in-vagina-sex-but-you-fingered-me-until-we-orgasmed. He grimaced with you as you both recalled all of the things you would not be telling anyone about your meet-cute. Then you started remembering his fingers gliding in and out of you, his hungry lips marking up your skin, and a warm shiver ran down your back. He swallowed, seeing the lustful heaviness creep into your eyes and responding with his own.

He nearly kissed you again, wrapping you in a passionate embrace that would have hastened you to a bedroom, but you pulled back. He said “seeing each other.” You thought this was a fun fling with no strings attached, and the idea that he was already thinking about more made your heart sink with guilt. “I should tell you...”

You never got to finish your thought. Liv had only gotten fifty feet when her phone rang. She was yelling into it frantically, demanding answers. Barba’s phone buzzed with an incoming message. Liv stormed back up the path, waving to him. “There’s been a… development,” she said, censoring the case details in your presence. “They need me at the precinct. You’re probably going to want to come, too.”

“I believe I am already being summoned,” he replied, checking his phone.

“Good. I need to call the sitter. Please let everyone know I’m on my way.” She hurried off, and any hint of flirtation was gone from Barba’s eyes as he stood, fully back in cold lawyer mode as he made a phone call, then another to order a Lyft.

He was already walking with quick, purposeful steps toward the nearest exit of the park when he hung up his last call and turned back to you apologetically. You had been trailing behind him, unsure if he wanted you to follow, and didn’t miss that you were an afterthought. But his regret was sincere. And the truth was, you didn’t mind this serious version of Barba at all—the sober Barba who poured his soul into getting justice and would forget a date he had been enjoying the instant duty called—because you’d seen the drunk version who fell apart, sobbing in your arms when he let down the victims. He had a hard side and a soft side, and so far, there was nothing about him that you didn’t like.

Oh god, you had a crush on him.

“I’m sorry, I have to go. It’s an emergency,” he explained, brow furrowed heavily over yearning green eyes.

Oh god, this was only supposed to be a one-night stand. Maybe a few nights, but a stand nonetheless. How dare he look at you like that?

“It’s alright. It sounds important,” you half smiled.

“Can I call you later?” he asked. His hands were shoved into his pockets, and he had none of the confident swagger usually in his voice. It was a small, hopeful sort of question that told you there were real emotional stakes to your answer.

Oh god, did he have a crush on you, too? Did you have a crush on each other? This was terrible!

Drawn in as if by a magnetic pull, you closed the short distance, threaded your hands between his arms and body, and clasped them together behind his back. His lips quirked as his confidence returned. His hands cupped the sides of your face, then his mouth crashed against yours, fired with all of the passion of desire realized and reciprocated, relief, and longing. It was the type of kiss that would have been drawn out and sensual if it hadn’t been condensed by necessity into a hurried goodbye. You were out of breath and overheated when he broke it, seconds later.

“I’ll be waiting,” you breathed. He gave a hungry growl and a sharp, promising stare that sent a jolt of pleasure straight to your core before running to catch his ride.

***

Barba hated intelligent psychopaths. Even after they’d been put away, there was always some new appeal to fight, a new witness to come forward, some clever misdirection to cast their crimes into doubt. He’d been running around since noon working out deals with witnesses, obtaining warrants, and warning Liv’s detectives that they were being played. Now the sun was hanging low in the sky, and he realized he had never heard Carmen’s futile warning for him to go home already because his secretary didn’t work on weekends when he was pulling overtime. It was just him and his headache.

The time. What time was it?

He sat bolt upright in his leather office chair and groped for his phone. There was a notification from you from an hour ago that he vaguely recalled hearing buzz.

“How’s the emergency?”

He cursed and checked the time. It was getting late. Too late to make a reservation at any of the swankier restaurants he could take you. But he called you anyway, and was delighted when you answered.

“Hey. It’s Barba,” he said.

“I know,” said your amused voice on the other end of the line. “Your contact is in my phone, Sexy Karaoke Lawyer.”

He groaned in a way that was secretly a laugh. “Alright, Lorax. Are you free tonight? I’d like to take you to dinner. Actually, I thought I could make dinner. At my place?”

You gasped with mock scandalization. “Is this a booty call, Mr. Barba?”

He choked. “No. I just—” He stopped stammering when you started cackling like a grinning idiot, and his voice dropped low. “What if it is?”

The sudden shift in confidence caught you off guard, and he heard you swallow. “Then I’ll be there.”

***

It had been ages since he’d had time to make his abuelita’s costillas de puerco recipe. Or rather, it had been ages since he’d made time, considering he hardly had the time to do it now. He rushed through the corner deli at lightning pace to pick up what he needed, and rushed through prep, knowing you’d be over in less than an hour.

He had no idea why he felt such a drive to impress you. Why he needed to see you again so soon when you’d spent hours by his side that morning. The entire short time he had known you had been strange, anxiety-inducing, and guilt-ridden, but instead of hating you, he found himself wanting more.

The truth he didn’t want to admit was, every interaction with you, no matter how awkward, had been underscored by a potent sexual chemistry, and at the moment, he was nothing but a horny teenage boy who wanted to get laid.

That was all. This was some mid-forties hormonal resurgence. Madre de dios, it was a midlife crisis.

Or maybe this was what happened when he stopped getting in his own way. He’d spent years nursing a broken heart, years that turned into decades guarding himself against anyone getting too close. He never thought he’d feel this way again for somebody new. It was too late in life to meet someone who would know him as well as his childhood friends from el barrio, and they were all married by now. But he’d opened himself up just an inch, just for a night, by mistake, and let someone see past the hard, cynical facade, and now he wanted you to know him. He wanted to know you. He wanted to see how this ended. Maybe this was a revelation.

His heart jumped in his chest at the buzz of the door intercom.

***

“Hola, Rafael,” you greeted, and he grinned at the way you pronounced his name with the correct accent. “Oh my gosh, what smells amazing?”

He stood aside and nodded you in. The apartment was tiny, as most city apartments are, but tidy and well decorated. You were immediately drawn to the sturdy dining room table made of solid burl, and admired the natural chaotic pattern of the grain.

“It needs fifteen more minutes,” he said, observing with amusement how you completely ignored the good silver he’d broken out and started stroking the wood.

“What ever shall we do to pass the time?” you pouted innocently. Barba growled low in his throat, cupping a hand around your hip to draw you close, and you responded by pressing your hips flush against his, smiling lustily. Well, you had more or less agreed that dinner was a pretense for a booty call—no reason not to get right to it.

You hadn’t changed, but he was wearing a more casual wine-colored cashmere sweater, and you ran your hand up it, relishing the velvet softness under your palm as well as the shape of his chest. His lips met yours hot and searching, but didn’t stop there. They trailed over the side of your mouth, kissing down your jaw. He pressed wet, hungry kisses along your neck, and you moaned as his tongue lapped over the soft underside of your throat, his hands gliding over your hips. He pulled back by an inch. “Are you sure… you want this?” he murmured.

“God yes,” you moaned with your lips in his perfect salt-and-pepper hair, arousal raising your temperature as your body responded to his touch. “You haven’t been drinking this time?”

“Not a drop,” he replied huskily, somehow making it sound lewd as he resumed kissing the crook of your neck, and over your shoulder. You curled your fingers through his hair, and backed you up until your legs hit the edge of the table, and rested your weight against it, enjoying the feeling of being pinned as you angled your pelvis to grind against his growing erection.

“Oh, Rafa...” you moaned. “Can I call you Rafa?” you asked, not sure if the nickname was too personal. With the emotional baggage of your first night together, you hadn’t been sure if being on a first-name basis was respectful enough.

“You can call me anything you want,” he purred, his teeth gently pinching your shoulder.

You made a deep, chesty noise, sinfully considering that. “Don’t give me such broad permission, or you might regret it… papi.”

He groaned, and you felt his cock kicking against your cunt. Bunching up your skirt over your hips, you rocked your hips against him, panting just from feeling the strength of his arousal through his clothes. “Yes,” he hissed softly, holding you firmly against him as he worked his clothed erection against your panties, growing more excited with every mewl and shudder it drew from your lips. “That night was… moronic… but I remember the way I felt… how much I wanted you.” He turned his head and sucked a light bruise into your neck. “Do you still feel that way?”

You dipped your head to coax him back to your mouth, his pink lips wet with saliva as your tongue tasted them. “I wanted you to fuck me so bad,” you groaned, jerking your hips for emphasis on the word fuck. “But your fingers are very skilled… and your mouth...” You kissed him again, and felt his hand reach between your legs to slide your panties off.

His fingers paused halfway down the elastic. “Is this moving too fast?” he panted, suddenly trying to be reasonable. The kind of thing you would worry about if you were building a long-term relationship.

“Shh,” you hushed him gently. “I don’t want to think about too fast or too slow, or how different our lives are, or what’s going to happen after tonight. We’re just two strangers having fun. Can’t it just be that?”

He kissed you so softly, then. So tenderly that he could only have been subliminally trying to convince you of something more. His heart drummed with possessive affection; he already knew he wanted more than just tonight. At least the primitive, reckless part of him that didn’t overthink and over-plan every decision did. The rational part of him and the part that would say anything to please you came to an accord as he nodded, lips moving against your skin, “It can be.”

You grabbed his wrist and helped him slip your underwear the rest of the way off, stepping out of them and kicking them aside. His fingers didn’t immediately plunge themselves into your drenched folds, and his hips didn’t immediately return to grind against your wetness. His intelligent, cocky green eyes gave you a probing stare.

“Y qué quieres hacer esta noche?” he purred, low and seductive, giving you a choice.

“Oh, papi, me encanta cuándo hablas español. I want you to do anything you want to me. Anything,” you moaned, fairly certain that, with one or two exceptions, you really meant it. This man turned you on in ways you’d never experienced. There was nothing you wouldn’t try if he wanted it, and you knew he’d stop the second you asked, which made you feel bolder.

He chuckled. “Don’t give me such broad permission, dulce naturalista.”

The promise of mischief in his voice made you shiver, your cunt dripping. “Anything, papi. I just… want to know that you want me.”

He hummed. “This dress, this flimsy thing,” he hooked his index fingers through the narrow shoulder straps and tugged. “Did you know I’ve been staring at it all day, thinking about doing this?” He pulled the front down, just by a few inches, and freed your nipples. He dipped his head, and you gasped as he took one in his mouth.

“Oh god, it feels so good,” you whined as he began to suck, rolling the other between his thumb and forefinger. It was like he had a direct connection to your clit. He wasn’t even touching you there, but a hot pressure began to build between your legs as he devoured your sensitive nipples.

Then he suddenly released, your hard peak popping out of his mouth with a wet sound, and you whined for him not to stop. “Tu no dominas el español, verdad?” he asked.

“Qué?” you blurted, confused, but answering his question by not understanding it.

“I didn’t think so,” he said, a devilish look in his eyes. “You need practice, so I’ve decided I’ll only give you what you want if you say it in Spanish.”

“Pero… Qué pasa si… yo no sé… how to say it in Spanish?” You did want to learn more dirty talk, but this game didn’t seem fair. You wanted him to keep sucking your tits.

“You said I could do anything I wanted...” he reminded you, bringing his hand back to one of your breasts and kneading it tormentingly slowly. “Si no lo sabes, intenta. Practica, practica, practica.”

You wondered if this was some sort of dominance thing, or if he just liked watching you struggle with his native language. It was a bit exciting, though, you had to admit. Your pulse was racing with a mixture of arousal and embarrassment, because you genuinely had no idea how to say what you wanted. “Mis… pechos? Tu lengua. Por favor.” you pointed from his mouth to your breasts.

“Por favor, chupa mis pezones,” he corrected. “Repite.” You repeated it, and before you’d finished the last syllable, he replied, “Con gusto,” and began stimulating your nipples to the point of torture with his nimble lawyer’s tongue.

“Oh god,” you whimpered, your voice high and pleading, “It feels so good.” You bucked your hips into his and curled your fingers around the back of his head trying to force him to keep going, but he pulled back.

“En español,” he chided.

“En serio?!” you complained, but he simply watched you with his eyebrows quirked, waiting. “Me siento bien?” you tried. He smiled approvingly and lowered his sultry mouth to your skin again, flicking your hardened peak while pinching it between his lips. This time he pushed his hips back against yours so you could feel the heat of his erection on your pussy, and it sent new waves of electricity coursing through your body, which was already heaving just with the attention to your breasts. “Por favor, más... Oh god, yes,” you whimpered.

“Qué sabor muy rica, tu piel,” he murmured, muffled in your skin. “You taste delicious.” The vibrations from his speech tore a choked whimper from your lips, and you bucked your hips against his cock.

You bit down on your lower lip, fighting your rising climax even as you lifted one leg, wrapping it over his hip, to hasten it. “I’m gonna—oh god, you’re going to make me come just from this!”

“Voy a venir,” he coached you in a firm, teacher-like voice that nearly made you double over with arousal. “O puedes decir, ‘Me vas a poner a venir.’”

“M-me pon… ah!” he lightly nipped at your sensitive peak, turning the rest of what you were trying to say into helpless babble. “Please, please fuck me… oh god.” Before he could correct you, you remembered what he’d taught you in the bar right before begging you to leave with him so he could fuck your brains out. “Dámelo duro, papi.”

His whole body shuddered as he took in a shaking breath, but sober Barba never lost control until he decided to surrender it. As much as he wanted to fuck you, he was having too much fun teasing you. “You could also say, ‘Quiero que me coges,’” he explained academically, and you growled with frustration, writhing under him, your cunt seeking purchase against his cock. “If you’re going to speak a language, you’ve got to practice it,” he said, his voice far too calm and even for the circumstance, even with its wicked undertone.

“Dámelo! Por favor! Dáme tu pinga!” you begged frantically, rapid-firing off every way to ask for his cock that you could think of. You reached between your bodies and grasped his engorged sex through his tightened pants and stroked him hard from balls to tip. Your efforts were rewarded with an involuntary whine, Barba’s hips jerking forward.

“Me rindo,” he whimpered in surrender. His breath was ragged and he looked ready to fall apart. You purred with victory, but as you slowed the furious pace of your stroking, he recovered enough of his senses to smirk through his lust. “Pero primero, quiero saborearte.” His voice was thick, and his eyes dark as a tropical storm on a Caribbean island. He lifted the leg you’d wrapped around him up onto the table, and knelt beneath you. “Con tu permiso?”

You nodded, gasping sharply even before his tongue made contact with your soaked pussy just from the obscene expression on his face as he opened his mouth and extended the point of his tongue as he slowly leaned toward you. Your hands braced behind you on the table for support. Then you cried out loud when that tongue did hit you, slightly cold from the air, but quickly warming to match you as his mouth closed over your whole cunt. “Ah, que rica,” he sighed into your pussy, lapping at your slippery arousal with broad, languid strokes of his tongue, unhurried, as if he were aiming for no particular goal but to enjoy your flavor. “So wet for papi. Qué buena estudiante eres. Good students should be rewarded.”

He finally stood back up to his full height in front of you and removed his pants and underwear, letting them fall around his ankles, and his cock sprang free. You gaped down at it in awe. “Oh god, look at that cock,” you practically drooled. You automatically reached down and started stroking it, babbling on about what a thick, beautiful cock it was. He was too lost in the touch of your fingers wrapped around his shaft to even complain that it wasn’t Spanish.

“Ah, condoms!” he interjected before pushing himself inside you like every muscle in his body was screaming to do. “I’ve got some in the bedroom.”

You chewed your lip, not sure if this would come off the wrong way since he wanted to be responsible, but you slowly said, “We don’t need to use one if you don’t want. I’m on the pill, and I don’t have any STDs.”

His stormy eyes pierced into you, clearly tempted, but he couldn’t help remarking cynically, “If you give me a disease, I swear...”

“I’m afraid I don’t have my medical records on me, so I understand if you don’t want to take my word for it. I don’t know why I’m blindly trusting you.” That was a lie. Everything about Rafael Barba screamed precision, caution, and consent, and even after such a short time knowing him, you were absolutely certain he would never put you at risk. In fact, there was no way he’d ever have unprotected sex with a stranger.

Except his very next words were, “Fuck it,” and he hooked his arm under your elevated leg, and began rubbing his thick cock through your folds, coating it with your slick arousal. “You are absolutely sure you want this?” he looked at you with soft, understanding eyes, checking for any doubts.

You let out a needy whine, rolling your hips to rub your pussy against the tip of his fat cock. “Te quiero,” you whimpered, intending to say you wanted it, but his cheeks reddened and his heart flipped as you said something better translated as I love you.

You wouldn’t realize your mistake until much later, thinking back on it, or understand why his face was suddenly frozen between tenderness and panic, and then dawning realization, relief, and a small, barely noticeable wince of disappointment.

He entered you slowly, letting you feel every inch of stretch from his cock. Like the rest of his build, it was not the longest you had ever seen, but it was impressively girthy, and each blissful inch he worked you open brought the slightest fraying edge of pain. He knew his size could be a challenge, and was practiced at preparing, and patience. You were already so dripping wet, you didn’t need extra lube, though he had it on standby, and watched you carefully, pausing to let you rest every time he advanced. As he waited, feeling your walls relax to accept him, he ducked his head to your breasts, savoring the helpless squeals you made when he gave attention to what he learned was one of your most sensitive erogenous zones. Every time he flicked his tongue over your nipple or sucked its hardened peak into his mouth, your cunt twitched around him and your back arched to take more of him. It worked so well, he never stopped teasing your breasts, and your silent cries of, “Oh god, oh god, oh god, oh god!” grew in intensity until you were screaming with pleasure, fist clenched in his hair as you held him to your chest, and his balls were pressed tight against your ass.

Panting hard and moaning into your breasts, he began to thrust, slowly at first, but you wrapped your legs around his back and used them as leverage to buck your hips into him, pushing back into each of his thrusts, deepening them and coaxing him to increase his pace. As you angled your hips, he began hitting a deep point inside that made your legs turn to jelly. “Dámelo bien duro,” you tried to say, but it mostly came out as unintelligible gasps and whimpers. His mouth never left your tits and you loved the angle it gave you, being able to watch his face, strained with concentration and clouded with lust, and his tongue working diligently to bring you to a climax that took you off guard with how suddenly it crashed over you. You couldn’t say there was no buildup to it, because you had been in throes since he first pulled down your dress, but he had barely begun to thrust when the heat coiling in your lower back suddenly tightened and snapped, shooting sparks behind your eyelids. “Ah—Rafa!” you wailed, squeezing your fingers in his hair.

He gasped, releasing the globe of your breast from his mouth at the wracking of your body in his arms. Your pussy convulsed, clenching tightly around his cock, coating it in your sweet release, almost too tight for him to thrust through. One more jerk of his hips through your rippling, fluttering muscles and he let out a string of swears, and you felt his abdominal muscles tense up against your belly. He pulled back and thrust into you once more, balls swinging against your ass, and his hot seed flooded you. He panted, trembling, still trying to hold onto you, though halfway sitting on a dining table without knocking off any of the plates was not the most ideal location for post-coital recovery cuddling. He grabbed a few paper napkins from behind you to catch the drippings as he pulled out.

It was over too fast, a testament to how long it had been for him. Both of you, really. But you weren’t disappointed. He made you come almost entirely with that silver tongue of his, and you were still shaking too much to take your weight off the table and put it on your legs.

The timer on the oven rang shrilly, announcing dinner was done.

“After dinner,” he promised, pulling his pants back on. “Quiero más de tu cuerpo.”

You were satisfied, but not yet sated, and looked forward to round two.

• ● • ━━━━━─ ••●•• ─━━━━━ • ● •

@beccabarba / @caked-crusader / @itsjustmyfantasyroom / @thatesqcrush / @dianilaws / @permanentlydizzy / @mrsrafaelbarba / @da-po / @madamsnape921 / @charlottegrice / @onerestein

#Rafael Barba x Reader #Rafael Barba #Raúl Esparza #rafael barba x female reader #my writing #thatesqcrush kink bingo #thatesqcrush

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t-lostinworlds · 4 years

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The Devil All The Time: A Review That No One Asked For

Well, I don’t know why I’ve been putting this off but here I am 48 hours later. Though the fact that I’m still thinking about the movie two days later is proof how long it stays with you right after you watch it. By all means, I’m not an expert reviewer aha so this maybe all over the place but: It is a good movie. It wasn’t perfect of course, the flow could’ve been a tad bit better, and the narrator threw me off sometimes, a few missing bits in terms of the characters but it’s still good nonetheless. I do want to point out that the movie wasn’t as dark and brutal as how the book went. It wasn’t a graphic or gore as I’d expected it because some critics did overplay it. So, if you’ve read the book, the movie will come off as a much lighter tone. Also, if you watched GoT, then you’ll be fine with the gore. But with that said, there are still triggering scenes so people should still be mindful when watching. A couple of changes but that’s a given with every book adaptation but there were a few that I thought was better in the movie than in the book, which I will get more into in a sec because I’ll try and keep this other half spoiler free.

The visuals, the cinematography, it was beautiful. I loved how everything looked on screen, scenery, colors, lighting, the whole lot. The music and the little added touches of sound effects was just so spot on that you just feel more on edge as the movie goes, like little ticks here and there. Now, the cast, whew. Nobody fell short with their performance. Some might have smaller screen times than others but still, nobody was lackluster or pushed to the side and they gave their best with the material they were given. Although, I may be biased but from what I’ve been seeing around I think we can all agree that Tom Holland struck out the most (I’ll gush about him more under the cut aha).

Long babbling short, I loved it. Right after I finished watching, it truly did feel like I went running lol, like I got so into it that those last few moments (or every intense scene for that matter) that it had me at the edge of my seat. But I also wanted to watch it again soon after. It may not be for everyone’s taste, although I am interested to see what the people who haven’t read the book thought of it because I do see how it can come off confusing in some parts. I already knew what was going to happen and some background on why it happened so it was easy for me to fill in the missing pieces. But with that said, it’s still a good adaptation and it stayed as true as it can get to the books. 8.5/10 would recommend watching, with caution of course.

a more detailed (specific scenes, characters, actors performance, and more) rambling below the cut aka spoilers ahead!!

I’m going to start off with Willard Russell who was played so well by Bill Skarsgård. I haven’t seen anything else of his before but he was so good in this movie. His interaction with Haley Bennett's character Charlotte was different from the book but I'm not mad on how it played out in the movie either. It was a cute and a little awkward interaction which was all good. Charlotte is exactly how I thought of her, a sweet, beautiful, caring lady and Haley played her just as well. Especially with the scene where she and Arvin were singing together, that was just the sweetest thing.

But back to Willard (Bill) and all his interaction with little Arvin (who was also so great btw), it was just damn. For one, in the truck after he beat the living daylights out of those men, that switch of him being out of breath and angry and him teaching Arvin about those bullies and finding the right time and him saying, "there's a lot of no good sons of b*tches out there." to when Arvin asked him if it was more than a hundred and he chuckled as if he didn't almost just killed a man? And then suddenly he was back to this loving father who cares so much about his family and would anything to protect and defend them (sounds familiar right? Apple doesn't fall far from the tree.) Although I will say that Willard is a much horrible person in the book than he was in the film. The prayer log could've gotten more… bloody and gross as time passed by. And the thing with Jack Russell (Arvin's dog, who wasn't actually a jack russell but oh well), they changed it so that he was with them longer so it did have more weight if you put it that way since Arvin has grown to love Jack, so killing him off screen was still going to be heart breaking. But in the book, it was a stray dog that wandered into their place and Arvin fed him, named him but on the same day, as soon as Willard got home he shot the dog right in front of Arvin. Now that would've been much crueler and could've showed just how far gone Willard is with his whole "faith" and how desperate he was on saving his wife who he's so in love with but damn, the things love can make people do. Or, they could've added the part where Willard killed the lawyer and poured his blood on the prayer log because that for me was a turning point in the book where I went, Willard has lost his freakin mind with the sacrifices. They did show the lawyer in the movie that's why I was a bit confused when it didn't happen but you can't cram anymore into a 2-hour movie. To conclude, this movie made me want to watch more of Bill for sure, but I'm too scared to watch IT (im a coward) so looking forward to what he does in the future.

Next I want to talk about are Helen, Roy and Theodore. Mia Wasikowska was great. She had so little screen time but whenever you see her on screen she just embodies Helen so well. Helen didn't have much to do in the book either aside from the fact that she was supposed to marry Willard and then didn't because Willard went off with Charlotte and Helen went to marry Roy which was kind of the starting to point as to why everything in their life has gone to hell, and then be a sweet mother to Lenora. But besides that, Mia gave her best and served the character well in my opinion. Theodore on the other hand could've done so so much more. Given that he was the driving force that made Roy kill Helen. If ever I haven't read the book, it would’ve look rather random how suddenly he wanted to try resurrection. Roy and Theodore's relationship could've been explained more, specifically Theo's feelings because that was why he pushed Roy to do it. Now, Harry Melling as Roy Laferty was great. The scene with the spiders and then the emotions you see in his face and his eyes when he tried to resurrect Helen? Remarkable. The slow realization that it wasn't working, the shift on his face was so clear and that momene where it crosses his mind that he just killed his wife it was just, Dudley Dursley who? Though his death came earlier than I expected, and they changed quite a lot and it felt so random how he just left Theo in the car and went on a hitchhike when in the book, Theo died first that's why Roy decided to try and go back to his daughter. But his death scene was still intense, and the fact that his last word was Lenora? His daughter? Amazing.

So, now we see Carl and Sandy Henderson, who showed immediately how crazy they were when they killed Roy (who wasn't their first kill but). Both Riley Keough and Jason Clarke were fantastic, and they really did bring the uneasiness so well on screen. And I love how you can actually see how Sandy change from the first time we see her to the last, like it looked like Sandy was played by two different actresses so huge props to Riley for smashing that role from innocent sweet girl to this troubled serial killer. Although I wished their story was showed better, more so Carl than Sandy because out of the two, Carl was much, much sicker in the head than Sandy. He was the one who'd constantly look at those horrible photos and do…stuff, which was so sooo gross to read I feel sick just thinking about it. But Jason Clarke did a great job at portraying Carl's creepiness as much as he could, like I couldn't bear looking at him on screen without grimacing.

Lee Bodecker. Sebastian Stan did a great job a making him insufferable that's for sure. I always love how the moment Lee is on screen Seb is just gone. He just never failed to feel like this weird and corrupt cop or sheriff. Although I will say, his and Sandy's relationship could've been showed better because I have seen where people didn't realize they were siblings until the end. But I do like how you see that Lee doesn't really care that much for Sandy, I mean he does, but not as much. His mind has always been about being re-elected and having these stories about Sandy won't make him look good does it? Though his emotions in the end when he was in that car with Sandy was really spot on.

Emma and Earskell, I won't really dive into much because there's really isn't much to say than they were both great. They both made Arvin and Lenora feel like they do have a family and that they weren't alone, like they just came off as kind people on screen. But gosh Emma, that woman deserves a proper vacation for everything that she's went through. But Lenora, oh gosh, her story and how it ended was the most painful to read and watch. She was just a sweet innocent girl who got bullied and she deserved none of that. Eliza Scanlen was just wow. I loved her in Little Women, loved her even more on here as well. And her chemistry with Arvin (Tom) in the movie was just amazing, like they bounced of each other so well and you can see with just one look how much she admires Arvin. But the last scene where you can see her face, that split moment when she paused and then slowly smiled as she thought how her grandma won't be ashamed, and that she will take care of her baby and give it the life that it deserves but then she slipped and that made the scene even more heart wrenching. Let me tell, I screamed "Nooooo!" when I read it in the book and I screamed just as loud when I saw it on screen despite already knowing how it ends.

That f*cking rev. tergaryen what's his face. I couldn’t stand him in the book couldn’t stand him just as much in the movie which says a lot on how great of an actor Robert Pattison is. Each time he's on screen I emotionally and physically just can't stand him. Mind you I watched all his scenes with the Reaster girl and his wife with a proper scowl and kept looking away. But his scene with Lenora in the car I was peeking through my fingers because I can't sit and watch it fully because it was just so disgusting to watch. Robert Pattison played him so well that even his voice was just so creepy like dude, shut up. And when he was manipulating Lenora, rambling about his freakin delusions? Ugh I really wanted to punch the screen, big kudos to Rob for bringing that disgusting character to life. And well, I'll say he did get what he deserved in the end so.

Last but definitely not the least, Tom Holland as Arvin Russell. Gosh, where do I even start with this lad? This boy has range I can tell you that. I'm going to be talking so much about him so haha sorry but he was just amazing and I need to point out so many things. First scene was his birthday, and you can see how he seemed like just a normal, happy boy celebrating with the people the he loves but the moment Uncle Earskell handed the gun and mentioned that it was his father, his whole mood changes, his whole face fell and the look in Tom's EYES, his eyes does so much to portray his emotions and goodness he's so freakin amazing at switching from one emotion to another in so little time. To be honest, Arvin in the book is much more cold and harsh, even when it's towards Lenora and his Grandma. Hell, he makes sly digs at Lenora in the book which is more of a way to make her see how cruel the world is, sorta a tough love kinda of thing. He's just not that affectionate, with how he grew up, it's a given.

But Tom brought so much more depth to the character that even I didn't see as much while reading the book. Which is why people are so drawn to him, it makes him easier to sympathize and like in the movie, all because Tom added even more layers (i need my onion emoji dammit). I mean, Arvin is complex as is in the book, a lot colder for sure, but with how Tom portrayed him you just get to think so much more on what could possibly be going on in Arvin's head. You can just see all sorts of emotions the character goes through, from being rash, to angry, to hatred, to fear, to sadness, to vulnerability and these emotions happen so close to each other that the switch is just incredibly impressive. When he charged towards those bullies to protect Lenora? This is where you can see that when he's filled with rage, he sometimes doesn't think things through. It was three against one with guys much bigger than him, it was obvious he was never going to win but he still did so anyway because he loved Lenora, he'd do anything to protect and avenge her, why? It's what his father taught him. It's what he saw when he was a kid, that no matter if it’s a violent act, he'll do it for the people that he loves. Like i said in the beginning, the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree.

There so much like father like son moments in this film, which didn't even come off forced because I've seen in an interview where Bill and Tom read their lines together despite not having a scene together and oh did it pay off because you can see a little bit of the Willard you see on the first bit of the movie in Arvin all throughout, which is again, a testament to how great these actors are. Also, Tom's scenes together with Eliza are just wow. It's incredible how much they contrast each other but still be connected in a way, like Lenora is this sweet innocent girl who's kind hearted and is willing to forgive her father for whatever he could've done while Arvin, gosh, every mention of his father his face always falls stoic and it's so amazing to see Tom play that emotion so well with so little movement like a clench of his jaw or his eyes. Their relationship was just so wholesome. Even with that scene in the meat shop where Arvin was teasing his grandma, it was such a sweet moment to see that side of him because in the book, the interaction was just plain he said, she said which I interpreted as being nothing more than a casual conversation but in the movie it was more light-hearted which is so interesting given the a few moments later, you see Arvin's rage again and he was already in fight mode when that preacher insulted Emma's cooking (which was a so not okay that freakin imbecile) which again, slowly opens the doors to how far Arvin will go for the sake of protecting and avenging the ones he love. Also, the fact that they changed who found Lenora's body to Arvin instead of Earskell was far better. My heart freakin broke for that boy when he was screaming as he tried to keep her up in hopes that he could still save her. Thomas Stanley Holland man, that scene was just wow, it was a lot to take in. But that change only added as to how he was going to handle the preacher later in the movie.

What did impress me the most was the quick switch Tom makes with his emotions. First off, that moment with those bullies. He was relentless with how he handled them, just full on anger and hatred like when he beat those boys best believe I kept flinching because it looked painful as hell. And then he says, "I'll kill you." (with that thunder sound which was a really nice touch), and this is where you just see how he's someone you shouldn't mess with who can potentially do so much more damage (which he does). But the moment he gets in his car and closes the door? You see nothing but a kid who's downright scared of what he just did, he knew it was somewhat wrong, like he couldn't actually believe he did that in the first place but as he'd said, he did it because had to and felt like it was the only way, which is again, a callback to what he saw with his father with them 'bullies,' it drilled on him how that's the only way. But my goodness the way his hand shook, his breathing, the fear in his eyes, and then when he wiped the blood on his hand then that flashback with Willard? Yes yes yes, another like father like son moment.

It's the same thing with the way he handled the preacher, it was much more different in the book but I liked this version better. There's just something poetic about it being in the church all while Arvin confessed the preacher's sins for him, it was just amazing writing. But the way his hands shook when he was standing the first time he enters? Like he could’ve done it right then and there but he can't because he's scared. I mean the way his voice was breaking with that sinner line (which was so funny how they made it seem so badass in the trailer) he was trying to get himself together, like the way he was breathing so shakily shows his nerves and his fear. But as he reiterated all the disgusting things the preacher did, you see that rage bubble inside him, you see him slowly grow more confident because his fear was now replaced by anger. And once that his rage was at full capacity, the moment they started talking about Lenora? (Tom and Rob's exchange was amazing btw) He was able to shoot him down with one hand, shaking gone all because he was angry. But as soon as he's dead and the anger subsides, the fear is so quick to consume him, you see it the moment he sits down. And again with his eyes you see it all in his eyes, just Tom Frickin Holland everybody. That exchange was easily the best one.

As for his interaction with Carl and Sandy, his expressions in the back seat as he slowly realizes what was going to happen to him, it was just amazing. This is where you see more of Arvin actually being smart, he's a bit rash and compulsive sure but he is definitely smart. But now, you don't see his anger because he doesn't know this people, the only thing he knows is that they were trying to kill him. So notice how he shot Carl with two hands this time? and how he was shaking exactly as he pulled the trigger? Same with Sandy? Compare that to how he handled the preacher. Also his fear when he thought he got shot? The utter panic was just, though he did puke in the book which would've showed just how much he didn't like what he just did and how he felt so wrong. Same with his interaction with Lee, he knows how asses his situation and damn, I don’t know if its sheer dumb luck or this boy just got incredible aim, I mean he's practiced in the books and he's gotten good but you don't see it in the movie though. But still the same, you see more of him being regretful which just shows how complex he is as a character. And Tom showed all these emotions so freakin well without saying much at all. You just see it, which shows just how talented he is.

Everything somewhat came full circle in the end, he buried Jack's bones which what he's been wanting ever since. And he also buried the gun, which was somewhat him saying how he's had somewhat a closure with his father and that he's putting it all in the pass. And then we end the movie with him trying not to fall asleep which honestly what it felt like after watching the movie. I needed a breather. That last shot was so calming though it does make you wonder where he goes on from here.

My goodness I could go on and on about Tom's performance and I definitely missed so much more but I feel like this is long enough lmao. Also feel like i’ve missed a few moments in the movie as well. Now I hope people will see what good of an actor he is and to show that he's more than just playing Peter Parker. Right, that's enough. I'm going to say how many words in total this was but, it's a lot.

And that is it for The Devil All the Time. A very good movie, would want to watch again but damn, I feel like I need a nap because what a movie indeed.

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dreamofragtime · 4 years

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I did it, guys! THE WEDDING!

That’s Edward’s wedding…but the only thing I can think about is just LOOK AT THEM!!

“Are you ready for this?” I AMMMM!!!!

Jean underlying to Susan the surprise of being invited...she has this talent of saying what she’s thinking with such conviction but without being unpleasant... I just adore her!

Patrick ‘s speech and the not so subtle remarks toward Edward, I wouldn’t expect any less from him. He’s always been very objective, I think even with his own son. He’s protected him enough, now it’s time he takes his own responsibilities.

Lucien wants to leave...let’s face it, who would want to be there? At the wedding of someone who’s hurt you and your family so much and so recently nonetheless?

Oh great...a fight at a wedding...now they can leave! Thank god!

Look at Lucien being so very attentive and taking Jean’s hand and asking her to be careful because there’s glass all over the floor

OMG Edward’s dead! I didn’t expect that!

In the meantime Lucien’s aunt has a favour to ask, but he doesn’t seem very inclined to help her found her niece...”I’m dying”, she says and Lucien’s face speaks for him...he cannot refuse her, can he now? Because he can be reckless, but he has a heart of gold.

Wow there’s a flash back! I love this! Aww Lucien, poor boy...“that’s enough” my heart is broken

Great now, he’s obviously going to the crime scene even though he’s not the police surgeon, anymore. Do we care about it? No, because let’s face it he’s the one who will solve the case!

Hahahah the famous Dr. Wallace...well, Lucien was right what an incompetent ! Matthew’s face, though when he asks about the cause of death...

Searching in a fountain full of blood...typical Lucien!

Dr Wallace and Alice at the morgue. She is behaving just like we would expect her to do with Dr Blake but the new police surgeon calls her “Miss Harvey” ...how dare he! .... “it’s Dr Harvey”...I love this woman!

Patrick asking Lucien for help and discussing his son’s murder was bittersweet...I couldn’t understand his character at first, now I’ve come to appreciate him.

Matthew defending Alice so fiercely and giving apiece of his mind to Dr Wallace...great scene!

In the kitchen Jean and Rose are talking about her children and the wedding... I want to give Jean a big hug, right now!

Aww look at the lovebirds planning to go to Melbourne for wedding shopping ...I can hardly wait!

Lucien is so sweet...he wants to stay at the bridal shop with her...“it’s bad luck” and we wouldn’t want anything to happen before the wedding... thank you very much! Now Lucien go!

The shop assistant referring to Jean as “The mother of the bride”...what?! thank your lucky stars that Lucien is not there to hear you!

Ohhh look who’s back! Danny! (can he call the Doc “uncle Lucien” just once? please!)

Jean chastising Lucien for not having checked Catherine’s address...she knows how to get his attention, though and I had the time of my life!

Wherever he goes he finds a dead body and he almost breaks his neck in the process..obviously!

Lucien being reinstated as police surgeon..that was Patrick’s doing, wasn’t it?

Patrick and Jean talking in the sunroom...I enjoy their conversations. He thinks so very highly of her and of Lucien, too probably (even if he doesn’t want to admit it) “you deserve to be happy!” My heart!..... “we need these triumphs”...yes Patrick, thank you for saying it! We do! They’ve waited for so long!

So now after the rather unpleasant chat at the pub with the father of the bride he’s being followed...that was scary, eh?

What?! Another dead body? Mr Dunne and it cannot be Patrick’s fault...ohh poor Cec, he’s in shock!

And now Patrick is in jail..what an annoying lawyer and Bill has definitely improved his skills..not only his fists for once!

Lucien pleading Patrick to rest and talk to his wife (Lucien is definitely getting better at this...I hope he’ll do the same with Jean) ohh Patrick the dialogue “sooner or later we all just become our fathers”, the look on Lucien’s face...goosebumps!

And Lucien going home and taking that clock from the chest...I love these flash backs, even though they are so heartbreaking (probably that’s why I like them)...poor little boy! He wasn’t even allowed a last hug to his father...how awful is that?! And later at the Colonists’ Club with aunt Dorothy talking about his father’s past and how their family had disapproved of Genevieve and later how they tried to make amends, but the betrayal was already too much for Thomas...

Lucien’s insecurities come to the surface, finally in his brief exchange with Matthew...“what if I don’t deserve her?”. He’s definitely putting her first, her needs, her dreams, her desires, what if he isn’t capable of being what/whom she deserves? She is the most important thing to him, now and he wants to be the right man for her. As Matthew reminds him, that man she deserves is something he already is, the best version of Lucien Blake. She doesn’t want him to be something he is not, but he owes it to her... to be the best version of himself.

Seeing Patrick in that car and Lucien’s reaction to his death was too much and his struggle in wanting to find someone responsible for his death, because he can’t accept that “sometimes people just die”...but in the end he has to come to terms also to this and it’s so very difficult.

He ends up talking with Jean because she’s always listened to him, even when he was the “ghost” of the man he is now and he knows that there’s no one else he could go to and tells her how he met Patrick, his first impression of him. And both have tears in their eyes, and he knows what he is about to ask, “Jean, my darling....I think we may have to postpone the wedding”, but she insists on Patrick’s last words to her and despite what they are both feeling they decide to go on with their wedding plans.

And now are they discussing their sleeping arrangements with Rose? The bedrooms are small? Yeah...we all get that!

Ohh Lucien your Jean is really a true marvel, she helps with both cases in the end...so smart!

There’s something about this scene of Lucien and Jean in front of the fireplace that really makes it a marvel to watch. I don’t know what it is, the lights, the acting, the writing...probably everything. These bits of their pasts they reveal to one another are precious moments...here Lucien trusts Jean so much that he isn’t afraid of telling her about his engagement and subsequent marriage with Mei Lin, and clearly he’s admitting to her that in the end he made the same choices his father did. He married a “foreign girl” in spite of his family and naturally, when faced with that, at the time, they both said things to one another they could not get back. But then he finds and reads Thomas’ letter to him, a letter he sent back, like all the others his father sent...well I couldn’t stop crying here and that line in which he said that he hoped his son would find someone who loved him “...regardless of what happened next”. A line in which Thomas uses more or less the same words Lucien himself spoke to Jean in season 3...I just can’t. And confessing that he had hated his father for a very long time and his fear of becoming like him...but that coming back to Ballarat was probably the best thing ever happened to him!

I could have never imagined Roslyn to be the murderer, but what really struck me was Lucien’s speech once again. Telling her how the only thing she had ever wanted was her father’s love and to hear him say he was sorry (the same things Lucien wanted from his father, and that in the end were the thing Thomas wrote to him, but that he never got the chance to know...until he read that letter the night before).

And then...well...when one thinks she’s ready to see the wedding....I mean...we’ve waited for so long!

I’VE NEVER SEEN ANYTHING MORE BEAUTIFUL IN MY LIFE! Jean is radiant and so stunning! I’m so glad she’s wearing a white dress! I love it and she looks lovely in it!

The way his voice falters when he says his vows, Jean’s certainty when she speaks hers, the kiss... and then Doctor and Mrs. Blake are dancing together and he kisses her on the cheek and that wedding band his sparkling so much...

And then you think you’ve already cried enough, but nooooooo they come back 4 months later (4 months? What kind of honeymoon was that exactly?!) and he opens the car door and you think it’s sweet, but then ohh then he just says “Mrs Blake” and you start sobbing once again.

And then she is popping the kettle on, but he can’t keep his hands (or lips) to himself and they’re kissing again and you are just there grinning like a fool. Matthew Lawson has just been promoted to “the new telephone” and really they can’t even have 5 minutes to themselves because obviously as soon as they set foot on Australian soil, someone drops dead...but the end ohhh the end...he comes back and has to kiss her again and then “I love you” and I’m just sobbing again...forever!

The last thing I have to say before I let you go is that I’m so thankful for all of you and I want to thank you all for your support, for having “travelled” with me until now and for the best welcome I’ve ever had.

Now I can really really say it, “The Doctor Blake Mysteries” has the best writing, the best acting and setting I’ve ever seen!

#the doctor blake mysteries #tdbm #family portrait #spoilers #jean and lucien #lucien x jean #jean blake (now I can say it!)finally #lucien blake #my otp for ever #the wedding #all the feels #this fandom is wonderful #thank you guys #i will go down with this ship #happily ever after #this show is everything

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96thdayofrage · 4 years

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What the defense has planned

During the jury selection process, Nelson tried to humanize Chauvin beyond the image of the white police officer who knelt on a Black man’s neck as he struggled to breathe and begged for his mother.

When the first batch of potential jurors was being questioned, Chauvin — with half his face obscured by a black mask — sat taking notes and rarely making eye contact. At one point, a juror said she could not forget the “hateful look” on Chauvin’s face in the videos. The comment altered the way Nelson later introduced his client to potential jurors, with Chauvin removing his mask to show his full face and nodding at the group.

To avoid convicting Chauvin of the second-degree unintentional murder charge, the defense must prove he did not cause Floyd’s death while also committing a felony — in this case, assault. The defense will argue that Chauvin did not cause Floyd’s death, that it was a combination of excessive drug use and preexisting conditions that killed him. They will call on the county medical examiner who said Floyd’s toxicology report showed high traces of drugs during the incident — but the examiner also noted that it’s hard to say whether Floyd would have died of other causes, like Chauvin’s knee on his neck. If convicted, under Minnesota law, the charge is punishable by up to 40 years in prison.

To avoid conviction on the second-degree manslaughter charge, the defense needs to prove that Chauvin didn’t cause Floyd’s death due to negligence that created an unreasonable risk — meaning, he didn’t know that pinning him down by his neck for nearly nine minutes would lead to severe injury or death. In Minnesota, this charge carries a maximum sentence of up to 10 years.

The third-degree murder charge, under Minnesota law, means the perpetrator acted in a way that was reckless at the risk of causing death and carries a sentence of no more than 25 years. Prosecutors argued to add the third-degree murder charge because not only is it easier to prove than second-degree unintentional felony murder, but it also gives jurors more options about how to convict. If convicted of any of these charges, Chauvin’s status as a first-time offender will also play into how long his prison sentence will be.

Ultimately, the defense’s central strategy is proving that something else ended Floyd’s life — and that it was not Chauvin’s knee. Nelson pushed for a pre-trial motion to include evidence of Floyd’s drug-related arrest by Minneapolis police in 2019. After reviewing Nelson’s arguments, in which the attorney called Floyd’s “emotional responses” during both arrests a “common modus operandi,” Judge Cahill has allowed the defense to show only a portion of the 2019 arrest video as evidence during the trial, adding that Floyd’s interactions with the police in 2019 mirrored the 2020 arrest that led to his death. Cahill also agreed that there were signs that Floyd may have taken drugs in both incidents.

The defense has also tried to argue that Chauvin was terminated due to prejudice, not for cause, and that Minneapolis Police Chief Medaria Arradondo only fired him out of public pressure. However, prosecutors successfully motioned to exclude any evidence or testimony that speaks to the police department’s decision to fire Chauvin and the other three officers involved since it’s unrelated to how and why Floyd died.

Nelson’s arguments so far give observers a glimpse of how he expects to approach the trial — that the entire investigation leading to Floyd’s death was fundamentally biased against his client, including the ongoing federal civil rights investigation and Chauvin’s immediate firing. Arradondo, the city’s first Black police chief, said he fired the officers after reviewing all the evidence including body-camera videos.

During the month-long trial, several witnesses are expected to testify, including Arradondo, the county medical examiner, and the bystander who videotaped Chauvin kneeling on Floyd’s neck.

The prosecution also plans to introduce “spark of life” witnesses, which under Minnesota law allows family and friends to be called to the stand to deliver testimony that would humanize the victim. Floyd’s brother, Philonise Floyd, and former girlfriend Courteney Ross are among those expected to speak.

However, the spark-of-life testimonies won’t be considered “evidence” and will be tightly managed by Cahill. The judge said he would draw a line if witnesses talk about Floyd’s character rather than how much they loved him since it would “open the door” for the defense to introduce Floyd’s criminal history as evidence, which so far has been ruled inadmissible. Cahill, nonetheless, added he may allow witnesses to talk about Floyd’s struggles with opioid addiction.

“This is not a hard case,” Ben Crump, the attorney who helped the Floyd family secure the $27 million settlement, said in a news release after the jury selections were completed. “George Floyd had more witnesses to his death than any other person ever — white or Black. We all saw the same thing — the indisputable and unjustified torture and murder by a police officer of a Black man who was handcuffed, restrained, and posed no harm.”

What we know about the jury

The initial jury pool had 326 people, but only about 60 were questioned. Cahill decided 15 needed to be selected, including two alternates and another who will be dropped if the first 14 jurors show up for duty (only 12 will be on the actual jury).

Even though the jury selection process was broadcasted live, the faces of the prospective jurors were not shown to the public for their safety and privacy, and they will not be seen for the duration of the trial. Among the 15 selected jurors, we do know six are people of color — one Black woman, three Black men, and two mixed-race women — while nine are white, six of whom are women. Despite being a white majority, the jury is actually more diverse than the county and the city: According to 2019 data from the US Census Bureau, Hennepin County is about 74 percent white and 14 percent Black while Minneapolis is about 64 percent white and 19 percent Black.

The jurors also come from an array of backgrounds, ranging from an accountant to a chemist to a nurse who has been caring for patients throughout the Covid-19 pandemic. Some are extremely familiar with the case while others haven’t been actively following monthslong developments. According to USA Today, seven are in their 20s or 30s, three in their 40s, four in their 50s, and one in her 60s.

Prior to the selection, each potential juror was asked to fill out a 14-page written questionnaire. During the selection process, the jurors were questioned and vetted by Judge Cahill, prosecution, and defense lawyers. The general line of questioning included if their views have changed since filling out the questionnaire, whether they could set aside their personal opinions on the case and social movements to remain impartial, and also about personal safety concerns. Those who expressed major anxiety and fears of being on the jury were ultimately dismissed.

The jurors were also asked about their thoughts or whether they’ve seen the video of Chauvin pinning his knee on Floyd’s neck as well as their views on the Black Lives Matter and Blue Lives Matter movements. One of the selected jurors, who said he plans to move out of Minnesota in late May, noted he has a neutral opinion of Floyd and also generally favors the Black Lives Matter movement but also believes it was “a contributing factor” in the unrest that erupted following Floyd’s death last summer.

Another juror, a white man who works in sales, called the Blue Lives Matter movement “not offensive but shortsighted.” The man, who is supposed to get married in May but said he is willing to postpone the wedding if the trial continues, noted he generally supports law enforcement.

Some of the jurors’ responses also indicated how they would approach the final verdict of the trial. One juror said she wanted to know more about police training and whether placing a knee on someone’s neck was allowed while another said he wanted to hear Chauvin offer his side of the story.

However, one potential juror last week was dismissed by Chauvin’s defense attorney after sharing his thoughts and personal experience with the Minneapolis Police Department and the criminal justice system as a whole.

“As a Black man, you see a lot of Black people get killed and no one’s held accountable for it, and you wonder why or what was the decision, and so with this, maybe I’ll be in the room to know why,” the potential juror told the court.

Although the Army veteran said he could put his personal opinions aside to hear the case solely based on the evidence presented in court, he was still dismissed by the defense arguing that he was biased against the Minneapolis Police Department.

“That was his actual lived experiences with the Minneapolis police, but he was disqualified because it was assumed he couldn’t look past that in order to look at the facts of the case,” Bullock told Vox. “It’s an insult to Black Minneapolis residents because we have to forgo our bias and lived experiences all the time to fit in the system. It just shines a light on some of the inherent unfairness about the system.”

Cahill said he plans to reveal the names of the jurors when it is “safe” to do so. In the meantime, government buildings in downtown Minneapolis remain heavily barricaded by fencing and concrete barriers while members of the Minnesota National Guard remain stationed outside the courthouse. The heavy police presence, Bullock said, has left the community on edge.

Still, activist groups like Reclaim the Block and Black Visions Collective will keep a close eye on the trial while also protesting outside the courthouse and rallying at what’s now George Floyd Square. What they ultimately hope comes out of Floyd’s death is what they’ve always wanted: replacing Minneapolis police with a new public safety department, which means first changing the city charter and knocking door to door to collect signatures to do so.

“Regardless of the outcome of the verdict, we know that true justice would have to reflect in a fundamental change in the way we address public safety. If we’re not doing that, true justice is not served,” Bullock said. “We want justice for George Floyd and his family, of course, but we know that true justice means changing our public safety system.”

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sciencespies · 4 years

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The Case of the Autographed Corpse

https://sciencespies.com/history/the-case-of-the-autographed-corpse/

The Case of the Autographed Corpse

On a Saturday afternoon in February 1933, at the Fort Apache Reservation in Arizona, a White Mountain Apache Indian named Silas John Edwards and his wife, Margaret, stopped by a friend’s place to visit and relax. Edwards, a trim middle-aged man with a penetrating gaze, was an influential figure on reservations throughout the Southwest. Hundreds of followers regarded him as a divinely inspired religious leader, a renowned shaman and medicine man.

When he and Margaret arrived at their friend’s dwelling, a tepee, they found people drinking tulapai, a homemade Apache liquor. Three hours later, the Edwardses joined a group heading to another friend’s home. People who were there reported that Margaret confronted him inside a tepee, demanding to know why he’d been spending time with a younger woman, one of Margaret’s relatives. The argument escalated, and Margaret threatened to end their marriage. She left the party. Edwards stayed until about 10:30 p.m. and then spent the night at a friend’s.

Shocking news came the next day: Margaret was dead. Children had discovered her body, along with bloody rocks, at the side of a trail two and a half miles outside of the Fort Apache town of Whiteriver. They alerted adults, who carried her body home. “I went in the tepee and found my wife in my own bed,” Edwards later wrote. “I went to her bedside and before I fully realized what I was doing or that she was really dead, I had picked her up in my arms, her head was very bloody and a part of the blood got on my hands and clothing.”

He was still kneeling there, holding his wife’s body, when a sheriff and an Apache police officer arrived. The reservation was patrolled largely by Indian officers, but ever since the Major Crimes Act of 1885, certain crimes on Indian reservations had fallen under federal jurisdiction. Murder was one of them.

A medical examiner reported that Margaret had been killed by blows to her head and strangulation. Curiously, at least two of the rocks used to crush her skull were inscribed with her husband’s initials: S.J.E.

The rocks were key pieces of evidence when Edwards stood trial in federal court in October of that year. The 12 white men on the jury delivered a guilty verdict and the judge sentenced Edwards to life in prison. He was sent to McNeil Island Federal Penitentiary in Steilacoom, Washington.

White Mountain Apaches gather for storytelling in 1904. The group is one of five related Western Apache bands whose hunter-gatherer ancestors are thought to have migrated to the region that is now Arizona from Yukon or Alaska.

(Alamy)

Seventeen years later, in March 1951, Edwards—now 64 and still imprisoned at McNeil Island—wrote a desperate letter. “Up ’til now you have never heard of me,” he began, and then repeated the protestations of innocence he’d been making ever since his arrest. He had affidavits from witnesses who’d said he could not have committed the murder. The White Mountain Apache Tribal Council had unanimously recommended his release from prison. Another suspect had even been found. Edwards had pleaded with authorities for a pardon or parole, but nothing he did could move them.

This letter was a last-ditch effort to avoid dying of old age behind bars. Edwards thought the man he was writing to could get him out. The man was Erle Stanley Gardner, the author of the Perry Mason mystery books.

At the time, Gardner was America’s best-selling author. He was also a lawyer, and soon after he received Edwards’ letter, he agreed to help. Thus began an unprecedented partnership between an imprisoned Apache holy man and a fiction writer who’d made the dramatization of crime a national obsession.

* * *

Until the day of Margaret’s murder, Edwards had spent his whole life on Indian reservations. His grandparents had been born in the same region when it was still part of Mexico. They’d lived in family groups that grew corn, beans and squash along waterways nearby.

Silas John Edwards, who learned from his father how to treat illnesses by tapping the power of rattlesnakes, in an undated photo.

(Edgar Guenther courtesy William Kessel)

His parents, born after the Mexican-American War in the recently annexed New Mexico Territory, spent their lives worrying about the increasingly hostile U.S. Army, which built a garrison at Fort Apache on the White Mountain tribe’s land. The Indians could no longer travel, trade or even raise crops freely.

Nonetheless, a group of 50 White Mountain Apache men helped the U.S. defeat Geronimo in 1886. As a reward, the U.S. government allowed them to continue living on part of their ancestral territory, establishing the White Mountain Reservation (divided into the Fort Apache and San Carlos reservations). The reservation was a gorgeous expanse of mountains and valleys. Edwards was born there in the 1880s and given the name Pay-yay.

As a child, he was raised with traditional beliefs about male, female and animal deities who had created the world and given power and good fortune to the Apache people. But life on the Apache reservations was hard. Government food rations were insufficient. Starting in the 1890s, Indian children were required to attend schools where they had to shed cultural practices, from hairstyle to language. Edwards and his classmates were given Anglicized names.

Silas John Edwards (left) and his father, photographed by the Rev. E. Edgar Guenther, who submitted this picture to a contest under the title “The Old and the New.” He was awarded a $10 prize for it.

(Edgar Guenther courtesy William Kessel)

But their geographic isolation allowed the White Mountain Apaches to keep some of their traditions. Edwards learned from his father, a medicine man, how to treat illnesses by tapping into the power of rattlesnakes. He also became skilled at tanning rattlesnake skins, and crafting hatbands and other goods from them. Blue dots tattooed along the bridge of his nose and on his chin soon signified his special talents as a practitioner of traditional Apache medicine.

In 1911, a young Lutheran missionary named Edgar Guenther arrived at the reservation. He and his wife, Minnie, would remain in the area for 50 years. Under the pastor’s tutelage, Edwards converted to Christianity and began working as an interpreter for church services. He was especially fascinated by a biblical passage, Numbers 21:4-9, that described God setting venomous snakes on the rebellious Israelites. He and the minister had a falling out after Guenther discovered that Edwards had been using the Guenther home to “entertain women,” says Guenther’s grandson, William Kessel, who was born and raised on the Fort Apache Reservation. “That became a problem for Silas throughout his younger life, entertaining the women.”

At 2,627 square miles, the Fort Apache Reservation is slightly larger than Delaware. Today more than 12,000 Apaches live there in numerous small communities. The tribe runs a ski resort, a casino and a historic attraction that contains the remnants of the U.S. military fort.

(Guilbert Gates)

Around this time, new religious movements were rising among the White Mountain Apaches in response to disease, drought, food shortages, poverty and assaults on traditional life. Edwards began leading one of the most successful. He reported that he’d received a vision “in rays from above”—a set of 62 prayers recorded in graphic symbols. The symbols communicated not only words but also gestures and body movements. In 1916, Edwards proclaimed himself a prophet—more than a medicine man—and launched the Holy Ground religious movement, which stood apart from both Christian and traditional Apache religious practices.

The White Mountain Apaches called the movement sailis jaan bi’at’eehi, meaning “Silas John his sayings,” and Edwards conducted his first Holy Ground snake dance ceremony in 1920. Apaches began joining the movement in sizable numbers. By the early 1920s, Holy Ground had drawn so many followers that it had the potential to upend and revolutionize Apache life. Edwards’ healing ceremonies, often involving rattlesnakes and lasting for days, drew large crowds to consecrated locations at reservations in Arizona and New Mexico. Whites were not allowed to participate or observe.

Apaches and U.S. soldiers in 1893. One proponent of the Arizona Territory, soldier and politician Sylvester Mowry, voiced a malignant opinion then tragically common, saying Apaches should be “surrounded…surprised…and then put to death.”

(National Archives and Records Administration)

Meanwhile, the police saw Edwards as a dangerous figure. He was arrested for assault and for violating Prohibition by selling liquor to fellow Indians, even as he was fined for holding snake dances. Local officials were watching him closely.

By 1933, the popularity of Holy Ground had leveled off, but Edwards continued to preach, which annoyed officials in the region. He’d been married for six years to his third wife, Margaret, an Apache woman who had children from a previous marriage. Meanwhile, as many people close to the couple noted with disapproval, Edwards was carrying on an affair with another woman.

At his trial, which took place at the federal courthouse in Globe, Arizona, Edwards was declared indigent and given a court-appointed lawyer, Daniel E. Rienhardt.

For the prosecution, Assistant U.S. Attorney John Dougherty introduced letters Edwards had written to the other woman and witnesses who described his argument with his wife on the night of her death. Others confirmed there had been blood on Edwards’ clothing, as Rienhardt’s notes from the trial recorded. The cast of a shoe print found near the victim’s body was brought into the courtroom and was said to match Edwards’ shoe. The prosecution even displayed part of Margaret’s skull—an act Rienhardt called prejudicial.

The federal courthouse in Globe, Arizona, where Edwards was tried, is now a post office. Although Arizona has Apache courts that rule on tribal cases, the Major Crimes Act lists 15 crimes that require Indians to be tried in U.S. court. Murder is one of them.

(Ash Ponders)

“I was fully convinced Edwards was not guilty,” Rienhardt later wrote in a letter to Gardner. A biochemist presented support for the defense, testifying that the blood found on Edwards’ clothing was smeared on the fabric, not splattered or dripped, which supported Edwards’ story.

But the strangest evidence was the rocks that bore Edwards’ initials. The prosecution told the jury that the initialed rocks were in keeping with a tribal tradition—that an Apache murderer left initials at the scene of a crime to prevent a victim’s soul from seeking retribution. Rienhardt argued that this was utterly false. Apaches didn’t leave their initials at murder scenes, and anyone familiar with Apache customs would attest to that. (The surviving notes from the trial do not show that any witness testified about the supposed tradition of leaving initials behind.) Besides, Rienhardt argued, why would Edwards be strenuously maintaining his innocence if he’d left his initials at the crime scene? When Edwards took the stand, though, the prosecution subjected him to a sarcastic and ridiculing cross-examination.

The trial and the jury’s deliberation took only a week. “A white man would have been freed in 15 minutes by the same jury that tried him,” Rienhardt wrote in a November 1933 statement, trying to get a new trial for his client. Rienhardt also maintained that the superintendent of the Indian reservation had welcomed the chance to take the influential shaman away from his followers. But there was no new trial, and Edwards would languish in prison for nearly two decades.

* * *

At the time Gardner got the letter from Edwards, he was living on a ranch in Temecula, California, about 60 miles northeast of San Diego and just outside the borders of a Pechanga Reservation. (Today, the ranch is part of the reservation itself.) His office was decorated with American Indian artwork, baskets, masks and moccasins. But Gardner, a Massachusetts native, had little knowledge of the religious life or cultural significance of the man who wrote to him from the McNeil Island Penitentiary.

Gardner dictates a story in 1941.

(Bob Landry / The LIFE Images Collection / Getty Images)

What Gardner did understand were the flaws in the prosecution’s case. A bespectacled man with a commanding gaze, Gardner had spent years practicing law in California. In the early 1920s, he’d started writing mystery stories for pulp magazines. He’d published his first Perry Mason novel one month after the murder of Edwards’ wife. Over the years, Perry Mason—a fictional defense attorney who usually defended innocent clients—became the center of a literary juggernaut, generating sales of more than 300 million books as well as a popular TV show.

Like the hero he’d invented, Gardner felt drawn to cases involving the wrongly accused. He believed America’s criminal justice system was often biased against the vulnerable. In the 1940s, Gardner used his fame and wealth to assemble what he called the Court of Last Resort, a group of forensic specialists and investigators who—like today’s Innocence Project at Cardozo School of Law—applied new thinking to old cases.

A fan’s collection of Gardner memorabilia. In The Case of the Velvet Claws (1933), the first Perry Mason novel, the character describes himself as “a specialist on getting people out of trouble.”

(Bryan Chan / Los Angeles Times / Getty Images)

Gardner’s team rescued dozens of innocent people from executions and long prison terms. Among them were Silas Rogers, a black man sentenced to death for shooting a police officer in Petersburg, Virginia; Clarence Boogie, a victim of false testimony in a murder case in Spokane, Washington; and Louis Gross, who had been framed for murder in Michigan. Gardner persuaded Harry Steeger of Argosy magazine to regularly publish his articles about his organization’s findings. “We are busybodies,” Gardner declared in a letter to FBI director J. Edgar Hoover. “If, on the other hand, citizens don’t take an active interest in law enforcement and the administration of justice, we are going to lose our battle with crime.”

The letter from the Apache shaman made a strong impression on Gardner. “This Silas John Edwards case has been preying on my mind,” he wrote to James Bennett, the director of the Bureau of Prisons at the U.S. Department of Justice, on May 2, 1952. “This man is a full-blooded Apache Indian. There is every possibility that he didn’t get justice at the hands of a jury who may not have understood Indian psychology, temperament and custom. I think we should investigate the case.”

Gardner met Edwards in prison a few months later, shortly after the Apache shaman had been transferred from McNeil Island to a federal prison camp near Wickenburg, Arizona. The prisoner appeared heavily muscled and younger than his years. “Outwardly he is stoic and calm,” Gardner later recalled. “His alert, attentive eyes miss no detail.” Gardner admired the fact that Edwards had a treasury of Apache tradition and medicinal wisdom stored in his mind. He asked Edwards about the most damning evidence in his case: the rock marked with his initials. “That is no custom to appease the spirit of [the] departed,” Edwards said, “but it is a very fine custom by which somebody can frame a killing on somebody else.”

At the end of their meeting, Edwards dipped his forefinger into a buckskin pouch that hung around his neck. It contained sacred pollen, called hadndin, which Edwards dabbed on Gardner’s forehead in the shape of a cross. He made a similar mark on the crown of Gardner’s hat. (The Holy Ground movement incorporated some elements from Christianity, including the iconography of a cross.) Edwards told Gardner that this ritual would keep him physically and spiritually resilient. “Our medicine was strong,” Gardner concluded after the meeting, reflecting on the new details he’d learned about the case. He agreed to investigate it himself.

* * *

In the fall of 1952, Gardner and another Court of Last Resort investigator, Sam Hicks, arrived at the U.S. District Court building in Tucson to exhume the records from Edwards’ trial. Among the files was a cache of letters that Edwards had written to his lover. In one of them, Edwards recalled a time he and the woman met in a canyon and “the tracks of our feet in the sand were covered by our shadows.” Gardner admitted to feeling some sympathy when he read the letters. He later described the affair in Argosy as a “brief emotional flare-up, a physical attraction for the comely young woman who had such a graceful, streamlined figure.” Edwards insisted that he’d never stopped loving Margaret, that his affection for his wife had “burned with a slow, steady flame that represents the mature companionship of adults who have shared many of life’s vicissitudes.”

The prosecution had asserted that Edwards had grown tired of his wife, found a younger woman who interested him more and murdered Margaret to get her out of the way. But even when Gardner considered the case through that lens, he found the evidence flimsy. “How absurd it is to think that a man would scratch his initials on a rock, leave it at the scene of a murder, and then protest his innocence,” Gardner wrote in Argosy. “One can well imagine how Sherlock Holmes would have curled his upper lip in disgust at the police reasoning that would have thought this rock an indication of guilt.”

Gardner and Hicks drove to Globe, where they met Edwards’ defense lawyer, Daniel Rienhardt, now in his mid-60s, and Robert McGhee, another attorney who had assisted Edwards. Both remembered the Edwards case. (Rienhardt admitted he was a Perry Mason fan and had recently bought a copy of The Case of the Moth-Eaten Mink.)

Together, the lawyers and investigators drove into the mountains north of Globe. They passed through groves of junipers and cedars, crested the high peaks, and descended into the Salt River Canyon. Twisting roads and high bridges brought them to a plateau where the pavement stopped and dirt roads led into the Fort Apache Reservation.

A view from the San Carlos Apache Reservation, one of the areas where Edwards’ religious movement took hold. In recent years, the tribe’s sacred lands have been at the center of a land swap controversy between the U.S. government and a copper mine.

(Ash Ponders)

At the reservation’s police station, Rienhardt asked an Apache officer whether he had ever heard of a custom that compelled a murderer to leave initials near a victim’s body. “In only one case,” the officer replied, “and that happened to be the murder of my mother.” The policeman, Robert Colelay, was Margaret Edwards’ son from an earlier marriage. And he told the investigators that he believed Silas John Edwards did not kill her.

Apache officers escorted the group to the key locations in the case, including the murder site at the edge of the trail. This section of the reservation had not changed much in the years since Margaret’s death. The roads were still rough and many White Mountain tribal members still lived in tepees nearby. Gardner interviewed surviving witnesses and others who had knowledge of the murder. He sketched maps to understand the geography. The visit ended with one of the group’s Apache guides producing a pouch like the one Edwards wore around his neck. He painted crosses in yellow powder on Gardner’s shoulder, forehead and hat.

Nobody Gardner met at the reservation had heard of an Apache tradition involving initials left at a murder scene. One person also challenged the shoe print mold, asserting that a police officer had forced Edwards’ shoe into the original track before the cast was made. “The evidence which convicted him was pathetically inadequate as well as absurd,” Gardner concluded. “The facts strongly indicate an innocent man has been imprisoned.”

Gardner contacted each member of the U.S. Board of Parole to argue for the release of the Apache shaman. Without the inflammatory evidence of Edwards’ adultery, he argued to parole commissioner Joseph Dewitt, “no jury would have returned a verdict of guilty.”

Gardner told the superintendent of the Arizona prison that the Apaches seemed to have “a pretty good general idea” who did murder Margaret. Gardner refused to publish the suspect’s name, but here it can be revealed for the first time in print: He was a White Mountain Apache named Foster James.

The evidence supporting James’ guilt is considerable. One member of the Court of Last Resort, Bob Rhay (who went on to become the longest-serving superintendent of Washington State Penitentiary), spent time looking into it more deeply. “Foster James has admitted on several occasions that he is the actual murderer,” Rhay wrote in a report preserved among Gardner’s papers at the Harry Ransom Center of the University of Texas. He referred to “an affidavit from a Mr. and Mrs. Anderson, in which Mrs. Anderson says that Foster James admitted to her, while he was attacking her, that he had killed Mrs. Edwards.” (Efforts to find surviving friends or relatives of Foster James and include their opinions in this account were unsuccessful. He had no children.)

Kessel, an anthropologist and the grandson of the Lutheran minister who converted Edwards to Christianity, says it was conventional wisdom on the reservation that it was James who had killed Margaret. When Kessel interviewed a number of Apache elders for his academic research on the tribe’s religious movements, they said they believed that Edwards was innocent. Just one interviewee departed from that version of events: Foster James himself.

The tribal chairman had asked Kessel never to mention the accusations against James until after James, Edwards and others close to them died—a promise Kessel would keep. James died in 1976.

For Gardner’s part, he’d noticed that tribal members seemed fearful when they discussed James. “None of these Indians dare to raise their voices above a whisper,” he wrote. “None of them will permit their names to be quoted. The murder of Mrs. Edwards was a ruthless, bloody affair and there is still a silent terror which stalks the Indian reservation.” But more than fear kept the Apaches’ lips closed. In the community of the reservation, with its blood kinships and close relationships, the Apaches did not want to out one of their own.

* * *

On August 1, 1955, Silas John Edwards walked out of prison and returned to reservation life. Though Edwards was already eligible for parole, Gardner’s efforts apparently tipped the scale and persuaded the parole board. Edwards shared the news with Gardner in a letter. According to Gardner, the first thing the newly freed man asked him to do was to thank the readers of Argosy. It’s not known how many of the magazine’s devoted readers wrote to federal officials to protest Edwards’ continuing incarceration, but the response may have been considerable.

A prickly pear cactus on the San Carlos Reservation. “The scenery is really beautiful,” Gardner wrote in an article for Argosy describing his travels through Arizona on Edwards’ behalf. “The desert is not, as so many people think, a barren expanse.”

(Ash Ponders)

Edwards’ followers had kept his movement alive the whole time he was incarcerated, and when he returned to the reservation, he resumed his role as a prophet, albeit with a lower profile. During the 1960s, he led his last Holy Ground snake dance. Soon afterward, he fell back into the more modest role of a traditional medicine man.

Gardner visited Fort Apache again, about a decade after Edwards’ parole. At first, he didn’t recognize the septuagenarian, who was chopping wood: “The man looked even younger than when we had seen him years before in prison.”

Kessel remembers visiting Edwards toward the end of his life, when he was living at an American Indian convalescent home in Laveen, Arizona. “There was no grudge against anybody for anything,” Kessel recalls. “He was a gentleman to the end.” Edwards died in 1977.

William Kessel, an anthropologist who was born and raised on Apache reservations in Arizona, holds up a portrait of Edwards with a snake around his neck. The photo was taken by Guenther, Kessel’s grandfather, who spent 50 years ministering to Apaches.

(Ash Ponders)

The religious movement he founded has at least one practitioner, Anthony Belvado, who was born on the San Carlos Reservation and makes traditional musical instruments. He carries the same kind of buckskin pouch that Edwards wore around his neck, filled with hadndin, and practices as a healer in the Holy Ground tradition.

Life on Arizona’s reservations is still hard, decades after Edwards’ time. More than 40 percent of White Mountain Apaches live in poverty. Covid-19 has devastated the community—at one point, White Mountain Apaches were being infected at ten times the rate of other Arizonans.

And wrongful convictions remain a problem in Indian country. In 2015, an Alaska judge ordered the release of the “Fairbanks Four,” Indian men who had spent 18 years in prison for a murder they hadn’t committed. A 2016 report from the University of South Dakota found that Indians were dramatically underrepresented on juries, partly because of a cumbersome process that makes it difficult for reservation Indians to register to vote.

Meanwhile, the legacy of Perry Mason lives on. The Supreme Court Justice Sonia Sotomayor has cited the character as an influence, quoting a line spoken by a prosecutor on the show: “Justice is served when a guilty man is convicted and when an innocent man is not.” This past June, 50 years after Gardner’s death, HBO premiered a new Perry Mason television series. For many Americans, the fictional defense lawyer remains a symbol of due process done right.

The Edwards story was “one of the most peculiar murder cases that we have ever investigated,” Gardner said. The invention of a false Indian custom, and the jury’s willingness to believe it, landed an innocent man behind bars for more than 20 years. “If I were writing of this case as a work of fiction,” Gardner told the readers of Argosy, “I would call it The Case of the Autographed Corpse.”

#History

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beautcous · 4 years

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Lunch Interrogation || Mahi, Naina & Avantika

After the night Mahi spent with Aryan, she became even more confused over her feelings and was constantly questioning his motive. Thankfully, for today at least, she was free of him. She was home and lounging around in the living room, planning on watching a movie and wasting the day away. However, before she could get too comfortable, a knock came at the door. Sighing, she got up to open it and was startled by the older woman that stood before her. “May I help you, Miss?”

“Yes,” Avantika smiled brightly at the younger woman before saying, “I’m sorry but I’m looking for Naina. She lives here, doesn’t she? I’m Avantika.”

“Oh, yes, this is her home. I’m her roommate, Mahira. Is she expecting you?” Mahi would’ve let the older woman in, but this was New York and she was wary about inviting a stranger in. It was then that Naina came out of her room and Mahi immediately spun around to address her friend. “Naina, do you know a Miss Avantika? She’s here to see you.”

Today was one of the rare days that both Naina and Mahi were home together, these days they both were hardly home and hardly saw one another thanks to their involvement Jace and Aryan. Mahi was even busier because her graduation was around the corner and honestly Naina was so proud and happy for her best friend, she had done it - Mahi had achieved her dreams. Today both girls decided to stay in and enjoy each other's company because it was pathetic that they lived together and spent so little time with one another, that was not acceptable at all. Naina had just finished organizing some of her belongings when the doorbell rang, she stood only to find that Mahi had answered and on the other stood Jace’s mom. A smile blossomed on her features as did confusion, “yes, Mahi this is Jace’s mother.” Naina walked over and beamed at the elder woman, “Mrs. Khurana, what a pleasant surprise. Come in, stepping aside for her to walk in. “Is there something you need? Not that I’m not delighted to see you, it’s been awhile.”

Avantika was passing through Naina’s neighborhood and figured that she should make a stop. Ever since she first met the younger woman, she’d grown to like her and if she was being honest, she wanted Naina and Jace to get together. Her son worked too hard and should be married now. Actually, both of her sons should be. Unfortunately, the two were still single. Maybe this visit would help. When the door of the brownstone apart swung open, Avantika hadn’t expected to be greeted by another woman. A young Indian woman. She too was very pretty and polite too as she greeted Avantika. Apparently, her name was Mahira and she was Naina’s roommate. Good, it meant that she was unmarried. “Naina, I’m sorry to disturb you, but I was visiting a friend nearby and thought I’d stop by. Also, please don’t call me Avantika or if you’re more comfortable, aunty will do. I was thinking about taking you out to lunch, you can bring Mahira with you too.” She said, hoping to get to know the younger brunette too.

Mahi stepped aside to let the two women talk. Her heart pounded once she found out that Avantika was Jace’s mom which meant that she was Aryan’s mother too. Oh God…And she even invited her to join them for lunch. She should refuse, right? “That’s okay, aunty, I can stay home. You two should go.”

“Nonsense, if you have nothing going on, come with us, Mahi. You don’t mind me calling you Mahi, do you?”

Mahi looked between both women and not having a good enough excuse, she knew she couldn't refuse. "I'll come then, and I don't mind you calling me Mahi."

Naina was entirely shocked to see the woman show up and more so at how she knew her address, but delighted nonetheless. She had enjoyed her company that day in Jace's office and it was due time they caught up. She introduced her to Mahi, before asking her to come in. She smiled at the woman, “aunty it is, and you’re not disturbing us.” The lunch offer made her look over at her friend, and Naina hadn’t missed the panic in her eyes, so she discreetly squeezed Mahi’s hand in comfort as they wouldn’t be able to turn her down.

“One thing you should know, Mahi, Aunty always gets her way.” Pulling the elder woman’s leg and she could see her grinning a bit both at her remark and when Mahi agreed to tag along. “That sounds lovely, Aunty.”

“Smart girl.” Avantika remarked before smiling warmly at Mahi, “Mahi - beautiful name for a beautiful woman. If you both are ready my car is waiting outside.”

“Let me grab my purse and coat.” Naina went to her room and grabbed both things before stopping in Mahi’s and grabbing a coat for her friend as well. Upon returning to the living room, she handed Mahi’s coat to her before the three made their way outside and Naina locked the door behind them. When they were situated in the car, with the roommates sitting across from Avantika.

Avantika turned her curious gaze to Mahi, “so tell me about yourself, Mahi, what do you do?”

Mahi’s mind reeled. What was going on here? She was trying her best not to be around Aryan so much and now his mother was here. Not only that but she was also insisting that Mahi came to lunch with her and Naina. She couldn’t be rude and reject the request, so she reluctantly agreed. “Thank you, aunty.” She said awkwardly when Avantika complimented her name. The brunette flashed her best friend a watery smile and watched as she disappeared to get their coats. At this point, she was sure that she was going to be sick. Her stomach hurts and she had the urge to run, but of course she could do that; not when Naina was here at least. Minutes later, they were in the car, hoping to get through this ride silently, however, Avantika wanted to know what she did. “I just graduated law school and waiting to take the bar exam.”

“A lawyer. My son is a lawyer too, maybe you should meet him. He might be able to help you get started.” Avantika said, liking this young woman already. She would be perfect for Aryan.

Mahi nearly choked, but instead of saying anything, she just smiled. On the inside, she was hoping that lighting would struck her down or something, that way she no longer had to endure this. Plus, she hated lying.

“Now, how is Jace treating you, dear? He’s not giving you a hard time, is he?” Avantika asked, turning to Naina this time.

Naina felt bad for putting Mahi in this awkward position but she didn't have the heart to turn down Avantika's request for lunch. She knew Mahi would like this woman once she got passed the awkwardness, and what Avantika didn't know what hurt her.

"Mahi here likes doing things on her own." She teased her friend, just to help Mahi relax a bit.

Avantika smile, "I hope you do consider it, dear, let me know if you'd like his help, he'd be delighted to help you. I'm positive he would love to meet you, Mahi."

"Not at all, in fact, I'd say he's very lenient with me." Naina said with a smile, "your son lets me get away with a lot of things."

“Thank you for the offer, aunty, but I think I’m fine. Plus, I wouldn’t want to bother him. I’m sure he’s a busy man.” She said, trying to be polite, but on the inside, she was actually feeling rather guilty for deceiving Avantika. If she knew Mahi’s life story, she was certain that the older woman wouldn’t want her to even breathe the same air as Aryan. The thought made her heart ache, but as usual, she chose to push it aside.

Avantika was worried about Aryan too; after he broke off his engagement, he was constantly working. It was time he settled down and she was certain that Mahi could be perfect for Aryan if they were to meet. “Think about it, dear. It’s always good to have someone with experience on your side.” Her smile was as bright as the sun when Naina informed her of how Jace was behaving. “That’s good. Are you sure you don’t want to give Jace a shot? You two would make a perfect pair.” She added, not seeing the point in beating around the bush.

If Naina wasn't imagining things, she swore Mahi looked distressed as she spoke and appeared to try her hardest not to see Aryan. It left the brunette confused and concerned, they were friends and as far she knew didn't have a argument or a fight, so why did Mahi look so worried? She made a mental to talk her once they were back home alone.

Naina had to bit back her groan when Avantika started the topic of dating Jace, it was bad enough she had to pretend like she wasn't fucking her son ( something she was sure Mahi was also experiencing as she was sleeping with Aryan) now she had to blatantly lie to the woman she admired. "I'm sure you're right, Aunty, and you're son is absolutely perfect. If I think about dating I promise he's the first one I'll go to." She smiled at her apologetically, "I'm just not in the right place dating right now."

Avantika looked dejected at Naina's words, "I'm going to be hoping you change your mind." She turned her gaze to Mahi, "so where's your family from, dear? Are they here or in India?"

There was something about Mahi that caused interest to pique within Avantika. She was so quiet and demure, and Avantika couldn’t help but wonder what she must be thinking for her to act in this manner. Matters not, she still seemed like such a good person. Besides, Naina wouldn’t have trusted the younger woman if she didn’t have a good heart, right? She sighed at Naina’s response. “That’s too bad. I would like for one of my sons to date at least. They’re both too invested in their careers. You’ll change your tune soon, I suppose and until then, I’ll just wait patiently.”

Choosing to act like a fly on the wall, Mahi couldn’t be happier that Avantika had put her attention on Naina. She was here for Naina anyway? It just so happened that Mahi got caught in the net too. God, why did things have to be so complicated? Her attention went back to the older woman and she answered the question with a gentle smile. “Punjab. I’m from a very small town.”

Naina shot the elder woman another look of regret, this was why she wished Avantika wouldn't ask any more because she hated giving her the same response that would just disappoint her. Had she met Jace before Kabir, Avantika wouldn't have to try so hard to convince her to pursue Jace. "I don't blame them, Aunty but don't you worry, I'm sure soon enough they'll want to start looking for a partner."

Naina could see the curiosity peaking in Avantika's eyes over Mahi's brief responses, but if she noticed she didn't remark on it.

Avantika curiosity continued to grow over Mahi, and she wondered why the woman was so brief with her responses, "I take it your parents are in India then? You must miss them, huh?" Her tone warm as she inquired.

“They’re going to be old man before long and I want grandchildren before I become too frail to carry them.” Avantika stated with a sigh, resolving herself to a fate of having two sons who choose to remain single for the rest of their lives. Why could she and her husband not be the sort of parents to force their sons to marry? She supposed that she shouldn’t complain too much seeing as she’d raised responsible men. “Don’t wait too long, it’ll be a shame for such a beautiful woman to remain single. I’m sure you’d want children someday, wouldn’t you?” She said with a friendly tone.

“They are, aunty. I miss them every day.” Now more so than ever, but Mahi chose not to allow her emotions to show.

Naina chuckled at the woman's words, she couldn't blame her for wanting grand kids, "I have a feeling you have a long, long way to go before you become frail." She smiled softly at her, "yes, someday I would and I'm sure the urge will appear in your sons as well."

Naina patted Mahi's hands as she stated missing her parents, her heart squeezing and in fairness she understood because Naina missed her own except they refused to speak to her.

Avantika's eyes softened at Mahi, "well, if you ever need a mother figure, please don't hesitate to reach out to me. If you're really missing them, don't be shy come by and see me. They don't wish to come here?”

“With sons like mine, you never can be too sure. They’ll drive me to my grave early with their insistence to remain single.” She said in a teasing manner, although her love for her sons were apparent. “Let’s hope so. So far, Jace is always working and Aryan...after his failed engagement, let’s just say he’s not too eager to be in a relationship again.”

Mahi squeezed Naina’s hand in return, feeling a little better that despite not having her parents here, she still had her best friend who was more like a sister to her. Her head snapped to Avantika when she heard about Aryan. Failed engagement? What was that all about? Pretending to not be curious, she simply spoke of her parents and Avantika’s offer, “Thank you, aunty, I’ll do that and they do want to be here, but I can’t do that yet, at least not until I’m more stable.”

Another chuckle was heard from Naina, "you could always emotionally blackmail them, how long could they keep denying their mother?" She was jesting of course, "given what Jace accomplished, I'm not surprise he never let his mind wander elsewhere. As for Mr. Khurana, I'm sure he will find someone better." If Naina wasn't getting ahead of himself, then hopefully that person was Mahi. Something told Naina, Mahi felt a lot more for her friend then she let on.

Naina gave her friend a soft smile, before catching the look of confusion at Avantika's words, and it surprise her. Did Aryan not tell Mahi of his ex?

Avantika nodded, "I understand, you want to live a comfortable life here and they must be so proud of you, dear." They arrived at the restaurant a few minutes later and the three women walked inside and settled onto their tables. "Seeing as I invited you out, this is my treat, and I don't want hear any arguments because I'm your elder." Avantika stated firmly.

“Why have I not thought of that?” Avantika’s eyes twinkled at the idea. However, she knew that she wouldn’t go through with it. Her boys would probably laugh at her attempts of emotional blackmail. “It’s about time if you ask me. They’re both thirty years old and eligible bachelors. Other men are already married by now, but not Jace or Aryan, they’re determined to kill me.” She sighed dramatically.

While the two women spoke, Mahi wondered about the information that she just received. Aryan was engaged and she supposed it made sense now why he was so quick to jump into a no strings attached arrangement. Except, with his behavior towards her lately, she wasn’t sure what they were anymore. Were they friends still? Or did he want more?

“They tell me that they're proud of me every time we talk.” She stated, although a part of her wondered if her parents would hate her once they found out that she and Aryan were not really married. At least in the eyes of the law they weren’t. Once they were at the restaurant, she went back to being silent and simply smiled at the older woman’s orders.

Naina's chuckles continued more so at how dramatic Avantika was being, it was an amusing sight. "I'm sure its not to the lack of attention from women, but don't worry so much Aunty, one day perhaps even sooner they'll want to settle down."

Soon they were settled in the restaurant and Naina didn't fight with the elder woman on her order because she didn't want to disrespect her. One way or another, Avantika would get her way. "Yes, M'am." Naina told her rather amused.

Avantika continued her line of question but honestly she was curious of Mahi, and she did think this young woman would be good match for Aryan. After Radhika, even Avantika had wised up and learned to read women better due to her overprotectivenss of her sons. Both of these women struck her as kind and sincere women. "Tell me more about yourself, Mahi, what are you hobbies, interests?"

“I’m worried that they’ll only garner the bad kind of attention. Gold diggers are everywhere.” That was Avantika’s biggest worry that what happened to Aryan would happen again. Although she knew that her son was wiser now, he also fell in love too quickly which was the opposite of Jace, who never led with his emotions. Of course, that was a bad trait too which was why she was hoping that Naina would be able to win his heart somehow. To be fair, she was sure that Jace was enamored by Naina, it was just convincing the young woman to give him a chance that was proving to be difficult. “If you do, I’ll get dibs on making you my bahu.”

With her mind reeling, Mahi blinked when Avantika addressed her once again. “I study all the time, aunty, but when I have the time, I cook. Not very well, I’m guessing, but good enough to feed myself.” She admitted, feeling her cheeks reddening at her confession. “I also like to read.”

“Nonsense, I’m sure your cooking is lovely.” Avantika said kindly before turning to Naina, “What about you, dear? Any hobbies?”

Naina understood her worries, especially after knowing about Aryan, but she sure was he was now more cautious with who dallied with, lately it's only been Mahi "Yours sons are wise men, they won't make that mistake." She smiled, her heart racing at the term Avantika used, upon a time she would have been elated, "I'm extremely flatter and any woman be lucky to have you as her Shaas."

Naina smiled as Mahi nervously listed her interests, but still kept it as Mahi wasn't comfortable with all the attention on her. "She's being modest, Mahi cooks fabulously. She's certainly better than me."

Avantika smiled kindly at Mahi, "there's my evidence. What sort of books do you read?" Referring to Naina, before she asked Naina.

"Basically anything outdoors, yoga, hiking, swimming, you name it." Naina responded. "I've been wanting to take up sculpting. What about you Aunty?"

“If they were wiser, they would be married and have given their poor old mother grandbabies by now, but alas, I’m bound to end up with no grandchildren.” Avantika sighed dramatically, however, her eyes brightened at Naina’s words. “You know, we could make that happen… All you have to do is give Jace a chance. You two would make beautiful babies together.” She shot Naina a wink. Then again, the very quiet woman who was sitting next to Naina would make a good bahu to her too. If only she could get Mahi to open up a little.

“I’m not. She's exaggerating.” Mahi felt her cheeks reddened even more and she frowned at her best friend. “Lately, it’s mostly law, but I do like a good mystery or fantasy to unwind to.”

“Interesting choices. I’m surprised you don’t read romance books.” Avantika added before looking at Naina. “Ahh… You like to move. It’s no wonder you’re fit. I’m into socializing and volunteering. Sometimes, I go shopping, but I don’t make it a habit.”

Naina let out another soft laugh, "see, just do that in front of them they'll melt instantly." She quipped, playing along with her antics before shaking her head, "you are one determined woman, Aunty, but I'll keep your words in mind." A flash of pain passed through her mostly because as Naina sat there she was starting to realize just how badly she wished she could have all of this. Jace and a mother-in-law who was Avantika.

"I'm not exaggerating." Naina responded without missing a beat just before Mahi answered Avantika. Mahi had tried to get her to read, but they both learned quickly that Naina's interest didn't hold very long.

Naina grinned at her compliment, "glad you think so, there's something so peaceful about nature." She smiled then, "now, that I'm not surprised to here, and we'll definitely to go shopping together, Aunty. How's uncle doing?"

"I've tried, they're not buying it. Apparently, I'm not convincing enough." Avantika said with a frown. "I'm determined, but unfortunately for me determination doesn't mean I'll succeed." She smiled at Naina, despite feeling defeated because it was clear that the younger woman was not buying into her pleading.

"I'm not a romantic, Aunty." Mahi said, not seeing the need to lie about it. She had never been until things got complicated by the son of the woman currently questioning her.

That response had Avantika raising a brow, "that's odd, every girl I know these days wants romance and you don't?" She then turned to Naina. "I agree. The only problem with nature is all the bugs and bugs and I don't mix well together. Uncle is well. You should drop by to visit him sometime. In fact, I insist for you and Mahi to come by for dinner. I'll have the boys come home that night. It'll give you a chance to meet my other son, Mahi."

Naina chuckled, mostly because she couldn't argue seeing as she too had turned her offer of dating Jace down entirely. If she continued this path, she'd only dig herself a bigger hole and she hated saying no to this woman. However, her dating Jace was never going to happen, as much as she wished it wasn't the case.

"that's because my Mahi is here very special, and a realist." Naina teased her friend with a smile, although she understood why because the EA herself no longer believed in it. She chuckled at Avantika's remark of bugs, "they are annoying but mostly harmless if you leave them alone." She hesitated, but not wanting to be rude she nodded, "Good to hear. Does insist mean, we must go?" Naina teased.

Avantika had never met a more peculiar duo. Most younger women she knew liked romance, but not these two apparently, but it mattered not, she was still insistent on matching at least one of them with her sons. Naina would be the first obviously since Jace was clearly so smitten by her. Hopefully, Aryan would like Mahi, but first, she had to make sure the two met first. “Yes, I want you both to come to dinner. How about next Saturday?” She smiled at Naina and then turned to Mahi, “Will you come, Mahi? You’ll make my day if you do…”

At this point, Mahi felt like she might as well have died. The woman who was her mother-in-law had invited her to dinner so that she could meet her son, who she was supposed to not know. How was she supposed to act like she didn’t know someone she had grown really attached to? God, and she couldn’t even say no to Avantika seeing as the woman seemed relentless. “I’ll go, aunty.” She said quietly, gripping her best friend's hand for dear life.

Naina froze because of how soon that invitation was but she was more worried about Mahi, because while Avantika knew Naina and Jace were friends. She had no clue Mahi and Aryan knew each other as well, but she imagined Mahi would given Aryan a heads up and Naina would do the same for Jace. She smiled at the woman, "of course, Aunty, we'll be there." Naina felt Mahi's hand find hers and she squeezed it reassuringly, giving her friend a comforting smile as she too accepted the elder woman's invitation.

Avantika gave them a bright smile, "excellent, you both are too sweet." And lunch carried on this way with the three continuing their chatting until the roommates part ways with the woman.

COMPLETED

#mahi x naina #//lmao how apt is this title tho? fhsd;lajf

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kiruuuuu · 5 years

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Oneshot in which Conrad deals with the aftermaths of surviving the Ourang Medan. ...more or less successfully. (Rating T, angsty rambling, ~2.3k words) - written for @wintergirlsoilder2! You requested a Conrad-centric piece and I hope you enjoy it :)

“I don’t think it’s a good idea”, says Julia with this expression on her face she gets whenever she’s about to rain on his parade.

“Are you kidding?” He’s about to scoff but stops himself – she’s worried, he can tell, and he knows better than to make light of any part of their relationship. Julia’s accompanied him his entire life. “Halloween is my favourite holiday, I’m not gonna let some lame ghost ship – which we survived, by the way, hello – ruin it for me.”

She lifts an eyebrow. “Connie, your birthday is your favourite holiday. It’s the Fourth of July, so you can double-drink yourself into a coma.”

Well. She’s not wrong. She never is where he’s concerned, and it’s one of the reasons he wants to get away from her, just for an evening. Just for a night, he wants to be whatever he chooses to be instead of being Julia’s brother. “It’s gonna be great, Jules. Keep worrying like that and it’ll show on your face.”

She’s silent. She could bring up the times he’s woken up screaming, his tic of brushing over his ear with his thumb, the one really bad day when he stopped breathing for a long while and then puked his heart out. She doesn’t. And the fact that she doesn’t explains why they’re still rooming together, despite all.

“I don’t think Alex wants to marry a worry-wart”, he keeps going, unprompted, just can’t stop running his mouth, “he wants to live together with the free-spirited, reckless, adventurous Julia who doesn’t mind her brother attending a Halloween party without her playing chaperone.”

It hits the mark. Like having touched open fire, she recoils and drops the subject and he almost, almost feels bad. They’re going through a rough patch right now, following the time during which they were attached at the hip right after coming home. It’s nothing they won’t overcome, Conrad can tell they’re too committed to each other, but it’s a sore spot nonetheless. And he just twisted the knife. So to speak.

He wouldn’t say he’s friends with the guy organising the party, but he knows a few people here and there – not enough to have earned a reputation, enough to feel invited. Bringing booze is an automatic ticket to being welcome anyway, and the greeting at the door seems heartfelt. After a few semi-awkward moments (and those have been common lately, he sometimes doesn’t notice the morbidity of his own jokes until shocked expressions drag him back to the real world), he’s found his social legs again and strikes up casual conversations here and there, drops one-liners which are met either with eyerolls and groans or half-hidden giggles and hearty laughs, and if he’s honest he doesn’t mind either. He’s always preferred being memorable over being modest.

Some people are in costume, most aren’t, but the home décor screams tackiness: spray-on cobwebs, badly carved pumpkins with half the candles out already, a mat under the carpet which lets out a witch’s cackle when anyone steps on it. Apart from that, the house is gorgeous, a large pool, a sunroom and even a tiny home cinema stuffed into the three-storey family home – family not included, apparently, all of them gone except for the son taking advantage of their absence.

Somewhere between the second and third beer, he considers texting Fliss. Asking her whether she celebrates Halloween, maybe, though it’d set her off again. Thinking of her causes his stomach to drop with the guilt of dragging her into the whole thing, the guilt of never again bringing up that investment he genuinely considered back then. She told them to never contact her again and keep their mouths shut. They have, for the most part.

The most part meaning everyone but Conrad.

“Do you want to know how I lost part of my ear?”, he addresses a small group of cute freshmen who were struggling to un-stack some chairs until he arrived and gallantly lent his aid. “It’s a long one, though, I must warn you. And not for the faint of heart – but you ladies look like you can take it.” He wiggles his eyebrows and they’re captivated, expecting a ghost story and a ghost story they shall get.

He fucking loves recounting the whole thing.

When Julia caught him the first time, she was livid for days, had a few one-sided screaming matches and tried to get Alex to talk sense into him, but Conrad laughed it off. No one’s gonna believe me, he said cheerfully. What, they’re gonna fly over and check? Launch an investigation? Tell their lawyer daddies?

Brad says it’s his way of coping with the trauma: by turning it into a spiel, he diminishes its significance, reduces its impact on him. Or tries to anyway. Brad also says it’s not a very effective coping mechanism. But Brad says a lot and Conrad doesn’t listen most of the time.

He’s too busy being the hero of his own story.

This night, he embellishes, dramatises, acts out what he usually glosses over, sugarcoats nothing. It’s Halloween and they expect a thrilling, gory tale, so he allows them the full experience – several times, he has to interrupt himself and give a brief thus far because of all the newcomers gathering around him like a bloodthirsty audience at an execution. God, it feels fucking good.

How their eyes go wide the moment he mentions the pirates. How their lips part subconsciously when he ditches escaping on the boat, alone, in favour of saving his friends. How none of them dares moving as he describes the military ship in great detail. In this moment, they’re living through it by his side; they’ve been transported to the ship themselves, feeling the clammy air, the cold, unforgiving metal under their bare soles. Wrapped around his little finger, he builds and builds and builds for them until they almost forget to breathe, and finally, inevitably, he releases them with a happy ending. It looks like a cathartic experience, and slowly, they return to the present, shaking their heads a little like a dog getting rid of raindrops, glancing at each other to gauge whether they were the only ones so tightly in Conrad’s grip. He’s convinced them all he’s a hero, a martyr, a protagonist.

All of them except for himself.

“That’s a fantastic story”, someone says appreciatively. “Do you have any others?”

And this is where his carefully erected self-importance crumbles. Because he lived it. He fucking lived it, you asshole, he’s got the scars to prove it and the memories so he’ll never forget, and still this dimwit beams at him like he’s the new Spielberg or King, fudging narratives out of thin air to please the crowd. “Sorry, dude”, he replies with as much venom as he can muster, “I only had the one horribly traumatic experience in my life. I understand that might not be enough for you, so my apologies. Maybe I can set out to almost get murdered next time – oh wait, that already happened.”

The atmosphere tilts together with him. People seem confused – is he method acting? Getting pissed because they’re not giving his well-spun yarn the credit it deserves? He should stop. He really should.

“If you want more thrill in your life, why not come and fight a guy who’s got nothing to lose, huh? Certainly beats doing the same meaningless shit over and over and over again.”

“Dude, chill, I didn’t mean to -”

“Yeah fuck you. Fuck off.” He’s washed into the kitchen by a wave of concerned partygoers and appeased with a few sips of the badly-hidden whiskey belonging to the head of the family, and after no time at all he’s back to his good-natured self.

Largely. He feels sharper ever since he survived that stupid ship, more cutting. Less forgiving. As if the world owed him after what he’s gone through, and he lets those around him feel it. Remarks hit where it hurts and he realises with increasing worry that he doesn’t care. They will never experience the same gut-clenching terror he did, so what’s a snide comment here or there?

There are moments in which he resents Julia. They frighten him, yet staving them off is impossible. It’s not her fault she’s found her happy ever after, he can’t blame her for having Alex anchor her. Alex is perfect and he should share their happiness, at the very least leech off it so his empty everyday life isn’t as bleak anymore, but instead he watches them with jealousy he frantically conceals from everyone.

He knows he’s spoiled. But he can’t help the pangs of contempt whenever they laugh about something, or Alex plucks something out of her hair, or she falls asleep in his arms during a muted commercial break. She always got over things more quickly, even if it never seemed that way. Conrad carries a lot around with him, most of which he refuses to acknowledge.

And then someone suggests going to a haunted house.

“Sure, man.” He laughs, and it sounds as easy as he intended. “Nothing can be scarier than what I’ve been through.”

The door’s locked.

He fucking knows the door’s locked.

In between deep breaths, he turns around and checks again, slides the deadbolt shut two more times, rattles the handle, turns the key as far as it will go. It’s locked. It’s secured tightly, and no one will be able to get in.

He has to force himself to walk away and though his legs carry him, he’s unsure where to go. He could go shower, that way no one will hear his quiet sobs, or he can be a fucking man and not cry like a baby over something that wasn’t even fucking real.

Having once read that eating counteracts anxiety as it tricks the body into thinking it’s not in danger, he sneaks to the kitchen and stuffs himself on fruits until he’s vaguely nauseous.

He’s such a fucking idiot. An idiot and a failure, a good-for-nothing, someone who can’t even figure out what he wants to do later in life. Who he wants to be. Certainly not Conrad the crybaby, Conrad the expert storyteller who nearly pissed his pants in a shitty haunted house.

He double checks the shutters, then turns to leave. Checks them again.

God, he’s pathetic.

For the first time in his entire life, he sends a u up? text to a guy. It doesn’t make him feel any less sorry for himself, but he couldn’t stomach Julia’s concern right now. The worst thing would be the compassion in her eyes instead of the triumphant I-told-you-so attitude. He’d welcome a smug grin more than a hug right now.

I am now, comes Brad’s response. Yikes.

sry, Conrad writes back, and then he’s stumped. Why did he contact him in the first place?

A few half-typed and then deleted additions later, Brad apparently gets impatient and sends another message: How’s your Halloween been?

Alright, he can work with that. apropriately spooky, he replies, went to a haunted house. disapointing tho, no beer anywere

Brad is silent for so long Conrad considers whether he’s fallen asleep. Are you trying to prove to yourself that you’re over it?

He can practically hear Brad utter the question in his head – no irony anywhere, no intent to attack or accuse. Mere curiosity. Maybe this is why he texted him, because he certainly approaches most everything analytically, whereas Julia can’t help but make it personal. wat do u mean?

We’re all suffering from significant trauma, yet none of us are seeking thrills the way you are.

Conrad stares at the words for a long time. It’s been barely a week since Julia begged him not to pick any more fights.

A haunted house does not sound like an advisable place to go in your condition. Are you alright?

He deflates, sinks onto his bed and kicks off his shoes onto the pile of clothes in the corner. He doesn’t bother to switch off the light. He sleeps with it on anyway. yeah, he claims, and then: not realy actualy. i was more afected than i thought i would be. Flashbacks are a bitch. It didn’t help that some guy thought his distress hilarious, given his chilling story before – as if he’d be immune from any scares, forever. It turned out to be the opposite. Conrad used to love haunted houses.

Don’t dwell on it. Finding the right way to cope is difficult.

No judgement. Somehow, speaking to Brad is soothing his frazzled nerves. wat do u do?

I research. Mostly real accounts of people who have gone through comparable experiences, but also on the history surrounding the ship.

To Conrad, that doesn’t scream ‘moving on’. doesnt sound that helpful ether tbh

It helps rationalise and normalise what happened. Knowing what others went through, I feel less isolated now. This will not define who we are in the future, even if it might right now.

He re-reads the last sentence a few times. Thinks of the night terrors which rarely let him sleep. Of how he considered getting a dog despite none of them having the time to care for a pet, just so there’d be an additional line of defence, in a way.

He wants so bad to move past all this.

alright, profesor, lets hear it, he types and gets more comfortable on the bed. hit me with the sob stories.

It’s not like he’d be sleeping any time soon anyway.

#man of medan #conrad #julia #brad #conrad/brad #can be interpreted that way but extremely mild #fanfic #oneshot #if you don't know man of medan I recommend just watching a lets play without commentary #it's less than 4 hours #I liked the characters a lot more than in until dawn

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howrry · 5 years

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once in a lifetime

a/n: sorry for the hiatus, i can’t find the strain i used earlier this year that led me to churn out a ton of writing so this was a little painstaking. here’s older!harry. bon appetit

warning: do i even gotta warn you that there’s smut? nc-17

w/c: 4.5k

***

Harry's life post-fame was, well, not so great.

His stardom, in his eyes, appeared to have no end. His friends and family had expressed concerns all throughout his career that he was peaking too early, but it seemed that life only got better. More music, meeting more of his idols, more new fans and more arenas sold out before his eyes.

Unfortunately, he noticed that as he got older, his body just wasn't accustomed to the touring, drugs, and partying like it was in his youth. He had a heart-to-heart with himself and realized that his best option was to retire, which he did in his late 30's.

He even got married, to an elementary school teacher named Grace. One of his friends had set him up with her on a blind date and he liked how predictable and simple she and her life were. She was such a nice change from the hecticness of his life before, and ended up engaged after only 9 months of dating (much to his fans' dismay).

But sadly, all that glitters is not gold. After less than three years of marriage, Harry and Grace seemed to be fighting more often than they got along. They argued over everything in the books; money, physical absence, their families, substance abuse, sex, the idea of having kids, the idea of not having kids, commitment, the list went on. Eventually it was clear that Harry was much more invested in the relationship than she, which devastated him. Regardless, he pushed on.

One night, when the air in his household was thicker than molasses, Harry went into the master bedroom of his home. He pulled his shirt over his head and dropped his trousers. He climbed into bed where Grace was reading a novel. She didn't move, or look over, or even acknowledge that her husband had joined her.

"Grace?" he asked softly. Still no reaction.

He was scared. Sure, he and his wife fought plenty, but as of late, she barely spoke five words to him.

"Please," he begged, reaching out and delicately placing a hand on her forearm. "We don't have to do anything but please talk t'me. Something is clearly wrong. We haven't even spoken or had sex in w—"

"Is that all that matters to you? God, Harry, think with your other head for a change," Grace snapped, closing her book and yanking her arm away. She stood up out of bed and H heard her footsteps all the way downstairs. The telltale slam of the basement door indicated that she'd be sleeping in the guest room and he would be alone for the night. Again.

Harry's head dropped back down onto the pillow. He wasn't much of a confrontational person and hated these conflicts they had. Harry closed his eyes tight and hoped as hard as he could that the yelling and the ignoring and the disinterest would end.

And in some twisted way, he got his wish, because a week later, Grace slapped half-signed divorce papers in front of him on the breakfast table. She wouldn't entertain any sort of reconciliation; she just wanted to be separated.

The divorce was brutal. The soft, kind woman H had married just a couple years ago was gone and replaced with a cold, unloving person who wanted nothing to do with him.

As if the whole process in and of itself wasn't bad enough, Harry didn't realize that Grace would be getting the house until far too late into the separation. Her lawyer even patronized Harry-- you're an ex-rock star, I'm sure you can find a place to go. If it weren't for Liam providing him a place to stay in the meantime of finding a house, he really doesn't know what he would've done.

***

Harry knocked on Liam's door, hat in hand, and was greeted by his old friend who pulled him into a hug.

"It's been too long, mate," Liam noted, before guiding Harry into his home.

"Y/N, get down here!" Liam called, and seconds later she bounded down the stairs.

It had been ages since he'd seen Liam's daughter, Y/N. The last time he'd been around Li and his family, she'd been 14 and was in the moody teenage stage, but she was so different now. She was taller and her hair was longer, and she'd filled out quite nicely judging by how well her tennis skirt fit her--

Whoa, he caught himself. That's his friend's daughter. What was wrong with him?!

"Show Harry to the guest room," Liam told her, shaking H from his terrible thoughts. "Until then, I'll pour us some scotch and we can catch up," he said to Harry before heading off to the lounge.

Harry followed Y/N upstairs and down the hallway to the plain yet comfortable room. She opened the door and gestured for him to go inside, tossing her hair and lazily swinging the door behind her-- not quite letting it shut, though.

"Sorry that it's not exactly Caesar's Palace," she joked. "Since Mom died, my dad just let the importance of interior design slip away."

Harry waved her concerns away, setting his bag on the bed. "Nonsense. This was really nice of you two-- I'd sleep on a couch if I had to." She giggled at this before turning towards him.

Y/N looked up at Harry and gave him the look. It wasn't one he'd seen since his younger days, when girls and guys alike in clubs wanted to bed him for the social status. They lowered their eyelids slightly, cocked their head, and the corner of their mouth would tug up a bit in the hopes that it would make him immediately swoon. It never worked on H because he wasn't stupid, but he still recognized it to this day. Harry had no option except to match her eye contact, as he didn't trust himself to not let his eyes wander down to her V-neck.

Before he could say or do anything, Y/N breezed past him. "Dinner will be ready in thirty," she noted, brushing her hand down his arm as she left the guest room.

What the fuck?

Harry went back downstairs to join Liam and his two snifters on the table. His daughter was nowhere in sight, so he assumed she was in the kitchen. Liam droned on about how he was doing (probably in an attempt to take H's mind off his divorce) but, frankly, Harry wasn't really listening.

There's no way Y/N is trying to seduce him. No way. He's just... not been with a woman in a long time and is a little rusty with the signs. I mean, get real. He's almost 40 and she's, what, 18? 19? What would she want to do with him?

Dinner ended up being fajitas, good comfort food. Halfway through the dinner, though, Y/N innocuously gave up on using a tortilla and ate the filling with her hands. In any other scenario, Harry would find this to be in poor taste, but the way she made eye contact with H while licking the seasoning off her fingers made him forget all about table manners.

"... and the pap actually followed me into the locker room of my gym! I ripped him a new one. Yelling about how I haven't made music in a decade and left the band twice that much time age, and when they'll ever leave me alone. On the bright side, I think I flipped the bird in enough of his shots that none of them saw the light of day!" Liam had been telling a story which H had completely zoned out from, but luckily caught on to the part meant to be a joke. All three of them laughed together, though only one was genuine.

***

Harry couldn't fall asleep.

It didn't have any natural explanation; he didn't have any caffeine after three, he had a nightcap with Liam, and the finalization of the divorce should've led to him getting more sleep, right? Nonetheless, after hours of tossing and turning, he'd essentially given up and resorted to watching the fan lazily spin around. A sudden knock on his door spooked him, and when the door creaked open, Y/N's head popped in.

"Hey, Harry?" she asked softly.

"Yeah?" he grunted, sitting up. "'S everything alright?"

She entered without permission and sat on the edge of his bed. In the light of the bright moon outside he could see she was in a sheer white gown that just barely reached her mid-thigh. Scandalous. "Couldn't sleep."

"Same boat," he admitted, leaning back on his elbows. Her face was bare, clean of the makeup she'd had on earlier. She looked so fresh and healthy and her white nightgown gave her skin a sun-kissed appearance

Y/N sighed, her eyes wandered over his entire body, or at least all she could gather in the dark room. "Can I ask you a question?" she started, a delicate hand creeping on Harry's knee. "It's kind of... personal."

He swallowed thickly. Was it bad that just her hand on his leg made his cock twitch? "O'course. What's up?"

Y/N pursed her lips before releasing them and darting her tongue out and in. "You've had lots of sex, right?"

And he nearly choked on his own breath. She's so... straight to the point. He managed to keep his cool and nodded carefully. Where was she going with this?

"Well... I haven't," she continued, her hand sliding up his thigh just a little. "I've been seeing this guy, and he's great and all, but he's not too good in bed. I wanna do things with a man who knows what he's doing before I go back to the losers my age who... don't. Would you show me what it's like?" Her soft eyes lifted to meet his, and he couldn't believe his ears.

"Y/N... I-I don't know." Harry rubbed his eyes with the heels of his palms, as if to make sure he wasn't hallucinating this whole thing. It took him a bit to appreciate that she really had been trying to seduce him and he wasn't just going crazy.

He thought over it for a second. "It seems so wrong. I mean, the age gap is one thing, and your dad is another, but if you're already in a relationship I just...," he trailed off, not quite finishing his point and scanning your smirking face.

"He'll never know," she shrugged casually. "Not Alex or my dad. It's just a one time thing and it won't happen again."

He dragged a hand down his face, thinking over her proposition. At first glance, the cons of possibly getting caught greatly outweighed the pros. How many moral guidelines would he be breaking if he took her up on her offer? On the other hand, he hasn't had sex in what felt like ages, and when would he get this kind of chance again? He was getting up there in age and, despite his ex-star status, likely wouldn't have an attractive young woman throwing themselves at him ever again.

Fuck it.

"I- alright. What did you have in mind?" Harry's cock was starting to harden in his pants and he prayed that the angle his knee was at was hiding it.

Y/N smiled delightfully. "That's why I came to you. I don't just wanna do stuff, I want to learn. You show me."

Harry was gonna die from this girl. "Fuck, pet, you're gonna wreck me. Do you wanna... I don't know, start by sucking me off?"

"Yes please," she whispered, and there was officially zero blood left in any other part of his body.

"C'mere then." She clambered over the bed and his legs until they were face to face. He cupped her face in his big hands and connected their lips. Her lips were so soft and he wasted no time deepening the kiss followed by flicking the tip of his tongue on hers.

She pulled back to breathe. "You're fucking good at that," she blurted.

He smiled-- couldn't help it. "Then we should keep doing it," he suggested. They giggled together and she wrapped her arms around his neck. They continued making out, Harry leaning back until Y/N was laying on top of him.

One of her hands crept down to feel him in his boxers, cupping his erection. He moaned into her mouth, and she popped off his lips, making a juicy sound. She shifted down and toyed with his waistband before hesitating.

"I've only done this once, so..." she started, eyes avoiding him, "you may need to show me what to do."

"S'alright, pet," he soothed, cusping her chin and bringing her to make eye contact with him.

He sat back and took his boxers off, fleetingly embarrassed at his already-hard cock. It subsided when Y/N's eyes landed on it and her mouth actually dropped open. He grinned and took himself in his hand, pulling the foreskin down and swirling the precum around the tip. "See something y'like?"

She nodded and dropped down to be level with his member. "It's... big." Y/N gently took his cock and leaned in next to it to compare the size to her face. "How am I supposed to fit this all in me?" she asked innocently.

He groaned. "You sure y're new to this? Cause y're doing pretty damn well so far and y'haven't even gotten y'mouth on me."

She smiled and dragged the flat of her tongue from base to tip, making his head roll back. "Perfect, love. Act like you're trying to keep melting ice cream from getting everywhere." Y/N nodded.

Her tongue worked over every inch of him before finally attaching her lips to the head. She delicately sucked before getting the nerve to push down further. H's hand tangled in the hair on the back of her head and her mouth instantly became softer and over half of his cock slid between her lips.

"Fuck," he bit, emphasizing the K. Y/N liked hearing him swear because of what she was doing and was only spurred on. Maybe she was a little too excited, because she went a little too far down and came up coughing up a storm.

"Careful, doll," he cooed, rubbing her back as she regained her cool. "Do it at your own pace, not what you think I'd want." She nodded, teary eyes meeting his dark ones.

When his cock bumped at her lips again, she spit on it before going back to her comfort level. Her small hands gripped his base, where she couldn't fit her mouth. She acted like she didn't care how much of a mess she made and Harry thought it was so fucking hot. Her head lifted and lowered in his lap, obscenities slipping from H's mouth.

It got to a point where Harry was involuntarily bucking into her mouth, and he knew he was about to overwhelm her. If he kept letting her blow him, he'd cum down her throat any minute. "Fuck, love," he groaned, pulling her off him by her hair. "I think it's about time for your turn."

Y/N pouted for a second and he almost snapped. Her lips were puffy from sucking his cock, her eyes were watery, and her cheeks were pink and it took so much in him to not shove himself back into her soft mouth.

But she nodded and allowed him to pull the nightie off her body, exposing her breasts to him. He resisted impulsively grabbing at them as she rolled back onto the bed, hair fanning out below her. He climbed up and kissed her, tasting himself on her lips. He dragged his own mouth down her jaw and neck, past her collarbones and attached onto her nipple. One of his hands toyed with her other breast and her back arched beneath his body.

"Stay still," he ordered, breath ghosting over her skin. To further assert this, his free hand pressed her body back down onto the bed. She complied, but let heavenly noises slip from her.

Harry continued trailing down her body until he reached her white panties, which he grabbed with his teeth and dragged down her legs. He used his hands to get them off the rest of the way and spread her legs, exposing all of her to him. "So gorgeous," he said, almost to himself.

"Do you touch yourself?" he asked, eyes flicking up to meet hers.

Her cheeks were a soft pink, bashful at the sudden eye contact. "Yes," ghosted out of her mouth.

"What do you think about?"

Y/N pursed her lips momentarily. "Getting eaten out," she whispered. "No one's ever done it to me, but I bet it feels great."

Harry laughed at this, and placed two of his fingers on her clit. They dragged down her core to her already-wet hole and slowly made their way back up. His pressure was so light, yet her heightened sensitivity had her head roll back. "Go on," he hummed.

Y/N sucked air through her teeth but obeyed. "Sometimes in porn, they 69 and I think that's so hot," she rushed out. "Like, both are getting pleased and moaning into the other--oh God," she whimpered when he momentarily dipped his middle finger inside her, only to pull it right back out.

Harry raised an eyebrow. "Y'watch porn, hmm?"

It was Y/N's turn to smirk. "Everyone does." H pressed his finger slightly harder against her button and her back arched involuntarily.

His free hand pushed her back down again. "I said to stay still," he muttered, face hardening for a moment. "What else do you like to see?"

She gnawed on her bottom lip. "When they fuck missionary, I think it's really sweet when they make eye contact, but..." she trailed off.

"But what?" Harry pushed on, dipping his middle and index finger in this time.

"But... but I like when he fucks her from behind more. And it's really rough. And the girls cums all over his cock." Y/N exhaled, closing her eyes.

"Fuck, love, you're filthy," he noted. Harry spread her open and paid exclusive attention to her swollen clit, making her gasp as his rough fingers circled and flicked over it.

It was almost too much-- she was so sensitive she couldn't help but grab at his wrist to try and stop his actions. This finally got him impatient. He gripped her hand and huffed darkly, "Grab at me again and I'll tie you to this bed." Y/N's eyes were wide as saucers but her hands retreated and she allowed him to continue playing with her.

Without warning, H plunged his first two fingers into her down to his knuckles. He drew circles with his fingertips inside her pussy, stretching her open while stimulating every angle. Every four or five rotations, he hooked his fingers up to press against the spongey spot that had her whimpering and shaking.

"F-feels so good, Harry," she whined, struggling not to touch him and desperate for more. Her head tossed from side to side, as if to hide her moans and contorting face.

"Yeah?" he purred. "Y'like feeling m'fingers buried inside your tight little cunt?" Y/N nodded, slightly grinding her hips down. He allowed this, thumbing at her clit as she grabbed at the sheets.

Harry drew his fingers from her, and she groaned at the suddenly empty feeling. "Shh, love. Let's try something new." Her eyes confusedly begged for an explanation.

As soon as he uttered that number, Y/N's face brightened, she moved to let him lay on the bed and climbed so that her core was just above his face. She took his member in her hand as he grabbed at her ass with his big hands. The two of them dove into the other with carnal ferocity. Harry ate her like she was water in a desert, and this angle allowed his cock to slip right down her throat. The two devoured the other until the only sounds in the room were the slick noises of their own arousal and their muffled moans.

Y/N had never experienced this kind of raw pleasure before. He circled his tongue around her clit and, at the same time, pushed two fingers into her. She began to get a little greedy and pushed back against his face. He encouraged this, taking his fingers from her and wrapping his arms around her thighs and pulling her back on him. It wasn't long before she couldn't even focus on him anymore and virtually began riding his tongue. Her wobbly arms straddled his torso as he continued eating her out with the sounds of her gasps mixing with his mouth on her wet peach.

"Oh my God, I'm gonna--" she stuttered before reaching her high. Harry's tongue dove even further into her, letting her ride out her orgasm on his face. Even after she'd finished, he continued to lick into her.

Y/N rolled off his face and away from him. When he reached for her, she kept him at a distance with her arm extended. "I'm so... so..."

"Sensitive," he finished in a breath. She fell back onto the bed and he hovered over her. "When you come down, I want to be inside you."

Her jaw dropped at his boldness, but truthfully it was exactly what she wanted. After a few moments of her catching her breath, she laid back down on the bed and Harry towered over her. He caught glimpses of nervousness and leaned down to kiss her.

"Are you a virgin?" he asked, breath ghosting over her skin.

She shook her head. "No, but I'm not that... y'know..." Her eyes closed as she trailed off but Harry understood.

"Shh, s'alright. I'll be gentle," he promised. He lined himself up with her hole. "Are y'sure you want this?" he asked, just in case.

"Yes, please," she whined, and once given the green light, he inhaled sharply before gently pushing himself forward. The few seconds it took to fit his whole cock in her were perhaps the longest moments of his life. She was just so fucking tight, he had to count backwards from 100 to keep from harshly snapping his hips into hers.

Before he knew it, he looked down and his entire cock was buried in her cunt. He didn't dare move, allowing her to adjust before he really took off. It was so snug he thought he was about to go blind. Even with all they had already done, he still felt some level of disgust with himself.

Nonetheless, he couldn't stop.

She clenched around him, trying to hide her grimace. He leaned down to coo in her ear, "Shh, baby, take your time." H carefully kissed around her jaw and rubbed his hands up and down the sides of her body while continuing to stay still until she whimpered out one lone word. Move.

He straightened up again and reeled his hips back, revealing his cock now glistening. Harry pushed it back into her slowly causing her jaw to go slack and a soft moan to escape.

What really was the cherry on top for her was just the raw feeling of a cock inside her. The drag of it retreating and thrusting back into her, the empty feeling it left on the backstrokes, the tip pressing against the one spot inside her leaving her speechless. Sure, she'd played with herself and some boys had had the privilege of filling her with their fingers and whatnot, but nothing in her life had compared to a grown man stretching out her cunt with his thick cock.

Harry was shamelessly staring at himself disappearing into her walls and Y/N grinned. "Y'like watching yourself fuck this young cunt, hmm?" she teased, one hand grabbing the bedding and the other digging into his bicep.

"You've got a dirty mouth, y'little minx," he gritted out, a hand snaking up and gripping her throat as he continued fucking into her.

A devious smile crept up on her face, both frightening Harry and making his cock twitch. "Flip... me... over," she begged, voice straining through Harry's fist around her neck.

He nodded and pulled his cock from her. He moved back on the bed to allow her to lay on her stomach. Harry grabbed her hips and yanked her up on her knees and rubbed the tip of his cock up and down her slit to collect her arousal.

She arched her back and turned her head so that she could watch him fuck her. Her fingers clenched the sheets as he pressed the tip against her entrance before slowly sliding himself in again. Every thrust pushed her further into the pillows before he finally gave up and grabbed her by her hair, pulling her up so that her back was flush with his chest. The hand not tangled in her hair snaked around the front of her body for stability as he continued roughly fucking her.

He released her hair and brought the hand around to dip his fingers into her mouth. "Get 'em nice and wet, doll," he ordered and she complied, licking and sucking at his fingers until they were soaked. He trailed this hand down to her clit and began rubbing circles without breaking his rhythm.

Both of them were getting nearer to their orgasm, evident by Y/N's legs starting to shake beneath her and Harry's thrust becoming more and more erratic. "I'm g-na cum a-gain," Y/N choked out.

"Jus' a bit more, darling, and I'll fill your little pussy up," he hissed into her ear, which only made the both of them closer. Soon Y/N cried out so loud Harry had to smack a hand over her mouth, and his hips awkwardly stuttered as both of them came.

He drew himself out and both of them collapsed on the bed to catch their breath. Neither of them knew what to say or even think about what just happened.

Y/N shakily sat up after catching her breath."I can't stay here, or I'll fall asleep and my dad will catch us in the morning," she noted. "Thank you for that, Harry."

He snorted. "I should be thanking you. I haven't cum that hard in a long time."

She didn't respond, and it was quiet in the room for a few moments before Y/N finally broke the silence. "I think I have to break up with Alex," she muttered, slipping the nightgown back over her head and going to the door.

Panicked, Harry sat up on his elbows with his eyebrows furrowed. "What? Why?" His mind raced. Did she now regret doing this and felt guilty, maybe? Had he just made a huge mistake?

She stopped at the door, her hand on the knob, and turned to him. "Because every time I'm gonna be with him in the future, I'm gonna be thinking about what just happened," she explained with a grin before leaving and closing the door behind her.

If it weren't for the mind-blowing sex he'd just had and the sound of the fan soothing him to sleep, he probably wouldn't have let her leave.

#Harry Styles #Harry Styles Fan Fiction #harry styles one shot #harry styles writing #harry styles smut #harryforvogue #jawllines #haroldloverboy #seriously guys whatever weed my guy had back in january/february was like talent in a plant #i would sit at my laptop and write THOUSANDS of words of Hontent #unfortunately for most of them once i got 1/3 of the way thru i got a new idea and abandoned the old one #i try to go back to them but it's a clear distinction of what i wrote in my manic frenzy and what I'm forcing myself to write #anyways sorry if you read all these tags i hope you enjoyed!

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outweek30 · 5 years

Photo

Is adoption an alternative for lesbians and gays seeking legally-sanctioned relationships?

When John and Craig met in an Upper East Side bar in September, 1980, it could have been another classical Manhattan tale of two tricks passing in the night. The pair had little in common. Craig Burns was blond, boyish, 23. He was between jobs, visiting friends in New York. John Eberhardt, 58, was a Fire Island pioneer, having hammered together scores of beach houses in Cherry Grove during the 1940s before constructing his own wedding cake of a mansion, The Belvedere.

Nonetheless, John and Craig did what mismatched people often do. They fell in love. The next week John invited Craig out to the island and, as Craig recalls, "I kinda never left." This past spring, months shy of their ninth anniversary, the couple went one step further to acknowledge their relationship; Craig Burns became Craig Eberhardt. In a judge's chambers in West Palm Beach, John legally adopted his lover. Craig became his son.

* * * *

Adoption is yet another alternative for gays and lesbians who seek legal recognition of their relationships. Many do it to ensure financial protection for lovers in the event of their death; others see it as the only same-sex union likely to be sanctioned by the law in this era.

But adoption is not a foolproof shelter against the bigotry of our legal system. In the early 1980s in New York State, gay adoptions caused a stir in the legal system, challenging the definition of adoption and provoking progressive decisions in two important cases: Adult Anonymous I and II.

In the latter, handled by Lambda Legal Defense Fund's William J. Thom and heard in 1982, a 32-year-old male petitioned to adopt a 43-year-old. Partial motivation was financial; the building where the pair lived was going co-op and the landlord was evicting those not on the lease. Initially dismissed by Family Court, City of New York, the petitioners appealed the case to the State Supreme Court Appellate Division. The decision was reversed and petition granted, since the Family Court decision was based on its narrow interpretation of the nature of family, not the adoption statute itself, which expresses no limitations. "The 'nuclear family' arrangement is no longer the only model of family life in America," the decision challenged.

In addition, constitutional law was cited, where homosexual relations in private are protected in New York under the right to privacy. Through some circuitous logic, it was proposed that a petition for a father-son adoption by two homosexual men raised the spectre of technical incest. However, it was ruled that "incest in general involves blood relatives." More facetious was the subsequent observation: "And, of course, the taboo against incest, grounded in eugenics, has little application in a relationship which can hardly result in offspring."

However, these legal strides were to be reversed two years later. The New York State Court of Appeals, filtering decisions through a screen of homophobia, effectively put a halt to overtly homosexual same-sex adoptions by lovers. In the Matter of the Adoption of Robert Paul P. in 1984, a 57-year-old man was denied his petition to adopt his 50-year-old lover, although they had lived together continuously for 25 years.

Michael Lavery, a New York City lawyer and co-founder of the Lambda Legal Defense Fund, handled the case. Lavery, a consistent fighter for gay and lesbian rights, has argued cases for Dignity, the gay Catholic group, and Integrity, the Episcopal sect. He acknowledges the misstep made by the two lovers: they did not attempt to hide the sexual nature of their relationship. The legal gay-bashing continued; the court questioned the validity of adoption as a way to halt an eviction. "It is nothing more than a cynical distortion of the function of adoption."

Most damning of all is this paragraph: "Adoption was never intended as a haven where parties might shelter emotional relationships for which no statutory provision has been made. If the homosexual relationship is to receive legal sanction as a family unit, such recognition must come from the legislature, and not the courts through the guise of adoption."

* * * *

John and Craig were inseparable during the first three months together. In December, the pair were visiting John's cousin, who is also gay, in California. Walking through the celebrated Forest Lawn Cemetery one sunny afternoon, observing the gaudy sculpture and meticulous landscaping, John and Craig came upon a small stone bench. Carved into the decoration was an Irish quotation about true love lasting forever. The lovers impulsively joined hands and recited the quote. "From then on, we decided we were a married couple," Craig said.

But both knew that a two-minute wedding in a cemetery held no legal weight. And as the years passed, and John and Craig grew closer, they began thinking about events that could separate them. The question of a legal relationship became more insistent this past year. A friend of the couple, a septuagenarian psychologist from Manhattan had successfully adopted his 54-year-old lover in order to pass on his magnificent Riverside Drive apartment after he passed on. At the age of 65, John was still hardy and working on constant improvements to The Belvedere. But the issue of a successor loomed, he recalled. Who would look after his 26-room palace?

"For one thing, passing on this empire" — Eberhardt assumes a mock hauteur to his voice — "it takes the right kind of person. I don't know who could do it, except for someone who is talented and capable. My older brother or sister just couldn't manage this, what with the milieu of the town, this gay world." Craig was the only choice.

Craig's concerns about a legal relationship with John were just as keen. "In the case of catastrophic illness, I would be John's next of kin and would have the say about his care and well-being, as opposed to a family throwing me out on the street and putting him in a nursing home." In addition, the pair learned that real estate passed on from father to son is taxed differently than it would be for a commercial transaction. John and Craig were amassing a list of basic rights afforded heterosexuals and denied homosexuals. After several talks with their attorney, who is gay, the two agreed to file papers for adoption.

John recalls the day he and Craig went to the courthouse for their petition, accompanied by their attorney. Amongst rows of mothers and fathers with their small children, John and Craig sat: a smiling gray-haired man of 67, with twinkling mischievous eyes, and a solid, big-limbed blond hunk of 32. Once inside the judge's chambers, Craig recalls, "I told the judge our relationship is like father and son." The matter of ownership of The Belvedere was sidestepped. "They seem to frown on people [petitioning adoption] for financial reasons. They prefer to have people doing it for emotional reasons." The issue of homosexuality was not broached.

Craig required written consent from his parents to agree to the adoption. "They knew that it was, in no way, a slighting of them. I still consider them my parents and our relationship is just as good as it's ever been. This was just a way for John and I becoming legally married like my sister and her husband." In deference to his folks, Craig Richard Burns legally changed his name to Craig Burns Eberhardt. The Burns knew of their son's homosexuality; he had come out to them at age 18 as a prelude to the announcement that he had fallen in love with a man and was moving in with him. The relationship lasted three months.

The final legal step in adoption is the destruction of Craig's original birth certificate, which resides in Chicago. Another one will be issued naming John as his legal parent. Ultimately, there will be no legal record of Craig ever being related to the Burns family.

* * * *

In the case of Robert Paul P., the court avails itself of the same self-reflexive homophobia that was employed in the Hardwick sodomy decision back in 1986. Observing that legislation did not include homosexuals in adoption laws any time since the laws were enacted in 1873, the court questions why the status quo should be upset. Another absurd leap of logic observes that since New York sodomy laws were overturned just in 1980, it seems unlikely that the same legislature would want homosexual relationships themselves acknowledged through adoption. Another decision went so far as to term the notion of sexual intimacy between adopter and adoptee as "utterly repugnant."

In most cases, the court expresses itself carefully in gay or lesbian issues. "Court people are sophisticated enough not to be overt," Lavery said. "The less overt are the ones most difficult to pin down and accuse of anti-gay decisions. No one will say, ‘We're not going to allow this adoption because they're a couple of fags.’”

But read between the lines. The court criticized the men for looking to adoption as a way to legally share a lease and prevent an impending eviction. The legal jargon was merely a smokescreen; once again the court was enacting laws that refused to acknowledge a same-sex relationship. In fact, Lavery points out, "the concept of adopting children is a product of the post-Victorian times." Beginning during the ancient Roman era, adoption was a legal tool for economic, political and social objectives, especially when a wealthy man did not have a natural heir.

But the issue of gay adoption prompts mixed reactions. Paula Ettelbrick, Lambda's legal director since 1985, considers it a flawed strategy, and a compromise to receiving basic gay and lesbian rights. "The effort of our community should be to obtain recognition for our relationships as they are, not subverting nor distorting them into parent-child relationships."

Lavery also has a diplomatic party line. Quietly, he suggests that same-sex couples who maintained the parent-child charade have had their petitions for adoption granted. "One should not assume that after the 1986 Court of Appeals decision, there have been no gay adoptions." After all, he points out, when there is no hitch to the proceedings, the request for adoption is kept confidential. There is no record of successful homosexual adoptions. It is only when the initial petition is denied and the decision appealed that the case finds its way into public record.

Lavery recalls one case where a successful professor in his mid-40s asked to adopt a man in his mid-20s after they had lived together five years. The older man presented himself as advisor and mentor; a role model that the younger man lacked as a child. When challenged as to whether their relationship was actually of a sexual nature, the younger man grimaced and told the court, "No way!" The petition was approved.

He offers an unsettling clarification: "If you were rich and powerful, [lover adoptions] probably could be done," but not for the average guy on he street. Lavery alludes to an internationally- known operatic composer who adopted his young lover, as well as a successful entrepreneur from Chicago who followed suit.

The recent State Court of Appeals case involving Miguel Braschi was a landmark case insofar as acknowledging gay and lesbian relationships. Braschi was awarded his deceased lover's lease after their 10-year union, but this decision will have no impact on the adoption issue, Lavery offered. The courts pulled their punch, he added, in extending the ruling to rent-controlled apartments, not rent-stabilized buildings. Gays and lesbians will still find the need to petition for adoption to maintain cohabitation or property ownership.

The gay psychologist who adopted his younger lover agrees on that count. The man, who requested anonymity, suggested that a real estate pressure group influenced the legislature in the Braschi case. "They've stopped people from using adoption as a way around the problem of losing your apartment if your name is not in the lease. Adoption should be a freedom."

When his lover of 25 years died, the man was left alone in the six-room penthouse apartment on Riverside Drive. Eventually he met his second lover, who moved in six months later. A rash of abusive letters from the man's landlord began to come, insisting that the lover move out since he was not on the lease. "They persecuted us for three years. That was the trick in those days," he said. "They thought the only way to get me out of the apartment was to separate me from my lover. We said 'fuck you' and went through the channels of adoption."

Officially, Lavery will not handle an adoption case where the same-sex petitioners are involved in a sexual relationship. The case is doomed, he insists. NMostcases I handle are done pro bono. It's not worth the time and effort if the case is denied without any advancement." The strategy of gay adoption "is not a winnable battle at this time," he added "A gay sexual relationship will not meet the legal definition of adoption."

"It's necessary to convince heterosexual judges, as well as other gays, that two gay men can have a relationship that is not necessarily sexual." The unspoken message here is: keep a lid on intimacy in court and the petition will sail through. Acknowledge your lover relationship and prepare for rejection. What advice does Lavery give his clients in this situation?

"There's a thin line between deception and downplaying," Lavery says. "If [the partners] can't be frank when the question comes up, it could be disastrous."

Ettelbrick points out alternatives to adoption, adding, "There are ways that we can take care of our vulnerabilities under the law." These include wills, power of attorney designation and conservatorships.

Lavery is guarded in his appraisal of the future of gay legal rights and the recognition of homosexual unions. “We have some ways to go; we are still too conveniently overlooked, unless somebody is waving a sign in your face, saying, ‘What about us?’”

* * * *

John and Craig are sitting in the breakfast nook off the kitchen of The Belvedere, taking a breather from last-minute renovations. By November 1, they will close up the castle and head to Florida to run another guest house called Villa Fontana. Craig ponders the longevity of their relationship, and feels it stems, in part, from a respect for fidelity during sexually liberated days. "We've always been just a monogamous couple," he explained, "and I think that's why it's worked for us this long. We made a commitment to each other, and this year we reinforced the commitment to each other."

— Jay Blotcher, OutWeek Magazine No. 18, October 22, 1989, p. 36.

#outweek #issue 18 #lgbt history #lover adoption #feature #jay blotcher #john eberhardt #craig eberhardt #cherry grove #the belvedere #homophobia #relationship recognition #marriage #photo #scott morgan #michael lavery

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multishipperlove · 6 years

Text

More from this lovely sastiel AU (shhh, I know I’m the only one who cares about this) bc I wrote this months ago, when I also posted the first thing, but meh... I’ll never complete anything written in my LIFE so might as well post my ramblings here. Complete backstories for this AU under the cut:

Sam and Cas meet at a support meeting for single dads or single parents in general. Claire is four, Jack just turned three a few days ago.

Sam and Jack – Sam met Jack's mother, Kelly, while they were both still at the beginning of their college careers. Jess had just died, leaving Sam grieving and not quite as emotionally stable as he would have liked. Due to this, and some other problems (drug use? Sam and Kelly both getting their fixes from Ruby, Sam sobers up after the whole pregnancy thing, realizing he's slowly loosing control. It takes time and a shit ton of effort, regular AA meetings, but he's probably never been as proud of himself as he's after “getting over” his addiction. He's aware that Kelly might not have made it), their relationship never really became serious, always being an on-off sort of thing. The pregnancy was definitely not planned. They talked about it, a lot, considering what possibilities they had and what they wanted to do. In the end, they made the decision to get an abortion. They agreed to split the costs and that Sam would drive her, as well give her all the support he could, emotional and otherwise. But the morning he arrived to take her to the clinic, she was gone. The only thing left was a letter, telling him she'd changed her mind and not to come looking for her. Nevertheless, Sam was worried sick and wanted to find her, if for nothing else than to offer child support or something. He took the letter to the police, but was told they couldn't do anything since she'd gone away willingly. During the next couple of days, weeks and months he kept trying to contact her, but kept running into dead ends. Eventually, he decided to stop trying.

About two and a half years later, when he was almost done with law school, she suddenly returned. One Saturday evening he opened the door to see her with a crying toddler on her hip, looking completely exhausted and Sam quickly realizes that she's probably also still using, or using again. She all but drops the baby off with him, telling him it's all too much and if he keeps screaming, she might hurt him. Before he can even ask for the little guy's name, she's gone.

The next few days are a blur and an eternity at the same time. He finds an envelope in the box she dropped off, containing some important papers and Jack's birth certificate. Jack is also the name stitched into the baby blanket the toddler won't let go off, and seeing the shaky stitching, Sam's pretty sure that Kelly did that herself. The next morning he goes shopping, and after that he drags Jack to every person who thinks might be able to help him. There's so much he needs to worry about, custody, whether the boy's going to stay with him or not, what the legal situation is, if the child is well, if he can even afford a damn kid because he still has six months of law school left and god knows it's not getting easier after that. It's Tuesday when he realizes he hasn't even called his brother yet, or any of his friends, and after dialling his brother's number with shaking fingers he has his first breakdown. But Jack has just fallen asleep in the new crib in his bedroom, so he tries to keep it quiet. Luckily, Dean already knows about the whole story with Kelly and seeing how freaked his little brother is, he manages to stay calm. He tells their “uncle” Bobby, the man who took them in after John threw them out, and asks for a few days off to help Sam get settled. Or find an adoption agency, whatever he needs. Bobby feels like he wants to yell at Sam for not calling sooner and tells Dean to get going.

Later, after being called to come back in by a doctor, Sam's told that Jack shows some symptoms that could come from drug consume during the pregnancy. However, without Kelly there to tell them what she took, they can't be sure and will just have to see how Jack develops. Cue Sam's second breakdown. After that, Sam notices that Jack is a bit slow at times, needing more time to understand things than other kids, and doesn't do well in social situations. He's a clingy kid, and at first very shy. Later he gets over that a bit but still remains socially awkward and too naïve for his own good at times. “I was almost sober for nine months, it was hell!” “'Almost'?!”

After about six months of living with the kid, Sam wouldn't give him up for anything. He's fully accepted his responsibility of being a parent and loves Jack with all his heart. Jack often asks for his mother, but with time it becomes less. Sam has a feeling that it's not the first time she's dropped him off somewhere without coming back for a while. He picks up his studies again, after having taken a leave for a few months, his professors/boss thankfully being understanding, and things seem to get back to normal. Bobby and Dean are already attached to Jack as well.

Then, in the middle of the day this time, Kelly is suddenly back. And she demands that Sam lets Jack go with her. Sam refuses, naturally, and tries to talk to her at first. About how much better Jack is doing in a stable home, how he'll need special care with some things that Sam will be able to provide once he's found a job, and how much he loves the kid. But Kelly starts to get hysterical, and eventually he's forced to throw her out. She threatens him, telling him she'll take it to court and that Jack is legally hers. As soon as he hears that Sam panics, suddenly realizing that he never did, in fact, look into the legal situation. Which is beyond stupid since he's a lawyer. So he rings up an old friend who went into family law and who knows about his situation, asking him for advice. At least until he can make an appointment with someone else, because right now he's desperate. When the first letter from Kelly's lawyer arrives, Sam's prepared.

The custody battle takes years, and Kelly refuses to give up. It's still going by the time Sam finds himself at the first support meeting, and he's still afraid that he'll have to give Jack up despite knowing that it would be ridiculous and that no judge would give Kelly sole custody after what she's done. He also tries not to take Jack to court appointments with him, knowing it's not fair on the little boy. He's offered Kelly early on that she can come and visit them though. So far, she hasn't.

One day his baby sitter calls in sick, or with an emergency of their own, and Sam isn't able to get a replacement in time for the court date. Not knowing how to help himself, but remembering that one of the other parents in the support group (a remarkable hot parent, but he tries not to think about that because what the fuck Sam, that guy lost his wife not too long ago) gave him their number to set up a playdate, he eventually calls Cas. Cas is more than happy to help out. Since Sam and him are both new in town, new in the support group, and their kids are almost the same age, he'd been hoping to hear from the man. If he can help out, all the better.

Sam doesn't know that, of course, and feels incredibly guilty for dropping Jack off at the other man's house. Once he gets back from the appointment, obviously exhausted and mentally drained, Cas even invites him to stay for dinner (since he just got done anyway, and oh, what a coincidence, he made too much). Sam keeps thanking him during the dinner and promises to make it up to Cas, maybe with a coffee or two when he's got the time. Neither of them is aware of the accidental flirting, like the exhausted idiots they are.

Cas and Claire – Castiel Jimmy Novak married what he thought to be the love of his live, Amelia Everett, when he was 18, because they were both from conservative families. And living together, out of wedlock, is a sin. They even bought a house, getting them several hundred thousand dollar of debt. And for a while, they were happy. Cas got a job as an accountant (he's good with numbers) and Amelia agreed to stay home and take care of the household. She was never really happy with that though, and things quickly started to go south when she wanted to take a job as well. Cas, as the head of the household, didn't want to feel like he couldn't take care of his family, and this was only one of the issues which kept coming up in their fights. But being the good Christians that they are, they wanted to make things work out and were willing to work on their marriage as well, even if it wasn't perfect. Their efforts were renewed once Amelia realized she was pregnant, and they were happy once more. Head over heels, actually. But Cas' blind faith as well as his blind obedience when it came to his own father or his boss still worried his wife, and she knew it wouldn't last.

And just like she had expected, about a year after Claire was born, everything took a turn for the worse again. Cas started to get more aggressive, yelling at her or even the kid when something didn't go his way, demanding obedience from her and dragging them around as if they were his property. She knew it wasn't right, and her friends kept telling her that it was abusive, and that her husband had some serious problems. Nonetheless, she stood by him. Until about another year later, when he started yelling at Claire, yelling at a two year old, at the table because she'd dared to reach for the food before they'd said praise. Trying to stay calm she'd gotten up, gathered her daughter and told Cas that she was leaving. He'd tried to stop her, of course, but he had never gotten physical. Which she was thankful for, otherwise she wasn't sure if she'd made it out that night. She knew her husband was going through a crisis, but that was no excuse for the way he'd been acting. She was able to stay at a friends house at first and told Cas that, if he ever wanted to see her and their daughter again, he'd need to change.

That was the first time Cas realized just how much he'd fucked up. He had known before, kind of, always feeling guilty after treating her like shit. He'd thought of his own mother, and how he'd sworn that he wouldn't become his father. Apparently, he'd failed in that regard. A few days later he called his family, to tell them what happened, only to learn that Amelia had now been shunned by her parents for being a disgrace of a wife and that both her parents and his parents were on his side. After a heated discussion with his father, that he didn't want their support and that he deserved what she'd done, that he was glad that she'd gotten Claire out of the house as well, he really decided to make a difference. First, he moved out of the house so Amelia and Claire could move back in. He got a small apartment and send every penny he could spare to his wife and child. And he started therapy, knowing full well (after already having gone through a bunch of psychology books as a teenager) that he wouldn't be able to break his own cycle of abusive behaviour without help. It took a lot of time, and several set backs, but eventually Amelia started to trust him again. At least she knew he was trying. Six months after Claire's third birthday, they agreed that he could move back in with them. The day before he did, Amelia was killed in a car accident.

Once again, Cas' entire world was shattered and this time he was the only one left to pick up the pieces. His family had turned away from him after he'd gone off at his father, and he'd never managed to find friends where he lived. Claire had always been a handful, and he had no idea how to raise a child on his own. For the first couple of months he stayed in the house with her, only going to work and to therapy, which helped him over the worst. Then he got a job offer in a different city, and the pay he was being offered was just too good to pass it up. So they packed their things, he promised Dr. Churley to find a new therapist, and off they went. Finding a therapist wasn't easy, but at least he found some support groups which he was sure would get him over the first couple of months. One that dealt with anger issues (though he mostly had that under control by now), one for depression, one for survivors of child abuse and... and one for single parents. And he thought why the hell not, he could need all the help he could get at the moment. At least one of these groups had to be good, and maybe even one good group would be enough.

When he got to know a certain Sam Winchester at his first group meeting, he was convinced that it had been the right decision. (Maybe later, Cas introduces him to the group for child abuse survivors as well because he realizes that Sam's got issues too)

Also, they'll both freak out a bit about being attracted to each other. Mutual Pining, naturally, with both of them thinking the other is straight.

Cas has issues because of his faith, Sam has issues because his bisexuality was one of the reasons he and his brother had to leave home. When John caught him kissing another guy in his room when they were supposed to be doing their homework, he'd freaked out. It had been one of the worst beatings Sam had ever gotten from his father, and that was saying something. Dean had found him at their secret hiding spot, still bleeding and trying hard not to cry his eyes out. For a moment, Sam had been afraid of his brother's reaction as well, but Dean had only hugged him and promised him he'd be save now. Then he'd loaded him into the Impala and driven them to Bobby, who'd already been waiting with open arms. Beyond a few overheard phone calls which mostly consisted of yelling, that was pretty much the last thing Sam had ever heard from his father.

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