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taeescript · 3 years

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29+1 (Part One)

𝔰𝔶𝔫𝔬𝔭𝔰𝔦𝔰: In which Seokjin is the Devil from The Devil Wears Prada, Taehyung is your work Jesus and Jimin is your handsome successful brother.

𝔭𝔞𝔦𝔯𝔦𝔫𝔤𝔰: seokjin x reader (taehyung x reader if you squint real hard)

𝔤𝔢𝔫𝔯𝔢: slice of life; ceo!seokjin (diva!seokjin)

𝔴𝔠: 3.6k

𝔴𝔞𝔯𝔫𝔦𝔫𝔤𝔰: heavy use of alcohol as a coping mechanism, a plethora of sarcasm (please don’t be offended) and a sprinkle of softness (is that a warning?).

𝔞/𝔫: this sat in my unwritten folder since 2017 no lie. I wrote the premise and a singular paragraph at that time, then just gave up. I opened it a few days ago, got inspired again and this word vomit came out (heavily influenced by a midnight Zoom call with my friends). Ngl this was so much fun to write, and I hope you all enjoy it as much as I did. This will probably be in three parts. 𝔡𝔦𝔰𝔠𝔩𝔞𝔦𝔪𝔢𝔯: I did not know that DailyHive is an actual online news source when writing. This work is purely fictional and has absolutely nothing to do with the real DailyHive.

part two

Your friends have a saying: After 29, nobody shares their age until they’ve accomplished something.

In the past, you didn’t understand it. What’s so bad about saying you’re 30 or you’re 32? That’s still a young age! Sure, you’re not exactly in your prime anymore but you’re not old, right?

So, you continue in your own wondrous world of naïveté until that fateful day at your class reunion. You had simply been walking around, minding your own business when you had been stopped by an old colleague.

“Hey, Y/N, right?” she waves you down.

You smile kindly, not even bothering to try and remember her name (you sucked at names, what could you say).

“Hey…you!” you chuckle lightly, “How have you been doing?”

An everyday question leading to catastrophic effects.

“Oh you know,” she says and rolls her eyes as if you truly did know, “I’ve just been out and about. Did I tell you though? I got married last year!” She holds out her hand in which a giant diamond adorns her finger. “Wow!” you gasp, feigning interest. It’s not that you aren’t happy for her, but you are reminded of just how single you are currently. When was the last time you felt another human’s touch? Does kissing come back as easily as riding a bicycle? “Hey!” she says suddenly, “I’m actually meeting with a couple of friends from our class. You should come join! I’m sure they’d be happy to see you again!” You want to wave her off, but against your better judgment, you find yourself following in her footsteps and listening to her speak about wedding venues and honeymoon destinations.

“Oh my god!” another female voice filters in.

The “couple of friends” this old classmate had mentioned is in fact a fairly impressive size of twenty. This is also the third time the wedding announcement has been made.

“Last year?” the female continues, “Weren’t you young?”

Yes, you want to respond. Yes she was young. A full 365 days younger than she is now.

Your classmate, Sooyoung (or Kiko as she insists going by now) titters in front of you. “I mean, you can sort of say I’m a late bloomer. I got married when I was 31.”

Her words unintentionally cut into you. Here you are at 29 without a beau in sight. You take a fast swig of your beer and end up hitting the empty glass with a clink to your teeth. Nobody notices.

“Enough about me, however, how about you?”

“I started my own business actually. It’s been doing really well and it’s been a crazy mind. Imagine me, my own boss at only 33!”

You nervously join them when they suddenly laugh together.

“Hi, can I get another pint please? Actually add a tequila shot to that,” you whisper the last part to the waitress you had just stopped.

And that was how the rest of the night went. People asking one another what they had accomplished. Any moment in time after 30 would not be mentioned until somebody travelled to Uganda to build houses at 31 or another gave birth at the same age. Below 30, anything would be attributed to luck or in your case…

“What are you doing currently?” somebody asks you, “The little baby of our class.”

Swallowing your third tequila shot of the night, you wonder for the umpteenth time how you had become a part of this giant sharing circle. You wonder if it’s a blessing or a curse that you had graduated a little early and thus was younger than most of your peers.

“Well,” you start, “I’m currently working at DailyHive.”

“Ohh!” a man gushes. You recognize him as the once-upon-a-time science partner you used to cheat notes off of. “I use DailyHive nearly as much as Instagram these days. You guys cover everything from news to sports to fashion.”

You shrug. “Yeah. It’s, uh… it’s a pretty big company!”

“What are you doing there?”

Kiko-ex-Sooyoung hits the man teasingly on the shoulder. “Y/N is probably the Director of Marketing or something. Remember how she used to spend all class doodling in her notebook?”

“Or sleeping!” someone quips.

You don’t join in when they all laugh.

“I’m…an intern,” you say with as much pride as you can in a group of established professionals ranging from dermatologists to that one guy who had flown around the world as a TedTalk guest speaker.

A hushed silence befalls everyone.

“That’s…cool!” the same man encourages you, “Interns are totally rad! Everyone wants an intern spot these days.”

His girlfriend pats your arm, almost empathetically. “Yeah. I know a bunch of people who first start off as interns and then they shoot up the ladder quick enough. As long as you’re no longer an intern at 30, you’re golden!”

Once again, the entire group laughs as if she has said the most hilarious of jokes.

She composes herself and says to you, “Because after that, you should have accomplished something.”

Her words still ring in your ears as you sit at your desk this morning.

Yeah…something. All you need to do is accomplish something in the next three months before you are officially, 29 + 1.

Your fingers tap against your thighs silently while you observe the current debate that is occurring in the conference room. You barely have time to sweep the falling hair back behind your ear as your fingers ferociously fly across the keyboard to keep in track with the meeting.

Fei is arguing that the implement of a new search word system would boost users while Daniel says that it is a waste of resources. Instead, everything should be put into updating the entire system as a whole. You have long since lost track of their words as neither pertain to what you do as an intern.

“Enough,” the CEO of DailyHive holds up a hand. His one word causes the entire room to hush over – truly, the words of a god.

And that might as well be what he is. With his hair swept back and a lone tendril curling perfectly above his brow, Kim Seokjin is legitimately a walking god. Off his broad shoulders hang an expensive white linen suit bought with his pocket change and your yearly salary. A pair of sunglasses hangs in the V of the collared shirt dipping low enough to blur the lines between being fashionably professional and just downright sexy.

The snap of his fingers brings you back to the present.

He dramatically rolls his eyes and accepts that you are an incompetent minute-taker.

“I have to remember that the world just doesn’t move as fast as I do.”

- Quote: Rolling Stones 2019 Kim Seokjin.

Now if only he’d remember he had once said that.

He points at each of them with one finger, then swipes to the left. “Both of you, solve this outside. I don’t want to hear your voices any longer. You two from the marketing team, Ungroomed Stache and Acne Chin, create me a report if we are to implement Ms. Song’s idea. The two of you from…” he takes a pause here clearly having forgotten who his employees are, “The two of you do the same thing but for Mr. Hwang.”

The pair from accounting open their mouth to protest that they are in charge of only numbers, but they are ignored.

“All of you out now. Except you,” he points his finger directly at you, “Stay.”

Nobody utters a single word until they have all left and you are left alone with him. Standing before him with your hands folded nicely in front of you, you blink and wait.

He stares right back at you, picks up his coffee mug and drops it. The clatter of ceramic smashing against the ground causes a pause in the loud buzz outside the room. You know everybody’s focus has been shifted into the room.

“Do you want to kill me?” he drawls.

You take a long inhale. “No,” you say.

“No?” he repeats the word, “Well I think you do. Did you check this coffee before you brought it to me? I tasted cinnamon in it. You know how I’m allergic to cinnamon. Get me a new cup. And this mess, get somebody to clean it. I don’t want the smell of coffee in this room when I have my next meeting here in twenty. I’m taking a smoke a break.”

He stands up and brushes past you without saying anything else.

Nobody can be allergic to cinnamon. Besides if he had actually tasted cinnamon and was that sensitive, he would be dead. And good riddance to that.

Of course, you say none of this and wordlessly begin to pick up the broken ceramic pieces of the dead mug. The bustling outside the meeting room has returned back to its normal state of chaos. Seeing the ugly stain of coffee on the once pristine carpet causes you to swear beneath your breath.

“Who the fuck is allergic to cinnamon?” a new voice says, sliding up beside you.

The second god in DailyHive; the much nicer and evidently preferred Kim; Taehyung takes the mug pieces from you and drops it into the garbage bin.

Blessed with not only intelligence but devilishly model-like features, he is your desk buddy in the small space allotted for interns and your sole friend in the company.

“Tae,” you sigh with exasperation upon seeing your lifesaver, “What am I going to do about this stain? He’s going to return in fifteen and there’s no way I can get a coffee stain out of this expensive-ass carpet.”

Taehyung taps a long finger to his lips, leaves the room briefly, and returns with a roll of Bounty sheets and a can of Febreze. He promptly blots as much of the coffee off from the carpet then proceeds to pull the meeting table.

“C’mon, Y/N, don’t just stand there. Help me! Time is of the essence!”

You laugh and join him in moving the table so that one of the legs cover the stain 80% of the way. Once he is satisfied, he takes the Febreze and sprays until the whole room smells like “Hawaiian Aloha”.

“You’re welcome.” He gives an extravagant bow, the motion popping open the top button of his shirt to expose a surprisingly chiseled chest.

Fei returns back into the room holding a phone to her ear and a clipboard in her left hand. “What the hell? It smells like a Bath & Body Works in here. Intern, aren’t you supposed to be filing or something? Stop standing around and be useful.” She grips Taehyung’s arm and drags him out of the room. “Button up. This is a professional workplace.”

You give him a tiny wave as Taehyung is steered away by his girlfriend and back to the cubicles.

Taehyung may be your saviour at work, but outside, it cannot be denied that your brother is the true Fountain of Life.

A week has passed since the coffee incident (you suspect a cleaning personnel had found the stain and cleaned up after your improv as aforementioned stain can no longer be found), but Jimin still brings it up.

“I still can’t believe that he said he was allergic to cinnamon. I’ve never heard of such bullshit before,” your brother says over the phone. You can practically hear his eyeroll from across the world.

As a renowned ophthalmologist, you have not seen Jimin for close to a year as he has been initiating his new clinic, a flying eye hospital.

“You should hear his Starbucks order. I always feel like I’m ready to launch my next EP whenever I’m at the counter,” you say.

Jimin laughs. There is the muffled sounds of voices as his never-ending flow of patients have arrived for the day.

“I shouldn’t keep you,” you say upon hearing that, “You’re probably really busy.”

“No,” he says, “I’ve got a few minutes if you’ve got a few. I miss talking to my baby sister.”

“I’m not a baby anymore, Jiminie,” you say using the nickname he hated.

“Oh that’s right. Your birthday’s in a little under three months, right? My baby sister is turning the big three-oh.”

“God, don’t remind me.”

“Want me to come visit you?”

You contemplate the idea once, having not seen Jimin in quite a while.

“Only if you have time. But I feel like Mom and Dad would probably want to see you more. Speaking of which, um… How are Mom and Dad?”

“They’re good. I hear Dad is finally going to retire this year. He’s giving his practice to Kibum, you remember him? Mom will probably start pestering us about what to do for his retirement party.”

There is a pause.

“You know, it wouldn’t hurt to say hi to them once in a while.”

You sigh. “And say what? Hey, it’s me. The child that ran away from home at 18? Yeah, I’m not a doctor like everybody else in the family but a 29 year old intern at a popular app company. Whassuuup?”

“Y/N, that’s not what I – ”

“It’s okay, Jimin. I’ve come to accept that not everybody is cut out to be a doctor. I just wish Mom and Dad could realize that.”

Jimin sighs on your behalf. There is the sound of a crying child coming through the earphone. “Well, your contract expires a few weeks after your birthday, right? Who knows, you might be the next Mark Zuckerberg.”

He has never explicitly inquired about your life plan and you know this is as much as he is willing to push without asking, “What’s next after this intern hiccup?” At least he had the decency to compare you to a controversial Internet entrepreneur.

The child is crying much louder now.

“Again with my birthday. But I’ll let you know,” is the only reply you can come up with at the moment. “Okay, brother, go forth and heal the blind. I bless thee in the name of the Holy Spirit, Son and Ghost.”

There is true laughter that rings from Jimin as he ends the call. “It’s Father, Son and Holy Ghost you dweeb. I love you sis.”

“You too.” You hang up first before he can add anything else.

With that, you enter into the 7am Starbucks queue and prepare yourself in running the first single of your long overdue EP.

Seokjin leans back in his chair, watching you from inside his office. Today he has chosen a black turtleneck and a brazen maroon-nearly purple suit jacket to complete the outfit. For once, there is an empty mug of coffee beside him and his morning headache has been appeased.

He knew he had given you an impossible task.

“Compile all the troubleshooting errors we have received since the launch of DailyHive. Organize it in a manner that allows me to identify the most prominent problem. Run it through whomever you please before giving it to me. I don’t need to waste my time correcting your mistakes.”

There is an amused smile that bubbles beneath his otherwise stoic features. He cannot deny that there is, might he dare say, a cute quality about you as you manually scan through the received concerns on your laptop dating back to the initial beta tests – the ones that were lost in a data crash and only backed up with unintelligible scribblings of previous interns.

The moment you had been introduced as the new intern, you had caught his eye. You are exquisitely mundane, and perhaps the reason you had even caught him the first time was due to solely to the fact that you were older than most interns – himself even. Nevertheless, you continue to present him small surprises in your tenacity and capability to tackle challenges.

“Mr. Kim.”

His intercom comes alive with the voice of his secretary.

Seokjin’s eyes do not leave you as he answers.

“Mr. Hwang is on line two. Would you like me to defer him to a later time if you are currently busy?”

Seokjin cannot help but sigh. Hwang Junho, his co-founder, while a genius in international business is also a notorious chatterbox and gossip. There is seldom a reason for Junho to call him except to relay the cover titles of E!Magazine.

“Did he mention a reason for calling?” Seokjin inquires.

His secretary seems to be reading from a note. “He says it’s to do with the company. Something he read from Cosmopolitan this morning.”

So not E! but another sister celebrity gossip blog. He checks his watch and duly notes that he certainly has no meetings scheduled until later in the afternoon where your report would be needed to run a preliminary analysis.

“Sir?”

“Yes, put him through. But tell him I’ve got only five minutes, so he’s better give me the Cliffnotes version,” Seokjin sighs again.

Before he can be connected, Seokjin quickly says, “What’s the name of that intern again?”

“Who?” his secretary asks, “We’ve hired four since the beginning of the year.”

“The one who keeps wanting to poison me.”

“I’m sorry, Sir?” she sounds concerned.

“The one who keeps forgetting that I despise cinnamon.”

There is no response.

“The older one. Spilled coffee a while ago but still has enough coordination to pull together a decent report.”

“Ah,” she says.

He waits patiently as she searches through the database, eventually giving him your name. He gives a slight pause and then says, “Good. Now patch me with Junho.”

There is a momentary buzz as the call becomes connected in which Seokjin turns over the syllables of your name wordlessly.

“Mr. Kim. The man of the hour. How are you, my brother?” Junho’s baritone fills the office in a manner of seconds.

Despite the little annoying quirks, Seokjin cannot help but smile when hearing the voice of his best friend.

“You’ve got three minutes, Junho.”

Junho grumbles. “That’s not my fault. You were the one still on the line with your secretary. Is it still Yerin? ‘Cuz I won’t blame you if that’s the case. Did I catch you doing some naughty phone sex during office hours?”

“Two.”

“Holy hell. Fine. It’s always business with you. That’s why the tabloids are always writing you as an uptight asshole.”

This shifts Seokjin’s attention to the phone. His name is seldomly mentioned except for the features in business columns. He prefers to stay out of the limelight.

“What?”

“Put your name on Google.”

Seokjin does as he is told.

There are millions of results, but the first few pages share the same headline. He clicks on the first one with a grimace.

“Kim Seokjin. Mr. Worldwide Handsome as noted by his fans, has recently sparked Internet outrage.”

A quick skim of the otherwise trashy article brought to the surface a summary: his last dating scandal had ended badly and the repercussions of blowing off a famous celebrity’s daughter had finally caught up with him. The Internet was calling him arrogant, narrow-minded, and even greedy. “The young Chief Executive Officer of booming social media app DailyHive has been accused of using his relationship with actress XYZ to further his own business. Once he gained recognition from aforementioned relationship, he has cold-heartedly cast her away to pursue his next.” “You’re calling me for this bullshit?” Seokjin scoffs. Junho tuts his tongue loudly. “This is not bullshit. It’s affecting the image of your company. Do you think people want to download and support an app that is run by somebody who is being called cruel and dishonest? You’ve got to address this soon before it gets out of control. You’re lucky I have alerts set for these type of things. I caught it for you just in the nick of time.” Seokjin inhales deeply. “You’re also lucky that I’ve got the perfect solution in mind.” “That is?” “The Silver Gala,” Junho references the prestigious event. The Silver Gala is hosted annually and attended by the largest celebrities as well as other wealthy investors and guests. Those in the social circle shared between Seokjin and Junho often yearned for tickets to attend events such as this, as they serve as excellent networking opportunities. Besides the above, such events are circled by reporters and writers of gossip columns to get the exclusive scoop on any eyebrow-raising rumours. “The solution lies in such an event,” Junho continues, “You know how many people will be there. All you’ve got to do is show up with your average girl-next-door type and it’ll show how you’re actually really humble and down to earth. Kim Seokjin is perfectly capable of dating like any regular human being. He doesn’t use “love” or whatever to further his business. Love is the connection between two souls; two individuals who – ” “Beep. Your time has run out Junho. I’ve got another meeting scheduled right this moment,” Seokjin interrupts. “Dude, seriously. Think about it. You could bring Yerin. Everbody loves a good CEO and his secretary affair. And if that’s too juicy for you, I can introduce you to some girls. Or maybe we could go back to our university days and hit a bar, y’know?” Junho tries his best to persuade. “Fuck!” you swear beneath your breath right as you walk into Kim Seokjin’s office. His door had been open and, in your excitement to show your completed report, you had dropped all the loose papers on the ground. Four hours of organization gone, just like that. You hope that at least Seokjin hasn’t heard or noticed you as he had been engrossed in his phone call. Seokjin had in fact noticed you. He can’t help himself but follow the curvature of your bare shoulder as your bangs escape the hold of your scrunchie and sweep across your skin. “Don’t worry, Junho, I’ve just thought about it,” he says with a smile.

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angelicamerlinbarnes · 3 years

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WATCH THIS FIRST TRUST ME: Taylor Tomlinson On Growing Up Religious & Abstinent | CONAN on TBS.

Five, trying to explain to Lila why joining their family is a terrible mistake that she will surely regret for the rest of her life no matter how similar she may be to them in spirit: I love my siblings, because I am an adult, I’m a grown-up, yeah -

Five: My siblings, grown-up men and women, say things like

Five: “UGH. I hate my brother.” And I’m like

Five: What are you, four? (The age, not the number, we all know Klaus loves all of us, we’re not idiots.) (Well, mostly.) Nobody got enough hugs, hug yourself, walk it off.

Five: People who hate their families have unrealistic standards; they think families are made up of these superior beings, and they’re not!

Five: They’re just people, who suck, like the rest of us! That’s how we should introduce them, just like

Five: “These are my people! Luther, Diego, Allison, Klaus, Ben, and Vanya! They do what they can.”

Five: Set the bar low. Have you realized that your family messed you up yet?

Five: Yeah, you find a strange dent in the back of your head, you’re like

Five: “What happened there?” They’re like

Five: “We did our best, that’s what happened there. You were slippery, so.”

Five: You ever have this happen to you as an adult, where you realize your family messed you up based on how other people react when you tell them stories about your childhood?

Five: Stories you thought were fine, cause when you’re a kid you’re stupid?

Five: You’re just like, *does a stupid little dance* “Everybody gets tied in the yard!” Like, you don’t know!

Five: Fast forward ten years you’re at a barbeque, everyone’s goin’ around swappin’ stories like

Five: “Oh my god, my mom was crazy. She used to make us take our shoes off in the house!”

Five: And you’re like, *fake high-pitched laugh* “I know! We wore muzzles at night!”

Five: *keeps laughing hysterically* What happened, why’d everyone get sad? What is it?

Five: *completely serious once again* My siblings are cool. My dad, not so much.

Five: My dad’s very conservative, he still thinks gay people shouldn’t be allowed to get married, which

Five: You’re gonna be real disappointed, buddy, cause all a your kids are gay. Seriously. Allison and Luther are datin’ Ray, Vanya’s got a girlfriend named Sissy - okay well you’d love her name I’ll say that much - Diego and Ben are both mooning after Klaus and Klaus is, well, Klaus. Plus there’s me, and I don’t feel any a that cause I’m lucky, and also I’m not your perfect little girl Dad, never was because I’M A BOY anyway back to the matter at hand

Five: I don’t know, you ever hear older people say stuff and you’re like

Five: “Oh, someone missed a software update!” Like that’s not, can’t just say that anymore.

Five: *spacing out* Out loud.

Five: We’re in a Target. Be quiet.

Five: *back to full-blown peppiness*

Five: It’s crazy! He tortured all of us for eighteen years, and the whole time, he was like

Five: *creepy old man voice* “Homosexuality is a sin.”

Five: And we’re like

Five: “Without homosexuality, you would not have a job. Us sparkly teens put food on your table, don’t bite the jazz hand that feeds you.”

Five: Growing up, he encouraged us to abstain from drugs, and alcohol, and sex, and enjoyment, and we really took all of that to heart, uh.

Five: I mean, Klaus is a recovering addict, Diego smokes weed to sleep, Ben is dead and therefore does whatever the fuck he wants, I’ve drunk more alcohol than there is on the whole ass earth and I know that because I drank every bottle I ever came across in the apocalypse, Allison and Vanya both smoke, I don’t know why, really only Luther followed all the rules and then he got all depressed because Dad sent him to the moon or whatever so now he’s all fucked up too, anyway -

Five: But it’s so easy to mess kids up, I have a lot of respect for my mother - not my father, he was a piece of shit - even babysitting -

Five: I just babysat my siblings, I was so nervous about it, I’m like

Five: “I don’t wanna mess these kids up. (Well, more than they already are.)”

Five: So I’m just gonna do everything myself, and I’m not gonna talk to them.

Five: And everything’ll be fine.

Five: So I go off to do my thing. My siblings, they’re idiots, adorable, they come running after me five minutes after I show up and go

Five: “Hey Five, what was the apocalypse like?”

Five: What? How do I explain severe isolation, desperation, desolation, depression, and survivalist coping mechanisms including assassination and imaginary friends to these children?

Five: How I even begin to explain the pain of loss and loneliness and the helpless hopelessness of knowing you will always be alone and that there’s nothing you can do about it?

Five: It’s complicated! I time-travelled, they died, I was sad, like, whatever, you get it.

Five: But I wanted to be honest, so I thought about it carefully, like

Five: What was the apocalypse like that’s similar to something they’ve done? Like, okay

Five: “Do you remember when you got lost at the grocery store? That was scary, right? But then do you remember the feeling you got when you finally found one of us? How safe and happy and relieved you were? And how you ran up to whoever you found and you grabbed their arm and then you looked up and it wasn’t one of us?”

Five: *takes a sip of scotch* Yeah. Not my best moment. They wouldn’t let me sleep alone that night, all cuddled up around me like a bunch a octopuses. Fuckin’ annoying.

Five: *waves a dismissive hand* Anyway. I love them. You still wanna join the family?

Lila:

Lila: *slowly shakes her head*

Five: *grins*

Five: Yeah, that’s what I thought. Thanks for killing your mom for us though!

Five, teleporting away: Bye!

Lila:

The Handler’s ghost: You need to get better taste in men.

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dat-carovieh · 3 years

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Got some interpretation on Hank’s character that got prompted by some discussion on Discord about the stickers on Hank’s work desk. They all seem to somehow send a message about some boomer guy who is racist about androids, hates his ex-wife, is in general a grumpy asshole who is a prick to everyone. But is he really and if not, how do you explain the stickers?

So, let’s first have a look at who Hank interacts with throughout the game to see if he really is a grumpy prick like the stickers suggest. We will get to the stickers later. I will not include Connor for now, because I think that has been talked about a lot also this post is already a novel. But let’s talk about side characters.

We have of course his co-workers. Most memorable is probably Gavin. He clearly doesn’t like Gavin and Gavin clearly doesn’t like him. Gavin is pretty shitty to Hank, despite Hank being his superior. So I think Hank calling Gavin an asshole and not being friendly with him makes sense. How about other co-workers, we don’t see a lot. I can only think of Ben and Chris. They seem to be respecting each other. In Partners Hank arrives, gets greeted by Ben, has a polite conversation about what happened, Ben teases him a little, Hank does not get rude about it, maybe a bit grumpy, but well he’s annoyed about his new partner. He than walks around the crime scene and asks questions. When he talks, he is polite to the person he talks to. He talks to Chris in public enemy (Please excuse if I forget instances, I have played the game a couple of times, but my brain isn’t perfect) He enters, he makes a joke, in my opinion it’s funny and in no way rude, he’s annoyed with the FBI, yeah but I think that’s normal. He asks Chris questions, listens to him, polite conversation, they seem to clearly respect each other and have a good and professional relationship. Later Hank is clearly really affected by what happened to Chris, no matter if he got killed or not.

Jeffrey is a little harder. They do yell at each other, it’s not really pretty, there are clearly issues between them. They go way back and I can imagine they butt heads a lot because Jeffrey is disappointed in Hank for letting himself go and giving in to his depression and alcoholism. I can imagine he had tried to help Hank and he resisted a lot, Hank seems like the type. So there is a lot of tension that comes out between them.

I mentioned the FBI earlier, so clearly, we have to talk about Perkins, THAT MOTHER FUCKER. Yeah, I hate him, he’s an asshole, Hank thinks the same. But honestly Perkins was super rude from the beginning. Chris introduced them and instead of a “Hello” or whatever his first words were “What is that” about Connor. Yeah, fuck off Perkins. Hank has actually been really polite with him there, if you take in the circumstances.

Let’s move to the Eden Club. Who does he interact here? Ben, briefly, polite professional, he calls Gavin an asshole, when he’s not there, he doesn’t really say anything to Gavin when they’re in the same room, despite Gavin being a little shit again. Eden Club owner? He’s polite as he questions him, he does mention that he likes his dog more and more the more he learns about humans, which honestly, if you look at why he says that, understandable. Then the Traci, this is easily missed, I only saw it on my fourth playthrough, he is trying to gently let her down and it’s incredibly adorable. The guy who supposedly absolutely hates Androids and thinks they’re just machines tries to not hurt this android sexworker’s feelings even though he believes she doesn’t even have feelings.

We see a little bit of his private life at Chicken Feed where he meets Pedro, a guy who apparently gives him questionable betting advice and last time Hank apparently lost quite a bit of money with Pedro’s advice. But he’s not mad. He mentions it but he is quickly convinced to bet again and he’s in general super friendly to Pedro. Gary, the guy who owns Chicken Feed, him and Hank also seem to have a good relationship. Someone who wouldn’t want to interact with humans and who is annoyed by them (like me sometimes) wouldn’t actually built a connection to the guy you buy your food from. I’m talking from personal experience here. Yes, I’m always friendly to service workers I interact with but I don’t really say more than greeting, thanking, wishing a good day and anything important for whatever I’m buying. Hank clearly knows him better and talks to him. Jimmy is less clear but the way he says to him “Wonders of technology, make it double” it seems like they know each other, they chat on occasion. And I think that extends to other Service workers. He would be friendly at the grocery store when something doesn’t work out r at the restaurant when getting the wrong dish. You know like millennials are, because he is a millennial.

That we go to Kamski. I’m not sure why he seems nervous while talking to Chloe because I’m pretty sure with all his experience he doesn’t get nervous in front of a pretty woman, that seems like it would be really bad for the job. I don’t know what’s with this, maybe cause she’s an android and he’s not sure how to interact with her? But he is very polite to her, greets her and asks for Kamski. Despite her being an android, he supposedly hates. He is less polite to Kamski, but he’s a little shit, who honestly is wilfully withholding information from the police, which is a crime, but he’s rich so I guess he gets away with it.

So, what about the Stickers than? Let’s have a look at the Stickers and see what we have.

I’m just gonna list what we see there, so you don’t have to get through my grainy screenshots and also, it’s accessible for screenreaders.

We have three categories, let’s start with anti Android: -“We don’t bleed the same color” -a blue triangle, crossed out, underneath it says: “No more androids”

That’s it, only two, we know he doesn’t like androids but like mentioned before he is still really polite to them, well his relationship with Connor is starting bumpy and based on player choices might get bumpier. But what is it, he hates? He doesn't like androids in their non-deviated state because of what humans want them to be, he hates that humans basically built human shaped slaves. And honestly, I kinda get it. Connor shoots the Tracis? Hank likes Connor less. Hank shoots Chloe, Hank is mad. Connor spares them? Hank tells him he did the right thing. Connor asked him why he didn’t want him to chase Kara across the highway and the first thing he says is “You could have died” before he remembers he’s supposed to hate androids. Yes, he gives positive feedback when Connor shoots the kitchen android but he was actively threatening all of their lifes.

Next, we have a sticker mentioning an ex-wife, only one. It says: “If I wanted to be ignored I’d talk to my ex-wife” There is something else there but it’s blocked by another sticker.

Seems like classical boomer humour “Haha I hate my ex-wife” or it’s ironic. There is no other instance of an ex-wife being mentioned. For all we know, he might have never been married. Hell he might be gay. Cole might have been adopted. The sticker might be ironic. Or he got it from somewhere and just sticked it on or he did it very shortly after the breakup when he was pretty mad.

Third are the grumpy ones. We have more from them. -“If you’re not a bartender, go away!” twice -“How is my driving? Call: 1-555-IDONTCARE” twice -I’m not grumpy. I just don’t like you.” -“Warning, to avoid injury, don’t tell me how to do my job” -“If you have a complaint, please do to hell.” -“Happy people make me sick”

This screams edgy millennial to me. Also the fact he has stickers twice seems like he just got them somewhere and slapped them on because he found them funny. He didn’t buy them specifically.

The bartender ones? Don’t we all like to make fun of our mental illnesses? He knows he’s an alcoholic, might as well make fun about it. The ones about driving? Wouldn’t you stick them on your car? Why is this in the office? Because they’re stupid but somehow funny, just slap them on there. I’m not grumpy? I would totally say that as well. And I believe people told them he’s grumpy so he probably saw this as fitting. I have to admit I don’t have a specific interpretation to telling him hoe to do his job and the complaint one. The one about happy people? This man is heavily depressed, that’s a coping mechanism, it’s again making fun of your own mental illness. But yes, all in all they boil down to edgy millennial.

I’m well aware that this is probably not what David Cage intended but to be honest I don’t care what David Cage intended. He tried to push boomer Hank on us with these stickers but the Hank we got was different. I don’t know if that’s Clancy’s doing or if this is just another plothole. But that is my interpretation of Hank, nobody asked for.

Anyway, I love Hank and I’m making it everyone’s problem.

#Detroit Become human #Hank Anderson #I love him your honor

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shortnotsweet · 3 years

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The Allegory of the Tin Man, the Dictator, and the Knight: a Dissection of Ironqrow and a Character Arc of Failure

“There lived in the Land of Oz two queerly made men who were best of friends. They were so much happier when together that they were seldom apart.”

— L. Frank Baum

A brief Ironqrow meta and character analysis of James Ironwood, the ultimate screw up, in three parts.

I. Qrow and Ironwood’s Homoeroticism in Canon Source Material and its Translation

II. Ironwood’s Repressed Characterization and the Inherent Chivalry of the Dictatorship

III. Ironwood, Alone

Qrow and Ironwood’s Homoeroticism in Canon Source Material and its Translation

Within the Oz series, the Tin Man and the Scarecrow are layered within homoerotic subtext, even if it is included unintentionally. Tison Pugh’s analysis Queer Utopianism and Antisocial Eroticism in L. Frank Baum's Oz Series posits that the land of Oz as portrayed within the series is a largely asexual environment of suspended adolescence that involves the deviation of binary gender norms, and of performative heterosexuality. Pugh refers to it later as a “queer utopia”. Men are portrayed as a lesser military force to women, and heterosexuality is a flimsy presence at best; all signs of procreation within Oz are stifled. While this could be chalked down to Baum not wanting to get into the subject of sex and exploration in a children’s series, it does contribute to a particular tone with real-life critiques of capitalism and a particular deconstruction of gender norms. Ozma, who will become the ruler of Oz after the Wizard and the Scarecrow respectively, for example, is originally a boy named Tip (the name itself holds phallic implications) who is “transformed” into a girl. The strongest military force is one of all-women led by a rebellious female general. Pugh observes, “At the same time that Baum satirizes...women as leaders…he consistently depicts women as more successful soldiers than men, and female troops appear better capable of serving militarily than male troops…[the] male army comprises of twenty-six officers and one private, and they are all cowards…” and cites the Frogman’s declaration that “Girls are the fiercest soldiers of all...they are more brave than men, and they have better nerves”.

RWBY itself isn’t opposed to this kind of subversion, either in its characters or its relationships. There’s an obvious effort to include LGBTQ+ representation (albeit primarily in the background), strong female characters are prevalent and make up most of the main and supporting cast, a character’s gender is not strictly reliant on its source material, and BlackSun, while cute and a valid ship in its own right, is treated as a heterosexual red herring to Bumbleby. Additionally, there have been a lot of hints by the voice actors, writers, and creators on social media that Qrow himself is queer, the infamous Ironqrow embrace included.

Admittedly, if I wanted to write an essay about the likelihood of Qrow being LGBTQ+ or having some kind of queer identity, I would probably focus more on his relationship with Clover, which had a lot more overt and probably canonically intentional Gay Vibes, and despite having known Qrow nowhere near as long as Ironwood has, it has just as much, if not more, to extrapolate. Unfortunately, that’s not the main point of this essay, although it remains relevant. While I personally don’t doubt that Qrow has had sex with women or experiences valid sexual attraction to them, I get the feeling that it is, to a degree, a performative act and a masculine assertation of enjoyment intended as a coping mechanism. It plays into the trope of the handsome, tortured alcoholic (best exemplified, perhaps, in the MCU’s Tony Stark, Dean Winchester in Supernatural, and critiqued in the superhero episode of Rick and Morty) who sleeps around just to recall the feeling of intimacy, or because he associates sexual ‘degradation’ as a reflection of his worth. Real self-deprecating, slightly misogynistic stuff. Qrow’s recall of short skirts, as well as his brief exchange with the waitress in an earlier volume, reminds me of one specific interaction between the Scarecrow and his own love interest. Within the series, the Qrow’s source-material counterpart, the Scarecrow, has one canonical love interest, the Patchwork Girl:

“Forgive me for staring so rudely,” said the Scarecrow, “but you are the most beautiful sight my eyes have ever beheld.”

“That is a high compliment from one who is himself so beautiful,” murmured Scraps, casting down her suspender-button eyes by lowering her head.

Pugh points out that the two of them never develop this relationship further than flirtation, and heterosexuality is reduced to a “spectral presence” lacking the “erotic energy [driving] these queer narratives in their presence”. Specifically, Qrow never reveals a serious or long running heterosexual love interest - he is not the father! [of Ruby] (despite much speculation that he and Summer Rose were involved) and he and Winter never really moved past the stage of ‘hostility with just a hint of sexual tension’ - and there is no debunking of potential queerness. His interactions with Clover (deserving of an entire essay on its own) seem to support this interpretation, and is more or less a confirmation of some kind of queer inclination or identity. Again, the “queer utopia” of Oz comes at the cost of the expulsion of the sexual or the mere mention of reproduction - still, through this device, same-sex relationships gain a new kind of significance with the diminishing nature of heterosexuality. Speaking of queer narratives, the Scarecrow and the Tin Man have the most tender and prolonged relationship of perhaps all the characters in the series, exchanging a lifelong commitment:

“I shall return with my friend the Tin Woodman,” said the stuffed one seriously. “We have decided never to be parted in the future.”

Within the source material, the Tin Man and the Scarecrow voluntarily live together, and are life partners in nearly every sense of the word. The second book in the Oz series is The Tin Woodman of Oz. In summary, the Tin Woodman recalls that he had a fiancée before the events of the first book, forgot all about her, and now must search her out so that they can get married. Who does he ask to accompany him in this pursuit? None other than his no-homo life partner, the Scarecrow. Although this sounds like a stereotypical heteronormative storyline, “this utopian wonderland...rejects heterosexual procreation...First, the Tin Woodman does not desire...Nimmie Amee...” and even acknowledges that due to the ‘nature’ of the heart that the Wizard had given him, he is literally incapable of romantically or passionately loving or desiring Nimmie, and by extent, women in general - to me, that works perfectly as an allegory for a gay man who is literally incapable of experiencing legitimate heterosexual urges, but ‘soldiers on’ out of obligation and societally enforced chivalry. “The Tin Woodman excuses himself from the heteronormative imperative...Only his sense of masculine honor, rather than a heteronomratively masculine sex drive, impels the Tin Woodman on his quest to marry his long-lost fiancée.” Again, Ironwood’s character follows the lines of propriety within the sphere of the wealthy elite, and his persona as a high-ranking military man and politician, as well as the conservative values instilled within Atlas, prioritize duty and obligation. This kind of culture is stifling and in a lot of ways aloof, as the upper class deludes itself into believing that it is objectively better and more advanced than its neighboring territories. *ahem the myth of American exceptionalism ahem*

“There lived in the Land of Oz two queerly made men who were best of friends. They were so much happier when together that they were seldom apart.”

I think it’s funny that the characters that Ironwood and Qrow are based off of are canonically the closest of friends, who coexist almost as a unit. In contrast, the first introduction we get of Ironwood and Qrow is a hostile exchange where they’re at each other’s throats, never on the same page, and never in sync, not when it matters. Indeed, Qrow snaps at Ironwood for his lack of communication, which is a recurring issue between the two of them on notable occasions. If the source material is anything to go by, there should be a significant relationship between the two of them, or at least some kind of connection, even if it goes unspoken or unacknowledged. To be fair, in RWBY’s canon, I think there is.

I’ve seen this joke that while Qrow hates the Atlas military, the only people he really seems to flirt with is Atlas military personnel. “Ice Queen” is something I interpreted to be partially hostile, partially mocking, and partially flirtatious, in equal spades - the voice actors and creators have indicated that it was flirtatious, and there was a whole Chibi episode dedicated to the concept of Qrow and Winter’s extrapolated sexual tension, albeit in jest. I might argue that his use of abbreviates aren’t reserved for people he dislikes, but for people who bring out his playful side. “Brat”, “Pipsqueak”, “Firecracker”, and “Kiddos” are all drawn from a place of affection, however short or mocking it may seem, because that’s what crows do: they mock others.

Qrow has little nicknames for people; while it’s not exclusively a sign of affection, I do get the feeling that ‘Jimmy’ is an informality that irks Ironwood, but can also be interpreted as Qrow giving James what he needs, rather than what he wants.

Glynda is by no means a pushover, but in assuring him that while he does questionable things, he’s still a good person, she’s softening the blow and probably further enabling deeply rooted and pre-existing traits, many of which contribute to his problematic control complex. It is established early on that Qrow resents the military (as he should), and it is implied that he’s spent a fair amount of encounters harassing and provoking military personnel (Winter being the most evident example of this), and has insulted the military numerous times to Ironwood’s face. He lectures Ironwood about the way he conducts his operations, his inability to communicate, and basically what a complete, inconsiderate asshole he really is.

What Ironwood needs is someone who operates outside of the pretense that he works, breathes, and lives under, and just tells it like it is. Jimmy isn’t all that - he’s a person, just like the rest of us, and he can flaunt all the titles that he wants, but James stripped down is still just Jimmy.

Qrow also is the kind of person who pries, who is insistent, and not particularly sensitive. For someone like Ironwood who has a lot of (physical and emotional) barriers, logically, in order for him to receive genuine understanding, Qrow fits the profile of someone who is invasive but not exploitive, who sees past the cracks in his armor and takes him for what he is. What is just important is that whoever Ironwood is with is someone who makes him want to try not only to be better, but to be real; thematically, General Ironwood seems to have a great respect for but a deep struggle with authenticity. He clearly resents the ignorance and frivolity of Atlas’s wealthy elite, as evidenced by his support for Weiss at the dinner party in announcing that “she’s one of the only people making any sense around here”, while struggling to project the facade that he’s carefully created.

See, we don’t have evidence that there is something going on between Ironqood and Qrow so much as we have enough evidence to inconclusively say that there’s not not something going on. I think there’s enough evidence to support the idea that something could be going on, or was going on.

When Qrow saves Ironwood at the Battle of Beacon, who is under the false impression that Qrow believes him to be the culprit of the attacks, his eyes follow Qrow and we get a closer shot of his awed expression; we the viewer can only imagine what he sees as Qrow arcs through the air and slices down a Grimm from behind his back. The focus on Ironwood’s expression portrays something like shock (so Qrow wasn’t trying to attack me after all, but then what the hell is he doing?), maybe wonder (I can’t take my eyes off of him, I can’t look away), maybe respect (I know he’s a good Hunter, but I’ve rarely seen him in action), but it is unfiltered nonetheless. In a show where fight scenes are vital to the progression of the story itself, the dynamics of these fights are at their best when they are character driven, whether it is revealing or reinforcing something about the characters and their relationships, or it is deciding their fates. There’s something to be said about characters being given moments together in battles, and what that says about the significance of their relationship. The best example of this might be the battle between Blake and Yang vs Adam; it served to give Adam what he deserved, help Blake and Yang reach closure in certain aspects of their own trauma, and solidify the bond between the girls. Similarly, Qrow and Ironwood’s moment is meant to reveal a theme that will later be revisited in volume 7; trust. Ironwood is startled but not shocked when he believes that Qrow distrusts him to the degree of attacking him, and is ready to attack or defend as needed.

Qrow tells him what he needs to hear, more or less: YOU’RE A DUMBASS. Ironwood is, indeed, a dumbass. While he does extend the olive branch of trust and good will to CRWBY and co. this trust is highly conditional and proves to be, while from a place of desperation and sincerity, at least partially performative.

When Ironwood snaps, he snaps hard.

Amber’s voice actress tweeted early on, joking that Qrow has two Atlas boyfriends, and Arryn has made comments, too. It’s one of the older ships, and the crew is certainly aware of it (“...extended chest bump...”).

Kerry has stated that he finds the Ironqrow relationship interesting, and wishes it had been explored more (additionally, allegedly lobbying that Ironwood’s arm in the Ironqrow hug scene be slightly lower). I’m not saying that they’re going to both make it out alive, or canon, or even that romantic subtext was intentionally woven into the script. All I’m saying is that I think their relationship is interesting too, especially when the subtext of their source material relationship is taken into context, and the way their characters are positioned is suggestive of some sort of compatibility, even if it is a hit or miss kind of opportunity, and I have the sinking suspicion that it was missed on both accounts.

The Tin Woodman of Oz concludes,

“All this having been happily arranged, the Tin Woodman returned to his tin castle, and his chosen comrade, the Scarecrow, accompanied him on the way. The two friends were sure to pass many pleasant hours together in talking over their recent adventures, for as they neither ate nor slept they found their greatest amusement in conversation.”

Ironwood’s Repressed Characterization and the Inherent Chivalry of the Dictatorship

“I don’t give a damn about Jacque Schnee...what about the other two? Do not return to this office until you have Qrow Branwen in custody.”

“And that’s not all we’ve lost...I had Qrow in my hands, and I didn’t do what needed to be done.”

Observe: Ironwood, at this point, does not care about politics. I doubt he’s ever wanted to, or ever liked it (if his tired outburst at the dinner party is any indication) but his Knightly qualities (we’ll get to that) have, up till this point, prompted him to adhere to them for both power and etiquette. James surrounds himself in a world that he understands and despises; more than anything, he’d like to be a general, a commander, and the Knight in Shining Armor archetype, because warfare is something he understands. It is a testament to his (superhuman) willpower that he forces himself to become fluent in the language of politics, and to live and breathe in it. To clarify, Ironwood sees himself as a man who does what needs to be done; if he wants to change and control Atlas, he will have to involve himself in its politics.

Likely, his resilience has contributed to the way he views himself and what he deserves, as someone long-suffering and almost martyr-like, a silent hero doing what needs to be done. But at the moment, he’s lost his goddamn mind coming undone. He’s murdered and jailed his political dissent (and might have considered executing prisoners), but at this point, that’s all that Jacque and Robyn are to him. First he dismisses Jacque, narrows it down to the two escaped prisoners, and finally reveals what’s really on the forefront of his mind: Qrow, free and out of his hands.

[ When recalling this dialogue, please do so while imagining a bad recorder cover of the Titanic music playing over the background. Here is a sample. ]

In the most recent episode, Ironwood seems to have gone off the rails even further. The fact that Winter, his most faithful lieutenant, is losing her unshakable faith in him, says a lot about how hard he’s fallen off the deep end. In Winter’s mind, I think that she sees him almost as a surrogate father figure, or at least a patriarch who can be positively compared to Jacques in every way. The previous volumes go to lengths to compare the two as adversaries and showing James in a favorable light; Winter is in her own personal horror right now, because she is beginning to understand that Ironwood is a man who may not be her father but is just as susceptible to corruption, and may have been that kind of person all along. Skipping over the...ah, genocidal tendencies, and the fact that he’s proposing to kidnap Penny’s friends to force her to obey him and likely is starting to realize that Winter is the perfect bait (let’s just say that “Ironwood is not good with kids” is the understatement of the year) Ironwood wants Qrow back (in captivity), I think that it’s significant that while Ironwood registers that Robyn is gone as well, his first priority is Qrow, probably for two reasons. On one hand, he still refers to Qrow by his first name, instead of the formal Branwen. Of course, that doesn’t have to mean anything at all. They’re colleagues within the same age range, both members of the same secret brotherhood and similiar skill sets.

On the other hand, it reminds me of the moment when Qrow and the kids first fly into Atlas, and they see the heightened security, and Qrow mutters, “James...what have you been doing,” under his breath, sounding concerned, apprehensive. He’s not addressing the kids, he’s talking to himself; he regards James much more seriously both as a potential threat and a friend than he’d rather the other know, and I think that James’ focus on Qrow at this point is similiar, only not only is this a sign of them knowing each other well, but of Ironwood’s slipping control. He offered Qrow his trust and camaraderie, his last attempt to keep a handle on his humanity (or, his heart). Qrow, in return, withheld vital information, got close with another operative instead, then allegedly killed him and and escaped ‘rightful’ imprisonment.

The Tin Man is offering Qrow his heart, at least proof of it, and the Scarecrow [and co.] steps back to observe the situation, and assesses that no, what you are going to do is wrong, and I cannot agree with it.

Ironwood is not an objective person, as much as he wants to be. He’s angry, desperate, scared, and humiliated. Worst of all, he’s rebuffed, and he’s taking Qrow’s escape personally. First, he understands that Qrow is a threat. He’s Ozpin’s best agent, he has years of field experience, and he knows too much, probably more than James knows. Second, they have history.

My personal interpretation of Ironwood is something this:

He’s a sad, sad, lonely bitch. What Ironwood longs for, just like his source material counterpart, is a heart. He will go to any lengths to achieve this, because he believes that he has self awareness and therefore is able to check and balance himself. He treats his subordinates well, is diplomatic, skilled in a variety of trades, fighting the good fight, and longs for the affirmation that yes, he is a good person, and yes, he’s had a heart all along. He just strays from the path, and loses his way.

This is symbolically represented by his partially mechanic exoskeleton; we have no idea how far the cyborg extremities extend, or how deep, but we do get the visual notion of humanity in conflict, or a man’s soul deconstructed and split between the cold efficiency of machinery and the very real warmth of a human body. Ironwood wants to appear human, and benevolent, and genuine, and in return, loved; he is human, and he could be all of these things. If my reliance on the source material holds any merit (although I highly doubt it), then there is also a potential struggle with sexuality, (Glynda herself even explicitly and exasperatedly references a testosterone battle between Ironwood and Qrow, suggesting a regular overassertation of masculinity) and a further incentive to achieve love and subsequent acceptance.

To clarify, I do believe that there were less-than-subtle allusions to Ironwood and Glynda having a vaguely flirtatious history, taking their shared scenes and background dancing into account, but this, again, does not “debunk” the presence of queerness within a narrative; it could be an assumption of heterosexuality, or performative itself, or just not an exclusive interest. Besides, Ironwitch isn’t what this essay is about. I’m not trying to persuade or dissuade someone of the notion that Jimmy is gay, or straight, or something else, only that the potential ambiguity exists. What I do think is most important is that James doesn’t openly ward people away, not when those people aren’t under his command and are technically outside of his jurisdiction. He’s friendly with Glynda, tries to extend trust to Qrow, is kind to people in the aftermath of battle, and overall clings to diplomacy as his first weapon. He wants to be accepted, to be liked, and to be welcomed. This is not an outrageous want, nor is it uncommon. Unfortunately, Ironwood’s understanding of love and acceptance is entangled within the concept of control, and he associates unquestioned compliance with this Want.

Ironwood’s introduction into the series shows him being openly cordial, and very considerate, especially his interactions with Glynda and Ozpin. He’s a gentleman, he’s apologetic, and, as Glynda assures him, he’s a “good man”. She doesn’t really elaborate on what a “good man” is, exactly, but we might presume that a “good man” is a person with good intentions, who strives to do what’s right, regardless of his options.

Here’s the thing - one similarity between Ironwood and the Tin Man is that they both have the capacity to love, but they fool themselves into thinking that they don’t; before the Wizard gives him a ‘heart’, the Tin Man suggests that he is only kind and considerate to everyone in Oz because he believes he needs to overcompensate for what he lacks, and is therefore doubly aware of how he treats others. However, the Wizard knows no real magic, only tricks and illusions, and what he gives the Tin Man is essentially a placebo that enables the Tin Man to act towards and feel about others the exact same as he always had, only with the validation that what he feels is authentic. Similarly, Ironwood has always had the option to be empathetic and not fucking crazy open to collaboration, which he’s very aware of, until his own paranoia cuts into his rationality and compels him to cut himself off from all allies and alternative perspectives. He then uses his difficult position and responsibilities to justify unjustifiable actions, to rationalize irrational urges, and to gaslight and brainwash his subordinates into compliance.

The Tin Woodman knew very well he had no heart, and therefore he took great care never to be cruel or unkind to anything.

“You people with hearts,” he said, “have something to guide you, and need never do wrong; but I have no heart, and so I must be very careful. When Oz gives me a heart of course I needn’t mind so much.”

Qrow sees through this, however, and not only seems incapable of following orders himself, but disrupts the decorum that Ironwood is used to. In return, I think we see a little more of James that he’d like to reveal.

“If you were one of my men, I’d have you shot!”

“If I was one of your men, I’d shoot myself!”

In case this entire ass essay doesn’t make it obvious, I do really ship Ironqrow. I’m open to other pairings, definitely, but this one in particular is just more interesting to me. It feels more revealing, more subtle. I have more questions.

In hindsight, maybe the dialogue example above ^ didn’t age well, considering where they’re at, but I do like how their professional animosity is flavored with a kind of camaraderie, and understanding. This exchange isn’t exactly playful, but they’re taking each other seriously - and, like repressed schoolboys, taking the piss at each other in a childish way, and isn’t that part of the fun of banter, when they’re so focused on each other that they forget to act their age? In a lot of ways, this is a really fun dynamic to watch. They’re opposite-kind-of-people, which I like, at least on a superficial level, and I can easily imagine them tempering each other in ways that would make them ultimately happier people.

They even look well-coordinated, with similar color schemes that lean on the opposite sides of the shared spectrum (white, grays, reds and black); I think the decorative design on Qrow’s new sleeves are supposed to be more ornate simply to communicate that Qrow is committed, and willing to be sentimental, but some viewers have suggested that it resembles the pattern on James’ weapon, Due Process (the revolver is based off of the Tin Man’s pistol, although, curiously, in The Wizard of Oz, the Scarecrow was the only character to carry a pistol, and the commentaries suggest that the 2007 Tin Man miniseries was the “basis of the allusion”. Does that mean anything? I don’t know. Probably not.). Still, it raises the questions: who was in charge of designing the team’s new clothes and gear? How much input did Atlas get, and was this intentional? Personally, I think that the vine-like pattern on Qrow’s sleeves also bear a resemblance to Ozpin’s staff, a subtle reaffirmation and foreshadowing of his allegiance in contrast to Ironwood, but I digress.

They can also deliver that UST kind of banter that takes up their attention, and get up really close to each other, in each other’s faces, and just be pissed, which I think is very sexy of them, mhm. Enemies to Colleagues to Reluctant Friends to Lovers is a trope that I very much appreciate. Gaining some sort of common ground at the Battle of Beacon only to reunite, tired and battered, after the shit has already hit the fan? Slow burn kinda vibes.

That hug between them was something genuinely vulnerable and a sign of Ironwood letting his guard down because he is tired as fuck. It also was uh...kinda fruity.

Ironwood approaches closer, and Qrow scratches the back of his head, a characteristically nervous gesture that he’s made before; it’s a nervous twitch, manufactured nonchalance. He has no idea what Ironwood wants, but he does know that Ironwood wants something. James is the one to initiate the hug, and Qrow startles and even freezes up before relaxing into it. He seems suprised, but gives the bisexual eye roll of grudging fondness. This is out of character for James - Jimmy - but Qrow doesn’t think that Ironwood is a bad person. He leans into the hug, and the camera cuts out before they separate, suggesting that they probably end up standing there for a long ass time. You can also see from the side shots that it’s a close hug; their torsos are pressed up against each other, front to front, and there’s not a lot of wiggle room. James must be really goddamn depressed. It’s a long, manly, intensley heterosexual hug. Like I said, kinda fruity.

Other people have analyzed the hug shot for shot, so I won’t get too into it, but I think that it was intentionally left as a double red herring; some people thought that maybe he bugged Qrow, and after finding out that he didn’t, we were forced to conclude that this is a genuine olive branch. To find out that Ironwood is sincere but was still susceptible to corruption is that second subversion that I didn’t really expect. I hadn’t prepared myself for it, at least, and neither did Qrow. I wouldn’t go as far to say that Ironwood’s descent into fucking craziness paranoia is triggered by Qrow not ‘reciprocating’ or something, but I do think it’s interesting how the volume opens up with a signifigant interaction between Ironwood and Qrow, only for Qrow to spend the rest of the volume homosexually bonding with Clover, while Ironwood basically has no one as emotional support (again, his subordinates do not have the power or the place to be viewed as equals and the veil of formality is one of isolation). Qrow initiates nothing further, and nothing further happens.

Ironwood’s downfall, in a thematic sense, is that what he Needs is a heart, and when he gets that chance to demonstrate tolerance and empathy, James ultimately rejects his Need (a heart) and his arc reverts into one of villainy. To be specific, Ironwood is essentially a fascist dick, and that is not very sexy. (Speaking of dicks, the thought of Ironwood’s dick makes me laugh. I bet in the RWBY universe, people have made memes about that. I do not accept criticism because I am correct. Anyway,).

Dictators are charming, charismatic, and one of the pillars of their method is absorbing potential political opponents into their own administration to reduce the threat of rebellion, to appear openly tolerant to their supporters, and to further consolidate power. A good example of this would be Mean Girls, which runs on a comedic commentary of dictatorships as a political structure of power. I hate to compare James Ironwood to Regina George, but Regina’s posse includes Karen and Gretchen, two of the only girls who might take away from the authority she holds over the rest of their school, both in their wealth and attractiveness, and Cady’s interesting backstory and conventional attractiveness is the main reason Regina draws her into her own sphere - because she detects a potential threat. Much in the same way, while Ironwood likely has good intentions, his efforts to win over team RWBY and co. - including Qrow himself - is a logical way to consolidate resources. His willingness, at first, to cooperate with political opponents (ie Robyn) is because he’s not inherently evil, and he has nothing to lose. It’s when he is openly opposed and diplomatic gestures no longer hold the necessary weight that he snaps.

In one really interesting meta about Ironqrow’s archetypes (that I reread occasionally just because I really love it), @onewomancitadel posits that Ironwood is framed within the archetype of the Knight in Shining Armor, which should inform us of the moral consistency of his character. The meta was written around the beginning of volume 7, I think, and obviously we have a lot more character development and information to go off of now, but I think she makes a really interesting point about the nature of parallels and how that might help drive Ironwood as a character. I love her analysis of the visual of Ironwood stepping out of an airship wreckage, onto the street, the smoke billowing around him to reveal his cyborg prosthetics, and of the intentional framing. Once his uniform is stripped back, we see a man who is literally half-armor, which could be indicative of a lot of things. He’s emotionally guarded, he’s used as a human weapon, and he wants to be a line of defense. In her words, “The symbolism is really obviously put into perspective of his actions in trying to do the right thing: in the flesh (his true physical self) he is literally a knight in shining armour. From the ground up. Even if it's unseen or distorted by his uniform, his nature is still true.”

While Ironwood clearly has gone down a darker path in the most recent volume, I think this analysis holds true in a crucial way. “Ironwood is working with different information, and he’s doing exactly what he knows: stick to his knightly virtues, even disgraced.” Disgraced, indeed. Ironwood is holding onto his knightly values, and doing what he believes is right. If not right, he believes that it is necessary. The problem is that these values are manifested within Atlas’s sociopolitical-military culture in an inherently toxic way - his response is, at this point, neither rational nor empathetic, but it can be explained partially due to his cultural (flawed) understanding of justice, and because of the extenuating circumstances. The harsher the conditions become, the more difficult it is for anyone to project a facade that is not sincere at its core. If James is to uphold his Knightly virtues, he needs to be a protector, a leader, and a servant all at once while operating under limited intel with dwindling trust. All he has left are the few key players still in his grasp, and the control of the people he is responsible for.

To digress: generally, knights take an oath. It could be to a King, or Lord, or some noble, but Knights are supposed to operate on a code of honor, and chivalry, and to uphold these values throughout the land as an extension of whoever they have pledged themselves to. The story of Sir Gawain and the Green Knight is a really good example of the way that, back in the day, chivalry and honor was supposed to place knights on a moral high ground compared to the common people.

In the middle of a celebration in Camelot, an obligatory tradition that has since lost real value but is rehearsed because Camelot fears that failure to uphold traditions that once had meaning is disrespectful, a Green Knight interrupts the celebrations and offers a strange challenge that boils down to a fight to the death. Gawain volunteers because accepting this challenge is what is expected of him, and Arthur would be humiliated if his knights, supposedly the best in the world, would not rise to the challenge. Gawain - and to a certain extent, the rest of Arthur’s knights - are fickle, in a sense, because their adherence to this code is performative, and it allows them to delude themselves into moral superiority and lie both to the commoners and amongst themselves; their identity as knights is based on a falsehood. Gawain is offered the first blow, and after beheading the Green newcomer, is horrified to see him become reanimated and immune to mortal blows. He invites Gawain to receive his own - likely fatal - blow, and gives him a time in which to meet, before promptly leaving.

Throughout the story, Gawain is tested in a variety of ways - in his final test, he fails, and allows his greed for self preservation and the fear of death to lead him to lie to his hosts and proceed to his meeting with the Green Knight under dishonest pretenses. While he is spared at the last second and becomes a better person (after it is revealed that Morgan le Fay orchestrated the ordeal to spook Queen Guinevere) - and by extent, a truer Knight, by the end of the story, the superficial and hypocritical nature of Arthur’s court is still in question, and still unanswered.

See, the entirety of Gawain’s trials was a test, not necessarily for him, but for Arthur and his court as a whole. Morgan wanted to prove the fickle nature of Arthur’s knights. The Knights of the Round Table were considered the best in the land, and to discredit one was to discredit all. What use is tradition if the meaning is empty, what use is chivalry if it is performed for reward instead of merit, and what use is loyalty if it is blind and unearned? Returning to Oz, the Tin Woodman, or Tin Man, grew to be made of tin because his axe became enchanted by the Wicked Witch of the East to sever his own body parts instead of the lumber he tried to cut down. A nearby tinsmith replaced each amputated limb with one of metal, until his entire body became tin and his meat body had been entirely discarded. Something to note is that Nick Chopper’s, (General Ironwood’s) wounds are technically self-inflicted. Each time he swung his axe, he made the decision to continue, knowing of the end result each time. In losing his bodily functions, the Tin Man believed that he had lost his humanity and ability to love.

The tragedy of his origin story draws a pointed correlation to Ironwood’s current dilemma; his unwillingness to stop, his self-imposed isolation, playing into the hands of the witch, and finally, the decision to let go of his ability to love remain consistent throughout both stories.

Watts even refers to Ironwood as a “Tin Solider”; a reference to the Tin (Woods)Man, no doubt, but could also evoke a soldier clanking around in metal armor. Ironwood is a Knight in Shining Armor, through and through. He wants to save the world, but at the terrible cost of civilian autonomy and possibly life. The problem is that he’s pledged himself to a discriminatory and hypocritical system, and his code is something that can easily be misconstrued by fear ( @disregardcanon ), much as Gawain’s own values. The Tin Man is, after all, still a man, and if we’ve learned anything from real fairytales, it is that men are fallible, whether or not they are made of metal.

Ironwood, Alone

he’s a lonely bitch

I know I f- up, I'm just a loser

Shouldn't be with ya, guess I'm a quitter

While you're out there drinkin', I'm just here thinkin'

'Bout where I should've been

I've been lonely, mm, ah, yeah

— Benee, Supalonely (2019)

You do get the sense that Ironwood is riddled with self-loathing conflicting with pride, with self-doubt clashing with competence, and that he is the kind of person who longs for things without verbalizing. Maybe his dad never paid enough attention to him as a kid. Maybe he suffered some terrible physical and emotional trauma, which might as well be assumed, given the extensive nature of his cybernetic limbs. Maybe (probably) he’d be more well-adjusted and would’ve made better decisions if the people around him trusted him and were a little more open. To be fair, though, he is the one at the wheel, and he is making the calls; no one else is to blame for his mistakes, and to pretend otherwise is to deny him accountability. I think we do enough of that in everyday life, in excusing powerful men of their responsibilities. To his credit, I do think he wants to help people. I think James also wants to project the personality of a leader who is stoic, controlled, and measured. He is charming when he wants to be, sympathetic when it suits him, and influential in just the right areas. He is not a sociopath, but he is a politician, and in a lot of ways, those are the same thing. We see in his brief flashes of temper, often prompted by Qrow, or most notably by Oscar, that this is not a calm, stable person. This is someone is on the verge of exploding, who is so fucking angry that he is not in control that it’s killing him, and so he is going to lash out and kill the things that are not within his grip. If the people beneath him will not reciprocate the heart that he offers, then he has no real use of it. James Ironwood does not begin this story as a bad person. This is a tragedy, in however many parts it takes.

I read, in one very smart and very put-together analysis that I cannot find and properly credit at the moment, that part of Ironwood’s (many) failures can be seen in Winter, and how, like Ozpin, he has appointed a woman as his talented, no-nonsense, second chain in command at his right hand. In this way, Winter is an intentional parallel to Glynda, who is, without question, a bad bitch. In theory, surrounding yourself with strong individuals is a demonstration of self restraint, in implementing your own checks and balances. James wants to project that he is powerful, yes, but he is reasonable.

I take this to mean that, to some degree, even if it’s unintentional or subconscious, Winter serves to boost Ironwood’s ego.

The issue with this is that within the inherently hierarchical structure of the military, Winter cannot question, undermine, or challenge Ironwood in a way that is particularly meaningful and their relationship is one of commander and subordinate before colleagues or equals (link to a fantastic post about Winter’s role as the Good, Conscientious Soldier by @fishyfod). Whereas Glynda is free to argue with, converse, and be as combative as she needs to be with Ozpin (although their power dynamic is arguably one of commander and subordinate albeit informally), Winter cannot temper Ironwood effectively, and through the illusion of equality, Ironwood is further isolated.

His head and arms and legs were jointed upon his body, but he stood perfectly motionless, as if he could not stir at all.

Dorothy looked at him in amazement, and so did the Scarecrow, while Toto barked sharply and made a snap at the tin legs, which hurt his teeth.

“Did you groan?” asked Dorothy.

“Yes,” answered the tin man, “I did. I’ve been groaning for more than a year, and no one has ever heard me before or come to help me.”

The Tin Man needs oil to lubricate his joints; without it, he cannot move, and he is rendered helpless and inanimate. When Dorothy and the group find him, he is entirely isolated with no one in sight, and he has been there for such a long time that he has begun to rust. Similarly, Ironwood needs valued voices of dissent to keep him in check. His colleagues were able to serve that purpose in the beginning, and out of them, Qrow is the best example of someone who doesn't take his shit, openly questions him, and looks down on the performative decorum of the military culture that Ironwood is surrounded by. What Ironwood needs is to be flexible and adaptable; his Semblance, Mettle (heh, metal, very nice pun, RoosterTeeth), is a double edged sword in that it gives him supernatural focus and willpower - enough, perhaps, to flay/chop off your own limbs - but it blindsides him, and is only further prolonging his pain.

There is a lot of sympathy to Ironwood’s character, as much as I’ve ragged on him for being an authoritarian, kind of a dick, and bad with kids. There are moments, such as the previously mentioned dinner party, where he shows his colors a bit, and when he assures the students at the Vytal Festival that there’s no shame in leaving before the battle begins, and in giving Yang a prosthetic arm before her father even has to ask. As far as Generals go, it seems that he’s seen soldiers come and go and understands, at least in his best moments, that not everyone is the same, and not everyone has power of unflinching determination to rely on. Ironwood performs his best when he tempers himself because he understands himself, and others. It’s when he fails to self-reflect that his hypocrisy shows through. Glynda points it out, too, as does Qrow; Ironwood advocates for trust but often fails to give it himself, going behind Ozpin’s back, being absolutely shit at field communication, and now the whole fascist, borderline-genocidal keruffle he’s gotten himself into.

I think that Ironwood reaching out to Qrow was his ethical last stand, his last chance and conscious effort to choose the right path. Qrow is unequivocally an equal, not like how Ozpin is the Big Boss, the authority that James becomes disillusioned with and tries to overthrow. He wants someone to trust, desperately so, and Qrow wants that too, but narrative subversion has hands. The Scarecrow and the Tin Man have no brain and heart respectively, and are in need of them. As it turns out, Qrow is actually a pragmatic guy with solid principles angled against authoritarianism, and Ironwood is a dick who would rather enforce martial law than to empathize and tame his military-shaped boner for one second.

I might conclude that someone like Qrow might be best for Ironwood, but that does not mean that someone like Ironwood would be the best for Qrow. Qrow has a brain after all, but Ironwood does not choose his heart when it matters, case in point. Even the intro of the current season features Salem and Ironwood on a chessboard; his white pieces are disappearing, dissolving into dust, as hers transform into Grimm. Ironwood is isolating himself by depleting himself of allies. As this post by @hadesisqueer points out, Ironwood isn’t even positioned as King, the supposed commander, but the Queen, the most versatile player on the board that is so far underused, since he hasn’t moved from his spot. Ironwood’s refusal to unify against Salem is his failure to strategically utilize the best resources that were available to him; soon, the pieces will be swallowed by the dark.

James is guilty of something that a lot of us are guilty of: doing a Bad Thing for what we have convinced ourselves is a Good Reason, when in reality, it is actually a lot of Very Bad Reasons. James Ironwood is a Knight archetype, through and through, and he is charging forward to do the right thing. He is afraid, he is lying to himself, and he will never surrender.

“All the same,” said the Scarecrow, “I shall ask for brains instead of a heart; for a fool would not know what to do with a heart if he had one.”

“I shall take the heart,” returned the Tin Woodman; “for brains do not make one happy, and happiness is the best thing in the world.”

Dorothy did not say anything, for she was puzzled to know which of her two friends was right, and she decided if she could only get back to Kansas and Aunt Em, it did not matter so much whether the Woodman had no brains and the Scarecrow no heart, or each got what he wanted.

The lesson of James Ironwood is a lesson of failure, and of the way that we succumb to fear, because that is Salem’s agenda, really, in the end: fear. It’s the negative emotions, fear being first and foremost, that draw in and empower the Grimm, and it’s fear and uncertainty that causes chaos. It is when Dorothy’s friends give into their fear that they are truly defeated. FDR’s assertion that “The only thing to fear is fear itself” holds true here; it’s not so much that these characters are afraid of losing their lives, their loved ones, and of the dark, but that they do not have the love or the resources to be brave for themselves or for others.

Qrow as a character is introduced as one who is already defeated, in a sense. Half of his team is gone, dead or estranged, he’s forced into the shadows of espionage to protect a world he knows is darker than it should be, and he’s fighting a losing battle with alcoholism. As charismatic as he’s written, he’s referred to as a “dusty old crow”, a hunter of renowned skill but past the prime of his life.

Dorothy’s three titular companions are defined by what they lack; in the same vein of the Disney I Want song (a main character’s main monologue song in which their wants and desires that motivate them throughout the rest of the film is laid out in song; ie Part of Your World, Reflections, How Far I’ll Go), the Lion, Tin Man, and the Scarecrow want bravery, a heart, and a brain respectively. RWBY relies on flipping the script of its characters based on what the audience might expect from the source material; Ruby is not just a helpless little girl - her introduction is a badass with a scythe. The Scarecrow is a chronic alchoholic. Cinderella is a victim of abuse, and is also a villain who wants to set the world aflame. Subversion, subversion, subversion.

There are obviously parallels between the characters in RWBY and in their own fairytales to keep them in character, and part of the fun is spotting those clues and occasionally connecting the dots to anticipate the direction of the narrative and certain connections between characters and the significance of their arcs. While I’m not aware of Dorothy Gale’s RWBY counterpart, if she has already been established or is yet to be introduced, I don’t think it’s unreasonable to assume that Ruby has adopted a Dorothy-eque persona and can act as a surrogate in a way. She begins as a sweet, naive child eager to join a world of color and excitement, who initially believes that she has “normal knees” and is thrust into a political scheme full of powerful and older players. She even has a small dog as a companion, Toto Zwei, who seems like an odd addition, since he’s usually sidelined and basically forgotten about except in a few spare moments, unless he’s there to draw further comparisons to Dorothy. She may not be from Kansas, but she is first helped by Glynda (the Good Witch), and later expects assistance from Ozpin, Qrow, and the later Ozian counterparts. I find it a peculiar detail that for Ruby to be Little Red Riding Hood alone, she is surrounded specifically by Dorothy’s companions. This, of course, only increases the importance of the relevance of the Oz series in particular and the characters that are borrowed.

In the case of Ozpin’s inner circle, Dorothy’s closest comrades (sans Toto) differ in crucial ways to their source material. (After finishing this essay, I found a much better, condensed explanation by @neopoliitan )

Disillusioned by the Ozpin, the Wizard (who has been projecting an illusion of a failsafe) and overwhelmed by the rise of the Wicked Witch of the West, Lionhart (the Lion), gives into his cowardice and ultimately forgoes the arc and redemption of his character from the source material; as such, he is by all definitions, a failure and a premonition, as Ironwood eventually follows. If RWBY is a dark take on classic fairytales, then it is only fitting that these characters are charred husks of their fairytale selves - these are people, and some people are selfish, scared, and cowardly, and they do not overcome these traits.

This is all opinion based, pure speculation. I have no idea what will happen in the next episode, and whatever goes down will be...shit will hit the fan. I’m under no delusions that Ironqrow is going to be canon in a healthy, tender, endgame sense. They’re both kind of losing their minds, and Ironwood is shitting absolute bricks. No, they’re going to try to kill each other, and I personally cannot wait for Qrow to cleave this man in two. (Not sexually, just, literally. Like, with a scythe.)

On that note, I think that the RWBY writers are good at callbacks, at drawing attention to their own connections, and if Ironwood and Qrow’s inevitable confrontation is scheduled, then it will include visual callbacks to Qrow saving James at Beacon, maybe shot for shot. Their visuals have only gotten better as time goes on, and I imagine Ironwood’s eyes widening as Qrow leaps through the air, scythe drawn, in recal of a moment so long ago when they weren’t on the same page, but they were at least on the same side. When Qrow brings the blade down, there will be no enemy behind him. Only Jimmy James. The difference between the two of them will be that Qrow isn’t fighting out of fear, but out of love, for what happened to Clover, and to what could happen to his girls.

Qrow’s reliance on alcohol, as well as his (mostly) feigned nonchalance is meant to fit with the motif that the Scarecrow has no brain, and, had he a mind to desire anything, would desire it most of all. His role is, also, notably, gathering intelligence for Ozpin (his character is also based on Munnin from Norse mythology). There is so much about Qrow that is an act and so much that is not, and I think that this act is born both from this motif and from his own cynicism, and the alcohol contributes to this act. However, he eventually gets sober after Ruby expresses legitimate frustration, and he understands that he’s putting their lives at risk. While one could say that he gave up drinking for the kids, I would argue that the kids - Ruby in particular - made him want to give up drinking for himself, to better himself.

While Lionhart and Ironwood betray the people depending on them, Qrow’s love for his nieces (and for the kids) allows him to deviate from this pattern. The answer to fear is perhaps not merely bravery - Qrow’s triumph is love.

Ironwood knows triumph in the context of a military state, but he’s backed himself into a corner. Soon he will find himself alone and friendless. Hopefully, his last stand will not be in vain.

#ironqrow #james ironwood #qrow branwen #rwby #rwby8 spoilers #rwby volume 8 #rwby meta #ok this is all just based on my opinion ok #like i ship ironqrow but ironwood is a dicktator if u know what i mean #he is probably gonna die but anyway #ironqrow meta #winter schnee #snowbird #also includes links and credit to other posts and metas #I just had to get this off of my chest ok

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laequiem · 3 years

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She kills my self control - Chapter 1

/ Cardan is trying to figure out his feelings for Jude. Lots of pining. Lots of fantasizing. Set during The Cruel Prince.

My eyes follow her hand as she spreads a thick red jam on a piece of bread and brings it to her mouth. Some jam sticks to her cheek and I watch as Taryn leans forward and wipes it away.

cw: unhealthy coping mechanisms (alcohol, sex); physical abuse; nsfw

read on ao3 • next chapter • all chapters

Chapter 1: The one you want the most will be the one that you defy

This morning’s lesson had been boring, as always. What use do I have with plant taxonomy? The afternoon’s lecture is even more tedious: etiquette. As if that hadn’t been ingrained in my brain from growing up in court and being taught how to behave - knowledge that I used to do the exact opposite.

Thankfully, we have an hour to eat before the next lecture. I sit with my back against a tree, eating from a giant plate of cheese, nuts and fruits that a servant brought for me. I share the meal with Valerian and Locke, who were about as interested in the previous lecture as I was. Nicasia is eating with some of the other female students today. Under the biggest tree in the yard, on a colorful wool blanket, the human twins eat together.

"So, Locke. You still haven't told us which one you're fucking."

A few weeks ago, Locke had told us about his plans to seduce the twins - his exact wording. He detailed his plan to throw rocks at their window and serenade them, but he never mentioned which one he was seeing. Valerian thinks he's trying to hide it from us, but I can tell the twins apart. I've seen Locke eyeing both of them.

"Wouldn't you like to know," Locke told him in his smuggest tone.

I would. I don't know why, but I would. Something about seeing Locke with Jude, touching her casually, gets in my head. I know he’ll only use her and dump her - and I don’t know why I even care. I turn my gaze towards the girls. Jude is gesticulating as she tells something to Taryn, who listens to her intently. My eyes follow her hand as she spreads a thick red jam on a piece of bread and brings it to her mouth. Some jam sticks to her cheek and I watch as Taryn leans forward and wipes it away.

"Cardan?"

I quickly turn my head back to my friends and try to look as bored as possible. "What?"

I see Locke's cunning eyes narrow as he looks at me. He saw me staring at them. Fuck.

"Fuck, Marry, Kill. The Duarte sisters." Valerian replies.

Only my friends could play such a game when the subjects of said game are sitting a few meters away. It is a traditionally human game, but the concept of it is so typically fae that it caught on very quickly in Faerie. I consider it for a moment, trying not to think too hard about it.

"Taryn looks like she would be a good obedient housewife."

That leaves the other two. I bring a piece of golden fruit to my mouth.

"I bet Vivi is a lot of fun. Not as much of a prude as the others."

"Their bodies are so vulgar," Valerian says with disgust, nodding towards Taryn and Jude, “Vivienne is the only good option.”

“So I guess you’d kill Jude,” Locke concludes, raising an eyebrow.

I shrug. I would never actually do it, but if she was gone… Perhaps I would stop thinking about her all the time.

“I bet she would love to know. Right, Locke?” Valerian grins as he gets up.

Oh no, he will not use me to scare her.

“You were not an option, Valerian, but nothing stops me from killing you if you tell her.”

“You’re such a killjoy, Your Highness,” Valerian spits as he rolls his eyes.

As Valerian leaves towards where Nicasia was eating, Locke leans in towards me, his grin wicked.

“We both know who you’d rather fuck.”

I give him my best imitation of his grin. “I get plenty already, I have no need for inexperienced humans.”

He snickers. I have had enough, of him, of this day, of being sober.

“Tell the professor I was needed at the palace.”

I get up and leave the courtyard without a look back. Nobody stops me as I walk to Hollow Hall, probably sensing my temper getting worse by every second I spend sober. I need a drink, some hallucinogen - anything to make me feel numb and stop thinking so much.

I grab a bottle from the kitchen as I walk to my room and lock the door behind me. Not even bothering with a glass, I down half of the wine in one go.

Why do I keep thinking about her? She’s just a mortal. Destined to rot in the soil and feed the worms. There are dozens of mortals working in this very house, and I never had any interest to take any of them to bed.

I draw myself a bath in the coldest water possible. I hiss as I enter, but even after spending a few minutes in, it does not remove the images from my mind. Her full lips. The jam on her cheek and how much I want to lick it clean. That sharp tongue sucking jam off her finger. I lean back in the bath and sigh. I’m a degenerate. I grab my cock and make quick work of it. I’m still disgusted with myself after I come.

I drink the rest of the bottle and throw it against a wall. It shatters.

#tfota #the folk of the air #the cruel prince #cardan greenbriar #cardan #jude duarte #jurdan #judecardan #holly black #fanfic #smut #angst

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painted-piggy-ships-archive · 3 years

Text

A Proposal for The Ages (pt.2)- or Not Getting Married

Charles Lee Ray x Poe

Word Count: 1137

Tag List: @heavenshipped @fangedwife @ghostlyvenus @the-schizotypal-cryptid

Summary: The day after Charles’ proposal was going so swimmingly... it just had to end in tragedy. But maybe, there is life, there is love, after death, after all.

Warnings: Cop mention, Charles gets shot/usage of guns, Charles “dies” but not really (you know what I mean), alcohol and smoking mentions because Poe does not know what healthy coping mechanisms are- , conspiracy to kill a child, obviously, Poe murders a cab driver by slitting his throat. Basically a re-telling of what happens in the first half of Child’s Play, but with Poe’s p.o.v. as told by a narrator.

Other: Title inspired by “(Not) Getting Married” from Sondheim’s Company

Like my writing? Consider Reblogging 🔁 or leaving a nice Comment 💬! Thank you!

The day had started off normal. So, so normal. Charles had gone off to meet up with Eddie and discuss the plans they had for the night. Poe, still glowing from Charles’ proposal, spent the day running errands and fantasizing about the perfect gothic wedding. It was a bright, autumn day, that felt like hope and happiness… but by the time the sun had set, all of that optimism was thrown out a window.

Eddie had bailed on him, that cheap rat bastard! And now Charles was caught in an on-foot chase, a determined cop not far behind him. He ducked around alleyways, mentally cursing to himself. Oh, if he survived this, Eddie was fucking toast. His heart stopped for a moment as he considered his mortality. No, he had to survive this. He had a wonderful fiancé and a beautiful girlfriend waiting on him.

Soon he was chased into a toy shop, occasionally blindly shooting back at his pursuer. He forced his entry and hid among children’s playthings, completely outside of his “natural habitat.” The cop entered… next thing he knew, he was shot. Wounded badly under his ribs. Desperately, Charles crawled along the floor, bumping into a display of Good Guy dolls. He remembered the amulet he had on him, The Heart of Damballa… he remembered a spell.

While he found magic very interesting, very rarely had he used it for situations like this… with no other choice, he removed a doll from it’s box and held on tight as he recited the incantation. Storm clouds formed above the shop as he muttered.

“Give me the power, I beg of you!” He howled. A large flash of lightning struck the store, powerful enough to destroy the entire building. And then there was darkness.

~~~

When Charles did not return home, Poe had ventured over to Tiffany’s trailer, where the two watched the news anxiously.

“We interrupt this regularly scheduled programming to bring you breaking news. The Lake Shore Strangler, or Charles Lee Ray as he has been identified as of late, has been killed. Shot twice by police, and in a freak turn of events, blown up in a toy store by a bolt of lightning.”

You could hear a pin drop in the trailer, even as the TV droned on with information. Tiffany and Poe clung to each other for dear life, the former of the two immediately beginning to sob in shock. Tiffany turned off the television as the two huddled together, trying to pull themselves together enough to even begin to process their great loss.

“It must be a mistake…” Poe cried heavily, denying what they had seen.

“Oh, Chucky!” Tiffany spoke weakly, handing a tissue box to her guest. The two could only make out half sentences of their grief, eventually curling up together on Tiffany’s bed and simply trying to rest after downing a couple glasses of wine.

“You know… he was going to propose to me. I’m sure of it.” Tiffany lamented. Poe froze in her arms, but did not speak. “He left the most beautiful, biggest diamond I’d ever seen on the counter the other night. I think it must’ve been from one of the bodies… and now…”

Silent tears destroyed her make-up. Poe’s emotions became fried.

“I’ve got to go.” They told Tiffany firmly, their voice low with anguish as they sat up from her bed.

“What? No, I…”

“You can’t be alone, and I can’t be around anyone right now.” With that, Poe slid off the bed and stalked out of the trailer, catching a cab home. The driver, of course, just had to mention what he’d heard on the radio, prompting Poe to devise his demise. They invited him inside once they were brought home, and killed him in the kitchen, slitting his throat over the sink to minimize clean up. After that, they drank some more wine and laid down on the couch.

Charles was dead. Tiffany mistakenly assumed she was to be wed. And Poe was a widowex before they had ever walked down an aisle. It all made their head spin. Reflecting on the day’s warmth, the cheerfulness seemed foreboding, sickening, now. It had been a warning. A day too good would end with a night of hurt.

~~~

About three or four days later, Poe, who now drowned themself in liquor, smoked themself dry, and avoided all contact with the outside world, finally got a call on their landline that they actually picked up.

“What?” They snarled into the receiver, before being immediately shocked by the voice on the other end.

“Jesus, Poe, is this the right number?? You sound like Hell.”

They nearly dropped the phone, then gripped it tighter.

“Is this some kind of sick joke? Who is this?” They asked, voice shaking. It sounded like… Charles. But he’s dead, he’s dead, he’s dead.

“Poe, calm down. It’s me, really me, Charles, but I think you’ll be calling me Chucky from now on if I can’t get a new body in time…”

“Body? What the hell- You’re DEAD!”

“That’s what they think. Listen very closely to me. When I was shot, I remembered a spell that would temporarily transfer me to anything with a humanoid body shape. You with me? I died in a toy shop. My soul or whatever… I’m in a fucking doll, one of those Good Guys whose advertisements are everywhere nowadays. I went to my guy, I don’t know if you knew John or not, anyway, and. He fucking told me that I’ll be stuck in this body if I can’t use the spell again in time. Now, you’d think it’d be easy to find some poor sucker to transfer my soul back into, but no! I have to use the body of the first person I told I was in a doll. You’ll never guess who that is, babe.”

“A kid?” Poe asked instantly. Charles’ voice in their ear, though jarring at first, now soothed them into an almost normal state.

“Bingo. Obviously I don’t want to be the little shit… I miss you. But it’s my only shot at being human again. If you don’t hear my voice again… I love you. So goddamn much. And I’m sorry we might not ever make it to the altar. I’ll call you again if I ever get the chance.”

Poe bit back a sob.

“Fuck…” their voice broke as they cradled the phone closer, “I love you, too… good luck. Don’t apologize about the wedding, its not your fault you got shot.”

“Yeah, it’s fucking Eddie Caputo’s! Luckily I got him… shit, I gotta go. I love you more than my vocabulary allows.”

Click. Poe set the phone back in its cradle, then crumpled to their knees beside it, burying their swollen face in their hands.

“Fuck!”

#💒Dollfriends💒#clownie writes #self shipping #self shipping community #self insert

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dreaminpeaches · 3 years

Text

(Welcome to the daydream drawing board, a tag where I share some my newest ideas not all of these ideas will be thought out--mostly just quick points-- but it's just nice to have them some where...oof)

TW: angst, mention of domestic abuse, child abuse, alcohol mentioned, father mentioned, bullying and guilt...

(Be sure you're mentally ready, you can come back later or take breaks while reading, it's kind of long...oof)

The most recent concept I dreamed up is about a couple consisting of a reformed/"retired" highschool bully/jock who falls for the new nerdy woman in town, this paracosm is mildly inspired by A Silent Voice, Bojack Horseman and Strange things (but only like a little bit)

Beau

He was the high school quarterback and star player

He was super popular and everyone wanted to be around him

His fave after school activities where smoking under the blenchers (after practice), going out to parties, making out with hotest girls in school (usually the new girls), bullying the weaker "outcast" kids, flirting with older women into getting him and his friends alcohol, and other dumb jock stuff

Beau always made fun of the weird nerdy kids; giving them swirlies, stuffing them in lockers, hiding their belongs (glasses, inhalers, backpacks, calculators, handle gaming devices etc), and throwing a few knuckle sandwiches at them on his worst days.

Beau bullied other because he had a rough home life, his father was abusive and usually came home angry and would take out his anger on the family (, mostly Beau's mom)

Beau's parents had him at young age, Beau's dad had big dreams at becoming a famous author but had a hard time getting his books picked up and blamed his career failures on Beau

Beau would try to protect his family from his dad's outburst but the only person he could protect successful was his little brother, Devin.

When Beau would try to protect his mother he would get brutally beaten by his dad in process, sometimes he would get hit so bad that he blacked out, because of this Beau's mom would tell him go to the treehouse and take his little brother with him in hopes they wouldn't hear their parents fight

In the treehouse, Beau would read books to Devin to distract him from what was happening, one of Devin's favorite books was "Is there a horse in your house?" A simple book about looking for a horse in a house, Devin would always find this book funny and hearing his little brother's laugh made Beau feel better, so Beau wouldn't mind having to read it over and over again. (This was back when Beau was in early middle school and Dev was in kindergarten)

Beau and Dev knew it was "safe" to come out, when their mother said dinner was ready, but there would be some days where they end up sleeping in the treehouse and waking up to their mom telling them breakfast was ready and they had to eat quietly while their dad slept

It was in middle school, Beau started to bully other kids, he liked the power and feeling of being able to fight someone and win, to be the one to be feared instead of being afaird, it was addicting

Football became a better way to cope with his feeling but he still bullied none the less.

Football was the only time where his dad wasn't as much of jerk, it was almost like Beau's dad was felt like an actual father when watching football, and being on the football team was an achievement his dad was actually proud of beau for, so thanksgiving and super bowl season was a somewhat peaceful time

Around sophomore year his mother finally got away from her abusive husband, soon after Beau's mom fell in love with a nice man, who actually cared about her and they got married and had a daughter together who became Beau's little sister, Carrie whom he loves dearly..

Beau is super over protective of his family (protecting both his siblings from other bullies, ironically), to the point where even when his mom found a new lover, Beau still keep his guard up and because of this his step dad is kind of intimidated by him

Beau was able to bond with his step dad over cars and mechanics, a topic Beau was obsessed about since middle school because he would dream of building a car that would be able to drive him and his family far away from his father as possible without stopping

Beau's step dad owns a gas station/mechanics shop, Beau would help out in the shop on weekends when he was free and occasionally steal beer for parties.

Despite his bully/typical jock persona Beau is actually quite patient especially when it comes to younger kids

Due how stressful her home life was, Beau would take it upon himself to look after his little brother and do chores around the house when his mom was unable to, he would even cook dinner and breakfast (a skill he learned to do at an earlier age compared to his peers), his dad often called him a "Sissy" for doing so..

Beau never asked for allowance, since his family was kind of tight on money he felt bad for asking, so he just took lunch money and allowance from the kids he bullied. Money would go to grocery money, money to buy gifts for his mother/brother, money to help with rent , or money just to buy the new NFL game or some alcohol or cigarettes.

In his high school days , sometimes when Beau didn't want to deal with his dad/home life he would crash at friends place or stay over after a party but he would call up to make sure his little brother/mother/sister were okay

Beau started smoking on a dare, when he realized it kind help ease the mental pain, he started doing it for real (same with drinking)

Even Beau liked to drink, he never drove drunk or let his friends drive drunk, if was a party mostly consisting of his friends he would try his best to be the sober one to drive everyone home

Beau was set to be a big football star once he graduated highschool he even got into an ivy league school, but there was something stopping him from focusing fully on his studies, (that and the fact he kind of cheated since he let the nerds he bullied do most of his homework since he didn't have time or just do lazy to actually do it himself in highschool), so he ended up flunking out

During the time he dropped out his step dad needed an extra hand at the shop, so he thought might as well go back home

At first Beau thought his family would be disappointed in him but they couldn't be more happy that he was back home especially his siblings

It was when he returned to his hometown that he finally realized what was feeling was haunting him this whole time it was the feeling of guilt he had gotten from being a bully for so long. Since most of his jock friends were busy with their college career, it left him with little to no friends in his hometown, Everytime he saw a familiar face around town it was usually one of his former victims, seeing them would give him a weird sick oozey feeling in his stomach, and it didn't help that his step dad ran popular mechanic shop that was frequented by the locals, the feeling of guilt got so bad at times, he would stay home from work but wouldn't really tell his parents why out of fear that they would hate him.

So, when Beau meets the new woman in town, Bonnie who works at the comic book shop/arcade/maid cafe, who becomes the only person Beau can talk to in town besides his family, and he starts to fall for her. He feels conflicted because this would be someone he would totally bully in high school, but shes really so nice and sweet to him, does he really deserve girl that nice, what happens if she finds out about his past, will Bonnie still love him.

Beau makes it his mission to try and make amends with the people he has bullied over the years, at first he does this on his own (with a little help for Dev whose middle school age now), without Bonnie knowing but one of the nerds used to bully kind of sorta also gets a crush on Bonnie and feels like she's too good for Beau, and tries to expose him for the "fiend" he is. This leads to Beau having mental break down when he knows Bonnie knows about his past, but she comforts him and accepts him for who he is, and helps him try to make amends with his past victims...

Some people accept Beau's apology right away (understanding his background), others take a while, some don't forgive Beau at all, which he respectfully understands, he was kind of jerk

Oof, this is prolly gonna be the most heavy paracosm I have if I continue it, but if I do post about it's mostly gonna be fluffy light stuff--nerd/jock dynamic interactions, along with toll/smoll dynamic interactions. OH by the way this paracosm is set in the 80/90s maybe early 2000s because they don't use smartphones in this paracosm it's mostly payphones, landlines, VHS tapes, DVDs and tape records (but I will use modern music if and when I make a playlist, so it might be a mixed timeline) also I don't have a name for this paracosm might edit one in later...

#immersive daydreaming #paraportal #paracosm #daydream drawing board #tw: alchohol mention #tw: abuse #tw: heavy angst #tw: heavy topics #para: beau

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dalekofchaos · 3 years

Note

I know you don't like Chloe Price anymore. But since you like to change things about your favorite things like Star Wars, DC, Marvel and Horror, how would you change how DONTNOD/Deck Nine handled Chloe?

A lot. I will start with BTS and then LIS. But to be fair, I’ve grown to like Chloe again. My big problem is how she treats Max, the fact that we cannot choose who Max focuses on(again I’d choose Warren and Kate if I could) and well the hateful and toxic Pricefield fans ruined Chloe for me. But here’s how I would change Chloe if I could

BTS

First of all, hire someone who actually understands how teenagers talk(especially teenage girls) and make the dialogue less cringey(this goes for both games)

Give Chloe more of a character arc. I don’t feel that Deck Nine did Chloe justice. The writers attempt to evoke empathy with Chloe feeling grief which is done via exactly one emotion- which is a very childish understanding of how loss and coping works. She had no character arc, considering she was the exact same character that we already knew in LiS Episode 1 (A bitter disaffected teenage youth with no regard for authority) so we didn’t get to see Chloe evolve into the character we loved in the first game. She just already was it. The gameplay undid the narrative we were given about Chloe being a loner in that you can talk to and make friends with pretty much anybody and they all acted like they liked and were genuinely happy to see Chloe. Very rarely were there interactions with Blackwell students that ended with Chloe’s presence not being welcomed, only Wells, Victoria and Nathan showed contempt for Chloe(even with Nathan that goes away when he claps for her at the play) The reason this is done is because the game wouldn’t be fun if Chloe actually was a loner. The core mechanic of Life is Strange is being able to talk to people and experiment with your surroundings. A game where nobody wanted to talk to Chloe works against the core mechanic. But in making her the main character it undoes the weight of the narrative of Chloe being alone until Rachel/Max. I just strongly feel that Deck Nine did not understand Chloe as a character and did not do her justice. We should’ve gotten Chloe at her lowest, evolving from Max’s best friend to the character we know in the first game and Rachel helping lift Chloe through the worse point of her life. Chloe and Rachel together having fun rocking out and Chloe starting to live again and show that Chloe Price loves Rachel Amber and Rachel loves Chloe. Chloe losing Rachel and showing how Chloe has to deal with Rachel missing, how she became in debt to Frank and how she got involved with Nathan and how Chloe ends up in the bathroom.

The game should have 5 episodes. The first 2 episodes focus on Chloe and Rachel’s first year together. Episode 3 focuses on 2011. 4 focuses on 2012 and the final episode focuses on 2013 and Chloe’s breakdown over Rachel’s disappearance. A bonus episode “Firewalk with me” to show us Rachel’s final days and the choices that led her to the Dark Room. Needless to say, those fans who were against LIS 2 would have something to look forward to cause Deck Nine would take their time with BTS in this scenario.

Make it very clear that David is abusive. The problem with their dynamic in BTS is that they go out of their way to make Chloe irrational for not giving David a chance. In BTS Chloe says she hates David because he calls her “girly” and the game practically implies Chloe is at fault for the conflict between Chloe and David for not accepting David’s photo...what kind of abuse apologetic bullshit is that? Okay so start off by saying in her journal that “Joyce really remarried the first asshole she saw in Two Whales.” because by the time of 2010 in the canon of the first game, they are already married. Have it implied in her entry about David that it’s like “living Full Metal Jacket” that alone implies emotional and mental abuse if you’ve seen the Bootcamp scenes. Chloe in the entry would continue to say, life’s been a living hell ever since David entered the picture and Joyce takes his side every time. We would get the impression that David does not understand nor does he care about Chloe's depression and grief for losing William and Max moving away. When fighting with Joyce about David, say “he keeps hitting me and you keep defending him, how do you expect me to get over dad by letting some abusive asshole take his place?” Joyce would respond with “you keep pushing him, what did you think was gonna happen” And worse, David just started the Security Officer job at Blackwell. Needless to say Chloe is not taking any of this well. So when David and Chloe go to Blackhell, he’s basically ordering her around, talking down to her. Telling her “You’ve had two years free of having a father figure in your life. I am your father now. I’ve been showing you what a stable home is like, yet you keep pushing me.” Chloe back talks him and it results in David smacking her. David would then say “Look what you made me do.” Later in the game, Chloe would get herself expelled just to get away from David and David would berate her and call her a loser. Near the end of Episode 3 or 4, Rachel would have dinner with Chloe, Joyce and David. Rachel would see the way David treats Chloe and stands up for her girlfriend. Threatens to call the cops on David if he ever hurts her girlfriend ever again. This of course would spark down David’s obsession with surveillance and his investigation into stalking Rachel, all because he wanted to save his pathetic fucking ass.

Actually give Chloe a transformation. The problem with BTS, is that Chloe is the same character from the first game. We don’t get to see how the innocent and happy Chloe becomes the Chloe from the first game. She’s just like this immediately. We should get a Batman Returns Catwoman like transformation for Chloe. Chloe’s had it with David, Joyce, Blackhell and now Rachel for leaving. So Chloe would basically be destroying her room and tossing everything away that belonged to the old Chloe.

Make the game about Rachel helping Chloe down the worst moment of her life. Chloe’s “Rachel was my angel” comment showed a lot to how Chloe loved Rachel and how much she meant to her. Chloe tells Max that Rachel entered her life when was at her absolute lowest and that it was she who helped her deal with the grief of having lost her father but the entire game is centered around Chloe being the one who is supporting Rachel as she deals with a serious family drama of her own. What Before The Storm should have been. Rachel helping lift Chloe through the worse point of her life. If Rachel had stopped Chloe from committing suicide… as was the commonly believed interpretation to what happened between Chloe and Rachel up until BtS, then Chloe’s ”“she was my angel” would have meant it was truly special and real. But instead they bump into each other at an illegal concert and Rachel distracted some thug who works for Damon and we spend the game finding out who Sera is in a reveal we all saw it coming and only to have Rachel taken out of the third episode where Rachel never talks to her and makes the whole thing feel pointless. What the game should have been was Chloe and Rachel together having fun rocking out, becoming girlfriends and Chloe starting to live again and show that Chloe Price loves Rachel Amber and Rachel loves Chloe.

Do Chloe’s past with Victoria better. A minor change, but they kind of make Chloe and Rachel look like jerks in the Victoria drugging in part 2. If you let Rachel drop out the play, you drug Victoria or back talk her out of doing the play that she was given. Also it lines up with the first game better this way. In LIS, if you choose to take the picture with Victoria in paint, when seeing said picture, Chloe will say “Boo-Yah skank! Karma’s a bitch!” So I guess we can have Victoria bullying Chloe with her mean girl bullshit, Chloe fights back, Victoria gets scared, so Victoria helps get Chloe expelled by reporting her graffiti(as is the reason she was expelled from Blackwell)

When Rachel goes missing, we spend the final episode looking for her. It’s a very sad and tragic episode. We all know there is no hope in finding Rachel, but we still try anyway, in some hope that Rachel is still out there. So Chloe leaves up the posters, is in debt to Frank and tries to steal money from Nathan. Which leads Chloe to that faithful day in the bathroom.

LIS

Chloe does not park in the handicapped space(I don’t even have to tell you why this was a bad idea to begin with)

Chloe stops guilt tripping Max after the first truck ride

If you chose not to come out of the closet or not take the blame, after lashing out at Max, Chloe will apologize for lashing out at us. Same for if we chose not to fire the gun.

Does not get pissy if we take Kate’s call, in fact prior to Chloe’s test, Max would explain the situation with Kate and Chloe would be understanding as she understands being depressed herself and would even help Max out in finding evidence to implicate Nathan and David.

It’s not the handicapped fund, it’s the “Prescott Donation”(aka Sean’s bribery money) this way we can feel less guilty about not stealing from the handicapped fund and Chloe doesn’t look like an ableist

If Chloe does snap after finding about Rachel and says the same things she did about Kate as she did in canon. Max can then lose her shit and stand up to Chloe. Basically says the way she treats her is not okay and if she wants to help her find Rachel and seek justice for Kate, then things are gonna have to change or they are finished. Then Max leaves Chloe behind with Chloe realizing that she needs to change. Ideally something like Bojack Horseman “You can't keep doing this! You can't keep doing shitty things and then feel bad about yourself as if that makes it okay! You need to be better! Chloe, stop. It's not alcohol, drugs, or your parents, David, Rachel or all the bad things that happened to you before. It's you. It's you. I want to find Rachel and get justice for Kate, but if this is how you’re gonna keep treating me...Fuck, man... What else is there to say?“ I know LIS came out way before BJHM or that particular episode, but it’s the perfect example of how Max could’ve stood up to Chloe’s toxic behavior

After the returning from her time jump, Max returns to her dorm and goes to Chloe. Chloe properly apologizes for how she’s been acting since they got back together and agree to put everything in the past so they can work together to find Rachel and give Kate justice

Max is given the option to enter the Everyday Hero’s Contest. If you saved Kate, Max with Kate’s permission, Kate would let Max take a photo of her in the hospital. And Max enters her photo at the last minute when she returns to Blackwell. If you did not save Kate, then Chloe would give up the Butterfly photo so Max can enter the photo. Either way Max will win the contest. Max wins the Everyday Hero Contest. Max gives an inspiring speech about how everyone can be a hero and that Kate has always inspired her, how much she loves Kate and that she hopes that Kate knows that she is loved by everyone in Blackwell and everyone, especially Chloe, Warren, Victoria would cheer Max on. This would also give Jefferson the means and opportunity to drug Max without killing Chloe at the Junkyard. Chloe doesn’t die because it’s a public place and Jefferson has Max where he wants her. It honestly works better than Jefferson magically appearing at the Junkyard with no explanation(and it never being brought up).

What could happen in Episode 5 is basically the same thing, only in an act of desperation, Chloe goes to David to help save Max. They put their differences aside to save the person Chloe loves the most and David gets to stop Jefferson. Chloe could not be there to save Rachel, but she can be there for Max. Chloe saves Max and Jefferson goes to jail. Together Max and Chloe goes directly into the eye of the storm to save everyone at the diner. However instead of using Warren’s photo to save Chloe, Max uses it to warn David about Jefferson and to reach the Lighthouse. The same choice is given to us and instead of a copout ending, Max actually uses the photo to save Chloe and the town. Warns David and David barges in and catches Nathan redhanded with the gun and uncovers the truth of Rachel, Kate and Jefferson. Max warns the town of the storm. Everyone listens. After Jefferson’s arrest, the police clears the bunker of Jefferson’s predatory display and the town hides in the bunker. The town is rebuilt. A town can be rebuilt, but you can’t build another Chloe. Jefferson and Sean are rotting in prison and Nathan is getting the help he desperately needed. Chloe finally moves on from her hatred of David and the Price family gets to start over. A montage of Max and Chloe together either romantic or platonic and if you chose to romance Warren, a little clip of Going Ape, if just friends, then we see Warren, Kate, Max and Chloe Going Ape! It ends on Rachel’s funeral and the final scene shows the Doe spirit as both Max and Chloe smile as Rachel’s spirit finally rests.

Chloe’s arc is lashing out at a cruel world, learning to let the right people in, healing and letting go of her hate and starting over. It just doesn’t work if she has to die to actually learn this and also that character arc goes out the window of you choose the save Chloe ending (and makes max look like an awful person for killing all her friends and Joyce). Chloe gets to live, she’s at peace knowing that Rachel was brought to justice, she’s willing to start over with David, she has her best friend and mother in her life. If you chose the Pricefield route, then Chloe is at peace with Rachel passing on and she starts anew with Max. If not, then Chloe still has her best friend and knows she will always be there and she will always be there for Max in return.

Also, I like the idea of Max and Chloe road tripping together as was demonstrated in LIS 2, but I also like the idea of Warren, Victoria and Kate joining them as well and they live in their own commune. Maybe Max, Warren and Chloe are in a poly relationship, while Kate and Victoria are together!!!

#Life Is Strange #Chloe Price #Amberprice #Pricefield #Anonymous #Asks

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leastdatablebracket · 10 months

Text

ROUND 1.5, MATCH 14

Joseph Christiansen

So many reasons. He's already married, he's a jerk to his wife, he's already slept with at least one of the other romance options. That romance option goes to you before a date with Jospeh and damn near begs you not to be stupid and go with him. The worst part? You put up with all this and he leaves you to "work things out with his wife". She deserves so much better than him! One of the writers even said he's a sociopath.

Married and a youth minister.

Cheater, cringe man, father of creepy children, possibly evil cultist, left a guy feeling used which said guy also became friends with Joseph's wife who appears to be an alcoholic likely as a coping mechanism since she's married to Joseph

He cheats on his wife, has done so before, lies to you by claiming that he's going to leave his wife when he clearly never intends to (and, in one ending, will even cheerfully suggest that you two continue having an affair in an extremely sleazy way), and judging by the fact that the other guy we know he cheated on his wife with, Robert, hates Joseph and is now very close friends with his wife, it seems clear to me that this whole "purposefully mislead someone into sleeping with you and then later drop the bomb that it was an affair" thing is repeat behavior with him. Also, I just find much of his behavior to be very manipulative and controlling; there are many situations where it seems to me that he's actively trying to paint others in a negative light while still coming off as saintly himself, such as an early scene where he subtly implies his wife is a shitty mom because she *checks notes* let their toddler out of her sight... during a neighborhood barbecue in a fenced-in yard surrounded by trusted adults and other kids. Also notice how in this scene he pushes *her* to go look for their son, rather than just looking himself, all while keeping up his "long-suffering husband" act. (and in other scenes can be found letting his other young children wander off into the woods with sharp implements and visibly not caring, but whatever). He does this with Robert, too -- the other guy he had an affair with. Almost everything he says about or to Robert is a subtle jab about his personality or his alcoholism. Classy, Joseph. Meanwhile, the fact that you can't actually end up with him in the end (because he was never going to leave his wife for you) started some of the most volatile discourse in the fandom and had people calling the devs homophobic and claiming they were spreading a message about "gay men needing to stay in loveless abusive marriages to women" (just ignore the fact that there are several other divorced gay dads in this game who all have great relationships with their kids and are not demonized in the slightest). HOWEVER, if you see people claiming he's a cultist or demon or something, that's untrue and was just going to be a non-canon spooky alternate ending that ended up getting cut. So I empathize with him a little bit for getting literally demonized by some fans for that cut alt ending. But he loses all those points by cheating on his wife multiple times and showing clear intent to continue doing so.

He's still married when you start dating him. He's also got like 5 kids that are some "children of the corn" kinda shit, and all their names have "Christ" in them

You don't even get to date him he's still married to his wife who he doesn't get along with. Tragic really

Jakob

I like the whole "kind of an ass, but ultimately cares about people" character trope, so I latched onto Jakob early in my first playthrough and decided to marry him. Only problem? He gets no character development, ever, and constantly crosses the line from being kind of an ass to being genuinely horrid, at least to people who aren't Corrin. Then I actually married him and found out he doesn't even get over himself after that, he stays exactly the same and turns into a really bad father as well. Sorry, but no. That killed any interest I had in the character.

#round 1

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rosethornewrites · 3 years

Text

Fic: the thread may stretch or tangle but it will never break, ch. 13

Additional Tags: Pre-Slash, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Secrets, Crying, Masks, Soulmates, Truth, Self-Esteem Issues, Regret, It was supposed to be a one-shot, Fix-It, Eventual Relationships, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, wwx needs a hug, Nightmares, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Filial Piety, Handfasting, Phobias, Sleeping Together, Fear, Panic Attacks, Love Confessions, Getting Together, First Kiss, Kissing, Boys Kissing, Family, and they were married, Bathing/Washing, Hair Braiding, Hair Brushing, Feels, Sex Education, Implied Sexual Content, First Time, Aftercare, Morning After, Afterglow, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Implied/Referenced Torture, Scars, Eventual Happy Ending, Hand Jobs

Summary: Wei Wuxian has a difficult start to the day, Lan Wangji learns something he didn't expect, and Wen Qing oversees a unique medical experiment.

Notes: Intended to get further in this, but was at a good stopping point and already over 3K words. We don’t know a whole lot about Wei Wuxian’s time with the Wen in Burial Mounds. While it’s unlikely he dealt with near-possession, the shift of Lan Wangji staying changed a lot of things. They could afford more crops, so he had to clear the resentment from more land. That combined with the emotional exhaustion from talking to Lan Xichen left him open. Unintended consequences.

AO3 link

Chapters: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12

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Wei Ying, when Lan Wangji wakes him for breakfast in the morning, is alarmingly withdrawn. His eyes are hazy, unfocused. He barely reacts when Lan Wangji places his bowl of breakfast in his hands, and ultimately he feeds him. It is a slow process, Wei Ying sometimes needing prompting.

If not for his reluctance to leave his husband alone in such a state, he would go looking for Wen Qing. Instead he focuses on feeding him and having him drink the medicine Wen Ning brought with breakfast.

By the time she arrives, Wei Ying has slipped back to sleep.

“It’s the pain, and probably one of his bad days on top of it,” she tells him when he asks.

Wei Ying, he learns, often sequesters himself from the others, sometimes not leaving the cave for several days. He spends that time feverishly inventing cultivation tools.

“It’s a distraction,” she says, sounding tired. “Whatever is going on in his mind, he’s trying to distract himself from it however he can—he’d probably numb himself with alcohol if we had it.”

Nightmares, Lan Wangji is certain, and the trauma of his experiences, perhaps his own lack of self-worth driving a need to be useful through his inventions.

If Wei Ying is suffering today, the pain prevents him from using his normal coping mechanisms. And Lan Wangji would rather he not use drinking as one—and he suspects Wen Qing feels similarly, as jifu has brewed more fruit wine.

Since they’re waiting for Wen Ning to return with the bathtub so the hot water can ease Wei Ying’s pain a bit before they try their musical acupuncture experiment, Wen Qing leads him to a nearby stone “table” covered in papers. They’re haphazard, scrawled half-ideas interrupted by new ones, occasional doodles, a true mess. There’s no organization even within one page, only a sort of jumble of thoughts in smeared ink.

Lan Wangji hates the idea that his husband’s mental state could mirror those pages on his bad days.

“He hasn’t had one of his bad days since you came,” she says, her tone approving. “You’re good for him. Yesterday was just… a lot.”

He can only nod in response; it had been difficult for him, as well, but Wei Ying had bared a secret he had not willingly told anyone, had made himself vulnerable—and at Lan Wangji’s request. Even had he not suffered the near-possession, today may have been a bad day for him regardless.

“I’ll put together a sachet for the bath, something to relax his muscles and ease the pain,” Wen Qing says. “Let him sleep until A-Ning gets back.”

He returns to Wei Ying’s side when she leaves. He is pale and still as he sleeps, his lips parted slightly as he breathes, his breath easy and calm. The dark circles under his eyes are still prominent, and Lan Wangji hopes it is a healing sleep.

Lan Wangji spends a shichen meditating beside Wei Ying while keeping attuned to him in case his sleep is disturbed. Wen Ning returns, carrying a large bathtub already filled as though it weighs nothing, and carefully sets it down without sloshing the water over.

“I cannot use t-talismans anymore,” the young man says, almost in apology. “Jiejie put a sachet in already. She said t-to only let him soak for a quarter shichen, then have him drink water.”

“Thank you, Wen Ning.”

He rises and bows, and Wen Ning makes a disgruntled sound.

“Y-you shouldn’t bow t-to me, Lan-er-gongzi!”

Lan Wangji shakes his head.

“You are helping my husband,” he says.

“I would help him anyway.”

“All the more reason to show you courtesy.”

Wen Ning seems to recognize Lan Wangji will not budge on this issue, and finally just nods.

“Jiejie said she would check on him in half a shichen, and to t-try the acupuncture idea.”

Lan Wangji has little choice but to accept Wen Ning’s bow before he leaves; protesting it would be hypocritical.

After affixing a warming talisman to the tub, he turns his focus back to Wei Ying. He tries to wake him pleasantly, with soft murmurs and touches, and after a few minutes rouses him enough to explain about the tub.

Wei Ying is barely able to help when Lan Wangji undresses him, only just awake. He frowns to find bruises on his skin that hadn’t been there the night before. He hoped Wen Qing would know what had caused them.

He knows his robes will just get wet, so he strips himself to his zhong yi trousers.

He doesn’t bother trying to get Wei Ying to walk once he is undressed, just scoops him into his arms and carries him to the tub. Wei Ying lets out a soft moan as Lan Wangji lowers him into the hot water and settles him, careful to keep his braided hair out of the water. Wei Ying grabs his arm before he can completely withdraw from the water.

“Stay?”

Lan Wangji can deny him nothing, so nods, settling beside the tub and holding Wei Ying’s hand under the water. The rising steam has an earthy mint aroma, and he hopes the bath and Wen Qing’s sachet of herbs are helping ease his pain.

“You’re always here for me,” Wei Ying murmurs, his voice distant, sleepy.

“I have not been before.”

He regrets that, seeing the pain his husband, his zhiji, has endured. He thinks perhaps it will always be a regret, having waited too long to support him.

Wei Ying frowns at him, his eyes hazy. He draws Lan Wangji’s hand to his chest over his healed brand scar, over his heart.

“You have. Here.”

“Wei Ying,” he breathes, overcome by the gesture.

“Like that. I heard you, the first time. When I was here.”

Lan Wangji frowns, confused. Wei Ying’s eyes slide shut and he sighs softly.

“I thought it was the end, when they dropped me here. All that resentful energy howling at me all around, asking if I wanted revenge. I was ready to give up and just… let it end. But I heard you call my name. Your voice. I wanted to try to see you again.”

Wei Ying’s voice is barely audible at the end, and after several breaths Lan Wangji realizes he’s fallen back to sleep. He feels raw, knowing this, knowing Wei Ying tried to survive for him, to return to him, just to see him, expecting to be hated for what he had to do to survive.

He curls closer to the tub and kisses the top of Wei Ying’s head, burying his face in his hair.

“I’m glad you did, Wei Ying,” he whispers. “I’m so glad you did.”

There is moisture in Wei Ying’s hair, and it takes a moment for Lan Wangji to realize it’s from his own tears. He has never doubted Wei Ying loves him, but the depth of his love is overwhelming, that Wei Ying refused to give up in the face of certain death for the chance to see him again. Even the spectre of Lan Wangji had comforted him in his lowest moment.

Lan Wangji simply holds his husband, as much as is possible separated by a wooden tub, and tries not to think. Tries not to wonder what might have happened had he not discovered Wei Ying’s secret, had he walked down the mountain and returned to Gusu as he had intended, had he left Wei Ying to suffer alone. Tries not to be angry with himself for having been so willing to abandon his husband for the sake of rules—what rule is worth more than Wei Ying?

Finally, he estimates it has been quarter shichen and he hooks an arm under Wei Ying’s knees, the other around his back, and lifts him out of the tub.

Wei Ying shivers in his arms, wrinkling his nose and letting out a whine at the chill of the air. Lan Wangji sets him on the embroidered blanket on the bed, wrapping him in it—the material will absorb the water, and he can hang it to dry later. Wei Ying’s features smooth over, and he stirs, murmuring his name.

“I am here, airen. I will not leave you.”

Never again, he promises. Every time he leaves Wei Ying, terrible things happen to him. He will defend him, care for him, and keep him safe.

Wei Ying smiles sleepily at him.

“Did they get a tub for popo, too?” he asks.

Lan Wangji wants to clutch him close, this man who cares so much for others and yet so little for himself, but instead he pets his hair and leans in to kiss him softly.

“I did not ask.”

Wei Ying huffs softly, turning his head into Lan Wangji’s touch.

“Hope they did. Bath was nice.”

He wonders if Wei Ying remembers what he said, his revelation, but he doesn’t address it. It does not need to be addressed. He knows now, and he will not forget.

“Wen Qing added an herb sachet. How is your pain?”

“Tolerable,” Wei Ying murmurs with a soft hum.

Lan Wangji knows that could just as easily mean it is intolerable, but Wei Ying won’t admit it even if that is the case. Regardless, he must be feeling at least slightly better than before the soak—he is more present now.

He remembers he was to have Wei Ying drink water and he pours a cup from a nearby ewer. He lifts Wei Ying into a sitting position and helps him drink, refilling the cup a couple of times until he’s sated.

“We will attempt that musical acupuncture cultivation idea when Wen Qing comes,” he says, easing him back down.

Wei Ying nods, but grimaces.

“Wei Ying?”

“Hate needles,” he murmurs. “That’s all.”

“I will be here with you.”

It is all Lan Wangji can promise, but when Wei Ying smiles softly at him, he hopes perhaps it is enough.

Lan Wangji makes sure Wei Ying is dry within the blanket, then helps him into his zhong yi trousers—reluctantly, after Wei Ying looks at him through long lowered lashes and asks if it’s time for their every day. Had they had the time for it, without the threat of Wen Qing walking in on them, he wouldn’t hesitate.

He does not hesitate to kiss him breathless, to hold him close, and he hopes it is enough for now.

He knows acupuncture will require Wei Ying to be mostly nude, so he only bothers him with the trousers for now, wrapping him back in the blanket and kissing him soundly.

He is just finishing with the belt over his outer robe when Wen Qing enters carrying a basket.

“You look better than this morning,” she tells Wei Ying bluntly, and he laughs softly.

“Your medicine and the herbal bath helped, Qing-jie.”

That elicits a smile from her, and she settles beside him on the bed.

“He has bruises.”

Lan Wangji pulls back the blanket to show her, and is relieved when she only nods.

“His muscles spasmed violently when he was fighting the possession. They’ll heal, but there was damage.”

She turns to Wei Ying.

“You made it worse for yourself, you know.”

Wei Ying looks away, frowning.

“I didn’t know if she would hurt A-Yuan. I couldn’t risk it.”

Wen Qing’s expression softens, but she still huffs at him irritably.

“And you wonder why he adopted you as his dad.”

She pulls a set of acupuncture needles from the basket, and if Wei Ying intended to protest her comment, he thinks better of it, eyeing the needles distrustfully.

“I want to work on your back first,” she tells him. “Since we don’t know the effects, we’ll start slow and be careful. You need to let us know if it hurts, Wei Wuxian.”

He nods, still eying the needles. Lan Wangji helps him turn over, pooling the blanket over his lower body and tucking it around him to give him at least some warmth. He holds Wei Ying’s hand, hoping to offer comfort as Wen Qing inserts her needles.

Wen Qing stays fairly quiet as she works, simply letting them know she’s targeting muscles rather than meridians for the first stage of the experiments, hoping to determine whether a directed distribution of qi will accelerate the healing process.

“I don’t want to try the meridians just yet,” she says eventually. “It may flush out the resentful energy, and I don’t know how that would affect you. It might make you feel better, but...”

Lan Wangji thinks perhaps he understands her recalcitrance; Wei Ying has been cultivating resentful energy for so long, flushing it out could be a shock to his system. And, living in Burial Mounds, surrounded by resentful energy, it could easily just make him more vulnerable.

He wishes he could take Wei Ying from here, take them all from here to a place less tainted by death. Perhaps that can eventually be accomplished, but for now he can do nothing.

“I can’t lose hold of it,” Wei Ying murmurs. “Not and control the seal.”

A chill washes through Lan Wangji at the reminder of the weapon, that terrible dark tool that had won the war for the cultivation world, while making Wei Ying a target for the power-hungry. Lan Wangji knows such a tool must be hard to control—even spiritual tools can harm the user when a wielder cannot keep control.

Wen Qing makes a face.

“I wish you’d destroy that awful thing.”

“Can’t. It’s a deterrent. And the backlash from destroying it would be pretty bad.”

Wei Ying sounds almost grieved, as though he would prefer to destroy it.

“If we could ward against the backlash?” Lan Wangji asks.

“It’s the only thing keeping us from being massacred at the moment,” Wei Ying says bitterly. “Otherwise I’d be all for it. The seal recognizes no master, and it’s too dangerous to exist.”

Lan Wangji frowns at the information, concerned. He wonders how much energy Wei Ying has been using to keep it under control—hasn’t, in fact, seen it since his arrival in Burial Mounds. He hopes his husband doesn’t carry it around with him.

Wen Qing finishes placing her needles and stands, and Lan Wangji squeezes Wei Ying’s hand before letting go to pull out his guqin.

He decides to start with a minor healing song, something not terribly invasive, instilling his qi into the notes. Wei Ying’s breathing quickens, and Lan Wangji tries to keep his attention on the music, reminding himself that Wen Qing is the one with medical expertise, is the one monitoring. And, he notices, is directing the spiritual energy into the acupuncture needles.

“Pain?” she asks.

“No,” Wei Ying says, his voice strained. “It’s… warm. Good.”

Lan Wangji lets out a breath he didn’t realize he was holding and turns his attention to the music, letting all his focus go to the task. Wei Ying is always cold, and he idly wonders if that’s what resentful energy feels like—cold. He remembers him shivering with fever in the cave after the battle with the Xuanwu, and wonders if that was more than fever, if perhaps that was in part the cold of the resentful energy from the sword.

Wen Qing eventually touches his shoulder, and he stills his strings. She gestures toward Wei Ying. At a glance, he can already see the bruising has faded. He takes Wei Ying’s hand again and finds his husband is sound asleep, his face utterly relaxed.

“I’d call that a success, at least tentatively,” Wen Qing comments.

She takes Wei Ying’s other wrist, clearly examining his meridians.

“It didn’t clear out much resentment, but that’s expected given we were targeting his muscles. It may have cleared out some of what’s seeped into his body, which would be good.”

“It’s seeped into his body?” Lan Wangji asks, trying not to be alarmed.

She nods, sighing, and begins the process of removing her needles.

“It’s damaging, of course. He doesn’t complain, but we try not to ask him to do too much. He’s probably in some level of pain constantly, and the possession made it worse. I hope this helps.”

Lan Wangji wishes he had known, but also knows there’s little he could have done if he had. Throughout the war, he had watched Wei Ying, taken in his increasingly pinched features, his tense posture, his temper. He had worried it was the resentful energy, and he finds it doesn’t make him happy to have been right. Wei Ying had felt he had to suffer it alone, and now remains quiet about his pain. Perhaps his constant pain contributes to his bad days, as well.

He can see the difference now, how his muscles are relaxed in a way they haven’t been even when Wei Ying slept.

“I think letting him sleep before another session is best,” Wen Qing comments as she removes the last of her needles. “It will allow us to see the impact later.”

He nods, and pulls the blanket up around Wei Ying’s shoulders, tucking it around him—even if the qi warmed him, it would be temporary.

Wen Qing placed the needles back in her basket and stood.

“If he’s up for another round in the afternoon, we’ll try it. I’ll sterilize these just in case.”

She bows, and Lan Wangji returns it as best as he can seated beside Wei Ying and holding his hand.

“I’ll send A-Ning with lunch later. Also, I think one of the aunties will be by to fit you for clothing.”

“Is there anything I can help with?” he asks, though he’s reluctant to leave Wei Ying.

Wen Qing quirks a smile.

“As I told you when you said you were staying, I want you to help Wei Wuxian. He needs your help more than we do.”

He nods, and she leaves, closing the curtains behind her.

Lan Wangji watches Wei Ying sleep for a long while before deciding he can perhaps help him in other ways. He leaves the alcove and returns with a sheaf of Wei Ying’s disorganized and messy notes, setting it on the table beside the bed. Within minutes he transforms the small table into a desk, fresh paper and ink ready for him to work.

At the very least, he can rewrite Wei Ying’s notes, using separate sheets of paper for the different ideas so he can work with them more easily. He has copied and rebound books for the library at Cloud Recesses, after all, and Wei Ying once complimented his calligraphy. Even now, the memory makes his ears heat, as it was very shortly followed by the porn incident.

Of course, they’ve done what was displayed in that book multiple times, so the memory is less embarrassing and more arousing.

With one last glance at Wei Ying peacefully slumbering next to him, he gets to work.

#the untamed #mo dao zu shi #mdzs #chen qing ling #CQL #my fanfiction #wangxian #untamed fanfiction #untamed fanfic #mdzs fanfic #mdzs fanfiction #cql fanfic #cql fanfiction #wei wuxian #wei ying #wen qing #wen ning #lan zhan #lan wangji

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druggedupdog · 4 years

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major tw sorry. this is pretty graphic and long. please like if you read.

chris had it all planned out the moment he started talking to me. i was eleven. it was after school, i was trying to walk home and these kids from my class kept fucking trying to follow me and rile me up because it was apparently funny watching an obviously mentally ill child have a breakdown. and chris just. appears out of nowhere and tells the kids to fuck off and they leave and i INSTANTLY want to be his friend because HOLY SHIT someone actually defended me and i was just so desperate for company and honestly at the time i was already planning to kill myself. and i just. i just tell him everything. that same day, the same day i met this complete stranger, i just start spilling my life story. my dad's an asshole and beats me, my brothers think my pain is funny, no one likes me at school and thinks i'm weird, my mom's fucking dead, i live in a moldy delapidated house with little food because my family is fucking poor, i hate church and i hate school and homework and i just want to get away from my stupid town or die. etc etc etc. and he listens and says he's gonna protect me and stupid fucking me believed him. i set myself up, i don't even know if he knew about all this prior because i thought maybe he stalked me but no i told him everything about my shitty life and he used it for his advantage.

two years later he says i'm old enough to date him. but honestly prior to that it had been maybe a month of me knowing him and he was hugging me a bit too long, smelling my hair and clothes, touching me in suggestive ways, calling me baby names and other nicknames, always talking about how hot i was and how he couldn't wait until i was older and he could fuck me. but what the fuck did i do? absolutely nothing. because i grew up in a sheltered mormon home and didn't know jack shit about sex or love or anything. i just loved the attention he gave me because fuck at least it was "positive" and i felt like such a rebel when he would buy me things i wasn't supposed to have like alcohol and cigarettes and any illegal street drug you can think of. he very easily manipulated me and i fell so fucking hard for it because i have shit for brains. anyway the literal day i turned 13 he basically pushes on me that we're dating now and i was just like "lol haha okay! whatever you say! please don't leave me!" and after school he took me to his "parent's house" while they were "on vacation" because he was very obviously 16 and definitely not lying about it. then he took me to his bedroom, told me we'd play some video games for a while, gave me some alcohol and i got drunk as shit. he kept saying some nonsense about like... how i looked really warm from the booze and i should take my clothes off to be more comfortable. i don't remember it that well. i think i did it really half-assed and he ended up taking my clothes off for me and then he started cuddling with me and touching my dick and i kept trying to push him away but i was too fucking drunk to really do anything and i just. i just kept saying stop. stop please. please please please. and he kept going until he turned me over, pushed my face into the mattress and penetrated me. it hurt so fucking bad and i tried screaming but nothing came out. i started crying and he told me that everything was okay. it was supposed to hurt. i was supposed to be scared. and i still believed him even though every part of me found it hard to believe. i black out from the alcohol and the fear. the next day i'm awake in his bed, covered in his cum, trying to process what the fuck just happened and i'm freaking out but i don't know why because chris loves me and said it was okay so why do i feel like this. why. he made me breakfast and i throw it up when i get to my dad's and he screams at me for being sick and missing school and he asks me where i was and i don't say anything and he beats me. so i go back to chris's house that night to get away and this time chris has heroin for me instead of booze and he rapes me after i shoot up and start nodding off. i find out chris is 19 after looking in his wallet for spare money while he's asleep after getting off. i go back to my dad's house because i'm uncomfortable and i get beat by my dad again. and then i go back to chris's and get raped again. back to my dad's and get beat again. back to chris's and get raped again. the cycle repeats again and again and again. until i'm 16 and my brothers snitch to my dad that i like men and i have a boyfriend and my dad beats the shit out of me, raids my room while my brothers hold me down and force me to watch as he finds candid photos chris took of me nude and getting violated by him as well as all the heroin and other drugs and paraphernalia i had stashed and hidden in my room. he beats the shit out of me AGAIN and starts throwing all of my shit out of my bedroom window and when i run out to grab it all he locks the door behind me and doesn't let me back in. so i go back to chris's house and beg him to let me live with him and he obviously agrees.

so then i get raped for even more months but at this point i'm just conditioned to accept it no matter how much i hate it. then chris starts yelling at me for trivial things. then he threatens me. then he starts hitting me. then he locks me in the moldy spare bedroom with only a dirty old mattress in it whenever we disagree over shit and starves me for days. at this point i'm very deep in my heroin addiction, so he forces me into withdrawal whenever i'm locked up and i am in so much physical anguish. he only comes in to give me my fix and rape me. sometimes he only rapes me and i feel and remember everything so i actually scream during these times and he shoves his fingers in my mouth to shut me up and if i bite down he slaps me. this goes on for two fucking years. but i stay because i need the drugs and i need the love and attention and he really does love me he's just going through a phase he'll apologize and see what he's doing eventually i still see glimpses of it sometimes when he lets me out of the room and cuddles and kisses me and calls me his cute little boy. but then as i approach my 18th birthday i find out he's molesting another 13 year old. i dont do anything. when i'm 18 he tells me he's had enough of my shit and kicks me out. i beg and plead for him to let me stay. i promise him i'll do anything for him i'll let him rape me nonstop all day or murder me if that's what he wants to do. i tell him i love him so much we're meant to be together i want to marry him i want to spend the rest of my life with him and get high all day with him. he tells me he doesn't care. i'm useless to him now because i'm an adult. i'm a pathetic junkie and i was just an experiment because he had a fetish he really wanted to test out and i seemed like a good target. he's already found another child to lust over and torture the same way he did to me.

this post is long and i basically spilled my life story but i dont care i don't anymore i'm going to kill myself. i quit heroin but i regret it so fucking bad EVEN THOUGH IT REMINDS ME OF HIM ITS THE DRUG HE USED TO HURT ME AND TORTURE ME FOR YEARS AND YEARS I WAS TORTURED INA DIRTY ROOM FOR YEARS USED AS HIS CUM RAG. i can't get over it. i abused heroin because i was in so much pain. i didn't want to handle it all it was just too much. i need it again because the memories just keep coming back every time i lay down and close my eyes. i want it to go away i want the pain gone it hurts. it hurts all the time. i hurt everywhere all the time and i can't process it. why. why did he and my dad leave me so broken like this. wouldn't it have been less effort to just kill me? it would hurt me less, actually. it would have been more humane. i wouldn't have to suffer the memories, the nightmares, the panic attacks, the learned behaviors, the harmful coping mechanisms and self-medication, the mental anguish that manifests as intense physical pain, the nonstop crying and bouts of rage that make everyone around me fear me. i can't be normal anymore. i'm just like this now and i never wanted it and i can't be a useful contribution to society. the last actual job i had i lost because a coworker made a rape joke and i beat him over it. i'm some fucking animal i'm not human anymore. i don't want to be this.

so it's either go back to heroin again and possibly lose ethan over it or kill myself and i guess suffer the consequence of death and hurt ethan. those are the options because i can't do this shit anymore, sorry.

#journal entry #do not reblog

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rodolphuslestranges · 3 years

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{ tom riley / cis man / he/him } —- Books in their arms, [ RODOLPHUS LESTRANGE ] ran across the campus, catching a few wandering eyes along the way. They are known as a [ NINETEEN ] [ PUREBLOOD ], entering their [ SECOND YEAR ] of university. They are a [ NATURALIST ] major to become a [ BREEDER ] and are known to be [ ENTHUSIASTIC ] but [ IMPULSIVE ]. They belong in [ CARE FOR MAGICAL CREATURES, QUIDDITCH (BEATER), and MELIUS SANGUINE ] and side with the [ DEATH EATERS ] in the war. —- { OOC: tessa, 19, she/her, GMT+1 }

The Basics:

Full Name: Rodolphus Ameinias Iago Lestrange Nicknames: Dolphus, Rod/Roddy, ‘you absolute twat!’ Date of birth: September 26, 1958 (19) Blood Status: Pureblood Sexuality: Gay (closeted) Major: 2nd year, Wizarding Naturalist Future career: Breeding of Winged Horses Patronus: Doesn’t have one Clubs: Care of Magical Creatures and Melius Sanguine Quidditch: He plays as a beater

The rest contains some mentions of alcohol abuse, parental death and grief, and unhealthy coping mechanisms!

The Past:

Rodolphus was born a few minutes before his younger twin brother, Rabastan, and was raised as the oldest son of Raoul and Adrastia Lestrange. Throughout his childhood, there was very little he could think of that may have been improved. His parents raised them with a sense of superiority, as much freedom as they wished as long as certain rules were followed, and an undoubtedly unconditional feeling of love. Raoul, like his father and grandfather before him, was the head of Lestrange Stables, a prestigious winged horse centre focused on the breeding and training of Abraxans, Granians, and Pegasi. Rodolphus has always known he would one day inherit this business, and through his love for the horses and his natural gift at handling them, has spent most of his youth helping his father.

Raoul and Adrastia Lestrange were upper-class purebloods and uncommonly cosmopolitan for their status. Married at 20, they travelled the world for nearly a decade before they had the twins at 30, and though they hold a fair amount of prejudice towards muggleborns, they considered themselves to be openminded and accepting of most everyone, a trait they attempted to instil in their sons. In their ideal world, they would’ve taken the twins, as well as their dearest friend Narcissa Black, to their estates in France after they’d graduated Hogwarts; knowing how impulsive and easily influenced their sons were, they wanted them out of reach of the war and Voldemort, who they’d gone to school with when he was still Tom Riddle.

An ideal world does not exist, and though the twins have told the world that their parents died of dragon pox, they were murdered in their homes at the beginning of Rodolphus’ seventh year. He was thrust into the position of Head of his family at the age of seventeen, and it caused a drift between him and Rabastan. That year he turned to fire whiskey as a means of healing, used his fists more often than his parents would’ve appreciated, and he’s never wished for something stronger than for his parents to come back to him and take back the responsibilities he’s always felt he couldn’t handle.

The present:

Rodolphus, in most aspects, is a relatively kind person. He’s charming, good with animals, and though he’s impulsive, reckless, and unafraid to fight with or without wand if provoked, he’s by no means cruel. He’s a member of Melius Sanguine but hasn’t taken the dark mark (yet), and if you asked him right now he’d tell you that his dreams for the future include spending all his time in the stables, marrying a beautiful pureblood woman, and raise children with her. He hasn’t told anyone but his brother and best friend, Narcissa Black, that he’s gay; this includes his parents, something he’s regretted deeply since their deaths. Regardless, he’s very aware of what his duties as head of the family include, and though he’s not looking forward to it by any means, he’s planning to marry soon after, or if the opportunity rises even before, graduating university.

Rodolphus and his brother have a reasonable relationship if one overlooks the painful fact they can’t really understand each other anymore since their parents’ murders. They talk, play miniature quidditch, and would no doubt kill and die for one another, but they can’t confide in each other about the sometimes unbearable grief and the ways they’re coping with it, and haven’t talked about the choices they’ll soon have to make regarding the war and their futures. In order to avoid having to make any of these decisions, he drowns his sorrows in alcohol, taking unnecessary risks in quidditch and horse riding, and a whirlwind of an affair with Alphard Black. Rodolphus is nothing if not proud of how functioning of an alcoholic he manages to be.

His thoughts on blood purity are simple: he believes the lies his parents told him about him and his brother being superior because of their blood, but has also understood their beliefs that by no means that should mean muggleborns or halfblood deserve violence or even death. Still, just because he doesn’t think they deserve it, he has no problem at all associating with those who do. His motivations for having joined Melius Sanguine aren’t based on bloodstatus, but the sense of superiority and purpose it gave him when he joined the university, and the more real that choice becomes the less sure he is about it.

Connections (will be added onto most likely!):

Rabastan Lestrange: Twin brother. He loves Rabastan, dearly, and it hurts him that they can’t seem to talk to each other about the traumas they really should be discussing. He’d take a killing curse for his brother, but would punch him in the face without a second thought as well, and he thinks that’s a quite alright dynamic.

Narcissa Black: His best friend. He’s known her since the three of them were five years old, and he considers her his sister. She’s been a part of his family for as long as he can remember, and they understand each other on a level he’s always missed with Rabastan. She’s the only one he’s comfortable talking about his sexuality with, knowing that though Bastan accepts his being gay completely, it’s Narcissa who understands the struggles of growing up queer in pureblood society. Doesn’t know what he would do without her.

#;; about #euhqintro

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dutten-does-the-fanfic · 4 years

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I Want You Here With Me (Is It Too Much to Ask for Something Great) ch. 13

Title: I Want You Here With Me (Is It Too Much to Ask for Something Great) ch. 13 of 14 (ch. 1) Pairing: Isak Valtersen/Even Bech Næsheim Word count: 14.350 Warnings: Language, explicit sexual content, internalized homophobia, closeting, using alcohol as an unhealthy coping mechanism

AO3

Summary: The one where it’s been two years since Isak last saw or spoke with Even, and no one knows that Isak ever knew Even at all

Present

Nothing is magically solved after that.

Even spends five awful hours yelling on the phone – Isak can’t tell at who specifically, probably more than one person. He’s never heard Even sound this furious and it’s honestly a bit terrifying.

Isak had always been the one who’d been quick to yell and shout, bottling things up until everything spills out. Even had internalized everything, going quiet and letting the hurt fester.

Maybe the turning point had been receiving shady divorce papers already signed and then being completely ghosted except for one phone call where he’d been told to come pick his shit up or it would get thrown out. Not that Isak had thrown anything out. He’d saved the stuff he wasn’t able to part with and then left everything else behind for Even or his team to take care of.

Once the phone call is over with, Even hides himself away in Isak’s room and doesn’t come out for two hours, all of which Isak spends pacing between the hallway, the kitchen, and Jonas’ room, debating whether or not he should go in and check on him.

He wouldn’t have hesitated before, he knows, but things aren’t exactly the same as before. They’re different, because they’re supposed to be. ‘Different’ is going to be ‘better’.

When Even comes back out, he’s hesitant about it, looking at Isak with big, vulnerable eyes. The apologies are falling out of his mouth before Isak’s finished taking the first step towards him.

A lot is learned from that phone call.

The NDA is technically rendered invalid – even if there hadn’t been so many shady legal issues with its existence in the first place, any signature of Isak’s was void the second the information became public knowledge.

The divorce never got finalized – Isak hadn’t doubted that Even hadn’t signed the papers, but at this point he’s far beyond taking things at face value and believing that goddamn legal team couldn’t have wormed their way into getting things to be how they wanted them to be.

Knowing he’s still married doesn’t come as big of a shock as it did when Even had told him, but it still feels like a punch to the stomach, makes him feel hollow and full at the same time and so off kilter he has to sit down.

Even looks at him with worried eyes, so Isak lets him run his fingers through his hair until he doesn’t feel as off-centered.

It’s not that he doesn’t want to be married, doesn’t want to be married with Even, it’s just that he’s spent literal years thinking he wasn’t, and knowing he is takes a bit more adjustment that Isak had thought it would’ve.

Even’s new management team – new in brackets, because apparently the team from hell hasn’t represented him since his second short film had come out – wants him to do interviews, wants for him to be out there, riding the free publicity wave to the fullest, but Even refuses.

It freaks the both of them out, though, reminding them that this is so much bigger than the two of them. It makes Isak question any future that they could have, because Even is a public figure, he’s a world-famous director, and Isak is a university student, hasn’t even gotten his BA yet.

Which is how they end up having their first massive row since that day in the kitchen when everything had blown up and finally come to light.

“What are you supposed to do, show up on the red carpet with me on your arm?”

“What’s wrong with having you on my arm?”

They’re not mad at each other, that’s not what it’s about. It’s years upon years of deeply layered insecurities and being terrified.

Even had ended up doing a series of tweets in the middle of the night when he hadn’t been able to fall asleep because of the nerves. His hands had been shaking, and he’d done typo after typo until his fancy phone had almost given up. Then he’d shut his phone off entirely and had kept his focus on Isak so he wouldn’t be tempted to check what people were saying about him, about them.

Isak can’t remember if they slept that night, in the end so exhausted their bodies had just given up, but he does remember the feeling of lying with Even, so close to him, and doing nothing but enjoying being with each other. It wasn’t exactly like they’d never done this before, but it had been freeing in a sense, the threatening knowing that they had to keep quiet, keep to the shadows, gone.

Then there are the things that you can’t learn from a phone call.

Magnus – for all of his support and kindheartedness – had been the first one to break and ask if they’re done being Debbie Downers yet so he can invite Vilde over.

Isak is left so flabbergasted he doesn’t even get a good one in about Magnus and Vilde apparently being an actual thing now.

Coming out is easier when you’re technically already out.

Telling people isn’t as difficult as Isak had always feared. The words, “This is Even, he’s my husband,” sound weird coming out of his mouth, and most time he only manages to get out “This is Even,” before he clamps shut.

Still, Even meets Eskild and Linn and he meets the girls – Sana he apparently already knows. It kind of blows Isak’s mind that Sana is Elias’ sister, that they’re siblings, that Isak has been so close to the people who mattered to Even and hadn’t even realized it.

In turn, Isak meets Even’s boys, feeling awkward as hell. Mikael he’s already met, but he hasn’t exactly made the best impression on him by first running away and then being the stranger that Even had married and who was now taking care of him after not speaking to each other for two years. It’s weird with all of them, though, because Isak feels like he’s technically known all of them since he was fifteen with how vividly Even would describe everything.

It goes well, though, for both of them. Eskild is clearly still a little hurt, but he’s putting his best foot forward without being forced to by Isak’s begging looks. Eva’s great at being welcoming, but she always was. Yousef is a little stilted with Isak, but Elias has apparently appointed himself to be the tension-diffuser which means telling stories about dumb shit that the group used to get up to. Isak doesn’t tell him that he already knows the stories, that’s not the point.

Sana shows up with an armful of notebooks, giving him a look that isn’t nearly as chilling as it would’ve been when they’d first been forced into each other’s orbits. He grins at her, tells her “thank you, Sanasol,” which makes Sana roll her eyes, but she’s smiling as well.

She doesn’t comment on how this was why Isak had been so wrong, why he’d taken to hiding away from the world, sometimes using her as a means for it. She also doesn’t say anything about his breakdown in the empty classroom. She really is a great best bud, Isak had been right about that.

Isak is lucky. He knows that. He knows a lot of people don’t get to have this positive a response from the people they’re closest to. But then there’s also the fact that it isn’t only the people in Isak’s life that he’s come out to, that it’s everyone in the world who knows and who feels entitled to express their opinions on it.

There are a lot of opinions on it.

Isak makes it a point not to look himself or Even up, but his restraint hasn’t improved in the past two years where he’s been making himself that promise anyway and is yet to manage keeping it.

He can’t remember ever having been called this many names, not even when Elias and his friends had been ganging up on him for most of his time in school. It puts him in a weird mood, a real funk that he can’t seem to shake himself out of.

The boys try to help, but they don’t understand. Isak isn’t sure he understands it, either.

It’s not until he one morning wakes up alone, panicked because what if, what if, what if and stumbling out of bed to check if Even’s gone, that he manages to shake himself out of his rut.

Because he finds Even in the kitchen, bathed in the early morning sunlight, wearing the Jesus t-shirt that Isak probably should’ve given up on years ago, bare footed, and wielding a spatula, scrambling up some eggs and toasting two slices of bread.

He smiles when he sees Isak, albeit a bit concerned at the state of him, and he welcomes him with open arms when Isak treads closer, holding him tightly and shielding him from the heat of the stove as he continues to mix the eggs.

It doesn’t matter, Isak realizes. It doesn’t matter one single bit what everyone online or in real life is saying about him or about Even or about him and Even. As long as he gets to have this, this is what matters.

Even leaves for a week to live with Mikael. Not that they really suspect the forced proximity of basically living together is doing anything good or bad to them, it’s just a precaution. They haven’t even been together in ages, but Isak is still surprised with how much he’d gotten used to Even just always being there.

That week is awful, and the time Even isn’t over at Isak’s anyway is spent texting Even the most inane, random things just because Isak’s heart can’t handle the risk of losing Even again.

They should probably do something to stop it from developing into a codependency that would be really unhealthy for the both of them, but for now they’re both a bit extra clingy, nerves frazzled from finding out that the past two years of their lives have practically been one big lie that could’ve prevented months upon months of heartbreak. It’s not an easy pill to swallow.

It’s still a necessity learning how they fit together again. Isak still remembers how Even takes his coffee and tea and what he likes for breakfast when he’s happy or when he’s stressed, but now there are new things about Even that Isak doesn’t know – like what he’ll insist on throwing into the grocery cart, although Isak’s certain most of it is simply to make Isak laugh.

Isak draws the line at the line of spices Even insists are a necessity to have in one’s spice rack. Isak tells him that he refuses to believe him until he’s able to pronounce Pottagaldrar correctly. Even spends the next minute pronouncing everything just a smidge wrong, and then laughs so hard he has to sit down in the middle of the isle when Isak sing-songs Kardemomme.

Isak is slow at taking off his jacket. He can hear Even in the kitchen, putting away the groceries and rearranging the fridge to his liking, and Isak has missed this.

He had spent so long missing Even that he’d forgotten about all these little things that made up their life together; the grocery shopping and Even putting it away, and Isak picking up after them and doing the laundry, and he has missed this domesticity that they so easily fall into every single time.

The fridge door closes and Even comes out to see why Isak is still loitering in the hall, his jacket hanging limply in one hand.

“Did you fall asleep out here?” Even laughs, then comes closer to grab Isak’s jacket to hang it up on the coat rack.

Even’s leaning down over him when he reaches down for his jacket. He smells good, like clean soap and a scent that’s distinctively Even and a little bit like Isak because he’s wearing his shirt, and he’s all up in Isak’s space and Isak can’t not.

Even steps back once he’s gotten the jacket out of Isak’s limp hold. He’s still smiling and Isak knows he’s just waiting to tease Isak further. He can already see how Even turns to look at him instead of the coat rack.

He’s smiling, wide and with his teeth and so hard that it makes his eyes crinkle. Isak waits until Even’s looking at him to let his eyes wander down to Even’s mouth.

Even when he’s smiling like this, his bottom lip looks plump and Isak really, really wants to kiss him. They haven’t kissed once this entire time, and Isak lets himself have his fill of looking, of following the curve of his cupid’s lip right up to the corner of his mouth that comes closer and closer the more Even stops smiling.

Isak briefly looks up to look at Even’s eyes to see if something’s wrong.

Even looks… so taken aback, but not uncomfortable in the slightest. He misses the knob on the coat rack so Isak’s jacket falls to the ground. Even doesn’t even move to look at it, doesn’t do anything that means he’ll have to look away from Isak.

He swallows, and Isak trails the movement in his throat as well, briefly stopping at his lips when he goes back to look at Even’s eyes again.

Isak licks his lips once, just a peek of his tongue against his bottom lip, but that’s all it takes for Even to take two massive steps and then he’s in Isak’s space.

He pushes him up against the wall harshly enough that Isak loses his breath, and then Even’s lips are on his and Isak can’t keep in his muffled moan at the feeling.

It’s frantic and a bit wet and messy. It feels like the floor is swimming underneath Isak’s feet and he has to touch Even, has to, so he grabs on to whatever bit he first touches – his sides – and curls his hands along his ribs underneath his open hoodie, nails slightly digging into his back through his t-shirt.

Even makes a muffled groan that makes Isak’s blood rush downwards; something that isn’t lessened in the slightest when Even grabs on to his hair and clenches his hand into a fist until his hold is so secure he can move and direct Isak around however he likes.

Even is a warm force pressed up against him, and Isak can feel he’s already hard from where his crotch is pressed up against Isak’s hip. Isak is well on his own way there, if he isn’t there already. God, he can’t breathe, but he isn’t sure he actually wants to. He’s gasping into Even’s mouth at every opportunity and Even is doing the same, but neither of them move away to let the other breathe properly.

It’s so hot and a bit filthy and Isak should probably be worried that they’re doing this out in the hallway, but he literally doesn’t have any part of his brain left that isn’t fully enraptured by Even.

So he doesn’t stop to think until they hear the front door open up and whatever conversation that had been going on halters immediately.

Both Isak and Even tense up before Even draws back. He can’t get far with the way Isak is still holding on to him so desperately, but then again, Even’s hands are still in his hair so it’s not like Isak could take a single step back if he wanted to, had he not already been pressed against the wall.

Jonas is obviously trying to keep a cool, relaxed expression on his face, but Mahdi is grinning like an idiot. Magnus is too far back behind the two of them, but Isak’s willing to bet he’s gaping at them.

Jesus, this is the first time Isak and Even have even kissed in front of them, of course it had to be a heavy make-out session as well instead of an innocent peck before one of them is out the door.

Fuck.

Fuck, Isak can’t breathe and it feels startlingly horrible compared to just seconds before when he hadn’t been able to breathe because of Even.

“Well, well, well,” Jonas is grinning now. “Did you get the grocery shopping done?”

Even clears his throat. This conversation feels very misplaced considering Isak is still pressed up against the wall with Even pressed up against him and they’re in the middle of the hallway and none of them are moving. “It’s in the fridge.”

“Sweet,” Jonas nods. His eyes are soft when he looks at Isak and Isak doesn’t even dare think of how he looks – a bit debauched if anything and quite possibly like his friends are a firing squad here just for him.

Jonas nods again, but this time it doesn’t feel as much as an acknowledgment they’ve gotten the grocery shopping done, but more of a reassurance for Isak. Isak can almost hear Jonas’ thoughts shouting at him across the distance, you’re allowed to kiss your husband!

And Isak – Isak can’t help the grin slowly stretching out across his face, because, yes, he is allowed to kiss his husband. He shouldn’t feel like he’s not allowed, shouldn’t let anyone, whether they’re in his life or not, tell him he can’t kiss his husband. He’s so, so in love with Even, and if he wants to kiss him – and Even wants to kiss him – then he’s going to kiss him.

Jonas must see it on his face, because he’s properly grinning now as he nods one last time.

“Yeah,” Isak should probably clear his throat as well. Despite the interruption, he feels Even’s dick twitch against his hip at the slight raspy sound to his voice. “If that’s all then –“ he leans up on the tips of his toes to press his mouth right up against Even’s ear and whispers, “I’d really like for you to be inside me.”

Even makes a choked sound as his hands momentarily tighten in Isak’s hair. Isak pushes against his stomach until he stumbles back a step, his hands flail for a moment before Isak grabs one and starts tugging him in the direction of his bedroom.

“Alright-y,” Jonas says and reaches over Mahdi to grab onto the door handle. “We’ll just go and play some football, then, if you don’t mind.”

“Really don’t,” Isak calls back. God, he can’t stop smiling and Even is smiling right back at him.

“Wait, what’s Evak doing?” Magnus called out. “What are you do- what are they doing?”

Isak giggles as he drags Even into his room, the slam of his door shutting close keeping out whatever else Magnus might’ve been saying, and then Isak leans up and they’re kissing again.

It’s been literal years since Isak last kissed Even, and he’s fucking missed it. He’s missed Even’s body pressed up against his own, he’s missed the feeling of Even’s lips against his own, against him in general, and he’s missed Even.

It’s goddamn everything.

It’s rediscovering each other, which is a little bit of a weird feeling when Isak remembers just how much time they used to spend just making out. That probably makes it easier to pick it up right where they left off, though, because it doesn’t take long before Even’s kissing him long and deep, turning Isak pliant and needy.

Things don’t feel as terrifying when he’s kissing Even.

Having kissed Even in front of the boys doesn’t feel like the death sentence Isak had thought it would be. Having people know that he likes boys, that he likes – loves Even – doesn’t make his world fall apart.

Isak makes a soft noise when Even pulls back, immediately leaning back in, but Even’s grinning too widely to kiss Isak properly, the way he wants to be kissed. Isak frowns and opens his eyes, hoping a grumpy look will make Even pull himself together quicker.

“I can’t believe you just did that,” Even whispers against his lips, immediately causing Isak’s cheeks to heat up.

He squirms a bit, but he doesn’t feel terrible, not in the way he’d thought he would’ve.

Isak tilts his head back, jaw set as he looks at Even determinedly. “Would you rather I’d have to be quiet?”

All of the air in Even’s lungs comes whooshing out. His fingers dig into Isak’s hips until he’s wriggling forward, trying to get closer or to get Even moving away from the door.

The bed. They should – things suddenly feel a lot more urgent, like it had when Even had dropped Isak’s jacket in favor of keeping his eyes on him.

Isak pushes at Even’s chest to get him moving, but Even is already dipping down to kiss Isak again, delaying Isak’s plans and thoughts for a few seconds before the heat gathering in his center is too insistent for Isak to forget about it.

“Even, Ev, come on – “ the words come out muffled when his lips are still moving against Even’s, but Even still manages to understand him.

“Did you mean it?” he asks, standing still when Isak tries to stumble forward, tries to get them closer to the bed that’s literally so close. “What you said? Did you mean it? Because we don’t – we don’t have to –“

And Even trying to be gallant, trying to let things go slowly when this is hardly the first time they’ve done anything – just the first time this time around – shouldn’t be this much of a turn on, but it is. Isak literally feels dizzy with it, completely breathless as he pulls back just so he can look Even in the eye when he tells him.

“I want it,” he says, then gets shy at the thought of having been too blunt.

Maybe Even had been trying to pause it because he didn’t want it, had changed his mind, had –

“Do – do you?” he asks quietly, suddenly unable to look past the corner of Even’s eye. Asking takes a lot, but that’s a thing they do now, asking. Talking. Because not doing so had been what had made everything so messed up for so long. “We don’t have to –“

Even cuts him off with his lips, which hurts a bit because their teeth end up knocking together and Even somehow manages to nick Isak’s bottom lip slightly with his canine.

“Of course I want to,” Even tells him, licking with the tip of his tongue where his tooth had caught Isak’s skin. “Silly, beautiful boy, of course I want to.”

Even the tips of Isak’s ears feel like they’re a flaming pink.

“Maybe you didn’t,” he counters, not sure why. The knot of anxiety in his heart isn’t easy to get rid of.

Even’s eyes are soft when Isak gets the courage to meet his eyes again. One hand cards through Isak’s hair gently.

“I do,” Even says, sending a hot surge of want through Isak when he remembers an entirely different time when Even had looked at him like that and had said those words to him. “I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t, I promise. Please don’t doubt that, don’t doubt –“ don’t doubt me, Isak knows Even wants to say but probably can’t bring himself to.

Isak not trusting Even and his feelings for Isak had been part of the mess after all. Some wounds need time to heal. Neither of them are entirely okay yet, but they will be. For once, Isak’s entirely certain of that.

“Okay,” Isak says, giving Even two short pecks before he tries to push him backwards towards the bed again. “Okay.”

Even’s malleable this time around, so it doesn’t take more than two seconds before the back of his knees knock against the bed and he sits down, grinning up at Isak.

Leaning down to kiss Even also feels like a novelty that it shouldn’t, because they’ve done this before, Isak keeps reminding himself.

Even must be able to sense the inner turmoil Isak’s tumbling around with in his thoughts, because he pulls back to check on Isak again.

But Isak does decidedly not want to be checked on, so Even doesn’t get further than opening his mouth before Isak falls forward at the same time as he’s pushing Even down so they both end up lying on the bed, facing each other.

“Faen,” Even laughs, hurrying to curl his hands around Isak’s waist again. “God, you startled me.”

Isak’s grinning, wants a little bit to tease Even and tell him, “good”, but he wants to kiss him more, so he does that instead.

Kissing is good. It’s so good. Isak never wants to stop. He twists onto his back so he can pull Even on top of him, improving the angle immensely. Feels Even tongue against the seam of his lips, pushing in just slightly before he pulls away again, breaking their lips apart.

Isak didn’t mean for the whine to come out, but Even hadn’t been there to muffle it, so it sounds a lot louder than Isak had thought it would’ve.

He feels Even’s breath huff lightly against his cheek when he presses his lips there instead of on Isak’s mouth, then feels his lips press against his jaw, and then down, down, down.

The giggle bubbles out of Isak’s mouth before he can stop it, and he squirms away from Even’s mouth, pressing his cheek against his shoulder reflexively.

Even pauses in confusion, but soon a way too satisfied grin splits across his face.

“What was that?”

Isak flushes and kicks out at Even weakly, his knee more so caressing his side than anything else. “Nothing, kiss me,” he tries to deflect, but Even leans back when Isak clenches his stomach to hold himself up.

“You turned into a little girl when I started to kiss you.”

“I wasn’t ready for neck-action!” Isak protests, his cheeks warm, but he’s laughing as well.

“’Neck-action’,” Even laughs, finally leaning down, but he kisses Isak right at the dip of the base of his throat. “If you’re not even ready for ‘neck-action’, then how will the ‘dick-action’ go down?”

“’Dick-action’,” Isak groans, hiding his face behind the palms of his hands much to Even’s amusement. “What the fuck is wrong with you? You did not just say that.”

Even is laughing too hard to reply, the asshole. He’s a heavy weight on top of Isak, body gone too limp to hold himself up anymore.

And Isak should be groaning, should be teasing Even relentlessly for actually having said the words ‘dick-action’ out loud, but instead he shuffles his left thigh out from underneath Even’s weight and uses it alongside his right leg to wrap around Even’s waist, pulling him in closer and closer and closer until he can’t breathe.

This time it feels like he can’t breathe because he’s laughing too hard for Even to be lying on top of him like this. For all of the reasons why Isak has been unable to breathe in the past, this is probably one of his favorites.

“The mood is all over the place,” Isak complains, says more than anything really.

It’s difficult to complain when Even is smiling like that at him.

“It’s good,” Even assures him, pressing his hips down against Isak’s so he can feel for himself just how good it really is.

Isak has to admit that it does feel dizzyingly good.

“I forgot how fun this is,” Even whispers, fingers running along Isak’s hairline softly. “Or, well, not forgot necessarily, but – you know what it’s like when you know about something because you used to do it every single day, like, you know how hard it was to get up at six every morning because you had to go to school, but you don’t remember the feeling of being so tired and just wanting to stay home? It’s like that. I knew I always loved you and loved having you this way, but I wouldn’t and couldn’t let myself fully remember what it was really like.”

Isak knows. Isak knows this, because he feels it too, but he doesn’t know how to explain it to Even, so instead he pulls Even down by his neck and presses his lips against his.

It doesn’t feel as frantic as it had out in the hall, but it feels deeper than anything else Isak has ever felt. He feels it in his stomach, in his heart, in his lungs, all the way down to his toes.

Even plucks at the hem of the hoodie Isak’s wearing. “Love seeing you in this.”

Isak licks his bottom lip, Even following the movement as if in a trance. They’re both breathing a bit harshly. “But maybe not right now?” he finishes for Even.

“Maybe not right now,” Even agrees, and then they’re shuffling until Even’s up on his knees and Isak’s crunching high enough that he can get the hoodie off with Even’s help.

Isak falls back on the bed with an umph, but the sound has barely left his lips before he’s leaning up again to wrench off his t-shirt, and then help Even out as well.

“Too many layers,” he complains much to Even’s amusement.

“It’s late autumn. In Norway. What do you want?”

“For you to not be wearing this many clothes,” Isak tells him bluntly, because this is a thing he wants to get good at, wants to be able to tell Even the truth without hesitating or second-guessing himself.

Even pauses, but his eyes are dark, cheeks a bit flushed, and he’s staring at Isak like he’s a few seconds away from devouring him.

Then he lifts his shirt off as well, crawling his way back over Isak. The feeling of his skin pressing against Isak’s makes Isak gasp, hands flying up to steady himself somewhere, anywhere, to let Even help him feel grounded.

One hand ends up in Even’s hair, the other clutching at his shoulder.

“One day,” Even pecks Isak’s lips so he can keep talking, “I’ll take you with me to see the world. All the warm places so you’ll never have to put any clothes on.”

Isak feels a bit like he’s made out of goo, that he’s actually melted here in Even’s arms. He cards the hand he has in Even’s hair gently through his locks. “I never needed to see the world,” he says instead of joking back. “That was never what it was about.”

Even shifts his weight onto his elbows so he can get close enough to breathe the same air as Isak.

“I know,” he tells him. “I know it wasn’t, that it isn’t. Let me spoil you, please.”

Isak blinks the tears out of his eyes frantically, looking off to the side even though he knows Even isn’t able to miss it, not when he’s this close. He doesn’t want to cry right now, not when he’s this happy. “Well, if you want to spoil me.“

“Menace,” Even grins, pressing his nose into Isak’s cheek until he’s managed to get his tear ducts back in line.

Isak hears the sentiment for what it is, though, hears the darling loud and clear.

It’s what makes him kiss Even again. Or, maybe it’s everything that makes him kiss Even again. Maybe it’s everything that makes him want to never stop kissing Even again.

The heat that fills Isak feels unbearably good. It’s difficult to breathe sometimes, but Isak doesn’t think not being able to breathe has ever felt like it does right now, with Even’s weight on top of him, his lips against his, his hands searing as they make their way around his body, easily manipulating it into moving this way and that until they’re both entirely undressed.

Isak’s breath hitches in his throat and he can’t seem to tug Even back down on top of him fast enough.

He just – he wants. He wants so much, and he wants so much more, but at the same time it already feels like it’s so much – more than he can handle.

He’s so hard, and Even is too. He gasps when he feels him against him, heat swirling around in his abdomen, making him squirm until Even finally manages to open up the lube and pour some out on his fingers. His hands are shaking a bit, though, and a drop spills onto Isak’s stomach.

He hisses from the cold, startled. Before he knows it Even has closed the lid and dropped the bottle in the sheets – which will be a bitch to search through in a second – so he can place his warm hand on Isak’s stomach. He looks positively massive like that, his fingers spanning all the way from his hip to his ribs.

God, Isak loves the feeling of it. That hasn’t changed in the slightest.

Other things have, though. Even’s more careful when he pushes the first finger in, in a way that he hasn’t been since the very first times they’d tried this.

His hair is different too, done up in the way he always does it; quaffed and stylish. It’s a bit disheveled from Isak messing it up right now, though. Isak sucks in a breath and has to grab on to Even’s hair again, just because.

Even looks up at him cautiously, checking if something is wrong, if Isak’s in pain, but whatever sight Isak makes only has his eyes darkening and lips parting slightly as a harsh breath leaves him.

“Fuck me,” Isak whispers, begs probably. He bears down when Even presses another finger against him, so ready, ready, ready and needing Even to just move on already. “Please.”

“Shh,” Even hushes him, pressing his lips against Isak’s right hip, then moves down to his inner thigh.

If he’d expected it to have a calming effect, it does make Isak feel like drawing in the next breath doesn’t feel impossible, but it serves nothing to quell the frantic energy building inside of him. He reaches down to grab a hold of himself, but Even bats his hand away before he can get a single tug in.

“Not yet,” he promises, grins when Isak whines in reply.

That’s a thing that isn’t different, Isak notes. Even is still as much of a tease as he’s always been.

As if Even can tell what he’s thinking, he curls his fingers perfectly. Isak’s legs curl up reflexively as he grows a million degrees hotter in one second. He accidentally bangs his knee against Even’s elbow, displacing his fingers inside of him. He lets out a soft, complaining noise at the odd movement that Even hurries to hush, his hand returning to Isak’s stomach.

His thumb draws small patterns along the bottom-line of his ribs in a hypnotizing manner.

“You’re good,” Even tells him, asks, Isak can’t tell. He wants to always have Even’s hands on him, wants to always feel like this, wants to always have Even between his thighs, wants time to freeze like this.

Or when he’s actually finally gotten Even inside of him. That’s probably better, definitely better.

“Even,” he gasps, trying to get his point across without saying the actual words. His tongue feels too thick to form words, his lips already sore from all the kissing. The skin on his chin feels a bit itchy from the scratch of Even’s stubble.

“Faen,” Even swears. “Do you have any idea what you look like right now? How you feel around my fingers?”

Isak burns with the flush heating him up. “Do you?”

“Christ.” Even doesn’t even bother closing his mouth now, just folds himself over Isak so he can kiss him.

Kissing Even both is and isn’t the same as it’s always been. He still likes to lick into Isak’s mouth, but it’s more controlled now. His lips are softer too, from stylists needing to present him in the best way possible. But he tastes the same, feels the same against Isak, and Isak can’t get enough of it.

Even’s just breathing now, sharing the same breaths between them over and over again. He works two fingers back inside Isak again.

“We’re good together, aren’t we?” Even’s voice is soft, a little shy, a lot insecure.

Isak cups his cheek. “Always. We’ve always been good together.”

Even nods, pressing his nose against Isak’s. “I wish you’d just called me, back then,” he admits in nothing but a whisper, “so I could’ve told you what a load of rubbish it was.”

It’s difficult feeling the pleasure of having Even inside of him at the same time as the cage around his heart tightens.

“I know.” Isak sort of does too, but there’s also a part of his that doesn’t. “I just – what if that had been it? What if they’d said ‘alright’ and made you pack up and leave? I couldn’t let that happen. I couldn’t let our marriage be the only epic story you’d get to live.”

Even kisses him quiet.

“Still,” Even presses the tip of a third finger against where his other two fingers are, “I wish I hadn’t fucked up and made you believe that was a reality. That it was something I would seriously do, that I would feel like that.”

“We both fucked up,” Isak rectifies. “I shouldn’t have stopped talking to you. We shouldn’t have stopped talking altogether. That’s why it went so wrong.”

He tugs at Even’s hair to get his point across, to make sure he has Even’s attention and that he understands and believes what Isak’s telling him.

“We’re already doing better, aren’t we?”

“We are,” Even agrees. Isak loosens his grip on his hair. “I just wish I could’ve had you with me.”

Isak has to bite down on his tongue. “We can’t keep going over it like this, it’ll kill us. We’re going to move forward instead. Right?”

“Right,” Even nods, but he still looks sad so Isak kisses him again. “I just – I’m sorry I hurt you. I missed you.”

“I missed you, too,” Isak promises. “And I’m sorry I hurt you. I never wanted to do that. I don’t want to hurt you again. That’s why we’re working so hard to do better.”

“I know. We will. We are.” Even is the one to kiss him this time.

It’s slow and warm and good and it makes Isak feel like his lungs are able to fully expand inside of his chest. Even also looks happier when he pulls back, when he moves the two fingers he still has inside Isak.

Isak tries to muffle his groan against the pillows, but Even guides him back to face him instead with his free hand.

“Don’t,” he breathes. “Don’t do that. Let me hear you, please. It’s been so long, I want to hear – I want to see –“

Isak couldn’t muffle the noise he makes even if he wanted to. It’s raw and guttural and Even looks breathless from it.

“Fuck,” Even mutters again, and then there are three fingers inside of Isak and he can’t do anything but repeat the sentiment himself.

“Please,” he breathes, not even sure what he’s begging for. “Please.”

“I’ve got you,” Even promises. “I’ll take care of you. Let me – let me take care of you.”

Isak’s nodding, his eyes are squeezed shut so he can’t tell how Even looks. He can’t open them, he’s so overwhelmed with how good he feels and how much he feels.

Another soft noise escapes him when Even draws out his fingers.

“Uhm –“ Even hesitates, and Isak finally manages to open his eyes.

Even looks as disheveled as Isak feels, just as out of it and not wanting to miss any of it. Isak almost thinks that he’s going to ask if Isak’s sure, if he really wants this, or that he might bring up that he’s sorry again.

“You don’t know what happened to the lube, do you?”

Isak pauses as he registers Even’s words. Then – “Oh, for fuck’s sake, I literally thought that when I heard you just toss it –“

“Hey,” Even protests, but he’s laughing too hard to pull it off. “I was distracted.”

Isak snorts. “Oh, yeah?”

“Yes,” Even agrees. “I have the most gorgeous boy underneath me, how could I not be distracted?”

Christ, Even shouldn’t be able to make him blush this easily, not in a moment like this. But Isak’s cheeks are heating up and he’s squirming underneath Even’s intense gaze. “If you hadn’t been distracted, you could’ve been inside this boy already.”

“God,” Even breathes, a bit like all the air has gotten punched out of his lungs. “Fuck, alright, please help me find the lube.”

“The sheets,” he directs, pulling at the corner of the duvet mostly unhelpfully. “Come on, please.”

“Fuck, okay,” Even mumbles, frantically patting down the duvet until he finds the bottle. “Okay, I’ve got you, come here.”

As if Isak has moved.

He pushes his feet up further on the mattress so he can lift his bum up onto Even’s thighs for easier access, his stomach tightening at the noises of Even slickening himself up.

And then he’s inside of him, and Isak has to fight to keep breathing, to not lose his breath entirely.

He slides in slowly, like Isak is something to be careful with.

“Ev- Even,” he breathes, hands flying out until he can steady himself on Even’s arms. “Even.”

Even’s breathing is labored already. He can’t tear his eyes off of Isak. “Christ, you’re tight. Isak, baby –”

“Can you –“ Isak moans when Even rolls his hips, keeps sliding in slowly, slowly, slowly until Isak’s certain there can’t be anything left. “Even –“

“I’ve got you,” Even promises, leaning down once he’s finally slid in the last couple of inches to kiss him. “Baby, I’ve got you.”

Isak doesn’t mean to moan at the endearment, but he does. God, he’s missed this, he loves this, he loves –

“I’ll always pick you,” Even promises him. “I never want you to doubt that ever again. I pick you.”

Isak nods, kisses him again. “I pick you too, you know. Always. Can you – please, move.”

And Even does. He pulls out about halfway, and then spends ages pushing back in to the hilt. Isak pushes himself up even further, hooks his knee around Even’s waist so he sinks in impossibly deeper on the next thrust.

It’s good. It’s impossibly good, and Isak loses himself to the feeling quickly.

He’s sweating. Even is as well, breath coming in short pants as he moves quicker and quicker, working Isak up to the edge dizzyingly fast. He doesn’t want it to end yet, though. Not when it’s this good, when it means so much to him.

This is the boy that Isak had fallen head-first in love with when Even had broken into the Botanical Garden just to get him a picture of a flower. This is the boy that he’d snuck around with everywhere because neither of them dared to meet in the sunlight. This is the boy that he’d fumbled through awkward blowjobs before they’d gotten the hang of it, the first person he’d ever kissed, ever had sex with, ever fell in love with. This is the boy he’d married, had vowed to spend the rest of his life with. The boy he’d thought he would never get to have like this again, who didn’t want him anymore. This is the boy that Isak will get to spend the rest of his life with.

“Baby,” Even croons sweetly into Isak’s temple as he presses a kiss there. “Baby.”

Isak mewls beautifully even as he chokes on a sob. Tears are wetting his eyelashes and he’s feeling so much he can’t process it.

“Baby, you’re crying,” Even tells him, reminds him, Isak doesn’t know, can’t focus on anything that isn’t Even slowing down until he’s lazily twisting his hips, grinding so deeply inside him. “Why are you crying?”

And there are so many reasons why Isak’s crying, but mostly because it’s been so long since he’s had this, since he’s had Even, and it feels like he’s been lost, wandering for years and years and now he’s finally gotten to come home.

“Love you,” Isak babbles, choked and breathy and whiny and so, so beautifully. “Love you, love you, love you.”

Even might be crying a little bit as well.

“My baby,” Even presses small kisses down his cheekbone, his cheek, his jaw, licking away any tears that have escaped. “My sweet, beautiful, brave boy. So good for me, so good to me.”

A sob breaks out of Isak’s mouth. “Love you.”

He should’ve told him a million times, should’ve never stopped saying it.

“I love you, too. God, Isak, I’m so close, please tell me you’re close as well,” Even begs.

“I’m close,” Isak promises, grabs Even’s shoulder to keep from getting pushed up the bed by Even’s hips. “I love you. I’m so close.”

“Isak,” Even moans, lying down on top of Isak so he can kiss him, his hips picking up the pace again once their chests are pressed together, Isak’s dick is trapped between their stomachs. “What do you need, what can I –“

“Kiss me,” Isak begs. “Just that, just kiss me, please.”

And Even does. His lips glide over Isak’s messily, because his hips are losing their rhythm and they’re both panting but also way too close to the edge to really care.

Isak shoots off between them without a hand to help him along. Even’s hips rock up twice into him before he hides his face away in Isak’s neck, sucking the skin between his teeth to control his moans.

“Baby.” Isak whines at the name again, feeling oversensitive and used and so fucking in love. “It’s always been you. It’ll always be you.”

“I love you,” Isak replies, grunting when Even pulls out.

He only just manages to shift his weight onto one arm before he tumbles onto the bed next to Isak, short of breath and flushed and the most beautiful thing Isak has ever seen.

“I love you,” he whispers, not caring if Even doesn’t hear it. He just needs to say it, needs for the words to be out there in the universe.

It sounds like some bullshit Vilde would probably say, he thinks. How if you tell the universe about what you want, it’ll give it to you.

Isak doesn’t need for the universe to grant him anything. Not when he’s already got what he wants the most. Now he just has to work on keeping it, but he doesn’t think that’ll be a problem – not with all the people he knows he has in his corner.

Even’s still lying on his back from where he tumbled onto the bed. Isak can’t stand not being closer to him, so he rolls onto his side, then continues onto his front until his shoulder bumps against Even’s chest.

“Umph,” Even grunts, but it’s for show and he’s already worming his arm underneath Isak’s neck to support his head. “Halla.”

“Hei,” Isak grins, feeling a little silly because of how shy he suddenly feels. “You alright?”

“I’m fucking amazing,” he grins, moving his elbow so Isak rolls a little closer. He’s smiling softly at him as Isak moves to accommodate him. “And – are you?”

Isak hums pleased. “A little sore.”

Even’s free hand lands on Isak’s hips, the tips of his fingers pressing against his lower back wonderfully. Isak groans at the feeling, pushes up against Even’s touch even as he moves further down towards his cheeks.

“I like it, though,” he admits, squirming with it as Even looks fully captivated by him. “I like you.”

Even’s smile is blinding. “I like you.”

Isak’s own smile might be blinding as well. It makes kissing a little awkward, but by god is Isak going to do it anyway –

The front door slams open.

“Hello, fellow remaining roommates!” Magnus bellows, voice a little muffled through Isak’s closed door, but not enough to easily tune him out.

Or Mahdi, for that sake. “We have returned, because the weather was utterly shit and rubbish for football, so we went to get kebabs, and now we’re freezing cold and with no other excuses to stay out.”

“Oh my god,” Isak groans, shoving his head into the pillow. His mouth sort of lands on Even’s bicep, though, which means his head ends up being a bit shaken about because Even is laughing.

“Don’t worry, though, because we are in the mood for music!” the yelling continues, Jonas this time, because all of Isak’s friends are assholes.

“The goddamn theatrics on them,” Isak complains. “And I thought living with you or Eskild was bad.”

“Shush, you,” Even curls the arm Isak’s lying on to gather him closer. “At least they’re courteous enough to let us know they’re back without just walking in.”

Isak snorts. “’Courteous’. Yeah, right, good one. They’re a bunch of assholes, just you wait –“’

The words haven’t even left Isak’s mouth before The Lion King soundtrack starts blaring through the apartment.

Even’s laugh comes a close second in terms of loudness – a full-on belly laugh that leaves him breathless and with shining eyes as he curls closer to Isak.

“Assholes,” Isak repeats. “I hate them. Let’s move out.”

Even’s still giggling, but not so much that he can’t press a kiss to Isak’s temple. “Not yet, baby. Let’s enjoy this a bit longer.”

He’s smiling and beautiful and he’s Isak’s fucking husband, and it’s so easy to smile back and fall a little more in love to the tunes of Elton John’s ‘Can You Feel the Love Tonight’.

“Okay.”

OOOOO

“If you’re late for Movie Night-night one more time, Isak, I will personally drag the two of you apart, do not test me!”

“Five more minutes,” Isak mutters against Even’s lips, stubbornly kissing him even as Even laughs.

“I don’t think we have five minutes,” Even tells him, but then he’s kissing him again, so what does he know.

They do not, in fact, have five minutes.

Isak’s door knocks against the wall, startling the two of them apart.

“Oh god, my eyes!” Mahdi is screeching despite not even having peeked in and the fact that both Isak and Even are fully clothed. Their lips aren’t even pink and swollen yet – they haven’t been kissing for more than ten minutes because Isak had to finish up his reading first and Even had to fix an issue with a colleague’s script directions. “It burns!”

“Shut up,” Isak groans, tries to pull Even back down on the bed to kiss him. Who cares if the door is open, that’ll show them to not interrupt the sacredness of a closed door.

God, what does he need to do, put a sock on the door handle as well?

Even only lets him for two kisses, though, then he’s pulling back and moving off the bed.

“No,” he whines petulantly, making grabby-hands at Even. Maybe if he pouts long enough Even will take pity on him and tell the boys to fuck off, he has a boy to kiss.

That doesn’t happen.

“Up,” Even orders, only leaning forward long enough to smack at Isak’s hip once, way too fast for Isak to grab on to him to pull him back down.

“It’s a movie night,” Isak complains, hoping Even will see sense and come back already.

Even just laughs, the asshole, from out in the hallway. “What is my favorite thing in the world?”

“Me.”

“Second favorite,” Even amends from out in the kitchen. “What snacks do you want?”

Isak sighs for a good minute, loudly so Even knows of his displeasure. “Chips.”

“What flavor?”

Isak stomps into the living room without looking back at Even in the kitchen. “Onion, because like hell am I kissing you again tonight.”

“Hello there, grumpy boy,” Jonas greets him, probably in an attempt at saving Even from Isak’s wrath when he hears just how loud he’s laughing. “Thank you for gracing us with your presence – umph!” he groans when Isak sinks down on the couch, a well-placed elbow ending up in Jonas’ stomach.

Mahdi and Magnus have gotten comfy already; Mahdi’s scrolling through the movie options, and Magnus is sitting sideways in the armchair he’s dragged closer to the couches.

He’s looking at Isak, frowning thoughtfully. “You know, you’ve gone without getting any dick for years by now. Surely going five minutes without Even’s dick isn’t the end of the world.”

Isak wouldn’t be able to bite his tongue hard enough to refrain from giving Magnus a scorching remark. “Said by someone who has clearly never tried it.”

It was meant to be a dis about Magnus being a virgin. In no way possible has Isak ever expected Magnus to interpret it as something else.

Magnus bats his eyelashes exaggeratedly at him. “Why, Isak, are you offering to ‘show me the ropes’, so to speak?”

The snort Jonas makes is entirely unattractive, and Isak sort of wishes he’d recorded it just for holding it over his head, but then again he’s really glad he’s not recording the atrocity that is this fucking conversation.

“Absolutely not,” he protests. “That’s, like, the biggest turn off in the world.”

“Bullshit!” Magnus calls. “As if you wouldn’t fuck me if you had the chance.”

Isak just looks at him. “No.”

The look on Magnus’ face is so shocked and affronted Mahdi ends up spewing a bit of juice out of his nose.

“Bullshit!” Magnus repeats, snapping his fingers at Isak. “Come on! Out of the three of us, who would you bang first?”

“None of you.” Isak doesn’t even have to think about it.

Magnus squawks, indignantly outraged. “Lies. Lies and slander I tell you.”

“Ranking is in, right now,” Jonas puffs at Isak with his elbow, ignoring the chilling glare he gets in return. “Haven’t you seen all the YouTube videos?”

“It’s only three places,” Magnus whines. “Isak, come on! First, second, and third in the competition for Isak’s dick.”

“You’ve all been disqualified.”

“Isak!”

“Magnus,” Isak finally snaps, “look at what I’m working with. None of you compare.”

Magnus blinks. Then blinks again and shrugs. “Fair enough.”

“That’s it?” Mahdi cries out. “I’ve been listening to your whining and you just give up like that?”

“It’s Even,” Magnus stresses, like that’s an explanation in itself. “There isn’t a single person in the world who wouldn’t want Even. You know what – everyone in this room who has ever wanted Even, raise your hand.” Magnus‘ hand flies up immediately. He sends Isak a dirty look. “Isak, you too.”

“No.”

“Isak –“

“Come on, man,” Mahdi breaks in, nudging Isak’s knee with his foot. He has to stretch comically far to reach him, but even the sight of it isn’t enough to lift Isak’s mood. “It’ll just look weird if you don’t. As if we don’t know it already.”

Isak levels a glare at Mahdi instead, but he also sighs and raises his hand.

“There you go!” Magnus laughs, leaning forward to high-five him. Jonas barks out a laugh at the cross look on Isak’s face.

“What the hell am I walking in on?” Even laughs, holding a packet of chips in one hand, two chocolate bars under his elbows and balancing two cups of tea by their handles in his other hand. He’s grinning obnoxiously at Isak, waggling his eyebrows. “So much for not wanting to kiss me tonight, huh?”

“Fuck off,” Isak groans, but it’s ruined by a giggle he has to hide away in one of the sofa cushions once the teasing starts.

This is good, he thinks when the lights have been turned off, the opening credits rolling as they all get comfortable.

Magnus and Even are already complaining about the composition, Mahdi calls bullshit because they haven’t gotten past the movie companies’ logos yet. Isak leans his head down on Jonas’ shoulder who accommodates him easily, then presses his toes into Even’s thigh.

Even doesn’t even flinch, just curls his fingers around Isak’s ankle, squeezing him once before he pulls his feet fully onto his lap. He’s laughing at something Mahdi said, and even in the horrible lighting the TV provides he’s the most beautiful thing Isak has ever seen.

“You alright, man?” Jonas whispers when the opening title music starts.

Isak nods, lets himself finally breathe completely easy at once. “Yeah. Better than alright. I’m great. I’m really, really great.”

Jonas grins back at him. “That’s ‘great’,” he teases, but Isak knows he means it.

It really is, he silently agrees as Even’s thumb draws circles along his ankle joint. It’s better than, even. It’s just really, really great.

It’s dark, but Isak can still tell when Even smiles at him.

Isak grins back.

Past

Isak flunks every single one of his exams. He only finds out about it because he gets an email that tells him he needs to manually sign up for his second out of three attempts, it won’t be done automatically.

Whatever, Isak thinks, letting the roar of the crowd swallow him whole. He’ll just re-sit come February. It’s fine.

OOOOO

It’s less fine when Isak isn’t drunk anymore.

He’s stuck on the results page, sees the list documenting his failure, wouldn’t be able to look away even if he wanted to. His fingers itch to get a drink in them, but Isak just keeps sitting at his desk in front of his computer, staring at the screen.

This isn’t Isak.

Isak isn’t sure who he is anymore, hasn’t been for months now, but he does know that this isn’t him.

It’s not like Isak believes he’s only worth the number of his grade, but this – Isak isn’t stupid. He isn’t unable to understand the material he’s supposed to have spent the months between September and January learning. This isn’t him.

It would be easier to just get a drink. Much easier. That’s probably why Isak’s been doing it for so long, deflecting from everything and using it to hide away.

When Isak pushes himself away from the laptop, it’s not to grab his jacket that’s now definitely too thin for the weather and find a bar or a club somewhere. It’s to dig out his textbooks from underneath his bed where he’d put them right after purchasing them and hasn’t moved them since.

And when he sits back down again, he keeps the tab with his grades open, but he also opens Canvas so he can see the slides from the lectures and the assignments from the tutorials.

For the first time since starting at university, Isak cracks open his cell and molecular biology book and starts to read.

OOOOO

Isak’s got a headache the first time he attends a lecture when second term has started.

Not as earsplitting painful as the hangover-headaches had been, mind you, but it’s still there and he isn’t able to ignore it.

He knows quitting drinking cold turkey can be a bit of a dangerous approach, but Jonas’ eyebrows had been furrowed an uncomfortably large amount when he’d caught Isak sipping a beer at seven in the morning, so Isak had gotten out of bed this morning and headed to his lecture hall with a headache instead.

Turns out that lectures are a lot of fun when you don’t go there as a means to pass the time or when you’re hung-over as fuck. It’s a lot of fun, actually, and it’s so interesting Isak actually forgets to take any notes, he’s that captured by the professor.

He ends up spending an hour and a half on campus afterwards. He finds an unpopulated nook and scrambles with the keys to get down everything he remembers.

And then feels actually good about himself once he’s done. It’s a novel feeling, if Isak’s being honest. That would be a novelty as well, technically.

OOOOO

Isak’s honestly surprised that the light in his desk lamp hasn’t blown up yet from the sudden switch between having never been used to suddenly never getting a break.

He types up another definition, changing the format of certain words so they’re easier to spot when he scrolls through, then grabs his pencil to write it down on a flashcard.

Two knocks sound on his door.

“Hey,” Mahdi sticks his head in.

Isak immediately lowers his head, focusing on his scratchy handwriting instead. “Hey.”

“We’re going over to the Union,” Mahdi explains, nodding his head in the direction of the front door. “Want to join?”

Isak grimaces. It’s not that he doesn’t want to hang out with Jonas, Mahdi, and Magnus, it’s more that he doesn’t get why they would bother inviting him along. He pushed Mahdi, he’s constantly snapping at Magnus because of his complete inability to take a hint and shut up about Even whilst Isak is there, and Jonas is clearly frustrated with his behavior.

“Sorry,” he says, voice cracking. “I can’t.”

Mahdi nods, doesn’t look surprised, but he also doesn’t look relieved. Isak doesn’t know what any of it means. “It’d be cool if you came, though. When was the last time you took a break?”

Isak shrugs instead of replying. He can’t remember. He thinks he might’ve forgotten to eat dinner as well, now that he’s thinking about it, so going to the Union is definitely a ‘no’, then. He’ll fuck up everything if he drinks something on an empty stomach.

“It wasn’t a big deal, last time,” Mahdi sighs, “If that’s what you’re thinking about. Why you’re saying no. It’s fine.”

Isak winces. It really isn’t fine. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have done that, I’m not like that –“

Mahdi rolls his eyes. “We know that, Isak, otherwise we wouldn’t be putting this much fucking effort into getting you to go out with us again.”

Oh. Isak flushes a bit, hopes he just looks warm from the scorching light of his desk lamp. “I’m kind of on a roll right now, though. Maybe next time. And I promise I won’t get violent.”

Mahdi points faux-threateningly at him. “Next time, then, Valtersen. We won’t take no for an answer.”

OOOOO

The thing about alcohol that makes it so tempting isn’t the feeling of letting go of your inhibitions, or your sense of reality slipping away until you feel like the impossible is possible. It had provided him with a blissful numbness.

Isak isn’t numb anymore.

So it had been about wanting to not feel anything, and then it had been about how it made it easier to forget.

Or, not forget, because he never did that, not really, but it made it easier to not constantly think about it.

Now that he isn’t drinking anymore, he has to actively not think about it, but actively not thinking isn’t easy at all.

Studying only goes so far. Memorizing and focusing on the coursework helps, but only temporarily. It all – Even, papers, signatures, secrets, lying, the shame, and the guilt, and the loneliness – stays with him now that he doesn’t have a method to make it go away – even if it’s in the background, it’s still there.

And it weighs so heavily on Isak’s shoulders. It leaves him absolutely exhausted to keep up the charade, to make it seem like, no, nothing is the matter, everything is fine and like he actually has managed to get his life in order, when it really feels like he’s about to fall apart as easily as he did back in May when the fantasy world he’d lived in came crumbling down on top of him.

It all leads to sleepless nights and sleepless nights lead to Isak steadily going out of his mind.

Pent up emotions seem to be treading lightly the edge of keeping it in and bursting out of him, and Isak can’t let that happen, he can’t. Not only does he still not want anyone to know anything about him, not like that, but now if something were to slip out he wouldn’t have Even to fall back on. He’d be alone, and a lot more alone than he already is right now.

Isak fucking hates being alone.

But he also doesn’t have a clue how to actually do anything to fix it. Focusing on his studies clearly doesn’t work. Drinking had worked, but he can’t start that shit again, because that’ll lead to him spiraling so far down he’ll never climb back up again. Talking to someone about it is out of the question.

Which means he’s out of options. And getting more frantic which each passing day to just figure out something so he won’t accidentally spill over and ruin everything he’s built up so far.

“Are you okay?”

Surprisingly enough, it isn’t someone who asks Isak that, but Isak who asks Eva.

Her eyes are red and puffy, she’s obviously been crying, but now she’s apparently moved on from being sad to being angry.

She softens a bit when she sees Isak, though.

“Hey,” she mutters, shoulders slumping. “Jonas isn’t here?”

Isak shakes his head. “No, he’s on the grocery run this week, drew the short straw.” They have a rotational shift schedule, but Isak is just really good at getting out of doing his share of the workload. Instead, he repeats, “Are you okay?”

Eva shrugs, but her bottom lip is quivering. “It’s just Jonas being an asshole,” she explains, the anger suddenly coming back. “It’s not like I don’t know you guys smoke, okay? I don’t know why he insists on lying to me about it, because it just makes me feel like shit and paranoid – because if he’s lying about that, what else is he lying about, you know?”

Isak doesn’t know. They’d made it a point not to lie to each other, not when they were lying to everyone else.

Then again, Isak is here, by himself for the rest of his life, so what does he know. “Do you want me to yell at him when he comes back?” he offers.

Eva laughs a little snottily, but it’s real enough. “No. I had a good cry about it. That always helps, doesn’t it?”

Isak hasn’t cried since he packed up his stuff and whatever belongings of Even’s that he hadn’t been able to part with. Maybe that – maybe. Maybe it isn’t all too terrible an idea.

“Anyway,” Eva shrugs, seemingly calmer now that she’s gotten some of it out of her system. “I’ll just – talk to him later, I guess.” She leans in and gives Isak a hug. “Takk, Isak.”

“You’re welcome,” he mumbles, not paying attention because his head is stuck somewhere else.

In a shoebox-sized apartment in Oslo that two people had shared before one of them had gotten a better offer, to be precise.

Crying hadn’t fixed anything, hadn’t felt like the catharsis Eva had been talking about – it had just made him feel sweaty and disgusting and utterly pathetic, and had just about cemented the fact that Even wasn’t coming back, because why the fuck would he when this was what he’d be coming back to.

But Isak is desperate, and this is an option that Isak knows won’t be difficult to attempt, not with all these emotions swirling around inside of him, too close to flooding.

He just needs one thing, and that thing he’s got hidden away in his room, so he walks back inside, going directly over to draw the curtains.

Isak isn’t the one who left. He’s the one who fucked up and made Even stop loving him, yes, but he can’t keep going like this. He shouldn’t keep punishing himself over it; it’ll never stop if he continues like that.

He’s still pissed at Even, absolutely furious, but the hurt is the most prominent feeling now that he’s sober, and the gut-wrenching hurt is the emotion that wins out.

It takes a while, because Isak had shoved the box into the very back of his closet for a reason – that he never wanted to see any of that shit again, but now he does. He wants it, and it takes ages to dig through overdue laundry and random items he’d forgotten he still had.

And then the box is there, with a layer of dust accumulated where it hadn’t been covered.

They’ve been left untouched since Isak stashed them there, and he honestly can’t really remember packing them either, so he’s a bit startled when he opens them up and sees the absolute disarray that it’s in.

Most of the things he doesn’t even remember Even owning, and then there are a few camera lenses that have cracked from neglect – Isak doesn’t know why he grabbed them, doesn’t remember, but feels very stupid that he didn’t at least also grab the camera they go with.

Isak isn’t interested in the cameras or the lenses or the drawings. Right there, not at the very bottom, but far down enough that Isak had started to get worried that he hadn’t packed it, that he’d misremembered, that he’d left it behind for Even to have or throw out, is Even’s hoodie. The one Isak had practically stolen and never given back, and Even had let him because it was his favorite thing to see Isak in his clothes and he’d loved giving him long hugs so he could just enjoy the soft material as well.

It’s still soft, despite having been mistreated so badly for months now. The drawstrings have still retained the color of the paint. It doesn’t smell like Even, probably because Even hasn’t been near it for over a year, now. Doesn’t even smell of Isak, if he’s honest. Smells of dust more than anything.

But Isak doesn’t need to scent to feel like a freight train has run him over.

This is a moment where he’d resort to alcohol, but he can’t do that now, not like this, not over a stupid hoodie. He’s been doing better and he won’t let it be ruined by this fucking weakness of his.

So instead he scoots over on the floor until he reaches his laptop, opens Spotify and presses shuffle and play and turns it up louder than vibe-guy has ever played his music.

Next, he locks his door. And when that doesn’t feel like enough, he tries to push his desk in front of it.

Which turns out to be a complete fail because the desk has been nailed into the wall. So Isak pushes his bed instead and hides away in the corner it had stood in.

The opening of the song hasn’t even settled into the first chorus before the tears are streaming down his cheeks and breathing is ten times harder than it’s ever been.

It’s ugly, and Isak feels horrible all throughout it. His nose clogs up and he can’t see through his blurry vision. His speakers are blaring happy pop songs that Even would’ve loved – which just makes it worse – and he needs it to be loud enough that no one can hear him through the door or the walls, but that leaves him with a headache.

It doesn’t make it impossible to hear the intermittent pounding on the door when people desperately want for him to stop making all of that noise.

For all that Isak feels the positively worst he’s felt in a long time, he also isn’t ready for this to stop. Not yet.

The hoodie is crumbled up in his sweaty hands. There are spots darkening the material that Isak can tell come from his tears. And then another set of spots from his tears when it had gotten so intense Isak was certain people would be able to hear him over the music.

When the tears stop falling and his breath stops hitching and the headache from getting too little oxygen into his system has settled in, Isak wouldn’t say he feels better, per se, but he doesn’t feel as frazzled.

Still, this was the last time he’ll do this, he promises himself. He won’t spend any more time crying over an idiotic past. He’s done.

OOOOO

“Is that a new hoodie?”

“No. Just recently stumbled upon it whilst I was cleaning.”

“Cool.”

OOOOO

Isak does end up going out with them the next time. It’s a Friday evening, he’s just finished his first re-exam, and he doesn’t feel completely awful. It’s nice.

He’d had a beer with the boys before they left the house, and the mix of the warm, pleasant buzz inside of him and the not bitingly cold spring air not making it feel like his jacket is way too thin for this time of year leaves him in a good mood.

They head to the Union, because there’s a deal going on – like there isn’t always a deal going on in a place catering to poor university students – but it’s not like Isak is going to buy more than a beer, so what does he care where they end up.

He should’ve cared a bit more, he realizes once they’re in the midst of the crowd and barely able to hear each other speaking, and Magnus has slunk off to talk to some girl, Mahdi has just disappeared ,and Jonas has gone to the bathroom, leaving Isak all by himself.

Isak hasn’t gotten any better at being by himself, and being in a place like this isn’t helpful in the slightest.

Just because he had a proper cry about it doesn’t mean that Isak is okay. As much as he tries to fool himself into believing it, the hurt is buried so deeply inside of him Isak doubts he’ll ever really be okay.

And standing here surrounded by people who are happy and having fun when Isak has to work so hard just to feel one of those emotions, even harder without the aid of something extra, is way harder than allowing himself to have that cry had been.

He should leave. He’s about to find one of the guys – Mahdi or Jonas, because they’ll make the smallest scene when Isak tells them he’s getting out of there – when a hand clamps down on his shoulder.

“There you are,” Jonas says, dragging Isak backwards towards him and towards the exit. “It’s way too crowded in here, we’re bailing.”

Isak has grabbed his jacket and is waiting by the entrance before Magnus and Mahdi have had the chance to get their stuff ready. Magnus is wearing one of Mahdi’s shoes, apparently, which Isak isn’t sure how they managed to pull off.

It takes them five minutes of jumping around once they’ve gotten outside, Magnus wobbling on one foot because he doesn’t want to dirty his socks, before they manage to switch back around and get on their way.

“Fuck, she was so pretty, though,” Magnus complains, throwing his head back and groaning when he recalls just what the girl he’d been talking to had looked like.

The guilt churns in Isak’s stomach. He should’ve just told them he was heading out, that they didn’t need to come with him. It was obvious it hadn’t been too crowded for them. Just for Isak.

Mahdi huffs out a laugh. “I saw her, too. Trust me, you didn’t stand a chance. You should be thanking us for saving you from a fate of humiliation.”

“Hey!” Magnus protests halfheartedly, scuffing the tip of his shoe against the asphalt, then nearly tripping in the process.

Isak hadn’t seen the girl, and he does know of Magnus’ track record, but that isn’t the point that keeps the guilt swirling inside of him.

“Where are we off to?” he asks instead. He shoves his hands into his pockets, curling them up into fists as he waits for the answer.

Jonas shrugs. “What’s the rush for?”

Isak doesn’t reply. He hasn’t got an answer, doesn’t know how to tell them that he knows why they left and that he doesn’t get why they did that for him.

He expects for them to head into the bar close by that also caters to poor students, seeing as they’re headed towards it, but they pass right by it. And they pass by the next one. And the next one. The guilt makes Isak feel heavier and heavier with each step they take.

“Gutter!” Magnus points excitedly before bounding over to the walkway with an iron handrail. “This is fucking perfect.”

“What the hell are you on about?” Mahdi calls out after him.

“I need one of you, I’m having my Titanic-moment!”

“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” Jonas laughs, hiding his face behind his hands as his shoulders shake from laughter. “Get down, you idiot, you’ll fall off and end up in a coma!”

Magnus sticks his foot between two guards, stepping up. “Then come over here and hold me like one of your French girls!”

Paint, Isak doesn’t correct. Paint me like one of your French girls.

“He’s fucking insane,” Mahdi laughs. Isak tries not to flinch at the word.

“I’ll go,” Jonas volunteers, jogging over so he can climb up behind Magnus. He barely manages to stay up, though, from the giggling. “This is so gay.”

Magnus spreads his hands out when he’s sure Jonas has gotten a hold of himself. “I can’t hear you over how much I’m flying, Jack!”

“You’re an idiot,” Isak tells him once he and Mahdi get close enough. “You couldn’t have just done the I’m the king of the world instead?”

“Do you know what, Isak?” Magnus sasses. “It sounds like you’re jealous that I found myself a Jack and you haven’t.”

“I’m out,” Jonas laughs, jumping off the railing, giggling like mad when Mahdi has to dive forward to catch Magnus to keep him from actually braining himself into a coma.

“Idiots,” Isak complains, but he’s laughing as well. “Fucking idiots, all of you.”

They don’t go to another bar or a club or even to buy something to drink in the 24-hours open store that they pass. Isak doesn’t try and lie to himself as a reason why not, but the tiny spark of happiness it ignites is enough to quell down the guilt a little bit. That, and the fact that they end up making Magnus laugh so hard he has to sit down lest he starts to pee his pants.

Mahdi throws bird seeds at him, which none of them know where or when he got a hold of, but it just makes the situation worse. Or better, depending on if you see it from Magnus’ bladder control point of view or judge it by how easy it is for Isak to breathe.

OOOOO

Isak aces every single one of his exams. Both the ones he’d had to re-sit, and then the next ones.

He did it. He actually fucking did it.

He sits and stares at the results-page on his laptop, can’t stop looking at the row of perfect grades that aren’t supposed to define how good of a person Isak is, but right now the rows of numbers are the only tangible proof that Isak is actually getting better. That he might in fact be worth something.

He likes that feeling. He’s not going to let it slip away from him again, he’s going to fight to keep feeling like this.

Isak is going to get better. That’s a promise he makes himself that he intends on keeping.

OOOOO

“We’ve been looking into a couple of apartments.”

They’re leaving. He’s finally somewhat figured out how to do this, how to live without – how to live and how to make friends and they’re already leaving.

“Oh?” he asks nonchalantly, or he hopes it comes across nonchalantly and not absolutely terrified. “Found anything?”

Jonas nods, taking a sip of his beer. He sits down on the railing of the balcony they’re on. Isak can’t remember whose house they’re at – not because he’s had too much to drink to remember where he’s at, but because Magnus had been the one who knew about the party and his explanation of how he knew about was just too long for Isak to pay attention from start to finish.

He knows all about how this person’s mama used to have a goldfish collection when she was a kid, but he doesn’t know who actually owns the house. Figures.

“Yeah. A four bedroom, not too far from campus. A tram stop or two.”

“That’s cool,” Isak says, hopes it doesn’t sound as detached as he feels.

They’re leaving. They’re actually leaving. Isak should be used to people leaving him by now, but he isn’t. He really, really isn’t.

“Yeah,” Jonas agrees, but there’s something to the tone of his voice, something that forces Isak out of the protective bubble he’d already started to build up so he can look dubiously at him. “That fourth room isn’t the living room, by the way.”

Isak blinks.

Then he blinks again, still not saying anything. He can’t say anything, because if he gets it wrong he won’t be able to handle it.

Jonas rolls his eyes. “Christ, man, are you really going to make me say it?”

“Yes,” Isak doesn’t hesitate, because yes, he needs to hear it. Not for the reason that Jonas obviously thinks – that he’s teasing or self-centered and wants the confirmation that they’d be honored to share a living space with him, but because it doesn’t fit in his head why on earth they would want to share a living space with him.

“Isak,” Jonas starts. Isak barely hears it, his heart pounding too fast and beating too loudly. “Would you mind paying the rent until we can find a fourth roommate?”

“Asshole,” Isak knocks his knee against Jonas’ foot, but it comes out too soft, a little too out of breath for Jonas’ eyes not to soften and his teasing grin to smooth into something a little more sincere.

“Seriously,” Jonas ensures him. “Would you like to?”

Yes, Isak should say, because he does. Yes, yes, yes should be the only word coming out of his mouth.

“Why?” comes out instead.

If Jonas is surprised, he doesn’t show it. “You’re trying,” Jonas takes another a sip of his beer. “And we like you. We really like you, man.”

Isak tries to blink the tears out of his eyes.

“But if we’re doing this, you can’t fall back into your old ways.”

Isak feels cold despite the warm summer air. “I won’t.”

Jonas looks a bit dubious, but he just nods. “Do you want to do this, then?”

There are tears prickling in the corners of Isak’s eyes, and he just hopes he can blame the dry wind or the beer or something, anything, that isn’t something finally going Isak’s way.

“Yeah, bro,” he sounds choked up. “Yeah.”

Jonas grins and holds his hand out for Isak to shake. “Let’s do this then.”

And Isak’s smiling, actually smiling – full-on grinning and meaning it, and he’s moving in with Jonas, Mahdi, and Magnus and it all feels too good to be true.

He folds his hand into Jonas’, and Jonas tightens his grip so much Isak almost thinks they’re going in for that awkward bro-side-hug when all Jonas does is ensure Isak can’t draw back until he gets out the rushed, “And you have to be nicer to Magnus.”

Isak dramatically rips his hands out of Jonas’ hold and groans and whines and moans that none of it is worth it if that’s what it takes while Jonas cackles and nearly falls over the railing, and Isak’s nearly giggling so hard he can’t pull him back down.

Magnus and Mahdi find them lying in a heap on the balcony, giggling like fools.

Mahdi does look at Isak dubiously for a couple of seconds, like he’s expecting for him to be so out of it again despite the fact Isak hasn’t had anything harder than beer the last couple of months.

Whatever he’s looking for, Isak passes the test, and both Magnus and Mahdi grin as they fold themselves around him and Jonas. Magnus starts pointing up at the sky, telling stories about the signs, and both Isak and Mahdi call bullshit whilst Jonas tries to spin everything that comes out of Magnus’ mouth in a claim why the government is shit.

And Isak is moving in with these idiots.

He hasn’t been bad for months now, hasn’t done something he’d regret the next morning and hasn’t done something that would make him forget everything that had happened prior to waking up. He’s better than that, now he just needs to get better concerning everything else.

He can feel it; lying on a balcony at some house party he doesn’t know the hosts of, and he can just feel it. It feels like a turning point of some kind, like this is the moment things will actually start to get better, to get easier.

It’s not like all of his problems have suddenly disappeared. He still gets mornings where it doesn’t seem worth it to get up, still has moments where he just hurts so much he doesn’t remember how to breathe. And then there is the fact that the boys he’s decided are worth betting on don’t know that he’s not actually hooking up with girls left and right, don’t know he isn’t interested in girls at all. They don’t know why he got so bad in the first place.

But he’s moving in with these three idiots he’s ready to call his best friends, and he’s passed his exams with flying colors, and he’s signed up for his third semester, one year closer to getting his degree, and he can feel it.

This is going to be his year. Isak swears he’s going to do everything in his power to make it happen.

This is going to be his year.

Next part

#Evak #Evak fanfiction #SKAM #SKAM Norway #SKAM fanfiction #Dutten-does-the-fanfic #Something Great

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