#and i feel like in 2023 if they acted like Nobody at the entire party knows cpr id be mad

[sherbertdab]

Current working theory on The Afterparty is that the cake Edward gave Isabel contained adderall - not enough for a deadly reaction but enough to cause confusion and hyperactivity.

Then when grace gave him adderall later, that was enough to push into a deadly overdose. One of the symptoms of a severe overdose??? Hallucinations.

Technically grace and Isabel did kill him, though it was accidental

[burning-omen]

Kinktober Day 1: Breeding + Jason Todd

Jason Todd x male reader

Kinktober 2023 list | Day 2 | Ao3

(a/n; “hey it's September 30th, right? Tf you mean ‘it's october 1st’ no the fuck it no- AHHHHHH” me about three hours ago realizing that I never finished THE FIRST DAY of kinktober )

Summary: You’re a photographer at the Wayne Family events, after meeting Jason by chance they start growing closer

Warning: Horny Jason, horny reader, top!reader, bottom!jason, Jason moans like a bitch, rude rich people, pillow princess + brat Jason Todd, unprotected sex, breeding, not beta read lol.

Word count: 3.4k

To the shock of everyone involved, Jason Todd attended all of the Wayne Galas, not because he liked them- obviously. No, these things were horrible and stuffy and he hated every last person in attendance. Well, almost every last person. Bruce had hired a photographer a few months back, the first few events that you photographed you were mostly in the background, taking wide shots of the entire party, only recently did you start to mingle with the crowd more.

You met Jason a few weeks back as you tried to navigate through a pushy crowd of rich people who, to no one surprise, all thought they were the most important person there. You got pushed into Jason by a man who looked like he could have been British royalty in the 1800s, he sneered at you like a cartoon villain before walking away. You'd been overly apologetic that day, having nearly knocked the drink out of his hand. He was fine though, if not slightly enamored, you looked nice, but out of place, your clothes weren't quite up to Wayne Gala standards, before he could ask what you were doing here, he noticed the camera hanging from your neck, and offered to be your guide.

He ended up sticking with you for the rest of the night, talking as you took pictures of various people and decor around the event. It made your job a hell of a lot easier, people were quick to bump into you, you weren't rich and therefore weren't fully human to these people, but Jason was one of them, well, he was close enough, and even if he wasn't, if he was just as out of place as you, nobody was going to disrespect the host's son.

By the end of the night, you and Jason were on one of the balconies looking over all the photos from that night, and eventually some of your other work.

Eventually, you did have to leave, Bruce was paying for your ride and you really didn't want him to have to wait any longer.

You only got closer after that, every event that the Waynes hosted, you were there, and on your tail- as always- was Jason.

Your relationship didn't take a turn until the last party the Wayne threw, this one wasn't a charity but a birthday party for Bruce's friend, Oliver Queen, who insisted he needed to have it in Gotham. And even though Bruce gave a perfect speech regarding their friendship, you couldn't help but hear the irritation behind it. The night went on as usual, with Jason acting as your shadow as you weed through the crowd.

Your end of the night ritual is the only thing that changed, as you were showing Jason the pictures from tonight, he leaned over and rested his head on your shoulder, an odd act from the man, considering the most he'd touched you at this point was him putting a hand on your shoulder or tapping you to get your attention.

“Tired?” you asked jokingly.

“No,” he said but didn't elaborate.

As you continued to shuffle through the pictures you could feel him nuzzling into your neck. You let out a short, nervous laugh.

“Are you drunk?”

He hummed quietly, then laughed, “No, I'm just…”

He didn't continue, just pressing further into you, you gave up on showing him the photos for now, instead carding your fingers through his hair. Feeling just how different the white streak felt from the rest of his hair, most of his hair was thick and smooth, running through your fingers with ease. The white part was thick too, but it just felt like air, so light and delicate that you could barely feel it against your fingers.

You didn't stop until you felt his lips press against your neck, again and again as he hummed in contempt.

“Jason…” you muttered but didn't move to stop him.

He eventually moved up to your face- your cheeks, your jaw, your lips- with his kisses. It was only when you made a move and kissed him back did things escalate.

You ended up fumbling around on the floor with him, then in the hall, and on the wall next to his bedroom wall, and eventually in his bedroom. Which resulted in the most embarrassing walk of shame you've ever experienced as you had to run past your literal boss having breakfast with the rest of his family- he looked just as shocked as you imagined he would. Jason's older brother, Dick, made a comment that made Jason shout at him, you couldn't hear it with how hard your heart was beating in your ears.

You expected everything to end after that, your friendship with Jason, your job, your reputation as a photographer.

But to your surprise, the moment the front door closed behind you, Jason grabbed your face and pulled you in for a kiss, sweet and slow, nowhere near as frantic and lust-filled as they were the night before.

You started getting together outside of events after that, he stayed at your apartment most days, because ‘he liked being surrounded by you’. You learned a few things about him too, a big one being that he was a bottom, not just a bottom. A total pillow princess as well. He’ll flirt and tease all day and night long, but the moment you turn around to do the same to him, he becomes so pliant, letting you move him how you like, touch him how you liked, and fuck him how you liked.

Considering how close you'd become with his son, you figured you'd never get a call from Bruce to do another job. But you did, and despite feeling a bit out of place at first you eventually got back into it. Jason was your shadow as always, whispering things he definitely shouldn't in your ear, making it hard to focus.

“When was the last time we fucked, honestly?”

“Babe, I'm working,” you said calmly.

“It’s a genuine question.”

You sighed, “about a week ago, when the power went out.”

He only chuckled, still leaning down in you ear.

“There’s gotta be a broom closet somewhere around here-”

“Jason, stop it-”

“I want you to fuck me right up against the door, let everybody hear me while you-”

“Jason-”

“Jason!”

Looking over you saw Dick, who was probably the most outwardly supportive of your relationship with Jason out of everyone in his family. The presence of his brother shut him up quickly, his face turning a bit red. You and Jason wandered around the party with Dick for a while, you were having a great time, taking photos as Dick told to funny little stories about Jason.

Jason, however, wasn't having a great time. He’d planned to flirt with you all night then get fucked so hard that his brain stopped working, then getting pampered by you for the rest of the night, unfortunately, Dick had taken an interest in you for the night, purely platonic of course, but it was constant, and even though Dick has definitely seen Jason at his worst, it'd be really fucking weird if he begged you to fuck him within earshot of his brother. So he held out, frustrated and horny as the party droned on.

By the time guests started leaving you'd been informed of every little embarrassing thing Jason has ever done- including stealing the wheels off Bruce's car, some stories had to be left out or changed for obvious reasons, but outside of that, you were caught up on Jason's embarrassment timeline. You could practically feel Jason stewing behind you, horny, frustrated, and, embarrassed all at once.

“I think it's time for us to go, if we stay any longer Jason's brain is going to start leaking out of his ears.”

You said your goodbyes to Dick and turned to Jason, who was glaring after the man as he walked away.

“We can go now.”

The fumble up to his bedroom was exactly that, a fumble as you clumsily avoided the lingering guest, and as you took a few minutes to worship the exposed pieces of his body on the stairs with your hands and mouth, only moving when you heard footsteps.

You didn't carry Jason into the room, but you might as well have with the way you controlled his every move. He fell back onto his bed, spreading his legs subconsciously even though he was still fully dressed. The smile on his face only grew wider when you yanked him by his now loose tie, pulling him back up to you, pressing a kiss on his lips that only got more heated with every passing second. Kneeling on the bed, his legs wrapped around your waist almost instantly, you could feel the heels of the balmorals Bruce had bought him digging into the back of your thigh.

He pulled back, flopping down on the bed. Jason's hands, however steady they were before, became utterly useless in a matter of seconds as he failed to unbutton his pants several times before giving up, wordlessly resting his hands above his head, staring up at you expectantly. The term ‘pillow princess’ came to mind for a brief second as you unbuttoned them for him. Purposefully ignoring the tight bulge in his pants that was nearly demanding your attention.

“Come on, y/n,” he muttered, his voice as deep as ever.

Slowly rocking his hips against yours in a desperate, yet short lived, attempt at getting you to act. You were by no means cruel, and considering his little plan for the night hadn't fallen through, you indulged him. Lifting his still-clothed thigh up to your shoulder, you had to do a bit of maneuvering to get his pants down to his ankles, Jason was entirely unhelpful, you'd be convinced he was a rag doll if it weren't for his inability to stop fucking squirming.

The way his cock twitched in his pants showed you just how desperate he was, thrusting up against nothing, a short whine coming from somewhere deep in his throat as he started up at you with those pretty blue eyes.

You ran your hands over the exposed skin of his thigh, leaning down and kissing them, leaving little bruises and bites before switching to the next. His gaze was intense, almost glaring, but the whines and whimpers he let out told you that he was just desperate.

Then, unexpectedly, you slid your hand all the way down the inside of his thigh, feeling goosebumps rise in your wake, Jason figured you'd stop just before his cock, you liked teasing him like that, liked taking him apart slowly. But that's apparently not what you had in mind tonight, he only realized that when you wrapped your fingers around his cock, the fabric of his boxers tightened along with your grip. He whined, bucking up into your hand.

Far faster than he expected, you stroked him through his pants, the texture of them and the squeezing pressure your hand provided sending shivers up and down his spine. He gripped the bed sheets as you settled into a pleasant rhythm, fast and tight around his sensitive cock.

His eyes hung low, squeezing shut when you brushed over the tip.

Jason came quickly, hips sputtering and muttering incoherently as he did, cum sleeping through black fabric, drenching your hand and the boxers.

You pulled back, putting your hands back on his thighs, watching his chest rise and fall rapidly as he came down.

Hands still gripping the sheets, he sat there and waited, waiting for you to do something, you were in control after all. But you didn't, you just watched him, his chest rising and falling, cum splattered on his underwear and just under his belly button, the bruises and bites littering his thighs.

“Y/n..” he muttered, hard and horny all over again.

You laughed, “yes?”

He scooted closer to you until you hips were firmly pressed against his ass. Even then, you could here him muttering ‘come on’ over and over against under his breath.

“Speak up, you have to tell me what you want.”

He glared, a real harsh glare that you knew was born out of frustration. He should have known you'd be like this, for a moment he thought he'd really gotten off the hook, but you never just let him cum, you never just fucked him, no, he had to beg for it, as though him presenting himself to you wasn't begging enough.

“Just,” suddenly unable to find his words, Jason groaned, “do something!”

You let out another short laugh, then asked, “Something like what?”

The urge to kick you suddenly emereged.

“Anything, please I-” his hands went from the bed sheets to his face, covering his eyes as his brain once again failed to produce the right words.

You leaned down, pressing kisses down his throat and the pieces of his chest that we're exposed.

After a moment you asked, “How about you tell me what you wanted earlier, you seemed to have a lot of ideas then.”

He shifted, his hands finding the bed again, seems like his mind was racing, as his eyes were almost completely unfocused and blush rose on his cheeks with every second that passed, you gave him a moment to sort himself out.

He spoke suddenly, his voice coming out with some force, “I need you to fuck me until I can’t take it anymore, like you did when the power went out and we didn’t have anything else to do but fuck over and over again, I need you to fuck me like that again, I want you to cum in me so many times that it drips out of my ass and ruins the bed- ah- and I- I can’t- I can’t fucking think with you grinding against me like that so can you please just hurry up and do something!”

A wide grin spread out on your face, even though you barely comprehended that you were grinding your bulge into his ass, it was good to see how a bit of gentle pressure was already making him writhe.

You pulled back, before he could stop complaining you flipped the giant of a man onto his stomach with a hard shove. You heard him moan as he bounced against the bed, he liked being manhandled, but you figured that one out a while ago.

Pulling his boxers down to his knees, fully ready to prep him, only to see the familiar shiny glint of lube covering his hole. Without thinking, you pressed a finger in, feeling just how easily he took it you almost laughed.

“You take all the fun out of prepping you..”

“Shut up and fuck me!”

His desperate, panting tone was enough for you to cave, even as he glared back at you. It took you a second to get out of your clothes, well really just your pants, belt, and boxers, but it still took longer than Jason would have ever liked, again, bratty pillow princess of the century.

By the time you let your cock prod against his hole, he'd grabbed a pillow and rested it under his head, still turning to face you as you slowly pushed in. His resolve didn't last long, broken by a long moan as the head of your cock slipped into his hole, already about to thrust a hole into the bed sheets.

You grabbed his hips, pressing them hard into the bed, he stopped moving, an undeniable whimper coming from him.

You pressed further, barely even half way in and you could feel him squeezing around you, you pressed down until your hips were pressed together.

He panted and moaned, his body flexing, then relaxing. You waited for him to give you a sign that he was okay, and when he did you waited more, just to tease him. He realized this a couple of seconds later, dropping his head into the pillow with a frustrated groan, you're surprised he didn't turn around and cuss you out at that exact moment.

Even though you probably shouldn't have, you pulled out slow, and slammed back into him with more force than you meant to, the bed dipped beneath you both and Jason let put a wild moan. You probably should have gone slow with him, made him cum over and over again before filling him yourself, but you didn't, you had a bit of an epiphany while you had Jason fully wrapped around your cock. You were really, really fucking horny. With someone as pretty as Jason it was always so tempting to take him about the slow way, teasing, drawing orgasm after orgasm out of him, but with some that felt as good as Jason does, it's pretty easy to let that idea fly out the window in turn of pounding him into the mattress.

So you did.

Watching him claw and bite at the pillow beneath him in an attempt to bring some stability back. His whole body getting forced forward with every thrust.

Loud, almost pained, moans and the sound of skin hitting skin filled the room. Even with the pillow shoved into his mouth he was still impossibly loud. You could feel just how warm he’d gotten, his skin was hot and sweaty, and in your mind, you'd hardly even done anything to him yet.

Little tears prickled in his eyes, he squeezed them closed tightly. Taking your cock wasn't anything new to him but fuck, sometimes you could be rough. Not that he didn't enjoy it, no, if he had less pride he’d be screaming at the top of his lungs how good it felt.

He could already tell where bruises were going to form, he'd have burning red hand prints on his waist for sure, and an odd one on his ass and inner thighs, hickies and smaller bruises would litter practically every surface his body offered for sure.

Leaning down, you thrust hitting deeper and deeper, you kissed along his shoulders and back, trying to soothe at least a little of the hurt you were causing. You didn't but it felt nice anyways.

Jason's vision went a little spotty when he came again, you never stopped fucking him and he really didn't want you to. His cum soaked into the sheets beneath him, he could feel the sticky sheets cling to his stomach.

You followed soon after, shooting cum deep inside of him, just like he wanted. He whimpered quietly at the feeling, he could still feel you fucking him with your softened cock, trusting much slower, much to his dismay. He knew you were just waiting to get hard again but he really didn't like waiting.

It didn't take long for you to get hard again, you were still fully inside your beautiful boyfriend's beautiful ass so it definitely wasn't difficult. You continued pounding into him like nothing happened, he didn't say anything either, other than incoherent word between moans. Even though he didn't have to wait long, he missed you fucking him already.

You slammed into him hard and he went cross-eyed for a moment, letting his moans flow freely, louder and more satisfied than before.

“Right there-” he panted, “again, please-”

You couldn't deny him, not when he begged like that, you angled you hips so you'd slam against that spot again and again until he was staining the sheets for a second, then third time.

He made it too easy to want to fuck him.

His body was nearly limp by his fourth orgasm, you pulled out, he let out a little noise, unable to do much about it. You flipped him onto his back, seeing the mess covering his cock and stomach, his eyes tracked your every move, but not many where made, you ran your hands down his thighs just like you'd found before, then shoved your cock back into his mess of a hole.

You chased your own pleasure, dragging an exhausted Jason along with you for the ride. His hands gripped onto you, pulling you down and holding you tight, letting his airy moans fill your ears.

You came soon after, with him clawing at your back and clinging to you like a damn koala. You stayed inside him for a long moment, waiting for him to remember that he had to let you go.

When he did, you leaned back, watching yourself pull out of him, your cock covered in cum and lube. Cum dripped out of his hole rapidly, a puddle forming and growing on the bed, you laughed, still a bit winded.

“Hey, looks like you got your wish, these sheets are defiantly ruined.”

He laughed tiredly before pulling you back down into his arms.

[storiesbyrhi]

I just re-watched season 2 of Stranger Things and here's the takeaway for me - stop me if you've heard this one before ;) - whoever I was when I watched it in 2017 is not the girl you see before you. I have a wayyyy different interpretation of the characters and the show.

(Season 1 thoughts here.)

'MADMAX' was the coolest way to introduce Max. She is absolutely as rad as I remember. I'm not entirely sure they knew why they wrote Max into the show... Was it to give Lucas something to do (which is shitty for his character); was it to add another girl (yay tokenism); was it a setup for later seasons (I might accept that because not all new characters have to be the star of the show)? Who knows! What I do know is that Sadie Sink really gave Max teeth in an otherwise... eh storyline.

I forgot Nancy and Steve went to Barb's parents for dinners. Makes me so fucking sad. The entire Barb situation is tragic. Idk if it was a reaction to the 'Justice for Barb' movement but regardless, having some follow-up around that was so important. Nancy's trauma being (somewhat) explored was great too.

Jesus H. Christ Noah Schnapp can fucking act. Like yeah, Sadie Sink killed season 4 but Noah Schnapp season 2 is incredible. And he's thirteen! And the intensity and nuance in his performance are wild! !!! !!!

I remember being so charmed by the Dustin and Steve pair-up. Still am. Still am.

"He likes it cold." Yikes. Like I said about season 1, it's cool watching this through a Vecna lens. It feels plausible he was the plan for the show all along.

My memory of Dart was a nice one. Turns out that I forgot he killed Mews. Fuck that guy Dart. He is not my homie. RIP Mews. You deserved better.

I remember the demodogs being more dog-like. They truly be serving Silent Hill, huh?

Unpopular opinion but I don't hate the Kali storyline. I can see how I thought it sucked in 2017; waiting all that time for season 2 to finally come out, then getting that. I probably wanted more action and group bonding. However, I like that we got to see a) an alternative outcome for El had she not found Mike and Hopper, and b) El gain some autonomy in her search for history and home. It makes her choice to be Hopper's daughter more meaningful. The storyline also broadened the danger and cruelty of Brenner and co., and gave a legit setting for El to learn more about her powers.

RIP Bob. My memory of you was correct and you truly are a hero. Casting was A+ because nobody thought they'd violently kill a LOTR/Goonies star in the 80s themed show.

Watching the entire gang in the Byers house in episode 8 was so cool. That sweeping shot of all of them poised ready for the demodog attack... chefs kiss. I am now even angrier that they were all separated in season 4.

There's so much talk about cool television dads. Din Djarin this. Bandit Heeler that. Joel Miller who. Bob Belcher why. Where is the hype for Joyce Byers, who once again proves to be parent of the motherfucking year?! Are you kidding me?!

Knowing that the show goes on to call Mike the heart of the party is a real kick in the teeth. Will is so utterly the heart of this family and found family.

So, I never fell in love with Steve. Not a Stevie girlie. But, ah, this rewatch has me feeling all kinds of things. The fucking character development on this boy?! Might have to branch out into some Steeeeeedie x Reader fics. Shiiiit.

I. Love. Nancy. She. Is. So. Smart. Give. Her. More. Guns. And the scene with Dustin at the dance still breaks my heart. I love her, your honor.

Murray was exactly how I remembered.

Hopper was wayyyy better this season. The "sometimes I think I'm a black hole" speech was fantastic. Him telling El about Sarah, finally, is so healing for them both.

My opinions about Jonathan and Steve changed so much between 2016 and 2023, so I went into this with an open mind re: Billy. However, here's the thing. He's racist. Racists just aren't babes. No matter how else his behaviour and personality are contextualised, he will always be a racist so it's a hard no for me. Yes, Billy is the victim of an abusive parent, but that can only be used to explain some of his behaviour. Not all of it. Nor can it be used to excuse some of his behaviour. Nothing that has happened to Billy can justify the way Max is terrified when she hears his car. She is terrified of him. I'm not saying they don't love each other in a very complicated messy way, but when I try 'redeem' (for lack of a better word) season 2 Billy, I can't. Billy deserved a safe and good home, deserved better than what life gave him, but he'll continue to be a blocked tag for me. I do wanna say that I think he's an important character for a lot of people, and that is so valid. That's why I don't go around posting shit about him 24/7. I'll probably have a lot to say about him in season 3 too, because hey guess what, sexualising a teenager is weird as hell @ grown up adult women living in Hawkins.

At the end of season 2 I am so keen for some more El/Will friendship, Max development, and Jopper.

And I'm onto season 3. (Edit: here's the link!)

This has been a Stranger Things Rhi-Watch.

[pangeasoftware]

every thought I can put together about my life right now

im pilled out right now over a back injury. i'm 26 years old. i've seen myself become a progressively worse and more wanton person over the last year and it's definitely kicked into high gear the last 6 months. any semblance of routine has left my life, i'm off my meds because they were making me have psychotic delusions about how the west is trying to trigger the biblical apocalypse eventually culminating in israel invading gaza & the west bank & building the third temple in 2025, 77 years after the founding of the israeli state etc. etc. (this was 2-3 years ago, funny enough these thoughts have completely taken a backseat as things intensify.) and i was very principled and altruistic. I was working out 3+ times a week i was cooking. I was at peace with all of my interpersonal relationships and making friends at a steady pace. I finished a song. All of my friends left town when I hit 26. I visited some of them after the fact but got drunk and tried to break into their place because my gf left her purse there before they ditched us and they got mad at me and we haven't talked since. last two months i've been going to parties but only really hitting it off with like, young girls which is not who i want to be surrounding myself with because there is no common ground outside of a party setting and it is just kind of sus behavior, also probably an indicator of where i'm at in terms of maturity, most people my age or older are like well known in the community or already have friends or talk about stuff at their college-educated jobs that I don't know about or look at me weird for how im acting or what I choose to talk about because i'm not very bright or plugged in. I started really phoning it in at my job where i'm supposed to be taking care of vulnerable people. at this point i spend probably most of my workday on my phone. i used to be really on top of things. I don't do it out of a sense of entitlement or anti-employer principle or anything it's entirely a lack of self control and nobody's there to stop me. I'm going to community college classes where i'm always the oldest person there who isn't retired. i've been going to these entry-level classes for almost a decade and it makes me feel really stupid. My relationship with my partner who i love and have been with for also almost a decade has been better lately, but over these last six months at times it has been worse than it has ever been, solely because I can't figure out what I want and can't appreciate what I have. I have sunk into a deep pit of lonely indulgence in response to feelings of anxiety about the passage of time (meaning: taking stimulants to feel better, drinking all the time, jacking off, eating eating eating eating eating). I think what happened is that the

passage of time finally became impossible to ignore. from 2020-2023 my life was frozen in a bucolic crystalline lattice of domesticity that i had a sense of gratitude for that felt limitless, unending in the same way that I had an endless stretch of time on the clock. I felt ahead of the game in a lot of respects. I had found the person that I want to spend the rest of my life with, every day I was making meaningful connections with new people, I had done my time at a job I found tolerable and sufficiently compensatory and was making the transition to an even better one. I finished a song or two. I started getting tired of the patterns of discontent, then pleasure, then fear, then gratitude that tessellated to form my interface to the things in front of me and asked to be put on a mood stabilizer. After weeks of steady unease i forgot two doses two days in a row and plunged into a deep and unfamiliar well of fear and resentment. Every thought I have had about the passage of time over the last three to six to eight to eleven years aligned to a point- I missed the boat/I am not where I should be at this point in time/I have wasted the entirety of my youth, the wick has submerged/the time has passed for every fantasy I had about what I could be or do or create or who I could surround myself with when i was "older," "grown up," or "had the time to develop myself."/there is no longer a single thing to look forward to, because you have missed all of the inflection points to pivot your life toward where you wanted it it to be. Thoughts I had when I was 22 and wasn't watching the clock as i should have been - "if i am still in school by the time i am 26 [something will have gone terribly wrong - this is a state of failure]." I think that maybe what was sustaining me through the years of wandering inaction/fulfilled contentment was the thought

that I would always have time to do the other things, these other lives aren't mutually exclusive to experiencing this life. this is maybe one of the biggest copes I have ever engaged with, it is a thought I have

maybe hundreds of times a day. I can still do the other thing later, I want to do this right now, this is easy. I can do both things. I can indulge myself and I can be the person I want to be. I can waste as much time as I like and still look back at the end of the day and be happy with how I spent it.

Every day is a clean slate for me, there is no time like the morning because it represents a perfect, unblemished chunk of time ready for me to: 1) ideally set my affairs right and fulfill my ambitions 2) actually thoughtlessly devour, only to wonder what happened when faced with the empty plate in front of me. i think this pattern follows to every other ephemeral thing in my life. the realization of potential is a little death every time/a completely lossy process. it doesn't matter that something real became of it, it was better before it condensed because it represented so many different possibilities that could not coincide.

I don't have anybody to "look up to" anymore. Nearly anyone who as accomplished the things that I want to do, especially creatively, got it done when they were my age or younger. The time has passed and there is now a concrete veil between my path and theirs, because I spent my time differently. it's a really bad feeling. I put a lot of effort and thought into the idea of making music. It's all i want to do when I don't have the time, and the last thing that I want to do when I do have the time. I was okay with resigning it to a hobby for a number of reasons. I was at peace with the fact that I will not be able to make the things I want to make, I felt like I fully understood that there were other, much, much more important things to do with my life. I understood that the casual relationship I had with it was what kept it fulfilling and healthy. but these I think were also held in place by the understanding that "there will always be time later." My father is a failed musician, a chronic abuser, a man who suffers regular bouts of religious psychosis, and is shitting in diapers because of his drinking habit because of a lot of this. that's another thing that kept me at a safe distance from these ambitions. I didn't want to grow bitter and resentful of the actual people and places and things that made up my life because they stand in opposition to a [idealized, meaning holding infinite internal complexity and potential as discussed earlier] configuration where I got what I wanted out of myself creatively.

I'm at a point where I don't really know what comes next. I got about as far as I had mapped out, and what happened in that time didn't span the entirety of the self-conflicting imaginary that mapping consisted of, and i feel cheated because of it. because of this feeling, I'm getting mixed up and trying to push buttons because I want to feel some kind of agency in my life and i think i'm going to get taken out if i succumb to that impulse.

[ratnco]

How to Kill a Great Film in 2021

Good Films die every day in Hollywood. Contracts are written and thrown away, writers can be hired and fired as fast as old drafts can be thrown away and rewrites can be made days before production. And when that doesn’t stop a project from being a success, Producers can cut funding at the second to final lap around the track, locations can change, or in more recent cases, the entire world can change. 

But let’s pretend this pandemic isn’t currently still in effect and fast forward to 2023, when cinemas are open again (sadly not for the Cinerama Dome) and a new movie is released once a week and regardless of how much we enjoy it, we get to talk about it. In this fantasy land, let’s talk about the 5 ways you can kill a good movie before, while, or after Production…

Relationship between Director and Producer

Whenever the release of a certain cut of a film that isn’t what the Director intended on releasing makes its way to Theatres, the thing that comes to most people’s minds is ‘Studio Interference’. If you’re an aspiring filmmaker, writer or just a fan of Cinema in general, you’ve heard all of your favourite Filmmakers talk about how much they hate their Producers, you hear horror stories about the un creative old rich man trying to be creative, forcing their bad ideas onto a project and thinking they have creative control because they’re funding it. And a lot of those stories are true, but is that really all? Are Studios really that mean? Even so, there was still a moment where the Producer sat down with the Director and said ‘I like your project, let’s make it.’ So they can’t be that terrible. 

The truth to this problem lies at that meeting. Whatever the problem is that the studio, Director or Crew will find themselves knee deep in down the road, its source will be born on the desk where that meeting takes place. The Producer may have bad, unoriginal ideas and is just out to make bank on your project, and you may be an unknown indie-filmmaker just trying to find an outlet for your talented voice, but as different as these two forces are, they need each other to survive. A Producer needs a film to be successful in every theatre in the country in order to keep their business alive, and the Filmmaker needs to successfully capture their vision onto screen so they can share it with audiences around the globe, and that won’t happen without Studio Funding, and the Film won’t be made without a Filmmaker. 

So what happens if you don’t get along, if the Producer changes their mind on the casting for the main character, or the third act of the script? Do you just say ‘Yes’ or ‘Fuck off!’? It’s up to the Filmmaker, but either answer won’t produce a good Film. 

Another thing you’ll probably find in common with any Director whose movies have suffered a great deal of box office failure to what they claim is Studio interference, is that they hate producers, they say mean things about them during interviews and they establish bad relationships with Hollywood, and more often than not, their line up of upcoming projects grows thinner and thinner as the years go by. 

A Filmmaker shouldn’t be surprised when they have a hard time getting their films made when this is how they treat the people funding them. As attached as you are to the movie you’re making, getting your film properly released involves your key role in a game that must be played, and played extremely well. If you have a disagreement with somebody, is the most wise next step to scream in their face? No. If you’d like somebody to see your point of view, it’s done only by a genuine back and forth dialogue, allowing both parties to level with one another, acknowledging each other’s perspectives and reaching a common goal they can both agree on. 

A Filmmaker can still receive these requests and still say no and still have a great relationship with their Producers, it all comes down to the trust you establish with your collaborators, and yes, they are collaborators. 

Not Getting Final Cut

Reason number two is exclusively caused by reason number 1; Getting the Final Cut for your film means that you alone have creative control over what the version of the movie you’ll one day be showing to audiences will look like. If you’re passionate about how you're going to eventually show your story to an audience, this is pretty important, as failure to do so will result in a version of your film reaching audiences that you did not play much of a role in. 

Nobody wants somebody to take something they’ve made and turn it into something else entirely. If you’d like to see a prime example of this, watch Natural Born Killers. One of the most talked about Tarantino films isn’t even really a Tarantino film. ‘You don’t fuck with my material’, Quentin Tarantino told Oliver Stone when handing over his original script, to which Oliver and his team responded by taking his characters and plot and flipping it on its head, creating a new film that doesn’t even come close to resembling what Tarantino originally wrote, to which Tarantino responded by requesting his name be taken off of the writer’s credits.

How the Director Controls a Set. 

When a Film is made, hundreds of people are involved other than the Filmmakers, Producers and their cast, there’s also a massive crew who must be considered. If you’re a Director, all of these people are working for you, which means you’re also responsible for feeding them, managing how fast or how slow they work, and their overall mindsets while making a movie and if you at any point assume that these decisions play a key role in the result of the final product, just walk into any retail store and see what happens when a Staff is treated poorly by its managers. 

I’m glad I brought up Quentin Tarantino, because the Writer/Director has a very interesting rule on all of his sets: No Cellphones. At the door of a Tarantino set, a ‘Checkpoint Charlie’ will retrieve your device and give it back to you at the end of the day or in case of emergency. On Top of that, there are speakers planted on set, blasting music, chosen by Tarantino for the cast and crew to listen to while working. What results is a very chatty cast and crew, forced to engage each other in between takes or set ups, rehearsing lines and enjoying and embracing the atmosphere rather than trying to escape it. QT also has another very interesting rule: No Sleeping. But breaking this rule won’t result in death, only something worse… Floating around the internet is a photo of Brad Pitt and other Cast members of past Tarantino Films with a giant purple Dildo held against their sleeping faces on set. Morale is key. 

Marketing

When shooting's wrapped, editing is almost complete, and everyone involved is very excited and thrilled that the release of their movie has met and maybe even exceeded expectations, now it’s time to release it. But to make sure that goes smoothly, you’ll need to advertise it so that people will know about it. 

Which means it’s time to make your trailer. Making a trailer involves just as much writing as the birth of the Final Draft of your Screenplay.. The Filmmaker has a chance here to control how the future audience of their movie will perceive their story, how they absorb it and how they will use that information to make a decision on whether or not they’ll leave their house to go see it. 

Here’s another place where studio interference may come into play. Say you’ve got a 3 hour long Western Drama that you’re trying to advertise, but the studio says that since this is a slightly more niche genre of cinema, and given the runtime it would be more wise to make the trailer feel rather fast paced and action packed, containing loud and fast music and sounds of gunshots and screaming! That way when people at home view it, they’ll feel excited, their hearts are racing because you've tapped into a very common human emotion that everybody on the planet could respond to: excitement. 

Sure, this approach may sell a lot of seats on opening night, but what will the rest of opening weekend look like? Chances are, pretty blique. Because your Western Drama may indeed be a beautifully executed masterpiece filled with tension and tear jerkers, but the problem you’ll now face is that all of the people who went to see your movie left their houses because they’re big fans of high octane action films and that’s exactly what they were expecting when they came to see your movie. But that’s not what they got, so now they’re upset. 

One thing that a lot of Producers today won’t admit is that a Film may not be for everybody, and that’s okay. Because rather than marketing to a broad selection of people who may or may not like your movie, your Audience will do a better job at championing your Film if you chose to only Market to the people who will want to go see it. Even if these numbers are fewer, if those people really enjoy your movie, they’ll do the rest of the marketing for you, which will get you an even bigger fanbase, which can maybe even turn into a cult following. The long term success of what you release will have a major effect on your ability to control future releases. The battles you fight now will win you the war of your career as a filmmaker. 

As frustrating, controlling and sometimes crazy Hollywood can be to its Talent, at the end of the day, it's only an outlet for voices looking to speak out, it’s a malleable mechanism used by all of us, and without us it wouldn’t survive and vise versa, so we coexist. Any Film can be a great Film, but aspiring talent may not like to hear that talent will only put words on a page or a subject in frame, the true impact of what you create comes down to something as simple as knowing how to talk to people who aren’t like you, a method also referred to as ‘empathy.’ 

By Ezra Crittenden

[modosphere]

Silent Night

Christmas Eve Styles Family Home Malibu, California 2023

“They look so adorable, don’t they?” Rose smiled, appearing next to me. I nodded, turning back to Ed, Dany and Hughie as they stared, unblinking, at the newest range of Power Rangers storm through a skyscraper. It was extremely gushy of me, I knew, but seeing Dany clutch his red Power Ranger in awe made me feel happy. “Looks are so deceiving…” Rose added, making me laugh. She  had that right - especially since Ari had been born, I’d learnt that despite all of the innocent looks, brother and sister were anything but.

Maybe if it didn’t remind me of myself and Adam so much, I wouldn’t have minded as much as I should.

I followed Rose into the kitchen after looking at the boys one more time, the three of them practically falling off the sofa, they were watching the TV so raptly. 

Christmas with Rose had officially become tradition. Everyone put it down to Rose’s food and amazing hosting skills, but I knew better, even if I didn’t say it - it was understood between Rose, Harry and I that even though Rose had never gotten her memories back, hosting Christmas was something she was comfortable with; like the constancy of it was therapy for her or something. 

Five years. Five years since the accident and it still felt too close, too raw. It still hurt, knowing Rose couldn’t remember such a huge part of her - our - lives - and having to watch her hope deteriorate. No matter how many times the doctors had warned her that her memories returning was becoming less and less likely, she’d never given up, saying her brain would magically heal itself like one of those medical miracles she always saw on TV. She’d just kept… Waiting. Yes, okay, she’d still lived her life while she did wait, but she hadn’t been living properly - she hadn’t been living her life as Rose Avery. 

Just a few months into her job with with the London Met, she’d given it up - and not because of her pregnancy with Ed, but because she’d claimed she couldn’t be “taken seriously” when the paparazzi were constantly snapping pictures of her and Harry together. Of course, I’d known that was a lie. Rose Avery, or what little had been left of her, was who had sent in the application for the London Met job; but Rose didn’t know that person anymore. So by the time Ed was born, the only version of herself she knew was Rose Styles.

Of course, that didn’t mean my best friend wasn’t in there any more. It just meant she… She wasn’t exactly the same best friend I’d always had. I’d always dodged the question when she’d asked, but the old Rose wouldn't have been able to adapt to being a 1D wife as quickly as this Rose had; she’d charmed the fans, embraced the limelight, where the old Rose would have been too insecure to make it last. It had been a good change.

But she was more stubborn than before. So it had hurt more and more to watch her diligently wait for a brain miracle that wasn’t about to happen.

It was silly to think about now, but… Well, nobody else had bothered to keep hope for Rose’s memories as more and more time had gone on. Why should they? Rose losing her memories somehow made everything… Easier. Liam and Harry’s underlying issues stopped existing when Rose couldn’t notice them and feel insecure about them anymore and Eddie had… Extracted himself from the situation by then. The stupid boy had given up too, and now that Rose only remembered Ryan as a friend, he’d considered hanging around as pointless.

I’d tried to maintain hope, really. But deep down, I’d lost it before Rose had. How could I? Just because I’d not believed in happily-ever-afters only to have one handed to me at the last minute, it didn’t mean I expected that to happen all the time. Too much time had passed for Rose to suddenly just… Remember. And honestly, the entire time, it felt like the Rose who I’d known before the accident was in there somewhere deep down, wishing she wouldn’t fully remember. Her life was simpler this way.

But Rose wasn’t stupid - after two years, she finally accepted that her memories were gone.

It hadn’t been pretty.

I’d felt so… Obsolete. Even if she couldn’t remember it, how many times had Rose been there for me? Pulled me through, made me smile when I’d thought I couldn’t anymore? But when Rose finally accepted that she’d lost access to an entire part of her life, I… I was useless.

What kind of a friend did that make me?

The only word I had to describe how she’d been when the doctors had told her there was nothing more they could do, is depressed. She stopped going out as much, she struggled to find things to do at home. She just… Lost interest, until one day she and Harry had gotten into a ridiculous argument in front of a two-year old Darcy.

It had been insane. Rose and Harry didn’t argue; they sniped and sighed and moaned at each other, but they didn’t argue, not properly - certainly not the way Aman and I did when we kicked off, in a flash of fireworks and shouting. But Rose had gone totally insane - shouting, screaming, throwing things. Once she’d calmed down - and that took a week, a whole week of ranting coffee sessions and threats of divorce -, I’d managed to get her to agree to getting some time away. It had actually been Harry’s idea, but… Harry had been public enemy number one at the time.

She’d spent two weeks away, two terrifying weeks where I didn’t know where my best friend was or if she was okay. Even though Harry had promised he’d be able to handle things by himself, Ed had stayed with us for a while. We’d been home in London and Harry and Rose hadn’t bought their California place yet - so Ed and Darcy stayed with us during the day and Harry took baby Darcy between recording the new album of the time. 

That said, it was no secret that Harry being alive this long after being given responsibility of his own breathing was nothing short of a miracle - so I’d made sure he and Darcy had spent plenty of time with us, too. If Rose needed time away to get her shit together, then fine, but I’d at least make sure her husband didn’t lose himself and his baby girl to baby wolves during the time she was away.

Rose had come back completely refreshed, and had acted as if nothing had happened. As cruel as it sounded, seeing her finally so content with herself had made me relieved. In an odd way, the accident had set her free in a way she never would have been if she hadn’t lost her memory - and now that the gap in her mind was here to stay, what was the purpose of wishing it wasn’t? Yes, I wished Rose remembered all of our jokes and all of the milestones we’d had when she’d first arrived in London, but I still had her here, with me - we were still together. So my selfishness, for once, just had to shut up and deal.

So even though it was a really dumb thing to reminisce about so much later… I still felt so proud of Rose. She looked so elegant in the sleeveless, olive-green dress she’d taken at least a month to choose. Elegant and content. 

We’d gotten through it all.

There was a party in full swing, with tinsel wrapped around the banisters and scented candles lit in every room. Rose had hired catering staff to keep serving guests snacks and fancy flutes of champagne, even though she had cooked one of the most amazing meals I’d ever witnessed for dinner. The guests were mainly industry friends of Rose and Harry, some of them people I knew from way back when, but all of the familiar faces were here too - Niall was here with Alanna, Hughie and Izzy, who was sporting her ridiculously tiny pregnant stomach at seven months; Liam and Kara were here with the twins, who were called that even though they weren’t; Ryan was kicking around somewhere, chatting up some models. Rose’s family hadn’t been in touch since the accident, but she had a new family now - us. And we weren’t going anywhere.

The only couples that were missing were Louis and Vivienne and, of course, my beloved ex-husband and ex-childhood best friend. Lou and Vivienne were spending Christmas in Mexico as part of their honeymoon… Yep, honeymoon. The two idiots had finally stopped playing with one another and had decided to get married in a tiny ceremony in the middle of nowhere, with just their family as witnesses and baby Scarlett as a bridesmaid. Although we’d all teased them about being cut out, we weren’t angry - honestly, so long as Vivienne was finally committing, I was more than happy. She’d taken long enough. That girl’s commitment issues were legendary and God only knew how Louis had been not-so-subtly trying to tie Vivienne down for years now.

As for Zayn… Well, I didn’t miss him in any way. He’d finally gotten one child ahead of me - Layla had given birth in England to their newest son, Syed.

It was pathetic, really, how Zayn felt the need to get Layla to pop out another baby the moment he found out I was pregnant. Mikael, his eldest, had been announced as on the way less than three months after I’d announced I was pregnant with Dany. It was sad, really. No, actually, not sad - downright pathetic. It also turned out that Rianna, their only girl, had been cooking in Layla’s stomach when Zayn had tried to make my and Aman’s baby his through raping me.

God, I hated him. It hit me in waves, the space between them always making me think I was over it, but… The mere mention of him made me want to tear him to pieces. He’d seen Ari, my baby Ari, as some sort of sick substitute for his pitfalls as a husband when we’d been married. Who did that? Who tried to hijack the innocence of a brand new baby, to try and use in their own sick agenda?

Oh, right. The creep I’d once made the mistake of marrying.

It really was a godsend that I’d met Aman. If I’d hadn’t, I would have always just assumed I had really shitty taste in men.

I did worry about Layla, every now and then - though reason, as well as everyone I knew, told me I shouldn’t. I didn’t care if it sounded egotistical; every fibre of my being told me that Zayn had married one of my friends, someone who had been at my wedding the first time around, out of pure spite. Did he treat her right? From what I’d heard and seen he did, but I knew better than anyone what a two-faced prat Zayn really was.

That said, Layla and I weren’t built the same. Zayn couldn’t just get up and leave Layla whenever he wanted - she’d take him for everything he had if he dared. In a sick way, they kind of deserved one another.

Anyway - it was because Zayn and Layla were still in England that Aman and I were celebrating Christmas with Rose for the first time in at least two years. It was nice, to be back again. Therapeutic, almost - it felt like nothing had changed even though everything had, and for the better.

“Where are Darcy and Zarina?” Rose asked, nudging me and snapping me out of my nostalgia. She handed me a pack of extra long candles and motioned with her head to the candles on the table. It was pathetic. I was a mother of two, but was still too scared to use normal-length candles.

“The playroom, the last I saw, with Alanna and Izzy.” I told her, trying to shake off the overwhelming sense of oldness that I felt whenever I saw Alanna. Alanna was five years old now - five, huge years old. It felt like only five minutes had passed since we’d all been waiting outside Isolde’s hospital room, listening to her scream as she gave birth. How had five years changed everything so much? Putting aside the motherhood, I even had a new husband; and after two kids, I didn’t even think of him as new anymore. 

Hell, on paper, I was even a respectable businesswoman. That had never been a… Thing, five years ago; but then, five years ago, I hadn’t had shares in Conde Nast, or had been developing the media branch of the Zafar Inc. I’d barely learnt what an eyelash curler was back then - and now, I could apply mascara in a moving vehicle, with my son playing Power Rangers next to me.

“You really need to explain why you’re dressed like a tramp to me.” Rose sighed, eyeing me. Um, rude. “Like, seriously, what is even going on over there?”

“Hasn’t anyone ever told you it’s not hospitable to insult your guests?”

“I wasn’t hosting the party where that was said.” Rose grinned cheekily, making me laugh. “So. Explanation?”

I looked down at myself. I hadn’t thought my outfit wasn’t presentable! Less on the fitted side that baggy, yes, but still appropriately festive. My jumper was oversized with a strip of black lace running down each sleeve, but my jeans were skinny and my heels weren’t ugly. I was just… Covered.

“How do you know I haven’t just gotten really fat?” I retorted. “I could actually be crying on the inside right now, because of your comment. I could be really offended. Ever think of that?”

“Nice try!” Rose snorted. “You enjoy being some kind of yoga dominatrix way too much in bed with that sexy husband of yours to ever really let yourself go.”

There was no point pretending she was wrong, so I let her see my smug smile. Hey. I had talents in the bedroom now.

That had definitely changed in the past five years.

“You really need to tell me what’s going on with you.” Rose continued, swatting my hands away from picking some strawberries from reindeer’s nose. Oh, yes. Rose had made a reindeer cake. “I know there’s something and I will keep you hostage until you tell me.”

“As flattering as your obsessive behaviour is,” I said in my snootiest voice. “My bank balance and ability to strike the fear of God in anyone who questions me, means that I could do something about it.” I grinned as I took one of the strawberries, ignoring Rose’s narrowed eyes. “You’re just a pop-star’s wife. If this were an episode of Gossip Girl, which our lives clearly are nowadays, I am definitely Lily van der Woodsen enough to win a rich-people’s smackdown.”

“I’m going to let that one go, just because I know it comes from your jealous place.” Rose told me, flicking me with the napkin she’d been holding. I laughed, dodging it. “You’re just mad that the world knows how hot I look in a swimsuit, after last month’s shoot. And I know something is up. I’ll get it out of you.”

“Good luck with that.” I grinned, stealing another strawberry and laughing as Rose looked like she was about to tackle me. “And who cares if you look better in a swimsuit - I’m a yoga dominatrix in bed according to you, remember?!”

Of course, Rose just laughed.

It didn’t take long for the rest of Rose’s guests to slowly disappear. Everyone wanted to look glamorous and rested for Christmas Day and after an hour or so, it was just us - the original group, but the extended edition.

We ended up sitting on the patio - or “porch”, as the new English-to-American dictionary in my head informed me - overlooking the sea, the wall-sized window of the lounge allowing us to watch as the children slept. Despite Niall’s initial worries that Hughie wouldn’t get along with Ed and Dany thanks to how close they were, the three of them were sprawled across one another on the sofa, asleep.

Dany’s arm was hanging off the sofa’s arm-rest, his fingers loosely linked with Ari’s hand through the bars of the cot Harry had brought down for Darcy and Ari to share.

Pathetic as it was, it made me feel… Happy, knowing how close Danyal and Zarina were. Everyone, including Aman, kept telling me that it didn’t mean it would last into adulthood, but… Well, how could it not? It had been some kind of miracle, having Danyal at all - and then having Zarina so healthy, especially considering the challenges she’d been put through before even being born. Dany had never become jealous of the attention Ari had gotten when she was born; if anything, even though he was barely older than he, he doted on her.

Even now, after being (fairly) happily married for four years - and having actually loved him for more than that, unlike the first time -, I was still waiting for the other shoe to drop. My children adored one another, my husband and I didn’t hate each other and then there was the news I had to tell Rose…

I hadn’t expected this. I hadn’t expected this all to happen so quickly but now that it had, I didn’t regret it; which was strange, because before now, I’d been a barrel-full of regrets whenever things were moving too fast.

Apparently, my incessant need to be a control freak was subsiding. Ever so slightly.

I was - for lack of a better term - maturing. Supposedly. It was hard to believe when it was just Aman and I arguing over what channel to watch once Dany and Ari were in bed, but seeing my friends around me… We’d all matured.

Like Niall and Isolde. They were sitting beside Aman and I, Niall sitting on the floor with Isolde’s sock-clad legs resting over his shoulder. Although Izzy was just as fierce as ever, finally being with Niall meant she’d mellowed slightly - but only slightly. They balanced one another out, now. Isolde wasn’t as bitter about being thrust into the limelight, because she’d finally realised it wouldn’t affect Niall’s duties as a father. Even Aman had been ecstatic when they’d finally announced they were getting married - just after Isolde had found out she was pregnant with Hughie, at an intimate, fairy-tale like ceremony in Ireland with Alanna as a flower girl. We’d been invited - Niall had insisted there’d be no trouble with Zayn there - but it… It hadn’t felt right. As much of an amazing pair of friends Niall and Isolde had been to me, I couldn’t ruin the balance. Zayn had been there first.

Plus, you know, Aman still wanted to stick his head on a spike and attach it to the back of one of the cars.

What with Vivienne and Louis finally tying the lot - the boys truly were like dominos, once one got married and had children, the others followed -, Liam and Kara were the only ones who hadn’t gotten married. That wasn’t exactly surprising - even when Kara had found out she was pregnant with Charlie, she’d wondered if it was the right choice. Considering she was all too ready to give the rest of us much needed uncomfortable advice when necessary, it was nice to be able to pay her back a little - they hadn’t even been living with one another until Kara was at least four months pregnant, which was when Liam - and everyone else - put their foot down.

Still - seeing them snuggling together on the seat opposite made me smile. Liam had made some really sucky choices in his life, including forcing Kara into rehab and then forcing himself into her life, but by an amazing bout of luck it had worked out; even better, Kara wasn’t afraid to call Liam out on his crap. Of which there was plenty.

Harry and Rose didn’t count in my proud reminiscing. Harry and I had finally managed to get back on track after his… Behaviour following Rose’s accident and in a weird way, it had made us closer. It also made me tell him regularly that he was a giant loser who I’d happily rip apart if he ever hurt Rose, but I knew I didn’t have to say it. I’d seen Harry and Rose happen. And even though I still wasn’t sure if Harry had been the best choice out of him and Eddie, he had turned out to be the right one - he was here, with her and I knew better than anyone how Rose needed that.

“Thank you again, for inviting us to dinner tomorrow, Rose.” Liam sighed as he stretched. “I’m really looking forward to it. When you still hadn’t invited us at the beginning of the month, I was getting a bit worried.”

I snorted loudly at Kara’s mortified expression.

“I am so sorry about his atrocious manners.” Kara muttered, nudging Liam hard in the ribs. “I think what he means, Rose, is thank you for your wonderful hospitality.”

“Hospitality.” Rose smiled… Except that was not a happy smile. Oh, no, how much wine had she had? “You’d know all about that, too-”

“How about more cake?” I said loudly, ignoring Aman raise his eyebrows at my sudden enthusiasm. It wasn’t enough to stop everyone from noticing what Rose had said, but I was hoping it would lessen the impact. I started picking up some of the empty bottles and dishes on the table, mouthing Kara a sorry when I was opposite her. “Rose? You know I can’t be trusted in your kitchen alone. Come on, up you get.”

I glared at Harry as Rose silently strutted into the kitchen, looking annoyed. What the Hell was that? Had Rose not wanted Kara at the party? I understood Harry putting his foot down and saying she had to be - there was no way Liam could come and not Kara - but Rose was volatile. She didn’t like being forced to do things nowadays, even if she knew they were right.

One of the accident’s little side effects.

Rose was already sipping on a fresh glass of wine when I found her in the kitchen. Some of the cleaning team were already here, packing up dirty dishes from earlier in the night.

“What,” I said slowly. “Was that just now?”

“You didn’t let me finish.” Rose shrugged. “So it’s not like I said the whole of what I was going to say.”

“Everyone understood where you were going with it.” I sighed, handing the pile of dishes to one of the cleaners. I did not clean. Some things never changed. “I mean, a crack about-” I stepped closer and lowered my voice. Liam had worked hard to make Kara’s past disappear. “- her past career? Not cool, Rose.”

“What’s not cool is everyone, including you, acting like she’s one of us!” Rose protested, setting her wine glass down angrily. “Sure, Isolde is our friend and you’ve known Vivienne for a long time, but she’s practically a random stranger, sitting in my house - for what?”

“Rose.” Where had this come from? It was no secret that Rose wasn’t exactly warm with Kara, but she’d never been outright nasty, either. “We’ve known Kara for a long time-”

“Since when is how long you’ve known someone a good measurement?” Rose snapped. “You knew Zayn for less than a year when you guys shacked up. What difference does time make?”

… What?

I didn’t say anything for a few seconds - not just because I was stunned at the guerrilla tactics, but because something was wrong with what Rose had just said. Something that was setting off alarm bells.

No. No, I was imagining things - Rose was just angry and lashing out and so I was making excuses for her. I was being stupid.

Except…

I pushed it to the back of my mind, seeing how Rose’s eyes had widened at what she’d just said.

“I’m going to go back into the other room, before you say more stuff we both regret.” I said quietly. “And unless you want to drive your guests away before lunch tomorrow, I’d suggest you calm down before you go back in there, because nobody else is a fan of the bomb you just dropped.” I didn’t have to say the rest - that Rose was lucky Vivienne wasn’t there, because Vivienne would have lost it, or that Harry was aghast at her behaviour -, and so I left the kitchen, leaving Rose in there.

Something feels wrong! She shouldn’t - no. I wasn’t doing this. I wasn’t doubting her.

Rose came back out onto the deck a few minutes later, all smiles and apologising about her outburst - she claimed it was a stress-related event thanks to problems with the turkey. She even apologised to Kara; she “explained” how she meant Kara had been to so many parties and things, Rose had been expressing how flattered she was - but that, after I’d explained how it had come across, she was sorry if she’d been misunderstood.

It was a lame excuse. A ridiculously lame excuse. But everyone, including Kara, pretended to accept it because that made things less uncomfortable.

Rose and I didn’t talk for the rest of the night.

. . .

Christmas morning was like something out of Miracle on 54th Street. 

Harry and Rose had bought presents for Danyal and Zarina and left them under the tree, and of course we’d bought gifts for everyone before arriving. We’d stayed over - like we’d planned to, despite Aman being disgruntled at the thought of relying on anyone, regardless of how well he and Harry got along -, but the weird feeling at the back of my head was still there. Like I was deliberately missing something, like I was ignoring something huge.

I carried on ignoring it.

“Those PJs are hideous. Explain.” Rose laughed, handing me a mug of fresh coffee. Aman looked at me, confused, as I subtly put it beside me and it wasn’t hard to read his mind; she doesn’t know? 

“Hey, I dressed for comfort.” I protested, rather put out that nobody else loved my pyjamas - Aman’s Harvard sweatshirt and a pair of my comfiest grey joggers. “And are you sure there’s nothing I can do to help for later? Please say yes. Otherwise I’m stuck babysitting these two idiots.”

Aman and Harry snickered as they high-fived over my head.

“She’s just jealous of our love.” Harry told Aman happily.

“Unless you tell me what you’re hiding from me, it’s your punishment.” She shrugged evilly. I smiled - I wasn’t over what she’d said yesterday -, though promising myself I’d tell her tonight. I had to. One bitchy comment didn’t make her any less… Rose. “And anyway, I’ve told the others too, that everyone has to starve until it’s time to eat. Christmas dinner has come out fabulous.”

We all stopped as Dany and Ed started to wave their arms excitedly at their newest present - ones, I realised instantly, Harry and Aman had chosen for them. Matching water pistols, in loud colours. The boys were already making shooting noises and the toy wasn’t even out of its packaging yet.

Darcy and Ari watched them from where they sat in their fathers’ laps, snuggling close under the same blanket. 

I smiled as Danyal tripped over Ed’s legs, to squirt Ari in the face with water. Ari hated water in her face - she screamed blue murder whenever I washed her hair. Considering I was the most hated person on the planet when I washed her face, her outraged giggle in response to the water pistol was almost offensive.

Almost.

Darcy, on the other hand, ripped the pistol out of Ed’s hands and attacked his face with it.

Ah, the girls. 

Ari giggled loudly at Ed’s outraged face, watching carefully as Dany yanked Ed’s T-shirt to his face and told him “wipe it”. So mature, just at three.

“What’re you thinking?” Aman asked me quietly, unnoticed as Rose and Harry discussed something between themselves over our heads. 

“Nothing.” I smiled, attacking Ari’s cheek with kisses and laughing loudly as she pulled my face down and attempted to do the same thing back. It wasn’t quite perfect, but it was definitely good enough for me - her skin was always so soft, but her strength always surprised me. “I’m just… I’m just glad that we have such a big family.”

. . .

The rest of the day passed in a lazy, festive blur.

I, as tradition dictated, was amazed at the seamlessness of Rose’s efficiency. There was officially no room for my kitchen ineptitude and even though that meant I spent the day becoming increasingly freaked out at how Rose and I had given birth to boys who were essentially younger, more mischievous versions of their fathers, I did feel kind of guilty that I wasn’t useful at all.

Not guilty enough to actually help bark out orders at the catering staff, like Rose was, but enough to prove I had a conscience.

I was in charge, with Harry, of getting the children ready - that was an experience. Harry had lovingly tied Darcy’s long brown hair into a little bun and had spent the entire time grinning at her, as she stepped into her sparkly red dress.

Ari, on the other hand, had kicked and screamed at the prospect of wearing anything remotely feminine. She hated dresses. I was sure she partially thought she was a boy like her brother - Dany was in black trousers and a white shirt and Ed was even wearing a little tie -, but Aman put it down to Ari “being confident in her femininity”. 

All that meant to me, was that Ari only ended up wearing the Dolce & Gabbana printed dress Harry had bought her for Christmas because Darcy pointed out that hers was still more sparkly and Harry promised Ari she could wear one of Ed’s hats with the dress.

Ari currently was obsessed with hats. She wore her father’s Yankees cap to bed.

Surely Dany should have been the more difficult one? But no. Dany was laid-back when it came to clothes and getting dressed. His only demands were Batman underwear and vests that weren’t itchy - he had sensitive skin -, but other than that… He didn’t care what he was wearing. But my little girl? No. No, the only dress she’d ever willingly bought in the two years she’d spent on this planet, was a dress that was covered in comic strips.

Was I meant to be proud or embarrassed at how much she was like me?

Harry did Ari’s hair too, which was a miracle in itself. He managed to brush it through and pull it into a neat pony tail - complete with a red rose clip on the side. If I’d have tried that, Zarina probably would have bitten me.

“You know Rose is going to have something to say about that outfit?” Harry grinned, seeing what I was wearing when I finally got dressed.

I was wearing a beige cashmere jumper that did not at all cling, the same black skinny jeans from the day before and a pair of beige loafers, a long, thick black cardigan thrown on top.

“This isn’t trampy!” I protested, allowing Harry to stand behind me and latch my necklace for me. “It’s elegant! And I’m wearing jewellery, so it’s still festive, too.”

“This is to do with what you’re hiding, isn’t it?” Harry asked - and I laughed because really, when was Harry ever that observant? “Your hair looks nice.”

I’d left it out and done nothing to it, including brushing, but just told him thanks.

Everything was lovely. Louis and Vivienne briefly Skyped from Mexico to wish everyone a merry Christmas and Zayn text the others. Isolde’s cravings for cinnamon were quenched with Rose’s special “mulled apple juice”.

Everything was lovely, right up until when it wasn’t.

“Are you sure you don't need a hand with the burning pud?” Kara asked Rose, as we all waited around for dessert. “Trust me, I can handle a blowtorch. Occupational hazard.” She joked.

She wasn’t being malicious, or goading Rose. Kara was just… Like that. She hit things over the head and dealt with them, she joked her way out of awkward situations. We’d spent enough time talking for me to know that Kara found it difficult to not just punch someone as means of effective communication. This was her, trying.

But it backfired. Spectacularly.

Everyone laughed, except Rose. Even Aman had snorted into his glass and he made a conceited effort to not acknowledge Kara’s past, most likely because his affinity with prostitutes (that sounded so wrong) wasn’t something he planned on making public knowledge.

“Occupational hazard?” Rose repeated, looking… Furious. The alarm bells in my head got louder. “Considering you’re so proud of your career, why don’t you just come out and say the rest of the men here would make good clients? That’s what you’re thinking, right? I mean, when you talk about occupational hazards, you fail to mention the genital herpes or whatever else you’ve got, do you?” Rose laughed once, darkly. I… We were all too shocked to move. “Then again, I suppose pretending being a slut is an actual profession helps you to pretend you’re not really just some washed-up crack whore.”

Everyone stopped. Everyone, except me - because at the crack whore part, I had to shut my eyes and pretend I wasn’t seeing the smug expression on Rose’s face, right before she calmly walked out.

What - what - had possessed Rose to just… To… Lash out like that? What had she been thinking?!

I wasn’t the only one thinking it.

“Is that some kind of fucking joke?” Liam said angrily, staring around the table. I looked at Harry, but he was staring after Rose, his expression horrified. “Does someone want to tell me what’s going on?”

“She’s probably just stressing out over dinner.” Kara said quietly - and that somehow made everything worse, that she, out of everyone, was the one jumping to Rose’s defence. “I should have kept my mouth shut, really. I knew she was upset yesterday and I pushed the dark humour-”

“This isn’t your fault!” Liam snapped - before looking at me. “She’s your best friend! Want to tell us what’s going on, or what?”

“Hey, it’s not Soph’s fault!” Kara told him, looking annoyed. Oh, great. Not only was Rose calling people crack-whores under her own roof, but apparently now I was inadvertently causing a domestic. “I’m Soph’s friend and she’s never-”

“We thought Rose was your friend too, but she’s turned out to be a grade-A bitch-”

“Alright!” Harry shouted loudly. “That’s my wife you’re talking about, mate, do you want to calm down?”

And just like that, everyone was arguing.

This was insane. Insane. Rose didn’t - Rose didn’t like confrontation! She may have developed more of a spine since the accident, but she didn’t like causing trouble and she certainly did not enjoy her parties being given a bad reputation. This made no sense. This made no sense, how had I missed her freaking out like this?!

You didn’t. You knew something was wrong, but you ignored it.

This was my fault.

“Everyone, just calm down-” Niall was saying patiently, but it wasn’t working. “Look, why don’t we let Harry talk to Rose, while we cool off in here and see what’s happening next-”

“I think I should go.” Kara said firmly. “That’s what should happen next. I was the one who started it, I don’t want to ruin what’s otherwise been a lovely Christmas-”

“We’re not going until she apologises!” Liam spluttered, now in full mouthing-off mode. Wonderful. Just wonderful. “Soph, are you going to sort this out or what?”

“That has to be the second or third time you’ve said that.” Aman said quietly, looking up at Liam with an annoyed expression. I poked his leg under the table. No. No. Now was not the time for his overprotectiveness to rise up; particularly when, ever since the… Incident when I was pregnant with Ari, he’d had a much lower tolerance for any of One Direction. “Has it ever occurred to you that it’s not Soph who’s responsible for Rose’s actions?”

“Well then, do you want to tell me who is?!” Liam was still shouting, but he seemed a bit… Calmer, at seeing Aman’s expression. That wasn’t necessarily a good thing. The effect of Aman’s silent but scary temper was not something I needed to worry about right now.

Aman pretended to think, pointedly ignoring my incessant poking. Rude.

“Rose, maybe?”

“Liam, will you please just shut up and calm down?” Kara groaned loudly, shoving him away from where he was towering over the table. What was going on with Rose? What was so bad, that she couldn’t just tell someone? Me? “Manny, Soph, I’m sorry, none of this is your fault - none of this is anyone’s fault! Rose has the right to not want an ex-hooker in her home and honestly, if you guys think I haven’t heard stuff like this before, you’re underestimating how good I was at my job.”

“How are you still cracking jokes right now?” I was trying not to smile. How could Rose not like Kara? This was exactly why everyone else did! Kara was covering for Rose’s almost unforgivable blunder, as if it were the most natural thing in the world. “Please don’t leave. Let me talk to Rose and find out what’s really going on.” I squeezed Kara’s hand. She’d been such a good friend to me, for ever since I’d known her…

And just like that, I was angry. How could Rose do this? How dare she? She’d never been jealous or possessive before and if this truly was about me accepting Kara as a friend like she’d said, then she was insane. Kara had been there for me since the beginning. She hadn’t expected me to hate her because of my faith or whatever else; damn it, she’d been there for me on my wedding day when Rose hadn’t! On the day of my reception, Kara had kept me calm in a way nobody else could have - not even Rose, who had been too busy playing house.

That’s unfair. You forgave her back then, you can’t take it back now.

Yeah - not unless I’d never forgiven her in the first place.

How much did Rose think she could get away with? After the accident, I’d kept justifying her erratic behaviour as her way of coping after the accident, but how could I keep saying it was okay? This was not okay!

“Kara, sweetheart, I’m so sorry about what Rose said. You know we don’t see you like that, you’re just as much family as anyone else here is.” Harry sighed, glancing at me with false smile; play along. “Probably more than this one, since she’s so posh these days.”

“Whatever.” Kara muttered, shooting me a grin. “These peasants just don’t know how to deal with upper classes, huh, Soph?”

I grinned, feeling sick. What the Hell had Rose been playing at, lashing out at Kara like that?

“I’m just going to go and check on Rose, see what’s really going on.” I told everyone as I got up, squeezing Aman’s shoulder on my way. He understood what that meant - keep it together here. Sometimes, this whole soulmate thing wasn’t such a giant inconvenience. “And Liam - just pour yourself another drink and calm down, alright?”

“Yeah.” Liam muttered, letting Niall firmly push him back into his chair. Thankfully, he shot Aman an apologetic look. “Sorry, everyone.”

“You can’t be perfect all the time.” Aman joked, now apparently silently communicating with Niall.

“Yeah.” Niall added. “Makes the rest of us look bad.”

That was the last thing I heard before going into the kitchen - and finding Rose calmly looking out of the window, drinking a glass of wine.

I shut the door behind me.

“What the fuck,” I asked slowly. “Was that? Where did that even come from?!”

“I’m sick of her acting like being a whore is such an accomplishment.” Rose shrugged. She could pretend to be calm all she wanted - I knew her too well. I could see she was still livid. What kind of a best friend would I be if I didn’t? “I would have thought you would have backed me up and understood that, but apparently not.” I stared, speechless, as Rose looked at me disapprovingly. “I heard you out there, with Manny and Harry, covering for me. I don’t need you three to cover for me.”

“When you drop crap like that, you do.” I laughed, though not at all because I found this funny. “You invited her here, Rose! And even if you didn’t really want to, since when were you so… It’s the holiday season. You love the holiday season.”

“Oh, of course I do!” Rose suddenly shouted, making me jump as she finally turned to face me. “Of course I love the festive season! I hold Christmas every year and play happy families and you know what? You’re right, I do love that part. But what I don’t love is everyone pretending everything is just dandy! Everyone is pretending what she is doesn’t matter, that how she met Liam doesn’t matter, but when I was deciding between guys - and not giving them hand-jobs in alleyways during it all -, I was the bad guy! Somehow, when Liam was being a shitty boyfriend, I was still the whore - and she is, and what, she gets nothing?”

We didn’t say anything for a few minutes. Rose was breathing heavily and staring at me with wide eyes, like she’d said something wrong - but she hadn’t - except she had, because something felt wrong, that feeling at the back of my mind was back -

Oh, Soph, you idiot.

“… You remember.” I whispered, feeling my heart begin to thrum in my throat. I tried to swallow down the feeling - to calm down. “You… You remember.”

Yesterday. Yesterday, when she’d mentioned Zayn - it had seemed wrong because it was wrong. That was before the accident. Rose didn’t remember anything between leaving Australia and the night of the accident, when Harry had told her they were together, when he’d lied; but I’d… I’d thought it was fine. I’d thought what she’d said about Zayn was fine, because I was so used to Rose’s voice talking about my first marriage that I’d forgotten she wasn’t the same Rose anymore. 

“No.” Rose muttered… But her voice was shaking. Oh, my God, she remembers. “No, no, I don’t-”

“Yes, you do!” I argued. It made sense now. It made sense! I’d gotten so used to lying to Rose about her past, because I’d had to, that hearing the truth after so long had been like… Like taking a break and only a small part of my brain had noticed. “Yes, you do! Rose, this is - this is huge! How long have you remembered?” Why was this being hidden? This was amazing news! We’d all thought it would never happen, this was great… Except it wasn’t, it wasn’t, because Rose looked… Guilty. Or at least like she was trying to hide that she felt guilty. “Oh my God, Rose, how long have you remembered?” I asked again, but this time, differently. I wasn’t excited this time.

“You don’t get to judge me.” Rose finally muttered, stabbing her finger in my direction. “You… You don’t get to judge me!”

“How long, Rose?!”

“I didn't go away because I had some kind of depressed break down, okay!” Rose suddenly shouted. Oh my God. Oh my God, she’d remembered and I hadn’t even noticed. “I know you love to think of me as this depressed loser who you need to constantly save, but-”

“What? Are you insane?”

“- I remembered! I was playing with Darcy and she was crying because Harry wasn’t around, like always-”

“She’s a child, Rose!” I snapped, seeing where this was going. Rose had been so excited to have a girl, so excited - because she saw her as a substitute, as the universe’s way of compensating her for a mother and sister that didn’t care. I’d warned her, I’d told her she couldn’t think about it like that - Darcy was a person! If we hadn’t learnt that everyone was a real person that we couldn’t just know inside out, what the Hell had we learnt after all of this time? “You do understand the concept of a child, don’t you? She’s innocent!”

“She made me remember!” Rose suddenly screamed, making me jump back. “Do you not get that? That little bitch-”

“Rose!”

“- she made me remember! And you know what? I was better off forgetting!” Rose hissed. I’d… I wanted to believe it was the drink, that all of the wine had gotten to her head, but I knew that wasn’t true. This was years’ worth of venom bubbling to the surface, venom I thought she’d trusted me enough to share in the beginning. But she hadn’t. She’d lied.

Like she was lying now.

“Two years. Two years.” I said, finally realising the maths. When she’d went away. When we’d all thought she’d lost hope, when I’d thought she was mourning. 

This was huge. Huge. And I had so many questions. Did she remember everything? Had it come all at once, or was she still piecing things together? Why had she hid it, when had she decided to? 

How could she have?

“Does Harry know?” I demanded. Harry. Harry. Oh, God. He’d… He thought he’d cheated her somehow, cheated himself into having a happiness he didn’t deserve. After Eddie had died - or gone away to -, he’d taken that all on himself, blaming Rose’s rejection of Eddie on himself. He’d been struggling with that ever since, he still was - but Rose knew? “He - he’s taken on your guilt about Eddie! He blames himself!”

“And there it is.” Rose muttered cruelly, staring at me up and down. “Perfect little Soph, upset because she’s losing control of micro-managing my life.”

No. No. I knew exactly what she was talking about and she did not get to say that to me.

“I did what I had to, as your friend.” I told her seriously. No. No. There was absolutely no way in Hell that she was putting that on me, acting as if I did what I did for kicks. “I did what I did because the doctors told me you were at risk and because I had to deal with damage control, when Harry and Ryan and everyone else panicked-”

“Like that’s the only control you have over my life!” Rose snorted. “What about my marriage, hmm? What about the fact that ever since before Harry and I got together, you’ve always been in the middle, you’re always acting mediator when nobody even wants you there?”

I couldn’t help it. As much as I told myself I’d changed, that I was more mature and mellow, that was a load of crap. I was not taking anyone’s crap ever again - I’d made that promise to myself a long time ago.

And Rose did not get a pass card just because she was feeling sassy.

“Well according to you, I’ve always been there - so it’s not hard to imagine your marriage falling apart without me being there to pick up the pieces of your dramas!” I snapped back instantly, not even having to think about it.

I didn’t want to do this. I didn’t want to have this conversation, this argument, with Rose. There were too many things for us to be bitter about.

But it felt really good to just say it. 

“This is exactly what I mean.” Rose laughed - and it wasn’t scary to hear anymore, it was pissing me off. “Perfect little Soph, with her perfect little life, looking down on everyone else. You act like such an angel-”

“No need to act like an angel, when we know I’m a queen.” It was meant to be a joke - to calm things down, because logic told me we needed to - but it came out more serious than I intended. Not that, at this point, I cared as much as I could have. “Just because you are too wrapped up in pretending to be someone else, doesn’t mean everyone else is as screwed up!”

“I’m not pretending!” Rose gasped. Seriously? Seriously? “I am being the person I am, the person I was meant to be - before everyone screwed me over and took advantage of me trying to be everyone’s friend!”

“Such a victim, all of the time!” I yelled. “Do you ever realise how self-involved you are? How pathetic it is? Your problems revolve around which boy to choose - and you act like you’re hard done by, when you’re the one who put yourself in that situation!” I groaned. This was ridiculous. This was just insanely ridiculous and not because of this conversation. “You can’t run from your feelings, Rose! You can’t pretend to not feel guilty! You - you-” I had to take a second, to calm myself down. I had to say this. I had to say this properly, for his sake. “- you’ve been lying, for two years about having no memory. Eddie wasn’t dead then. He was ill, but not dead and he deserved to at least know you chose to stay with Harry! You made him give up!”

“Don’t you dare-” My mouth fell open as Rose shoved me angrily. She was not serious. “Blame me for his death. That’s on you. You were so eager to focus on my problems and make yourself look like the golden girl in comparison, that you didn’t know how to be a good friend.”

In fairness, the moment Rose had touched me, I’d began to have an out-of-body experience. I wasn’t in control anymore - not the so-called mature, mellow Soph who balanced out the power-hungry rage monster that had been inside me since God knows when. I wasn’t in control anymore.

I couldn’t take responsibility for what I did next.

Without even thinking about it, I was standing to my full height, glaring up at Rose with a hatred I’d never expected to feel towards her. I was fuming. She hadn’t just lied to me - this wasn’t, despite what she wanted to think, about my bruised ego. She’d lied to everyone - to everyone, to all of the people who’d weaved their lives into the giant lie that had come from us trying to protect her.

How dare she?

“I’m not scared of you.” Rose told me quietly, glaring down at me.

I stepped closer.

“Maybe you should be.” I muttered. “You are not the person I thought you were. My friend isn’t here anymore.”

Rose shrugged. It didn’t even bother her. It didn’t even bother her.

“Whether you think I’m a sucky person or not is your problem, but you owe it to me to keep your mouth shut.” Rose told me, making me gawp at her. Really? I owed her something? She was a lying, conniving bitch who had been manipulating us all for the past two years - and that was a long time to maintain a lie this huge - and I owed her something?

It wasn’t just the anger. I didn’t honestly believe I was just angry. I was hurt, too - betrayed. She’d never told me. She’d never told me about her memories coming back, or even how she felt about me interfering in her life. She hadn’t trusted me enough to tell me the truth when I’d only ever bore my soul to her and that betrayal hurt me so much right now, I wanted to lash out and hurt her - because it was easier to deal with whatever nasty things I’d said, rather than accept that I didn’t think I’d ever be able to trust her again.

“You’re lying. To your friends - forget that, to your husband.” I shook my head. “Harry’s my friend, too. I’m not going to lie to him out of a sick sense of loyalty.”

“Yes, you are!” Rose shouted again, pulling me by the arm before I could leave. I swatted her off. I could hear voices outside the door - clearly, they’d heard shouting and Harry was worried. Hearing the voices too, Rose began to hiss. “Yes, you are. I kept your secret when you were pregnant and you didn’t want Zayn to know, at the risk of my relationship with Harry. I didn’t tell anyone you fell in love with Aman when you were still married to someone else, I have kept your secrets for years when I could have screwed you over the entire time - so you owe me.”

Just like that, something… Left. Something flew right out of me, something that suddenly made it so much easier for me to no longer care.

It’s like flipping a light switch. Just like before.

“So you’re not asking me as a friend.” I nodded, finally understanding. “You’re blackmailing me, as a person. As someone in your way.”

Rose shrugged, her arms folded over her chest.

Wow. Wow, I really hadn’t seen this coming.

“Fine. I’ll cover for you. If I’m asked, I won’t lie, but I’ll cover for you.” I promised, feeling… nothing. Empty. Rose wasn’t my best friend any more - and if I was being honest, she hadn’t been for a long time.

“Good.” Rose said primly, making me roll my eyes as I went to turn away. “And get out of my life, while you’re at it.”

I thought about that for a grand total of, ooh, a second?

“No.” I laughed. “No way in Hell. Just because you’re too weak to admit today, or even tomorrow or the day after that, you need me. You called your three year old girl a bitch today, Rose.” I shook my head. God. God, how had she gotten so twisted? And coming from me, that was saying something. “Just because you’ve forgotten to be a good friend, doesn’t mean I have. I’m not going anywhere.”

“Harry is my husband and Darcy is my daughter!”

“Darcy may be your daughter, but Harry was my friend long before you decided to mess him around!” I snapped. “I’m already lying to him for you, that’s all you’re getting from me.”

Harry had just stepped in, when Rose said it.

“God, I hate you, Soph.”

Only Harry saw how I closed my eyes. In defeat. Because I knew, better than anyone, exactly what she was like - and when she meant it.

I had been so wrong about us.

“What the Hell happened?” Harry asked, looking between us with wide eyes.

“It was my fault. Rose was angry about me not telling her what was going on.” I forced a smile, tried not to notice the lie - lie number one, the beginning of the end of our friendship; and no, that wasn’t just dramatics. Unless Rose told Harry that she had her memories back, our friendship was just going to keep breaking down; and it didn’t look like she was going to be telling the truth anytime soon. “She doesn’t approve of the news.”

“What news?” Harry looked more confused than ever.

I turned to Rose, hoping that, even if she wasn’t the person I knew any more, the next bit stung.

“That I’m pregnant again.” I said, the news sounding… Boring now. Who even cared? “I wanted to tell my best friend, but apparently it didn't quite work that way.”

Rose barely flinched.

“Like I just told her,” Rose said to Harry coolly, staring down her nose at me. Wow, she really wanted to stop doing that before I backhanded her. “She should stop popping them out so quickly. Someone might think she was doing it for the wrong reasons - you know how people have babies just to trap their husbands.”

Ouch. That one hurt.

Was this what I was in for? Jabs about my past from her, constant reminders I was keeping the secret of a clear sociopath?

“Sorry, Harry.” I forced a smile, told myself to play along. I wasn’t going to freak out in front of her. I wasn’t going to give her the satisfaction. “I think I should go.”

“But-” Harry stopped as he hugged me tightly. “Ignore her, Soph, this is great news. You don’t have to go-”

“Trust me, Harry.” I smiled genuinely this time. He deserved more than this - from me and Rose. “I do.”

It was just then that we heard Darcy calling for her mum.

“For God’s sake, Harry, go and deal with her.” Rose snapped, rubbing her temples.

“I’ll go.” I said, before either one of them could say anything. God. God, I wanted to hit her. I wanted to hit her, but I wanted to shake her at the same time and beg her to be the person I’d always thought she was. “And… Listen, I was thinking - send Darcy over for a sleepover sometime soon. Ari and Darcy don’t see one another enough.”

Darcy shouldn’t have to deal with a mother like that.

Maybe Rose was right. Maybe I was an interfering bitch who couldn’t keep her nose to herself - but that was exactly what had gotten Rose happily married to the guy of her dreams. I’d kept my end of the bargain, I’d become the journalist and introduced her to One Direction. Apparently, that was all she’d wanted.

But I’d helped her get her ending. So whether she liked it or not, I was going to make sure Darcy had a chance at that, at least. I knew Rose and her family, I could see the signs - Rose was turning into her mother.

As I hugged Harry goodbye at the doorway, ignoring Kara’s worried expression, I promised to keep an eye on Darcy. For my friend’s sake.

The one I didn’t have any more.