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lunar-lair · 3 years

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ok say hello to my insanely new oc who ive made entirely to be a villain who is still an excellent adult and a decent parent, probably. cares too much abt kids. think reigen mob psycho with a drop or two of milla. worked under Nick From The Mailroom and was actually in on his scheme.

has always been rather cold and brash towards adults, but is more caring towards kids. in my brain he has a brooklyn type accent? rough and tumble, walks around without a tie, yknow? they keep him cause he sorts mail real good, though.

(added a read more because this got INSANELY LONG AKSKSK i spent like an hr on this h)

he was a delugeionist, but only because he kinda just wanted to rip the world apart a little; lysandre vibes, thinks a lot of it is scum and needs to go. thinks the *psychonauts* are scum and need to go. hes psychic but suppressed it, think aquato parents but extra toxic about it, and straight up just saying being psychic is unnatural. wouldnt go to loboto parent lengths tho. so he adopted that thought of 'being psychic is unnatural and wrong', which contributed to a lot of self hate that was never learned out. likely, he realizes hes a shitty person and thinks he needs to go too. so like...yknow hank, dbh? kinda the vibe im gettin right now. way more formal, of course, and while usually gruff, is more polite when its needed; can and *will* beat the shit out of you verbally in a factual way, though, and can talk more street-lingo if hes talkin to real thugs. (probably winged it on his own after failing college or smth, hes got the vibes.)

anyways, its this plot where he slinks off and starts planting mistrust in the psychonauts or something. and inevitably he just...shows up and starts kidnapping people. dismantling things from the inside and all that. he left and formed a group who also hated psychics at some point, likely friends of his parents and friends of friends, all from his hometown. all of them fight *insanely* dirty, and a lot of them are insanely vulgar. the kids are supposed to be kept away.

but theres a line to follow here.

this man is a fold to raz. hates the psychonauts, hates being psychic, adopted his parent's hate of psychics, hates the *world.* raz is young and unburdened and unjaded...mostly. hes not the shock of water some young characters can be when it comes to being the foils of other characters; think steven with a villain or something, right? but raz is sassy and a little jaded, and not total sunshine positivity.

hes a child this man could look down on and not be immediately annoyed by, who is worried by yet respects raz's realization of the world as it is, however little that is.

and yet raz is still his foil. he still mostly loves the psychonauts, despite it all, he loves being psychic, for the most part, he dodged adopting his parents previous values, he still seems to have an even view of the world as a whole.

raz is jaded, if only a little, but he moved past it and accepted that things could still be bright. this man is jaded, but he stayed in his stormclouds, never looked for the sun.

ok where. was i. RIGHT ok so. at the beginning of this...story? the man finds raz being talked down to by one of the office workers; someone with weak psychic powers whos insanely jealous of his prowess. an adult who envies the young prodigy. and theyre giving him some insane task to do, like cleaning all of the closets within the hour, but hes saved the world twice, so he smiles and nods along, because he said he would help around the motherlobe, and this adult is asking him to do something that seems simple enough.

and this guy, internally, goes 'bitch.' for a good long second bc 1. dude even if you envy a kid, kinda fucked to show that?? not their fault 2. WHY are you asking a 10 year old to do that. why is there a 10 year old here. holy shit thats a 10 year old oh my god hes so tiny (no one told him there was a 10 year old because they knew hed stomp right up to management but. regardless. he is going to stomp up to management after this and no one can really stop him. except maybe raz well see)

so yknow. dude fixes his slight slouch and walks forward and politely tells this woman that 1. hes 10 why are you jealous of him and 2. hes 10????????? and shes like shit hes 10. and apologizes. and walks away

and raz is VERY ?? bc she was doing what? why is him being 10 important? and its that young part of you that gets pissed when people try to keep you from doing things because youre young and hes DEFINITELY yet to learn that piling responsibilites that should be handled by adults onto a child is fucked up in its own special way (looking at you ford, *nick*)

and the dude calmly explains because yea. he gets that. and he still sounds gruff and a little peeved but he squats down to razs height and he talks simply and factually, telling him straight on why it isnt right.

and. huh. people dont really do that for raz. except for sasha, sometimes, everyone likes to dodge the truth a lot with him, because hes 10, and sometimes, hes too nice to tug it out of them.

and this guy, this man that raz is already polishing a trophy for 'good adulting' in the back of his brain with his striking statements about how adults should handle things and kids should-kids should...get to have fun. not be traumatized.

for the shock on his face when raz said hed already saved the world a couple times, whats some closets. he reigned it in, said that its weird he saved the world, because thats usually their jobs.

and this guy offers his hand on instict before he stands up, even though he doesnt seem very sweet and kind like the adults that usually offer raz a hand. and he takes it, i think. he takes it.

warm. warm, a little nice.

reminds raz of his dad, maybe. he wonders if this man has any kids himself, but keeps his mouth shut, because he thinks he already has the answer, and its yes.

(he doesnt have any. he would wish he did, but he knows hed fail to raise them right.)

and when he stands, he asks raz what he was asking that woman for, and he says hes doing tasks around the motherlobe because his papers are still coming in. the man doesnt ask. (he knows what 'papers' means, realizes this is the tiny junior psychonaut every room in the damn place has been buzzing about, and he has fucking words for forsythe.) he just offers for the kid to sort mail under his supervision.

and that sounds boring. at least, it usually would.

this man is interesting, and a good...person? a good adult? hes...hes new. hes new, and calm, and a little like sasha but a lot not, and he thinks he trusts him.

so raz grins and says yea, mail sorting sounds nice.

(debatably, raz does not take his hand. hes too jaded when it comes to adults. debatably, he does not feel any warmth from this man who has taught him every adult has been telling him wrong. debatably, im projecting. but thats the whole point of ocs, hm?)

and then holes crop up in motherlobe systems. people are kidnapped.

raz keeps seeing the strange man, keeps telling him things, keeps hearing back, gruff and factual and a little annoyed, but raz can almost-just-barely tell its not at him, with the way he talks.

he can tell. he can tell.

he can never tell. this man is making sure he can tell.

raz trusts the man, is still polishing that trophy for 'best adulting' he has settling in the back of his mind.

and then the man comes with a militia.

he did not seem jaded. he did not seem hateful. he never showed any anger or hate towards raz.

but thats because he knows kids dont deserve it.

an excellent moral or two. a rotten, broken heart.

and at first, they keep the kids away, because these people fight dirty, because this isnt their battle, because the man has been sending emails about why 15 year olds are in a secret psychic agency.

(he does not mention raz. by razs second visit, he had just marked the boy down as another reason to hate the psychonauts as a whole, and especially its higher ups.

hes also regretting his alliance to nick by about the third. if he had known the man would puppet a child as if they were a toy, he would have organized his own rebellion ages ago.)

but eventually, the psychonauts need all hands on deck.

they send the children to find the missing agents.

the interns are fought on the way. some of them avoid the child, know the boss would pummel them.

they get to the base, and the strange man, the one with the broken trophy for 'best adult' (still barely-polished, because hes still so sure) still nestled in the back of razs brain, is still there.

the junior psychonauts are spotted. one of the guards throws a few rocks aimlessly.

they surprise them. one almost hits raz.

its intercepted instead.

and the other junior psychonauts watch as this man, their enemy, a villain, in their eyes, reprimands the other man for even accidentally daring, for even trying. for doing something they might have done just a month or so ago, if they had decided he was too much weirder than they already had.

and he yells something like, "Why the hell is he even here?! This is an enemy base, of whats a rebellion! This is a *10 year old*! What kind of adult sends a child *near* something like that?!" and he truly sounds angry this time, raz finds. hes too angry to keep it in. he still sounds gruff and oddly proper. raz is standing there, arms hanging. hes baffled in a specific way, the way he was every time the man's brow furrowed when he mentioned a harrowing story, the way he was the first day they met.

and he asks, a little quiet, a little small, a reminder of how young he really is, "Why are you still trying to keep me safe? We're supposed to be enemies now."

And his brow furrows further before flattening out, and he tilts onto one leg, and he swears he almost kneels to a knee.

He cant believe it. He really cant.

"You're 10." he says simply, softly, that factual way. "You shouldn't even be here."

and raz pauses. the interns freeze.

"...well, here I am."

and i think...it would be so intriguing if this was done halfway out of the mind, because this man is so against anything psychic. it would be so *compelling.*

so raz steps forward and asks again, asks why hes doing this.

and the mans eyes harden, he tries to turn off that soft heart, trying to remind himself of all that he hates. because he hates the psychonauts, because he sort of hates the world.

and raz asks why he could ever hate the psychonauts, head tilted, before listing off the few he knows to be true. but other than that, how? and ok, the world sucks a little, yea, hes seen that, gets that.

and he appreciates that this kid isnt totally gung ho about existence.

but he hates that he isnt, too.

and its this back and forth. everything the man hates, why he hates it. raz saying why its good but admitting why its bad.

and hes swayed, just a little.

but the man stands up from the kneel hed inevitably instinctively put himself into, and walks forward, hand held out yet again.

"You shouldn't be in the Psychonauts," he tells him, soft, factual, brow furrowed. "Come with me. I'll bring you back to your parents, or wherever it is you want to go."

raz contemplates. thinks, for a long moment.

he grabs the mans hand, warm and firm, yet again, for a terrifying moment.

before he reaches up to slap a mental door on his forehead, and astral projects into it.

he thinks this man is good. thinks hes just jaded.

thinks hes the best adult hes ever met, one who just happens to hate a lot of things.

hes only 10.

hes not letting someone who can tell him so clearly whats wrong and right for adults to tell him go that easily.

aaaand yknow. raz does his razzy thing. learns about why the guy hates the world and the psychonauts and himself. helps him learn that its not all bad, that he was excellent to raz, and still is, that things can be bad and good all at once.

the man concedes that raz is very capable, very smart, and can do a lot. but that doesnt mean he should have to.

raz tells him, though, that he likes working for the psychonauts. its his dream. and he realizes some things he was told to do were kinda screwed up, now. that maybe, in honesty, he was dealt a bad hand.

but hes done what he can with that hand, and he ended up with a royal flush.

and uh! yknow!! then raz leaves his mind and he calls off the rebellion! its like a rhombus of ruin type adventure, except without the villain being present beforehand. its just not clustered in insanely close with a ton of other wild shit.

anyways this got really long? sorry?? its an oc i just saw good adult and slight father vibe potential in the vibe i instantly got on him and then i went feral???? rip maybe someone will read this and if you did. congrats i honestly really liked how the whole foil and good-yet-bad and consideration of raz being 10 thing worked out. this oc is almost like our representative in the psychonauts world the way reigen is for the audience in mp100. yea :) i match them up a lot but thats just cause they vibe a lot. anyways its 1:40 am now and i spent abt an hour on this hope it vibed mildly byeeee

#GOD THAT GOT LONG. ALSMSKKS APOLOGIES OH MH GOD #psychonauts #psychonauts oc #and my personal tag:#pn oc #trash talks #long post #like! insanely long!!!!!!! i am so so sorry maybe i should make a cut #psychonauts 2 spoilers #like a lot tbh alskssk #OK READMORE SUCCESSFULLY ADDED!!! THNX GOOGLE <3

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wiypt-writes · 4 years

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Riding High

Ch8: Adler vs Adler

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

Chapter Warnings: Bad Language words. Talk of suicide.

Chapter Pairings: Frank Adler x OFC Fliss Gallagher

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

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

Riding High Masterlist // Main Masterlist

Chapter 7

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“It’s harmless fun.” Frank shrugged

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

****

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

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

Frank just about managed to refrain from rolling his eyes.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I don't recall her ever asking.”

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

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

“My husband has season tickets.”

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

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

“And Diane never went to one game?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Fliss and Roberta exchanged a glance.

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

“And how would Diane characterize it?”

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

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

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

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

“And where did they go?”

“Vermont.”

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

“Yes.”

“Because he kidnapped her?”

“Yes”

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

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

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

“No.” Evelyn refuted firmly

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

“Yes.”

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

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

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

“And how did she take it?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yeah, Joanne is covering again.”

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

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

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

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

Frank smiled, before he sighed.

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

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

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

******

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

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

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

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

“I repair boats.” Frank answered clearly

“Oh, really? At which marina?”

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

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

“No.” Frank shook his head

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

“I was a teacher.” Frank replied.

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

“Yes, well, assistant professor.”

“And what'd you teach?”

“Philosophy.”

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

“Yes.” Frank implored

“So Diane had visited Pinellas County before?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Not to my knowledge.”

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

Dumbass question

“Of course.” Frank nodded.

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

Frank scoffed a laugh as Cullen objected.

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

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

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

“She used mine.”

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

“No.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“…and to be happy.”

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

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

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

Shit.

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

“Did she break the boy's nose?”

“Yes.”

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

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

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

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

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

“Yeah.” Frank nodded.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yes.Yes, it is.”

“I have no further questions.” Highsmith spoke.

Frank scratched at his head and left the dock.

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

“Thought you’d gone?” he said gently.

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

“The assault”

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

“At least let me explain.”

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

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

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

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

He smiled again as she took a deep breath.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“No, stay, please.”

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

“What is it Greg.”

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

“What kind of deal?”

Cullen took a breath. “A foster family.”

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

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

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

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

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

“I love this deal.”

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

“Yeah. They do.”

“You think we're gonna lose.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Night.” she replied, watching him leave.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

**** Chapter 9

#riding high #frank adler #frank adler x ofc #frank adler x original female character #gifted #gifted fan fic

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yourtoradorasextendedwarranty · 3 years

Text

It really makes me fucking sick when people lie about me.

Things I've never said:

"women are whores because globalism"

"women only stream for attention"

Any other "women are bad Hur dur" things.

Because that's not shit I would ever say. Why? I was raised by 3 generations of southern women. I never call sex workers whores, I don't call women sluts ever either. And I'm not trying to look like some "TM Nice Guy" either.

Things I could have said in regards to the above statements, "some women stream for attention" which is factually true, but that's not a statement that implies that men don't. Because guess what, some men do. It's a two way street. One I acknowledge.

Also globalism has nothing to do with women and dating pools. I've literally never said it implied as such. Several stats have come out from OkCupid and other places saying that because of the dating pool opening up, specifically due to dating services and social media, people don't settle anymore. Which is true. And it's not just a women thing. It's men and women. And I'm not redressing this because "I got called out". Just because I quote stats that leave men out doesn't mean I don't blame men for their contribution to participating in hookup culture.

And I'm pretty sure I've made a blog post about this too. Dating pools in towns have dried up for years because of online dating and the rise of hookup culture. Asshole women ruin kind men, those men turn into assholes, whom ruin kind women, and the cycle continues. Also since apparently I have to state it listing women first in that cycle does NOT imply they start the cycle. It's always different who starts it. But the result is pretty much the same. And then only reason I've ever actually discussed this, is because the reason marriages fail so often it's because people refuse to settle down with people. Rather they get online, find someone half a country away, and hope for the best. And even in the process of discussing this topic, I'd also mention that when I say settle, I don't mean settle for an asshole, a douchebag, a bitch, someone whom is abusive, or not loyal etc. I'm saying that you can't attempt to find perfect because perfect doesn't exist. Sadly that's the same as saying reach within your means, which is crude to say but it's also not fucking sexist.

Oh, and the only times I've talked implicitly about globalism is to ask why it's viewed as somehow explicitly left, and why it's a dangerous mindset because as a concept it is anti cultural. But 100% I don't degrade women. I will however degrade people when I feel they deserve it. And through this whole fucking fiasco with the server I got banned from and the people lying about me, other than saying that 1 person has anger issues, and several server members have emotional issues (because who doesn't these days), I haven't smeared anyone male or female. Called anyone out by name, out otherwise. But nah, I get hit by a number of people whom have a decent following, whom try to call me out for fake shit. With the exception of hearing only a few times I broke rules even though in some cases I didn't understand how. So rather than leaving well enough alone, I get smeared over Tumblr. Reblogged by those same people, only to be blocked by those same people.

So yeah. Explain to me, why the FUCK would you talk to me if I HAD called women whores for "deciding to date outside their local dating pool". Fun fact. The women in my family taught me to respect those that earn it. I love them greatly because they helped raise me. And my grandmother would have been extremely disappointed with me if I had been the kind of person to talk like that.

And yeah, I might not always get what I'm saying across well, but when confronted with that I try to clarify.

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beautifulterriblequeen · 4 years

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Do you have a headcanon for how Runaan got his torso scars?

I’ve made a Totally Normal number of posts with guesses as to how he got them, anon. Let’s see, I’ve done

he was captured by humans once before

he fought with Amaya and they’re from getting slammed with her shield (ft. Runaan is why Amaya hates Moonshadows the most)

he got them at the same time that Ethari lost his horn tip, by performing some dramatic protective move that saved Ethari’s life

and my latest, which has more weight in my mind because of some Zuko and Runaan parallels I see:

when Runaan’s official bio says that he “has learned to put his mission above all else” it’s because he was harshly punished by his own leader/instructor/mentor for not following Assassin Rules strictly enough

I have a big theory post I’ve been working on that’ll go into the background of that more deeply, along with a crapton of other things, but basically the nugget of this headcanon is this: Runaan was too soft to be an assassin, and someone deliberately shaped him into the hard elf he is now, so he could do his job better. They could probably have killed him. But they didn’t. They molded him instead. And deep down, Runaan didn’t quite learn all the lessons he was “supposed to,” because he’s let Rayla remain soft, and he didn’t actually kill or maim her when she screwed up, even though he could’ve.

How’s this for a mirror: When Runaan separated his bow into swords and told Rayla, “Don’t do this. I will kill you,” that’s exactly what he heard someone say to him once. And that’s why he couldn’t go through with it, even though he knew it was The Way.

The angsty version of my headcanon runs similarly to Zuko getting scarred by his father: Runaan’s mentor doesn’t show any mercy, and though Runaan is also very good with his swords, he’s just a child, a teenager. Susceptible to verbal thrusts as well as sword thrusts. His mentor says something cruel like “You’re no good to anyone soft. If you can’t get your priorities straight, you don’t deserve to serve your people.” And as that sank into Runaan’s very earnest heart, his mentor slashed him hard enough to leave a massive scar, so the boy would never forget.

Maybe they should’ve killed him. Maybe that would’ve been kinder. Maybe his status saved him and offered him a second chance. Or maybe Runaan was just so good at combat that his mentor wanted to break and mold him and use him any way he could.

I’m gonna lay out the rest of my headcanon below, but it gets pretty toxic. It’s kind of like Viren with Soren, but worse.

Runaan’s mentor would show him tender kindness while he was healing, encourage him about his skills and dedication, and keep dropping hints like “You just need a guiding hand, but perhaps, if you’re strong and focused, one day you might inherit this position from me, Runaan.”

And Runaan, hurt on every level there is, living away from home possibly for the first time, just trying to do his duty and be a decent person because that’s how you become a proper Moonshadow of good standing, is made to feel like he has to perform in a very specific and cutthroat set of ways in order to receive validation and acknowledgement. And so, not knowing any better, he does. He breaks himself and reshapes who he is, because he’s told by someone he trusts that it’ll make him acceptable that way.

When Ethari sees the scars for the first time, he’s shocked that Runaan would let someone get that close to him. When they get close enough emotionally for him to ask what happened, Runaan only tells him, “Sometimes harsh lessons leave scars.” It feels somehow shameful to have failed so poorly, and Runaan doesn’t want Ethari to think he’s a bad person. But Ethari can tell something isn’t right. Over the months that pass, he does finally get the full story, and he finds it abhorrent. And he immediately sets to work doing everything he can to show Runaan a softer way to treat himself.

It’s been years and years, and Ethari is still working on Runaan, very gently, around the sharp edges of his hard side. But it’s taking him a long time because Ethari is so soft. Hard lessons can be learned in a single moment. Softer ones need more time to sink in. But Ethari’s never giving up. Not ever.

It’s a testament to Ethari’s determined softness that Rayla couldn’t take Marcos’s life. That’s Ethari’s influence on her. He’s not going to let Rayla get crumpled up the way Runaan was. He wants a better future for her than the one his husband has had to live with. And it’s a testament to Runaan’s soft side that he’s allowed it all these years. He didn’t train Rayla the way he was trained. He told her a thousand times that she was excellent and talented just the way she was, and he never insulted or demeaned her. That’s partly his natural, factual approach, and partly a determined choice not to be like his own teacher.

Because his mentor was wrong when he said that Runaan would never be good to anyone when he’s soft. Runaan is good to his family when he’s soft. He may serve all of his people, but Runaan loves them most of all.

#asks #runaan #tdp #tdp headcanons #runaan headacanons #tdp angst #angst #oh look it's my Thing with toxic authority figures #ethari #rayla

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chris-evans-indian-fanfic · 4 years

Text

21st Century Vampire

One-Shot

Description: Marvel AU where Steve is a vampire who works at a blood donation centre.

Warning: Just mentions of blood, nothing gore.

This one-shot is my entry for @caplanbuckybarnes writing challenge! There are some hilarious prompts on the list! Check it out now!

My Main Masterlist

I don’t consent to have any of my work published or featured on any third party app, website or translated. If you are seeing this fanfiction anywhere but Tumblr, it has been reposted without my permission. In that case, please do share the link and let me know.

…

Steve Rogers was probably the world's worst vampire. Even after being alive for more than a century now, he was broke. And where did he manage to find work? At a blood donation centre! Disgusting! He was lucky there were very few vampires in LA, or his reputation would have been shredded to bits. A vampire working at a blood donation centre? Humiliating! Dishonorable!

Steve hated working there. The stench of human blood was nauseating, the human beings more so. But unfortunately, the pay was decent and his colleagues were understanding. Nobody questioned his extremely pale skin, or found it weird that Steve never stepped out when the sun was still in the sky. Everybody quietly accepted that he was allergic to garlic without posing any further inquiries.

Working as a receptionist, he led quite a dull life work-wise. There wasn't really much for him to do except ask people to fill forms and sometimes calm down nervous first-time donors. He was generally patient with the humans, always biting back his wincing words, or trying his best to be as sympathetic as possible. Hey, after spending almost a 100 years on the planet, he could try to be a little more patient and a little less condescending.

But his calm and collected facade came crashing down the day you walked into the centre.

Flaunting a latest (and factually incorrect) vampire-teenager-love novel in your hand, you headed towards him and flashed a nervous smile. "Hi, do you guys take blood?"

Steve commended himself on the amount of self control it took not to roll his eyes. "You can donate blood here miss, if that's what you are talking about."

"Yes yes that's what I meant. I want to give blood. Where do I go?" you glanced towards the door beside the reception area.

"Kindly fill this form first ma'am," Steve pushed a familiar document towards you.

You filled it up pretty fast, leaving the space for your blood group blank. "I don't know what my blood group is. Is that okay?"

Calm down Steve, you can do this. "No ma'am that is not okay. When was the last time you took a blood test?"

You only bit your lower lip in response.

"We will have to get a blood report done first, then you can donate ma'am," Steve explained irritably.

You nodded, "Ummm yeah, sure, absolutely. It's not like I am scared of needles or blood or anything. I read vampire fics for a reason, people!" you told a semi-empty waiting room.

Steve squinted his eyes at you, "Are you scared, miss?"

You paused for a bit, then pointed at your book, "Yeah… But you know if I can handle the blood sucking scene in the book, I can surely handle a machine sucking my blood, right?" you tried laughing but only a dry sound escaped your throat.

Steve couldn't take it anymore. He hated novels that portrayed vampires as just human blood sucking creatures. He rolled his eyes at her, "That book is the worst kind of literature you can read. It is full of false information. Do yourself a favour and throw it in the bin."

A frown creased your forehead as you let his spiteful words sink in, "Who cares? It is still a great novel! And all the places that the author has mentioned exist in real life! So I don't know what you are talking about."

"Really? Just the real places are important to you? What about all the incorrect facts about vampires?" Steve replied hotly.

"What about it? The author has portrayed vampires in a completely different light!" you exclaimed.

Steve laughed an empty laugh, "Oohhh no! Vampires are NOT featured differently in that novel or in any other works throughout the world! They do not crave human blood. Infact, vampires hate human blood and everything to do with humans!"

"Oh yeah? And how do you know so much about vampires?"

On any other day, Steve would have backed down, claimed himself as a vampire enthusiast and accepted his defeat, but not today. Not on the full moon night he knew would turn Bucky into a tamed werewolf. He knew by the time he would reach home, Bucky would have eaten his carpets, bumped his head against himself in the mirror, ripped his stuffed toys and then cried over them. Today he had to deal with an emotional Bucky for the entire night.

Then there was you. So stubborn to accept the truth that you were willing to argue with a complete stranger about your cursed book.

The sheer stench of human blood added to the horrible cocktail of things that flipped off Steve.

Today would be the day Steve would lose his patience.

"BECAUSE I AM A VAMPIRE!" he screamed at the room.

His announcement was followed by pin-drop silence.

Unable to bear it anymore, he started his rant, "Do you think we vampires hunt humans? Of course not! There are so many of you guys in the world that it never was, is not and will never be considered as a sport! And no, our skin doesn't sparkle in the sunlight like freaking diamonds! Our sensitive skin gets burnt in the sunlight!"

His thin chest heaved as he struggled to maintain his breath, "No garlic and silver can kill us! We are all allergic to garlic. And silver gives us rashes on our skin. But do you know what is the worst part of being a vampire? The immortality! I am a 100-years-old vampire who is still somehow broke! And where did I finally manage to find work? At a freaking disgusting blood donation centre!"

You had moved away from his desk, afraid of his sudden outburst.

The door next to the reception area opened as a tall, dark man poked his head out. "Is everything okay out here?" Dr Sam Wilson asked, taking in the scene before him.

Steve was still panting as the others in the waiting room just looked at him in shock. A few had their phones out and seemed to be recording something.

"Dr. Wilson," somebody asked, "Is it true what this man said? Is he really a vampire?"

Sam looked at Steve, lines of exasperation evident on his face, "Ma'am, vampires, witches, wizards, werewolves etc do not exist in the real world."

He turned to Steve, "Steve, what's going on?"

"He just told us all that he was a vampire," you said, "Went on quite a detailed rant about it."

"Steve," Sam managed to say in a bitter tone.

"Why have you hired such wackos doc?" a man asked from the crowd.

"I am not a wacko!" Steve retaliated, "I am a vampire!"

"Then turn into a bat now!" the same guy challenged him.

"Huh! Vampires can't turn into bats. Some vampires liked to have bats as pets earlier," Steve defended his point.

"Steve, pack your things. You are fired," said a grim Sam.

"But I really am…"

"Steve, I have tolerated your outbursts in the past. I am not going to forgive you again. This is an highly unprofessional and unacceptable behaviour. You are fired effective immediately," Sam stood his ground.

Steve scoffed. So much for telling the truth.

He gathered his things and left, mad at himself, mad at the world, mad at Dr Erskine for turning him into a vampire just so that he could join the army.

Lost in his thoughts, he didn't notice as you caught up with him. "Hey," you softly said to get his attention.

Steve jumped. You quietly chuckled at his reaction. "Aren't vampires supposed to be aware of their surroundings?"

He threw you a disgusted look and kept on walking.

"Hey wait!" you called out after him. "Are you really a vampire?"

He looked at you at that moment. The sincerity in your eyes softened his. "Yeah," he muttered.

"Can you keep a secret?" you whispered.

Steve leaned in closer to you. "I am a witch."

He looked upwards, rolled his eyes and started walking again.

"Wait! Don't you believe me?"

"No I don't! And I really enjoyed the joke. So thank you!" he shouted back.

You saw his dark silhouette become a small dot on the horizon as a plan formed in your head. A vampire was maybe just the missing piece of the puzzle. You already had a speedster, a magician who practised the dark arts, a man with superhuman strength, another who could spin spider webs through his hands and lastly, a man who could fly.

You smiled at yourself. An army of some of the strongest men on Earth was just what you needed to start a revolution. An army of men, led by you, the Scarlet Witch.

Permanent tag: @donutloverxo

Taglists open!

#cappysforeverchallenge #Steve!vampire #Steve Rogers #steve rogers x you #steve rogers x y/n #steve rogers angst #Steve Rogers x Vampire au #avengers au #Steve Rogers x vampire

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internetaddict104 · 3 years

Text

check in tag 👍

my fave @heterophobiclarry tagged me!

why did you choose your url?

Because I have too many fandoms to pick a specific url and I’m very indecisive so I couldn’t settle

any side blog?

Technically this is my side blog but I have more personal freedom on here so I use this one more often

most popular post?

A link to the iconic Danny Pudi “Larry I’m on Ducktales” moment I posted when Larry died

number of mutuals?

10, including my other blog

how many people do you follow?

324

how many followers do you have?

152

how long have you been on tumblr?

Since 2012/2013 (original/first blog) (I started this one in October 2020)

why did you start using tumblr?

5sos were doing a giveaway contest of some kind and you needed a tumblr to enter so I asked my mom if I could enter the contest and she said yes

do you have a queue tag?

Nope

why did you choose your icon? and your header?

I chose my icon because I needed something different and it kinda goes with my header color-wise. I chose my header because I had just watched the Given movie and that frame is fucking hilarious

have you ever made a shitpost?

I don’t think so

how do you feel about “you need to reblog this” posts?

Some of them I reblog because they’re decent, but most I skip past

do you have a crush on a mutual?

Nah

which of your mutuals do you think is tumblr famous?

Idk I’m mutual with a decently popular Merlin blog, a big JATP blog, and idk how much this counts because the fandom’s kinda dead but I’m also mutuals with a House of Anubis blog that seems pretty popular

have you had a fight/ argument with another blog? who won?

Idk if this was a fight but I unintentionally started some WestAllen discourse (I think it’s nasty bc they’re siblings) and a pro-WA blog started shitting on me that I was wrong and wouldn’t acknowledge the factual images I posted to disprove their thinking. Idk who won bc my notifications stopped working so I didn’t see that they replied to me and by the time I did it was like 2 days later and I felt weird starting it up again

do you like ask games?

Yes even though no one ever asks me anything

do you like tag games?

Yes even though I’m rarely tagged in anything (and when I am I take so fucking long to do it lol)

how much time a day do you spend here?

Depends on my day. Sometimes I’m on here all day, sometimes I only reblog like 3 posts

Tags- @lovelyamneris @random-nerd-3

#ant blogs #tag game #tag me in shit please i love it #these are fun

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what-is-your-plan-today · 4 years

Text

Riding High Ch 8- Adler Vs Adler

Chapter Summary: The gloves are off in court as mother and son go head to head.

Chapter Warnings: Bad Language words. Talk of suicide.

Chapter Pairings: Frank Adler x OFC Fliss Gallagher

This chapter is a mix of Fliss and Frank’s POV…hope you all enjoy it. As always I’m a ho for a REBLOG and COMMENT!

Series Masterlist Main Masterlist

Chapter Song: Stand By You- Rachel Platten

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

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

This took them just under an hour, as they were factual reports. Both Attorneys requested clarification points but there were no questions or cross examinations. As such they had concluded just after 11 am and there was then a small 10 minute break to allow a quick consultation between clients and lawyers before Evelyn was to take to the stand. As people moved around, passing papers and files to one another, Frank turned in his seat and just as he glanced round, someone left the courtroom and through the open door Fliss walked in, dressed in a smart pair of black jeans and a light blue strappy top. He flashed her a smile and she gave a small wave, settling onto a seat next to Roberta who gave her a hug. She’d missed the early session due to having to sort the horses out but she’d cleared her diary and brought in cover for the rest of the day.

Frank turned back to Greg who was watching him, eyebrow raised.

“Well that was a mighty big smile Frank…”

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

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

Greg nodded “I look forward to it. Anyway, back to business, that opening report from the Welfare Department was good, well as good as it’s gonna get. But man, Ultimate Fighting?”

“It’s harmless…” Frank shrugged

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

From the gallery Fliss watched intently. She’d been late due to having to open up at the yard but had rushed home, changed and got here as soon as she could. As such she had missed the first session but Roberta had hastily filled her in, telling her it had gone well. She shot Frank another encouraging smile, just as the judge called them back to order, and couldn’t help but notice how good that man looked in his grey suit, light grey shirt and maroon and white speckled tie. He certainly looked the part.

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

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

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

“Hey…” Fliss said, giving him a gentle hug. “How you holding up?”

“About as well as I can for someone whose own other just tore them to shreds under oath.” Fliss’ eyes narrowed “I hope your guy is gonna give as good as she did…” “I’ll do my best.” A voice said. Fliss spun round to be greeted by Frank’s attorney.

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

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

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

They ate together, made small talk, before Greg requested Frank join him alone for 15 minutes to go over the rest of the afternoon. Frank stood, and without even thinking about it gave Fliss a quick peck on the cheek. He winced as soon as he had, noticing that Cullen and Roberta were watching him and knowing Fliss was going to get an absolute drilling from Roberta he shot her an apologetic look as he walked away. She simply smiled through her blush and shook her head, turning to Roberta who nudged her arm.

“Ok, so…what was that?” Greg asked as they walked back over the road.

“It’s complicate.” Frank sighed “we both…we like each other but with everything that’s going on we’re…well I suppose we’re taking it slow. I’m focussing on getting through whatever it is that happens with Mary and then hopefully…what?” he trailed off as Greg was smirking at him.

“Frank Adler. Finally found a girl he likes that much he ain’t simply trying to get her into bed…”

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

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

****

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

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

Frank just about managed to refrain from rolling his eyes.

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

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

“Withdrawn.” Cullen said, his voice taking on an amused edge but as Fliss watched Evelyn simply eyed him, completely un-phased.

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

“You know baseball.” Cullen said, pushing his chair back “Fenway Park.”

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

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

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

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

“I don’t recall her ever asking.”

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

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

“My husband has season tickets.”

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

“30 years. But I’ve only been married to him for 20.” Evelyn informed him.

“And Diane never went to one game?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Mrs. Adler, he said, looking back at her who’s Paul Riva?”

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

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

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

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

Fliss and Roberta exchanged a glance.

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

“And how would Diane characterize it?”

“Diane was 17 years old at the time. She didn’t know anything about love.”

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

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

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

“And where did they go?”

“Vermont.”

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

“Yes.”

“Because he kidnapped her?”

“Yes”

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

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

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

“No” Evelyn said firmly

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

“Yes.”

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

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

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

“And how did she take it?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Fliss watched Frank who shifted, rubbing his chin with his left hand, his fingers curling round his jaw in an L shape as he stared at this mother.

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

“Hey…” he felt someone squeeze his hand at the same time Mary held up a shell and showed it to him. He took a deep breath and tried to rearrange his face into a smile as his fingers tightened around Fliss’s.

“You know until I met you I thought sitting on steps drinking beer was something only red necked hillbillies did.” Fliss teased him when they were alone later that evening, Mary asleep inside the apartment as they sat outside the kitchen door, shoulder to shoulder along the top rung.

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

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

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

“You know back in 2015, about 18 months after we’d gotten married…I almost did it you know? Killed myself.”

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

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

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

“Frank, you were what? 20 and preparing for finals at Harvard.” Fliss frowned “Diane wasn’t your responsibility, you’re not her parent.”

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

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

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

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

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

“Yeah, Joanne is covering again.”

“I don’t want to put you out…” he began but she shook her head.

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

“Well, from a selfish reason I’m glad.” he said, flexing his fingers against hers, looking down at where they were entwined.

“I’m not missing your testimony, if only for the sole reason of discovering what your full name is.” she teased. Frank gave a huff of a laugh “Francis Preston Adler, nice to meet you.” he tipped his bottle in her direction. “Preston?” She snorted “Get out of town! There’s a place in England called Preston, it’s like 30 miles away from my home!”

Frank smiled, before he sighed.

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

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

“Well then, I suggest you get some sleep, or as much as you can.” she said, and with that she released his hand and stood up. Frank did the same and he smiled as she leaned up and he ducked his head so she could kiss his cheek. “Oh, and FYI I got an absolute interrogation off Roberta before when you did that. Felt like it was me in the dock, not Evelyn.” For the first time all evening Frank laughed.

******

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

He sat in the dock dressed in his suit this time paired with a light green shirt and a dark blue and silver tie, feeling as out of place as anyone could. Cullen went through the questions he had coached Frank on, questions designed not to paint him as a saint but as a normal person, doing the best he could for his niece in line with his sister’s wishes. Frank answered them honestly. Was he perfect? No. Had he done things correctly? No. Did he wish he had spotted Diane was struggling? Yes. Did he love Mary and want the best for her? Yes.

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

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

“I repair boats.” Frank answered clearly

“Oh, really? At which marina?”

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

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

“No.” Frank shook his head

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

“I was a teacher.” Frank replied.

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

“Yes, well, assistant professor.”

“And what’d you teach?”

“Philosophy.” Frank said, looking at him

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

“Yes.” Frank implored

“So Diane had visited Pinellas County before?”

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

“She indicated she wanted her daughter rooted and moved here?

Frank shook his head, closing his eyes “No”

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

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

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

“Not to my knowledge.”

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

Dumbass question

“Of course.” Frank nodded.

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

Frank scoffed a laugh as Cullen objected.

The questions continued. He was asked why he turned down the scholarship at the Oaks in favour of learning at a first grade level, a level way below that she was capable of. The rain continued to drive down as did Highsmith’s questions, as they were punctuated every so often by a low rumble of thunder from the outside storm.

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

“She used mine.”

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

“No.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You’ve uprooted that little girl and brought her here for 1 reason only. To do harm to your mother. You blamed her for your sister.”

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

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

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

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

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

“…and to be happy.”

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

“Mary’s not an angry kid.” Frank said, his voice calm once more.

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

Shit.

“A 12 year old tripped a 7 year old and she came to his defense.” Frank said, shrugging slightly

“Did she break the boy’s nose?”

“Yes.” Frank said, a little louder as he nodded.

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

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

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

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

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

“Yeah.” Frank nodded.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yes.Yes, it is.”

“I have no further questions.” Highsmith spoke.

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

“Thought you’d gone?” he said gently.

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

“The assault”

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

“At least let me explain.” he shrugged.

“There’s really no need…we all do dumb shit right?”

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

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

He smiled again as she took a deep breath.

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

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

“How about I keep you company?” she asked, “Only if that’s ok?”

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

**** Turns out Fliss wasn’t the distraction, Cullen was. He rocked up at the garage Frank was working at just as he was explaining to Fliss the different components of the oil filter he was working on, nudging her as she gave a loud, exaggerated yawn. She grinned at him, and he didn’t miss the flash in her eyes as she looked him quickly up and down, taking in his dirty jeans, hands covered in oil and his long sleeved thin blue sweater which he knew fit him pretty well. Part of the reason he had worn it.

“Hey…” Cullen said.

“Hey.” Frank frowned “What’s…” “I wanted to do this in person.” Greg said.

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

“No, stay, please…” he said. She looked at him for a second and nodded.

Cullen explained how Highsmith had called him first thing that morning saying that they wanted to cut a deal which would see Mary in a fostering situation. Frank dismissed the notion straight up and Cullen continued to try and win him round, informing him that they could cherry pick and that it would be mutually approved and he’d already found a family in Tampa, which was what he had been working on all day. He continued to explain how Mary would attend the Oaks and Evelyn would get visiting rights and that when Mary was 12 she could go back into court and decide where, and with who, she wanted to live.

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

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

“You like this deal?” he asked

“I love this deal.” Greg noded.

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

“Yeah. They do.”

“You think we’re gonna lose.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Night…” she said to him, watching him leave.

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

“Sorry…” he said after a moment pulling back.

“Hey…” she said, ducking slightly, her hands now on his face as she wiped his tears with her thumbs, her own now filling her eyes. “Don’t ever apologise to me for being upset, Frankie. I told you, I was here for the road trip remember? However bumpy the ride. I’m not going anywhere Sailor.”

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

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

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

“Frank…”she said gently “I can’t answer that.” “What would you do?”

“I honestly don’t know.” she shook her head. “I suppose there’s no harm in meeting them but, you have to be sure this is what is right for Mary. But I do know one thing, whatever you decide to do, I’ll be there all the way.”

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

@the-omni-princess @momobaby227 @geekofmanythings16 @angelofhell-666 @thewackywriter @marvelfansworld @cobalt-gear @asgardlover75 @jennmurawski13 @jtargaryen18 @saiyanprincessswanie @navispalace @patzammit @joannaliceevans-fanficblog @djeniiscorner @ayamenimthiriel @coldmuffinbanditshoe @disneylovingal @madzmilllz @sgtjaamesbaarnes @sweater-daddiesdumbdork @southerngracela @goldenfightergir @kellymat @official-and-unstable-satan @icanfeelastormbrewing @pagesoflauren

#frank adler x ofc #frank adler #gifted #gifted fan fic

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and-the-world-is-quiet-here · 4 years

Text

Live 2020 debate commentary from a salty, disabled, and VERY pissed gen Z

Yall he just said he’s immune

My dad just left the room

Bitch are u saying Johnson and Johnson is going to make the vaccine?

sir that’s the diaper company…..smh

Biden just said its going to be a dark winter

#winter is coming

“virus.....that came from china” -trump 2020

“were learning to live with it”-trump 2020

apparently “Biden lives in his basement”-your president 2020

totally accurate.....obviously

ohhhh biden just said were learning to die with it

trump interrupted biden

Mam I thought you said you were muting them?

biden laugh count at 3

he all about the once percent till its the dead ones

trump interrupting at 3...nvm its now 4

this debate is making my dog sad

interrupting now at 5 for trump

trump saying his young sons illness just “went away”

bitch he’s may age and no it did not just “go away”

he was in quarantine for two weeks

apparently nyc is a ghost town

its not a ghost town trump I live right next to it

loudest neighbors ever

trump don’t call him Anthony

his name is DOCTOR Fauci

treat him with the respect he deserves

Biden looks so sad

nvm he legit looks like the joker right now

HALFWAY MARKKK

why is this at 9?

sir its a school night

I need time to scroll through my feed for hours before collapsing

Biden don’t use the word sovereignty

trump doesn't know what it means

thats discrimination against trumps

ohhh hes attacking hunter (biden) again

so he has a wee drug problem?

at this point everyone got one!

your the one making lewd comments about your infant daughter on national tv

(look it up he talks about his 6 month old daughters legs but and breasts)

get him big b!!

h876689908776- my dog 2020

he wants to express his disappointment

the light boxs is stealing his mother attention

ohh hes being rude to the moderator again

u a strong independent Indian woman get him girll!

mute his mike

prty plz

I am dissapionted in you

he’s saying he’s not allowed to release his taxs

(that is a proven lie)

“i was put through a phony witch hunt”- you'll never guess 2020

hes going after his BROTHER now

how is this allowed?

who decided trumps strategy would be to accuse his opponent of his own crimes?

look at the insults guys its a crystal ball

stay ahead of the scandal's

WILL YOU LEAVE HIS SON ALONE PLEASE

THESE ARE HIS CHILDREN LEAVE THEM ALONE

“i was a business man doing business”-trump 2020

no sir you were another rich white guy taking advantage of tax brakes and cheap foreign labor in asia

#american jobs as long as i don’t have to pay minimum wage

#you know like a DECENT FUCKING PERSON

Trump interrupted again

I lost count a while ago

Biden is staring into my soul

oh Biden just played the middle class childhood card

I haven't heard a single mute so far?

trump just said his bromance with kim jung un saved america from nuclear war

dont through my boy Obama under the bus

and another interruption

my big bro just screamed “MUTE BUTTON MUTE BUTTON MUTE BUTTON”

honestly same

10 more min guys

hang in there

OHHH trump just got MUTEDDDDDD

Biden is now on legitimate policy

ahhh hes proud of his plan

annd trump just interrupted

trump just kissed up to the moderator

trump just said biden’s more liberal than bernie

ohhh

biden just said trump dosent know who hes running against

hes like “this is joe biden”

like I know bro but slick burn anyway

ohhh they muted trump again!!!!

perfect opportunity to mute missed

trump just blamed healthcare issues on nancy peloski

biden says the the republicans wont pass it

(btw hes actualy right)

2 mins left

and trump is speaking through it

1 min left

omg what a waste of air

I really want him to test his “immunity”

preferably during a harsh winter

ITS TEN GUYSSS

there running over

they still haven't covered immigration

shit

I have just learned there is 30 min left

I think I would rather kill myself than watch the rest of this

I’m seriously have a sensory overload right now

I’m doing this for u

“children are brought here by coyotes”-presedentail cown 2020

what a wack ass sentence

hes like ohIi haven't been putting kids in cages

and then just went but I didn't build them they were built in 2014

(contradiction much)

“who built the cages”

yes it was Obama but guess what

THEY WERNT BUILT FOR KIDS

there ment to house animals, evidence, and adult prisoners in emergency situations

THEY WERNT MENT FOR 3 YEAR OLDS

Biden was just like “well no actually kids come with PARENTS”

(kids hardly ever come over with out parents)

and then he was like and also WHO LOST TRACK OF OVER 1,000 PARENTS

(thats 500+ new orphans at the least)

hes saying only the illegal immigrants with the lowest IQs come back after being deported

we said the same thing in december about you but ya’know

my mum was like “anyone eating chocolate” and I was like “im snaking on this ignorance” and she was like “dont do that you'll get indigestion”

“no one has done more for the black community then Donald trump except for maybe Abraham Lincoln”

oh yeah Biden just brought up how trump publicly campaigned for the execution of the central park 5

WHO WERE CHILDREN

AND OH YEAH THEY WERE COMPLETELY INNOCENT

trump just yelled at Biden, got muted, and just yelled louder

trump just said he cant see the audience but hes the least racist person in the room

“Abraham lincoln here is one of the most racist presidents in american history”- biden 2020

biden just went “oh god”

he just said that he used to not support the blm movement because they chanted rude things about police officers

I would like to reiterate that “pigs in a blanket” has never been chanted in a protest or been a prominent statement in the blm movement nor “fry em like bacon” so what trump is saying is factually incorrect

unless hes on some sort of far right conservative twitter feed were he came across a video of some drunk white college kids chanting it

but you know what ever fits you narrative

plus I would be pretty pissed if I kept getting shot at for no reason so....

Biden making more logical decisions

trump was like why have you never done all this stuff when you were vice president

“we had a republican congress” -biden 2020

we have the cleanest air

we have the cleanest crystal clear water

sir, i know you've been to mexico

don’t lie

the waters gorges down there

and not owned by your smug ass

trump just called china filthy

so you know....

*whispers* racism

ok 5 min left

for real this time

trump just went “aoc plus 3: and then hes like she knows nothing about the climate

ummm.... you dont even believe in climate change

bidens like “are....is...is is”

good for you

correcting your grammar

trump just said “the wind kills all the birds” out of the godamn blue

(he means wind mills and its untrue)

“Whats the next question baba”

“the final question is leadership which he doesnt have”- baba 2020

I feel bad for anybody watching this on the toilet

bidens starring into your soul

he knows what your doing

there officially overtime

its 10 33

they haven't even done the last section yet

btw ITS A SCHOOL NIGHT

why do they host these so late

I should be pretending to be asleep right now

this is generational discrimination

plus trumps supporters are so old there asleep by now

ohhhh its over

1036 final time

okay so thoughts....I generally dont like the party system i think its ridiculous the system was not designed for it, and its now more about loyalty then the actual candidates. I also am really hesitant to put another strait white male in the oval office, especially one thats from “the lucky few” I.E. the smallest voting generation in the country and also the one that already holds the most positions. That being said, at this point its really anyone but trump and I think bidens got the experience to turn things around.

I AM IN SCHOOL I CANNOT VOTE. I am relying on all my older friends, followers, neighbors, and community members. To make an educated decision that wont further degrade the once hopeful future my generation awaits. Please if you can vote VOTE the kids are relying on you!

P.S. sorry i wasn't able to edit this earlier i struggle alot with spelling and didnt have the time to edit this because I HAD TO GO TO BED AND THEN GO TO SCHOOL. Why am I more politically active then people twice my age you might ask? Well, thats because adults are lazy and need to get of their gd asses and VOTE. So kids dont have to do the legwork for them.

I have said my peace now, have a wonderful day!

#2020 #election #covid #trump #biden #debate #byedon #flyden 2020

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soyouareandrewdobson · 4 years

Text

The first comic: Maturity or rather the lack thereoff.

Something I commonly saw within the last decade was people arguing that animation has reached a new peak by the amount of quality in storywriting put into them and some even claiming cartoons have become more mature, particularly compared to shows of the 80s and 90s. Dobson too joined the trend and as such made this little comic in 2015 titled “Mature”, in which he argues that cartoons for children are more mature and handle serious subjects better than any media tagged with an r-rating or not following the format of animation.

While I admit that the comic is not the most offensive and insulting thing Dobson has ever created when soapboxing about nerd/american culture, I do think “Mature” actually in composes quite a good insight in how Dobson does not understand concepts of storytelling and overhypes the achievements and merits of children entertainment to a degree that is hurting the “cause”. Which greatly annoys me as a fan of storytelling and animation in general and paints Dobson as incompetent in the field of work (cartoonist, comic writer/artist) he tries to engage in. And I can bring this lack of understanding by Dobson down by just one simple question:

What exactly counts as a mature subject here?

Dobson randomly accuses any form of fiction that is not a children’s cartoon or comic to have no idea how to approach a “mature” subject, but he can’t even give an example of what he defines by this term.

See, for me a mature subject is e.g. an social, emotional or political issue we as humans can correlate to in the real world. Either as a result of personal experience or a bigger picture in our history and culture (such as racism, poverty, existential dreed, personal/emotional growth, any form of oppression etc.) Something that does not only drive a story forward as a source of conflict or a character’s backstory/arc for the sake of entertainment, but may even make us think afterwards.

And as much as I like cartoons, I do not think this is something children cartoons do most of the time.

And before I get accused of thinking cartoons are only something for kids or that a thoughtful story can not be told via the medium of animation, let me put a few things into perspective.

Unlike Dobson, I do not have an educational background in animation. However, I grew up with a lot of cartoons, animated movies and comics from all over the world and thanks to the wonders of the internet read up here and there on the different ages of animation and certain tidbits in what went into the making of certain works of fiction and why they may have been a huge thing in the time periods they emerged in.

As such I know that the medium of animation can be used to not only create “child appropriate” content, but also movies like Barefoot Gen, Fritz the Cat, Felidae, Animal Farm and so on, which tackled themes of social issues, political worldviews and personal/historical tragedies.

Then there is the fact, that depending on the culture, there are very different interpretations in what can be considered “child appropriate” in certain parts of the world and therefore what themes a cartoon may tackle. Like how in European children cartoons such as Alfred J. Quack there was a story arc resembling the rise of Adolf Hitler in power, to tell about the heroes of the show working in the underground against an obvious fascist regime. Or how in certain Japanese children shows the subject of death can be rather common, while in American cartoons just mentioning the word “die” seems a red flag to some studio executives. Lastly, a lot of early animation, (particularly western animation) did not even start off as something targeted primarily at children. Animation started off as a technique to tell a story through “moving pictures” and some of the first animated shorts ever had a huge fanbase of adults and children. “Snow White”, Disney’s first animated movie back in 1933 was a technical marvel at the time. A movie we nowadays mostly consider a children’s movie with a slightly dull story compared to other Disney outings, was back then a risk that earned Disney multiple Oscars and was appreciated more by adults than it was by children, despite being based on a fairy tale. A type of story mostly considered “appropriate” for kids.

What I am trying to say is, that I am aware of how not all children cartoons are the same and can vary in terms of “maturity”. Something I think Dobson can’t, because he also can’t see that there is a huge variety of “children” cartoons.

Despite his background and claims to consider animation an art, Dobson has shown a huge lack of knowledge or admiration for shows/movies that do not fit into the specific mold of “western animation primarily targeted for children and airing on american television”.

And that is not a claim I make half-heartedly. I have done research on the guy, I know how he likes to brag when he considers he found a great cartoon or something interesting. So I find it telling that aside of nostalgia for certain 80s and 90s cartoons we all know, Dobson’s recommendations and taste in shows seems to be primarily focused on just the most recent stuff everybody else likes/a very small pool of rather generic shows. I am not saying he should be contrarian on principal and e.g. dislike Gravity Falls, but he lacks initiative to look out for new and old stuff himself.

I in fact remember when he asked twitter first if he should give Wander over Yonder, one of the best cartoons of the last decade, a chance, cause it seemed he was too chicken to have an opinion on his own.

Then again, weirdly enough, Dobson actually tends to be contrarian for the sake of it, till someone he respects or sucks up to tends to have a different opinion on a show/movie. For example, while he acts like Frozen is a great movie franchise and defends the second movie to the point he becomes anti-feministic when a woman has a different opinion than him on it, he actually gave the first movie a terrible review on deviantart back in 2014. Accusing it of “same face syndrome” and a shame to the name of Disney. Obviously that was also before the hashtag #GiveElsaaGirlfriend became popular and he went so far as to hint he thinks an incest ship with Anna was great. And Legend of Korra? According to first deviantart posts by him garbage. Which was an opinion swiftly changed the moment Korrasami became popular in the fandom by season 3.

The point I want to make with this digression is, that there are a lot of past actions by him hinting on the fact that Dobson kinda despises animation, when it does not fit within a very narrow niche of things he likes. Further indicated by his disdain for “adult” animated shows or hostility towards foreign animation, except the occasional movie by Studio Ghibli for example.

Because of this lack of a bigger picture, I do not think Dobson is aware how in terms of story, cartoons can heavily vary. And when it comes to mature subjects, you can’t really engage with them if you lack a story carrying them in turn. Let’s look again at the comic. What cartoon characters do you see in it, when Dobson talks about how he believes children cartoons “treat these (non-defined) mature subjects with FAR more respect than the hardest “dark, grim and gritty” stories”?

Pinkie Pie from My Little Pony, three main characters of Spongebob, Steven Universe, Courage the Cowardly Dog, Blossom from the Powerpuff Girls and Mickey Mouse. You want my opinion on them? None of them are from any cartoons tackling mature subjects in a huge manner.

However, they are from great shows. (Well, everyone but Steven, but I explain that later.)

See, this is where putting cartoons into perspective within the vast history of animation, comes in handy. Cause looking at them it is undeniable that people put effort into these shows. Effort in the animation and the writing in order to create an entertaining product, decent enough that not only little kids can enjoy it as a mindless distraction, but even older people can find merit in it, thanks to characters with decent personality, good humor, world building and even an engaging story. But all of that doesn’t make these shows or any story necessarily tackle a “mature subject”. Sure, the latest incarnation of My little pony was not as saccharine as its predecessor but rather cartoony as a good 90s show, but that doesn’t mean the new version is the Schindler’s List of animation (excuse the hyperbole). Same for the other cartoons, with Dobson also not acknowledging the fact that Spongebob e.g. had quite some dips in quality over the years (and even made pretty awful jokes about serious subjects such as suicide) or that Steven Universe, while tending to tackle mature subjects for its story (like trauma, war, abuse, self esteem issues, racism, rape and homosexuality) has failed multiple times over its run (even back when this comic was made) to treat these subjects not just as plot and drama points, but also with enough respect within the narrative, to the point a lot of former fans of the show turned their back on it, cause they had enough of the issues they could relate to being simplified and resolved in a cookie cutter manner so Rebeca Sugar could tell a whimsical story about gay space rocks and forgiveness.

Let us not even forget the fact, that while there is a huge number of cartoons with decent writing and value to them (and that those were not only created within the last 10 years or so), there is also just a lot of garbage out there that counts as “kids animation”. Cartoons and movies that were written with not a care in the world and at times outright more mean spirited as some of the stuff Dobson likely hates in life action. Are you telling me those toilet humor driven garbage piles of creativity are mature?

The point I try to make is, Dobson’s GENERAL statement that kids cartoons tackle mature subjects better than other form of media, is factually wrong, because a lot of shows don’t even try to be mature in the first place. Which however does not mean, there aren’t attempts made at being mature or tackle a mature subject.

Growing up with cartoons since the 90s, I saw quite a few cartoons once in a while having episodes with themes to them that were surprisingly “dark”, dramatic or related to issues I and other kids could also see and relate to in the real world. Bullying going out of control, eating disorders, school violence (even school shootings), dealing with the passing of a loved one, to name a few basic ones. Gargoyles and Hey Arnold were two very important cartoons for me in that regard, with Gargoyles showing me how dramatic a good action cartoon could be when compared to other action cartoons at the time (like Ninja Turtles) and Hey Arnold episodes like “Helga on the Couch” giving me a rather somber look into what “therapy” looks like closer to reality, while normally being a show with the slice of life adventures of a kid in the big city.

And I do highly appreciate that nowadays there are more cartoons doing ongoing storyarcs and as a result of actually having more drama to them, adding tension and character development to their plots. Things we did not quite have to the degree we have nowadays back then in the average show. But it is debatable if those things are equal to “mature subjects” such as racism, abuse or trauma. Cause at the end of the day, a lot of kids cartoons tend to only scratch the surface of those things in order to flesh out a plot, instead of making the plot about those issues. Which at times is even for the best if you ask me. Cause we should not forget, these shows and movies are made for kids. And because of their age, a lot of kids lack at times the knowledge and experience in life to properly understand the themes and subjects some people may try to convey with their work. Particularly when you want to tackle subjects such as trauma, abuse and war which lets be honest, a lot of people can’t even comprehend in their complexity as adults. So how are kids supposed to comprehend them? One way, in my opinion, is by simplifying them and turning them into part of a narrative instead of the main focus of the narrative. But that in itself doesn’t always work and can have negative consequences in multiple ways. For example by making the story suddenly non engaging, delivering the subject in such a manner that people can get the wrong message of what you are trying to say or (at worst) simplifying it to such a degree, it becomes outright offensive to others.

A good example that comes to my mind for that would be how Captain Planet back in the 90s tried to tackle the subject of AIDS in one episode. On one hand, considering how the disease was a big deal back then but no one openly talked about it, you kinda have to give credit to Captain Planet to tackle it. On the other hand, is a subject such as a deadly disease that back then was barely researched and killed millions, really something you want to tackle on an overly preachy (but considering whose company produced it, also very hypocritical) kids show, where most of the time the solution to a problem was not even grounded in reality? And spoilers, the episode treated AIDS not even as the big deal it was, but as something the villain would exploit to spread a rumor on the ill kid, because that somehow equaled a chance to pollute the world more. Not really mature, if you ask me.

What all of this ranting is boiling down to, is that Dobson failed to make a case for how kids animation is able to tackle mature subjects, by not putting his opinion in the bigger context of what animation is/can be and what he means by the term “mature theme”. All he did was just indirectly soapbox that he thinks every other form of media is incapable of being about a serious issue, in doing so also insulting the art of storytelling in itself by disregarding anything not expressed in funny pictures specifically made for children or manchildren on tumblr who want to act they are the big boys, cause a cartoon horse made them feel sad.

He did so by making a very weak argument, not being able to present it in a manner that was hard to debunk and by drawing a comic in which everything looks surprisingly lifeless and like the least amount of quality and effort (things I argued can make a great cartoon) was put into it.

Which ironically, is the total opposite, of being mature.

And lastly, can’t believe I have to say that, but Dobson, the Pokemon’s name is Butterfree, not Butterfry. Butterfry is what you get when you make a statue of a Futurama character made out of something you put on your bread.

#comic #my little pony #adobsonartworks #maturity #western animation #steven universe #syac

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ourooboroos · 4 years

Text

something in the way you look at me

Summary: Even though so many of Magnus’s texts (clean texts, too, not innuendos or dirty talk or anything -- just kind, friendly texts) had Alec blushing, Alec couldn’t wait to see him again. He was positive he would make a fool of himself, that’s just how he operated, but regardless, he wanted to see Magnus again. That brief time in the bookstore had not been enough. Not enough to get to know each other, obviously, and not nearly enough to appreciate Magnus’s carefully styled hair, inimitable style, and easy grace.

So Alec asked him out. Read on my AO3 or under the cut!

I don't know how or why I feel different in your eyes -Christian Bautista, "Missing Piece"

It wasn’t like Alec had a bad childhood.

He was safe; he never questioned where his next meal would come from, or whether he would have a bed to sleep in at night. His parents provided him with toys and three siblings and every opportunity he could ask for, like guitar lessons, carpools to swim practice, and a laptop when he went away to college. Even his adopted brother, Jace, couldn’t say the same about all of these things until the Lightwood family took him in at age ten. It’s not like Alec had any misconceptions about how lucky and privileged he was.

But he did sometimes feel like something was missing. He just didn’t know what.

Alec was 20 when he met Magnus.

The campus bookstore was crowded; it made sense, it was two days before classes started and students were piling in to buy necessary texts. Alec was working the register, a bit tired due to the early start to his shift, and had just handed change back to a nice blonde girl when a man stepped forward. He was just a few inches shorter than Alec’s impressive 6’3” and dressed to kill in a silky-looking deep red button down shirt and tight black pants. Necklaces draped across his neck and hid under his collar and he placed two large history books on the counter. Alec saw painted nails and various rings glinting under the fluorescent lights above them. He scanned the books’ barcodes with a gulp.

“Buying or renting?” he managed, chancing a glance at the man and immediately regretting it. His face burned as deep brown eyes lined in kohl stare back at him, a smirk playing on the man’s lips.

“Renting.”

“That’s 145 dollars.” He pulled his wallet from his back pocket and handed him a credit card. After completing the transaction, the other man signing a receipt, Alec handed him his books, ignoring the way their fingers brushed. “Good luck,” he said.

The other man’s eyes crinkled in a smile. “You, too.”

Alec tried to be subtle as he watched him walk away, his hips swaying this way and that with his books clutched in his arms, but when he looked towards the next customer in front of him he found her staring with raised eyebrows. Oops.

Smiling sheepishly, he quickly grabbed the man’s receipt to put away when he noticed something -- on the bottom, written in curvy script, was Magnus followed by ten numbers -- and he could feel his face flushing as he quietly set it aside to deal with later.

He grinned at the next customer in line. “Buying or renting?”

That night, as Izzy was cooking dinner (Alec told her she didn’t have to, and secretly he would’ve preferred if she didn’t, but she never listened), Alec stared at his phone. He had entered Magnus’s number at the end of his shift before putting the receipt back in its place, but he wasn’t sure what to do now. And he was realizing that whether he and Magnus talk at all is all in his control, and wasn’t that frightening? He’d never made the first move -- or, he guessed, second move, since Magnus had given him his number after all -- especially not on a guy as attractive as Magnus.

“Dinner’s ready!” Izzy’s voice echoed through their open kitchen and living area, startling Alec out of his thoughts. Before he could think about it any longer, he quickly tapped out Hey, it’s the cashier from the bookstore. I hope it’s alright that I’m texting and sent it to Magnus in the hopes that Izzy’s disaster of a dinner would distract him from waiting for a text back.

It turned out not even Izzy could ruin Stouffer’s premade lasagna and a simple salad, and Alec’s phone vibrated in his pocket in the middle of the meal.

Alec hadn’t come to the realization that he was gay all at once. It wasn’t like there was some earth-shattering moment where he suddenly just knew. It was more like he experienced a lot of little moments that added up to this inevitable realization.

The one that stood out to him the most was the time he took the chance in 11th grade to audition for the school musical. It was completely unlike him, and to be completely honest, he only did it because Andrew Underhill always auditioned and always got a leading role. Andrew Underhill was cute. And he was the only openly gay student at Alicante High.

But Alec pretended it was because of Lydia Branwell.

Lydia was awesome. She had a graceful yet take-no-shit way about her. She was the class president and Alec was certain that she could kick his ass if she wanted to. They had been friends since 5th grade. And when he knew and could find the words, Lydia was the first person Alec told.

Anyway, during one fateful rehearsal, Alec caught wind of a party being held that Friday night. He hadn’t been invited, but that was fine with him -- he wasn’t a big party guy. It was not fine with Lydia, who pleaded with him to come along, offering to let him copy her chemistry homework for the rest of the week. And of course Alec caved. (But he didn’t copy her homework. Much.)

The basement was dimly lit and walled with wood panelling, music pumping through an iPod hooked up to an old stereo. It was sweaty and gross as dozens of teens danced sloppily, some spilling out the sliding glass doors into the backyard and lounging around the pool. Soon, glass bottles of alcohol mixed with teenage hormones led a large crowd to play Spin the Bottle. As Lydia dragged Alec into the circle he was overwhelmed by the feeling that this was a scene in a the teen drama that was somebody’s life, and he was an extra. He sat cross-legged next to Lydia and giggled and watched the bottle spin round and round, classmates sharing awkward, inebriated kisses. The bottle had blessedly passed him every time until suddenly… it didn’t.

Alec’s eyes widened. The green-eyed girl across from him, the one who had spun the bottle, looked familiar but he couldn’t place her in his boozy fog. Maybe they had stats class together? She crawled across the large circle towards him, and he swallowed, tense. When she reached him, she paused, glancing from his eyes to his lips and back again, asking silently for permission. The other students cheered. So Alec leaned forward and pressed his lips to hers.

And he felt nothing.

It was a perfectly decent kiss, but Alec found his thoughts wandering even in the few seconds their lips were connected. She tasted like vodka punch mixed with a fruity lip gloss, and their lips slid together, and Alec felt nothing except confusion at how he was analyzing this whole event so factually.

It wasn’t how he thought his first kiss would be.

They broke apart and Alec offered a small rueful smile. She pecked his cheek and backed into her spot in the circle. A few others took their turns and Alec sat silently, picking at the rubber of his Converse and wondering what it all meant. And that, of course, was when it was Underhill’s turn.

Alec knew what was going to happen even before it did. Underhill took the bottle in his right hand and spun it and Alec watched, nearly boiling over with nerves, as it landed on him.

Underhill’s eyes were questioning as he looked at Alec. The students around him were quiet, and Alec could hear someone suck in a quick breath. Nobody knew how Alec would react. Nobody knew that he had been waiting, wanting, to kiss Underhill for months.

So when Alec nodded minutely and he and Underhill met in the middle of the circle, he paused only briefly before grabbing the back of Underhill’s neck and pulling him in.

That was the moment it all came together for Alec. Every hint he’d felt -- how he couldn’t take his eyes off Underhill when he walked in the room; how, while Jace was preoccupied with Lara Croft, he was more interested in Nathan Drake; how his stomach churned every time his parents tried to reassure him that one day he would settle down with a “nice girl” -- combined and formed a cohesive thought in his head, one that maybe he’d known before but had been too afraid to really consciously consider. He was gay.

He was gay, and he figured it out mid-kiss with Andrew Underhill in a classmate’s dingy basement.

At the time, Alec thought that knowing that he was gay might be the thing he had been missing. He thought that, since he’d figured it out, the missing puzzle piece might appear and slide into place. But even once he’d come out -- once he’d told Lydia, who just smiled and hugged him; once he’d told Izzy and Jace and Max, who reacted as kindly as he had known they would; once he’d told his parents, who didn’t disown him but didn’t want to talk about it, either; once he’d told Andrew, and asked him on a date, and kissed him in the Dairy Queen -- he still felt that hole. He was more himself than he had ever been, but he still didn’t feel complete.

M: If I had a problem with you texting me, I wouldn’t have given you my number. ;) Alec stared at the text. The boy from the bookstore -- Magnus -- had texted him back. With a winky face. And his face had turned red just reading it. How embarrassing.

Alec exhaled, thumbing a message back. He’s halfway through an introduction when another text comes through.

M: I fear I’m at a disadvantage, though, seeing as how you know my name and I don’t know yours.

A: It’s Alec. M: Hmm. Short for Alexander? A handsome name for a handsome man.

It, somehow, was easier from there.

Even though so many of Magnus’s texts (clean texts, too, not innuendos or dirty talk or anything -- just kind, friendly texts) had Alec blushing, Alec couldn’t wait to see him again. He was positive he would make a fool of himself, that’s just how he operated, but regardless, he wanted to see Magnus again. That brief time in the bookstore had not been enough. Not enough to get to know each other, obviously, and not nearly enough to appreciate Magnus’s carefully styled hair, inimitable style, and easy grace.

So Alec asked him out.

He called him, this time, felt it would be more appropriate than a text, if a bit harder. When Magnus picked up, curious, Alec felt his heart beat like a hummingbird’s wings.

“Oh, hello.” Magnus’s voice was teasing, happy. “To what do I owe the pleasure, Alexander?”

Alec swallowed, willing his nerves to go away, and rubbed his hand over the back of his neck. “Do you… would you like to meet up for coffee, sometime?” He winced at the way his voice cracked.

Magnus hummed. Alec smiled at the sound, even as his nerves raced. “Is it a date?”

“Preferably,” Alec all but stuttered.

“Then yes, I think I would.”

The coffee shop near campus was small and nearly empty, odd considering classes had started and it was usually a prime studying spot. Alec waited, sitting at a table in the corner, eyes on the door. When Magnus walked in, he couldn’t help but stare. Magnus was wearing blue skinny jeans and a thin burgundy sweater. He had on the same layering of necklaces and rings he did on the bookstore, his hair was swept back in a sort of faux-hawk, and his eyeliner was dark and intense. He was absolutely beautiful. And when he saw Alec, his face lit up.

As they sat and talked, laughing about anecdotes from class and how they’d chosen their majors, Magnus scooted a little closer and put his hand atop Alec’s. It was warm and soft and felt right. The butterflies in Alec's stomach settled.

And he felt something, some missing piece, some part of a puzzle, fall into place.

#malec #shadowhunters #alec lightwood #magnus bane #alec x magnus #fic #ficlet #linkscap writes #college au #mundane au

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softstraykidsimagines · 5 years

Text

Variety show

Summary: You and Jeongin, by some happy (or not?) coincidence, ended up on the same variety show, but could you both keep your relationship a secret with prying questions?

Requested: yes

Pairing: Jeongin x Reader

Genre: angst, fluff, idol AU

Word count: 3.5k words

Warnings: written at 11pm, so probs sometimes weird sounding and im too tired to check

A/N: 1) don’t even ask me abt the group name idek what i was thinking. 2) DAmn sON i didn’t mean to make it this long. 3) fun fact: at first this was gonna be a comedic bulletpoint story, then i changed it to a feeble emotional roller coaster (i really do mean feeble af). 4) i hope you like it <33

MASTERLIST

“Please welcome our wonderful guests, Five Times Brighter!!!”, called the MC, followed by the cheers from the audience. One by one your group members and yourself filed out onto the small stage to greet the crowd. You were quickly ushered into a seat, where you could witness the sheer amount of people who had come to watch, obscured slightly by the blinding glare of the stage lights.

You felt your throat tighten. This better work out, you thought, feeling ill at ease by knowing there must have been at least ten cameras pointed at you and your comrades. What would we do if anyone found out? You shook your head violently with a pout. Stop it. Nothing’s gonna happen. You’re overreacting...

You were jolted out of your thoughts by the voice of the MC as he raised his voice again. “And now please welcome the rookie legends themselves! The great award winners, Stray Kids!!!” The room erupted into screams of fans as the nine handsome boys jogged out from backstage.

Your stomach did an uncomfortable somersault. Don’t make eye contact! If you do, someone will definitely notice!! Then you’re finished!!! You mentally slapped yourself and took a deep breath. You then realized that you’d placed your index and middle finger against your throat, an uncanny imitation of Felix taking his pulse as he became nervous. You’d somehow picked up the habit from the cute Aussie boy as you hung out with him at the same time as Jeongin. With a gulp, you slammed your hand back onto your lap and stared unemotionally at the boys as they sat on the other couch across from you from the MC’s center chair.

When everyone had sat down, the room went annoyingly quiet. You swallowed back anger as you waited for the MC to ask something and distract you. Finally:

“First, I’d like to ask both groups if they could tell us what inspired certain songs in their album”. Some applause followed as you forced your muscles to relax. “Should we ask FTB first?” The crowd cheered.

Your smile started becoming a little more genuine. Nothing bad, just a mindless answer to your average question. The ‘What inspired you to write X’ question was always a default for some reason. But at least it was eas-

“Y/n!” The blood drained from your face at your name. Oh... oh no... “A little birdie told me”, the MC said cheekily, “that you wrote one of the most successful songs on the album. ‘Winged love’, wasn’t it?”

You started to loath the MC, or whoever had decided that that specific question would be a good one. It’s true, you had written and composed the song, but your inspiration was exactly what you wanted to avoid, as your mind flashed to moment you got the idea for the lyrics.

~~~~~~~~~

“Try to pick your feet up a bit more here”, you said, poking Jeongin’s leg as he posed awkwardly in front of the practice room mirror. He groaned in retaliation, muscles trembling from exhaustion.

“I can’t do it”, he whined. “It’s useless. Just go on without me and practice on your own. You’ll do so much better without me dragging you down”.

You scoffed without any amusement. “Like Hell I will. I’m staying right here until you can get this. I said I’d help, so I’m helping”. He gave you a pitiful look, and you smiled softly. “Let’s take a break, then. I’ve got biscuits!”

“I don’t usually eat at this hour”, Jeongin said hesitantly.

“You don’t usually practice at this hour”, you answered matter-of-factually. You didn’t wait for an answer and dragged your boyfriend down to the floor, rolling to your side and grabbing a huge packet full of snacks and tearing it open mercilessly. You offered one to the boy in front of you, who conceded with a sigh. “Cheers!” You knocked your biscuit against his, making a couple of crumbs fall to the ground, and shoved the entire thing into your mouth. Jeongin stared at you until you made a face, cookie still lodged between your cheeks, making him burst into laughter. You fought not to spit your snack out as you sniggered with him.

“How do you do that”, he asked.

“Mmmfmm ru wha”, you said, still trying to down your food.

“Always find a way to make me feel so much better, no matter how battered I feel”, he said, mesmerized. You stared at him uselessly, so he continued. “When I’ve been at my worst, or when I’ve felt like giving up, you’ve been there to pick me up. You’re like my pair of wings”. You stayed quiet, scared to knock him out of his reverie. He smiled faintly. “At this point, I could jump off a mountain, trusting you to catch me if you said you would. And I always feel safe with you. No matter what scares me, I feel better when you’re next to me, as if you’ve become a hypothetical shield. And I want to be the same, I want to always be there for you, whenever you’re feeling down, I want to be the first person you think of going to”. He suddenly curled his fingers and squeezed his eyes shut. “That was so cringey I’m sorry”.

You giggled softly and wrapped your arms around him, resting your head on his shoulder. “It’s a little cliche, I admit. But it’s the best kind of cliche. Because I feel the same way”. You lifted your head kissed his cheek. “I’ll always be right here. And I’ll always trust you to be there too”.

~~~~~~~~~

Your eyes came back into focus, as your mind started racing, scrounging for a decent story that could convince the public that it had nothing to do with the very boy who was sitting only five feet from you.

“Uh-uhhh”, your mind became completely blank. “My... One of my old friends”. You cleared your throat. “Whenever she was upset, I would want to do anything to make her feel better. And I did do some pretty stupid things”. You smiled sheepishly at the pitch black half of the room where the fans giggled in reaction to your stutter. Your confidence grew as you continued: “The lyrics represent what I wanted to be to her. I wanted her to feel as if she could trust me with anything at all. As if I could always pick her up if she felt low”. You finished and prayed that it was enough.

The MC nodded, thoughtful. “So she never said the things in the lyrics out loud?”

You shook your head. “She wasn’t the most extroverted person”, you answered. “But I hope that that’s how she felt”. At that, everyone seemed satisfied and applauded. You bobbed your head, looking back at your clenched fists in your lap. I’ve gotta be more careful. One slip-up and I’m in deep-

“How about our favorite maknae”, the MC laughed, turning to SKZ. Your pulse went sky-high again.

-shit.

Jeongin let his eyes go wide, and pointed at himself. “Na?” He asked in an innocent voice. Despite your nerves going crazy, you managed to chuckled along with everyone else at the cute act.

The MC wasn’t an exception, though he quickly regained his posture. “Yes, I believe it was you who wrote the song ‘Midnight Walk’, am I correct?”

The boy nodded with a bright smile. “That’s right! And the first ever song where I wrote one hundred percent of the lyrics!!” He glowed with pride, and a secret burst of happiness for him shot through you. You could still remember when he’d told you about his accomplished goal.

~~~~~~~~~

You swung your hand, latched onto Jeongin’s, back and forth as you both strolled down an empty trail that ran along the Han River. “So?”, you prompted.

He looked back at you. “What?” He was playing innocent. Of course he was. You giggled and started swinging your connected hands even more, feeling blood rush through your slightly chilled fingers. Without speaking, you both started skipping forward, bumping each other and giggling like children. You loved that. That you could both move in sync without having to communicate. This continued until you pulled him to a stop.

“Okay, now actually tell me. What did you wanna say earlier. You looked as if you were about to explode with excitement”.

Jeongin grinned happily. “I...” he spoke excruciatingly slowly. “...have written.... my own song! And it’s gonna be on the next album!!!!!” At this, he picked you up and spun you around, until you felt too dizzy to stand on your own.

You laughed with him, and leaned on him. “Jeonginie, that’s amazing! I’m so proud of you”. You kept clinging onto him. “What’s it called?”

“I haven’t decided yet”, he confessed. He was quiet for a moment. “Do you think I could name it after a fun memory with you? Without being too obvious, that is”.

You nodded. “Yeah, I think you could get away with it”.

And so he grinned broadly. “Okay, then. How about I call it midnight walk, after tonight?”

“Why tonight of all things? We’re just walking”, you asked incredulously.

“Because the simplest memories with you are the best”, he answered, squealing a bit at the overly sweet phrase.

You laughed. “Alright then. Are you allowed to spoil a few lyrics for me?”

“Of course”, said Jeongin, hoisting you up so that he was half carrying you. “It’s my song after all”. His voice went up a notch with happiness. “A few lines feel a bit random, without context; but just remember that I thought of you while writing them”. You hugged his arm until you thought you might be cutting his circulation. As you both kept walking, you slowly regained your balance and he listed a few lines from his oeuvre. That was the best walk at 1:30am you’d ever had.

~~~~~~~~~

Jeongin was still beaming at the MC, who began fanning himself dramatically. “His smile is so blinding”, he called, and there came calls of agreement from the audience. “But you still haven’t answered”. The room went silent again. “What inspired you to write the lyrics of ‘Midnight Walk’?”

Jeongin gave another dazzling smile. “It was a lot of different things; it took months of me scribbling down random ideas to be able to form something logical”.

The MC nodded again. “Of course, the lyrics do vary a lot. But I think we’re more interested in the more romantic sounding ones in the song”. The crowd ooh-ed, as if confirming the statement.

Your boyfriend grinned once more. “Well, those specific lines are dedicated to someone very special in my life”.

NO! You had to bite your tongue to stop yourself from yelling aloud. He knew about the warnings, as well as you.

~~~~~~~~~

“Both Stray Kids and Five Times Brighter Will be on a variety show on the second weekend of the month”, stated one of your managers, standing next to JYP himself. Everyone nodded together as the schedule was recited in its entirety. It was all standard, except for the fact that the two groups had never been on a same show.

As the schedule came to its end, both groups dispersed to continue practice, but JYP called Jeongin and yourself aside. “I’d like to specify something”, he said in a tone that let you know that nothing good was coming. “When you’re both on that variety show in the middle of the month, I don’t even want you two to make eye contact. We don’t want anyone knowing about your relationship. I’m warning you now, keep it under wraps, and there won’t be any problems”.

You and Jeongin nodded, eyes round. As JYP finally walked away, you turned to your boyfriend. “Why the Hell does he want us to stay a secret?”, you failed terribly at keeping the anger out of your voice. “You’re allowed to be dating by now, so am I. No one needs to know that we started going out before my ban was up. So what’s his problem?”

Jeongin pulled you against him. “I don’t know, but let’s just do as he said. I don’t wanna think about what could happen if something goes wrong”. You eventually agreed, still grudging.

“It’s still unfair that we have to hide when we’re so happy”.

~~~~~~~~~

The memory raged in your mind, nearly as loud as the screams of shock that wracked the studio at Jeongin’s words. Everyone stared at him with wide eyes, as he smiled calmly. Jeongin, what are you going??!!!!

“They’re dedicated to someone special in my life”. He had to raise his voice to make himself heard. “Whom I’ve not met yet”. There was a collective gasp at the strange turn in his statement. “One day, I want to be able to say those things to the love of my life, on a walk at one in the morning”.

Everyone aah-ed in understanding, and you let out a breath you didn’t know you’d been holding. You weren’t sure if you wanted to smack him or kiss him, but at least no one suspected anything anymore. And he’d very secretly hinted at the walk when he shared the lyrics with you, in the dead of night. Your heart swelled with warmth and love for the boy.

“Look at y/n, they’re blushing!”, yelled the MC. You were so shocked that you yelled out as everyone shouted teasingly. The MC started laughing. “Are you thinking of anyone in particular, y/n? Anyone you’d like to take a midnight walk with?” Electricity filled the air.

None of your damn business, you thought hotly. But of course it was. Your entire life was not yours to control, but the public’s. You made a face as if you’d swallowed a particularly sour lemon, which incidentally seemed to be a pretty good answer for the public.

“Apparently, y/n isn’t at all interested in a relationship”, chuckled the MC. He quickly continued with a bunch of other standard questions, and you imagined the different ways you could smack him and still get away with it. Maybe I should throw a bucket of water at him, then he wouldn’t be so obnoxiously happy, you thought, in your own world.

You werre making eye-contact with Jeongin, and realized with a start that you’d been staring at him this entire time. You checked that no one had remarked, but the cameras were strained on Changbin as he complained about being woken up too harshly by Woojin, to the amusement of most. You quickly stole another look at your boyfriend but, almost too subtle to notice, he shook his head, looking a bit panicky. You immediately understood and glanced elsewhere, trying to act interested in some tangled cables by a stage light.

When the questions had dragged on long enough to make your feet go numb, it was finally time for a game before the show came to an end. You stood up gratefully, hobbling a bit to get to stage right. You craned your neck to see what game you were meant to play against Stray Kids, and with a crashing wave of horror, you realized that Pocky Stick packets were sitting on the tiny stool near the stage wings. You saw from the corner of your eye that Jeongin was looking as displeased about the idea as you, even though everyone else seemed almost thrilled.

This is nuts, you kept repeating to yourself. Either I’ll have to play with one of SKZ, WHO KNOW JEONGIN AND I ARE DATING, or I play against Jeongin and people realize that we seem too comfortable. It’s a lose lose situation oh shit oh shit oh sh-

“How about the desert-fox-maknae and y/n, who seems so keen to avoid a little kiss!”, yelled the MC, who was tantalizingly close enough for you to punch. You faced Jeongin, who had become unusually pale, and you fought back your own panic as you were passed a Pocky Stick.

Your stomach churned as you both stared at each other, sweat beading at the hairline. Someone gave your shoulder a push --you didn’t know who, and you couldn’t force yourself to care-- and you bit into you end of the stick. Jeongin bit the other end and cheers rose in the crowd, deafening you and making your eyes water.

You weren’t sure how long you both kept staring at each other, but in the seconds --it could’ve been hours-- that Jeongin’s eyes bore into yours, something seemed to click in his mind, and he clenched his jaw with determination. You nibbled a bit of the Pocky Stick and noise in the room went up. Slowly the gap between your lips became smaller and smaller until you were close enough for you to hear his heartbeat, or maybe it was yours, pounding in your ears.

You squeezed your eyes shut, your senses completely abandoning you. We must be less than a centimeter apart! And then you felt a firm hand clasp your wrist. Before you could understand what was happening, Jeongin’s lips smacked against yours. But not by accident. This was with decision, the Pocky Stick forgotten. From habit, you kissed him back, your ears ringing. As you pulled away, you realized it had been him who had grabbed your wrist, and he’d put a the other hand on your waist to pull you closer. The ringing in your ears was from the screams that came from the audience.

Panic rose up in you again as what had happened sank in. We kissed... on live TV!! Your heart was in your throat. What’s going to happen to us? Jeongin said something that never made it to your ears, but looked something like ‘trust me’. He turned to everyone watching, now in a confused frenzy at what they’d witnessed. “Y/n and I are dating”, he stated simply, which was followed by an enormous uproar. He continued in a yell. “We weren’t meant to say anything, but I think it’s unfair that we have to keep our happiness a secret, just for the satisfaction of the public. So now you know!!!” His last words were drowned out by more screams of shock and confusion as you were both pulled off and away from stage.

You had become light-headed, everything becoming an incoherent blur as your receded into your own chaotic thoughts. What’s gonna happen what will JYP do to us will we be kicked out of the company oh god what if I become the reason for Jeongin leaving Stray Kids I couldn’t live with myself--

In your daze, you were pushed into a small waiting room. “Wait here”, said a gruff voice. I’m going to pass out! The world is tilting to the left! And now the right... Left.... Right.... You leaned against a wall and looked at Jeongin, who stared back at you, expressionless. After a few seconds, you started violently trembling.

“What are we going to do”, you breathed, more to yourself than to your boyfriend. “They’ll hate us, they’ll kick us out of the company! Why did you do that?” You had no anger in your voice as you stared at Jeongin, just helplessness. He walked over and wrapped his arms around you tightly but with a little tremor.

“I don’t know”, he confessed, and you sniffled slightly. “But I thought of what you’d said when we were told to stay quiet. We shouldn’t have to hide, especially because we’re so happy. I think if JYP wants to kick us out, let him”.

“No, no, Jeongin!” You let out a panicked sob. “What about the other boys? You can’t leave them, not just for me! What ever happens, you can’t leave Stray Kids!”

You both stood there, holding onto each other tightly, for a long time. After what felt like hours, you both sat down on the shiny floor of the tiny room, still not letting go of each other’s hands. You had calmed down now, and just sat quietly. Suddenly, Jeongin sat up and grabbed his phone. “What are you doing”, you asked, your voice slurred and muffled from exhaustion.

“The show was a live broadcast wasn’t it”, asked Jeongin. “And because it’s the evening, most of the world will have been awake. Which means...” He tapped the Twitter icon and the app came to life. He immediately went to the Trending page, and with a gasp, you saw #JeonginAndY/nDating on the second most popular tag.

“Oh my God”, you breathed. You didn’t think the effect would be so big. Before you could stop him, Jeongin tapped on the tag. You yelped and looked away, not wanting to see any of the awful comments people had made.

“Y/n...” Jeongin’s voice was laced with shock.

“I know, I know, you don’t have to tell me it’s bad”, you say in despair.

“It’s... Everyone’s congratulating us!” Your eyes snapped open, and you swung your head around to glare at the bright screen. Thousands upon thousands of tweets had the trending hashtag, with people voicing their wishes of happiness for you as a couple, in English, Korean, you saw Spanish and french and Japanese. Message after message flashed by as Jeongin scrolled downwards. He started laughing; softly at first, then loudly, like a child how had received a special gift for Christmas. “They’re happy for us! Y/n they’re happy for us!!” He hugged you tightly as you laughed with him, more out of relief and exhaustion than anything else.

After a few more minutes, spent with you both bent over the phone and reading all the happy tweets, one of the staff came in to let you know that JYP was on his way to talk. “He didn’t sound as angry as we expected though, if that makes you feel a little better”, he said sympathetically. You thanked him as he wished you both luck and closed the door. And you turned back to Jeongin.

“You know... I don’t want to jinx it but... maybe this wasn’t as bad as I thought”, you said apprehensively.

The boy hugged you tightly. “Well, no matter what happens, we’ll always be there for each other. Right?”

You smiled, thinking of ‘Midnight Walk’ and ‘Winged Love’. “Right”. You felt warm, think about the lyrics you’d both written, saying you’d never leave the love of your life.

Because it was true.

im sorry idek what the ending is anymore but eh this was the third draft soooo...

#stray kids #stray kids jeongin #imagine #imagines #kpop imagines #scenario #kpop scenario #kpop scenarios #jeongin #yang jeongin #jeongin imagines #jeongin scenario #angst #fluff #idol au #kpop au #stray kids au #boyfriend jeongin #boyfriend au

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chickenandchili420 · 4 years

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The Proposal- an adaptation of The English Game, a 1D fanfic

The thrill of a football game is truly something to remember.

On a hot Saturday, in the summer of ’47- 1847 - the bleachers were packed. The wives and significant others of the players came with their wealthy-looking selves, dragging their children along with them. Even from afar, you could see the vibrant colours of the oversized skirts and gowns; a tell-tale sign of showing off. Like they were saying that their husbands would carry the team and the number of ruffles they had was how sure they were. If that were factual, then a certain Niall Horan had high hopes ahead of him.

There were seemingly two types of people at the moment: those who came just to support and those who came because their life depended on it. If that were factual, a certain Louis Tomlinson was there for the fear of losing his life.

As the two teams came out into the field, the crowd went almost silent. Minus the constant wailing of a 16-month-old child, no one made a noise. Almost like saying something was a sign of disrespect for the game.

The two captains stepped forward. Deep blue eyes made an intense stare with light ones littered with gold. Their stories were different, but their intentions were the same. Win the cup. Go back home. Drink some beer. The task sounding so simple but the process being so arduous. It took quite some time to be able to play like this, the working class and the first class. But here we were.

”You’re going down, Horan, ” the shortest captain says with pure determination in his irises. The other laughs pompously as if Louis had told a joke to his face.

”Are ya serious? You’re all wrong. You and your cheap team are the ones who’re going down so you can go back to working in the factories like you were born to do. Now lemme have the ball so we can win this cup.”

Louis swears that if he wasn't raised to be so nice, he would’ve thrown the 2-pound leather ball in the rich man's clean fresh shaven face. Louis hates the first class with a passion. Always has, always will.

The screech of the wooden whistle was heard from the sidelines. The game had begun.

Niall started with the ball. He was playing hard to get with an adversary, passing the ball in between his feet and going the opposite way the other man was going as a juke. It would’ve been a perfect breakaway if Louis wasn't in the way. He successfully stole the ball by sliding his foot in between Niall’s legs and kicking it behind him. You could hear a curse erupt from the younger man and then an order to ”Go after that Tomlinson lad!”.

Louis noticed someone from the other team running up to challenge. He was smarter than that though. The football player stopped just in time as the other man went tumbling from trying to stop at the same time. Louis couldn’t resist the slight curve of his lips as he glanced at the outcome.

”Too easy, ” he thought as he went in for a shot at the net. To Niall’s surprise, Louis made the goal. A few men and women cheered from the bleachers. Unlike the rich, they were here for Louis. Dressed in their best, which was attire that appeared to be what the wealthy would call ”servants clothes”. But that was all they had.

The other teammates raved and praised but Louis knew this was only the beginning. He pushed the fringe out of his eyes as he jogged over to forward position. As always, Niall started with the ball. He made a decent pass to one of his teammates and ran ahead to receive a pass back. This is what Louis already predicted. He ordered another forward man, someone we come to know as Charles, to intercept the other team’s pass. It works and Louis calls for the ball.

”Oi, pass it over!” he yells. Charles successfully kicks it and Louis makes his breakaway. An adversary, someone who we come to know as Arthur thinks ahead and sprints over to shove the shorter man aside, resulting in him making out with the dirt. Now it's Louis’ turn to curse.

Arthur made a wide shot and the goalkeeper failed to keep the leather ball away from the back of the net.

An eruption of praise and cheers arose from a majority of the crowd. Arthur and Niall took it all in, like the rich bastards they were. At least, that's what was going in Louis' head. But he had to keep his mind on the game.

After missed goals and ear-popping cheers, the game ended 2-2. Louis scowled as he was approached by Niall’s right-hand man at the end of the game.

”The captain says there should be another game on Saturday to even the score out. Y’know, as a tie-breaker. You okay with that?” Arthur inquired. Louis didn’t have to be told twice. He reluctantly had to look up at this man as he nodded.

”Fine then. See you Saturday.” Louis replied coldly. Arthur jogged off as he announced to news to his captain, Niall. Louis caught his eye and mouthed ”screw you” before sauntering to his teammates. Charles was the first to acknowledge him.

”That was so intense. Did to see the look on the blond bastard's face when you scored? Holy, I’ll never see anything funnier in my life!” he raved as he wiped the sweat dripping down his forehead. Louis couldn't help but chuckle.

”Yeah, I guess so. But we need to work harder this week. For next Saturday.”

”Why?”

”Niall’s calling a rematch. I accepted. We need to win this cup and if going against those idiots again is what we have to do, we’ll do it. Go tell the others.” Louis ordered his friend. He complied and in a few moments, you could hear grunts and groans coming from each one of the players.

”Lou, seriously? We can’t just wait until we get paired up with another team?” one of them asked, clearly fed up. Louis shook his head.

”Sorry, lads, but that's the way it is. We already know this team's weaknesses so we’ll have no trouble next week. All we have to do is train harder. We can do it, boys. C’mon, who’s with me?”

“I am,” Charles said, motioning for the others to join him. Eventually, they all agreed with him. The rematch was officially on Saturday.

***

Back home in a small city in West England, Louis’ other friends and the rest of the town were waiting for him to return and declare the winner. As the blue-eyed man stepped off the train, he was swallowed into a crowd of fans.

”Did you win the match?”

”Did anyone get hurt?”

”How was that Horan kid?”

”Have you made any goals?”

Louis was overwhelmed. And when he got overwhelmed, he shouted.

”SHUT UP EVERYONE! Okay, here’s the deal: supposedly Blackford thought they could play better than us so the game was a draw.”

The crowd groaned.

”But, fortunately, we’ll be playing another match on Saturday and we’ll prove them wrong. We’ll win this! For the working men?”

”FOR THE WORKING MEN!” the crowd shouted back in agreement. Charles spoke up.

”For now, let’s just celebrate the fact that we didn’t lose. To the tavern!” he exclaimed, suddenly leading the way to the bar. The others followed eagerly.

***

11:11 was the time and it was safe to say that nearly everyone in the dimly lit tavern was pissed. Drunk, I mean. The fiddlers were playing tunes that made everyone want to live footloose and fancy-free. The ladies were jovially dancing with their improv partners, following the beat and chanting along. It was obvious that at least one or two of these pairs would be waking up in the other’s bed the next morning.

Louis, being the only sober one, was singing along softly and tapping his foot to the beat. If he had to be honest, he was fearing the following week. There would definitely be rumours and threats coming from the surrounding cities and teams. He had to remember that he was always a working man. And that was the problem. The lower class couldn’t even play football for competition because it was a ”rich man’s sport”. Now that the rules were changed, The Knightsmen could join the list of teams. That didn’t stop the constant berating from the elevated class. Saying that he wasn't good enough and actually banning his team from entering the cup for some time was the worst of it. So when Louis declared at 12 a.m. on a lazy Tuesday evening in his shared rented house that he detested the wealthy and privileged, he wasn't kidding. It would take a whole village to convince him that the rich were somewhat pleasant. A whole village.

”...and then she said she’d see me tomorrow. Isn't that great, Loulou? I’m gettin’ me a lady.” Charles slurred against his friend's shoulder. They were walking home from the bar at around 1:00 in the morning and Charles was slumped against Louis, his lanky body looking like a ragdoll’s. The shorter one had to endure listening to his comrade’s drunk thoughts the whole way home.

”Really, now?”

”Yep. She’s a jam.” Charles sighed, his somehow wet blond hair flopping in the slight breeze. Louis rolled his eyes.

”Yeah, yeah, yeah, I get it. You’re in love. Now focus on the game. You need to get to sleep as soon as we get home. We’re training today.”

”Today?”

”Yeah. It's about 1 a.m.”

As the two reached the house, Charles made a show of stumbling inside and shouting, “MAEVE, WE’RE HOME!” Louis slapped him upside the head. Maeve was the woman they were renting their house from.

”You 𝙞𝙙𝙞𝙤𝙩. You’ll wake her. Let's get to bed, you need to sleep.” he pushed him all the way up the stairs and into their bedroom.

”To bed.” Louis said before settling in his twin bed. Charles mirrored the action and made another show of getting his shoes off and getting under his own sheets. Then, the lights went off.

”Hey, Louis?” he heard his friend call from the other side of the room.

”What do you want, Char?” he called back.

”Some men were talking at the bar.”

”All men were talking, Charles.”

”No, I mean, some blokes were saying that all working men couldn't play anymore.”

”Really?” Louis was getting madder with every word.

”Yeah. Except us though. Apparently, we’re just that good.” Charles was sounding less intoxicated and more serious. Louis’ blood was boiling. He refused to believe this but Charles made it sound convincing.

”Who said this?”

”I don't know. I’ve never seen them before. They looked almost... 𝙧𝙞𝙘𝙝.” Charles mumbled before falling asleep, his face facing the wall. Louis followed in the identical bed after an hour of deep thoughts. He didn’t want to believe it. He didn’t. Niall Horan was such a crook.

***

”So you’re serious about this? You can’t cancel the matches. They’ve gone too deep into the tournament.”

”Have you seen the statistics? We can’t let the working men play anymore. They’re simply taking the game away from us. We started the game, we can’t let others take it away. Especially the working class.” Arthur stated at the dining table.

It was dinner at the Horan’s estate, and it was announced that the lower class wouldn't be playing in the Cup anymore. Arthur’s spouse, as well as Niall’s, didn’t exactly agree.

”Niall, you agreed to this?” Jennie inquired. Her husband nodded.

”Seriously? You talked this through and everything?”

Niall repeated the action. ”We have to keep the game clean. If the poor are sweeping the game away how will that playback on us? The ones who can actually afford a ball?”

”It doesn't matter. They worked hard to be where they are and now you’re taking it from them. How will 𝙩𝙝𝙖𝙩 playback on you?” Jennie argued before pushing away from the table and storming off. Arthur’s wife, Adelaide followed.

”Women.” Arthur chuckled. Niall did the same.

”Why do they always think that acting out and arguing with men will solve their problems?” Niall said, ”it’s childish.”

”Childish indeed.” Arthur agreed. They ate the rest of their dinner while joking about the less fortunate.

***

It was a mundane Wednesday afternoon. The birds were chirping, the streets were busy and Louis was arguing with his manager about a classist rich man who shouldn't get his way.

”James, I’m telling you, this is mad! That Horan shouldn't have to tell us what to do anymore! Just because he’s in the Football Association Board doesn't mean he should have the right to kick us off!” he rambled, pacing in front of the wood desk that separated him from his authority. Mr. Corden shook his head.

”I’m sorry, but there is literally nothing I can do. Once the Board makes a decision, it can be very difficult to get them to change their minds.” James said as slow as can be. Louis wasn't giving up though. He easily found a loophole.

”You said ’it can’.”

”What?”

”You said ’it can be’, ” Louis started, ”which means you can, it’s just difficult.”

”What are you going on about?” James raised an eyebrow.

Louis had a sly smile on his face. ”How long does it take to get to London?”

***

”He WHAT?!” Niall boomed from his office. Arthur took a step back.

”It’s true, Ni. He’s here and he wants to talk to you. He says a game of pool would be nice to settle things. To be honest, he looks like he has quite the proposal.”

Niall rubbed his temples and huffed. ”Fine. Send him here.”

Next thing he knew, he was face to face with the one person he despised the most at that moment: Louis Tomlinson. He was dressed in a grey suit that brought out his eyes with a top hat of the same colour. His hair was gelled and combed back into a quiff and he even had a cane to top it off. If Niall had just met this man now he would've believed he had over three mansions in Cheshire. Louis certainly dressed for the occasion.

”M’name’s Louis, but you already know that. Nice to meet you this fine Friday,” Louis stretched his small hand out towards the man behind the desk. Niall took it into his own hesitantly. He made a mental note to wash it after the unexpected visit.

”Enchanted. I’m going to take a wild guess and say that this is about the decision to eliminate the lower class. If this is the case you can most certainly take your high horse and le-”

”But Mr. Horan, wouldn’t that just be plain rude? I came to justify my reasonings not argue. Can’t you allow that?” Louis reasoned, cocking his head to the side. Niall swore if he wasn’t raised to be so nice he’d throw his shoes at this bloke’s unblemished face.

”Fine. You said pool, didn’t you?”

Louis nodded.

”Follow me then.”

***

Louis was winning the game of pool and it was only making Niall angrier with every flick of his wrist.

”So you see, I think it would be better if you shared the game, ” Louis stated as he watched Niall knock a striped ball into a hole. Niall was solids.

”I don’t get why you came all the way here just to talk me out of this. It’s not going to happen. I don’t even know why you’re so cross with me. Your team is still in the Cup.”

”That’s only because we have a game tomorrow and kicking us off will make you look like a fool.” Louis countered. He knocked a striped ball into a hole. Niall scowled behind him.

”Fine. What if a modified your ’proposal’. If Blackford wins the game, you and the lower class will be withdrawn from the Cup for this and all future games.” Niall negotiated. Louis trained his eyes on the younger man.

”And what happens if the Knightsmen win?” he inquired. Niall only snickered.

”Let’s say you do win. I’ll finally have you shut up by letting the working men back onto the Board. Whaddya say?” Niall added to his deal, now him being the one to stretch his hand out to shake. Louis slapped it on his own.

”Fine. But if you go around this like the rich bastard you are-”

”Oh, you know I won't. Trust me.” Niall was smirking evilly now.

”Just you wait, Horan, ” he warned before knocking another striped ball into a hole and taking his leave.

***

Just like the week before, it was a tense Saturday afternoon. The rich, the poor and the in-between were anticipating this game. Even the girl from the bar was there, which Charles was thankful for. The news had spread like wildfire and in just under 12 hours every football fan had heard about the agreement. Louis teammates including Charles were talking him out of it, saying that they were no match when it came to something like this. But Louis had high hopes. He held his head up high and refused to think anything other than the fact that the Knightsmen were going to win the match. It was inevitable at this point. Louis had been working his team like a madman, making sure they understood that the game was a serious one. And now that this deal had been initiated, it was even more serious. More intense.

Blackford came out in their striped shirts and shined boots. A majority of the bleachers were up and chanting their motto: ”Raise the standard so others can’t reach!”

”Haughty. Just haughty. I can’t think of another word.” Charles muttered under his breath. Louis heard and if he didn’t feel like screaming he would’ve agreed.

It was his team’s turn to get out onto the field now. Just like last week, a handful of spectators got up cheered, mostly for Louis.

The two captains stepped up to the middle.

”Well, Horan, we meet again. Good luck.”

Niall chortled, ”Luck? I don't need luck.”

”Getting a little cocky now, aren't we?” Louis taunted.

”No, I'm just that good.” Niall winked before the whistle made its telltale noise.

The game was tied like last time except this time it was 1-1. Niall kept barking orders at his teammates to try and get them to work harder at the tiebreaking goal. On the other hand, Louis was using encouraging comments to get his team going. Right now Charles was controlling the ball. Dribbling forward and towards the goal. Unfortunately, someone from the other team caught up and trampled him over. Louis went after the caper to challenge him.

”You’re that Tomlinson kid aren't you?” the adversary asked while playing keep-away with the latter.

”Yeah, what about me?”

”You better start remembering how good it sounds before the whole team ruins it for you, ” he snickered. By then, Louis was seeing red. He ran ahead and shoved the other man out of the way and silently prayed that God would forgive him for that minor sin. He made a breakaway with the heavy leather ball, running like no one had ever seen him before. Cheers and praises could be heard from the crowd now getting bigger and louder. Even Arthur was quietly hoping Louis wouldn’t disgrace himself in front of everyone.

”C’mon, Lou! Shoot it!” James hollered from the sidelines.

Louis could feel the blood pumping in his veins. It was an electrifying feeling, like he was untouchable. As he came closer to the net, he could only hear the chants of his name. He shot the ball. It went soaring and for those few seconds of silence, Louis swore he felt like he saw his life flash before his eyes. This goal could possibly change how everyone viewed the working class. How pressuring.

The ball flew so quickly that Louis didn’t understand all the yelling and cheering. Then Charles slapped his back, it all made sense. He made the shot. It was a goal.

”LOUIS, YOU DID IT!” Charles cried out for the third time. Almost everyone was yelling ”All hail King Louis!”. He just stood there, revelling in it. The whistle rang through everyone’s ears. The game was over. The Knightsmen won. The working class won. Louis won. Niall approached him soon after.

”I think we had a deal, ” he mumbled. Louis nodded.

”Yeah, yeah we did. Now, I think it’s time you got off your high horse and started sharing the game. C’mon, Horan, like men.”

”Like men.” Niall repeated. He turned and walked away. Most likely in despair. Louis couldn’t care less though.

Because he won.

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