#the whole point being this woman who was raised to be the perfect housewife is learning to stand on her own feet and use her own voice

[vidocqsociety]

idk i just think it's really weird that an entire fandom is writing an entire show off because the made-up main character who is shown to be alive and well in the mid-1980s isn't going to end up with the very real person who died in 1966

[crumblinggothicarchitecture]

Hello!! I love how much you dive into the whole anti taylor thing and make valid criticisms. Something that's bothered me a lot is the folklore love triangle and I never see anyone talking about it. She outright says Betty ends up with James even though James cheats on her. He tells her it meant nothing, that he was thinking about her even as he spent the summer with another girl. Even in her fictional world with fantasy characters, there's an element of cheating and being forgiven for it/not making a big deal of it. It makes me so uncomfortable. Is it just me? What are your thoughts on this?

Absolutely!  

I also find this "fictional love-triangle" that she created so uncomfortable. As a fan, I would more or less ignore her insistence that this was a coherent storyline because it so obviously is not. However, she seems to really believe she did something incredible with this arch- I disagree.  

There was a lot about her music that I straight up ignored while I was a fan- now I am ready to actually pay attention to it all and see it for what it is.  

She is clearly so interested in cheating... I just really think her moral compass is so skewed that she doesn't actually see why glorifying cheating is morally corrupt. 

But for the song "Betty" I agree with you completely- her main “moral to the story” for the song arch is that it's okay to cheat as long as they forgive you...  

It's especially concerning that the "Love-triangle" sees envisioning is happening in a high school setting. I just don't fully understand why this woman cannot write about anything other than high school aged people! They are literally Children!!!!! I'm so sick of relationship drama plotlines revolving around children in high school! (This is absolutely a broader problem in Media- it's not solely a weird thing that Swift does; however, it is still concerning that she seems to envy the youth while also only writing about the youth- it's getting weird.)  

Anyway, I think you raise a perfectly reasonable concern within her music. It glorifies cheating- which is diametrically opposed to her own insistence as the most moral pop-star. She thrives on the image of the clean-cut perfect suburban housewife, so it's a confusing contradiction to see her so fervently normalize something like cheating.  

One thing that concerns me too, is that in the "sequel" to "Betty" she writes "August" which is supposed to explain the other girl's backstory- which is that the other girl is like a pathetic fangirl who follows the guy around until they ended up sleeping together? It makes the guy seem like a morally corrupt ass who would manipulate people's feelings in order to sleep with them. I fail to see how any of us are supposed to be rooting for any of these characters? They're all a bit awful and immature- none of it is redeemable and, worse still,  Swift doesn't even give us a good "moral of the story."  

It's fine to depict negative aspects of reality like- people cheating on each other or being otherwise too immature for a relationship- especially if the characters are young, however it is up to the author to embed a message, a meaning, a moral into the mess. Without the moral of the story all we are left with is a self-indulgent rant.  

Especially in short story format. If I had to draw an analogy between the format of overarching, interconnected songs and a format in literature, I would pick the short story to draw a connection there.  

Okay, and here I’m going to break the point of this ask into two parts because if I do not it will become far too long – simply put you’ve inspired me to write, and I thank you for that.  

I thought you raised an excellent point so I went a little wild in my mind trying to pinpoint the exact reason why I found her attempt at narrative so uninspired, dull, and morally repugnant-  

[riversofmars]

Interrupting my usual broadcast of DW fic to bring you another British gay mess: Please enjoy my first attempt at Caroline/Gillian! And as if I haven't got enough WIPs on, this is gonna be four parts, as it turns out! I don't know why I'm like this :D Anyway here we are due to popular demand!

Gillian takes Caroline up on her offer of moving in together and pooling their resources. A month has gone by and Caroline is surprised at how easy and comfortable life on the farm has become. The arrangement works for both of them: Gillian's financial struggles are a thing of the past and while it isn’t exactly the traditional family set-up Caroline would have wanted, Gillian turned out to be exactly what she needed in a partner to help raise her daughter. Adding romance to the otherwise perfect set-up is a pipe-dream on the headteacher's part, but the more time she spends with the sheep farmer, the more drawn she is to her. Rating: M (language & sexual themes)

Home Is Not A Place - Part 1: The Dinner

“For goodness sake,“ Caroline groaned, as she stepped out of her SUV and right into a puddle. Resigned to her changed situation, she decided from now on she would have to switch shoes after work, from her favourite heels, to a lesser loved pair. There was no two ways about it. But at least then there would be absolutely no danger of ruining a two-hundred pound pair of Jimmy Choos, upon her arrival at Greenwood farm. Of course she wouldn’t mention this to Gillian, God no, otherwise her Christmas present to her might end up a new pair of wellingtons.

In the open court yard of the farm, the wind was biting cold and encouraged the headteacher to hurry up the stairs to the relative safety and comfort of the house. Caroline cursed under her breath as the wind wreaked havoc with her hair, and the cold crept up her legs, underneath her woefully-inappropriate-for-farm-life pencil skirt. The British weather was really giving its all this year to live up to its reputation. Well in the grip of Winter already, it only took Caroline to stay late at work by an hour - like today - and night had already fallen. Preparations for this year’s Nativity were gathering steam and - being the hands-on headmistress she was - there was no way Caroline would allow the theatre department to shoulder the burden all on their own. Working late would usually have required a lot of planning for a single parent such as herself, but things had gotten a lot easier, recently.

“Hiya Caz,“ Gillian called from the lounge, when Caroline closed the front door of the farm house behind her and smiled at the chipper greeting.

“Hiya!“ She called back and pushed her soaked shoes into a corner. With any luck, Gillian wouldn’t spot them and she could deal with them later. The sheep farmer would only get suspicious if she lingered in the hallway for too long. “Evening,“ Caroline smiled as she stepped into the living room. Flora and Calamity were sitting on the sofa in front of the tv, dressed in pyjamas. She walked over to them, pressing a kiss to her daughter’s head and then, for good measure, repeated the gesture on Calamity. The girls were the closest of friends and since Caroline and Flora had moved in at the farm, they had become closer still - almost like real siblings - and Caroline had found herself treating them as such with increasing frequency.

“Wet out, is it?“ Gillian smirked, observing Caroline’s dishevelled head of hair, drawing her attention. The sheep farmer was leaning against the kitchen counter, mug in hand, assessing her over the rim of it.

“What’s this?“ Caroline raised her eyebrows, as she spotted two - and only two! - places set at the kitchen table, complete with wine glasses.

“Girls have eaten. Just having a bit of telly before bed,“ Gillian explained, nodding towards the pre-schoolers that were engrossed in their cartoons. “Lasagne is in oven, thought you might be hungry, with your long day n’all.“

“You made lasagne?“ Caroline asked, though it sounded more bewildered than she had intended. It wasn’t uncommon that Gillian would cook for all of them. She was the one at home, her work was here, it made sense. Caroline was a woman of science, of hard facts, so she liked things to make sense. But for some reason, coming home to Gillian Greenwood - who had cooked for her and looked after her daughter - was still something of curiosity, despite empirical evidence to the contrary. Caroline was still not quite used to it, no matter how much sense it made.

Caroline had managed to convince Gillian of the sense behind them pooling their resources not long after she had floated the idea for the first time. Her and Flora moved in at the farm a month ago, and much to everyone’s surprise - and her mother’s dismay - it worked surprisingly well. This was not the first time she had come home to a cooked meal, it was becoming a regular occurrence, so Caroline was at a loss as to why this time, it felt different. Perhaps it was the absence of Raff and Ellie who - as Caroline now remembered - had been invited to Ellie’s mother’s to parade around the little one. Perhaps it was because there were only two places set at the table. Or perhaps it was the warmth of Gillian’s chuckled as she replied:

“Well, had to make something.“

“You really didn’t have to, I don’t… expect to come home to a home cooked meal every day,“ Caroline felt obliged to state, just for the record, though she knew that Gillian would do whatever the bloody hell she wanted anyway. It wasn’t like Caroline - or anyone else for that matter - had any bearing on what this infuriatingly independent and bull-headed woman did or didn’t do.

“Nice though, innit,“ the sheep farmer shot back with surprising enthusiasm. “Guess that was part of the deal. Least I can do, mind the kids and cook you some tea.“ She gave a shrug like it was nothing; when to Caroline, it was a huge deal. This wasn’t something she would have admitted to, of course; just as she wouldn’t have admitted that there was something very appealing about coming home to Gillian.

“I’m not expecting you to pretend to be my stay-at-home housewife or something, Gillian,“ Caroline tried to brush it off with a joke.

“You better not. Cause that’s not me,“ Gillian retorted with good-natured humour, and it struck Caroline that she was a far cry from the tense, short-fused woman she’d met seven years ago. It was moments such as these, that the headteacher realised how much she had changed. Healing would be too strong a word for it; Caroline couldn’t imagine how anyone could possibly heal from what Gillian had been through, but she seemed to be doing, better. She seemed more comfortable in her own skin, and more comfortable with her life. Secretly, Caroline hoped she had contributed to her wellbeing in some small way; even if it was just by giving her the security that she wouldn’t have to give up the farm.

“Don’t I know it,“ Caroline chuckled. “Wine, too, is it?“ She picked up the bottle on the table and checked the label. It was one of her favourites and for a moment, she wasn’t sure whether Gillian had remembered, or if they’d still had that bottle lying round somewhere. “Is there a special occasion? One month since we moved in?“ It wasn’t like she had been counting…well, she had. But only to be able to lord it over her mother about how long they had managed to stay under the same roof, without tearing each other’s heads off…or each other’s clothes…she added as an after thought. But only for her own amusement, not for public consumption.

“I guess I just…wanted to say thank you…for agreeing to this,“ Gillian huffed, suddenly appearing self-conscious, as if she wondered whether she had made a mistake. Caroline felt guilty immediately. For someone with self-esteem as fragile as Gillian, doubts came quickly, and cut deep.

“It was my idea! It’s to both of our advantage. I couldn’t have carried on the way it was, particularly now that our parents aren’t…able…to help as much as before…“ Caroline was quick to assure her. It had made a lot of sense, and she was glad she had managed to persuade Gillian of the proposal’s merit. Even once their parents had volunteered the money to pay for the work on the roof, it didn’t change the fact that Gillian was barely breaking even financially. Certainly not with the sheep that had escaped a few months ago, and once Raff and Ellie moved out - which was only a matter of time - they wouldn’t be contributing anymore, either. Gillian needed someone with her, and Caroline was more than happy to be that person, for numerous reasons. Some of them she cared to discuss, like the practicalities of it, some she would keep to herself, thank you very much.

“Just wanted to say, I do appreciate it, Caz,“ Gillian interrupted and held her hands up, as if she just had to get that out there - and would shut up now that it was said. “And I hope you’re not gonna regret it.“

“Gillian, we’ve known each other seven years now,“ Caroline couldn’t help but point out, as she set the bottle of wine back down on the table. “Yes, we’ve had our ups and downs, but all things considered, I think we’re about as steady as our parents, don’t you think?“ She gave her a soft smile. They really had come an incredibly far way since they first laid eyes on each other. To this day, Caroline was still embarrassed about her behaviour on the day they’s met, and was beyond relieved that with time, Gillian had come to see the funny side of the whole thing.

“Suppose so. Just without the sex,“ Gillian snickered and took a sip of her tea, hiding her grin in her mug as she seemed to relax again.

“I don’t want to think about our parents having sex, thank you very much!“ Caroline exclaimed, mortified, and quickly turned to check the girls hadn’t accidentally overheard. To her relief, she found them still very much engrossed in their tv show.

“God no. I don’t know if they still can, I mean, at their age…“ Gillian huffed, matter-of-factly. “And with his heart too, better mind his blood pressure hadn’t he… Mind you, probably wouldn’t be worst way t’go. Right in throes of…“

“Yes, right. That’s it, change of subject please!“ Caroline shook her head vehemently and Gillian laughed.

“Go and get changed, didn’t mean to ambush you, it’ll keep.“ She gestured to the oven. “I’ll get little ones in bed.“

“If you’re sure.“ Caroline glanced at the clock. She hadn’t realised how late it was. “How about bath time?“

“All this fun stuff you miss out on when you work late. It’s done and dusted. Go on. You don’t wanna be throwing lasagne down that fancy blouse o’ yours,“ Gillian observed, nodding towards her cream blouse.

“Right.“ Caroline gave a soft smile and watched the sheep farmer gulp down the rest of her tea, before sitting it down in the sink.

“You want me to make you a cuppa first?“ Gillian asked, seemingly confused as to why Caroline hadn’t taken her up on the offer yet, instead lingering in the kitchen.

“No, no, it’s fine, I’ll have wine if that’s going,“ Caroline answered quickly, snapping out of her moment of marvelling at how bloody perfect life was right about now to retrieve the corkscrew.

“Well, you know where everything is by now, don’t you. It’s your home too,“ Gillian observed, with an ease that astounded Caroline, that Gillian didn’t seem to think anything of. She just headed to the sofa where she put an arm around each of the girls from behind. “Right you two monsters, show’s over, off to bed wi’ you,“ she announced, leaving Caroline to forget all about the wine. She just watched the display of perfect family life in awe.

——

“Is it bad that I’m sort of looking forward to Raff and Ellie moving out?“ Caroline mused, watching Gillian’s reaction over the rim of her wine glass. “With the baby and everything, the walls aren’t exactly thick.“

“You knew that before moving in,“ Gillian pointed out. She wasn’t unkind about it, she was amused if nothing else.

“Yes, and I’m not complaining. I just didn’t think I’d be doing this still, at gone fifty, I mean…I’m just glad Flora is through the worst of it now.“ Even now, there were still times where Caroline wondered whether she was too old for all this. She had two grown up sons, starting again with Flora and doing it all on her own had been tough. Thankfully, finally, she wasn’t alone anymore. It wasn’t exactly the traditional family set-up she would have longed for, but she knew Gillian would be everything Flora needed in a second parent. She could also be everything Caroline needed in a partner, but that was just wishful thinking on the headteacher’s part. She would content herself with the way things were, as it was shaping up to be everything she wanted, just sadly minus the romance.

“Nowt saying William or Lawrence couldn’t have started early,“ Gillian retorted and Caroline laughed:

“William? Please!“ They were on their third glass of red and Caroline was feeling warm and relaxed. Her reactions had lost the restraint and reservedness she usually maintained with people, even the ones closest to her. “And Lawrence needs to seriously work out whatever he is doing with his life. And with Angus!“ She had often wondered about his relationship with his best friend. At this point, things could go either way.

“Fair. Not much of a chance of getting knocked up there,“ Gillian chuckled.

“Raff’s done alright though, hasn’t he. Becoming a dad so young and still seeing through his education and getting a good job at the end of it, it’s quite the accomplishment,“ Caroline smiled and delighted in the way Gillian’s face brightened with pride.

“He’s a good boy, our Raff,“ she commented, and Caroline was determined to push the matter over the finish line:

“That’s a credit to you. He couldn’t have done it without your support,“ she added kindly, as she put her cutlery down. Dinner had been a delight, but then by this point, Gillian could have probably fed her anything and she would have thanked her with a dreamy eyed smile. Caroline felt the warmth radiating from her cheeks; a combination of wine, the fire going in the adjoining room, and her own conflicted feelings towards her step sister. For the sake of her own sanity, she refused to refer to her as that whenever possible, particularly in her own head.

“More like in spite of me,“ Gillian huffed, her mood swinging like a pendulum. She had been much more steady in recent years, but that wasn’t to say she was free of the crippling self-doubt that always chose the most inopportune moments to rear its ugly head. “Never would’ve happened wi’ someone else. Not like your boys went and knocked up their girlfriend, is it.“

“Don’t be ridiculous,“ Caroline cut in quickly, but Gillian just downed the rest of her wine and carried on:

“You know it’s true, ‘as bad as his mother’ is what they were saying, and if they weren’t, they were thinking it.“ She gave a bitter laugh that stood in stark contrast to the carefree atmosphere they had enjoyed.

“You have many flaws, Gillian, it’s part of your charm, but being a bad mother? That’s certainly not one of them.“ Caroline was quick and decisive, in intervening. There had been times where she had been quite happy to shoot a snide comment her way herself, but not anymore.

“Hm.“ Gillian’s response was minimal, which indicated to Caroline that she hadn’t listened or taken in what she’d said.

“It’s not!“ She insisted firmly.

“Alright!“ Gillian exclaimed, exasperated.

“Do you think I’d have come here, to live with you, having you help look after my daughter, if I didn’t think you were a good mother and a good person?“ Caroline leaned forward onto her elbows, regarding the farmer with a stern look that she had perfected in many years of teaching.

“’suppose not.“ Gillian folded, just as one of Caroline’s six-formers would have done.

“Well then.“ The headteacher straightened herself up again and proceeded to divide the rest of the bottle in between their two glasses.

“Their faces. When you told them.“ Gillian suddenly burst out laughing and Caroline grinned, recalling the conversation in vivid detail. The pendulum that was Gillian’s emotional well-being, had swung back around.

“Of all the stupid, stupid videos Lawrence has done… that would have been the moment to capture,“ she shook her head to herself, remembering how comical and surreal the whole thing had been.

“It was your Mum more than me Dad, that face she pulled!“ Gillian couldn’t stop laughing; it was infectious and prompted Caroline to launch into a scarily accurate imitation of her mother:

“Caroline, you can’t really be considering moving to a farm, and HER farm of all places. Is that any way for Flora to grow up? What if she…catches something or…“ Caroline could hardly breathe for laughing. “Honestly Mum, what is she gonna catch? Fresh air?“

“Touch of the common farmer, more like,“ Gillian grimaced, but she didn’t seem to care, not really.

“Like she’s never stayed here herself.“ Caroline rolled her eyes at the hypocrisy.

“I think she was more concerned with me, than the farm,“ Gillian pointed out, taking a deep breath to calm herself down - but her face continued cracking up and gave her away.

“Well obviously.“ Caroline just waved it off. They were both used to her mother’s strong opinions, and readily chose to ignore them.

“What will you be doing with Gillian around all the time?“ Gillian tried herself at Celia’s accent which caused Caroline to launch into another laughing fit.

“I don’t know, Mum, maybe we will have a wild sapphic love affair,“ she reprised her witty response with tears of laughter in her eyes.

“You nearly gave her a heart attack an’all,“ Gillian snickered.

“Well, it’s none of her business.“ Caroline took a deep breath, regaining some small measure of self control. “And really, she only has herself to blame. If she hadn’t been on at your Dad about lending you that money, and then telling me they wouldn’t be picking up Flora anymore, none of this would have happened.“

“So really, we should be thanking her, shouldn’t we.“ Gillian grinned after brief contemplation. “To your mother.“ She raised her glass and Caroline toasted her:

“I’ll drink to that.“

The evening wore on, and just as they contemplated opening a third bottle, Raff and Ellie returned with the baby, who was sleeping soundly in his car seat. Thank God for small favours, Caroline thought. They had cleared up from dinner and were lounging on the sofa with the telly on.

“Mum. Caz. Alright?“ Raff greeted them.

“Had a good evening?“ Gillian asked, looking around.

“Yeah great thanks,“ Ellie smiled in response and made her way up the stairs with the little one.

“You watching University Challenge, Mum?“ Raff asked, bemused, as he noticed the program they were watching.

“Through no fault of my own!“ Gillian was quick to point out. She shot Caroline a look who was sitting to the other end of the sofa.

Caroline considered it a safe distance, but not as safe as the other sofa would have been. It was one small thing she allowed herself. It was innocent enough, and Gillian didn’t seem to think twice when their legs intertwined on the two-seater.

The sheep farmer carried on explaining their television agreement to her son: “We compromise, see, she gets to watch something she wants and then I get to watch something I want.“

“Trust her to chose the most obnoxious thing she can possibly find, just to wind me up,“ Caroline interjected but without averting her eyes from the screen. She mumbled the answer to yet another obscure question under her breath.

“Sounds about right,“ Raff chuckled and Gillian leaned over the back of the sofa to slap her son’s arm.

“Remember, it’s a school night,“ she pointed her finger at him.

“Bit rich coming from you.“ He eyed their empty wine glasses. “I feel like the alcohol consume in this house has sky rocketed in the past month.“

“Yeah, well, got to knock ourselves out somehow between the baby crying and you two going at it,“ Gillian quipped, and returned her attention to the television as well.

“You’re just jealous cause you haven’t go a fella right now,“ Raff teased.

“Yeah well, I’m over that for the time being,“ Gillian gave a dismissive wave of her hand.

“Think you’ve finally gone through all the eligible bachelors in West Yorkshire?“ Caroline saw an opportunity to jump in and tried her best to keep the smallest twang of jealousy from her voice.

“And some of the ineligible ones too,“ Raff added, with a smirk.

“OI!“ Gillian exclaimed, shooting him a glare and kicked Caroline’s leg for siding with him.

“I’d better see if Ellie needs some help…“ Raff was quick to make his escape.

“Yeah, you’d better,“ his mother shouted after him.

“I have to say, you have come a long way since we met. From having three blokes you’re shagging staying over in this place,“ Caroline couldn’t help but comment, recalling the fateful night their parents had gone missing and they had stayed at the farm with Gillian’s three merry men - Paul, John and Robbie - all crammed onto these sofas.

“Bet you wouldn’t have come to stay then, would’ya,“ Gillian hummed, her voice surprisingly neutral.

“Could have joined that exclusive club,“ Caroline smirked, the alcohol loosening her tongue enough to make a joke, one too close to the truth for comfort. She forced herself not to think about what else she could be doing with her tongue right about now.

“Caz!“ Gillian exclaimed, and the headteacher couldn’t quite tell whether she was offended, self-conscious or flattered.

“It really is easy to tease you,“ Caroline back-peddled to safer waters.

“Yeah well, you’re living with Yorkshire’s greatest slapper so jokes on you,“ Gillian huffed. “Watch your f-bloody University Challenge.“

“Hm, yes, what will people think,“ Caroline chuckled and did as she was told.

[colorfulbard]

Showtime

Summary: Housewives in a small town truly have nothing else better to do.

Pairing: Lifeguard!Eren x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Small themes of NSFW

Words: 1.6K

A/N: I saw an ask that I think was from @sleepysnk blog and I couldn't help myself. This one-shot was based on this video. Sorry in advance to her for not asking permission, but I really wanted to write this. I hope you like it!

~~~~~

Summer was a time for new beginnings in a young kid's life. School was out which meant three whole months full of time to make self-improvements. Or to just goof off with friends. During this time of experiencing the blazing sun, the first thing to come to any kid's mind is to be the first to hit the pool.

Not that it mattered who came first. In the small town of Shiganshina, eventually, the community pool would be full of family's trying to cool off from the summer heat. Whether some of the families were there by choice didn't fully matter. Mothers from all over town were dragged by their children regardless of what errands needed to be done.

In the past five summers, that's how it was. Mothers had no reason to come to the pool by choice ever since their eye-candy had left to college out of state. This summer, however, the housewives in-town were less reluctant to the idea of a day at the pool. As kids ran around the pool, ignoring the lifeguard's whistle, and whacked each other with pool noodles. Housewives found other ways to enjoy their time under the hot sun.

Amongst the loud splashing and laughter, a familiar ringtone chimed. This particular ringtone, however, was only familiar to every housewife that had been to the pool since the beginning of summer. The phone the ring was coming from lit up, an alarm displayed on the screen labeled as 'showtime'.

Practically every woman who had been to the pool since summer began had a Pavlovian response when that alarm rang. They all immediately sat up in their chairs, grabbed mirrors to fix their makeup or hair, and relaxed back into whatever sexy stance they could think of.

Out of all the women who waited for the show to start. None of them were nearly as excited as Debbie, whose phone alarm was still ringing. There wasn't much a housewife in Shiganshina had to look forward to. Especially during the summer.

Debbie truly detested summer with a passion as fiery as the sun. School was no more which meant her alone time was over. Three kids were now constantly on her ass with her husband either at work or napping.

She almost bristled at the mere thought of having to deal with them later in the afternoon but maintained her composure. She couldn't afford a single hair out of place. It'd taken her two hours to perfect the look she was going for. The amount of effort couldn't go to waste. Not when she had to compete with seven other housewives for his attention.

"Look alive, ladies," proclaimed Debbie as she readjusted her boobs and put down her sunglasses. "The show is about to begin." She smirked as the current lifeguard began to step down from her tower to switch.

Debbie felt time slow down at the sight of a door opening at the other end of a pool. She was sure the other housewives were feeling it too as they all began to tense in anticipation. If any of their kids were drowning at the moment, none of them would notice. It's not like it mattered considering Mikasa was still watching anyway.

Even if one of them did drown, it wouldn't hurt to watch them being saved by the notorious Eren Yeager. He was the one that currently had every housewife on the edge of their seat. The man was an Adonis in the eyes of every housewife in Shiganshina. The absolute perfect man of their dreams.

When that door fully opened, they all felt the air leave their lungs. His silky brown hair was tied back into a bun with the right amount of fringe framing his face. Abs chiseled to perfection glistened in the sunlight. To top it all of, with a flick of a wrist, he took off his sunglasses to reveal the most gorgeous eyes that suck any woman in.

Debbie could go on and on about Eren. She even bit her lip at the thought of them, together. Having invited him over for dinner as thank you for saving one of her kids from drowning. They would be all alone after she forced the kids into bed early. Her husband would be working late, so, who knows? Anything could happen.

None of the housewives' eyes left him for even a second as he walked to relieve Mikasa of her shift. Some could barely manage to remain composed as he offered a nod and greeted them with a "ladies".

Debbie put on her best sexy pout the moment his eyes were on her. She waited for the inevitable nod and compliment on her new sunglasses only to receive a nod. No compliment.

Her eyes widened and she cast a glance at the other wives. It seems they were suffering from the same thing. It was like that ever since he came back from college out of state.

Debbie's perplexed expression turned to a sneer when she remembered why. Turns out after coming back home to visit his mother, a college education wasn't the only thing he came back home with.

"Eren!"

Speak of the devil and they shall appear. Debbie scoffed under her breath at the sight. You weren't much of a looker in her opinion. Everything about you screamed basic in Debbie's eyes. From your hair to your outfit. But that didn't stop Eren's eyes from lighting up whenever he saw you.

~

You had to be honest, at first, summer in the small town of Shiganshina was boring. The only reason why you were even here was due to Eren's insistent begging. That boredom lasted until he mentioned he had gotten a side job as a lifeguard. The same job he had the summer before he left college. He had mentioned it to you before in passing, but you'd never forget the stories Armin told you of all those housewives who drooled at the sight of him.

The moment the job began you gave him time to settle before you came to ruin it all. The time you spent waiting was worth it. Every housewives' eyes were on you as you confidently strode up to Eren on his lifeguard chair and asked for a kiss. Their faces were to die for, you wished you'd taken a picture. Especially Debbie's.

You knew for a fact she hated your guts. It wasn't like she tried to hide it anyway. She glared at you every chance she got. Which is why you were at the pool visiting Eren again today. You giggled as you glanced back at her while leaning against Eren's lifeguard chair.

"What are you laughing at?"

You looked up to the object of your affections and shook your head. "Nothing," you said innocently while rubbing his knee.

Eren rose a brow, not believing your tone for a second, and followed your previous line of sight. He rolled his eyes when he spotted Debbie waving at him just moments after she finished glaring at you. "Do you have to cause trouble with every housewife you meet?" He teased, shoving your hand away.

You placed a hand on your chest and gasped in mock disbelief. "Me? Cause trouble?" You asked rhetorically, "I would never." You crossed your arms and frowned.

Eren leaned back in his chair, "yeah, okay," he said sarcastically with a scoff.

You scoffed back at him and smacked his thigh, "okay, come on. You have to admit it's pretty funny." You barely held in a laugh at the sight of a whole row of housewives glaring daggers at you.

"Not gonna be funny when they finally poison you," Eren joked while stroking his abused thigh.

You gave him an incredulous look. "Yeah, because I'm dying to eat Debbie's casserole," you said sarcastically. Those housewives had been sending casserole after casserole to Carla's house ever since he came home. You hadn't bothered to eat a single bite of any of them. Neither had Carla.

Eren gave a small wave to Debbie, who was still watching the two of you. "What's with you and Mrs. Carter anyway?" He asked with a raised brow.

"More like what's with Debbie," you corrected, "she's hated me since she figured out I'm your girlfriend."

Eren smirked and leaned back in his chair with his arms behind his head. "Can't blame her, I am a catch." He winked down at you.

You rolled your eyes, "whatever you say, Casanova." You stepped away from the chair. "I'm gonna get going, don't wanna keep distracting you considering they're not gonna save their kids anyway." You gestured to the housewives who had their eyes glued on Eren.

He rose a brow but soon nodded after glancing at the housewives. "You have a point, get outta here." He leaned down to swat your ass.

You punched his leg in response. "Oi, watch your hands, Yeager!" You scolded.

"You know I can't control myself." He smirked and tried to rest his hands on your waist.

You hummed and laughed to yourself. Eren rose a brow at your laugh but said nothing as you stood on your tiptoes to grab him by his whistle. He was frozen as he waited for your next move and spellbound the same way those housewives were with him.

The tips of his ears were hot, you could feel it on your lips as they gently grazed his ear. "Let's hope you'll be able to control yourself until after your shift." You gave his ear a small kiss before pulling away and quickly walking away before he could recover.

You gave him one last look over your shoulder and giggled at the sight of his flushed cheeks. You also gave Debbie a passing glance and waved at her. "Hot day isn't it, Mrs. Carter?" You asked.

You didn't miss the way she attempted to murder you with one look. "Immensely," she said through gritted teeth.

Yeah, summer was a fun time.

[honeysorwell]

(a very unprofessional) game changer

Pairing: Audrey Tidall x fem!Reader x Diane Sherman

Summary: Audrey Tidall ends up conquering the role of the protagonist in the expected film that marks the great director and screenwriter Diane Sherman return to the film market, Run, that the blonde one desired really much. The filmmaker has only managed to return now since she left her job almost twenty years ago to take care of her daughter. She has no real plans other than finishing the film that will mark her return, but her nonpeaceful coexistence with Audrey during the filming, along with the loneliness that consumes her personal life ends up instigating an unexpected affection - and that grows every day - for Y/N, the costume designer for Run.

What Diane did not expect, when giving Y/N anonymously flowers during the recording months, is that the costume designer has been in a secret relationship for more than months with Audrey. However, the feeling of indifference and disdain that the director feels for the actress gradually dies after a heated argument between the two, leaving an unnamed tension in the air, while Y/N searches for her secret admirer with her girlfriend.

[gif by @sapphiclesbian​ ]

[gif by @cherry-jimin] 

A/N: I was extremely surprised when I posted You rush into my life, stay a little while (I know that we can have it all), and in less than a month I got +50likes (after all I barely know how to use tumblr and I discovered these days how and where to look at the followers that I have lol). And thanks to that, I will use (a very unprofessional) game changer as a social experiment, to see if you guys really like what I write, and if the answer is also positive, I will open requests to write things in my free time. And yes, my first language is not English so maybe something might sound strange.

I had this idea as soon as Run was released, thanks to Diane's passion for films... And since Audrey is an actress, I thought it would be good to combine these two...

I can say that this is a big AU because Diane is a lovely mother, and no one from Roanoke dies (because I don't have time to develop any of this shit).

Hope you all like it!

Synopsis of the story + Chapter 1 ,  Chapter 2 , Chapter 3 , Chapter 4 , Chapter 5 , Chapter 6 , Chapter 7 , Chapter 8 , Chapter 9 , Chapter 10 (final one)

Chapter 1

Chapter’s summary: Audrey and Y/N get to know each other thanks to Diane, and even though they are about to start recording Run, they decide that it is worthwhile to continue with their relationship. Even if secretly.

Warnings: In this chapter at least, none. Just implicit mentions of smut, it's not really something!  

Word Count: 1,2k

In theory, when someone wins an award as important as The Saturn, their career between movies becomes more likely to invitations to productions. Films, miniseries, or even theatrical productions. But that didn't happen with Audrey.

There was a voice in her head that said it was thanks to her age. But since none of the actors in Roanoke's cast, especially women, were so different in this aspect, Audrey continued to ignore that voice.

Everything was relatively ready for the British woman to participate in Return to Roanoke: Three Days in Hell, however after her breakup with Rory, the blonde one preferred to focus on something new. She quickly fell in love with him, but when the red-haired man asked about marriage, everything was clear to Audrey. Their paths and thoughts were so different, even with the significant feeling between them, that it was better to break their love relationship before their friendship was affected. And this was what she did.

It was audacious. Refuse a proposal for the same program that gave her fame and awards, to audition for a new film that she barely knew would happen. Some people would call her crazy, but the email she received from her agent was enough to give her courage.

Or rather, four words from that email. Directed by Diane Sherman was what caught her attention and prompted her to try to venture out to take the test.

She can still remember. Years ago, while she was still fighting for a minor role in any theatrical production in England, Diane Sherman was already acclaimed worldwide for the grandiose films with unexpected endings that she produced, even at a young age.

All the films of the woman with a reddish tone between her brunette hair strands became hits. But in the midst of it all, Diane decided to take a break from her career, and less than five months later, a pregnancy was announced.

After that, twenty years passed and no film was released, no interview, no magazine cover. Such a gloriously famous woman disappeared from everyone's view with her baby. But only up to now.

That test was probably the one that tired Audrey the most in her entire career. To portray in a few minutes the pain of the life of a woman who is obsessed with her daughter to the point of making her sick was difficult. But she did, and so, while her former co-stars were locking themselves up in a seemingly haunted mansion, she was getting a call from her agent saying that she got the lead role.

Everything worked well when the blonde received her script and started working with Diane on how they would like this character to be seen by the audience, but as the conversations flowed, Audrey understood why all of the woman's films were such a success. She was a perfectionist and her authority was clear.

Everything needed to be perfect. Including the costume.

And so Audrey met Y/N. A beautiful costume designer with so much talent to spare to the world.

The first time they saw each other, Diane was not present, after all, it was just a date to take Audrey's body measurements. As the story was about a housewife, movable and comfortable clothes had to be designed, which did not force Audrey to strip naked to have her measurements known by Y/N, even if an unprofessional part of her wanted to.

Quick encounters followed, some with Diane briefly present, just to define new color palettes or to approve and disapprove something. The director never stayed more than twenty minutes with the two women, but thanks to Y/N's perseverance, in producing everything exactly as Diane wished, and Audrey's free time, due to her mind being ease in memorizing lines and just a few friendships outside England, the two woman became relatively close.

When the costumes were all designed and in the final process of being made, Diane decided that she would like Audrey's hair to be longer. Some wig tests took place, but a joint decision was made.

The film would be postponed in five months from there, so that the blonde's hair would grow.

It was frustrating, to say the least, and maybe that was the trigger for Audrey's disapproval with Diane, but one thing was good. The time now acquired has started to be spent on Y/N.

Always at discreet lunches or afternoon teas in their homes...

Y/N thinks it might be extremely inappropriate and absolutely unprofessional to get personally involved with a co-worker, even outside the set, and even though their work on Diane's film was relatively distant. But, after many glasses of wine and random conversations, nothing made more sense to Y/N than Audrey's lips against hers.

A one-night stand. That was what they thought they were born to be. But the skin on Audrey's stomach was so smooth that Y/N didn't know if she wanted to kiss her until she moaned or laughed, confused as she tried to understand which one of the sounds was the actual responsible for her heart beating faster.

A one-night stand. Because Audrey didn't feel ready to start a relationship after such a recent breakup. But there was nothing more beautiful than Y/N's face full of pleasure while she was being touched, or her face concentrated on redoing a crooked seam, even if she was the only one that noticed the defect in the piece.

A one-night stand. That turned into two, three, ten, thirty... and when they noticed, Audrey's hair was long enough for the film to start recording and their mind was unconsciously bought each other's favorite foods at the supermarket.

And on one of those nights, when they were both lying on Y/N's bed and Audrey was drawing imaginary flowers on the bare skin of her right hip, a whisper escaped the actresses lips:

"I don't want this to end because we are going to work together... Does that make me unprofessional?", The moment the question escapes her lips, she raises her face towards Y/N and looks deeply into her eyes.

"Well ...", the costume designer starts and stops, distracted by the beauty of Audrey's brown eyes and a lock of her hair - now longer - that is hindering the Y/N view of the blonde's cheeks, but that soon puts the hair strands behind her ear and continues - "Count me in because I don't want this to end either..."

It is a smile so beautiful that it takes hold of Audrey's lips, that the courage to take possession of Y / N's body and one more phrase escapes her lips.

"I think I'm in love with you."

The word think sounds so low, it's like it's not even there. Because Y/N's mind knows that she is sure, even scared and that is why Y/N's eyes focus on the whole room, except the face in front of her. Until delicate fingers touch her chin and direct her to see brown eyes bathed in tears, amid the same glorious smile of seconds ago.

"And I don't know how you didn't notice that I fell in love with you too."

And so they come to an agreement. Nothing will be explicit while they are on set. At work, they will be just friends, close friends if the distance wraps their stomachs, but still, just friends.

For the sake of their reputations, their jobs, and the Diane Sherman film they will be just friends.

[horrorslashergirl]

Kinda want a part two of Chromeskull with the tattoo artist!reader. Maybe with her divorcing her husband, starting a relationship with Jesse and getting the tattoo he suggested.

Chromeskull x Tattoo Artist!Reader- Guilty Pleasures Part 2

Authors Note: You asked and you recieved. Part two of this taboo guilty relationship. You simply cannot say no, no to this man.

Part 1 HERE

Warnings: None I can think of.

Words: 1.4k

Were you feeling guilty? Probably. Did you care? Most likely not. Looking into the mirror of your bathroom after a night of stressful sleep and at this very moment, you were glad your husband left earlier for work, not in the mood to put up with anything.

To say that the affair you had with your boss was eating at your mind was a faint understatement because sickly, you enjoyed it a lot and in a more twisted way, you wanted more.

The past week has been a hazardous adventure you weren't looking forward to having, not one bit, especially after your parents-in-law came unannounced, a particular reason you hated them, but at first, you thought that's what everyone feels about their own parents-in-law.

Your husband's father wasn't a problem, surprisingly you didn't mind him, he never criticized you, only talked about the old days and he was as calm as a beach in the winter can be. The problem was your mother-in-law and sometimes you wondered if jail was worth it to get rid of the old hag.

She always spoke well of her son and gave you unwanted advice about how a wife should be. To put it bluntly, she wanted you to be the perfect housewife which in your opinion wasn't a good attribute in your book, but you meant well. You learned to cook better for the sake of this marriage, learned to control your rebellious attitude, which was quite the challenge, but she demanded more and more out of you.

The topic came this week when she came unannounced and she asked when you and her son were going to have a baby. You almost choked on your drink and the answer that your husband gave, made you more anxious.

'Soon.'

Alright, you loved children and the idea of being a mother was a plan in the future, but not with him.

That's why you were looking like a corpse at this moment; ever since that discussion your husband opened the topic of having children with each day, and your answer always was the same.

'In the close future.'

You wanted to escape so badly, but being a divorced woman in society wasn't exactly a big plus and you knew that if it would happen you would be seen as the villain and everyone will probably tag you with words that would drown your self-esteem.

Staying in an unhappy marriage for the sake of society. How marvelous!

You grimaced, staying outside on the front porch of your house, taking a deep drag of smoke and exhaling like the nicotine will ease your nerves. It was another late night full of arguments and whatnot with your husband; he seemed to find flaws in each step you took. When the door opened your gaze moved to your husband who had a very serious expression, his arms crossed and you knew he was going to say something.

"I want a divorce." he simply stated, making you raise your eyebrows in surprise. Well, you clearly didn't see that one coming.

After you finished your cigarette and got inside, he told you that there was no point in maintaining this marriage and according to him you were embarrassing him, destroying his image.

Pffff...What image? What reputation?

To say that the divorce went simply was an understatement. You didn't have too much to take from this marriage, the house was his, the car too, you just had your little belongings and that was it. He was just surprised that you didn't want to undress him of money or any winning.

The ultimate prize of this divorce was that you will be finally free; no more critiques, no more useless arguments over the smallest things in life.

You were back at work at one of Jesse's warehouses, inking up one of his henchmen, when the door opened and the tall and imposing form of your boss was blocking the door. The guy you were tattooing quickly got up and left the two of you alone; smart guy.

'I'd heard about your divorce.' the electronic voice spoke and you internally groaned.

"The rumors are really floating here quickly, huh?" you asked, not really surprised. Jesse had a habit of knowing every small detail of his employees.

'You're finally free.' he stated, a sentence that the intentions were clearly; reminding you that this is what you bragged about wanting before you two went at it like rabbits.

"Yes, but I don't feel like it."

'How come?'

"Well, his family hates my guts, all of our friends took his part and pretty much labeled me as a 'whore'....I don't know...How would you feel?" you asked, arms crossed and eyebrow raised, your mood clearly not a good one.

'I'm a widower.'

Ouch, that hit a nerve and he was right. He lost much more than you, not to mention being just inches from dying.

"Sorry. I'm just....I didn't know how hard a divorce can fuck up one's self-esteem." you said, sitting down and running a hand through your hair.

One brown eye looked curiously at you, then he closed the door, stepping towards you, his huge hand cupping your cheek, making you look at him.

'Do I have to remind you how beautiful and amazing you are?' 

You knew he was just trying to cheer you up, pull you up from the shreds and ashes your now ex-husband created, but why? Jesse wasn't being nice without a reason, you weren't one of these guidable piggies he either fucked or killed or both. The man was the vainest person you knew, even with his face the result it is today, he could pull off the drop-dead charming casanova attitude with ease.

"You don't have to lose your time trying to cheer me up." you muttered, only for your nose to be caught between two of his fingers, making you squeak a little, making him smirk, fingers typing on the phone.

'What if I want to spend all the time with you, dollface?'

Alright, that was new. He never showed interest in you, and that affair you had with him was something that you would classify it was accidental and desperate, something you didn't want to happen again....But you're divorced now, right? Single, free and to do as you please.

"Don't say things you don't mean.....plus this is..." you didn't know exactly what to say.

'Wrong?' he signed, looking at you with amusement.

'Correct me if I'm wrong, but....when you were married you didn't found it wrong to jump my dick.' he typed on the phone, a smug look on his scarred face at the expression you made when you read his response.

"I-I didn't-" you quickly said, only to be stopped, when he spun you around, pinning you against the cold wall of the room, a silent snarl pulling at his lips, giving you a glimpse of the predator that he truly was inside.

'Pleeeeease...Don't act like such a prude.' he types on the phone with one hand, the other slowly running up your waist, dragging your shirt up, exposing more skin with each inch his hand was running up.

You were left speechless; no wonder all these piggies were falling on their knees for him, he wasn't one to be denied, to be said 'no' to.

"You're my boss!" you said, feeling your cheeks heat up at his obscene suggestions.

He snorted in your response, rolling his brown eye.

'You're one to bring up moralities now? You cheated on your husband with your boss...and you liked it.' he typed, his body moving to be flush against yours, feeling how excited he was, not like you were any different down with how moist your panties got from all the sexual tension.

'You're just as fucked up as I am...Not that I mind one bit.' he typed, another flash of pearly white pulled into an arrogant grin.

"P-Please..." you didn't know what you begged for.

Were you begging for him to stop this charade or were you begging for him to finish this nonsense?

'You were mine from the moment you spread your legs for me.'

Oh God, this was so humiliating.

Your eyes were wide open, looking up at him, both breaths heavy, then the lips came crashing together into a needy and passionate kiss.

It was true, you were his....The moment you took up on his advice and inked your whole arm into the tattoo he suggested.

Skulls and Roses.

[regrettablewritings]

Animatic/Storyboard Music

Got bored/procrastinate-y on coloring in this ultra intricate card for my mom. So I’m just gonna make a list of songs I think make for good animatic material. Because why not/I wanna foist my musical tastes on people/ @locke-writes got me in a music binge. For the most part, it’s just gonna be me explaining the meanings or the vibe or what they generally tend to be used for, but really it’s mostly subjective so imaginate whatchu wanna.

“Trust Me” - The Devil’s Carnival Originally depicting a story about the Scorpion and the Frog, it’s the perfect song for when you want to depict the dynamic between a gullible or at the very least more grounded character and a figure whose intentions . . . may be less than pure. Or good for anyone, really.

“The Dismemberment Song” - The Blue Kid I have a playlist dedicated to songs whose content and sound are just . . . not married to one another, but got a weird flirtationship situation going on. Anyway, I’ve seen people say that they like to imagine it’s sung through the POV of a scorned housewife who’s finally Had Enough™️. And . . . They’re really not wrong for it. Really, though, it’s just the right song for when a sadist is just ready to gut a fucker but is disturbingly jolly about it.

“Love Me Dead” - Ludo Continuing with my trend of songs about people in less than ideal situations, “Love Me Dead” is straight to the point: The relationship is just awful and the guy gets nothing from it, but he can’t help but be hopelessly in a state of adoration for the woman he’s latched on to (“You’re born of a jackal! YOU’RE BEAUTIFUL!!”)

“Constellations” - The Oh Hellos There actually isn’t a plot to this song, it just feels really good (as all songs by The Oh Hellos are prone to be). However, if you feel a need to portray the concept of having to reorganize your thoughts after realizing that maybe they weren’t what you initially thought, and then coming to the conclusion that even though everything changes as a result, you’ll be alright? This is the song for you.

“A Kindling of Sorts” - The Oh Hellos An instrumental piece that is like . . . It’s related to another song of theirs about nationalism called “Torches”, so make of that what you will. (I personally have been using it to imagine storyboarding an opening for an animated The Witcher series.)

“The Other Side” - The Greatest Showman I know everyone and their mom has used this to portray situations like villains trying to get good guys to join their side. But I dun curr, it’s a fun song. That, and I like what Emilyamio did with her interpretation. It’s fun. For a basic rundown, know it’s another song about two characters’ dynamics being explored, with one coming to the other with a proposal that they join them in whatever endeavors they have in store. It’s often portrayed as something evil, but it really doesn’t have to be, as the original context was more about letting loose than anything.

“The Thief and the Moon” - Shawn James A much more mellow piece. Simple and straight to the point: A thief tells the Moon that he plans on stealing her light to shade the world in darkness. The Moon insists that the thief would only doom the world by doing so, to which the thief clarifies that he doesn’t care; if the world is shrouded in shadow, it means he will be able to steal with more ease (“My very existence is a race to attain wealth”). Disgusted, the Moon essentially curses the man with a warning that his greed can and will bring about his end -- and leave him to be forgotten by the rest of mankind, once it happens.

“Villainous Thing” - Shayfer James I’ve seen people say that this song is about singing to a cadaver but I can’t quite find anything confirming that (translation: I’m too lazy to look too into it). Regardless, it’s a fun ditty that yet again portrays someone with less than pure intentions encouraging someone to join him in some good old fashion villainy, as they’ve clearly endured their fair share of hardships and surely wanted to do evil anyway (“You’ll find no ever after here, it’s clear that isn’t what you came for“).

“Necromancin Dancin” - Bear Ghost Straight forward and fun as fuck: A necromancer apparently seems to cross classes and try his hand at barding by not only raising an army of the dead, but by also making them dance in order to make conquering the world easier. Because . . . a body doing Disco Duck isn’t scary, I guess.

"Aquaman” - Walk the Moon A song about one half of a couple wanting to become more involved in their relationship, but still having some nervousness about doing so. If you somehow haven’t heard this song yet, you gotta because it’s the cutest shit.

“Jenny’s Tale” - Ren I’ll be brutally honest, it’s about a woman named Jenny who just wants to get home after a long day of work and an unfortunate encounter with a 14 year old named Screech who gets way in over his head. As in, like, a death happens. That being said, I need. Like. An animated music video of this song. I imagine this shit in gritty charcoal or painted on glass, it just needs this. Somebody who isn’t me who knows what they’re doing, please look into this.

“The Curse of the Fold” - Shawn James As cheesy as it sounds, it basically boils down to not giving up or yielding. But what makes it so cool is the fact that Shawn James makes all his songs basically sound like a western gothic soundtrack. Which helps, because he admits that the title is also a reference to poker, in which giving up too often or too easily can often rob you of a delicious reward gained through perseverance and sacrifice.

“Thank God I’m Not You” - Himalayas I prefer to imagine this for an arrogant asshole of a character. Because that’s exactly what this song is about: They’re a liar and a thief, they’ve been called the son of Satan, and yet they consider themselves lucky -- ‘cause at least they ain’t you! If you have a character in mind who’s a delightful, punchable little shit, this is probably either their anthem or at least on the playlist you inevitably made for them.

"Passerine" - The Oh Hellos So there’s a common trend in The Oh Hellos’ discography that tends to explore the two founders’ experiences with faith and their growth in how they understand it or recognize it. With “Passerine”, the concept being explored is the experience they had when it came to taking a step back and realizing just how many of their supposed “fellow Christians” were actually doing some rather unchristian things, so to speak. When they “prune[d] their feathers”, it became clear that they had less in common with certain people proclaiming to be Christian while also spouting bigotry and greed. However, the desire to move away from such influences comes with the feeling of being torn, as moving too far away from the Bible leaves the singer feeling as though she is betraying something she holds dear. As a result, “Passerine” symbolizes not a breakage from faith, but a breakage from blind faith as they understood it, and the inevitable feeling of being torn that comes along with expanding upon how one views their beliefs and those around them. It’s therefore not uncommon to see Good Omens animatics using this song. (Something I also noticed is that throughout the song, you hear pieces of “Constellations”. TOH have a tendency to reference previous pieces, and considering “Constellations” is a song about changing perspective and the meanings we apply to them, it fits in beautifully with a song about reevaluating one’s stance.)

“Like the Dawn” - The Oh Hellos As stated before, a lot of TOH’s discography draws inspiration from their faith. In this case, it’s an outright retelling of the Garden of Eden, specifically when Adam awoke to find Eve had been created. What makes this iteration stand out to most, however, is that the singer is female, which seems to change the vibe you get. It sweetens the feeling of wonder we often forget the first man might’ve felt upon seeing somebody made for him, creating an air of beauty yet comfort with such lines as “And like the dawn, you broke the dark and my whole earth shook” or “You were the brightest shade of sun I had ever seen.” Even without the awareness or an interest in religious influences, it still manages to be a very feel-good song -- which is the mark of an overall good song in general!

“Confession” - RED Dealing with the constant battle of feeling ashamed that how you feel on the inside isn’t in sync with how you present yourself on the outside. That you should feel bad for smiling out at the world while screaming and thrashing -- like it’s a lie. But you can’t help it: It’s what you’re accustomed to. Though it does end on a hopeful note with the singer deciding that they want to reach out for help and rid themselves of this feeling of pain they have inside.

“When I Grow Up” - Matilda . . . Only if you want to cry. Seriously. When you’re a kid, everything seems difficult but you’re positive that once you grow up, everything will change: You’ll be tall enough to climb the trees you were too small to, you’ll be able to carry everything because you’re stronger, you’ll be brave enough to fight the monsters hiding in your room, you’ll finally have all the answers. . . . But life isn’t that simple. We wish it were, but it isn’t. There’s this bittersweetness about this song, about a sense of purity we unfortunately grow out of where we think things will be just the same enough for us to do what we want when we want, but things are more complicated than that. We still struggle to reach, to bear the weight, to not be afraid, to have even a fraction of the answers. But! We’re reminded that just because we’re told life isn’t fair, doesn’t mean we have to take it. After all, nothing changes when nothing happens. And even beyond that? It helps to remember that we’re never quite done growing up; there’s always more to learn, so remember to be patient with yourself.

“Hand Me My Shovel, I’m Going In!” - Will Wood and the Tapeworms This is . . . a song. The lyrics are honestly kinda all over the place and shooting rapid fire, making it a bit difficult to discern what exactly the singer is going on about. It makes for a pretty crazy song that suggests somebody’s going unhinged, which is apparently precisely the intention?? I’ve seen a lot of people interpret this as a song about a guy who is already at a low point in his life but nonetheless is going, “. . . I bet I can go deeper. Hand me my shovel.”

“No Reason” - Beetlejuice God if i had a youtube channel the segment i would spend on this song would be so juicy just ripe and thicc with thoughts and feelings i tell ya rich like a fresh fatty peach the apple that tempted Eve and gagged Adam yes ‘Nother song that explores the dynamic between two differing people and their worldviews. At its simplest, “No Reason” is about two opposite ends of a spectrum coming to a head: Idealistic and hippie-dippy Delia is convinced that everything happens for a reason, while cynical and depressed Lydia asserts that everything happens at random and it doesn’t matter anyway because we’re all going to die. And even though the delivery is ultimately a comedic one, you get more insight as to why one another feels the way that they do: Lydia, as we’ve previously learned, has recently lost her mother to an illness, which has left her depressed and feeling invisible (a theme in the show); whereas Delia’s failed marriage and desperate attempts to nonetheless be happy have left her dependent on the idea that these things had to have happened for a reason, otherwise, her pain would’ve been for nothing. What’s important is that neither side is actually appointed as the winner, with the song ultimately ending that the universe is random for a reason.

“Barbara 2.0″ - Beetlejuice Without spoiling anything (or at least too much), “Barbara 2.0″ is about growth. It’s about learning to put your foot down after a literal lifetime of being passive out of fear of what might happen and just accepting that nothing will happen if nothing happens -- but that doesn’t make whatever happens good.

“Bleed Magic” - IDHKBTFM It’s either about a killer or a vampire. No, seriously: When Dallon Weekes was asked about what the story of the song was, that was his answer. I personally prefer to think of it as a vampire or demon of some kind, given that the song came out around Halloween. Perfect for yet another example of somebody (likely supernatural) having an upper hand on an unsuspecting mortal. ...I have way too many of these on this list, I swear I don’t have a problem —

“Feel Good Drag” - Anberlin A toxic relationship of sorts. In that it shouldn’t be a relationship to begin with. Depicts the singer being approached by an ex, who seeks a one-night stand while her current boyfriend is out of town. However, the singer is aware that trying to continue anything regardless of the situation is a moot point: Even when they were together, their relationship was doomed from the start, and nothing about that is going to change -- especially now.

“Soviet Trumpeter” - Katzenjammer (It’s kinda difficult to work with this one but I’ve seen people work with less or stranger.) Based off the life of one Eddie Rosner, a Jewish Polish trumpeter whose fame within the USSR unfortunately faded due to the Soviet Union’s heavy censorship. Even if nothing is to be done with it, it still paints a melancholic picture of a talented man’s skills being largely unknown as a result of things beyond his control. All wrapped up in a song that denotes a strange deterioration in a way I can’t quite place.

“Apple Blossom” - The White Stripes On its face, it’s a very sweet song: The singer encourages his beloved to be vulnerable enough with him to tell him her troubles and to let him “sort them out for [her]”. She’s clearly saddened, and seeing so distresses him to where he insists that he will do whatever he can to make her happy. However, the tone of the song and certain lines make it easy to twist into yet another song of a character attempting to seduce somebody into a state of vulnerability . . .

“You’ve Got Possibilities” - It’s a Bird, It’s a Plane, It’s Superman The one singular song people actually liked from this forgotten musical. Perfect for when somebody intends on giving somebody else a makeover. Y’know, after totally roasting them on their posture and clothing. If you want to add a lil something extra, know that the context is that a lady wants to give Clark Kent a makeover, insisting that in spite of his schlubby appearance, there’s gotta be something underneath. I repeat: She is telling this to Clark freaking Kent.

 “Still” - Anastasia In the context, the show’s antagonist (not bad guy, there’s a difference) finds himself torn between obligation and personal interest: Does he fulfill his duty and live up to expectations set upon him by his father and the society he’s been selected to help uphold? Or does he let a woman he has become fond of go? Is she truly as innocent as she claims? Or is she well aware of what she’s doing? And every time he thinks he’s reached a conclusion, he can’t help but thing, “But still . . .” Good for when you want to portray a character conflicted between obligations of politics and what their heart wants.

“Two Nobodies in New York” - [title of show] Two young men plan on entering an upcoming theatrical festival but struggle with what to even submit. This song in particular focuses on them trying to figure out what to even write, the concept of fame, and if wanting the certain things that may come with fame can mean anything from being sell-outs to getting a sitcom. It’s admittedly specific, but it’s a cute and funny interaction between two guys who are, for the most part, actually in sync with their thoughts and anxieties. For the time being.

“Into the Unknown” - Idina Menzel Look, I refuse to watch that movie. I just do. But I will take this song over That Other One any day. Mostly because I personally like to imagine that the singer in this song is about to embark on a Pixaresque journey after accidentally leaving her home during the night of The Wild Hunt, accidentally separating her spirit from her body and thus giving her a very limited time to get back to it before she remains a soul trapped in a whirlwind of ghosts forever. But first: Let’s sing about that strange howling that coaxes her so.

“You’re Gonna Go Far, Kid” - The Offspring I sure do long songs that can characterize a shithead . . . Anywho! The smoothest way to go is just to portray some cocky, manipulative shit who’s used to just lying and cheating their way to get what they want before slipping away without any consequences -- to a point. There’s the option of portraying the betrayer’s comeuppance, but there’s also the frustratingly delicious option of just letting them get away with whatever to lie another day.

“Why Should I Worry” - Billy Joel When in doubt, go to earlier Disney. Because like it or not, they had some bops. And when in the need of portraying a happy-go-lucky (probably idiotic) doofus and his more neurotic or cynical friend going about their life with the former just Mr. Magooing it while the latter suffers more realistic consequences? You go with this song. If you want. That’s just me.

“Transformation” - Brother Bear For when you want to invoke a mystical or otherworldly feeling. There’s really not much more I can say except to encourage you to listen to it and watch the scene if you can find it. You’ll get the vibe.

“No Girl’s Toy” - Raggedy Ann and Andy: A Musical Adventure It’s a big shame this movie is relatively unknown and never got a proper VHS release or anything -- mainly because the music in this cult classic is definitely stuff I could see becoming standards. I could see people performing “I Never Get Enough” for little shows, or recycling “Blue” for a different show. Thankfully, somebody was able to upload a clear enough sounding recording of “No Girl’s Toy”, so at least we have that. In context (just...follow me on this), Raggedy Ann’s brother, Raggedy Andy, has had enough of being subjected to “girly things” while in the nursery. Additionally, though, the way the song was written means it can also be interpreted as just a guy who refuses to let himself be yanked around regardless of how thick the sugar being laid on him is. . . . If you wanna poke fun as a character for trying to appear tougher than what he is, here’s the song. (That being said, Andy is a sweetheart at the end of the day. No amount of tough-fronting will hide that.)

“I Enjoy Being a Girl” - Flower Drum Song (It is by sheer coincidence that this song follows the above.) Really, it’s exactly what it says on the tin: The singer enjoys being a girl and what all it entails for her. She loves her feminine form, she loves the attention she gets, she loves dolling herself up, she loves frilly dresses, and she hopes to one day marry a guy who enjoys “having a girl like [her].” And honestly? Good on her! Love whatcha love, lovely! Seriously, though, it’s a cute song for anyone who just wants to indulge in some girliness.

“Chip on My Shoulder” - Legally Blonde Come on: It’s Legally Blonde. You know what this bop is, or at least have an idea of it. But since I love this song, I’ll indulge: Disheartened by her failure to both win back her ex and succeed in the fast-paced environment of Harvard, the normally bright-eyed Elle is ready to call it quits. That is, until junior partner Emmett gets involved. Unimpressed by her story, Emmett reveals that he got to where he was by busting his ass due to having a chip on his shoulder from his rough beginnings — and maybe a chip on the shoulder is exactly what Elle needs to survive. And as somebody driven by spite, I can appreciate that kind of message. Anywho, it all in all is a song about growth and learning how to be “driven as hell” to keep up with an opportunity that may not be easy to take, but is not one to be passed by.

“What Do I Need with Love?” - Thoroughly Modern Millie “What Do I Need with Love?” asks exactly that: He could date a different girl every night of the week if he so wanted, and never once had any desire to go steady before. He considers himself lucky to have never fallen for anyone -- until now. Which he’s not! He’s not in love. ...He totally is and, by his own admission, he’s got it bad it’s terribly adorable.

“Interlude IV” - Zach Callison The entire album is actually a narrative about a failed relationship of Callison’s and I’m sure the other songs are just as great fuel for animatics -- I’m just too caught up on listening to this one over and over. Sometimes, we just wanna listen to Steven Universe cuss and be openly furious. Seriously, though, even without the context of the rest of the story, you get the idea well enough: A spiteful Zach decides to get back at the one that broke his heart in such a painful way, whereas a well-meaning friend insists they just leave it be and move on. While this technically would be the better and healthier option, Zach is just too far gone with rage to let it go and decides to take care of things by himself.

“Evermore” - Beauty & the Beast Look, I know the remake wasn’t anything crazy. But also I don’t honestly care too terribly much. Besides, this song was nice and it really gets me after that key change. We all want a royal doofus to be enamored enough with us to let us go for our own happiness but still know that their life will forever be changed because they met us. Animate that shit. Over and over.

goddamn this list is long lemme just stop this now byyyyeeeee

[abarbaricyalp]

In Any Version of Reality (i'd find you and i'd choose you)

@pynchpromptweek

Pynch // Prompt: Alternate Meeting // Rated: T for mature themes

Warnings: Discussion of canon typical abuse and night terror injuries several times, discussion of blood, death, and trauma

AO3 Link

In which: Adam and Ronan meet over and over again

It might’ve happened like this: 16

Ronan Lynch was quitting the tennis team but still had to go to practices for the semester. So he was particularly angry when he realized he was in pain and his nose was gushing blood during said practice.

“I’m going home,” he said, in the particular surly way sixteen year old boys, but particularly Ronan Lynch, had.

His coach grabbed him by the gym shirt and hauled him to the nurse’s office anyway. “Sit down, shut up, and behave,” the man ordered and disappeared around a corner to explain to the school nurse what had happened.

Ronan wasn’t paying attention because in front of him, the most beautiful boy he’d ever seen was organizing supplies and cross checking some log. He saw the boy look up at him and knew he was talking because his mouth was moving but Ronan didn’t hear any of it.

“I don’t know, a bandaid?” he ventured eventually.

The boy raised a fine eyebrow. “A bandaid did that to your face? Here.” He handed Ronan a gauze ball and showed him how to apply pressure properly without hurting himself too much. Ronan assumed there were verbal instructions too, but he couldn’t hear them over the roar of his heart.

“It’s Ronan, right?” the boy asked, familiar words breaking through Ronan’s stupor.

“Yeah. Ronan Lynch,” he answered. “Who are you?”

The boy grinned a little shyly and shrugged. “I’m new. I’m only a nurse aid until I can take my entrance exam for Latin II. I transferred over and they won’t just let me join my cohort.”

“You’re a sophomore?” Ronan asked, excitement bubbling in his chest because he was a sophomore in Latin II which meant he’d see a lot more of the new kid.

“Yeah, yeah, I transferred at the break. My name’s Adam. Adam Parrish,” he said, and held out a perfect hand.

Ronan shook it.

It might’ve happened like this: 15

Ronan was sitting in a hospital hallway, scratching at the thick bandages around his forearms while Declan filled out paperwork down the hall and Gansey tried to prove he wasn’t beside himself with worry by buying too much from the vending machine in the next wing.

He wasn’t expecting a boy his age to sit down next to him in the uncomfortable plastic chairs, a blue cast all the way to his elbow.

“Hey,” Ronan said.

“Hey,” the kid greeted. He had light hair and sad eyes and Ronan already wanted to take him home like he was some lost puppy.

Like Ronan wasn’t the lost puppy at the moment.

“Sitting over here feels like sitting at the kids table at holidays, huh?” Ronan said.

The kid shrugged. “Wouldn’t know. I don’t have a lot of extended family.”

“What happened to your arm?”

“What happened to yours?”

Ronan scowled but the kid didn’t seem like he was easily cowed. “I sleep walk. I hurt myself doing it.” Which wasn’t...a lie lie. It was...an untruth.

The kid glanced at a man at the receptionist’s desk and grimaced. “I fell down the stairs.” And Ronan knew that was a lie lie.

“Well, I hope you get less clumsy,” Ronan said anyway.

“Could say the same to you.”

“Yeah, it wouldn’t do either of us very much good, would it?” Ronan asked.

The kid looked at him, appraising and tired and then he shrugged. “Probably not.”

“My name’s Ronan,” Ronan said.

“Adam, let’s go,” the man from the receptionist’s desk barked, and Adam jumped up so fast he might’ve knocked over the bolted down chairs.

“I’ll see you around, Ronan,” Adam said.

But they didn’t.

It might’ve happened like this: 22

Gansey was having a field day with this whole scenario. Ronan hated him for it. But probably not as much as he hated himself for agreeing to it. Then again, the check sitting on his kitchen table--a down payment, no less--was enough for him to forgo hatred for a while.

He watched the studio trailers drive in like little white ants. They set up a perimeter where they wanted to work and Ronan watched horse trailers get unloaded and set up in old barns and cameras set up in empty fields.

The first person to approach him was a dusty man with dusty hair and dusty skin and bright eyes. “Hey, sir, sorry to bother you,” he greeted, all Virginia charm and hick. “But I was wonderin’ if I might be able to use a spare room. The talent don’t show up until tomorrow and we’re a bed short without our full camper caravan. Uh, they told me to remind you the house is part of the contract.”

Ronan scowled and the man grinned cheerily back. “You’re not an actor, right?” Ronan asked.

The man paused, head almost ticking to the side. “Like I said, sir, the talent’ll show up tomorrow.”

Ronan grumbled and turned around to let the man in, detouring to the kitchen to pour him coffee.

“Wow, you better not let anyone else know you make the good stuff,” the man said with a laugh, sipping at the drink even though it was hot and he cringed every time. “They’ll come raid your whole place for a good cup.”

“I won’t tell if you don’t,” Ronan said drily. He sat down at his dining table and the man followed. “It’s Ronan.”

“Adam,” the man said.

Ronan eyed him suspiciously. “Isn’t  the lead actor on this project Adam Parrish?”

Again, the man’s eyebrows rose a little and Ronan got the complete sense that he was being studied. “You don’t know what Adam Parrish looks like?”

“Does he look like you?” Ronan asked.

The man’s mouth quirked into a smirk and he leaned back in the chair. “Nah, Adam Parrish is a movie star,” he said, like Ronan hadn’t just said the same thing. “I’m just trailer trash.”

“Are you making a joke about your campers or divulging life information on me?”

The man shrugged. “Why not both? You really don’t know who Adam Parrish is?”

Ronan shook his head and took too large a swallow of his drink, making a face as it burned his throat. “I don’t have a TV. I prefer to read.” Every single one of his high school teachers would’ve begged to differ, but a lot could happen in five years. “And my friends aren’t big into movies either.”

“Yeah, but he’s on all the magazine covers,” the man tried.

“Do I look like a middle aged housewife? I ain’t reading People and US Weekly.”

Adam  hummed and nodded. “He’s a good guy, people say. Don’t be too mean to him.”

“Who, Parrish?” Ronan asked. “Didn’t he win a bunch of Oscars the other year or something?”

“Well, there was only one solo award. The rest was ensemble awards. Best Movie and all that. Besides, even winning Best Actor means he had a good director and supporting cast, y’know.”

“You don’t sound like a fan,” Ronan said.

The man choked on a laugh and shrugged again. “Guess I just know how much teamwork goes into a movie, is all.”

“How come an Oscar winner wants to come do some campy western all the way out here?”

The man leaned forward conspiratorially. “I heard he’s always wanted to be a cowboy. Even took horse riding lessons with his first check. Besides, he’s from out here. This town I think.”

“There’s no way Henrietta made some movie star and I’ve never heard of him,” Ronan objected. There were many ways that he’d never heard of him, but that was besides the point.

The man shrugged. “Too many schools out here. Easy to miss someone.” Then, tripping over himself to explain, he said, “We did a lot of scouting of the region.”

Ronan shrugged. “Yeah, I guess. Is Parrish playing the werewolf? Is he a cowboy-werewolf?” he asked.

Adam laughed and shrugged. “Who’s to say. You might just have to go watch this movie.”

Ronan rolled his eyes and stood up. “Come on, let me show you to the spare room. The closet is stocked with blankets and pillows. Bathroom’s connected. It’s a Jack-And-Jill, but no one’s in the other room. And I guess if you don’t tell anyone, you can help yourself to the fridge.”

Adam grinned at him and held out his hand. “I think we’re gonna get along great, Ronan.”

Ronan rolled his eyes but shook Adam’s hand. He had a cowboy’s handshake, or at least what Ronan assumed a cowboy’s handshake would feel like, warm, firm, calloused. A lifetime of work behind it.

“Whatever, just let me know if you need help clearing property or something.”

The man grinned, crooked and beautiful. “Sure thing, sir.”

Ronan left him to do whatever he wanted and by the time he got downstairs, there were three more people at his door.

“Jesus Christ, what do you all want?” he snapped.

Someone with a clipboard blinked up at him. “Uh, we were told Parrish came over here? He’s got a light check in five minutes.”

Ronan frowned and shook his head. “No, I’ve just got one of you crew guys up here. I thought Parrish wasn’t coming in until tomorrow.”

Behind the guy with the clipboard, a woman smacked her palm into her forehead. “Jesus. Is this crew guy’s name Adam by any chance?”

“Wait,” said clipboard guy, “you don’t know who Adam Parrish is?”

Ronan’s stomach dropped out from under him. “Why are you asking me like that?”

“I told all of you I’d be there on time,” Adam said from behind them. He put his hand on the small of Ronan’s back to slip by him. “I know how to read a time schedule.”

“You really didn’t know this was Adam Parrish? And he introduced himself to you as Adam?” clipboard guy repeated, pointing up at Adam.

Adam smiled bashfully. “Sorry. It was just so nice to talk to someone who didn’t know who I was,” he said. “I promise I’ll make it up to you.”

Ronan blushed furiously as Adam Parrish was herded away.

As it turns out, he did go see the movie. At the premier, on Adam Parrish’s arm.

It might’ve happened like this: 18

It was the dead of night and Ronan had followed the only flicker of light across down in a truck that was wheezing its last breath. He’d (barely) graduated highschool and immediately decided to never take another class in his life and start a farm instead.

Only he hadn’t expected all the old trucks his father had owned to be on their last leg and completely useless for hauling wood and supplies. So here he was, half pushing the truck into Boyd’s garage. He’d driven past the old bays a thousand and one times but had never gone in. The BMW drove like a dream and so he’d never had reason to. Until now.

A tall man came out of the far bay, wiping his hands on a towel, and appraised the truck in the dark. “Sorry, I’m not gonna be able to get to it until the morning,” he said and Ronan’s toes curled at his voice.

“That’s alright. I just couldn’t leave it on the side of the road,” he said. “And risking the engine to get it here was better than calling a tow truck.”

“You need a ride home?” the guy asked. “I was just gettin’ ready to lock up.”

Ronan weighed his options, between calling Gansey and taking a ride from a stranger. A stranger with really nice hands.

“I could use a ride.”

The guy grinned at him and hooked something up to the front of the truck to finish pulling it into the bay. “Might not get to this one until tomorrow evening, if that’s alright. We’ve got a full garage right now. Lots of minivans getting ready for summer vacations.”

Ronan snorted and shrugged. “Guess I can’t argue. Ain’t like I can take it anywhere else.”

“That’s true. You’re a captive audience. I’m over here,” he said, nodding to a Franken-Car. “Just give me half a second to lock down the doors.” The guy ducked into a bay and pulled all the garage doors down until Boyd’s was just a black shape against the night sky, and then he came out of the front office, and locked the door.

“What name should I put down on the paperwork?” he asked as he piled into the ugly car. With a dubious look at the hood, Ronan followed.

“I’m Ronan.”

“Good to meet you, Ronan. I’m Adam. Where am I taking you?”

And if people saw movement in the yellow glow of Boyd’s second bay the next night, bodies tangling together and coming apart, it wasn’t any of their business.

It might’ve happened like this: 13

Ronan sat in an uncomfortable chair outside of a boring cubicle and tried not to think about how Delcan was curled around Matthew in a kid’s playroom of the foster agency building and Ronan would be more than welcome. Nothing about the past twenty four hours felt childlike. He didn’t feel childlike anymore.

The image of his father laying in the driveway and no one else around the pool of blood was imprinted on Ronan’s brain forever. He was never going to be okay again.

Shouting made Ronan lift his head. In the attached wing of the building, a man was shouting obscenities and a female social worker led a boy away from him, shielding the kid with her body as they waited for doors to unlock.

The boy was small, but Ronan’s age, he could tell by the way his hair hung in his eyes and the uneven knobs of his elbows. He was growing into his body the same way Ronan was. Puberty camaraderie was a thing. The woman came into the children’s wing, murmuring reassurances to the boy and petting his hair. The man who’d brought Ronan, Declan, and Matthew in had done nothing of the sort.

“Here, Mr. Adam. Sit here with Ronan for a little while while we get paperwork sorted out for you.”

Up close, Ronan could see the kid was bruised all to hell and he moved gingerly as he sat down beside Ronan. He hugged his arms against his chest and didn’t glance at Ronan until Ronan nudged his foot against the kid’s.

“Your name’s Adam?” he asked, and ignored how his voice wobbled a little bit.

The kid nodded. “And you’re Ronan. What kind of name is that?”

“It’s Irish,” Ronan said. Normally he had a whole spiel about his name, but just thinking about his dad made his throat seize up and he couldn’t give it.

“Who did that to you?” Ronan asked.

“Who do you think?” Adam asked, nodding at the name of the foster agency on the wall.

“What’s gonna happen to you?” Because they both seemed like sensible guys who knew what this building meant.

Adam shrugged. “I guess they’re trying to call my aunts and uncles, but I don’t think I have any.”

“I don’t either,” Ronan said. “They said they had to read my Dad’s will.”

Adam grimaced next to him. “I’m sorry,” he said.

“I am too. About your face.”

“Do you want to stay here?” Adam asked.

Ronan nodded quickly. “It’s home. I want to go home!” he said a little louder, to no reaction from the caseworker next to them. “What about you?” he asked, when he’d settled down. “Do you want to stay.”

Adam shook his head. “I hate this town.”

“Well,” Ronan said, sitting back. “I hope you get out.”

At the same time, the door opened and a wild haired woman--white hair, down to her waist--rushed in. “My name is Persephone. I’m here for Adam.”

Adam and Ronan looked at each other.

“Do you know here?” Ronan asked out of the corner of his mouth.

Adam shook his head. “I’ve never seen her before in my life.”

“That’s alright,” the woman said from across the way, no way she could’ve heard them. “I know you, Adam.”

“Ronan Lynch, we’ve got everything squared away with the school. They’ll have dorms for you and  your brothers by this evening,” the caseworker next to them said with a cheery smile that belonged nowhere near the situation.

Ronan and Adam stood up together.

“Sounds like we’re both staying here,” Adam said.

“And neither of us is getting what we want,” Ronan replied.

The boys sighed and Adam held out an arm with a nasty friction burn on it, fingers curled in a fist. “Maybe we’ll see each other again,” he suggested.

Ronan knocked his knuckles against Adam’s. “Yeah, maybe.”

And they did.

It might’ve happened like this: 17

Ronan pulled up to the red light with a rev of his engine. The Mitsu revved back. For once, Kavinsky’s windows were tinted and he didn’t roll down the window to leer at Ronan, but he knew Kavinsky’s Mitsu, the spoiler and the decal and all the gaudy ugliness of it all.

The light changed and the cars were off.

But something was wrong. Kavinsky didn’t stall like he always did and he didn’t let up on the first turn, like he always did. He did tear through the next yellow light, making Ronan continue the chase. And another. And another, far longer than Kavinsky had ever raced before. The longer they drove, the less sure Ronan got of himself until he hesitated at a two-way and the Mitsu kept going, screeching to a halt in a cul-de-sac. The BMW sadly roared in a second later.

Ronan jumped out of the BMW, fuming and angry and embarrassed. He had to beat the shit out of Kavinsky  so he’d think it was just a dream or something. Instead, though, he came up short when someone other than Kavinsky folded himself out of the Mitsu. And it wasn’t anyone else in the immediate Dream-Pack either. It was a tall kid with a blonde hair, tanned skin, a bruised cheek, and a taunting grin.

“I don’t know how K hasn’t done that to you before,” the guy gloated as he strode over to Ronan. “He made it seem like you were a racer and you’re not anything more than he is.”

Ronan fumed and stepped up to the guy. He had an inch or two on him, but it was nothing like the advantage he had on other guys he fought. As it was, before Ronan could lift a hand, the blond held up a finger, then pointed down the street where the rest of the Dream-Pack was turning.

“I won’t tell if you won’t,” he said and climbed into the passenger side of the BMW.

Shocked, Ronan followed on autopilot, getting back into the driver’s seat. “If you win this one,” the guy said, “I’ll blow you on the drive back.”

“Who are you?” Ronan demanded, turning to look at the guy, a blush high on his cheeks.

The other man grinned at him. “You don’t recognize me, huh? Name’s Parrish. We have Bio together.”

Right, fuck. The scholarship kid with the grease on his hands.

“Did you rig the Mitsu to do that?” Ronan asked. “At the shop or whatever?”

Parrish laughed, head thrown back, mean and biting. “Hell no. Kavinsky doesn’t have a clue what to do with all the firepower under that hood. I do.”

“You do?” Ronan repeated.

“I’m good with my hands,” Parrish said and then nodded to the line of cars around them. “Drive and you’ll find out.”

Ronan drove.

It might’ve happened like this: 18

Matthew somehow had friends at Mountain View High and had begged Ronan to take him to see them play in their baseball game. Aglionby’s baseball team sucked. Mountain View, it turned out, did not. Most of their success, Ronan thought, could be contributed to the fact that Aglionby hadn’t managed to get a single hit off of MVH’s pitcher.

If Ronan managed to find a stray dog to play with near the bullpen while he was warming up, or happened to be chilling next to the home team dug out when he wasn’t batting, that was no one’s business. After the game, after Matthew had disappeared with his friends, after the stands had cleared, the boy emerged from the dugout, dragging equipment with him.

“Hey,” Ronan said, pretending like he hadn’t been waiting around. “Need help?”

“Why am I not surprised that you’re still around, Raven Boy?” the kid asked, a scowl coming to his pink mouth. “Need help finding the parking lot?”

Ronan rolled his eyes and reached for the base that was falling out of the kid’s arms. “No, told you I’m just trynna help.”

The pitcher glared at him but didn’t keep arguing. Instead, he walked off to a shed set away from the fields and fought a key free to unlock it.

“They always leave this job for one person?” Ronan asked.

“No, usually it’s two, but the guy who was supposed to stay with me got hurt and had to go to the med clinic,” Adam said.

Ronan remembered a kid taking a bad pitch to the ribs. He sucked in a breath in sympathy.

“Well, how about you help me with this shit and I’ll treat you to dinner,” Ronan suggested. It was brash and forward and dangerous, but he felt like it would work. He really wanted it to work.

The kid looked at him out of the corner of his eye. “It’s my job. Aren’t you supposed to be helping me and I’ll pay.”

Ronan shrugged. “Sure, I’m sure there’s a MVH discount at Nino’s.”

Adam snorted. “They’d lose half their money that way.”

“Well, they definitely don’t give a shit about giving us a discount.”

“Poor rich kids. How do you afford nine dollar pizzas?”

“Hey, some of us go often enough to keep the doors open,” Ronan laughed. “So… is that a yes to dinner?”

“What’s your name, Raven Boy?” the guy asked.

“It’s Lynch. Ronan Lynch.”

“I’m Adam. And you’re buying me dinner tonight.”

It might’ve happened like this: 16

Gansey caught Ronan staring at the boy with the bike and pulled over in front of him.

“Hey!” he called, waving like the kid wouldn’t be able to see him. “Need a ride?”

And the kid put his bike in the trunk and climbed into the car. “I’m Gansey,” Gansey said, turning the full effect of his charm on the new kid. “This is Ronan.”

The kid glanced between them warily, eyes lingering on Ronan’s like he could see the longing in them, before knocking his knuckles against Gansey’s. “I’m Adam Parrish.”

“Well, Adam, what do you know about dead Welsh kings?”

It might’ve happened like this: 16

Gansey sat down at the lunch table across from Ronan like all the troubles in the world were on his shoulders. Surprisingly, someone sat down next to him. It was the kid from the road, God damn Gansey. 

“Ronan, this is Adam. Adam, this is Ronan. Ignore his snarl, he’s a decent guy,” Gansey introduced and then set off on swapping pieces of his sandwich for Ronan’s and taking one of the sweets Ronan had grabbed for an apple from Gansey’s plate. “It’s Adam’s first day. I’m his guide for the school.”

“Sucks for you,” Ronan said to Adam, teasing out a grin from Adam, which he hid very well.

Gansey kept chattering with Adam while he ate a sandwich. When it was gone, so was Gansey, off to talk to the row team or something.

“Um, so you play tennis right?” Adam said after a second of watching Ronan categorically destroy his own sandwich.

Ronan looked up at him with irritation but shrugged. “Sure. I used to.” He half expected Gansey to appear and remind them both that he had two junior titles and a state title behind him.

“I, uh, just saw your tattoo the other day. I was getting a tour. You musta been trying to take the cover off the ball, you were hitting it so hard.”

Ronan sneered, but it might have been an aborted smile. “They took you by the tennis courts?”

“I tried to tell them I wasn’t going to play a sport, but I guess your PE credit is required here.”

Ronan balked at the thought of watching Adam work out. “You’re a nerd then?” he asked, finally taking a bite of his sandwich.

Adam took a significantly smaller bite of a peanut butter sandwich. Ronan realized he didn’t have anything else and he flicked the apple at him. Adam looked at it and ignored it. “You mean I transferred in to learn and not to get recruited for a row scholarship?” he clarified.

“Yeah, something like that,” Ronan said. “You’re not so bad, nerd.”

Adam rolled his eyes.

But, really, it had to happen like this: 16

Two months after the scholarship kid showed up at the school, he walked through the door of Monmouth. Ronan turned down his music, curious but keeping his face schooled as anything but.

“Ronan, Adam just saved my life!” Gansey called. Ronan appeared in the mouth of the hallway connecting the living room and bedrooms and found Gansey, almost disheveled, and the scholarship student/bike kid standing in the the middle of Gansey’s ‘bedroom.’

“How’s that?” he asked. “He dig you out of whatever ditch your shitty car left you in?”

Adam was reading the spines of the books on Gansey’s desk and didn’t seem keen on answering.

“Yes, exactly. He actually got it up and running before I had to call a tow truck,” Gansey explained, shrugging out of his jacket and revealing grease and mud stains on the shirt under it.

“It sounds magical,” Ronan said, deadpan.

“And he knew about Glendower.”

Now Adam did turn, looking a little bashful. “Just that he’s a character in Henry IV,” he explained.

“That’s more than most people know,” Ronan said.

“You guys don’t read Henry IV in private school?”

“You read Henry IV freshman year?” Ronan asked.

Adam shrugged. “My teacher hated Romeo and Juliet.”

Gansey laughed, full chested and free, and pulled Adam towards a spread of journals. “So, here’s what we’ve figured so far…”

“Have you double checked French translations?” Adam asked, pointing to something in a journal.

Gansey beamed up at him and Ronan realized he was doomed.

(I know I’m so late with this! Forgive me!)

[aislingxashling]

( SAOIRSE RONAN + CISFEMALE) — Have you seen AISLING ORLA HOLLAND ? This TWENTY-FOUR year old is a/an MURAL ARTIST who resides in BROOKLYN. SHE/HER has/have been living in NYC for THREE MONTHS, and is/are known to be ENDURING and INQUISITIVE, but can also be SUBMISSIVE and SELF-CRITICAL, if you cross them. People tend to associate them with PASTEL COLORS and FLOWER DRAWINGS

Name: Aisling (ash-ling) Orla Holland

Age: Twenty-Four

Birthday: June 22, 1996

Sign: Cancer

Neighborhood: Brooklyn

Home: Hostel

Occupation: Mural Painter/Artist - works in a local bookstore to supplement income

Character Quote: “At any given moment you have the power to say this is not how the story is going to end.” ― Christine Mason Miller

Pos. Traits: Enduring, Inquisitive, Kind-hearted, Creative

Neg. Traits: Submissive, Self-Critical, Withdrawn, Forgetful

Likes: buying fresh sets of paint, going to art galleries, re-stocking shelves at the bookstore

Dislikes: her parents and soon to be ex-husbabd, plain colored rooms, litter/people who litter

Aesthetic: pastel colors, flower-drawings, paint streaked clothes

~about~

Aisling was born into an extremely devout, Catholic family. They walked to church multiple times a week, with all the Holland siblings being enrolled in Sunday school from the time they could talk until they turned eighteen. Prayer was said ritualistically before all meals and at bed time.

Growing up, she was unaware that not every household was as strict as hers when it came to both chores and religion. Household chores were divided into women’s and men’s work, with Aisling, being the youngest and a girl, in charge of doing the washing and other traditionally feminine tasks.

Her favorite childhood memories are ones spent doing arts and crafts both in church activities and at school. Art was her best subject, followed closely by English. It was through art and expression that she began to realize not everyone thought the way that her family did, and that there were forms of self expression other than religion.

Tired of being so controlled, Aisling began sneaking out at night just to do art. For the most part it was just tag work done around the small town on abandoned buildings. A few of her pieces were even featured in local news articles, the press intrigued by the mysterious person leaving their art around the city.

When it came time to further her studies what she really wanted to pursue was art, but upon trying to have that discussion with her parents she was berated to the point that she decided to major in English Lit, just to make them happy and keep them off her tail.

It was during college that she met Oswald. The two began to seriously date during her sophomore year. She had been introduced through her parents of course, who had just happened to know his from their time spent visiting another church while on vacation. He was the approved deal.

During her senior year of college they suffered a pregnancy scare. Aisling, who had been raised to wait until marriage to have sex, had decided that was one rule she would willingly break, and Oswald was all too eager to help her. After the scare the two decided that they should marry before any other unfortunate events happened. It was not necessarily what Aisling wanted for herself, but as a recent college graduate who’s world was still rather small and sheltered, she didn’t really know what she did want either.

During the two years that they were married, Oswald changed. He began working in politics and government like her father. The long hours meant he was tired and irritable when he came home, oft talking down to her and belittling her for not being the perfect housewife; and his rage when he came home to a cold meal due to her ‘unnecessary and frivolous arts and crafts’. In the beginning he had supported her art, coming home with gifts of special paints or perfect drawing paper, but as his mind was warped by the men around him, he began to view her art as beneath him, as a waste of time and money.

Aisling was also forbidden from working; her degree meant to be merely a symbol that she had grown up in a ‘proper’ family. As her marriage wore on her husband became even more controlling. Only allowing her to leave the house if she was going to church or to do the shopping. Eventually, she began feeling claustrophobic as she was so crunched into herself, so controlled. Art was the only thing that made her feel alive, and so under the guise of joining the local churches women’s group, she began sneaking out of the house just to practice her art. When Oswald found out, his wrath was a sight to behold. The beating she received at his hand for her ‘insubordination’ left her so devastating injured that she had to be taken to hospital.

Once there she reached her parents, begging them to take her back into their home; stating she wanted to leave her husband, that she was afraid of him. Her parents, however, had already been told the whole sordid tale by her husband and were siding with him. If she had only been behaving, they told her, acting as a good Catholic wife should, none of this would have happened. Their fury with her was such that they compared her to a brother she never knew she had, as he had been sent away mere months before she was born. Her mother mentioned he lived in New York, and it piqued her interest.

The idea of having a family member not like her parents made her heart soar. She knew she needed to leave Oswald, and New York seemed the perfect place for a young artist at heart to thrive. Through the help of an online women’s support group, with one girl in particular going above and beyond to help her. While still in the hospital Aisling booked a one-way ticket to New York. With only the clothes on her back she boarded a plane before anyone would know she was gone and headed to New York.

Her new friend greeted her with open arms, helping her to obtain a work visa and a place to stay. It might only be a hostel, but the freedom of not living with those who would try and oppress her made it heaven. She still struggles trying to fit into the American culture; especially when handling currency. Luckily, the job she has achieved at the local book store when she isn’t making art has been incredibly kind to her.

Intrigued by the beautiful street are she has seen, Aisling has begun her own blog following her progress as she too paints her way through the city, bringing art to otherwise dull buildings. She details her process on the murals from beginning to end, and also does commission paintings to help bring in extra cash. The young woman has also located her brother, but has yet to work up the courage to go and meet him, as she is still trying to find herself and who she is after having been so oppressed for so long.

[three-drink-amy]

In the Eye of a Hurricane

We’re getting close to the end here, folks. Only two chapters after this one. Chapter 14 will post Sunday! Thank you for the love for this story! 

master list - AO3

Chapter Thirteen

After Jenny left and Claire accepted the choice she’d made, time started to pass in a blur. Nothing stood out to her. Her life almost seemed rote. She would get up, fix Frank breakfast, see him off to work, and do whatever chores needed doing. There was no deviation from routine. Frank pushed her to be the perfect wife, and it was only fear that compelled her to do so. Meals were always made. The house was always spotless. Claire did her best to sport at least a hint of a smile when he walked in the door. But on the inside, she was empty. Her life had no meaning. 

Before Jamie, she’d had nursing. Frank wouldn’t allow her to continue her nursing career once she returned, so she didn’t even have that. At Lallybroch, even when she couldn’t leave, they’d made her feel important and helpful while she was there. But in Oxford, she felt adrift. She knew her heart and her passion were still in Scotland and there was no use in her trying to find it elsewhere. She wouldn’t be able to recapture it. 

It wasn’t until she was looking at the calendar to mark an event of Frank’s that she realized she’d been back a full month. Three months at Lallybroch had passed in a blink of peace, but one month with Frank had dragged on like a year. 

She lived in a constant state of fear and anxiety. Since she’d been back, Frank hadn’t raised a hand to her. Aside from some not-so-veiled threats at the beginning, he’d been calm. Once he could tell that she’d fully assumed the role of meek housewife, he had no complaints. She made sure everything was as perfect as possible to avoid any outbursts. He wasn’t quite the same Frank from before the war, but blessedly, he wasn’t the same Frank she’d left. 

Still, she didn’t want to fall into a false sense of security. Each time she wondered if her running away had taught him a lesson, she reminded herself of what he was capable of doing. She heard Jamie and Jenny’s pleas in her mind. He’s going to hurt ye again. And because of that, she was constantly on alert. He hadn’t hurt her yet. 

Spending days alone was hard for her. She had nothing to distract her from her pain. During the evenings, she had to entertain Frank and keep things in order. But the days were harder. She would often think of what she could be doing if she was at Lallybroch. Each time, she’d push it from her mind, but it came back so easily. She’d be cooking Frank’s dinner and she’d hear advice from Mrs. Fitz. She’d be sewing a button back on a shirt and she’d picture Jenny doing the same. She’d see Frank crawl into bed and she’d remember how it felt to lay next to Jamie. 

Bedtime became another difficult time. She couldn’t fathom sharing a bed with Frank again. She’d known true peace and passion in the time she’d shared a bed with Jamie. To attempt to find that with Frank would feel like a betrayal and a lie. Each night, she’d lay as far to the edge of the bed as she could. When Frank fell asleep, she’d retreat to the couch, pulling a blanket from the closet. As far as Frank knew, she just always woke up before him. 

Claire had been back in Oxford for a month and a half when she met Louise. She and her husband lived across the street, but Claire hardly ever left the house. Or even more, hardly ever felt like chatting. Claire was getting the mail one day when Louise was getting out of her car. She gleefully ran over to introduce herself. Claire did her best to fake a smile and try to get back inside. After they’d been formally introduced, Claire somehow started to run into Louise more and more often. Once Claire actually started talking to Louise, she realized she was a very comforting presence. Her husband taught at Oxford as well so they often ended up at events together. 

One afternoon, Claire was enjoying tea at Louise’s. Unbeknownst to her, it was an afternoon that would start to change her life. Louise stirred her spoon in her tea, all the while looking at Claire. “You’re not very happy, are you Claire?” 

Claire’s eyes widened as she looked at the other woman. “I’m sorry?” 

“It’s something I’ve noticed about you,” she replied. “Especially when you’re around Frank. You’re always tense and you never touch him or usually let him touch you. And when you’re not trying to appear happy, you just have a desolate look about you. Like you’re utterly miserable, but you’re trying so hard to cover it up.” 

Claire raised her eyebrows. “I suppose I thought I was doing a better job of hiding it in public,” she admitted. 

Louise reached out and took Claire’s hand. “You do. Whenever we’re at parties together, you sell it. To people who don’t know you, you seem happy. But the more I get to know you, the more of yourself you show me.” Louise shot her a look of sympathy. “And I’m sorry if I was blunt, but you just don’t seem very happy.” 

Claire took a deep breath, setting her tea down. “That’s because I’m not.” 

“Was it the war?” Louise asked. “I know my husband was so desperate to forget about the war that he moved us from France to England and he got his job at Oxford. Was it like that?” 

“No,” Claire replied. She tilted her head, trying to find the best way to describe it. “Well, yes and no. I’ve lost a lot. Both during the war and after it, I lost all of my family.” 

“Except Frank,” Louise pointed out. Claire’s silence was reply enough. Louise sat forward and held Claire’s hand, trying to meet her eye line. “Claire, you seem like you have so much you want to say and yet can’t. I promise you that I won’t tell anyone. But why don’t you tell me what’s bothering you.” 

“Frank wouldn’t like that,” Claire whispered. 

“Well Frank isn’t here,” Louise reminded her. Claire looked up to see the other woman watching her. She could tell by the look on her face that Louise wasn’t going to let it go. “Was there someone else during the war?” 

Claire closed her eyes. “Yes and no. I didn’t realize it at the time, but yes.” 

“What does that mean?” 

“It started in October,” Claire began. She shook her head. “Well, really it started before that. It started the moment Frank…” she cleared her throat, trying to talk past the lump that had formed there. “It started when Frank began to hit me.” Louise’s face fell. It urged Claire to continue. “I ran away from him and ended up running right back to the man I knew during the war.” She took a deep breath. “His name is Jamie.” 

Louise nodded for her to continue and the whole story came pouring out of Claire. She told her about the abuse and running away. About finding Jamie, and the Murrays taking her in. She talked about Ned and trying to get a divorce without seeing Frank. She cried as she reached the devastating end and how she landed back in Oxford. She didn’t realize until that moment how much she’d needed to talk to someone about what she’d been through. Louise wiped a few tears away as Claire finished her story. 

“My God, ma chere,” she breathed.  “How do you do it? How do you live this life with him?” 

Claire felt a tear of her own fall down her cheek. “I have no choice. It’s what I have to do to keep those I love safe.” 

Louise shook her head. “That’s not right. People need to know what kind of man he is. You could be free of him. You could go back to Scotland!” 

Claire closed her eyes. “It wouldn’t work. He hasn’t hurt me since I’ve been back. But if I threaten to leave, he will. I know it would be the breaking point.” Louise breathed out a sigh. “Believe it or not, it helps to just have someone know the truth.” 

Louise gave Claire a sad smile as she reached out and held her hand. “You have my secrecy and my support. But know, I want nothing more than to see you traipse back off to Scotland. You’re far too good, Claire. And you deserve it.” 

Claire squeezed her hand. “I appreciate that. I just don’t think it’ll ever happen. I think I’m stuck here until Frank’s next whim takes him somewhere else.” 

“Well, anytime you need to talk, I’ll be here. Just across the street,” Louise assured her. 

* * *

February rolled into March and time still passed all too slowly for Claire. Spending time with Louise could be a good distraction, but nothing could take Claire’s mind off of Jamie. She missed him with every fiber of her being. There were many afternoons that she’d walk by the phone and stare at it, all the while contemplating calling Lallybroch. A few times, she picked up the receiver but couldn’t make herself dial. They deserved peace and she couldn’t offer them that. Talking to Jamie might be good in the moment, but it would only make it hurt worse when they hung up. 

She never called him, but she often dreamed of him. Sometimes the dreams were so vivid, she woke up thinking it was real. When she found herself back on the couch, it was a quick reminder of her true situation. She’d picture so many different things in the dreams. Sometimes they were walking hand in hand through the fields or sitting by the fire. Occasionally she’d be back sitting by his cot in the medical tent. The worst nights were when her dreams reminded her of the passion between them. She’d wake up, still feeling him against her, only to be alone. 

The only comfort when her desolation became too much was being able to talk to Louise. The woman always lent her ear and offered consolation. There was nothing Louise could do to fix Claire’s situation, but she did her best to help offer support. 

It was late March when Frank informed Claire that they were hosting one of his colleagues and the man’s wife for dinner. Claire plastered on a fake smile and agreed to have it all ready. When Friday evening arrived, she’d thrown together a pretty good looking meal. She mentally sent a word of thanks to Mrs. Fitz for the help. The evening seemed to go well. Frank looked pleased enough. He was caught up in conversation with his colleague as Claire bussed the table. The man’s wife grabbed a few dishes and followed Claire into the kitchen. 

“Claire, this was just delicious,” the woman said. “Thank you so much!” 

Claire smiled back at her. “Thank you, Mary. I’m so glad you enjoyed it.” 

The two women sat down in the kitchen, letting the men have the dining room to talk history. 

“You have a lovely home here.” 

Claire looked around the kitchen, nodding to herself. “Thank you. It’s a sweet little house.” 

“It is,” Mary agreed. “Must be perfect for a growing family.” 

Claire choked on her drink. “I’m sorry?” 

“Oh, pardon me,” Mary said with a wave of her hand. “I just assumed that sometime soon you and Frank would start a family.” 

Claire took a deep breath, fighting off the horror rising within her. “Since the war, we haven’t really talked about it, honestly.” 

“The war’s been over for almost a year now,” Mary reminded her. 

With a nod, Claire agreed. “Yes, but we were both in it. And we just haven’t brought it up yet.” 

Mary seemed to finally sense Claire’s apprehension and nodded. “Well maybe someday will feel like the right time to start a family. It’s such a wonderful experience for a couple.” 

Claire flashed her a fake smile. “I’m sure so. Seems wonderful, indeed.” 

She let Mary prattle on about something else while her mind began to wander. Thankfully, the visiting couple didn’t stay too long into the evening. When Frank was heading to bed, Claire begged off by saying she was cleaning up the kitchen. She took her time, making sure everything was sparkling. But after that, she laid down on the couch, not even pretending to join Frank in bed. Her mind was racing from thought to thought at a dangerous pace. 

Sitting up, she realized her life in England wasn’t sustainable. When Mary had asked Claire about children, she almost physically rejected the idea. She’d always wanted children, and for a while had wanted Frank’s children. But now, the idea of raising a child with a man who could so easily turn violent terrified her. If she could barely stand to be around Frank for fear of him hurting her, she could never do that to her child. Her breath grew short as a series of realizations continued to hit her. By the end of the night, her mind was made up. 

She had to leave Frank. 

* * *

Two days later, Claire knocked incessantly on Louise’s door. Louise almost looked annoyed as she opened the door until she saw it was Claire. “What’s going on?” 

“I need your help,” Claire said, nearly out of breath. Her nerves were getting the best of her. “I have two errands I have to run today and I don’t want to go alone.” 

Louise simply nodded, grabbing her purse from inside and walking out with Claire. “Okay, so where are we going.” 

“The second stop is the bank,” Claire told her. 

Louise stopped in front of Claire’s car, nodding to process it all. “Okay. And what’s the first stop?” Her eyes went wide as Claire told her the first place they’d be going. 

It was a full week later when Claire got the call she’d been waiting on. Everything had been in place, but with confirmation, suddenly it all seemed more real. Each day for a week, Louise had come over to help her slowly pack her things. There hadn’t been too much she’d actually wanted to hold onto. They’d taken them over and stashed boxes at Louise’s house. It went so slowly that Frank didn’t seem to notice. All that was left was her clothes. With the call, Claire sent the message over to Louise and she came scurrying over to help Claire do the final steps of packing. 

“Now, the car you have is yours, right?” Louise asked. 

“It was my Uncle Lamb’s and he left it to me,” Claire told her. “So everything can go in the car and I’ll be ready to go.” 

Louise seemed as nervous as Claire. “Are you sure you don’t want me here when you tell him? Just as a precaution?” 

Claire had weighed the idea when Louise had originally pitched it. Ultimately, she’d decided she needed to do it herself. If she was ever going to truly leave Frank, she needed to have the courage to do it on her own. No secrets, no running away. Just facing him and laying out her best options. 

“I still appreciate the offer, but no.” She sighed. “I have to do this myself.” 

“What if he hurts you?” Louise whispered. 

Claire swallowed past the lump in her throat as she snapped her suitcase shut. “Then when I can, I’ll come over to you. But I really don’t think it’ll come to that.” 

“You seem awfully optimistic.” 

“I don’t know why, but I feel like it,” Claire admitted. “It feels like it’s finally the time. Things are lined up and ready. I have all my arguments in order. I feel like I can do this. I can get him to agree.” 

Louise snapped the last suitcase shut and looked over at Claire. She pulled her into a big hug. “Good luck, ma chere. I wish you nothing but the best.” 

Claire nodded at her friend. “Thank you.” 

“You have to write me, you know?” Louise demanded. 

Claire smiled. “I promise I will. I just have to get out of here first.” 

Louise gave her another hug at the door. The two women exchanged a nod before Louise turned and went back to her house. 

Claire put the two suitcases by the door and waited for Frank to get home. Her nerves were getting the better of her and she started to pace. When she heard his car pull into the driveway, she made herself sit down at the table. Her fingers drummed on the top as she waited for him to walk in. 

The door opened and he put his keys on the table by the door. As he looked down, he noticed the two suitcases. Slowly, he closed the door and looked over to Claire. “Are we going somewhere, Darling?” 

“We’re not. I am,” Claire said, mustering all the courage she had. 

Frank laughed, walking closer to the table. “Oh? And where do you think you’re going.” 

“Wherever the fuck I want,” she answered. She stood and slapped the envelope down on the table between them. 

Frank’s brows knitted together as he picked up the envelope. Looking inside, fury crossed his face. “What the hell are these?” 

“You’ve seen them before. They’re the divorce papers,” Claire told him. “You’re going to sign them.” 

“No, I bloody won’t,” Frank denied. “How did you get these? I burned them!” 

“Did you honestly think those were the only copy?” she asked. She was proud of how calm and measured her voice sounded. Inside, her heart was racing and her nerves were fried. 

“Claire, do you really think you’re just going to walk away from me?” Frank demanded. “I’ve been good to you. Since you came back, I’ve been good to you, damn it!” 

Claire shook her head at him. “Frank, I have no future here. I can’t sleep in the same bed as you because I’m terrified of your touch. Have you not noticed how I shrink away every time you try to touch me? You destroyed the marriage we had, Frank. The Claire you were married to is gone. Our marriage has been fractured since the moment you hit me.” 

“But we restarted,” Frank argued. “You chose to come back with me and we restarted our marriage. I haven’t hurt you since then.” 

“It doesn’t matter!” Claire cried. “I’m always waiting for it. And you may have thought we restarted, but we didn’t. I’m getting by on fear and anxiety. And that’s no way to live. I can’t do this anymore, Frank. I can’t be constantly afraid to give you some sort of bad news because I think you’ll hurt me over it. That’s no marriage, Frank. That’s only fear.” She shook her head. “And I didn’t choose to come back with you Frank. You pointed a gun at me and someone I cared about and told me to come with you. My choice was eliminated the moment you put a threat on it.” 

“So, what, you’re just going to run right back to him?” Frank asked. “You don’t think I’d follow you and bring you back here again?” 

“I’m not running away this time,” Claire stated. “I’m letting you know now that I am leaving you.”

Frank looked back down at the papers. “I wouldn’t sign them before. What makes you think I’m actually going to do so now?” 

“Because of Oxford. You’re so very proud to be working at such a prestigious university. How do you think your bosses would react to knowing you like to beat your wife, sometimes within an inch of her life?” Claire asked, tilting her head and narrowing her eyes at him. “And if that’s not enough, there’s always law enforcement. I could lodge a formal report about the abuse I’ve suffered at the hands of my husband.” 

He seethed. “You wouldn’t. Besides, you have no proof.” 

“No proof?” Claire asked, a dark laugh escaping her. “Sober Frank may have been smart enough to only leave marks that would fade, but I’m afraid Drunk Frank left me marked forever.” She reached around and touched the scar on her shoulder. “Broken beer bottles aren’t very good for the skin, dear.” 

He looked genuinely shocked to know she had a scar. “So, what? You’d tell my employers? You think they’d fire me?” He didn’t seem to care about her threat to take it to the police.

“You made them push back your start date. You had that argument early on with the dean. I have to wonder if this sort of information would be the last straw. I wonder if they’d think it was too risky to keep you on staff,” Claire mused. “Sign the papers or I talk. To whoever is willing to listen.” 

Frank glared at her. “If you’re so scared of me, why do this?” 

“Because I want my bloody freedom. This isn’t the life I want. And I’m tired of it. Sign the fucking papers, Frank. This isn’t love anymore. Keep your reputation and give me my freedom. Seems like an equal trade here.” Claire slid the pen down the table to him. 

Frank watched her for a long moment. She could tell he was weighing everything he said. His eyes roved over her like he was trying to see through her to the scar on her back. “What’s to stop you from trying to ruin my life once I sign these papers?” 

Claire shook her head at him. “I’m not you, Frank. I don’t want you to hurt. I just don’t want to hurt anymore. You sign those papers and you buy my silence.” 

He took a deep breath and blew it out. Finally, he picked up the pen and pulled out the papers. He shook his head the entire time he signed on each line. Throwing the pen down on the table, he walked away from her and into the kitchen. Claire ran over and stuffed the papers back in the envelope, sticking them in her suitcase before he could change his mind and destroy them. 

He walked back into the room as she was opening the door. She picked up her suitcases, trying to decide what to say to him. “I have to ask,” she finally said, “do you feel sorry about any of it?” 

Frank sneered at her. “The war changed me, Claire.” 

Claire breathed out a sad laugh. “The war changed me, too, Frank.” She clutched her suitcases tighter in her hands. “You just didn’t care enough to notice.” She set one suitcase down and closed the door behind her. She breathed out a true sigh of relief for the first time in months. There was a long road ahead of her, but she was hopeful again for the first time since January. The haze had lifted, and she could finally regain the future she wanted. 

As she turned the key in the car and heard the engine roar, a smile crossed her face. She pulled away from the house in Oxford with room for a family to grow. Pulling out onto the road, she headed for the place where a family already awaited her. 

Her trip back to Scotland took her longer than it did when Frank was driving her away three months ago. She took her time and made a very important stop in Edinburgh on the way. Feeling truly free, she crested the final hill and paused. Putting the car in park, she stared at the house for a moment. A smile grew on her face as she started to drive again, rain pouring down around her. It was just like the first time she’d gone there. But this time, she was finally heading home.

Next chapter

[homenum-revelio-hq]

Welcome (again) to the Order of the Phoenix, Kat!

You have been accepted for the role of ISLA SELWYN-MACMILLAN! We really enjoyed reading the motivations behind Isla’s decisions to join the Order and stay in the Order. We like that she’d been questioning her place until the recent capture which, instead of pushing her away, ended up pulling her more in! We’re looking forward to having her on the dash!

Please take a look at the new member checklist and send in your account within 24 hours! Thank you for joining the fight against Voldemort!

OUT OF CHARACTER:

NAME: tis I kat

AGE: 25

TIMEZONE: est

ACTIVITY LEVEL: what are activity levels? It is here and there but I love yall and I am here for the long haul ya feel?

ANYTHING ELSE: I have experience writing overly sad things too late at night does that help my qualifications?

CHARACTER DETAILS:

NAME: Isla Slewyn-Macmillan

AGE: 25

GENDER, PRONOUNS, and SEXUALITY: cisfemale, she/her, asexual Isla has never felt the need for a sexual relationship. She feels some attraction at times but the thought of having a romantic partner at any point in time has never appealed to her.

BLOOD STATUS: Pureblood

HOUSE ALUMNI: Gryffindor

ANY CHANGES: nope

CHARACTER BACKGROUND:

PERSONALITY: 

Isla has never been weak. Never the type to be a wilting flower and yet she has had to play at it for most of her life. Her family always having been indulgent with her she was allowed the freedom to rebel as long as she toed the line that was so clearly set before her. She would rail against any kind of limitation given to her and yet she has always known her place. She has always worked her charms to get what she desired and when the reins were held too tightly a pretty smile or whispered word would loosen them once more. At least it lasted that way through her childhood. Lasted through her schooling. Through her short lived career as a beater. Limitation cannot be escaped forever though and the insistence of her parents to settle down. To take up the responsibilities that were hers by birth right had her wilting herself just a touch once more. 

Isla is known for her fiery spirit to those closest to her. Though her inner circle is small and those she places her trust in even smaller. On the outside to the world at large she Is a quiet proper young woman. Her fire shows through at times but it is tempered and she is the picture of what she was raised to be. She moves with grace through the elite in society. It is her natural birthright to do so and so she has no fears when attending a party. Whispered confidence wraps around her and she is prepared for all things that may be thrown at her.

Headstrong and vibrant she’s always been a leader. She has never known how to follow anyone else and perhaps that is part of the reason she harbors doubts about the order. She watches in dismay as the leadership seems to drive them more and more off course and she can’t help but wonder if she had more of a voice if it would be different. The inexperience keeps her quiet. Holds her tongue. She watches. Listens. Observes. Gains knowledge that she can pull out at a moments notice later.  

BRIEF OVERVIEW OF FAMILY: 

The golden child. Isla could do no wrong in the eyes of her family. They were well respected and it offered them more room to do as they wished. Isla grew up with that freedom. With the assurance that while others in her circle were nothing but a disappointment to their parents she was the only thing her family wished for. She grew with many cousins. All of them constantly at her home and she would play with them often. They would spend hours just running through the gardens and causing as much trouble as they could.

She was a happy child. A happy child all throughout her life. Even when she was sent off to school her parents would dote on her. They would encourage her in her odd endeavors. They would make special trips to attend the quidditch games that she insisted she loved more than anything. Her grades were kept up and the rebelling that she did in school was of little concern for a family such as hers.

They were the elite. The highest of the high or at least high enough that some odd quirks from the daughter wouldn’t be looked at too closely. She was raised knowing she was better. Knowing that those with blood not as pure as hers were of little value. Though she had never been raised to be cruel she did know the look of indifference. The refusal of regarding one who could not possibly hope to meet her level.

After graduating she rebelled still. Not wishing to settle down she decided to play Quidditch instead. She would do as she wished for after all she was the only daughter of one of the most powerful families. She played for several years happiness found in her victory on the field. When her star was starting to rise to a higher point though her parents put a stop to it. They could no longer allow her to act as she wished. It was time to take her rightful place in the world. It was time to marry.

Enter her closest friend Archie. The only one she could see spending so much of her life with though she knew she would never love him as a wife was to love her husband. It was with relief that she heard his confession. Marriage with him has been as much bliss as she could ever hope to find in such an arrangement and it has satisfied her family for now.

OCCUPATION: 

Housewife though the very thought irks her beyond imagining. She regrets that she no longer has her promising career but appearances must be kept regardless of if she has joined the order or not she must appear the perfect pureblood girl.

ROLE WITHIN THE ORDER/THOUGHTS ABOUT THE ORDER: 

The thought of being part of something that is not supposed to be is a draw more than a deterrent for Isla. She has spent her whole life rebelling against the rules laid against her. Up to a point anyhow. The order represents something that she believes. At least it always used to. With each failure there’s a part of her that wonders if they made the wrong choice with joining. Her recent kidnapping though it was brief has left a foul taste in her mouth though. She knows they are on the right side. It has strengthened her resolve to make this work. That this is the way to keep the old ways from coming back. The old ways that she cannot stand to live in once more. The people in the order are good though she still sees the distrust in the eyes of some of those who surround her. She knows that her name is what they whisper about. So prominent a name in the order. The same ticket that would normally save her from any suspicion with her peers put her into suspicion with those she chose to work with.

Isla hopes that the order can be more successful in the future. The longer she resides in the order the more that she learns that she cannot turn back. This is her life now. This is her future. The fate of the order is to be her fate and most of her would have it no other way. She’s always been a fighter and she isn’t prepared to stop now.

SURVIVAL: 

Until recently Isla has moved among the two worlds with ease. Never having been suspected to be anything connected with the order and certainly not part of the death eaters she had lived her life in relative peace. Though the recent capture of her and her husband has her worried that the death eaters will start to look upon them with suspicion and she wonders if they should be preparing for more questioning.

RELATIONSHIPS: 

Isla first and foremost is loyal to Archie. Though she is the one in their duo always forging ahead and making the decisions his words are the ones she cares for most. She adores him more than anything and he is her ride or die. She wishes happiness for him but she fears that the romantic in him is going to land him into a world a hurt.

Isla adores Ryalnd more than she can even say. She has developed a sisterly relationship with him and she wants nothing more than to help him through the hard time that he has been having since returning to the fold. She fears that he won’t ever be able to fully move past it. She believes him to be one of the kindest people she has ever met.

She finds Andromeda to be a fascination. The woman was always a warning to her and the girls her age. The whispers of never doing what the woman has done were always present but Isla wants to get to know her more. She wants to learn the mind of woman.

The order overall is where her loyalty lies and she has proved it more than once. She still feels some friction with those in the inner circle but finds that she is able to move among those in mid and lower level positions with more ease. Perhaps even able to drop her guard just a touch around them.  

OOC EXPLORATION:

SHIPS/ANTI-SHIPS: IslaxIsla? Idk lol I don’t see her as a ship character at all but if the chemistry is right she’s not opposed to falling in love.

WHAT PRIVILEGES AND BIASES DOES YOUR CHARACTER HAVE?

Isla is well aware that she has lived a privileged life. She has known it her entire life and yet it was only when she joined the order that it was shown to her just how much has been handed to her. How much is still handed to her. She expects things to be given to her with ease. It has been that way all her life and she has never thought that it would change. She looks down upon those who are not pureblood because that is the way that she was raised. She is aware that the order fights for those who are the very ones she looks down on but she cannot help it. Joining the order was in part a selfish cause and she cannot drop everything that has been pushed into her since she could remember. Though she tries more now to be understanding. To now be quite so cold to those who surround her. After all most of her companions now are people she would never have dreamed of speaking to. She finds that she still tends to treat some of them life servants in a way. Ordering them about before catching herself and offering one of her signature smiles that would naturally wash her sins away. Isla is a hypocrite through and through. Once her outer shell is cracked and someone has wormed their way into her heart. Into her graces they can be anything they wish. Muggle born. Half blood somehow her affection for them covers those flaws that she would hold against anyone else.

WHAT ARE YOU MOST LOOKING FORWARD TO? I love you guys so much I cannot control the need to pick up another character. I am looking forward to everything.

PLOT DROP IDEAS: I don’t know you guys. Yall were not very nice with the most recent happenings on the dash. <.<  

ANYTHING ELSE? I love you guys so much I cry.

[thefieryeclipse]

Hero(in)es

Appreciation post of how Heroes handled its many great female characters

Claire Bennet

She could easily have been the Dumb Blonde Teenager, the bully, the girl who dies gruesomely in the horror movie, or the hyper sexualized cheerleader. 

Instead we got a strong, stubborn, confident young woman who was kind and (at least for the most part!) good. Yeah, she was spoiled at times, but more importantly she was brave, she was resilient as hell - and can we appreciate that the creators gave the power of regeneration, to literally bounce back from any physical damage, to the character who in any other show might have always been just the pretty, young victim? Claire got one of the strongest abilities of the bunch, given to the teenage cheerleader rather than someone like, for example, Wolverine.

Niki Sanders

The single mother, the alcoholic, the internet stripper, struggling so badly to support her son that the utilities in her house are shut off. 

Niki could far too easily have been a mass of cliches and stereotypes that we’ve all seen before: a struggling damsel who just happens to be drop-dead gorgeous, and all she needs is a man to take pity on her, woo her, and suddenly all her problems disappear. Instead we got a fierce af, compassionate woman who does it all by herself (not including Jessica, of course), who has what it takes to do what she must, even if it’s not pretty. Not to mention the archetype of poor, vulnerable, stripper eye-candy was given super strength, arguably the most conventionally masculine power out there. Just think of Mr Incredible vs Niki Sanders!

Angela Petrelli

Now where to begin with Angela Petrelli...? Instead of just a selfish, sock-stealing wealthy widow or a clueless mother, we get this fabulous force not to be reckoned with.

Not only has Angela known about abilities and the exploding man the whole time, but she’s got a hand in everything - including events that haven’t even happened yet. Where Angela could have been sidelined as just ambitious for Nathan’s career or over-looking Peter and his dreams, instead we get the most tenacious, deliberate, intelligent, powerful woman who isn’t hindered in any way by being older than 50 (cause y’know, in TV land, god forbid). Angela is a league above and ten steps ahead of everyone else in-world, and seemingly does all this effortlessly without bothering a hair on her perfectly styled head.

Elle Bishop

The quirky, pretty, sweet but deadly, damaged and slightly crazy “bad girl”. 

But she’s so much more than this. She’s a survivor of horrendous abuse growing up, she’s strong enough to go off on her own and get sh*t done. Elle is damaged, yes, but she’s not ruined. She still cares, she still feels remorse (sometimes XP), and she’s not a victim. She’s her own person, conflicted and still growing, she’s not totally jaded by her past or so tortured that she’s been turned “evil” by it. Elle has the capacity to be badass, to be wounded, to giggle in delight, to cry, to hate, to love and to be all of these things at once, most of which we wouldn’t normally get in such dimension from the “crazy cute girl” trope.

Tracy Strauss

The ambitious, heartless career woman who sleeps her way up the corporate ladder.

Only, she isn’t that character. She’s confident, yes, hard-working, extremely good at her job and doesn’t feel the need to apologise for this. But she’s also much more than her career: Tracy upends her whole life after the revelation of her ability. She’s capable and can be ruthless, but also struggles with guilt and belonging. Secretly she’s remorseful, and just wants somewhere to feel like home. She doesn’t need a love interest, she doesn’t need her fancy job and over-priced martinis. And when scorned, Tracy becomes one of the most capable killers in the show. So much more than just a pretty woman in a pencil skirt.

Monica Dawson

The struggling young waitress who’s saving up money to get out of town and start her own life.

Instead of an empty trope, we get a kind young woman with a big heart, who’s dealing with the recent loss of her mother and helping raise her brother and cousin while supporting her family financially. Monica isn’t bratty or ungrateful, she’s generous and hard-working and tough as anything to keep powering on like she does. And that’s before we even factor in her ability to copycat everything she sees. Monica is unparalleled, unrestrained, unstoppable if she wants to be. She could do anything and imitate anyone in a fight. She won’t be beaten. And she won’t stand by and watch horrible things happen to good people. Her difficulties at home haven’t ruined her, and she’s never once portrayed as just a “poor soul”. Plus, remember this kick???

Sandra Bennet

She could easily have remained as just a ditzy housewife who’s always kept out of the loop and obsessed with her, insanely adorable, dog.

But Sandra blossoms as a character. She’s thoughtful and shamelessly loving (and is the only person who even remembers Lyle exists), she puts herself in danger to protect a perfect stranger from the authorities, and is strong enough to leave the husband who she’s loved and been mentally abused by for decades. Sandra was lied to, manipulated, under-estimated, held at gunpoint more than once, had her memories wiped without consent so many times she was hospitalized, and still she doesn’t stay down. She can and has raised two kids practically on her own, runs a warm and comfortable household, owns an award winning show dog, lives through the “death” of her daughter (twice) and husband, and the revelation of a secret world she didn’t know existed. And the show was good enough to give her a happy ending with a sweet guy who loves their dogs just as much as Sandra does, rather than keep her sidelined as a heartbroken divorcee put on hold for Noah forever.

And there’s so much more: 

Daphne, not just her disability

Emma, not just the grieving deaf woman in need of saving

Heidi, not just the cheated-on politician’s wife

Maya, not just a naive victim who falls for Sylar’s tricks

Plus Molly, Charlie, Simone, Lauren, Gretchen, Eden, Lydia, Kimiko and all the others who were never treated as “just the women” to the male superheroes’ stories, but as their own, often subversive, characters who each drove the plot forward at one point or another.

This show deserves all the love, and made all this seem effortless even back in 2006.

[idkwhoiamanymorebutwtf]

Psycho Analyzing: Eggs Benifits

While the kids' parenting style showed a bit about them, I think it showed more about their families, really.

For example, Nurf was abusive towards Preston. This was likely due to the obvious abuse from his uncle, who was bad enough for Child Protective Services to be involved. However, with the egg, Nurf was so much less explosive. His mother is in jail. She's violent. But with Nurf? She's as good a mother as any. And of course, his dad wad never around, which amplifies his need to be there for his own son.

Then there's preston. He let Nurf abuse him- not that it was his fault, victim blaming isn't condoned here- but he seemed to be a bit meek and immediately went along with Nurf. This is probably caused by one of two things. Either his own parents were in a similar relationship (which could be why he lives with his grandmother. If his mother left or was killed and if his father was arrested or killed-), which would lead to him picking this behavior up from them, or his parents were never around. His grandmother,,though she is incredible, bless her soul, certainly doesn't strike me as a strong role model. If his parents were NEVER around, Preston likely doesn't know what a stable family structure is like, and a lot of people in those situations do follow whatever they're taught is how a family should look. So when Nurf started shoving him around, Preston would have no reason to think that isn't how parents were meant to act. I think the latter is a stronger possibility, as Preston didn't assume the role of an abused housewife until after Nurf showed abusive behaviors, implying that wasn't something he'd been exposed to before, but that he is vulnerable to anything he's exposed to, meaning his parents have likely been gone from the start. I think his love for theatre may even stem from a psychological connection formed with it directly resulting from a lack of any other role models in his life.

Next let's talk about Ered. She has a very stable home life. Her dad's are "cool", they seem to encourage her passion for extreme sports and the only downside I see is that they may be too loose with her. I mean, I'm not saying that makes them bad parents. It's just that every parent has flaws. As stated in the episode, there isn't really a right way to do any of it, and everyone's going to mess up somewhere. And the shortcomings of her dad's come through in Ered's own parenting. They put too much faith in letting her do her own thing. They sent her to Camp Campbell for her extreme sports camp despite the fact that Cameron is literally a dangerous criminal. However I also think Ered and her dad's have different reasons for being so easygoing (to a fault). Ered is into extreme sports. With that as your hobby, you learn that pain is part of the game, so she was unconcerned when her egg broke because that's how you learn. You learn by messing up. Meanwhile her own dad's seem to leave her to her own devices because, well..they let her get away with too much. They seem to view her as perfect. Ered's allowed to do what she wants by them and is always given positive reinforcement. She apparently had awful grades in school but was still sent to extreme sports camp! In the end, this really solidifies the fact that her dad's are too lenient, which is likely the cause of her behavioral issues with manipulating, using, and insulting other's.

Dolph is distinctly, pointedly, not like his own father. Dolph doesn't want to constrain his egg. He wants the egg to be a free spirit and do whatever he wants to do with his life. This is him going against his father, who thinks his passion for art is lame. Dolph is trying so hard NOT to be like his father. However, Dolph also seems to show a want to live through his own child. He paints on the egg and insists he's going to be "an artist/pro skater!" Which does allow bits of how Dolph himself was raised to shine through in a need for father to live through son, weather Dolph means to push his dreams onto the egg or not. And I do doubt he means to. He genuinely seems to think it's what his kid wants for himself, and that's something a lot of parents do when the project onto their kids, because often they're pushing what they want unintentionally.

Next we have Nerris. She's imitating her parents in a few ways. Now, look. She has good parents. A stable life. She was pushing her goals on her age, but only because it's how she and her father bonded, and she wants to bond with her kid too. Her lecturing of Harrison seemed reminiscent of how her mother seems to scold her father when he steps out of line (note the difference is that Nerris was being spiteful while her mother is normally just a bit exhasperated. Nerris and Harrison's arguing was distinctly different from the interactions between Nerris' parents.) Nerris was trying to be like her parents, very good people to aspire to parent like. Nerris just misinterpreted how to do that.

Harrison is interesting. I think people don't give his parents enough credit. Yeah, they're afraid of him. But it's not like he just does tricks. He made his brother disappear! If I did that my parents would leave me in the fucking woods to fend for myself! But Harrison's sent him to a camp to control his power's and them even bothered to show up for parents day. They care about him, and their fear is absolutely justified. Just going by lines such as "my mom says I'll grow into my looks" and "I can't wait to tell my mother!!" From Harrison, his parents were fine before the whole thing! That being said, though, they don't support him enough. For good reason or not, they don't paint his passion for magic in a good light. Hence why he defended his own egg so fiercely and put so much value in him having fun.

Now let's talk Space Kid. He's an enigma. He was very passive, relenting to whatever Neil wanted for their kid. He clearly has both parents in his life to some extent, seeing as in Parents Day he referred to them in plural, as in, both his parents. I am, though, lead to believe that his mother isn't very prominant in his life. Maybe she's neglectful or doesn't have custody rights over him or maybe She's just too busy. She seems to show up to things sometimes or he wouldn't even think to bring both his parents up..ever. But he also clings to Gwen as a mother figure of sorts and asked Muriel in Camp Corp if she was their "new mom." Of course, we can only speculate on his parents. Maybe his mother is a business woman too busy for him and his father is weak willed and does whatever she asks. Maybe she lost custody of him one way or another and his father is meek under his families preassure. One way or another, though, his mother isn't around enough and his father takes on a role much like Space Kid did in Eggs Benifits, submitting to someone else when it comes to his kid.

Neil is an odd case too. His dad did seem rather clingy. But not to the point that would inspire the level of helicopter parenting Neil displayed. But then, I got to thinking about his mother. She and Carl are divorced. She tries to buy Neil's love and is seemingly the sole recipient of his familial affection. I feel she is rather possessive of him. Not to the same level as Neil was, but enough to spur that behavior in him. I wouldn't be shocked if Neil's distaste for Carl also came from his mother's possible manipulation. Neil seems to want to be as far from his dad as possible, hence how he cranks everything up to eleven, being paranoid and posessive to an extreme as opposed to his easy going father.

With Max it's easy to see his parent's influence. They're neglectful. Maybe even physically abusive. At first his behavior just seemed to mirror theirs. But then I got to thinking. Max is a good person, deep down. He wouldn't fuck up something in his care like that. So then I thought Max probably really did just think the whole thing was dumb because it wasn't real. He seems much more mature than the other kids in that sense. But as one of the most recent episodes, where Max goes full on detective, goes to show, he doesn't have that much of an issue playing along unless he's got something else to do. So I thought...he was probably frightened. I mean, neglect and abuse victims usually are when they're given a kid, are you kidding me? He was sure he was going to mess up so he thought it'd be better to let Nikki do things alone. This really leads me to think his parents are abusive and not just neglectful. Because if his parents fucked him up by leaving him to care for himself and nothing else, I doubt he'd choose to avoid the egg like that. But if his parenta actually /hurt/ him, physically or mentally, he'd be afraid of doing the same. And this is only solidified for me by the ending where he DID come around and he DID care about the egg when it hatched, meaning his fear of messing things up is most likely why he did avoid responsibility for the egg. So yeah, he's being abused.

Finally Nikki. She REALLY seems to have a bad father. Every time she mentions him it's him doing something ranging from mmildly awkward to pretty fucked up. Like talking about hookers in front of your young daughter. Nikki's behavior here, though, seemed much like her mother. I'm a STRONG defender of Candy. She signed Nikki up to a camp she knew her daughter would enjoy, and it's not her fault it turned out to be a scam, she turned up to parents day, even if she was a bit distracted, and aparently she had Nikki go bird watching with her, showing that she does spend time with her daughter. And she was apparently responsible enough to get full custody of her kid in the divorce. Sure, Candy's a gold digger, but that has nothing to do with her love for Nikki, and yeah, she dismissed Nikki being chased out by the flower scouts as a "silly little adventure", but Nikki is prone to dramatics. Nikki talks enough about Candy to show that she is around. But it's very, very likely that, like Nikki, she has no idea what the hell she's doing. That she's scared and doesn't know what's right and what's wrong. Being a single mother is hard, and it's clear that Candy isn't the most well off financially. I really think she's really just lost on how to do things like Nikki was in this episode.

Please tell me what y'all think and give me your own interpretations of their families. :)

[heyyyharry]

Make A Wish

(from the Flatmate!Harry Series)

…in which Harry plans a birthday party for Y/N, and he has a helping hand.

I’m too tired to proofread this before posting so I don’t know if this sucks, hopefully it doesn’t (not too hard at least).

.

It’s Y/N’s birthday today

And Harry is excited.

He loves spoiling his girl and seeing a big smile on her face, even though her mouth is saying ‘you shouldn’t have’.

He just loves her so much it feels surreal sometimes.

This is Y/N’s third birthday since they moved into this flat. On the first one, Harry and Y/N weren’t together yet. He bought her a cake and waited for her to come back, only to receive a text saying she was staying at her parents’, and they’d already thrown her a big party and invited all of her relatives. He couldn’t blame her for choosing her family over him. He hadn’t told her about his plan anyway, and based on their relationship back then, him buying her a cake was very unexpected.

On her second birthday here, they were already together. Harry decided to make her a cake, which ended up tasting like…well, there wasn’t a correct comparison for such a disgusting taste so…yeah. He didn’t want her to get food poisoning on her birthday, that’s why the cake ended up in the rubbish bin and he made Niall go buy a new one while he decorated the flat. He was more shocked to see her reaction that night, than she was when she walked into a living room full of balloons and candles (he had a hard time cleaning up the candle wax on the floor but it was worth it).

“You shouldn’t have,” she said with a big smile on her face as she showered his face with kisses. They ate the (store-bought) cake, unwrapped the present, and made love all night. The next day, Harry woke up with the determination to throw her an even bigger birthday party the following year, which is this one. His girl has to be the happiest and he has to make that happen.

Things seem to start out well for Harry when the first news he hears in the morning is that Y/N’s best friends from high school are paying her a visit. That means she will be occupied the entire day and he has the whole flat to prepare for the party which he has planned for a really long time.

“Baby, don’t come home too soon,” he says, walking her out of their front door and she just smiles at him.

“Don’t hire a whole band or something as crazy as that. I only want you,” she tells him, pressing her lips against his while holding his face dearly.

“Okay, got it, nothing too crazy,” he promises then kisses her nose and watches her walk towards the lift. Once she’s gone, he immediately makes a call to cancel the band he hired for her.

…

Layla arrives not so long after Y/N was gone. When Harry comes to open the door, he’s already wearing an apron, all eager to get started baking that perfect birthday cake he failed to give his girl last year.

“Look at you, all dressed up like a pretty housewife,” Layla jokes and playfully pinches Harry’s cheek.

“I’ve told you to stop doing that, it hurts!” He brushes her hand away, slightly annoyed, which only amuses his friend. She walks past him and heads straight to the kitchen. Now that she’s so familiar with the flat it’s basically like her own.

“Okay, have you bought all the ingredients I’ve told you?” She asks, laying both hands flat on the marble counter, looking at Harry, who’s standing at the door.

“I forgot the eggs, Niall’s out to buy some.”

“You’ve got to stop mistreating my boyfriend, Styles!”

“Me?” Harry widens his eyes, pointing a finger to himself. “Last week you made my girlfriend stay up until morning to help you get those shoes on sale.”

Layla purses her lips, thinking for a second. 

“Let’s face it, we don’t deserve them,” she admits.

“Both of them,” Harry adds in, smiling as he does. 

“I saw her on the way up,” Layla tells him all of a sudden, searching through the paper bags on the counter to check if Harry has bought the correct ingredients. “She didn’t see me. She was laughing with her two friends from high school. They seemed…nice.”

Harry leans a shoulder against the doorframe as he stares at his friend in amusement after hearing what she said. “Okay, what is it?”

“What do you mean what?”

“I know that tone.” Not only does he know it, he’s also way too familiar with it. “You’re jealous.”

“I am not!”

“You certainly are! You’re jealous of her best friends, aren’t you?” Harry cracks up. The moment Layla shoots him a dead glare, he knows right away that his assumption is correct. With his hands behind his back, he approaches her with a huge smirk on his face which he knows drives her mad. 

“Making fun of me all the time, and now you’re jealous!” He playfully sings each word, receiving an eye-roll from Layla.

“You’re a child, I’m not wasting my time talking to a child.”

“Well, if Y/N was here she would talk to me, too bad she’s out having fun with her. Best. Friends.”

“Okay, that’s it!” Layla huffs and grabs a carrot on the plate nearby, just about to toss it at him when they hear the doorbell ring. It cannot be Niall because he never rings the bell, but Harry isn’t expecting any other party guests, at least not this early.

So he leaves the kitchen to go see who it is. Surprisingly, it’s not anyone on Harry’s guest list. It’s the last person on Earth he would expected to show up at their door.

It’s Y/N’s mother.

“Mrs. Y/L/N!” Harry’s whole body turns to stone the second he sees her face. It’s been a long time since they last met at Y/N’s brother’s wedding. They didn’t speak then but he knew she still hated him for thinking he wasn’t a match for her daughter.

“Y/N is not home.”

“I know, she’s out with her friends, I asked them to take her out so I could come here,” the woman says calmly. 

There’s something about her that makes Harry feel so alarmed. He swallows hard when she takes in a sharp breath then lets it all out. 

“I’m here to see you.”

…

Niall bursts through the kitchen door with those eggs Harry asked him to buy. He’s all out of breath from but as soon as he enters the room, everyone’s already in the process of baking.

“You took too long! Lucky for us, Y/N’s mother brought some eggs,” Layla answers without waiting for her boyfriend to question. 

That’s when Niall finally notices the presence of a stranger in the kitchen, who’s instructing Harry how to properly beat the batter.

“Just leave those on the table young man,” she tells Niall without looking at him. “If Harry ruins this cake we’ll make another.”

“Heeey!” Harry furrows his eyebrows at the older woman who looks so unbothered if he’s really offended. 

Niall has never met Y/N’s mum, he’s only heard stories about her from Harry, which is why his impression of her is not positive, at all. He quickly apologizes the older woman and his girlfriend before dragging his best friend out of the kitchen to have a word with him in private.

“Why is she here? She’s going to ruin Y/N’s birthday!” Niall worriedly tells Harry, at the same time keeping his voice down because the walls aren’t that thick.

“Don’t worry. She’s here to help,” Harry replies calmly, which really shocks his best friend. The last time these two spoke about this lady, Harry made it sound it she was the most terrible human-being in this planet!

“Look, I was also very worried when she showed up, but she sounded like she genuinely wanted to get it right with her children. So far she’s been very helpful.” Harry’s lips curve into a small smile to ensure Niall, who lets out a sigh and simply nods his head. He appears a bit more relaxed now that Harry’s said so. 

“Well, at least now we don’t have to worry about the cake, right?”

Right.

With the help of his girlfriend’s mother, for the first time in his life, Harry’s made a birthday cake. 

He seems overjoyed to see the final result, laughing like a little boy on Christmas morning, all because he knows Y/N is going to be happy, and very proud of him. 

Seeing Harry like this makes Y/N’s mother feel quite…guilty. Of course her initial intention for doing this is getting her daughter’s forgiveness; so even though the thought of spending the day with Harry irritated her, she had to come begging for him to let her help with this party. 

However, after the whole morning spent in this kitchen with this boy, she thinks she’s changed her mind. She was wrong to assume Harry didn’t really care about Y/N when he obviously does, very much, probably more than she could sometimes.

“To be honest,” Harry speaks up as he lets out a sigh. Niall and Layla just ran out to buy some other things and he’s now left alone with the uninvited party guest. 

“I’m glad that you’re here,” he says to her. “Y/N’s going to be so happy when she sees you.”

The mother raises an eyebrow at her daughter’s boyfriend. “Are you sure? Because she didn’t answer my calls or texts…”

“You’re Y/N’s family, even though she’s mad at you, she still loves you.” Harry breathes out a silly smile, and his eyes sparkle at the sound of his girlfriend’s name.

That smile. Y/N’s mother knows what it is. Being alive for so many years, the woman has learnt one thing about a person’s smiles: There are many different kinds, every of which has its own meaning, but this one…You don’t get to see this a lot, but if you do, you’re lucky, because the person with this smile on their face, are truly, foolishly, and passionately in love.

“What made you want to apologize to Y/N?” 

Harry’s question breaks the older woman’s train of thought. She simply stares at him in silence, so he goes on, “it’s okay if you don’t want to tell me. I’m just curious.”

“No, no, I wasn’t paying attention, sorry.” 

Then she begins with a long heavy breath.

“Well…I wasn’t a very good parent, I’ve said and done things that I’m not proud of, but I’ve always loved my children. I thought I had the right to ask them to be perfect, because I gave birth to them and raised them up.” 

She shrugs slightly as there’s a short pause. 

“It wasn’t until I tried to reach out and none of my three children picked up the phone, and my husband started keeping distance from me, that I realized how much family really meant. I’d spent a lot of time alone, thinking, before deciding to come here to do the right thing, starting with Y/N. I hope she’ll hear me out.”

“She will,” Harry speaks up as he feels like now it’s his turn to say something. “She’s a really nice person, she forgives and forgets, which is not always a good thing because people may take advantage of her.”

“You really love her, don’t you?” Y/N’s mother presses her lips into a smile, then receives one in return from the young man. It’s a rhetorical question, she needs no confirmation from him, but he gives her one anyway.

“More than anything,” he replies, as if no one could see the way his face brightens up whenever someone mentions Y/N.

The mother chuckles slightly and stays quiet for a few seconds, before she breaks the silence by thanking Harry.

“You don’t have to thank me,” he denies, giving her a simple shrug. “We’re both doing this for our girl, aren’t we?”

“Not just this. I want to thank you for…taking care of Y/N, when I couldn’t,” she confesses, which comes as a great shock to Harry. This woman cannot be the same person he met last time! Of course, he has nothing to complain.

“No problem, Mrs. Y/L/N.”

“Son, you can now call me Margaret.”

…

The lift door opens and Y/N cautiously steps outside, looking to her left, then to her right, as if she was a spy on a mission. Her two best friends exchange looks with each other then John just has to ask her what she’s doing.

“I was expecting them to jump out and put a blindfold on me.”

“Them? Your friends?”

“Yeah.” Y/N rolls her eyes, smiling as she marches towards her flat knowing she’s safe…probably for now. “Harry was planning a party with them. Who knows what they’re up to?”

“Well?” Violet takes a deep breath, beaming as she tells her friend who still hesitates to open the door. “What are you waiting for? Let’s go inside!”

Violet doesn’t wait for another word from Y/N to step in front of her and open the door immediately. Y/N expects to at least get jump-scared by her other friends, but…nothing happens. 

She’s now facing a dark empty living room, not a sight of her boyfriend or the others. Slowly she walks in, followed by Violet and John, feeling somewhere between shocked and disappointed.

“Maybe the surprise is there’s no surprise at all?” John jokes and instantly gets elbowed by his girlfriend.

Y/N reaches for the switch to turn on the lights, but apparently someone has cut off the power in the flat. 

“Nope, they’re definitely up to something,” she calmly assumes before scanning her eyes around the room. That’s how she finds Harry’s laptop on the sofa, on top of which is a yellow note and three words in his sloppy handwriting: Turn me on ;)

Y/N giggles as she reads it. This is so Harry, she thinks to herself then sits down on the sofa, placing the laptop on her lap as she presses the power button.

On the desktop, there’s only one single folder, which contains only one media file named ‘your first surprise’.

The video begins with a black screen, then it takes a few seconds until the first special guest pops up.

“Hello, Y/N! My favorite babysitter!” 

“Jamie…” Y/N smiles as she sees the little boy on the screen. Apparently he was recording that clip by himself. He moves away from the camera then sits down in front of it, crossing his legs.

“I’m sorry we moved away. My new babysitter sucks and I miss you so much. I ran into Harry the other day at a grocery store and he told me about this project for your birthday! He asked me to give one reason why I love you. I have a million! But I can only give one so…” He shrugs slightly, sticking out his bottom lip, that face of his makes Y/N giggle. “I love you because you let me stay up past my bedtime and always gave me extra sweets.” Then the kid looks behind him cautiously before lowering his voice. “Don’t worry, I won’t ever tell mum.”

Y/N snorts as she puts both hands on her chest and mumbles a ‘thank you’.

“Happy birthday, Y/N! I love you and I miss you! Come and visit me someday, okay?”

“Jamie, who are you talking to?” His mother walks into the frame, standing in the background holding a laundry basket. Jamie turns around and tells her he’s recording a birthday wish for Y/N.

The single mother approaches the camera and stands behind the sofa, leaning forward to get her face in the frame.

“Hi sweetie! We miss you a lot! Happy birthday! Stay smart and sexy as always!” She furrows her eyebrows and points straight into the camera. “Your boyfriend is a keeper! Go and give him the best head he’s ever received tonight!”

“Jamie is right there!” Y/N speaks out loud as if her ex-upstairs-neighbor could hear her, then facepalms herself when Jamie looks at his mum so confused.

“A head? Like a person’s head?!!!” 

John and Violet, who are standing behind Y/N, burst into laughter when they hear the kid’s question, which his mother decides to ignore.

“Go do your homework, J. Come on, turn the camera off.”

“Okay, mum!” The boy frowns then whispers his goodbye to his ex-babysitter before ending the recording. The screen goes back to black for a second before transits to the next clip. Y/N’s guess is correct this time, it’s Ben. Apparently this was filmed in the hallway, right outside their flats.

“Hello sweetie! It’s me, your very gay neighbor! I hope you’re having a good day!” He says cheerfully, making Y/N smile. “When I first moved into this building I thought I’d never make friends because most people I’d met before you and Harry were all snobs. So I’m very glad we’re neighbors. You were my first friend here and you’ve been such a great friend since the beginning, that is why I love you. Harry told me you two are moving out after your graduation which is just two weeks away, that makes me really sad. I hope I’ll still get to see you two around. I love you, birthday girl! Stay gorgeous!”

The camera shifts away from Ben, but suddenly he raises his voice. “Harold, wait! I still have one thing left to say!”

Now that Y/N knows who’s filming this clip for their neighbor, it makes her enjoy this even more.

“Okay, go.” Harry moves the camera back on Ben, who instantly puts on his biggest, most adorable smile.

“If we don’t see each other again, please remember me when you send out your wedding invitations.”

“You can just ask me, you know?” Y/N hears Harry says, to which Ben responds with a scoff.

“If you two get married I doubt she’ll let you be in charge of the guest lists.”

“Heeeeey!” Harry stresses out the word then the screen turns black again. The fact that he’s talking about their wedding as if it’s going to happen in the near future makes her love him so much more. And she didn’t even know it was possible!

Now Y/N is curious to find out who the next person is.

“Happy birthday!!!” Both her brother and sister show up on the screen and say at the same time.

“We’re so sorry we cannot make it to your birthday party but after watching this clip we hope you can feel like we’re there with you!” Her sister says, beaming with joy. 

Y/N really does miss having Maisie at the flat every once in a while. Nevertheless, Maisie had to move to another city to work for Darren’s wife’s firm.

“Do you want to go first?” Maisie asks her brother, who tells her to just go ahead and finish her part.

“Okay.” Maisie laughs and looks up as she begins. “So I thought really hard about this, because I love you for so many reasons, but one truly stands out and that’s got to be how you took me in when I came back with nothing. When little Eleanor and I had no one to turn to, I could only count on you. You have such a good heart, I love you, and I hope you have the best birthday ever!”

She turns to Darren to tell him it’s his turn.

“Well, little sis, I know Maisie is obviously your favorite sibling and she’s always been ever since we were kids.” He points to the one sitting next to him, making her smile and the sister watching him on the screen is smiling as well. “But just know I love you very much. I love you because you’ve always been there for me, fixing my wounds after my fights at school, and listening to my problems. I used to think growing up with two sisters sucked, but now I know how lucky I was. We wish you all the best little sis!”

They both wave goodbye then the screen turns to black for the third time. Shortly after, she sees her boyfriend’s sister and mother. Did he actually make his family do this as well?! She thinks while shaking her head with her mouth agape.

“Happy birthday, Y/N! Mum and I cannot be there to see you in person but thank God my loser brother came up with this idea.” Gemma rolls her eyes, causing Y/N to laugh. “So I know we haven’t got to spend a lot of time together, but ever since we met, I’ve thought of you as my little sister. I love you for bringing out the best in Harry. He would never have done something like this for anyone else.”

Anne quickly adds in, “you are very special lovely. I really do hope you and Harry will come home again soon. You are always welcome here, as a member of our family.”

Hearing those words from Anne really warms Y/N’s heart. She just sits there with her hands on her chest, trying to contain her extreme elation while continue watching. 

The next person, shockingly, is her friend Ethan. 

This clip is filmed in the parking lot on campus, which reminds Y/N, last Friday Harry came home really late with a camera saying he had to film something for a research paper. So this is what he’d really been doing. She didn’t suspect a thing!

“One reason why I love Y/N?” Ethan wonders, putting a finger to his lips.

Before he can say anything else, Harry, who’s behind the camera speaks up, “no, for you it’s one reason why she’s a ‘good friend’.”

Y/N breathes out a laugh and rolls her eyes. Typical Harry.

“Sorry for thinking too hard about this, Y/N. I’m trying to come up with something to say that won’t result in me being punched in the face.”

“Stop trying to be funny, mate. Hurry up!” Harry rushes, making the other guy sigh.

“Okay, so Y/N…you’re a good friend, because you’re kind, you give off this positive vibe that makes the people around you happy. Thank you for helping me study, I just got the result and I passed with flying colors! You’re the best! I hope you’re having an awesome birthday and lots of presents! I cannot make it to the party but I know it’s going to be amazing!”

“Okay, thank you Ethan.”

“Can I say I love her as a friend?”

“No, you cannot, goodbye Ethan!”

Y/N chuckles, shaking her head at Harry. She expects the screen to turn black now, but no. Harry turns the camera around to finally show his gorgeous face.

“Hi, baby.” He waves at her with a smirk. “This is the end of the video. Now, look behind you.”

So she puts the laptop down on the coffee table in front of her and does as she was told. The moment she turns around, all the lights go on at once and her friends and boyfriend are standing right behind the sofa. Harry’s holding a birthday cake.

“HAPPY BIRTHDAY!”

Y/N covers her mouth, too emotional to say a word so Harry tells her to make a wish. She closes her eyes, intertwines her fingers in front of her chest and silently makes her birthday wish before blowing off all the candles in the cheering of everyone.

“Were you two a part of this?” She turns to Violet and John who both nod their heads though they’re taken a back by her question.

“How did you find out?” John asks, receiving a smile from the birthday girl.

“I know Harry, he wouldn’t have forgotten to include you two in the video.”

“Damn she’s smart!” says Louis and Y/N thanks him for the compliment.

“Are we gonna eat the cake now?”

“Trix!” Liam huffs. “Not yet!”

“No, it’s okay, we can eat the cake now,” Y/N says in attempt to grab the cake, but Harry’s quick to move it out of her reach.

“Wait! There’s still one more surprise!”

Y/N crosses her arms and stares at him with an eyebrow raised. “Harry, if a band walk out from the kitchen—“

Her expression cracks him up. “No, no, not a band!”

Puzzled, her eyes follow his finger to the kitchen door where he’s pointing at. There she finds the last person she would expect to show up tonight.

“Mum?!” Y/N widens both eyes then turns to Harry. “You invited my mum?”

“No, she came here on her own. She helped me bake this cake for you.”

“Wait, wait, hold on! You two—“ she wiggles her fingers back and forth between her mother and boyfriend “—spent the whole day together?!”

“It was true, I was there,” Layla confirms, and so does Niall who nods his head rapidly.

“If you don’t want me to stay, I can leave,” the mother speaks up at last. The anxiety is so obvious on her face while she’s holding a gaze with her daughter. Everyone else is also on the edge of their seats, waiting for Y/N’s answer.

“No, don’t,” she finally says. “I want you to stay.”

Y/N cannot remember the last time she’s seen her mother that elated. So, maybe her birthday wish last year came true after all.

…

“You think we did it?” Layla asks, standing with her back against the wall and Harry by her side. Both are staring at Y/N talking to her mother.

“We did it,” he agrees, wearing a beam on his face.

“Well, I’m glad she didn’t decide to open our presents right in front of us.”

“Why?” Harry breathes out a laugh and turns to his friend. “What did you give her?”

“You’ll thank me,” she replies, shooting him a cheeky wink. “A vibr—“

“Hey guys, what are you talking about?”

Harry almost chokes when he hears that voice. He and Layla both turn their heads to see Y/N and her friend Violet right in front of them. 

“Nothing,” Harry lies, which makes Layla laugh and the other two girls as confused as ever. 

All of a sudden, Y/N takes hold of Layla’s wrist then pulls her near. “Layla, this is Violet, my best friend from high school. Violet, this is Layla, my best friend here.”

“Best friend?” Layla exclaims with a huge grin on her face. It’s the first time she’s been called Y/N’s best friend, and that’s really made her day. Harry gives the girl a subtle pat on the back then steps back so the ladies can carry on with their conversation.

When his eyes accidentally meet Y/N’s, the corners of her lips curve into a grin, secretly letting him know how proud she is of him tonight. This must be how Layla is feeling right now, that one-of-a-kind feeling, when you know you are someone’s special someone. Harry thinks as he releases a happy sigh. 

If he has to pick only one reason why he loves Y/N, he will not hesitate to say, she’s made his world a better since she came along.

…

It’s ironic how Harry was the one who invited the guests, yet when he sends the last person out of the flat and closes the door, he feels more relieved than ever. Guess there’s always going to be a selfish part of him that wants her for himself only.

Harry returns to the kitchen afterwards, only to find Y/N cleaning up the empty bottles on the table by herself. He has to tell her to stop.

“Leave it there, I’ll do it.”

“You’ve done a lot already.”

“My stubborn baby.” He breathes then comes to stand behind the girl, wrapping his arms around her waist with his chin on her shoulder.

“Missed you,” he whispers, feeling her shoulders vibrate when she laughs.

“I was with you the whole night, H.”

“I know.” His answer sends them back into silence. Y/N thinks she’s enjoying being held so much she could just stay like this forever if he didn’t let her go.

“Are you proud of me?” He asks after a moment.

“Always,” is her answer. “You made me so happy today, do you know that? And my mum likes you now. That is insane.”

“What’s not to like?” He scoffs. “I mean, look at me.”

Y/N quickly unwraps his arms around her then spins around, placing his hands on her hips.

“I am.” She grins, cupping his cheek. “Do you know what my birthday wish was?”

“What is it, love?”

“I wished you would always stay around…and we’d always be happy…just like today.” 

He smiles the same stupid smile he only wears for her. Sometimes he wonders if she notices, how infatuated he is with just the idea of her.

Harry takes her hands then brings them to his lips. “I’m not going anywhere, love. I just hope you won’t get tired of me.”

“Me? Tired of you? Please!”

“I’m getting extra clingy recently. I want to be around you all the time. Sure you can handle such a clingy boyfriend?”

“My boyfriend is not clingy! He’s the best!” She throws her arms over his shoulders, watching a grin form on his face. “He’s charming, sexy, adorable, extremely good-looking.”

“Go on.” He licks his lips, seemingly amused by these spontaneous compliments.

“He’s so smart, so caring, he makes me feel loved all the time, he protects me and keeps me safe as well.”

“This boyfriend of yours sounds like the perfect guy.”

“He is!” Y/N raises both eyebrows at him. “In fact, I don’t think there’s another man like him out there.”

“Is that so?” Harry knits his eyebrows together, fingers sneaking under her shirt to rest on her bareback, wanting to feel her hot skin under his palms. The contact makes Y/N squeeze her eyes shut and lean in so that his mouth is close to devour hers. 

“I think…” He pauses to kiss her lips “…your boyfriend…” her cheek “…has another…” the side of her neck “…surprise for you.”

Y/N’s eyes fly open immediately. “Another?”

“The last one.” He holds up one finger between the tips of their noses. “I haven’t given you a present yet.”

Without warning, he picks her up, causing her to squeal in surprise. With her legs around his waist, arms around his neck, he carries her out of the kitchen.

“Does receiving ‘this present’ requires physical activities?” Y/N jokingly asks, whereas Harry looks dead serious.

“Yes, baby, it does.” He furrows his eyebrows, staring at her lips. “But you’ll have to put ‘my present’ on first, so I can take it off later.” 

[korranguyen]

I get a feeling br.yke really don't like middle-aged/older career-orientated women? Or at least women who didn't choose motherhood? Because the women who had families and are happily mothers seem to receive kinder treatment (like P3ma and Suy1n) but L1n gets bullshit flung at her and the earth kingdom queen is a villain who dies horribly. T0ph did become a mother but she seemed to be a reluctant one and maybe that's why they made her neglectful and a worse mother than K4tara who was warmer

I don’t know. I don’t think they were intentionally presenting that life choice in itself negatively so much as just misunderstanding the identity of “strong women”? It’s like the adult females of LoK exist in this dichotomy where you can either Shut Up and Make Me a Sandwich™ or be destined to forever be a cold, bitter loner.

In the conventions of Bryke, “happy” families only exist when mothers— namely, Pema, Katara, and Senna— are the feeble extensions of their husband’s legacies who dedicate their entire purpose in life to meandering around the confines of the family home, sucking up their menial housewifery with little to no acknowledgement in return like a fuckin’ floor roomba. Meanwhile, the women who require the space to achieve their own independent goals, ie. Toph and Lin, get kicked to the wayside to bleed as “women who don’t need, don’t want and/or don’t deserve???— considering the sickening implications that come with Housewife Pema being painted as the happy, easy-out option for Tenzin over Lin— male company”. Hell, you even see them start giving Korra this treatment as she matures: she starts off with this teenage girl impulsiveness and we see its development under the pressures of the Civil Wars arc in B2. But then her brashness isn’t treated like an integral part of growing up, but rather as a flaw ingrained in her that needs to be beat out of her so Loud Angry Woman can learn how to “suffer to be more compassionate”???

(... Anyone else notice this... parallel?)

So if the treatment of these women was motivated by an idealism bias, it would’ve been regarding the tendency towards individualism in the first place— not the validity of the fate it eventually leads them to.

If I’m being honest, though, we might just be reading into an accidental byproduct of Bryke’s fetish for contrived family drama and their writing team’s lacking ability to establish characters and conflicts in general. I’m saying this mainly because Kya— while a notable exception to the “rule” as an independent-minded woman whose eventual path in life never gets treated with particularly negative connotations— mainly gets saved from the trope because the “family drama” conflict she partakes in called her into a different role. So it might not be a conscious bias we’re looking at, but rather them blindly running into tropes by the force of bad taste? But still, one could argue that acquiring those tastes in the first place is damning in itself: much like cracking any kind of sardonic joke inherently delivers with it an implied, biased perspective of the subject matter it draws from.

I don’t even know how to address Suyin as a character. She’s written so nonsensically and with zero thought to realistic complexity— Woman with five (5) children!!!! Who runs a city!!!! And has 500 individuality-establishing activities!!!! But somehow never runs into time-management or internal identity-defining issues!!!! And apparently has a thing against established monarchy but somehow supports the ascent of the next monarchal ruler!!!! And is somehow righteous for condemning and disowning her adopted daughter and taking in her son, who participated in these same activities, with loving arms, no questions asked, with zero addressing of her bullshit bias*!!!!— that the only explanation I can think of for her character is that Bryke wanted to respond to their feminist critics without affecting the positions of their previous characters and gave us “One (1) PERFECT UNTOUCHABLE STRONG MOMMA!!! Problem = solved”. Especially considering this change of mind to the “empty yourself to a husk of your man or be a self-centered, volatile, lonely woman” dichotomy wound up being all-too-clearly superficial when they introduced Toph in the next season as the epitome of the latter trope: some asshole who ran away to a swamp to avoid her family for her own interests, with little to no concern to others’ internal conflicts, and even admits to being a bad mother with little regret in her voice.

(Sidenote: the way they treated Toph in LOK probably pisses me off the most, because the whole point of her character arc in ATLA was that identifying as the “tough tomboy individualist” she was didn’t need to detract from her ability to empathize, and her growth throughout the series was interpersonal: a young girl learning to open up and rely on others)

Now, as an American, I actually think Suyin being the “motherhood trope breaker” could’ve worked (at least on some level) if we had gotten to see her directly challenge that choice as well. Because the shitty reality is, because of the double standards of soft essentialism in first-world conceptions of gender roles (women are considered the “more-diverse types” who can “choose” between career and home tasks, while men nearly always have the affirmation of being “destined” as the career-oriented breadwinners— making the female choice more of an illusion when you’re practically obligated to be the one to step down in that familial situation), women do often wind up stuck between their drive for individualism and their desire to raise family, and pointing that out through the matriarch of a major city could’ve been a very compelling character arc. But unfortunately, by dodging this point, Suyin’s presence in the series ultimately served to make it even more obvious that the writers have no idea what being a mother is like.

*Maybe they will address this in Ruins of the Empire. It looks like they’re taking that route. I would be pleasantly surprised and delighted to see it— provided I summon the time and motivation to read it.

[marril96]

Acting for Dummies 101

Pairing: Rowena x reader

Summary: In order to help Sam and Dean with a case, you and Rowena go undercover as a troubled couple.

A/N: Inspired by the bickering scene in 14x14.

Editor: @oswinthestrange

It had been Jack's idea.

Something was killing couples. There had been three incidents so far, all bodies found with their heart neatly carved out and sigils etched into their foreheads and wrists. All signs pointed to a witch, but the suspect pool was long; this small town had a surprising number of suspicious people hanging around, and it was difficult to pinpoint either of them as the offender.

Thankfully, Sam had managed to find a link between the victims. As it turned out, all the couples had had issues, and all had visited the same therapist. Dr. Miranda Jackson had a clean record, not even a parking ticket; out of all people on the suspect list, she seemed least likely to be the culprit. Even still, the coincidence was too glaring to ignore. She was more than worth looking into.

Dean suggested going undercover and Jack had helpfully volunteered you and Rowena. He was so enamored by her performance last time, when she and Sam had portrayed a bickering couple worried about their puppy, that he wanted to see it again. And besides, the two of you were already a couple. You were basically perfect for the role.

So here you were, slumped in a chair you wished was more comfortable, with Rowena right next to you, preparing your imaginary lines. You barely resisted the urge to bite your nails; you dug them into your jean-clad thighs, raked them over the soft denim, curled your fingers in tune with your throbbing nerves. You could do this, you told yourself. It was just a little bit of lying. Nothing you hadn't done before.

All you had to do was fake being in a troubled relationship, look out for any traces of magic lingering in the air, be prepared to fight if the good doctor did turn out to be the murderer, and not get caught.

No pressure at all!

Doctor Jackson observed you, gifted you with a smile, friendly, non-threatening, when your nervous eyes locked with hers for a brief moment. You lowered your gaze right away, suddenly finding the floor — strangely clean and shiny for one in a therapist's office — very interesting. She shifted her eyes to Rowena, earning a smile that was so sugary sweet it induced diabetes.

"So," Dr. Jackson said, breaking the uncomfortable silence that had settled over the small room, "Why don't you tell me a bit about your troubles? I assume there's a reason you made an urgent appointment."

Her voice was soft and sweet, tone professional yet kind. The kind that made you want to tell her your deepest, darkest secrets, that made you trust her within the first five minutes of knowing her.

"Och, there is!" Rowena said dramatically.

She was a horrible liar, and an even worse actress. You didn't know what it was Jack saw that made him think her performance was, in any way, shape, or form, good. She was an extremely gifted and powerful witch. However, lying, and all related activities, was one of her weakest points.

You loved the woman to death, but not even love was that blind.

"We're having so many problems!"

We'll have problems if your shitty acting gets us caught, you thought.

"Could you elaborate?" Dr. Jackson asked.

"She spends an awful lot," Rowena said. "I work so hard for us, and she throws it all away on nonsense!"

"You're so full of shit!" you said.

On your way to Dr. Jackson's office she, when you asked her what to do, told you to let it come naturally, to just relax and go with the flow. You might as well give it a try.

Pointing a finger at Rowena, you turned to the doctor. "She gambles! That's where her" — you formed quotes with your fingers — "'hard-earned money' comes from! And she's not even good at gambling! She cheats all the time!"

Rowena gasped. "I never!"

"You admitted it to me two months ago!" you argued.

Her eyes widened with feigned shock. She took a deep breath and turned to Dr. Jackson. "I may have cheated once or twice" — you scoffed at that, earning you a glare — "but it's only because she spends so much! I did it for us!"

You snorted, and she shot you another glare.

Dr. Jackson adjusted her glasses, taking the madness in. She seemed to be buying it. "So you're in financial trouble?"

"Yes," Rowena said.

"And you're frustrated because Y/N keeps spending the little money you have?"

"Yes."

"I can see how that would put a strain on a relationship. Finances are a common problem amongst couples — especially married ones. You two are married, correct?"

"As of two years ago," Rowena said happily, flashing a ruby ring she'd bought with your fake credit card a week ago. Dr. Jackson smiled at the gesture.

"She made me take her last name," you mumbled.

"I didn't make you," Rowena defended. "I simply suggested you take mine because it suited you so well."

"You said mine was ugly and that you wouldn't be caught dead having it as your last name!" you snapped.

"Well, it was!" she exclaimed. "MacLeod certainly has a finer ring to it than—"

"Okay," Dr. Jackson interrupted, hands up in a placating manner. "Clearly finances aren't the only issue here. Why don't—"

You cut in. "She spends more than me! Okay, I go on a binge from time to time, but she does it constantly. She can't leave the house without going to one of her ridiculously expensive boutiques. A year ago we had to buy a closet — a closet! — just for her shoes. And it's already full!"

"I will not apologize for wanting to look nice for you!" Rowena said indignantly.

In reality, you loved her shopping habits. She may have spent a lot and bought clothes she would only wear once or twice, but it was something she loved, something she truly enjoyed. As much as you preferred to sit at home to roaming the mall, you happily accompanied her. Her face always lit up with joy as she observed the dresses and blouses, as she looked them over, felt the fine fabrics underneath her fingertips. Every item she tried on she made a point to pose in for you. Part of it was her ego; the woman drank compliments like water, needed them to live, thrived on them. But she also did it for you. She wanted you to see how each item fitted her, how the fabrics hugged her body. Wanted you to want to take it off of her.

Rowena MacLeod was nothing if not a tease.

"Are you sure it's for me?" you said.

She narrowed her eyes. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"You know damn well!" you snapped. "She cheated on me!"

Rowena exhaled loudly. "It was one time!" she admitted, raising a forefinger in emphasis. The corners of her lips turned downwards in exaggerated sadness. "She said she's forgiven me, but every time we argue she brings it up."

You ignored her. "She brought him to our house, to our bed!"

She shot you a glare that must have killed before. "Maybe if you did more than just lie there like a heavily sedated walrus while I did all the work I wouldn't have felt the need to seek someone else's company!"

Stifling an incoming surge of laughter, you clasped a hand over your heart dramatically. Her theatrics were rubbing off on you. "Sure, it's my fault. Everything's always my fault. Queen Rowena is always right."

"Well, I am," she said matter-of-factly.

You sighed, rubbing your temples frustratedly. "See what I have to deal with every day?" Before Dr. Jackson could respond, you said, "And it's not just that she's stubborn. She's difficult to live with. She complains about everything. Everything! Nothing's ever good enough for Miss perfect!"

"Forgive me for having standards!" Rowena said, voice dripping with sarcasm.

"It's called being a snob!" you retorted. Your eyes shifted to the doctor. "One time at a restaurant she complained to the waiter about rain hitting the roof."

"It was annoyingly loud and I have sensitive ears!"

"It was weather! What the hell was he supposed to do, will it to stop? Do a rain banishing dance?"

Her response was a heavy roll of eyes, her trademark.

"She makes these ridiculous complaints at home, too!" you continued. Mimicking her accent, you said, "'My soup is too hot, my tea is cold, you left a speck of dust in the corner, there's creases on my blouse, iron it again…' Can't satisfy her!"

"If you did your job right, I wouldn't complain."

You were outraged. "My job? Honey, if you wanted a housewife, you married the wrong woman!"

Rowena turned to the doctor, eyes pleading, begging for her to side with her. "All I ask is appreciation for my hard work."

"You're a gambler!" you pointed out.

She grit her teeth. "At least I have a job!"

"I had a job, too," you said. The lies fell easily from your lips. Rowena was right; it came naturally. All you had to do was give in to it. "You made me quit, remember?" You locked eyes with Dr. Jackson. "She was jealous of my boss."

"The man was staring at your arse all the bloody time. Who knows what he would've done?"

"Keep telling yourself that."

"I try to look out for her and this is how she repays me," Rowena told the doctor.

"Poor Rowena, always the victim."

She ignored the remark. "She's the jealous one in our relationship."

"Am not," you said childishly.

"Are, too," Rowena retorted. "She scowls at every man who talks to me. One time she even growled. Like a rabid dog." She made a disgusted, outraged face. "Whenever I leave the house, she insists of accompanying me."

"That may have to do with your cheating," you pointed out.

She spread her arms wide, sighed heavily. "There she goes again! She will never let me live it down."

"Would you let me live down cheating on you?"

"I would if you were genuinely repentant. Like me."

You swallowed back a rush of laughter threatening to tear free. Rowena had held grudges for centuries. There were still a few she'd held over a minor disagreement with a small coven of witches a hundred years ago. If any cheating was to happen from your side, she would make note of it, sear it into her brain, and let anger consume her whole one day at a time. If hurt didn't get to her first.

Not that you would be any different. You could forgive a lot of things, but cheating wasn't one of them. Thankfully, Rowena was as faithful as she was a wonderful, attentive lover. She was known to tease and flirt, but she would never cross the line. She loved you, respected you, cherished you too much for that.

"Repentant?" You snorted. "You never even said sorry. In fact, I've never heard you say sorry in my life."

It was a thing of the past — she'd gradually learned to own up to her mistakes and express regret in words as well as actions — but it made for a great addition to your little play.

Rowena, ever the theater actress, agreed. "I said I regretted it."

"You didn't say sorry," you pointed out.

"It's the same thing."

"No, it's not."

"Yes, it is." She pouted, and it took all your self-control to refrain from melting at the sheer cuteness of it. "You just want to humiliate me."

Instead, you let out another snort. "Basic human decency is not humiliation, but sure. Whatever you say."

"Now you're just being condescending!" she accused.

"I wouldn't have to be if you apologized like a normal person!" you shot back.

"Okay!" Dr. Jackson exclaimed, cutting you both off. She took a deep breath. Exhaled. Inhaled again. Rinse and repeat. Her face was the picture of tiredness, thick, dark circles framing her eyes, skin pale and washed out. It was as if the last forty minutes had added ten years to her age.

If you had to listen to two women bickering like children for a living, you would have aged prematurely, too.

"There's obviously a lot going on here," the doctor said. An understatement.

"A lot," Rowena agreed.

"Yup," you said with a nod.

"You two want to work it out, right? That's why you're here?"

"Aye," Rowena said. She reached for your hand and squeezed it. "Despite everything, I love my wee lamb very much."

You blushed at the nickname. Usually, it was you who called her ridiculous names. Payback. "She really does," you said, the first truth you'd spoken here. "I love her, too. She's my baby girl."

You brought your linked hands to your mouth and kissed her knuckles.

Dr. Jackson flashed you a bright smile. "That's excellent to hear!" she said, and she meant it. She genuinely wished you best. "Time's run out for today. How about we set an appointment for…" She checked her schedule book. "Friday, two o'clock?"

"Sounds marvelous!" Rowena beamed.

"Yeah," you agreed.

"It's a deal, then," the doctor said happily. She stood up. You and Rowena followed suit.

"Thank you so much, Doctor," Rowena said exaggeratedly, shaking the woman's hand with both of hers. "You are going to save our marriage!"

"It's what I do," Dr. Jackson said, giving a humble nod. "I have a good feeling about you two."

She had no idea. Your relationship was far from the fiction you'd sold her. Happy. Wholesome. Healthy. Perhaps a tad codependent, but no relationship was perfect. Arguments were rare, but when they happened, they lasted a few hours tops, and were always resolved with a good makeout session or a tumble between the sheets.

You had your annoyingly overprotective moments, just as Rowena had her difficult, drama-queen ones, but they were nothing the two of you couldn't deal with.

"Thank you," you said.

You and the doctor shook hands and, with a quick exchange of goodbye pleasantries, you were out on the streets. You took in a deep breath of fresh air, tense muscles relaxing, pressure subsiding. A tinge of pride bloomed up in your chest.

"We did it!" you said, smiling from ear to ear.

Rowena flashed a smile of her own. "We did! You were marvelous, dear!" She tilted her chin up, proud, smug. "Not as marvelous as me, of course, but close enough."

You slapped her arm playfully. Your little egoist.

She yelped dramatically, lower lip popping out in a pout. You pressed a swift kiss to it, unable to resist the adorableness. Rowena grinned.

"I didn't sense anything from her," you said.

"Me, neither," she said. "She's not our villain."

You sighed. "This was a waste of time."

"Don't be like that!" Rowena chastised. "It was fun."

"If you say so." A playful smile curled at the corners of your mouth. You hated to admit it, but she was right. It was fun. Pointless, but still entertaining. "We should call the others, let them know about the doctor."

She nodded. "Fancy a lunch? I saw a cosy wee restaurant down the street."

"Sure." Your stomach grumbled in agreement. You rubbed it, cheeks burning hot, embarrassed.

Rowena chuckled. "I suppose we'd better hurry! Come, dear. Let's get that belly full!"

She reclaimed her hold on your hand and lead the way. You followed after her like a faithful puppy, mouth watering at thoughts of warm meals and sweet, delicious desserts. You'd worked hard earlier; you'd earned a treat, or several.

The case could wait half an hour.

Your belly could not.

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