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tirednotflirting · 2 years

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a fic rec list that quite literally no one asked for

I’ve felt incredibly uninspired lately with fic. It’s a shit feeling. I may just be done writing. TBD. But as I’ve been sitting around trying to determine my feelings on fic, I’ve found myself thinking a lot about how I read fic. I’ve been reading it for awhile. I like to think that even in the 5SOS space, I’ve read a really good variety of things. So I wanted to make note of the fics that come to mind when I think of fics that have inspired me/made me feel something/are just really good. This probably will not be very organized and I apologize for that now.

I’ve been very VERY lucky to get to know a few of the folks whose works I mention here. I feel so grateful to have had even small glimpses into your creative processes. Just before the world Stopped a couple years ago, I was shuffling toward a mindset of writing off fan fiction as a thing of my younger years and I’m thankful that so many people metaphorically hit me over the head with their incredible works.

there’s some 1D, 5SOS, Shawn Mendes, and also solo 1D boys in here. i think a lot of them are at least a touch nsfw at points but not all of them? yeah. i think everything that is is noted of on the pages they link to? certainly not an exhaustive list of my favorites but these were the ones on my mind today.

Okay, in probably a really strange, completely non-linear order, here we go.

sugar on the asphalt by @justanchorandhope

I genuinely cannot even begin to describe the love in my heart for this fic. this is the fic (and writer tbh) that kept me around on tumblr in 2013 and is the perfect example of everything i loved about 1D fic back in the day. an OC to die for, the perfect dash of so many different tropes, CUPCAKES, southern charm, it has it all. just the sweetest cast of characters. i cannot believe i was 15 when this fic was first posted and now i’m 24 and re-reading this still feels like a curling up with a cup of tea at the end of a long day.

okay basically everything written by @harryandmolly but specifically the following:

like the back of my hand + fear and loathing in mandeville canyon

okay so fun fact i was so thrown off the first time i read the first fic listed there (the second one listed is a sorta AU of the first one taking place in early pandemic/lockdown times btw) bc the OC’s bff uses the exact same nickname i used in high school. okay but Lilly is a GOD TIER OC. i love a story that takes place over a really long period of time + really shows the progression of a relationship. also super random but as a woman in my mid-20s with crazy unrealistic dreams of living in a big gorgeous house with all my friends, the descriptions of the house Lilly lives in make my heart sing. for a story that takes place in a totally normal version of the world, the world building (maybe the wrong term here idk) in this is so great.

i could write it better than you ever felt it

three words: warped tour au. no but seriously there’s this blanket of nostalgia over this whole fic bc of the setting that is so fucking fun (she says having never gone to warped tour but shhhhh). another bright and brilliant OC, SO many lovable side characters, really driving plot. reading this feels like summer in all the best ways. (+ a brilliant sequel of sorts.) perfectly captures silly punk boys + hayley williams is there just being the goddess that she is. my introduction to jasey rae lol. so many things and all of them so great.

the emancipation of ginny

got momentarily distracted reading the teaser sorry i’m back now. ginny: bad ass and gorgeous business woman lady navigating being the assistant for an international pop star who is also her ex. andrew gertler is so stressed the whole time. i like a story that jumps around in time and this one does it in such a unique way. the writing in this is STUNNING, i feel like i am in every scene feeling the misty fog in london and the sun in my eyes on a summer festival tour. a Masterpiece imo. also the niall in this is wonderful in all the ways he can be + taylor swift shows up for a minute.

perfect teeth by @stylesmoothie

why yes i am in fact linking you to MIBBA bc 1DFF was the only other place to really find this i think rip to our fallen hero and what a throwback adlskfjdsl. i am NOT joking when i say that i literally cried when people started reblogging around the final update for this a few years back bc it had been like 5 years since this fic was updated. this fic holds such a special place in heart (as so many 1D fics from this era do). ezra is a brilliant OC and her story is SO GREAT. something i loved about ~this era~ of 1D fic was how expansive the backstories for the OCs were and ezra’s especially just made me fall in love with her. i remember that reading the conclusion to this story (so many years after starting it) felt like this beautiful sense of closure. i had very few constants in my later teenage years but stories like this one were one of them. love love love this story.

(took a brief pause so anna and i could hunt down an old zayn fic from back in the day slkdfjlds leesh came to our rescue bless her)

nom de plume by @stylesprimes

another fic that truly feels like it just? defined an era of my life???? (just had to do some internet wizardry to verify this was a 2014 fic lol) another OC with just the most sick backstory and story told throughout the fic. in this era of fic i was a HUGE fan of the harry styles london indie crew kinda fic. could not tell you why aside from how fucking cool i thought alexa chung was. you really get to see everyone make mistakes and grow in this story which i really admire from both a reader and a writer standpoint. like that’s not easy to do sdlfkjdsl. i love all the twists and turns and it’s a story i love returning to every once in awhile. cecilia’s experiences in this are so so unique and i’ve never really read anything quite like this story. the dynamic between the characters and just the overall vibe of ndp has always been so novel. i love it.

scene 14 by @daydadahlias

this FIC OH MY GOD. so backstory: i feel like i was the last person to read jess fic esp this one like. i was so intimidated by the fact that everyone had already read this and i had all of this knowledge of the vibe and how much everyone loved this that reading this almost felt like being introduced to a friend of a friend, ya know? this fic is Stunning. like i didn’t think it would be possible to be so impressed by college au world building at this point in my life (i’ve been reading college AUs for like. literally over a decade) but this little world that jess created was SO immersive. these characters were all so bright and i loved and cared for each and every one of them despite how many there were. i laughed, i cried. reading this reminded me why i love fan fiction and i feel so SO grateful to be in this fic space at the same time as jess.

love would burn this city down for you by @calumcest

helen has shared so many amazing stories but this one is always going to be my favorite. there’s so much soul and heart and love in this short little piece. i barely have the words for it. i started writing myself bc i felt inspired by the space that helen was helping to create a couple years ago and it’s pieces like this that i think had a lot of influence on the style i would try to adopt in certain ways. she’s so great at showing love in the little, quiet ways. pieces like this one feel like a secret and i’m so thankful i get to be in on it.

another night of takeout by @roselirry

lol i’ve had the second part of this bookmarked on my computer for MANY years and just realized there was a third part to it i had never read. this is a niall fic, little slices of three different days from the perspective of Vee, niall’s assistant in a solo era world. reminds me of a lot of the reasons i love the emancipation of ginny. one of my favorite tropes, a bit of that ‘omg they’re so in love but just refuse to really fully acknowledge it’ kinda situation. only three little bits in this but through the bits of background you get such a FULL story (despite the fact that it’s technically not finished i think?). SUCH a comfort read, i’ve read this so many times that it feels like a cozy, worn cardigan. (also i’ve historically been SUPER picky with my niall fic and this one has really stood the test of time for me)

all the things yet to come by soysauceharry

so i’ve never been a big self insert fic kinda girl. i think i just started out with OC fic so it was just this foreign thing to me for so long. i’m also a very big character person so when a character is really vague for the purpose to trying to be easy to fit a variety of looks and/or personalities into, i struggle to find enjoyment in it at times. but jesus christ, this story is cool. for me, reading this story gives the vibe of like a dream where you’re watching yourself do something? so despite the fact that it’s written in the second person, i don’t feel like i’m watching the story from the eyes of the OC. also despite all of the ‘you’s i just have never read this as a true self insert. i have an MC in my head that is very much a unique character. MC is a graduate psych student, Harry is her graduate advisor for a min and then later just a colleague. follows MC through her graduate studies. the setting and the story are just so pretty and lifelike. i think i read this for the first time in the winter while i was still in school which added a lot to the vibe. i return to this whenever i want cozier vibes.

If you dance with me darling, if you take me home… Will we talk in the morning? by @kaleidoscopeminds

i love a meg fic for so so many reasons. i love this one especially bc the tone of it to me feels like how you tell the story of a fun night out. it feels fun and silly like the stories you tell the night after the night out about all the wild shit you did in the early hours of that same day. i’ve always been very fond of this fic because meg posted it when i was feeling very VERY down about the world and it just made me smile. this fic feels like laughs after shots idk how to describe it just good fun. she is the cake QUEEN but i always found so much inspo in her earlier lashton pieces. they remind me of all the good things about summer 2020. i’m glad they can still take me back to those times of first getting to know some of the folks that i just love so dearly now (baggy salt forever <3)

sail the wildest stretch by @beautifulletdownfics

holy shit y’all this story. the way this story is told feels so so unique. as i’ve gotten more into adulthood i’ve found myself appreciating stories like this a lot more. stories where adults are being adults and maybe shit romantically gets complicated but their lives don’t just get put on pause to resolve those complications. like that feels real, it makes sense. to me this has always felt more like a story about Amelia rather than AmeliaandHarry, which i appreciate and really enjoy. it feels like a very real thing - this super fabulous friend whose life isn’t as super fabulous as it appears. the characters in this are so human. they fuck up and have to figure out how to apologize for that. this is such a unique kind of fan fiction story and one that i will never stop recommending.

#no genuinely no one asked for this #this is for me i asked myself for it #fanfic is so fucking fun you guys wow #1d fic #h fic #5sos fic #nh fic #sm fic

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watchmegetobsessed · 3 years

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Serendipity - Part I. (Harry Styles)

a/n: i am BEYOND excited to share this story with you guys! i’ve been working on it for over a month now if not more and what started as just a oneshot, slowly grew into this massive fic. i really hope you’ll love the story of Harry and Lis bc im obsessed with them haha. please feel free to share your thoughts and reactions about the chapter and the fic itself!

pairing: Harry x OC (Annalise Lloyd)

word count: 8k

SERIES MASTERPOST ⚫️ my masterlist ⚫️ come and talk to me about Serendipity! ⚫️ consider buying me a coffee!

Serendipity (n.) Finding something good without looking for it.

There are people who plot out their New Year’s Eve plan even months before the last day of the year, making sure they will be celebrating the upcoming year at the best party possible. And then there are the folks who just ignore it until the very last moment and end up spending at a random place with even more random people.

Harry Styles desperately wanted to be the first kind, but unfortunately often found himself falling into the second case scenario. With his busy schedule and endless ocean of his upcoming projects, he never really had time to think about the last party of the day and usually ended up just tagging along some of his friends wherever they headed to. This year was no different, having to work up until even the last few days of the year, Harry had little to no thought about where he would be when the clock strikes midnight.

Just about a day before it, one of his old high school friends, Griff hits him up with a text if he would want to join them for the celebration at the pub he opened not that long ago. Harry didn’t think twice to accept the invitation, finally checking one more thing off his list, so he won’t just stay at home, and pathetically fall asleep at ten.

It’s nothing big or fancy, Griff assures him in the morning when he rings his friend up to ask when he should arrive and what he should bring.

“Nothing, ey? Just come and ‘ave a good time with us,” Griff tells him, though he already knows Harry won’t show up empty handed.

December 31st

A little before seven Harry opts for a quick shower before he dives deep in his wardrobe to find something to wear. He is torn between wearing a fancy outfit or something cozier, but eventually stands up for the latter, putting on a pair of light washed jeans, a simple white button up and a seaweed green knitted jumper under his coat. He doesn’t pay much attention to his hair, his curls falling around his head in a messy, warm brown halo. It’s been raining all day, it wouldn’t have had any use to try to tame them.

Slowly but surely, Harry feels the buzz in himself, excited to see his old friends and maybe meet some new people while having drinks and just relaxing. He grabs a bottle of fancy whiskey from his bar and heads out around eight.

Griff is one of the few people Harry stayed in touch with after his career launched so abruptly, the two of them often met up whenever Harry was around, having a pint together, just chatting up. Griff bought an old pub a few years prior and completely renewed it, opened at the beginning of the year, Harry was there at the opening party, he had way too much to drink, but he surely had a great time.

“There he is! My favorite arrogant son of a bitch!” Harry immediately hears as soon as he steps into the pub that’s already quite filled.

The tall lad makes his way through the groups of guests until he can envelop his old friend in a warm, brotherly hug as Harry chuckles at the name he just called him. Griff always loved that line from Harry’s song and never missed a chance to call him that. He doesn’t mind though, keeps that playful side of their friendship he always adored so much.

“Good to see you, mate,” Harry smirks at him. “Here, this is for yeh.” He holds out the pricey drink and Griff shakes his head at him.

“Told ya not to bring anything!” he sighs but accepts the gift anyway, knowing well Harry would just sneak into the back anyway and leave the liquor on his desk. “We ‘ave a nice evening ahead of us. Got food, drinks, everything’s on me, take what yeh want,” Griff assures him as the two of them walk further inside.

Harry sees a few familiar faces, high school friends, kids from around the neighborhood that are now grown adults, just like him, but there are quite a lot of guests he doesn’t know.

“C’mon, yeh need t’ ‘ave a welcome drink with me,” Griff grins as he pulls Harry to the bar and fills up two shot glasses generously. Harry doesn’t even bother to ask him what it is, he just takes the glass willingly and after they clink in the middle they both send it down.

Harry grimaces as the hard liquor burns down his throat, Griff never played around with the soft drinks, he knows what hits the best and fastest and Harry figures it’s one of those drinks that would have him crawling on the floor after two more shots.

It doesn’t take Harry long to mix and mingle, get into conversations and meet new people, just enjoying the welcoming and warm atmosphere of the party. He is pleased to see that people treat him just like any other guest, rather than a famous person and he is beyond thankful for that.

Near the bar, Griff has set up a quite rich buffet table filled with all kinds of snacks and food. It’s way past ten when Harry shuffles over there feeling his stomach growling. He grabs a paper plate and his eyes roam everything that’s set on the table. Humming to himself he decides to opt for the delicious looking fries, his mouth drools just at the sight of them, so he puts a generous amount to his plate before his eyes spot the bowl of peas. That’s exactly what he needs to go with the fries.

He goes a little overboard, but he couldn’t care less. Once he is satisfied with his meal he puts back the spoon that was sat in the bowl of peas, right when someone reaches for it. Glancing up his gaze meets a pair of warm brown eyes and a shy, but playful smile. Harry can’t stop himself from smiling instantly as the woman takes the spoon and fills her plate with peas. He looks down and sees that her plate is filled with the exact same things: fries and peas.

“Excellent choice,” he smirks teasingly and her eyes snap down to her plate before she sees the similarity on Harry’s plate. She lets out an airy chuckle before she tugs her chestnut colored, wavy locks behind her ears with her now free hand.

“Mother always told me to balance the junk out with something healthy,” she admits, the corners of her mouth curling up as she blinks a little shy under Harry’s burning gaze.

He always knew he had an eye for pretty things and he never dared to deny himself from admiring them once he laid his eyes on something he found breathtaking. She was by far the prettiest thing he has seen in quite some time, so he doesn’t shy away from taking in her figure in front of him. Delicious looking curves dressed in a pair of tight jeans and a sheer shirt with a top underneath it, the front tugged into the waist of the jeans. Her hair looks effortless, but he can tell she probably spent some time forming the natural looking waves before coming here. The thin eyeliner makes her eyes appear more cat-like and her long lashes dance around with each look she pays him.

“You want to—um, sit?” she stammers nodding towards an empty table near the buffet, a soft blush tainting her soft skin. Harry absolutely adores the hint of innocence in her features.

“’fcourse,” he nods and follows her.

The two of them move over to the table and sit down with their meal, Harry sneaking a fry into his mouth right away.

“’M Harry, by the way,” he says, realizing he hasn’t even introduced himself just yet. Some people tend to look at him weird whenever he does it, as if it should be common knowledge to know who he is, but he never takes it for granted. Luckily, she doesn’t find it funny or weird that he introduced himself.

“Annalise. But everyone just calls me Lis,” she explains and holds out a hand for him, which at first looks a little odd and he can tell she regrets the motion, but he appreciates it, even finds it cute. So before she can pull her hand back he takes it and gives it a soft shake. “So what brings you here tonight?” she asks as both of them digs into their food.

“Griff invited me, saved me last minute, didn’t have any plans.”

“How do you know him?”

Harry finds it amusing that she didn’t bring up that a famous person like him would probably have tons of invitations to fancy parties. He hates when people assume that his social life is blossoming at all times, packed with parties and events to attend every day.

“We went to high school together. Stayed in touch through the years.”

Lis nods with a small smile before her eyes return to the plate in front of her.

“How ‘bout you?”

“Oh, um… Well, Griff and I had a blind date like ages ago, but we both figured out pretty quickly we are never gonna be more than just friends. But that we are perfect for. Have been meeting up every once in a while. I was kind of in the same shoe like you, wasn’t planning on coming out tonight, but… I was forced to,” she admits with a nervous chuckle.

“Y’ don’t like to go out?”

“I—uh, don’t really have the time,” she answers, clearly a bit nervous at the topic so Harry decides to just drop it.

The two of them sit there, just talking and eating and with each passing moment Harry finds himself more and more enchanted by the woman sitting on his right. The way she rambles sometimes, how her nose scrunches whenever she is laughing hard, how she likes to keep tugging her hair behind her ears all the time, are the smallest things but they easily catch Harry’s attention.

Besides, she is not just the looks, also an amazing company. Easy to talk about anything, even the riskier things too. She doesn’t shy away from giving her honest and raw opinion, but also doesn’t attack if someone thinks differently. Instead, she is open to other point of views, seeking opportunities to learn and grow. It’s a mindset Harry values highly and feels like it’s hard to find it. But on this evening in his mate’s pub, he found a gem, it feels like.

The plates soon get swapped to beers and Lis is getting giddier with each gulp, which he finds amusing, especially because she lets her thoughts slip without thinking about them and it allows Harry to look into that pretty head of hers easier.

He doesn’t fail to notice how his heart flutters every time she touches his arm or hand whenever she is deep in a story. The warm touch of her soft hand is sending him into trembling and he is glad they are sitting because he surely would be having a hard time keeping himself up on his feet. She is just the kind of person that wraps others around her fingers without even trying or noticing.

Though it’s only been over an hour since he first laid his eyes on her, he feels like he has known her for ages. The connection built up fast and smoothly, sweeping Harry right off his feet. He’s got it bad for her and he already knows he wants to see her again once this night ends.

“Oh, it’s almost midnight!” Annalise gasps snapping out of her thoughts, a hand snapping to Harry’s upper arm. The crowd is starting to buzz, getting ready for the count down.

“C’mon, let’s get some champagne,” Harry tells her and helps her up from her seat.

They head to the bar and each of them grabs a flute filled with the sparkly alcohol. They stand a little to the side, but still mingled in the crowd of guests. Harry can feel his hands getting sweaty as he thinks about the countdown. Every fiber in his body is aching to kiss her, even though he knows it’s quite crazy knowing the fact they have known each other for only two hours. But he just can’t help it, she has a spell on him with just one look, making him act like a teenager in love.

Annalise peeks up at Harry with a lazy smile, the drinks have made her a little lightheaded, but she is nowhere near being drunk. Her thoughts are absolutely clear and they all focus on the man standing close to her.

Harry watches her bite into her bottom lip and he wonders if she is thinking about the same thing. If she’d be mad if he kissed her when the clock strikes midnight or slap him right across his face. He notices as she draws a deep breath, eyes looking around before they return to him.

“Get yo’ drinks, lads!” Griff shouts from somewhere behind the bar and those who haven’t picked up a glass quickly work on the problem.

Then the countdown begins.

“Ten!... Nine!... Eight!...”

Annalise glances up at Harry and her cheeks blush when she catches him already looking at her. She wishes she had her beer so she could hide in her glass from his burning eyes.

“Seven!... Six!...”

Harry turns so his whole body is facing her and takes just one tiny step towards her. When she doesn’t back away from him, he takes it as a sign that she might want the same thing as him.

“Five!... Four!...”

She looks straight up at him with a sheepish smile and pushes herself against him right when his free hand finds its way to her waist. She sucks in a sharp breath, but doesn’t move while Harry is aching to taste her plump, soft lips.

“Three!... Two!... One!... Happy New Year!”

The crowd cheers as one, guests are clapping and screaming, welcoming the new year with high hopes and full of planes for the new chapter that just started.

Harry and Annalise lock eyes and while everything around them is a full chaos, he feels like a bubble of silence and tranquility is surrounding them. Harry sucks in his breath, lips parted as he doesn’t break his gaze with hers. There’s a moment of hesitation, but the voice in the back of his mind tells him that he can’t let this moment go to waste.

Fuck it! He tells himself before he leans down and his lips meet hers in a soft, warm and breathtaking kiss.

He is a man who believes in magic, in things he can’t explain rationally, he is a man who doesn’t try to pull reality into everything when something odd happens. When his lips meet hers, he is swept right off his feet with just that tiny touch. It’s not a demanding kiss, very restricted and shy, but it still makes his insides tremble for her, almost falling to his knees right in front of her.

There’s a moment of hesitation from her side, when their lips are just touching in a little awkward way, but it fades into nothing before Harry could wrap his head around it, her lips parting as she lets him deepen the kiss, a soft moan slipping out of her throat that brings a knot to his stomach.

The moment is so vivid, raw and intoxicating, he wishes he could bottle it up and open it to have a taste of her anytime later, keep her in his pocket just to have her lips glued to his like this whenever he needs to be grounded or taken away from the world. His fingers dig into her waist, pulling her close to his body, hoping to just merge into her, become one with the woman in his arms.

She softly glides her hands up his arms, through his shoulders before they stop at the back of his neck, digging into his soft curls, while never breaking the kiss. Their lips stay melted together, tongues and teeth clashing, they are a hot mess in the first minutes of the new year.

The cheering slowly dies down and the usual buzzing of conversations and laughter replaces it, but the two of them are still busy with each other and it takes quite some time to pull themselves out of the bubble they created.

“Happy New Year, Lis,” Harry smiles down, lips swollen, eyes glistening from the joy that’s filling up his veins. She glances up at him shyly from under her lashes.

“Happy New Year, Harry,” she whispers, biting into her bottom lip, coming off the high this little make out session gave her.

One hour passes by, then another and the party is starting to slowly die down. People are flaking out the door, the crowd is getting smaller with each door opening.

Harry and Annalise remain in the corner of the place after their kiss, a barrier that’s been noticeably present before has come down as Harry has his arm swung over the back of her chair and she lets herself lean against his side. There’s something so calming and tranquil in just being so close to each other, sharing thoughts and stories while his fingers graze on her shoulder gently and her head always falls to his shoulder when she laughs on something. He loves her laugh, it could easily light up any place and Harry can’t help but feel sorry for the people who don’t see her shine. So many guests didn’t get the chance to get to know her, but on the other hand, he is a bit selfish, he wants her all to himself. No one else should have the honor of making her laugh or bringing a smile to her perfect lips. He wants her all to himself, even if it makes him sound like a mad man.

After she leaves to the restroom, she comes back with her phone in her hands and a tired smile playing on her lips.

“I, uhh—called an Uber. I really should get going,” she tells him and he wants to make her stay. He wants this evening to last forever, but he can’t ask her to stay longer than she wants, so he just slowly nods.

“I’ll walk you out,” he offers, but it’s more like a fact.

The two of them find their coats on the packed rack, Annalise says goodbye to the handful of people she knows, hugging Griff before they head outside to wait for her car to arrive.

“I really enjoyed tonight,” Harry mumbles, shoving his hands into his coat’s pockets, feeling like a nervous teenage boy talking to his crush. She glances up at him with a smile, but there’s something clouding her eyes he can’t really put his finger on.

“Me too,” she assures him, a pair of headlights turning the corner and they both look in the approaching car’s direction before facing each other. “It was really great meeting you, Harry. Take care of yourself in the new year,” she tells her, but he doesn’t like the weight of her words. It sounds like a proper goodbye, like she is bracing herself to never meet him again, but he can’t let that happen.

“Can I—Uh, can I have your number? I would love to take you out sometime.”

The car stops next to them and she nods in the driver’s way to let him know she’s the one he is supposed to pick up. Taking a step to the backseat, she looks back at Harry.

“I’m really sorry, Harry, but we can’t.”

Devastation washes over him, her words are like a punch into his stomach each. Why is she rejecting him? Did she not enjoy the evening? Did he say something stupid? She seemed to be having a great time, so why can’t he see her again?

“What? Are you sure? Because I really loved tonight and would love to see you again.”

Annalise opens the car door and shoots him an apologetic look. He has never felt this helpless in his life, than at that moment, looking at the woman of his dreams escape from his reach.

“I’m sorry, but I can’t get into… whatever it is you want from me. I really am sorry, I wish it was different.”

“But I just want to see you again. I thought… You didn’t feel like it was something special?” he breathes out, feeling the world crashing down on him with each passing moment.

“I did, but I can’t do this. I’m sorry. Take care, Harry,” she sighs, clearly not happy about her own actions and he doesn’t understand why she is fleeing away like this.

He stands there, completely frozen as she gets into the car and shuts the door open. Their eyes meet through the window one last time before the car starts moving and she falls out of his view. He stares after her until the very last moment, when the car disappears at the end of the street, leaving him in pieces from the major rejection he just suffered.

He stays out there until his nose and cheeks turn red and his ears are freezing off, part of him wishing that if he just waits she’s gonna magically reappear and tell him it was just a joke. He can’t believe he met such a wonderful creature and had to let her go like she didn’t flip his whole world upside down under just a couple of hours. Does she know how much of an effect she had on him?

She probably doesn’t, he thinks to herself, because then she wouldn’t have left so abruptly and without a trace for him to find her again.

When Harry returns to the pub, he is met with a tipsy Griff, shoving a pint into his hand immediately.

“Ay, saw you hanging with Lis all night!” he teases Harry, but the mentioning of her name just makes his heart ache. However, knowing that Griff is friends with her, he is ready to use him as a way to get to her.

“Yeah, hey, you have her number?” he asks, trying his best to look as innocent as possible, but Griff sees right through him, even with all the alcohol in his body.

“Sorry, mate. F’she didn’t give it to ya, I won’t go against her.”

“I’m begging you, Griff. I need to see her again!” he sighs in despair, ready to do anything he can to get to her.

“Y’not the first bloke to fall for her magic. I know what it feels like, but I can’t do anything, sorry.” He shrugs his shoulders, giving an apologetic look to his friend before he joins another conversation.

Harry could scream from the frustration, the urge to punch something or someone is growing with each passing moment, but he has to realize there’s nothing he can do at this point other than accept the fact that he met this wonderful woman, had the best night with her and then was forced to watch her walk out of his life before she could even become part of it properly.

Harry starts to realize that what he thought about heartbreaks is nothing compared to the feeling Annalise left in his heavy heart.

There has to be a solid reason for what she did. Or did not do.

Endless theories about Annalise flood his mind through the days following that night when he was forced to watch her leave on such a bitter and painful note. Harry couldn’t stop himself from making up the most ridiculous cases just to give himself a possible peace of mind, but neither of them brought him enough comfort to forget about her.

His best shot was that she had a boyfriend, or even worse, a husband. This was the only version that sounded somewhat real and believable, though he just knew she is not the type of woman to cheat on a significant other.

How would you know? You spent just one evening with her, she could be a serial killer for all you know! Harry’s rational side was always quick to shut him down when his thought swirled around the idea of knowing her well enough to assume anything about her.

As the days dragged by him in a painful pace, he slowly had to realize it’s going to be a question in his life he’ll never get an answer to, so he just has to learn to live with the thought of the woman that got away.

The end of January rolls around faster than he could comprehend, February comes and he finds himself spending his days mostly in the studio, cooking up new music. Studio sessions are his favorite. That’s his element, he feels safe and comfortable, surrounded by people he trusts and enjoys creating his art fully. In the new year, he has also been eager to pick up a new hobby so he has been trying himself out in knitting and painting recently, finding both of them just a tad bit too hard for him just yet, but they were enough to get his mind off of the one woman who was constantly occupying his thoughts following New Year’s Eve.

Sitting in an armchair in the studio, he and his bandmates are listening back to some recordings they did today and he is trying to find that one thing that keeps throwing him off whenever he hears the song.

“I think it’s great,” Mitch states once the recording ends, and Harry agrees, it is great, but not the best.

“Maybe we could tone down the keyboard a little through the bridge, give more space for the guitar,” he contemplates, but really, he is just shooting in the dark, not sure what it is that keeps him on edge about the song.

“Why don’t we have a break?” Sarah suggests with a warm smile, seeing how everyone is keen on leaving for a little, except Harry, who is still fixated on mastering the song. But he agrees to have the break, however while everyone gets ready to leave and grab something to eat from the diner that’s around the corner, Harry stays where he is, eyes glued to his notebook.

“You’re not coming?” Charlotte asks him and he just shakes his head.

“No, not that hungry.” He looks up and shoots them a short smile and though they all can tell he could use the time out, they know him enough already that he won’t leave before he finds what’s not right.

“Alright. We’ll be back in an hour,” Mitch informs him and he dismisses them all with a nod.

He stays right there, going through the lyrics a few more times, making tiny changes in hopes that it’ll fix it all, but he can feel himself growing frustrated. Doesn’t matter how hard he is trying, he realizes his brain needs a break. Letting out a defeated huff he leans back, looking around in the empty studio. He doesn’t feel particularly hungry, but he could use something to snack on. So grabbing his coat he locks up the studio and heads out to the nearby Tesco they usually run out during sessions.

He is still humming the melody to himself when he walks in, a pair of sunglasses sitting on the bridge of his nose, his famous curls hidden under a green beanie. He doesn’t bother to get a cart or basket, just strolls inside and roams down the aisles, trying to decide what he desires.

He settles on some kind of canned tea and a protein bar, but before he heads towards the cash registers, he wanders down the aisle where they keep cereals, looking around aimlessly. It’s the middle of the day on a weekday, most people are at work at this hour, so just a few other customers are lingering around, filling their carts. At first, he doesn’t pay any attention to the figure a little further down the aisle, his eyes are glued to the shelves, but then he just mindlessly glances to his left, his brain not even processing what, or who he is seeing at first. Then he takes a double take and his stomach drops to the tiled floor when he recognizes the woman, deep in her thoughts to decide which cereal to buy.

Annalise is standing just a few meters away from him, looking just as beautiful as he remembered, wearing a pair of simple jeans, light blue sneakers and a white jacket, her hair is in a loose ponytail on the top of her head.

“Lis?” he calls out, as if he thinks she is just a ghost. Taking a few steps closer he watches as her eyes fall from the products on the shelves to him, then they widen and her lips part in shock.

“Harry? Wha-what are you doing here?” she asks and Harry is quick to read the panic out of her tone as she looks around cautiously.

“I’m… shopping?” he answers with a soft chuckle, holding up the items in his hands.

“Haven’t seen you around here.”

“The studio we use is nearby, I drop by sometimes. But today is clearly my lucky day.” Even though her reaction is giving him doubts, he can’t hide his joy upon seeing her again, fate clearly playing on his side this time.

“Uh, yeah?” she lets out an anxious chuckle, her eyes often wandering off him, as if she is waiting for someone to show up and it just fuels Harry’s rich theories about her.

“So, are you here with your boyfriend?” he boldly asks, deciding to just go for it. Annalise’s eyes widen once again, but not in a way that makes him think he just busted her, it’s more of a confused one.

“Boyfriend? What are you talking about?”

“Well, you basically ran away from me that night, I figured you had someone and that’s why you didn’t want to give me your number.” He tries his best not to sound petty or bitter, though that’s exactly what he’s been feeling ever since she left that night.

“Harry, that’s… not the case.”

“Okay, so does this mean you’ll give me your number this time?” he tries and he is so busy with her presence, he doesn’t even notice when a smaller frame runs past him down the aisle.

“Mommy! I want this!”

At first, he doesn’t even register that the little boy is talking to Annalise, he dismisses his presence, eyes still fixated on her, but then her gaze leaves him and turns down to the boy, holding up a bar of chocolate.

“Honey, that’s too big. Choose something smaller, alright?”

It takes Harry a few moments to put one and one together. This kid just ran up to her, called her mommy and most likely not on accident since she answered him, very much talking to him like his mother. Though Harry can’t see his own face, he knows it fell, shock completely taking over him as his thoughts finally add up. Annalise looks back at him in panic, completely puzzled about what to do or say.

“Benji, go get another one, a smaller one while I talk to my friend here,” Annalise softly tells the boy.

He turns to Harry, eyes meeting his as he cocks his head to the side, examining the shocked adult standing in front of him.

“Who’s this?” he blurts out.

“Just a friend, alright? Go get your chocolate,” she urges. Benji gives Harry another look before nodding and running off, leaving them alone once again in the cereal aisle. “Harry, I-I’m sorry, you weren’t supposed to know.”

“Are you married?” is his first question, taking her by surprise.

“What?”

“The father. Is he your husband?” he urges, eager to clear the picture. Annalise shakes her head.

“No, we were never even married.”

He feels relief washing over him. At least at this point he doesn’t feel like a homewrecker. If he found out she wasn’t only a mother but also married, and that she cheated on the dude with him, that would have crushed him. But it’s one less thing to worry about on a long list.

“Okay, it’s fine. You are not married, it’s all good,” he breathes out and it brings her a smile through this absurd situation.

“You thought I was married?”

“Or at least had a boyfriend, yeah,” he nods, hands on his hips as he licks his lips. He surely had a mini panic attack, but he can feel the life coming back into his body.

“Do I come off like the kind to cheat that easily?” she asks with raised eyebrows, but she didn’t take it as an offense, she more like finds it funny rather than hurtful.

“No, not at all! I was just trying to figure out why you rejected me and this was my best shot!”

“I’m sorry, Harry. I just… I didn’t know how to tell and I didn’t really think you would want to see me again after that night.”

“I think I made it clear that I wanted to when I asked for your number.”

“Well, yes, but I thought you just wanted a hookup and that’s just not what I can do.”

“Because of…” he gestures towards the boy that jolted down the aisle just a few minutes ago.

“Because of Benji, yeah.”

“Alright, it’s understandable, but I did not just want a hookup, and that’s still not what I want,” he clears, his words certainly surprising her. This is definitely not what she was expecting when she came down to get groceries today.

“Harry…” she breathes out, already feeling guilty that she is about to turn him down once again. “You can’t be serious.”

“Why not?”

“Because I’m a single mother with a six year-old and you are… you.”

“I don’t see your point,” he truthfully answers.

“I’m not some model you chatted up at some award show, who is living her best life, traveling the world just like you. My days consist of work, doing laundry, cleaning the house, cooking, doing first grade homework, going to football practice and watching cartoons. We are polar opposites.”

“No, just our lifestyles, but that doesn’t mean we can’t get closer.”

“Is that really what you want?”

Harry is about to answer right when Benji emerges again, proudly holding up a bar of KitKat in his hand this time.

“This one! This one!” he declares, stopping next to Annalise.

“Okay, put it in,” she nods and the little boy throws the chocolate into the cart with a beaming smile. Her eyes flicker back to Harry, who is now staring down at Benji, who is seemingly not that interested in him at the moment, his attention is more focused on the cereals on the shelves.

She is aware she can’t really push this conversation, but she also doesn’t want Benji to hear it.

“Benji, can you get me three apples? I’ll go get paper towels in the next aisle, alright?”

“Three?” he asks holding up three fingers to make sure he heard her right.

“Yes.”

Benji nods and runs off once again, while Annalise grabs a random box of cereal off the shelf and starts pushing her cart, Harry walking along with him.

“It’s nice that you want to prove that you are fine with whatever baggage I come with, but I’m not stupid, Harry. I know I’m not the jackpot and I’m not naïve, I’m not trying to make myself believe that I’m easy to date when I’m clearly not.”

“You act like you are the only single parent out in the dating field. I genuinely don’t think that it’s that big of a deal.”

“Yeah, that’s what you are saying now. But then we would get more involved, you’d grow frustrated that I can’t just go after you whenever you feel like it, or that I would have to cancel on plans because Benji is sick or has homework to do that he needs help with. Or that my Friday night consists of playing board games, then watching whatever cartoon Benji is keen on seeing and I’m in bed by ten while you probably spend these nights out with your friends, hopping from one bar to the other. And I’m not saying that you shouldn’t, that’s exactly what you should be doing at your age… at our age. But for me, it’s just different.”

She is not talking just out of theories. She has tried to date, several times, but it was always kind of doomed from the beginning. Men in their mid-twenties don’t want to be a stand-in dad, though it’s completely not what she expects. But as time went by, they all grew tired of having to deal with a kid in the relationship and they all ended up leaving and she can’t even blame them. It’s not what they want in life at this point, but she can’t be what they wanted her to be so slowly but surely she gave up on finding a man before she turns thirty and her peers start to get into the whole idea of having a family that’s already been her reality since she was eighteen.

And the situation is even more complicated with Harry. An international rockstar is definitely not the right person for her and vice versa. She can only imagine what some lowlifes would think when they found out he is dating a single mother. People can be cruel for no damn reason and she is definitely not in the right mindset to be humiliated just because she is a mother.

The two of them move down to the next aisle so she can grab the paper towels along with some dish soap. Harry is keen on making her understand that he is still very much interested and he has nothing against her being a mother. It was just a little shocking to find out this way, instead of hearing about it from her.

“I think you have an unreasonable picture in your head of what my life is like,” he explains. “Yes, I do travel a lot and I go to parties, but it’s not what I do most in life. And I’m not expecting you to turn your whole life around for me.”

“Yeah, but dating me is kind of me asking you to turn your whole life around for us,” she simply says and he is stunned at her words, having nothing to bring up against them. “Look,” she sighs. “I appreciate the effort and everything, but I want to save you the time, just like I originally wanted to. I know that it seems reasonable now, but once you get involved, it’s a whole different world, I’m telling you. And while I would love to give you the chance to prove me wrong, I still have to think about Benji. I can’t just drag someone into his life and then have them leave when they figure out it’s not what they want after all. He needs stability around him and it’s enough that he can’t get that from his father.”

Harry has a million questions roaming in his head that he is dying to ask. Mostly about the father, because if he is not in the picture, he can’t imagine what kind of scumbag he is for leaving someone like her. But he keeps them all to himself, especially when Benji appears again with the three apples, putting them into the cart with a proud smile. The boy turns to Harry this time, finally acknowledging his presence.

“Who are you?” he asks. Harry looks down at him and pushes everything else into the back of his mind as he hunches down a bit, holding out his hand for the boy, a friendly smile playing on his lips.

“I’m Harry, your mum’s friend. Nice to meet you.”

The boy doesn’t hesitate to take his right held out, his small hand almost getting lost in Harry’s big palm as they shake hands like two adults. Harry is stunned by how confident he is, unlike most kids his age.

“I’m Benjamin Lloyd,” the boy introduces himself smiling and Harry can see the resemblance now clearer than anything. His smile is certainly his mother’s and the shape of his eyes along with his chin are the exact same as Annalise’s, leaving only a few traits that must have been inherited from his father.

Benjamin lets go of Harry’s hand and turns back to his mother completely unbothered by the man he just met.

“Mum, are we staying on the playground a little?” he asks as they all move down the aisle, heading to the cash register.

“Uh, yeah, we can stay for a little, but you need to do homework when we get home. Mrs. Conrad sent me all the work you missed today so we have to catch up on everything. You got away with faking sickness this morning, but you are doing the work you missed.”

Benji doesn’t fuss about having to do work, he knew this would happen when he faked to have a tummy ache, he nods understanding the importance of doing his homework and Harry is amazed by how great his behavior is. Most kids his age would have thrown a tantrum over what Annalise just said, but not Benji. He is like a small adult, Harry thinks.

“I honestly don’t see why you still have to push me away completely. Did you not enjoy talking with me?” Harry continues as they stand in line, Annalise putting everything to the belt from the cart while Benji is busy playing around the poles that separate the lines.

“Of course I did!” she sighs.

“So then why can’t we just continue? See where it goes?”

“Because that’s just not how things work for me,” she says with a soft, sad chuckle.

“What, you can’t have friends?” Harry asks innocently as Annalise finishes packing, puts a divider on the belt so Harry can put his items behind hers.

“Oh, so you just want to be friends?” she asks raising her eyebrows, seeing through him easily. Harry opens his mouth, but then closes, a cheeky smile stretching across her face that makes her chuckle.

“For now, yeah?” he tries to sound convincing, but it’s more of a joke.

The cashier starts to scan her items so she pushes the cart over to the end and starts packing everything back, Benji still climbing on the poles, completely oblivious to the conversation happening around him, or he just chooses not to listen.

“You are unbelievable,” she shakes her head at the man in the line. The cashier finishes up with her items and she taps her card on the terminal, pushing the cart away a little.

Harry is scared that she’ll flee the moment she gets the receipt and leaves before she could go after her, but for his biggest surprise, she just pushes the cart a little away from the cash register and starts packing her items into totebags. Benji runs up to her and she gives him his KitKat without a word, the boy happily tearing the packaging open, snacking on the chocolate.

Harry is quick to finish with his items, catching up with Annalise as the three of them head out of the supermarket.

“Look, I’m gonna be honest with you, I haven’t felt like this with anyone in a long time, Lis. I loved talking to you, I feel like we had a connection, and I think you felt it too. I would hate to waste whatever we had so I’m offering you my friendship. I want to hang out, spend time with you, just as two adults enjoying each other’s company. Nothing more, if that’s what you really want for now. And we can see where it heads later. How does that sound?”

They reach her car and Benji runs to the backseat, tearing the door open while Annalise opens the trunk and she is surprised to see Harry help her pack her bags into the car, but she doesn’t protest.

“I really don’t know…” she sighs.

“Come on! Just friends. Give it a try! I have a great feeling about it and I promise to be very careful. I understand that you need boundaries because of Benji and I’m not trying to make you uncomfortable in any way. But you do have to realize that you need to open up at one point. You can’t use him as an excuse forever.”

“I’m not using him as an excuse!” she points out, but she can feel how that’s not the whole truth.

“Whatever helps you sleep at night, Lis,” Harry smirks, pulling his phone out of his coat’s pocket and unlocking it he holds it out for her once she has closed the trunk. “I’m just asking for your phone number, not to travel the world with me. You can decide to block me later if you change your mind, it’s nothing serious, alright?”

Annalise’s hesitation is clearer than the light and in any other case, he would take offence at it, but not with her. Harry is keen on proving to her that he meant everything he said and that he is willing to take a chance with her.

Chewing on the inside of her cheeks, she glances back at Benji, who has climbed into his seat in the back of the car. She is fighting with herself, bringing up all pros and contras until she finally caves in. Grabbing the phone from Harry’s hand she types her number in and gives herself a ring so she can save his number as well. She hands the device back and Harry’s smile is so wide, she almost wants to punch him in the face, but she can also feel the excitement running through her veins.

“Great. You won’t regret it, Lis,” Harry beams shoving his phone back into his pocket. His hand reaches for her arm and gives it a gentle squeeze as he doesn’t want to try anything further with her at the moment.

“I better not,” she mumbles shaking her head before turning around to buckle Benji in. When that’s done she pays one last glance at Harry who stands at the car next to hers, watching her get behind the wheel and back out from her spot. He waves at her happily and she just nods in his way before turning around the car and driving away.

“Why the fuck didn’t you tell me?!” Harry rages through the phone, his anger only met with a soft chuckle from Griff on the other end of the call.

“Mate, I told ya, s’not my place! She didn’t tell ya, so I didn’t either.”

“You saw how hooked I was on her! You could have, no, no… you should have told me!”

Harry was quick to run back to the studio and called Griff right away to load everything out on him. He felt betrayed that his friend didn’t let him know this small little detail even after seeing him all crushed after she left without a trace to find her. He gets his reasoning, he does, but it still doesn’t stop him from being so bloody mad at his mate.

“Sorry! I really am sorry! But I know how protective she is over Benji. I was not gonna betray her like tha’.”

Harry takes a deep breath, paying up and down the hallway in the studio, trying his best to calm his nerves. It’s an unfortunate situation as a whole, he sees that clearly, but the frustration how it had to go down at the end is getting the best out of him for sure. He is not mad at one specific person, because everyone was doing what they thought to be the best, but everything added up to be such a shitty outcome, or at least on Harry’s side.

Pinching the bridge of his nose he huffs again, putting aside his burning emotions.

“Okay, okay. Sorry to snap at you like that, it was just… a lot.”

“I get it, don’ worry about it,” Griff assures him, glasses clinking behind him somewhere, he is probably working at the pub as they are speaking. “She gave ya her number now, right?”

“Yeah, she didn’t want to, but I talked her ears off,” Harry chuckles lowly. He could still feel the excitement that rushed through him when she finally gave in.

“M’happy for ya, mate. But please be bloody careful. She doesn’t need any shit right now, has enough on her plate.”

“I know. I’m just trying to be her friend first, that’s all.”

“Alright. Swing by the pub sometime soon, if ya want.”

“Sure thing. Bye Griff,” Harry smiles before ending the call.

Walking back into the recording room, all eyes snap up to him and he stops in his track.

“What?”

“The hell was that about?” Sarah questions, asking in the name of everyone in the room. They all just heard his rage outside and now are dying to know what it was about.

“I uhh—I found her,” he simply says and watches all his bandmates gawk back at him with wide eyes.

“What? Did you like, hire a private investigator or something?” Charlotte asks, making Harry chuckle as he shakes his head no.

“No, I ran into her at Tesco. Well, her and her… son.”

His last word washes out the whole room, everyone stops breathing for a moment as they stare back at Harry who has that ‘yeah, you heard me right’ look on his face.

“A son?” Mitch asks snapping out of his shock. “Like a proper kid?”

“How do you not have a proper kid?” Harry asks him with a look.

“I don’t know! I’m just… surprised. How old is the kid?”

“Like six or seven. She said something about being a first grader.”

“Didn’t you say she is a year younger than you?” Sarah asks, as everyone is doing the silent math in their head.

“She is, with one year. Or that’s what she told me.”

“That makes her, what, like eighteen when she had the kid? And what about the father?” Charlotte trails, still trying hard to put the picture together.

“She didn’t say much, but from what I understood, he is not really in the picture. So at least she is not married or something,” Harry adds, still open about the relief he is feeling about that information.

“This shit is twisted,” Sarah huffs. “So what’s gonna happen now? Did you ask for her number again?”

“Ask?” Harry chuckles bitterly. “I begged, Sarah. I was ready to be on my knees in the middle of a bloody Tesco.”

A round of laughter runs through the room and the mood finally eases a little after the shock that just set in. It wasn’t the fact that Annalise had a son that sent everyone over the edge, but rather that she didn’t say a single word about it and how it all surfaced.

“And did she give it to you?” Mitch prompts and Harry nods, a shy smile stretching on his lips as the two girls start clapping and cheering.

They all saw his long face after New Year’s Eve, it couldn’t be missed how he was moping around for weeks. He told them all about this girl he met, who completely blew his mind just before breaking his heart. Now that she was found and gave him just a small crumble of information about her to him that makes him able to contact her, the change is visible. That little sparkle in his eyes is back and that’s all his friends wanted to see.

“So what are you gonna do now?” Sarah asks as Harry walks over to one of the armchairs and makes himself comfortable.

“Now… I’ll try not to scare her off. Hopefully she won’t push me away and at least let me be her friend.”

“Friend? Is that what you want to be?”

“Of course not,” he sighs, his head dropping to the back of the armchair. “But this is all I can do for now.”

They all just nod, tasting his words and letting everything that just happened sink in. Harry is doing the same, he has a lot to think about and figure out, but there’s one thing he is one hundred percent sure about: he will not give up on Annalise.

NEXT PART

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brave-clarice · 3 years

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“Clarice” Liveblog: Episode 3

Maybe Wednesday is just destined to be my watch night? At any rate, here are some more comically late hot takes for you all.

I really do not like that Clarice’s Bureau-mandated therapist is recurring character, nor do I like the way these scenes are framed.

And the name of this episode is “Are You Alright?” which...oop.

“He was a marshal.” Good to know that the sheriff BS she gave Mr. Cult Leader was made up after all.

This is a little thing, but enough with the boring monochromatic button-ups on Clarice! Where’s my girl who hides copies of Vogue under her mattress??

I don’t love this constant-flashback thing one bit.

To be 100% clear, if I haven’t been already, it’s not that I want Clarice’s mental health to be ignored. I just don’t think this is the best or most in-character way to address it.

Also: Clarice Starling is not defined by her trauma.

“Buffalo Bill...a wound I believe will never heal unless you open up about it.” Honestly?

Thanks, I hate it!

I hate to even bring up the NBC show.....but this scene is reminding me, intensely and unpleasantly, of that.

That show made Will Graham way too unstable and mentally ill as it is...and Clarice’s character is a hell of a lot stronger than book!Will, never mind NBC!Will. So having Clarice hallucinate and lash out in similar ways feels really OOC.

“Maybe your perceptions aren’t as solid as you think.” Yay, gaslighting. As if Clarice doesn’t face enough obstacles in the books.

I’ve always interpreted Ardelia as a bit of a neat freak, so that was a nice scene with the boxes!

Were most politicians wearing American flag pins in the early 90s? That feels way too modern. (iirc it became the “norm” only after 9/11.)

“Imagine someone field-dressing one of [your daughters] like a deer.” I’m getting strong and very unwelcome NBC vibes again. Stop it, show!

More gaslighting, but this time from the suspect.

“Well, I’m Army, so I’m actually a good shot.” For some reason this feels like shade at ex-Marine John Brigham even though he doesn’t exist in this show, and I’m offended on his behalf.

Speaking of, when is Clarice’s sharpshooting talent going to come up??

Krendler’s supporting Clarice? Saying she has a good idea???? WHO IS THIS GUY?!

The implication here is that...the president will fire AG Martin over bad press...? Or what?

What I’m getting from this: this Krendler is just some guy who hapens to have the same name, not the infamous King Scumbag we know and love to hate. (And those clothes...1993, where are you?!?)

Ardelia called her “Starling”! Though it was tongue-in-cheek.

“I’m aware I have the palate of an eight-year-old.” Somewhere, Hannibal is dying inside. (Hmm...wasn’t she about eight when her father was killed?)

This line/delivery was super cute!

But being unable to cook doesn’t necessarily mean you have unsophisticated tastes...

Is Catherine going to have any kind of personality? Beyond “is traumatized”?

And where is Catherine’s cat???

“It’s from the 50s.” “I’m from the 50s! ...I still work.” Cuuute.

Her sheepish little smile when the Baltimore cop tells her they’re “big fans” of hers...I would die for this girl, folks.

Hey, remember phone books?! And a nice nod to Ardelia being the bookish one of the pair.

Another homage to Silence’s cinematography (but this time she’s the reflection).

Krendler’s back in Asshole Boss mode again. Make up your minds.

Thanks, I still hate it!

Okay, yes Clarice has a temper! And she does act “impulsively” re: Krendler in Hannibal...at the END of her by-then failed career. But a fledgling female agent who’s already viewed as a kind of “loose cannon” could NOT afford to chuck a mug full of coffee at her boss (with whom she’s already butting heads/struggling to coexist) when she’s upset! Very unprofessional and unlike Clarice.

“You think I’m the one who wants to play politics?” In Hannibal, Krendler wants to run for Congress, so...yeah, I do.

Krendler wouldn’t be wrong to send Clarice home after that, tbh.

“He thinks I’m the weak link.” “You might be.” *angry noises*

Busting through doors while armed: Just Clarice Things

Krendler telling Clarice she was right...his characterization’s giving me whiplash.

Catherine’s not an actual character so far, and it’s sad.

Glad they’re acknowledging that AG Martin’s “field-dressing” comments were incredibly bad.

“I think I have some memories I need to look at...but not with you.” Oh! Oh! I know who she’s going to look at them with! ;)

“You’re trying to gaslight me, sir.” Not sure they would’ve used that term as commonly in the early 90s, though Clarice has a therapy license, so maybe?

But also: yes! CALL! HIM! OUT!

“I wish you luck finding someone who’s better at it than I am.” *shrieks* That is a Hannibal reference, and I’ll fight anyone who says it isn’t.

I’ve liked all these episodes more than my nit-picking might suggest, I swear. I enjoyed the middle half hour or so of this one a lot! It’s got a few charming little funny moments that I particularly appreciated.

That said... This was, as a whole, probably Rebecca Breeds’ weakest showing to date (through no fault of her own). And I’m getting a little antsy about (lack of) character development. I’m on board with exploring Ardelia and Catherine Martin in greater depth...but Ruth Martin, too--even Krendler? And seemingly at the expense of Clarice’s own character?

What do the non-book readers in the audience really know about Clarice so far beyond what’s shown in Silence? (Some early interviews emphasized that the film didn’t have time to delve into Clarice’s character intimately. What has the show done to remedy that so far...?) She likes junk food, she has a brother...I can’t think of much else off the top of my head. Not to be a broken record, but there’s more to Clarice than childhood trauma. More than her career. If this show is genuinely about her--well, by episode 3 and 4, it’s high time for them to start exploring who she is beyond those things.

Clarice is a sharpshooter who competes and wins. She’s a runner. She loves horses and muscle cars. She has a therapy license. She graduated at the top of her large undergraduate class. She’s interested in fashion (though she probably doesn’t let on about that to many people). I haven’t seen any of that so far, and it’s beginning to make me sad.

They also need to end the “Clarice is mentally/emotionally unstable and sometimes even hallucinates” subplot right now!

I’m dropping all my expectations for this Paul Krendler. They won’t commit to making him as intolerable and awful as he was in the books. Instead, we have an OC with a canonical name. Fine. But that choice is going to be awkward if the show goes forward and they, by some miracle, get rights to Hannibal’s character...

If Catherine Martin’s sticking around, I hope to God they give her a personality. Of course she’s suffering, and no, I don’t want them to belittle that--but right now, she’s coming across as a one-dimensional caricature of a victim rather than as a sympathetic real person.

And finally...where is my 90s aesthetic?! It’s one of the elements that I was most excited about, yet it’s barely present. Some of the tech and the cars look right. A lot of the clothes and hairstyles, though, leave much to be desired. (Clarice’s wardrobe is especially boring/disappointing so far. I was looking forward to an improvement on Jodie’s movie costumes! Clarice doesn’t have to dress just like Dana Scully--but at least Scully always looked straight out of 199x.) And there are little anachronistic things that take me right out of the early 90s.

I didn’t hate it. I didn’t love it. It wasn’t as exciting or as full of novel/film allusions as the first two (I guess they can’t all be). It also felt unfocused when it came to the characters, ultimately developing almost none of them, including the heroine. This is the episode I think I’m least likely to rewatch of the first three.

I’m hoping for better from #4!

#Clarice Starling #clarice #cbs clarice #rebecca breeds #media [cbs show]#actor [rebecca breeds]

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transformers-fan-continuities · 3 years

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Spotlight: Rise of the Radiotrons

Here it is folks, the first fan canon spotlight, showcasing Rise of the Radiotrons created by sleeveev! You can find this over at @riseoftheradiotrons and also on AO3! This is a long post, fair warning.

Q) Give us a run down of your cont! What's it about, what's it called, what's it like?

the cont, despite being called Rise of the Radiotrons, revolves around five main groups of characters, and the mystery that accidentally intertwines all of them. a lot of false identities, undiscovered pasts, mystery that you need to read all the way through to really uncover. it also takes place during the attrition phase of the Autobot-Decepticon war, and Megatron and Optimus are... dead. but... weren't they made immortal by the Eternal Surge? where are they?

Q) What characters take the lead here? Any personal favorites?

characters that take the lead? hoo, boy, there's a lot. and be warned, this is OC-heavy. Wavecrash, Blackarachnia, Sparkplug, Pascal, and Ness make up the Earth detective team, the first to investigate the Radiotrons: Nanotube, Quicksilver, Greenscreen, and [REDACTED] (that is not their name, you will learn it later!).

Starscream, Moonkiller, and Pharma investigate a series of rust-related murders, later with the help of Eclipse and Terraform. the two they investigate? two hulking beings that carry a rust of sheer destruction of anything metal, Turbulence and someone known only as The Crimson Doctor. the third part is mostly with just a few characters. Dial-Up and Absolute Zero are in a cat-and-mouse chase, Dial-Up attempting to capture Absolute Zero and return him to the prison he escaped from. other 'bots come into this story, including Pylon, Airachnid, Suture, and Cyclonus, but they are not the main focus.

Turbulence. this motherfucker. this moldy bitch.

my personal favorites? i love Sparkplug, i love my little gaming PC gal. The Crimson Doctor has also grown on me quite a bit. i'm gonna make fat robots and you can't stop me.

Sparkplug above, Crimson Doctor (Crim) below

Q) I love how he isn’t crimson at all.

oh you'll learn why he's crimson

Q) Ominous! Is there a bigger point to this, like a theme or some catharsis? Or is it just fluffy fun?

a bigger point to this? well, i have quite my fair share of trauma for being in a military family - being on the home front of a war i never even learned about until i was like 12. i wanted to show the horrors of attrition above all, because attrition is the part of war that everyone seems to forget, but is possibly the most dangerous part of it. everyone's killing each other over resources, dying of preventable diseases, resources are spread thin among soldiers and thinner among civilians. it also lets new, perhaps worse groups arise from the dust.

war was never about who was right. it was about who could live longer. and RotR, with its rampant killings that people can't even begin to investigate until their leaders are toppled from their thrones and complete anarchy reigns among military sites, is a testament to that.

war was the cause for part of the namesake of the Radiotrons themselves - the Great Radiation Crisis. war was where everything went wrong

Q) How long have you been working on it?

now, for the slightly less dark - it varies from character to character! while the official plot of RotR was established on August 25 this year, some 'bots go much further back - Pascal's earliest concepts were made on May 8, Nanotube's were made on April 25, and The Crimson Doctor's roots go as far back as a character called The Crimson-Eyed Doctor, a character created on Dec 11, 2019 (happy belated birthday, Crim!).

Q) You’re very meticulous with your dates!

i lose track of all time otherwise

Q) Give us a behind-the-scenes look! Show us a secret ;))

behind the scenes.

this is a mystery cont.

THERE'S A LOT BEHIND THE SCENES.

i will start with some no-context spoilers, here.

and, now for something a bit more genuinely secret.

whether this is a crimson doctor or a red herring, you decide.

Q) Where did you draw inspiration from? What canons, what other fiction, what parts of real life?

this varies from subtle to shameless.

my cont would fit best in an comic format, so it makes sense that i was inspired by IDW - and that it was my entry into the TF fandom! there is also some TFA bits in there, but the majority of it is personal robot worldbuilding, with a couple sprinkles of headcanons and OCs taken from Afterburn, a cont made by a longtime friend of mine.

other fiction i took inspiration from is mostly in the character designs. Blackarachnia was loosely inspired by Tawna from Crash Bandicoot 4: It's About Time (you went through such a good revamp sweetie. neon lesbian.). if you can't tell that Turbulence took inspiration from Cioccolata from JJBA: Golden Wind, i don't know what to tell you. Crim took less inspiration from a character and more from a trope - the "ever-obedient villain subordinate". i just sucked all of the homoeroticism out of it, and also decided to give him more of a self than just someone who serves the villain.

here's Tawna (specifically Crash Bandicoot 4), one of the big inspirations for Blackarachnia's design! we don't talk about your past sweetie.

and Blackarachnia headshot to compare, because her fullbody is still in progress.

i am sharing this specific image of cio, one of turb's inspos, because i BASED A TURB PIECE OFF OF IT.

real life? RADIATION, RADIATION. i have radiation and radioactive things and the PERIODIC TABLE as a special interest and it SHOWS. it's all radiation. even the names. Quicksilver comes from mercury, Starborn comes from all elements being created from stars in space, Nanotube comes from carbon nanotubes, and [REDACTED] comes from... well, you don't know yet. there's also the whole attrition war thing, for real life inspiration, too.

Q) Show off something you're really proud of, a particular favorite part of your cont.

this piece of Eclipse and Turbulence('s hand), for one

(the image is at the end of the post under a readmore, as it contains eye trauma, eye touching, and roboblood)

and another thing i am particularly proud of are all my worldbuilding posts! they look like textbook entries kinda but i really really love em. here's one of them, though there are many more on the blog!

lastly, my favorite character introduction post. if you know Afterburn, you may be pleasantly surprised seeing this.

Q) Ah, that guy.

fun fact about RotR Absolute Zero! his color palette is taken from a diagram of a human heart. here is the motherfucker in question,

Q) What other fan canons do you love and why? Would you like to see them interviewed?

Afterburn. my best friend made this i can't just NOT advertise it. go look at it there's murderers and there's an OC that's actually very inspired by not one but two of my creations (the original OC he was a fanformer of, and his altmode - I'd had thoughts of various greenhouse 'bots like that). @transformersafterburn. please don't simp for Abzero. or maybe do. he's a better option than Turbulence.

Mirror Mirror. found at @transformers-mirror-mirror, it's got so many epic character designs and realistically sized altmodes despite not having realistically sized altmodes this makes me go happy flappy and is also inspiring a future project of mine, also Shattered Glass!

NEW PRIMES OF CYBERTRON. RITO I LOVE YOUR CONT SO MUCH. i summed it up in "transformers ungunned" but THERE IS MUCH MORE GO CHECK IT OUT AFTER YOU FINISH READING THIS INTERVIEW @thenamesblurrito

Q) [insert flattered keysmashing from me, creator of New Primes of Cybertron, otherwise known as TF:SNAP]

Thank you very much veev! Everyone go check out Rise of the Radiotrons! Stay tuned for next week, when we’ll get to see some Shattered Glass...

(aforementioned image under the cut, warning for eye trauma, eye touching, and roboblood)

#tf:rotr #spotlight #long post #robogore #tfoc #YEEHAW SPOTLIGHTS STARTED

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ikenbar · 3 years

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Ikamara One Shot: Soccer Practice

Hey there! To the new folks here, I have a fanfiction called Mr. love: Ike’s Choice featuring my OC as the main character instead of Youran! I write these one shots in between chapters to give a background to Ike and create a sense of tension as you wait of the next chapter!! If you are interested, you can find the link to my masterlist of the fanfiction here! Thank you for those who have read this far in Ikamara’s story. I hope you enjoy and clear up any questions you guys have for my OC! Thanks again!!

~ Ike ‘n Bar Productions Productions

Setting: Starts in the past when Ike had just begun talking to her family after her two years of being mute. After that, it begins before the epilogue of Chapter Three.

You don’t need to know Ike’s story to understand what is happening but it would make more sense if you did read it!!

Warnings: Stories of abuse, murder, and domestic violence. It doesn’t go too far into detail but if you are sensitive to those tones, I’d suggest not reading.

But! We also have foster family bonding!, Adri being a sassy freak!, dares that involve second hand embarrassment!, Ashton character development!, Sam being the best younger brother ever!!, and cute lil Lola! Not to mention a flirty surprise guest at the end ,’:)

One Shot: Soccer Practice

“Hey! How was practice?”

Ike could sense something was off with Sam the moment he got to the car. He didn’t jump into it with his usual enthusiasm and his smile seemed to be sapped of energy. Still, he smiled and answered Maria’s question as best he could. “Fine. We just practiced strategies for tomorrow’s game.” Ike kept her eyes on Sam, waiting for him to keep talking.

But he didn’t.

Maria, seemingly unaware of Sam’s bad mood, said, “That’s nice, sweetie!” and pulled the car out of park. Sam rested his head on the soccer ball that he had brought with him and stared adamantly out of the window. Ike sat impatiently next to the sorrowful kid, asty to ask what was wrong. She had just barely begun talking to people again. She didn’t want to cross any boundaries. She would have asked Ashton, her second foster brother, for advice, but his eyes were trained on his new phone and he had no intention on looking away.

Ike folded her arms impulsively. Noticing this, Sam finally looked over to her, catching her eyes before she could look away. “What’s wrong?” He asked, tilting his head slightly. Ike’s hands tightened on her sleeves.

“I... was hoping you would answer that.” She muttered, looking meaningfully at Sam.

Sam shook his hands in front of him, smiling emptily. “Nothing!” He said all too loudly, “I had a good day! I’m-” He paused, looking between Ike’s eyes. Finally, Sam sighed, dropping his smile into something that seemed more comfortable for him to wear. “...How did you know?” Sam whispered, diverting his eyes from Ike’s.

“We are... connected. R-right?” Ike asked meekly.

Sam smiled softly. “Right.” He nodded. Ike nodded as well , relaxing her grip on her shoulders slightly.

“So… What happened?”

Sam remained silent for a moment. Then he sighed and slouched in his seat. “I’m holding the team back.” He said, leaning his head on the palm of his hand as he looked back out the window, “Everyone is so fast and they have all the strategies down. Then there’s me. The guy who can’t even kick a goal without tripping up.” Sam’s voice trailed off slightly, making him harder and harder to hear, “It’s because everyone has someone they can practice with at home. But, I don’t! I have a twin brother who hates sports, an older brother who is always out with friends, and a dad who is always working late as a janitor of some big company. I’m never gonna be as good as my team.” Sam pouted as tears came to his eyes, “I’ll only drag them down.”

Ike shifted slightly in her seat. She didn’t know what to do. Her question she asked made her brother cry. She didn’t want him to cry. She wanted him to smile. What was she supposed to do?! Ike took a deep breath and put a hand on Sam’s shoulder. Sam looked up at her.

“I’m sorry you suck.” Ike’s voice cracked slightly as she spoke to him. Sam’s eyes went wide. He blinked at her for a moment, then he burst out laughing. Ike’s face flushed. That wasn’t the reaction she was going for but… she could work with it...

“Man, you’re bad at this.” Sam giggled, wiping away the tears that had fallen down his cheeks. Ike’s face fell slightly. “B-but!” Sam quickly said, waving his hands and bringing Ike’s attention back to him, “But I know you meant well!! So thank you!” Ike hesitated, then nodded. She took her hand off of Sam’s shoulder, folding them once more across her chest. Sam leaned his head onto her shoulder tenderly.

“If only you could help me with soccer.” he sighed, “Then I could be better and we could spend more time together.” Ike watched the boy at her side. She couldn’t do that. She promised herself she never would again. Not since… but Ike wanted nothing more than to see his normal smile again. And to do so would mean… it was time to swallow her pride and do the right thing.

Ike leaned forward and tapped Maria on the shoulder. “C-can me and Sam go to the... park?” Ike asked timidly. Maria’s eyes flashed with surprise as she looked at Ike through the rearview mirror.

“Right now?” Maria asked, tilting the mirror to see her clearer.

“You can drop Sam and me off and take Ashton to his club,” Ike’s voice tightened as she quickly made her case, “and you can come back to pick us up after it’s done. I just… want to help Sam... with his soccer… is that’s ok?.” Ike’s voice trailed off as she watched Maria in the mirror. Maria’s face turned from a face of curiosity to one of warmth and love as her foster daughter spoke.

“That’s very sweet of you, Evie.” She cooed, “I’m ok with it as long as you two stick together.” Ike sighed with relief and nodded. “We will. Thank you.” She leaned back in her seat, taking slow breaths to ease her panic ridden heart. Sam wrapped his arms around Ike’s arm, squeezing it tightly. Ike looked down at her brother. His eyes were stars as he looked back at her. His normal bright, missing toothed smile had returned. “Thank you, Ike.” He whispered sincerely. Ease settled into Ike’s shoulders.

Maria drove away after dropping Ike and Sam off. They walked together through the park until they came to a small soccer field. Sam ran up one of the benches, threw his back pack onto it, and kicked his soccer ball out to the field and started playing with it. Ike placed her school bag next to Sam’s and, after a moment of consideration, took off her jacket and placed it with the bags. Pulling her sleeves down and over the palms of her hand, she joined Sam on the field.

Sam stopped playing and watched Ike. She always seemed so closed off and she always hid her arms. He always wondered the answer but was too afraid to ask. Maria always told him that he was to be careful talking with her but… she was still a kid. Just like him. She just needed someone to love her like she was normal. Even if she wasn’t.

“Are you… ok?”

Sam blinked and focused his eyes on Ike. She leaned forward, trying to meet his eyes. Sam quickly smiled and nodded quickly. Before Ike could ask him anything more he kicked the ball to Ike, holding back slightly and letting it fall slightly short of her feet. She watched it for a moment. Then she tucked the ball over her foot and kicked the ball straight up in the air. She skillfully caught it on the side of her foot as it came back down and started toying with the ball, tossing it back and forth, getting used to the all too familiar weight. Sam watched her, mouth slacked and eyes bulging. Never had she ever looked so cool to him.

Ike looked up at Sam. A warmth rolled onto her cheeks as his sparkling eyes met hers. She cleared her throat and kicked the ball to him. “That was so cool!!” Sam jumped up and down and ran to Ike, ignoring the ball. “Where did you learn to do that?” Ike paused and looked down.

“That’s... not what we are here to learn.” Ike moved back to the ball as she timidly spoke, “Right now, I need you to show me what you need to work on," Ike gestured to the goal behind her, “And kick the ball into the goal.”

Sam nodded, “Alright but afterwards, no need to teach me how to do that!” Ike pursed her lips to prevent a rising smile as she braced herself at the goal. Sam assumed his position behind the ball and eyed Ike. He stayed there a moment, toying with her, hoping to psych her out. But Ike remained perfectly poised over the goal. In a flash, Sam kicked the ball. It sailed up and right for the goal. But before it could go in, Ike stopped it. She casually reached out and plucked it out of the air like it was nothing. "See?” Sam growled, kicking at the ground, “I told you I'm not fast enough."

"How hard you kick the ball isn’t what’s important here." Ike said seriously as she approached Sam, "You.. you are paying too much attention to what the goalie is doing instead of where you are kicking... Here.” Ike passed the ball to Sam, "Don't look at the goalie. Just look at where you want to kick the ball."

"But Couch says I need to watch them for where they are moving!" Sam said quickly. Ike shook her head.

"The goalie has their job and you have yours." Ike spoke plainly, pulling Sam's undecided attention closer to her, "You should keep their movements in mind, but your main focus should be where you're kicking. If you think about the goalie too much, you'll subconsciously kick to them, making it easier for them to stop you.” Ike paused a moment. For some reason she was out of breath. It really had been a while since she had spoken this much. “… does that… make sense?" Ike added, hoping her speed was only taxing her instead of Sam.

Sam slowly nodded, “Yeah. It does! You know, you explain it much better then couch does.” He placed the ball in front of his feet, “He just yells at me and tells me I’m a good for nothing kid.” Ike’s hands clenched into fists. “Ok!” Sam said, not noticing Ike’s change in attitude, ”Are you-”

“You’re not good for nothing!”

Ike’s yelling caused Sam to stubble slightly. Ike puffed her cheeks and stood up straight as she pointed a finger at him. “You are needed, and important, and bring more happiness then you know, okay?! Don’t let that couch, or anyone else for that matter, tell you otherwise! Got it?!” Sam blinked at Ike.

“Ye-yeah. I know.” He stammered, “I’m sure he just says that to get me to work harder. I don’t think he means it or anything.”

“Yeah… w-well.” Ike’s face quickly grew red as she looked at the ground, “Those words should never be used lightly…” The two of them sat in heavy silence for a moment. Sam had questions he wanted to ask but swallowed them. If she wanted him to know, she’d tell him.

“H-hey.” Sam called, getting Ike to look up at him, “Thank you. It means a lot.” He smiled brightly, the brightest Ike had ever seen since she had moved into their foster home. It was almost contagious.

Ike’s blush brightened as she nodded. She covered her mouth with her hand but Sam could still she her squinting her eyes, showing the emotion she tried so hard to hide. It filled him with determination.

“Ok!” Sam said, bracing himself at the ball, “Ready?!” Ike looked at him then cleared her throat and braced herself as well.

“Yeah.” She said, glaring at the ball, “Let’s do this.”

>>>

“In other news, the anniversary of one Tyler Young-Diaz’s death is coming up. The once renowned soccer player who led Loveland City’s soccer team to victory plenty of times before his demise. He died from-”

The television went black.

“Hey!” Sam whipped his head around, “I was watching that!”

“You can watch it when we get back.” I said, tossing the remote on my foster parent’s couch, “You ready for practice, kiddo?” Sam’s once agitated face lit up.

“Yeah!” Sam jumped up from the ground, where he was absentmindedly playing with his baby sister, and ran to my side, “Are you finally going to show me how to do some cool tricks?! Like, when you look like you’re gonna kick the ball one way but you actually kick it another?!”

“Settle down, kid.” I rubbed Sam’s head, “Once you’re able to get a goal on me, I’ll think about it.”

“Are you guys leaving?” Maria called from the kitchen.

“Yeah!” Sam and I called at the same time.

“Could you take the other kids with you? They’ve been on their phone since they woke up.”

“Sure.” I said, despite Sam’s growls of annoyance, “Do you want me to take Lola too?”

“That would be great!” Maria poked her head out of the kitchen and smiled at me gratefully, “Thank you, Evie!”

“Of course.” I continued into the room and gave Sam’s head another rub, “Go get Ashton and Adri for me, Sam.”

“Ugh,” Sam whined but still made his way to the stairwell, “This is gonna suck.”

“Oh, come on.” I said, scooping up Lola from the blanket she was playing on, “It won’t be that bad. I’m sure we won’t even know that they’re there.”

"OK. I saw the sun. Can I go home now?"

"Ugh, couldn't you have picked a time to practice when the sun isn't so bright?"

"I don't even have reception out here! And Maria cut off my data so no wifi either! This blows!"

"I mean, what am I even going to do at the park? I'm not a baby anymore. I don't want to play on the playground."

“Stop giving me the death glare, Sam. I can take a message.”

“Obviously not.” Sam growled at his siblings. In between the complaints, Sam would catch my eye and flash me an expression that screamed 'I told you so.' Still, I remained optimistic as we reached the soccer field. Adri and Ashton sat at the benches and began to pull out their phones. With my Lola free hand, I snatched them away from their hands. They both looked at me with shock and anger.

"You were brought here to be away from your phones." I said, giving them a stern look, "Now, meet Sam out on the field."

"But-" Ashton and Adri began to introgect but one flash of my evil eye shut them both up. They reluctantly stood up and walked with me to the field.

"They're joining us?!" Sam scoffed, "But they are just going to slow us down!"

"Come on kiddo." I rolled my eyes and patted Sam on the back, "Buck up! You're starting to sound like them."

We all worked together to set out Lola’s play pen then, with her placed safely next to me, we all created a circle facing each other. I bounced the ball on the side of my foot and looked at the group. “Alright,” I said in the best couch voice I could muster, “Today we are going to play a little game of truth or dare. Pass the ball to the person you want to ask and they must comply.”

“Boring!” Adri groaned, “Truth or dare is a sad game that little girls play at slumber parties to talk about who likes who. Besides, the dares are weak. ‘I dare you to tell your crush you like them!’, ‘I dare you to tell a stranger they look nice!’, ‘I dare you to knock on a door then run away!’” Adri blew a raspberry.

“Ok, if you are so confident,” I passed the ball to Adri, “Accept a dare from me.” Adri caught the ball clumsily between her legs. All the same, she looked up at me with determination.

“Fine!” Adri scoffed and folded her arms, “Hit me with your best shot, Granny!” I smirked and pulled out my phone. With one quick scroll through my contacts, I pulled up a certain someone’s profile. I hummed to myself and held out the phone to Adri. “Adrienne, I dare you to call Lucien and tell him about that mole growing on your back.”

Adri’s face flushed royally, “H-How did you know about that?!” She stammered.

“You just told me.” My smirk grew. Adri stood dormant.

“Wh-what if I say no?” She asked, her trembling voice erasing what sassiness she held before. I hummed and reached into Lola’s diaper bag.

“I get to draw on your face and post it in my moments.” I said, waving a washable red marker in the air.

“Pfft, I can do that.” Adri said, approaching me confidently. Before she could take the marker, I pulled it away.

“I wouldn’t be too sure.” I said, my smile unwavering, “I wouldn’t think you’d want a certain someone seeing that.”

“I don’t care if Professor-”

“I’m not talking about Lucien.” I mused, “I’m talking about a certain superstar. I don’t know if you’ve heard him. His name is Kiro?” Adri’s normally pale face became ghastly as she stared at me wide eyed.

“K-Kiro follows you?!” She gasped.

“Oh yeah. And he often is the first to react to a post.” I brought the pen back down into Adri’s reach, “So, still want me to draw on you?”

Adri remained motionless. Her eyes played how much emotions she couldn’t quite express. Ashton giggled from behind her. “Oh man.” He chuckled, “You’re boned!” Sam burst into laughter and leaned on his twin for support.

“You’ve got to choose which hot guy is worth making yourself a fool out of!” Sam laughed heartily, “You should have kept your mouth shut!”

“As should you.” I chimed, looking up at the boys, “Don’t forget, it will be your turn eventually.” The twins gulped.

In a flash, Adri swiped my phone from my hand. She pressed a few buttons on it and held it up to her ear. “Don’t pick up. Don’t pick up!” She chanted rocking back and forth in her heels, “Don’t- SHIT AH I HAVE A MOLE ON MY BACK!” And with that, she pulled the phone from her ear, hung up the call, and chucked the phone at me.

“Swear jar.” Ashton chimed, covering a large grin as Sam fell to the floor in a fit of laughter. With a furious red face, Adri glared menacingly at me.

“You are evil!!” She huffed. I lowered my head so I stood eye to eye with her. With a cunning smile, I responded,

“Never challenge Ikamara Bikira.”

And so our time on the field continued. Adri, now dead set on exacting her revenge on me, soon got lost in the game as Sam and Ashton soon got their comeuppance. Ashton through telling everyone he secretly plays detective with his stuffed animals when he is alone in his room, and Sam when he confessed to the girl in his art class over the phone that he was the one who drew a mustache on the masterpiece that cost her an A.

Soon, the ball was passed to me by Ashton. “Alright, kid.” I said through a steady smile as I messed with the ball between my feet, “Hit me.” Ashton watched me as I played with the ball, his eyes clouded with thought.

“... Tell us how you know how to play soccer.”

I stopped playing with the ball. The happy energy in the group tanked quickly as I looked up at Ashton. “... What?”

“Tell us how you know how to play soccer.” He reiterated, “You’ve been teaching Sam soccer for years and he has gotten good. Really good. So that would bring up the question, how does a business woman such as you know how to play so well?”

“... You didn’t even ask me, truth or dare.”I said, trying hard to hold back what anxiety pooled at my throat.

“Ok, truth or dare?” Ashton asked, folding his arms.

“Dare.”

“I dare you to answer the question.”

I gritted my teeth and straightened my posture.

“Uh, hey!” Sam quickly said, “Maybe there can be a line that we don’t-”

“No, no.” I waved my hand to Sam but maintained my eye contact with Ashton, “You all did what you were dared to do… I can too.” paused then took in a deep breath.

“I learned it at my fourth foster home.”

The field went silent...

“... I just told an insanely hot college professor I had a mole on my back.” Adri deadpanned, “I think we need a little more than that.”

“Ok, fine.” I groaned. My eyes fell to the soccer ball sitting idly between my feet. Small flashes of suppressed memories flew past my eyes. I blinked them away but I knew I couldn’t hold them back. Ashton was right, I had been teaching Sam soccer since I was fifteen. He had a right to know… they all did.

After a pause that seemed to last ages, I sighed. “... I had just gotten out of the police station for turning in my abusive foster parent. I was immediately moved to an emergency foster house until they could find a new, permanent one for me to live in. The foster father welcomed me in like I had always been his daughter. He bathed me, clothed me, and gave me a warm meal to eat with in the first hour I was there. He was the best dad I had ever had… but the foster mother wasn’t as kind.

“She would always find something that she hated about me. My hair, clothes, skin, and so on. She particularly hated seeing the scars that my last family had left and would constantly nag that I would cover them up. But it wasn’t just me that she would yell at.

“Her and her husband would constantly fight. So much so that I had to play my radio at full volume to block out the sound. Though it would only make the mother angrier as she would start yelling at me to turn it down…” I took a deep breath, “But the father wouldn’t give up on me. While the mother was at work and he had time off from his… work, we would do something that only belonged to us. Something that he loved to do and could teach like it was riding a bike… and that was soccer.

“He taught me how to play any chance he could. It would be away from his wife, full of exercise, and the perfect way for him to be spending time in between work. We really got to know each other. In fact, he talked about running away together. Just the two of us… playing together forever…” I paused.

“... What happened?” Adri asked impatiently. I cringed. The memories I tried so hard to stifle shot like daggers behind my eyes.

“... One day, around six at night, my foster father came home from a long trip. I was already in the backyard, playing with the soccer ball and readying for our practice. But, his wife had gotten to him first. They started fighting again but it wasn’t like how it was before. They were screaming at each other, threatening each other, as if the fight was about to get physical. It got to the point where I couldn’t understand what they were saying. And then, as quick as it started, it stopped. Something felt off so I went into the house, only to find that my foster father was on the ground… bleeding out from his head. That woman was standing over him, holding one of his trophies and looking at her husband in horror. It didn’t take long for her to notice me and, when she did, all hell broke loose.

“She blamed me for what happened, said that the fight wouldn’t have begun if I had just stayed with my last family. Then, she kicked me out, told me to never come back and that if I told the police she would end me like she did to him. I didn’t give it a second thought. I quickly packed my things into a school bag and took off. I walked for hours until I was at the foster center. I refused to talk about what happened, terrified out of my mind from what that wench said.

“Later I had found out that the foster center agreed with the police to keep my being there out of the papers to shelter me from any press so no one knew I was there… or how much that man meant to me…

“After spending some time in an orphanage, I had eventually found my way into the home you guys find yourselves in now… and, the rest is history.”

After finishing my monologue, I was scared to look at the faces standing before me. I expected them to press me for details, to badger me for names or tell me that I was lying and to tell the real reason. Instead, Adri did something much worse.

“... Your foster parent was Tyler Young-Diaz, wasn’t it?”

Though her voice was small, it sent shockwaves through my head. I looked up at her. She was looking at me with wide eyes and a complicated expression, one of which the other two boys held as well.

Seeing that I wasn’t going to respond, Adri continued, “I read about it today. He was murdered by his wife with his nationals trophy.”

“...yeah. That was him.” I sighed, looking back down at the ball at my feet.

“... So, you were taught soccer under a professional?!” Adri asked with feigned excitement. I looked back up at her in confusion.

“Really?!” Ashton scoffed and punched Adri’s arm, “Is that really all you got from that story?!”

“Hey! I’m just trying to lighten the mood!” Adri glared at Ashton as she rubbed her arm, “What else do you say to someone who just confessed to witnessing her foster father’s murder?!?”

“Ike.” Sam spoke up. I turned to him. He looked at me with tearfilled eyes, “Did all of that really happen?” I hesitated, then nodded. Sam winced as if he were in pain. Before I could ask, he ran to me and nearly tackled me with a hug. “I’m so sorry.” He sobbed, clutching to my shirt tightly, “I didn’t know! I should have never agreed to learn from you! I would have just kept playing poorly if it meant you’d never have to relive those days.”

“Hey.” I pried Sam off of my stomach to look him in the eye, “Weren’t you paying attention? The time I played soccer with Tyler was the best time I had spent with that family. Playing soccer with you isn’t painful. It’s my favorite time of the week.” Sam’s eyes welled with tears once again, but I could tell it wasn’t for the same reason as before. He buried his head back into my stomach.

“I love you, Ike.” He sobbed, rubbing his face into my clothes. I sighed and stroked his head softly. I looked up and caught the eyes of Adri and Ashton as they watched us, longingly, eyes watering slightly. I rolled my eyes and held out my arms.

“Bring it in.” I said, gesturing to them. Adri and Ashton exchanged looks, then joined us in our hug, pulling us all tightly together. Our hold only lasted a moment before a disgruntled yelp sounded from beside me. I looked down to find an angry baby looking up at us.

“Alright, Lola.” I sighed and scooped the baby up from her pen, “You can join in.” Lola’s face immediately lit up as we brought her into the hug. She giggled and grabbed for whatever she could reach. Unfortunately for Ashton, it was his hair.

“Alright!” He quickly called, delicately removing Lola’s fingers from his head, “Hug time’s over.” Sam and Adri laughed and quickly backed out of the hug to help Ashton.

“What a practice this turned out to be.” Sam chuckled, wiping the last of his tears away.

“Aw man. I miss the hug?!?"

We all turned and caught sight of our sharply dressed, disappointment looking, eldest foster brother strolling into view. "First you don't invite me to your sibling pow wow and now I don't even get a hug!" Chris pouted, extending his empty arms out to us.

"Chris!" Sam exclaimed, running to vacate the space between Chris' arms. Chris accepted Sam's hug, pulling him off his feet and into the air as he shook him around. Adri rolled his eyes and walked over to him while Ashton hid behind me for protection. This backfired as Chris approached me from a hug and I accepted, dragging my little brother in with me. Ashton groaned and struggled out of my grip, bringing a chuckle throughout the group.

"I came to visit you guys but no one was home!" Chris said, plucking Lola from my hands, "Momma Maria said you'd be here! But, what’s with the tears?”

“Ashton asked the wrong question.” Adri deadpanned.

“Sam is an emotional dork.” Ashton retaliated.

“We learned more about Ike’s past!” Sam beamed, “She told us about her last foster family before us! The hug just kinda happened... almost like we all found a new appreciation for each other.” Sam looked meaningfully around the circle. Ashton rolled his eyes and shoved his brother.

“Like I said, emotional dork.” Ashton tactlessly remarked. Sam growled and jumped at Ashton. I caught Sam in mid-air, stopping him from making any contact with Ashton.

“Alright, kiddos.” I said, picking Sam up casually and sitting him on my shoulder, “How bout some ice cream?” Sam cheered loudly, causing Lola to cheer as well. Adri and Ashton exchanged looks of begrudged approval. I looked up at Chris. “You care for some family time, pal?” I asked with a smile. Chris beamed brightly.

“Let’s go!” He cheered, jumping in place like a child. I rolled my eyes and placed Sam down as the phone in my pocket vibrated obsessively.

“Take care of the pen, would you, Sam?” I asked as I pulled out my phone. Sam quickly complied and began taking it down, humming to himself happily. I smiled and, without looking at my phone, answered the phone.

“Speaking.”

“... A mole on your back, you say?” A familiar voice chimed.

My heart leapt.

“I’m afraid I have more questions then answers, Evelyn.” Lucien added through an obvious smile.

“Sorry, Lucien.” I said as eased my posture slightly, “We were playing truth or dare and I had Adri call you. Don’t take what she said seriously.”

“We?” Lucien asked curiously.

“Ashton and Sam were there too. We spent the afternoon playing truth or dare while Sam practiced his passing for soccer.”

“I see.” Lucien mused, “Did you have fun?” I looked over at my siblings, who were all laughing and talking together.

“Yeah.” I answer genuinely through a genuine smile, “I feel like we have grown closer as siblings.” I directed my attention back to Lucien, “I’m sorry if I pulled you from your work.”

“Not at all.” Lucien said quickly, “In fact, I have some free time to keep talking to you. May I press you for details on your day?”

My smile grew, “Sure. I can talk.”

(Next)

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ahiddenpath · 4 years

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My Current Thoughts on Writing Fanfics

I’m so glad I’ve had this bloggity since 2012, because I can see how much my approach to writing has changed! I wanted to touch base on where I am now, plus answer the most common questions I receive about writing fanfics beneath the cut.

Obligatory disclaimer: I’m a hobbyist writer, this is meant to be taken as opinion/reflection, not advice, different approaches work for different people, annnnd also check out my digimon fanfics (FFN and AO3).

How do I develop a regular writing habit?

I’d start by setting aside 15 minutes a day to write. Don’t focus on word count- writing x number of words can be intimidating, but most people can sit for 15 minutes and get something down. If you’re writing on a computer, turn off the internet and place your phone out of reach

Gradually increase the session length.

Never worry about the quality of your writing while you’re drafting. That’s what editing and subsequent drafts are for. I have a post on utilizing successive drafts to combat writing paralysis here, but the tl;dr is that the pressure to write a perfect story in the first draft often turns writing into an agonizing trial instead of creative play.

Your first draft is bad, period, at least compared to what it will be. In the kindest way possible, get over it. Your value as a writer- or as a human!- isn’t tied into your questionable first draft. Please explore your story in the earliest stages with enthusiasm, not criticism! You’re going to make it so much better by the time you’re finished!

How do you write so much?

See, here’s one of the biggest changes in my mindset compared to my early days as ahiddenpath. I used to think that doing all of this writing was like... extra credit, like a stretch goal I pushed myself to achieve.

I learned in therapy starting in 2018 that the reason I keep writing is because I have to. I have general anxiety disorder, and my brain... Have you seen an old-timey cartoon with a boiler? They are drawn swollen, metal distorting with steam pressure, rivets groaning and popping free. That’s how I feel if I don’t write. Don’t ask me why or how, but writing is like turning a valve to release the pressure.

(Quick PSA- my therapist calls creative outlets “coping skills.” If you feel like you have boiler brain, make time for your hobbies, no matter how tired you are.)

For me, writing is challenging play. Although I’m often conveying messages that matter to me or exploring ideas I want to work through, and I try to make the best product I can... I don’t take it seriously, and I don’t sweat over it. I’m here to wander, play, and take care of myself.

So basically, I think the recipe for producing lots of writing is: regularity/habit (do it every day, even for just a little while), minimizing distractions, separating the processes of drafting and editing, turning off criticism in the early stages of drafting, and writing for yourself and your own needs.

Do you feel embarrassed about writing fanfic?

Nope. I write for my mental health/because it’s fun, period. However, I also don’t tell people IRL that I write fanfic! But I’m a private person (I don’t tell people IRL that I’m asexual, for example, and I only tell them I have anxiety if I freeze up in front of them).

Do you feel embarrassed about writing OCs/fakemon?

Hahahaha! Look, I know there are lots of people who won’t read OCs and fakemon. I know there are probably people who wish I would stick to more canon stuff (both in terms of OCs and my strong preference for AUs).

But I’m here to write what I want, and while it makes me happy when people read and enjoy my work... It’s no skin off my back if they don’t. I already fulfilled my goal of taking care of myself.

Don’t you want to get published and make money for your writing?

No, not at this time. For everyone who has said that I have the writing skill to be published, thank you so very much. That’s so kind, and I truly appreciate it!

But... The United States has the enormous capitalistic attitude problem that endeavors are only worthwhile if they generate capital. I can’t even begin to tell you how damaging this concept is- literally, I’m not equipped with the sociopolitical educational background.

Sometimes I think I’d like to become a published novelist? But sometimes I recall that I have a dope research gig, and I wanna play around with writing in my free time.

To be clear, I’m not saying that you shouldn’t pursue your creative career dreams!!! And, who knows, maybe some day I’ll get tired of research and want to try swapping to the hobby/skill I’ve spent so much time refining. Just... Never stop doing something fun and harmless you enjoy because “it doesn’t make money.”

I’m not gonna sit here acting like I know what the purpose of life is, but I think having fun and meeting your needs is pivotal.

Okay, so how can I support my favorite fandom content creators?

Bless you, f’real. The easiest way is to comment on their stuff. For meta writers, leave comments, engage, ask questions. For fanfiction writers, leave reviews. I have so many lovely folks who chat with me over Tumblr or discord after reading my stuff, which is so great. But it’s hard to find those sweet messages later. I can always click on reviews any time I need a little positive reinforcement/boost. So, even if you’re going to talk to the writer later... Leave that review!

If the content producer uses social media, reblog their stuff to give them more exposure. Likes are for you, so you can find a post later. Reblogs are for the creators, so other people can see their work.

Things like fanart, fanfic of fanfic, cosplays, and other... fan content of fan content make our year, I promise! We love that so stinkin’ much!

Some fan content producers have a ko-fi and/or a patreon, so sometimes there are monetary ways to show appreciation.

If you’re intimated by a content producer, please remember that we are all massive dorkasauruses. I absolutely guarantee it.

How do you have so many ideas?!

Ah, I have a Future Projects page on my blog- I don’t think pages work on mobile.

But here’s the secret: ideas are the easy part. They are literally a dime a dozen. Heck, there are AU generators! Just pick characters out of a hat and use an AU generator and bam, you’re off! And even then, you don’t need a real idea to start writing! I launched Four Years on the thought of, “hahaha, wouldn’t it be a mess if the Chosen went to college together?!”

We’re writing fanfic; we’re here to play. There’s no need to crush yourself with the expectation that you must write the next hit thriller plot.

In my opinion, the much better question is: how do you manage your projects such that you complete them?

So, uh, how do you manage your projects?

I’ve established that I write fanfic to play and to take care of myself, but I do want to grow as a writer along the way. And the best way to learn how to craft narratives is to practice completing them. If you launch stories over and over and only write roughly 1/4 to 1/3 of the way through the story... All you’re practicing is how to start a story.

When I first started writing as ahiddenpath, I did exactly zero planning (see the Four Years reference above). I ended up with longfics stretching as long as 400K+ words- that’s over six novels (based on the average adult fiction novel length)!!!!! It is so daunting to work on longfics, because you feel like the ending is nowhere to be seen.

SO most of my pointers circle around always writing towards your ending, even before you start!

-Decide what you want to say with your story before you start writing.

First, “what you want to say” doesn’t have to be a big, grand theme. It can be as big as “how the trauma of their adventures impacted them after” or as small as “I think these dorks would have a good time at laser tag.”

I’m not talking about a detailed outline (in fact, I personally hate outlines). Just know what your story is about and make sure what you write points to it. If you can make the structure of your story mimic your theme, even better! But no worries if that doesn’t work out, it’s not always possible.

-Write linearly

The best way to keep moving along in your story is just to... keep writing it in order. This helps achieve regular updates, and prevents you from potentially “losing” material if you change your mind about the plot before reaching the bit you wrote already. This happened to me so frequently that I stopped writing ahead of myself. If I have an idea, I write it down, but I don’t draft future scenes. In my experience, they often never see the light of day.

I’m told people often write the bit of the story they most want to write first? If you have a single scene that you’re really longing to write, but you don’t know how to get there/don’t want to write the rest... May I suggest that you... don’t write the rest? If your scene works as a oneshot, write that oneshot! Don’t torture yourself with a lot of writing you don’t want to do. Most often, people end up forcing their way through 1-4 chapters, then stalling before ever reaching the Good Bit.

A moment of silence for all of the unwritten Good Bits out there. Now, some Enya.

If you can’t reduce Good Bit setup to a oneshot, reduce as much as possible. I think that sometimes, people underestimate the incredible advantages of writing fanfiction? Everyone knows your characters already, and maybe even the setting, if you keep it canon. You can cut out the setup and dive right into what you want to do with the characters!

-Think about the structure of your story before you start

Considering the structure of your story is a fantastic way to estimate how long it will be/ensure that there is an ending in sight from the start. For example, in Voices, I covered a single school year in Japan, writing a diary entry for a different Chosen every day, so I knew that I would write the story for roughly a year. After August had one chapter per Chosen, so each child could help Taichi deal with his post Adventure trauma in their own way, plus an opening and closing chapter. My Tri story, Tri: Integrity Lens, is written and posted in installments covering each Tri movie.

It’s fine if no particular structure strikes you. I could see forced structure turning into a gimmick, you know? But if it naturally works out, it’s a great way to have a solid idea of how much story is ahead of you before you start, and where the story will end. And being cognizant of how and when a story ends from chapter one yields a tighter, shorter fic, one that you’re more likely to complete.

-Consider writing in batches/sections before posting

So lately, I’ve been experimenting with how I deliver fanfic updates. I mentioned that my Tri fic follows the Tri movies. Each movie is covered with a few 3,000-6,000 word updates that I post every other week. I cover an entire movie before posting any of it, and then I plan to take a break in between movies to work on either the next movie or a different fic.

AND THIS IS SO GREAT! Having large chunks of my story written is such a fantastic way to do things! I keep thinking of little details I can add/things I should mention and noticing inconsistencies I can fix before posting. Giving myself a larger picture and time to mull over it by spreading out updates is making a huge difference for me.

Plus, giving yourself little breaks between installments can help keep you fresh and motivated, while leaving your audience waiting at a nice, natural stopping point. Plus, this way they know that you haven’t just... up an vanished or dropped a story. You’re just taking an announced break.

How do you plan stories?

I believe I mentioned hating outlines. I personally respond best to “structured freedom.” I focus on things like: what are my themes/what do I want to say, how will the characters grow or regress, how is this story structured or formatted, what is the overall tone and mood. Other than that, I keep things fluid... Which is why it’s so important for me to enforce some kind of ending point before I begin.

Basically, for me, too much planning = a boring slog where I can’t inject the moods and ideas of the day into my work without derailing meticulous plans. Too little planning = longfic hell. I’m guessing that everyone has to decide for themselves where they land on this continuum! Exploration is vital.

Okay, I am out of steam for today. If you have any other writing/fanfic questions you’d like answered, please let me know! Here are some other resources I’ve made.

-Combating writing paralysis with successive drafts

-Dishing with an artist

-Tips for Fanfic Authors

-More Tips for Fanfic Authors

-Tips for Winning Nanowrimo

-Resources/Advice for Digimon Adventure Fanfic Writers

#writing talk #writing fanfics #writing fanfiction #writing fics

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nosferatyou · 4 years

Text

If I Can Be So Bold: Chapter 1 (Jack White x OC)

Summary: Rosalie and her band “By Elliston” move from Nashville to Detroit to continue their music careers and move away from their demons. Rosalie notices an unhappy face in the crowd of their first show, and is instantly drawn to him. While she doesn't mind that hes easy on the eyes she does mind his less than stellar attitude about their music.

Word Count: 3K

Warnings: Drug use, language, and mentions of abuse.

Notes: Well this has been brewing for A WHILE. I’ve been everywhere deciding on a plot, but after tedious planning this is finally a reality. I hope the 5 Jack White fans on here enjoy this. This will be a series so strap in folks. We got young jack. we got old jack. we got everything in between. (also series names are hard) Enjoy! Appreciate all the research i did!

Chapter Two

“Do you want another?”

He holds his hand above me, his dark eyes burning holes into me, he pulls back more as if ready to strike again. As if on command, I recoil from the movement, feeling smaller than I ever had.

My head shoots up, suddenly back in Zoot’s coffee house. I blink a couple of times, trying to wake myself up. I couldn’t remember what she asked.

“What?” I asked her, phasing back into reality again, and not what was a horrific nightmare.

Sat next to me was my best friend and singer in our band was Harry, or Harriet if you want to be technical. Her head was held high, and she was practically jumping out of her skin with excitement, she seemed more than ready for our first show in a new town.

She moved one of her two shots in front of me and asked again.

“Are you deaf, Lee? I asked if you wanted another shot before we go on.”

I quickly sat up and grabbed it off the makeshift bar, anything to shake off what I was feeling.

We clinked our drinks together, and she yelled out a toast over the crowd of people behind us.

“To fresh starts and new stomping grounds!”

We clinked our drinks and quickly downed them, both of us coughing from our burning throats, but as soon as we saw our red faces, we burst out into laughter.

“We are horrible at shots, aren’t we?” I said in between wheezes of laughter.

“We truly are.” She paused and grabbed the bottle. “One more for good luck!.”

It seems like this is the night, if any, to drink.

We’d just gotten to Detroit. Like just got here a week ago and are already booking shows. We all decided to move her for reasons I won’t mention, but I’ll just say that we needed to switch up our scene a bit.

Our band “By Elliston” had grown pretty big in the Nashville scene, we played pretty frequently at the Exit/In. Which is not the biggest venue in the world, but it means something for the Nashville scene. I mean, we technically shared a stage with Muddy Waters and BB King, so that’s at least something to brag about.

We were known in the Nashville punk scene and had made some significant headway, but thanks to shitty people and our big egos, we decided to move to Detroit. Known for its great music and cars.

And here we are at Zoot’s Coffee shop, which is arguably a coffee shop honestly. Off a dark street, that no person with money would venture down, and the outside seems like nothing is out of the ordinary, it’s just a house on a street. But the inside. Its a home, its a coffee shop, and venue for anyone who has an instrument.

Its packed wall to wall with people, barely any standing room, especially near the stage, which is just a raised corner of the living room. Its the perfect venue for any rock band. Small and loud.

We (being the band and me) all lived for music, and it is our life’s blood.

I grew up in a very southern home and was always surrounded by music, thanks to my dad. Id never met a man who loves Johnny Cash more than him or country music for that matter. Cash would always play through the house, or Hank Williams, Waylon Jennings. That kind of thing. However, I can’t stand to listen to any of them now. Overplayed and over appreciated is what I always said.

That did spark something in me. I started playing guitar, thanks to my dad… and then I picked up the bass and then drums. And so on and so on. The moral is that If you hand me any stringed instrument ill know how to play it.

The other girls. Jo, Harriet, and Ezra. All got into good music when they were in high school, which also when we all met. Thanks to the high school band or orchestra. I played violin, as did Jo and Harriet, Ezra played the stand-up bass and continues with the bass to this day.

Now we’ve all moved on the from hot cross buns and into a world of rock and roll. We used to be terrible, covering a lot of Alice in Chains and Nirvana.

Graduating class of ‘93 for all of us, and we lived in a world of grunge. Five years later and we’ve since moved on from our teenage ways. We’ve embraced the blues and everything around it. However, we get a bit heavier than our inspirations, with my heavy fuzz and Harriet’s raspy yelps. With the look of punk dads (a lot of fun button-ups, dark makeup, and Dr. Martens boot) and the sounds of 4 angry ladies, we tore up Nashville.

We played a lot of house shows, met many a band, lost many a group, met a dumb boy who won’t be named (its John), and had a lot of fun tearing up the Nashville scene.

As we grew, we played bigger venues, the show of ‘96 at The End being the staple of our career. We’d never played as good as we did then, and none of us are convinced we’ll play as well as we did that night.

Either way, we were thrust forward, and our movement grew, we were making money from our shows, plus we played bigger venues. The Exit/In and The East Room, to name a couple. Last month we felt we needed a change of scenery to grow. As incredible, the Nashville scene is, its also quite small. Few venues and fewer people. That’s the other girl’s excuse, at least.

We scrounged up what we could, found an apartment here, and moved as soon as we could. Unlike the others, I had to burn some bridges to get here, but more will be made here. We scooped out the scene the moment we arrived and set up a show here, and we are all buzzing to perform again.

“So, who are we opening for again?” I asked as we headed to our van to start and unload our gear.

“The White somethings.” Jo absentmindedly answered, wrapping her jacket around herself for warmth.

Harriet quickly cut in, “The White Stripes, you mean.” Correcting her.

We all arrived at our shared van and started grabbing our mess of cables and cases.

Harriet continued, “I’ve been asking around all night about them, you know. To learn about the enemy and such.”

Jo popped her head up from the front seat and asked, “When have you had the time to ask around? I was with you literally all night.”

Harriet picked up her small load for the night and parked a seat on the car next to ours, lighting a cig while she sat.

“I have my ways.” She said, wiggling her eyebrows before taking a long drag.

“Anyways, here’s what I’ve learned. They’ve been around a year, the drummer learned when they got together, and guitarist leads the show.” She spoke with her ever-present dramatics, waving the cig around after every word.

“They can’t be that good if the drummers new, and they’ve only been playing a year.” Said Ezra, who was effortlessly carrying what seemed to be the world’s most massive bass amp.

“I don’t know, Z. It seems agreed that they know how to rock a room.” Harriet pipped up.

“What does it mean for us then?” Asked Jo who’s joint was lit and already in her mouth, and arms were full with various drums. Explains why she was digging around the front seat.

I quickly cut in, not about to let them get nervous over a baby band. “Absolutely nothing. We’ve got six years on them. These Detroit kids won’t know what hit them, we’re from music city for god’s sake.”

“That’s the spirit, Lee! Now get your asses inside so we can set up.” Harriet popped off the car and started walking towards the door, beckoning us towards her.

“Feel like helping us speed up the process, Harry?” Joked Jo.

“You’re big girls. I’m gonna go try and spot the enemy.” She yelled back to us.

“Oh, have fun, we will just be here carrying your band!” I yelled out.

“I knew I could count on you, darling!” She called out, throwing a wink and cigarette butt our way.

When we had finally reached the stage, the already crowded room had doubled in bodies. While most bands would be shaking in their boots, it only spurred us on more. While we all have our fair share of disagreements, we have one thing in common. Our shared headspaces before a show. All ready to take on anything, and our confidence is unwavering. The bigger, the better. It’s honestly what’s kept us together this whole time.

Now all eyes were on us, and it was a tough crowd, it was dead silent. The girls and I all exchanged a look and nodded. I always started us off. We had a set opener, it never changed and worked every time, but after that was a free for all. I usually took charge and just chose whatever I was feeling, but if not me, then Harriet. The other two just flowed with whatever we threw their way.

I always started first with the heavy riff, joined in by Ezra, then Jo, and finally Harriet.

The riff is what pulled them in, and it was always quite the sight. I got fully into it every time. It was dark, straightforward, and full of fuzz and feedback.

By the time Harriet joins in its mayhem, I speed up and play power chords. It’s not slow, but it’s not so fast that it’ll make your head spin.

As the short show progressed, we felt like how we used to feel every night. Pure joy, which is what we all fucking needed.

We improvised. I mashed up whatever songs I even threw in a little Stooges to thank the locals for letting us play. Though I did notice the gaze of one oddball in the back, who was just… watching.

While that doesn’t sound weird, it was sure out of the ordinary. He sat in the back, arms crossed leaned against the wall. The whole mysterious boy schtick was down pact. He wasn’t scowling, but he didn’t seem happy. It was off-putting and kept my focus over towards that corner of the room, but didn’t hinder the performance. Maybe it fueled it.

The show couldn’t have gone better, though. The crowd did not hide their whoops and hollers when we finished our last song of the set. I was already riding that performance high and will be for the rest of the night.

“Thanks for a great first night, Detroit! We’re “By Elliston,” and we hope to see you next time!”

Screamed out Harriet for a final goodbye as we headed off the stage, their applause carrying us off the small stage.

The moment we put down our instruments, we about took each other out, tacking one another to the ground.

As tradition carries, after every show, we used to just aggressively group hug, but over time we’ve grown more and more… excited. At one of our last shows at The Exit/In, I accidentally knocked out Jo by slamming into her too hard. If that gives any frame of reference to what our dog piles look like now.

“Ladies. If every show goes somewhat like that here, I think we will rule this scene.” Ezra said from the bottom of the pile, her words garbled from the mass of bodies.

“Alright, Lee, get your ass off the top, you’re gonna snuff me out down here.”

Without much warning, she slid out from underneath us, and the rest of us went down to the ground, causing all of us to erupt in laughter.

Once we all straightened ourselves out, we went to the van and had a celebratory cig, the first of many “celebratory” cigs of the night,

To my right was Harriet leaning against the tail light, and Jo and Ezra were sitting in the van next to me. Harriet broke the silence.

“You know I missed this, Lee. I’m glad you’re back.”

“What the fuck is that supposed to mean Har-” While talking I’d noticed three figures a few cars over walking to their own. My eyes widened in surprise. I grabbed Harriet’s arm suddenly and dragged her in with the rest of us.

“Shut up. It’s him.”

“What I wasn’t even talking-” she stopped and sat up to face, she wasn’t upset, but she sure looked confused. “Wait, who is “Him?”

I looked around to check to see if he could hear.

“I saw him when we were playing. He kept just… staring at me. It was weeeird.”

“Why’d you pull me in the car then??”

“I panicked! It was just weird!”

Ezra peaked her head out of the car in curiosity and asked. “Which one is it, the young blondie or the black-haired beauty?”

“Gah Jesus, not the child, Ezra! It’s the hot one.”

Harriet whipped her head out of the car to look at them, speaking a bit too loudly.

“Lee, you need to start off saying it was a HOT stranger! You have my interest now.”

“I’m going to kill both you. Get your dumbasses back in the car.”

We huddled back up, Harriet has a look in her eye that I don’t like.

“So, what’s the plan of action here, Lee?” Asked Harriet.

“Nothing. He’s a scowler. Sure a hot one at that, but if he can’t enjoy what we make, then what’s the point? When we played that stooges song, he looked like he was going to blow his top.”

“I think you’ve missed the point here, Lee. Point one, You’re fresh out of a toxic sludge of a relationship. Point two, hot stranger. And finally. Point three, he’s a hot stranger in a band. I’m not passing up this opportunity.”

She gave us a wink, took a final drag of her cig, and hopped out of the car. She was going over to them.

“Harriet, you fucker don’t you dare,” I said with gritted teeth. “I’ve tackled you once today, and I’ll do it again.”

She chuckled. “You’re all talk, kid. I’m off to make friends!”

“Bastard!” I yelled, leaping out of the car and towards her. I was too late, she just about ran over to them, and I was quickly in tow behind her.

“Well, look at that, Lee! New people. Hi there, I'm Harriet, but you can call me Harry. and this is Rosalie.” She extended her hand towards the three strangers.

“Its Lee actually, she’s just an asshole.”

All of them looked slightly taken aback. They were sure as hell wasn’t expecting her hand in their face, or two random ladies in their space. The newly named “hot stranger” was the first to speak up. He seemed rightly hesitant.

“I’m Jack, and this is my sister, Meg. This over here is my nephew, Ben. He’s our pinball wizard. Or Roadie in technical terms.”

“Well, good to meet Y’all!” Once she shook ben’s hand, he spoke up. Man he was young. Was he maybe 16? Not over 18 is the point.

“You guys played a hell of a show. The Stooges? Blues? You’re going to give these two a run for their money.”

Jack shifted on his heels when ben mentioned this. Same face as before, and little less friendly than introductions.

“Well, its all that Tennessee blood in us. Now we arent from Memphis, but Nashville’s close enough, right?” Harriet winked at the kid. His cheeks flushed a deep red.

Jack shifted his eyes back to me, but they wander somewhere else.

I clear my throat, he snaps his head up and makes eye contact with me, a small smirk falls on his face.

“Well, you all seem busy, so Harriet and I are going to go back over there. Have a good show.”

I grab her arm and try to drag her away casually.

“What the fuck are you doing?” She whisper yells to me. We find ourselves on the other side of our van, out of their sight.

“Lee, You have never been one to shy away from new people. Especially men. Remember us, fresh out of high school? You practically had a different man in your bed every night. That whole nervous persona is new. Go seduce a hot stranger!”

“Jesus, Harriet! Lower your goddamn voice! First off its Jack, And yes I know. Different times though. I’m not going to go over there in front of his sister and prepubescent nephew to try and get in his pants.”

“Aw, come on, Lee! It’d be fun! Plus, you need a fucking rebound, girl.”

“Okay, well, talk me into this when its not a family reunion.”

“You got yourself a deal, Rosalie.”

We started to make our way back to the other girls.

“Alright, ladies, let’s go catch our headliner,” I said, opening the van doors. A plume of smoke rolled out of it the moment the doors opened. I grabbed the joint from Ezra, taking a hit before going inside. I handed it back to the faded bass player and headed back inside.

#Jack White #the white stripes #jack white x oc #jack white fic #nosferatyou writes #if i can be so bold #series #meg white #ben blackwell #nashville #detroit #jack white x reader #the raconteurs #the dead weather #masterlist

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alias-b · 4 years

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sins of my youth. 001

Billy Hargrove x OC! Evie Fenny~ Also posted to my AO3

Summary: It was common knowledge that Billy Hargrove hated Hawkins. Hated Cherry Lane. Even loathed the strange girl next door. Evie Fenny wasn’t too fond of the chaotic Cali transfer either. An awful high school tradition sparks a chain of events that changes everything, ultimately bringing two frayed souls together.

A/N: Hey!!! I'm definitely not giving up on LFTM, I've had this story whirling around my brain and it's been pulling at me for a while. Hoping I can slow down, care for myself, and juggle both fics at my own pace. Thank you guys for reading and for being so supportive. I hope everyone who enjoyed WTL also enjoys this fic, it's a totally different direction. I'm excited to share it! I'll tag warning in each chp like I always too. TW: Light bullying, hints at an inappropriate relationship between a teacher/student, and teenage jerks.

Chapter 1: Fast Times

A blaring bell trilled. Lunch time. So close and yet so far. Scrambling high schoolers like zoo animals clamored into the cafeteria. Knocking shoulders and bouncing around. No one really cared about knowledge today, the last day of school before winter break began.

1984. Coming to a close.

“Evie!” A hand rose to wave. One pink scrunchie around the elegant wrist. Heather Holloway. Cute as a button smiling there. Hands pulled headphones down to acknowledge her. Evangeline Fenny. Best friends since the sandbox and now seniors. “This stupid day is dragging.”

“It’s killing me.” Evie whined to herself, settling her beat up lunchbox on the table. Red and blue pattern, scribbled all over with song lyrics in black marker. “Mrs. Stockard fell asleep at her desk, I wanted to die.”

“She snores so loudly.” Heather sparkled when she laughed, sweeping her hair back into a high ponytail with her scrunchie. Evie held a mirror up for her to see out of habit. “Thanks.” It was particularly louder than usual. Teens pregaming the parties to come over the two week vacation.

“Going skiing with the folks this year?”

“No, they’re going up to the cabin and I’m staying home after Christmas.” Heather unpacked her lunch, carefully organizing it. Evie pulled a regular PB and J out, amused.

“Sushi?”

“My mom’s going through a phase.” Heather poured herself a bit of soy sauce and plucked up chopsticks.

“Your rich is showing, Heath.” Evie giggled when a foot kicked at her under the table.

“Trade you a piece for half the pear.”

“Deal.” They switched. Evie tucked some unruly dark curls aside, sitting back.

“So...there is a party tonight. Loch Nora. Bunch of schools.”

“Which ones?” Evie’s brow rose.

“Ridgemont will probably crash, but who cares. It’s winter break, we’ll go and have some fun then crash at my place. Eat chips, make fun of them, and pass out like we always do.” Heather bounced a little. “C’mon, Evie. I’ll pick you up and we can walk from my house.”

“I’ll think about it.” That meant yes to Heather. She grinned, reaching across to pat her friend’s arm playfully.

“It’ll be fun.”

Evie just whined and crunched on her pear, brows scrunching. Parties weren’t the same since the incident. But, she picked the popular, social butterfly for her closest friend.

The two couldn’t have been any more different.

Heather Holloway. Rich girl from Loch Nora befriending Evangeline Fenny, a Cherry Lane girl, in preschool. They switched beaded hair ties and the rest was history. Bonded over music and fashion. Heather was classically stunning as if she jumped off a magazine.

Students used to make snide comments. That Heather kept Evie around because she made her look prettier. Sweet Heather shut that down. Loudly. Whenever the subject came up. Evie Fenny was a bigger girl. Plush. Fat. It wasn’t a dirty word. She was a strange and pretty teen who carried herself too high to be bothered with comments.

Water off a duck’s back was the saying.

Used to be she hid herself under big sweaters, tunics, and flared jeans. But, that was before the incident. Afterward, she came to school with a new haircut. Louder makeup. Even louder, fitted clothing. Flaunted the hourglass and caught eyes on her hips swaying. Sat next to Heather at lunch as if nothing had changed. Red glossed lips only smiled and the student body took to her. Those who stayed angry burned alone.

Thick skin, no pun intended.

“If that asshole Tannen shows up, I’m dipping.” Evie decided with one breath.

“I’d say that I’ll protect you, but you made your point last year.”

Ah, the incident.

“I’m never going to live that down.”

“It was legendary.” Heather beamed, crushing her fist into her opposite palm. “Bam. Prick went down. My friend is Wonder Woman. Super Bitch.”

Evie broke to laugh, eyes rolling.

“Truthfully, I don’t recall it all.”

That was a lie, she remembered every second of it. Sometimes her knuckles warmed at the thought.

“I just...didn’t think you had moves like that. Your mom is basically Dolly Parton. You don’t even like violence. You squirm during horror flicks. You love your cat, your guitar, and all plant life...and you beat the hell out of Ridgemont’s golden boy asshole quarterback.”

It did earn Evie some Hawkins’ fame. Ridgemont was their main rival. The Bulldogs. Football players found a soft spot for the teen.

“Don’t tell my mom she’s Dolly Parton, that’ll go straight to her head.” Evie joked, popping her water bottle open to drink. Heather’s big eyes lifted behind her.

A flood of cologne wafted before two fingers tugged a curl. Little harder than they should have. Water choked to spill onto Evie’s chest.

“Whoops, you got all wet, Fenny.” A tongue clicked. Billy Hargrove slid around the table. All his glory. Heather plucked up a napkin to offer it.

“Watch it, Hargrove.” She huffed down at herself. The yellow tee tucked into her jeans was soaked through.

“Girls can’t help it around me, I guess.” He had one hand in his pockets and another cradling his silver lighter. Flicking it open and closed. Eyes narrowed. “Polka dots, huh. I had you figured for florals.”

“You’re an asshole.” She covered her damp shirt and bra with her striped cardigan. Thick fall colors warmed her skin. Noted the fact that he'd thought about it.

“Whatever you say, Ivy.”

Billy knew her name. They were neighbors. Unfortunately. Right down to sharing the same space between their bedroom windows. She’d had dinner at their house. Susan Hargrove was new and eager to make some friends and Ms. Fenny was eager to be friends with everyone. Perfect match.

Evie glared up at him. Fucking Adonis.

“Heather, you going tonight?” He ignored his neighbor and leaned over with one palm on the table, back to Evie as he sat down to flash that darling smile.

“Maybe.” Heather gestured with her chopsticks.

“I can work with maybe.” He acted like the girl behind him wasn’t there. Frankly, Evie was used to being invisible. It was better than being bullied. Most days. “Maybe I’ll see you there.”

“Maybe you apologize to my friend and say her name right.” Heather winked at him.

“Who?” Billy stood and turned, mocked some surprise. “Oh. Evangeline. So quiet, I forgot you, chica.”

She wasn’t sure if that was a jab at her mixed heritage or him just being a smartass. Billy rolled her name off his tongue like it was a joke. Like it wasn’t a real word. Blue eyes alight at her stony expression. Sly and alert.

The California transfer vibrated after leaving the basketball team before the season ended. Word was that he was persuaded to leave after some fight with Steve Harrington. Billy was a strange one too.

Often, he seemed lax when he was alone like the world didn’t matter. Other days, he was rocking and quick on his feet. Hungry and itching for something. Anything. It was a scary look on such a pretty boy. You could never gauge where his mind was. Where it would go next.

“Evangeline.” He sounded out again even slower. “Your mom lose a bet?”

“It’s a poem.” She replied flatly, sitting back to cock her head at him. Billy snapped his fingers to point.

“Sounds like the name of some chick whose man died in her arms.”

She huffed at him, leaning in.

“...That would be what the poem is about.”

“Fucking depressing.” Billy tapped his chin. “I got it. I’m going to call you, Angel. I won’t forget that.”

“You are not calling me-”

“Trying to compromise with you, Fenny. You cast the first stone.” Billy flicked his eyes to Heather. “Bring your friend with you to the party, Heather. Some guys like angel cake.” He winked and slunk off to his band of merry assholes. This school worshiped him. Kissed the ground he walked on since he started in fall.

“What a fucking slimeball.” Evie grumbled to herself, stuffing trash aside to ball it up. Thought about tossing it at Billy's big head. Heather gave this conflicted look as if to say, but he’s cute, right?

“Ignore him.”

“Bad enough his family moved in next to me.” They packed up their lunches. “God, I want a smoke so bad.”

She didn’t keep the habit up just to save her singing voice. Her mom picked up cigarettes only after the divorce last year. Smoked out her window and hid it, but Evie knew. No judgment there. Better than other habits moms pick up after divorces.

“I’ll pick you up at seven tonight?” Heather walked out with her after the bell rang.

“Yeah, I’ll see you in fifth.” Evie turned to go to her locker and stuffed the lunchbox away. Grabbed a book to hurry to class. History. Three more periods left. Students fidgeted around her.

“Hey, Evie.” Steve Harrington batted his eyes at her. Friendly enough these days after he left the popular cliche and broke up with Nancy Wheeler. Sometimes having your heart stopped on made you nicer. Not always. “You, ah, do the paper?”

“All six pages.” Evie set it on her desk. “You?”

“I made an attempt.” It was strange because Steve never gave her the time of day before this year. Maybe the guy was lonely. He tapped his pencil and the chatter quieted when their teacher walked in. Late as always.

“Class, pass your papers to the front.”

“Hopefully they don’t come back with red wine stains.” Robin mumbled behind her, one leg crossed up so she could draw on the rubber side of her sneakers. Evie caught a snort, taking the papers to pass them along. “I like the jacket.”

“Thanks. New haircut?”

“My own dad didn’t notice.” Robin beamed.

“Psst, Evie.” A note flicked on her desk. Tammy Thompson. Pretty girl, kind of shy. “To Steve.”

Evie considered herself a professional middle man for lovesick note passing. Discreetly, she gave it to Steve, head cocking. He furrowed his brow upon seeing it, but wrote back.

Whatever the reply, it made Tammy’s shoulders fall.

AP Biology was next. Teacher treated it like his kingdom and didn’t pose much of a challenge because he was disorganized as hell. Evie was relieved to share the class with Heather.

Billy, Tommy, and Carol also had it too. Hargrove bitched for a week about how the other science classes had no openings. Strange because he wasn’t an idiot. Still got his work in and maintained a B average. Probably due to his dad. Neil Hargrove seemed like a real hardass. And all of Cherry Lane had heard him and Billy arguing at some point.

Evie might have also witnessed some more physical spats through the windows.

She figured it was why Billy hated her. She knew something about him. Something he hid because it made him feel smaller. He caught her eyes once and barked nastily before taking off in his Camaro. A gust of smoke.

She never brought it up.

Dads could be real assholes.

“Watch the movie. Fill out the worksheet.” Their teacher was as ready for this day to be over as the students were. Lights went down. Yawns followed. Evie propped her elbow up on the high lab table she shared with Heather, doodling new lyrics between answering questions.

A crumpled paper hit her hair. Stuck into brown curls. Heather turned back to glare at Tommy shrugging with a sleazy grin.

He was no artist. Evie smoothed it for a wide, big lipped and breasted caricature of herself. She drew on it and scribbled a note back. Smiling sweeter when she flicked it at his chest. Carol and Billy leaned in on either side to see Tommy’s expression sour because Evie gave him nothing.

“You got my hair all wrong.” She’d written. Fixing it for him.

Billy snorted and turned back to defacing his textbook.

“Bitch.” Tommy muttered to himself, tossing it away. Evie finished her sheet, dug for her compact to reapply a lip color. Caught Billy behind her. Intent on whatever vulgar drawing his mind was concocting. Blue eyes flicked like he’d been aware of her this entire time.

The mirror snapped shut.

** ** **

Study hall. Last period of the day. Most kids who had it were skipping out early during the hour. Slipping away one by one through the library. Evie was one of those kids.

“Leaving so soon, Miss Fenny?” The smooth as silk voice lowered, startled her enough to drop her notebooks and folders.

“Fr...Mr. Bowers.” Evie dropped before her English teacher standing so close to her. Second period. Been in Hawkins three years teaching the junior and senior classes. Fredrick Bowers. Dream of a man to all the teen girls. “Sorry.” She bit her bottom lip, eyes lifting to see him and his shadow blocking the light from touching her.

“No, I’m sorry, Evie. I figured you’d heard me coming.” Sky blue eyes centered on Evie there before he came to one knee. Helped her gather lose papers strewn about.

Mr. Bowers had a name and face all the teen girls drew little hearts around in pink gel pen.

Evie thought she saw those same cartoon hearts bubbling up behind his back. Popping like gum. Styled toffee blond locks, trimmed mustache, and groomed side burns. A simple patterned shirt tucked into fitted slacks with the sleeves rolled up. Never a tie. Something groovy about him that stuck from the seventies. Mid thirties and hell of a smile.

Evie tucked hair aside, displayed her blush in full view obscenely when he flashed those sparkly whites at her. Eyes crinkling.

“I’ll warn you next time.”

Her heart plucked like a song when their fingers brushed. Dashing and broad. A Jane Austen character come to life. Enough to make any young girl melt. And how quickly she did.

“Next time.” Evie gave this scoff. Pulling her notes close as they both came to their feet with hard intent eyes.

"I wanted to give you something. A book to read over the break." He pulled it from his leather messenger bag and peered around.

"An assignment?" Evie sparkled at him so he was lighter.

"No, it's just because I believe you're so clever and mature. I think you'll read it with an open mind and we can talk about it like we talked about all the others. It's complicated material. I, ah, really shouldn't be giving you this book." He offered it. "But, there were quite a few I wasn't allowed to give you. After that chat we had over The Crucible. I'm just so fascinated by what you think."

"Lolita. I know what happens in this one." Evie peered at the battered title. Rough paper between her fingers, it was clearly an old copy. She peered at his chest instead of his eyes. "We-"

"Don't you miss talking? You know. Last year. Someone who knows what you're going through. I want all my students to be comfortable around me."

"I am comfortable, we..." Evie glanced as someone passed far down the hallway.

Bowers helped her after her dad left. A shoulder. A confidant. A crush that... She felt her heart close in on itself.

"I thought you said we couldn't anymore."

"I miss you." He whispered that. Lush and blunt. She barely heard it. Eyes snapped up.

Someone missed her. Someone wanted to listen. Someone who saw her depth.

His wife left him before he came to Hawkins. Evie learned a great deal about her too.

"I won't tell, I never do." She hid it away into her bag, matched his tone. "We can...talk. Not here."

"Good." He swallowed. "I just think you blossom under guidance and support. I always knew you were one of those girls."

Evie blushed again. Eyes on her shoes.

“I wanted to say I was impressed with your paper as well. As always.” Fredrick gave her arm a pat and left his hand there. Fingers pressed into the knit fabric of her cardigan. His lip twitched.

“Good. That’s…I’m glad.” Evie’s eyes flickered over stormy blue ones, swaying. Lashes gave a dreamy bat. “I was thinking, ah, about you when I wrote it.”

“Really, you should speak up in class more.” Fredrick gave her one subtle squeeze and dropped his hand. “All those funny poems you shared last year.”

“My songs.” Evie corrected softer and he only smiled to nod.

“Right.” An idle step backwards before he leaned over her. A great deal taller. The shadow crept over her eyes this time. “You have a Merry Christmas, dear. And speak up again in class, Evie. You know I love to hear from you.”

A sensation like a fizzling sparkler glowed in her belly. Out her spine. Spread over skin.

“I know.” She giggled at him, peering around. “Merry Christmas, Mr. B. We'll talk.”

“Small town, I’m sure I’ll see you out and about.” A wink and he was gliding off. Shoulders back and chest perched high.

“You might.” Evie swooned against her locker. Watched him go. Gasped a breath into her lungs. Swept all the clouds aside to fill her backpack with work. He made her feel so special, like no one ever could.

“Anyone...” She sang to herself, “who knows what love is...” Fingers plucked up a final book. Evie hummed and thought of small cartoon blue birds spinning around her head as she went into the restroom. Washed her hands and lingered to see her reflection.

Evie was in a strange place. In and out of her skin. Torn between love and hate for her body.

Usually, it just took a brave face. Her dad always used to tilt her chin and tell her to put on her bravest face before leaving home.

She hoped the one she chose was convincing.

Her mom would always spin her favorite Bible or Dolly Parton quotes. Which helped on occasion even if she wasn’t sure which source the words came from half the time.

A sigh. This was her flesh. She’d live in it as best she could. Dreamed herself into something better.

Footsteps hurried down the hallway until the door shoved open. Humming cut.

“Hargrove!” She gasped, dropping her messenger bag. “Billy, you can’t be in here!”

“God damn it, Fenny. You again?” Billy skidded to hush her. Pressed them back into the wall. The heat of his body engulfed her frame, standing a good few inches taller. “Do me a fucking solid. Hide this for me.”

Billy had no sense of boundaries because he was stuffing a baggie into her front jean pocket.

“What are you doing?” She seethed at him, smacking his arms off her to put some distance. “Get off me!”

“Don’t say a word. Got it?” Billy lifted a finger with an intent look. Smelled of leather and his heavy cologne. Hairspray too. It all overshadowed the cigarette scent. He smoothed his tee out and turned to see the door. Scrambling like a spider, Billy jumped up on the toilet, threw his messenger bag outside, and pulled himself up. Wiggled his way out.

Evie heard a thud and groan.

“What the fuck?” She whispered, more so to herself as he disappeared. Hands pulled what was clearly concealed weed bundled up several times and bagged from her pocket. “Shit.” More footsteps before the door burst as she shoved it away.

“You see that Hard-grove kid?” A thick accent asked. Security guy. Useless.

“Uh!” Evie pulled her bag up. “Who?...This is the ladies room! Can’t a girl have a moment here?”

“Sorry!” He cringed away before she jumped into mushy period talk. It always worked.

Evie rolled her eyes and marched out to find Billy. Casual as can be, he tossed his bag into the trunk of his car and stilled to light a cigarette. Grumbling, steps hurried up the hill.

“Asshole!” She tossed the weed at his chest, made him catch it awkwardly and stuff it into the trunk with a hiss.

“Keep a lid on it, will you?” He slammed it shut. No one was around to see them.

“Don’t do that shit again.” She pushed into him to go, Billy’s big hand wrapped around her wrist. Tugged her square into his chest. An unkind grin swept.

“I had you figured, didn’t I? You didn’t say anything.” Billy blew smoke into the air, plucked the cigarette out to flick it with his free hand.

“Let go.” Evie huffed. “I would have been in deep shit too for that.” She wiggled and pushed at his chest.

Billy flicked his bright eyes over hers. So brown they looked black in winter. He never noticed that she had a dusting of freckles across her nose and cheeks like he did. Pale for a girl with darker features. Indiana falls and winters must have taken the color right out of her. Looked like a lot of the mixed gals he knew back home.

Big curls. Soft and curvy.

Angry at him over something he did.

There's no place like home, he figured.

“You’re so weak.” Billy laughed at her. Took another drag. “They told me you freaked out on a guy last year.”

“You want to be next?” She twisted away from him and turned. It wasn’t a real threat. He’s seen her tend to plants like they were humans. Feed neighborhood cats and nurse her own. Old black cat with not long left. Little fucker was always creeping him out from her bedroom window. Constantly staring with huge green eyes like it knew something Billy didn’t.

“Babysit your own weed.”

“You walking home?” Billy was relentless, voice lifting.

Evie huffed and turned.

“What, are you going to say I probably need the exercise? My bike chain broke.”

“Christ, I was gonna offer a ride. Figured I owed you for saving my damn weed and my break. Not like it's out of the way.” Billy turned to open the passenger door. “Quit being a drag and get in. I don’t bite hard...unless asked.”

“You’re such a creep.” She eyed him there. Wondered how he stayed warm in a tee, jeans, and leather jacket. “Not waiting for Max?” He gave this annoyed look.

“She’s going out with her stupid friends, not my problem today.” Billy got in, gesturing. “At least close the door if you’re not coming. I went through the effort to open it for you.”

“What a gentleman.” Sarcasm.

Evie came back toward his car and debated it. Smelled like it might rain with the sky turning grey. And she really didn’t want to walk in these shoes. Rationalizing it, she slipped inside and shut the door. Settled her bag in her lap. Even buckled up. Billy revved the engine and skidded to speed out without a second glance.

“You going to the party with Heather?”

Evie peered at him watching the road with this hard look on his face. Ghosted a smile. Bingo.

“You’re being nice to me to get to Heather, huh. You know you’re not the first guy to pull this. Could have just asked me about her.”

Crystalline eyes flared up at her face.

“What? Dorky chicks like you turn me on, too.” He replied rougher, not bothering to watch the road.

“Wow. Spread it on thick, Hargrove.” She turned from him.

“I always do.” He hit a hard corner. Christ, he drives fast. “I got a shot?”

“She thinks you’re cute.” Evie shrugged. Far too used to this. Eyes slid to his profile. Wild curls still golden on grey days. The boy glowed. It was absolutely insufferable. Leaves whirled by, brown and dead. A smile crossed her face. “Listen. Since you’re saving me a walk. I’ll help you.”

“Help me? I don’t need your help, I just wondered if she was gonna show.” He scoffed, turning on Cherry Lane.

“You want to know what Heather likes. It’ll help you.” She crossed her arms, nearly flying forward when he screeched to a stop in front of his house. Billy shot her a look, filled with pride. “You got a pen and paper, bud?”

He snatched her bag, tore a page from her notebook and dug into his glove box for a pen.

Ass. She hugged it back to her chest.

"Talk."

“Okay.” A breath. “The thing about Heather is she’s a romantic. Jane Austin girl. Pride and Prejudice. If you can quote that just once like Mr. Darcy, she’s yours... Well? Are you writing?”

Billy did a double take and huffed, grumbling. He actually marked it down.

“Mr. Who?”

“Your life amazes me.” She chuckled. “Darcy.”

“Got it. Darcy. I’ll ask Susan about that shit, she’s a reader.” He muttered, tongue sweeping out before he scribbled.

“And she loves museums. First date ideas. Milkshakes. Cheese fries with jalapenos. Cheeseburger gal. Chinese from that corner joint. Always spicy. Easy picks.”

“A girl after my own burning heart.” Billy felt her peer at him again. Lips lifting with this expression he couldn’t read. Blinked her big eyes and went on.

“Definitely loves to snuggle in with something scary even though they freak her out. Must be a curiosity thing.”

“Any excuse to get close to someone, I like it. This is gold, Angel, go on.”

“You know, I think that’s all I got for you.” Evie turned to get out, sighing. That was just a little evil. “Billy.”

“What?” He shut his door and turned from her.

“Thanks for the ride.” She moved to go toward her house. “Knock ‘em dead.”

Billy didn’t reply. Just watched her go into her house before he dug for another smoke.

“Mom?” Evie called. “I’m home.”

“I’m in my room, sweetheart!”

Ramona Fenny was a spirited woman, went by Mona to the neighborhood. A girl of the 60s. Built like Dolly Parton with a pumped hairstyle to match in sleek dark brown, almost black. She worshiped the woman. Looked like she could have modeled atop a cake.

A church going girl who used prayer to get her through the divorce. Never pushed it on others, not even Evie. Too busy pushing other things. Like the free days she lost having her daughter young. She liked what worked in life and this worked for her. Liked the pretty side to things.

Mona was a sunny side up sort of mother.

Best friends with Claudia Henderson as they both went through divorces which was not in God’s plan. Evie liked Dustin, she babysat him on occasion and he was a good kid. Bullied like her.

Mona owned the favored hair salon in town. Worked long hours with a team of women and ran a tight ship. Did hair for all the social elites so she knew everyone and all the hot gossip. And did she love that detail the most. Evie helped out with reception during vacation time. Liked the extra cash.

“I was going to go to Heather’s later, there’s a party.”

“Oh, have fun, baby.” She pushed her kid to go out. To live. To be smart. Never asked her to call. Not out of trust for Evie, she couldn’t be bothered. Never imagined her daughter would be up to mischief.

If only she knew.

Sometimes, Mona keyed in when it suited her. Understood when Evie’s likes and dislikes changed. When she asked to not go to church anymore because it didn’t help her after her dad walked out. Ramona was understanding as long as you didn’t bring up things like depression and anger. There always had to be a way out. Turn the other cheek.

Evie knew her mother always thought the best.

“Great.” Evie crossed to steal the hair brush, helped her mother out with the teasing. Dyed rich and dark locks that used to be a mousy brown. Dark eyes like her daughter. Evie didn’t look like her father with his brighter features. Her lush hair and russet eyes. Thick brows. “You going out? All dressed up...”

“Just into town, couple of errands.”

That was something that changed a week after her dad moved out. Mona’s style revamp. She was a woman of the sixties and seventies and that came back full force. Styled and pumped up like she was walking out of a Nancy Sinatra music video. Men around town noticed it and the woman certainly speculated.

But, her daughter had a style change too after the incident so it must have run in the family.

“Better?” Evie eyed the glittery rings sitting in a ceramic dish. They looked like gumballs there.

“Touch of hairspray and I’ll be right as rain.” Pink manicured nails came up with the can. “Take cover, baby.”

“Got it.” Evie disappeared in a waft of spray. Stole an ice cube from the freezer to crunch it out of this habit she picked up when dad was gone. Cool and melty between her fingers before she swallowed it down. Felt the bulge tense all down her throat. Another followed. Teeth straining to crack it like glass. The chunks went down a little less smooth as she looked for real food and shut the fridge instead.

Evie went into the bedroom to see her old cat on the pillow. His head lifted. Skinny and balding. Blind in one eye.

“How’re we doing, my handsome boy?” Evie dropped her bag and crossed to pet him. Purrs erupted, whiskers twitching. “Bourbon, my darling.”

A scratch of a meow rasped.

“Yes, I love you too. I’d kiss you if my lips weren’t done up.” She smacked her lips and stood. “Outfit.” Clothing pushed around. Her room was a small, intimate space. Few pictures and purple curtains. Desks covered in song lyrics, trinkets, and needle felting projects.

Evie held up garments to the cat, but he was no help. Just purred there like a motor boat. Settled on a black top with some sparkle and a magenta wash denim jacket. Jewelry was a must, she preferred earrings that were huge acrylic hearts. Bourbon had gotten into the window to watch the window across the way.

Billy wandering shirtless and damp. Muscles red and bulging like he’d done a quick work out

“Yeah, not today, my sweet.” Evie plucked the cat from the window and reached to close the blinds. Billy caught her. Winked and licked his lips slower. She made a face at him. Utterly loathing and not impressed at his peacock way of navigation. “Ew."

The blinds snapped down, leaving Billy to laugh there. Evie carried her purring cat out, chiding.

"Don’t make his head any bigger than it already is.”

~~~~

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