#betsy whatever the fuck her name is

[nibeul]

cant believe that, after all the shit fans of color went through pointing out that ao3 has a racism problem, it's finally fucking AI that stops people from dickriding that site

#maybe the one good thing AI has done #to be clear I don't support ao3 using AI. but god I hope they're stupid enough to completely ostracize their entire user base #pretty sure this is the girl y'all put on a pedestal after racially harassing Tiffany to no end #betsy whatever the fuck her name is #go figure

[sitwmedia]

Little dumb babies.. Squishy.. (FINISHING THE ADULTS CHILDREN DESIGNS FOR ONCE) (Yes toilet woman is in the au she's important ok? I also wanna draw her screaming about the rights of bees)

(the black eyes are bc she's going alpha mode)

(i used Google translate)

#betsy donovan #Janice Donovan #Idfk the females former last names #Roger Donovan #Or whatever his name was #i don't give a fuck #i don't give a shit #South park adults #Southpark #Somewhere in the woods southpark au #gay #Betsy looks like a lesbian tbh #I kinda projected onto her and she gets a wife in my au screw men #Still besties with the man tho #Besties till the end #i guess #Until she got eaten by a toilet #wap #silly #kms #i'm going to kms #Clyde's dead mom #“mew” “i told you we needed more glitter” ahh voice

[mdemontespan1667]

THE TROUBLE WITH COYOTES

DARK STEVE (AU) X READER

YOU HAVE CAR TROUBLE AND IT'S STEVE TO THE RESCUE, OR NOT. (I SUCK AT SUMMARIES LOL)

WARNINGS: NON-CON, NON-CON, NON-CON/VAGINAL SEX/VAGINAL PENETRATION BY A FOREIGN OBJECT/MEAN STEVE/ASSHOLE STEVE/ORAL SEX (MALE RECEIVING)/ANAL SEX/SLAPPING/CHOKING/USE OF THE WORD RAPE/SPIT(LUBRICATION PURPOSE ONLY)/CAR SEX/CHEATING/BREEDING KINK/DEGRADATION/BLACKMAIL/REVENGE PORN(?)/NON-CON

AS ALWAYS THIS IS STRICTLY 18 + ONLY

I HAVE TO GIVE YOU A HUGE THANK YOU TO @caffiend-queen. WITHOUT THEIR ADVICE, COMMENTS, SUGGESTIONS, ADVICE, ENCOURAGEMENT AND JUST OVERALL BEING AN ABSOUTELY FANTASTIC FRIEND I PROBABLY WOULDN'T BE WRITING ANYTHING. WORDS CAN'T EXPRESS HOW MUCH I APPRECIATE YOU TAKING TIME TO DEAL WITH MY CRAP.

“Car trouble?”

“Uh”

Your first instinct was to lie but looking around there really was no other plausible explanation for you to be stopped, in the dark, on the side of barely two lane gravel road.

For the millionth time you wondered why the fuck Betsy had decided to get engaged and move to the middle of Fucking Nowhere Kansas.

She’d blamed it on “Country Boy Dick” which must have been damned impressive to make her give up Neiman’s and the Smithsonian. 

“Hello.”

“Oh, uh, sorry. Yeah, I guess so.”

The stranger pulled ahead of your car, executed a perfect three point turn and parked facing your dead vehicle. 

“What happened?”

“I have no idea. It started making a weird noise and then it just stopped.”

Your words trailed off as you got a good look at the driver. 

He was tall, hair buzzed, dark stubble covering his face. 

A grimy, yet somehow still clean, tank top that revealed nicely defined abs, peeked out from under a rugged brown leather jacket. 

Battered jeans, that had no business being that snug on his crotch and thighs, completed the ensemble.  

Goddamn. 

“Country Boy Dick” didn’t seem like such a lame excuse anymore. 

“Hey, Hello?”

“Sorry, what did you say?”

“I asked if you could pop the hood for me.”

A lazy, knowing smile formed on his lips. 

Mortified at being caught gawking, you opened the driver’s side door.

Peering in you looked for something that might “pop the hood” whatever the hell that was. 

“You aren’t from around here are you.”

Whirling around, you found him standing right behind you, your bodies almost touching. 

You scooted down car, a tiny warning bell tinkling in your head. 

“Oh, hey.”

He raised his hands up.

“Didn’t mean to scare you. My name’s Steve.”

Reaching under the dash of your car he pressed a button.

He strode to the hood, lifting it up. 

“What’s your name?”

“Uh, it’s Meredith.”

No way in hell were you giving a complete stranger your real name, smoking hot or not. 

“Well, Meredith,” by the way he emphasized your name you knew he knew you had lied, “your timing belt snapped off.”

“Fucking great.”

You kicked the back tire. 

“Ok, thanks for trying Scott. I’ll call Triple A.”

“It’s Steve.”

“Excuse me?”

“Steve. It’s my name Meredith.”

A tiny bit creeped out, you faked a smile.

“Sorry Steve. I suck at remembering names. I’m just gonna call Triple A and…”

“I hate to tell you but the only tow truck for miles is owned by Jake Plessy. And seeing how it’s Friday night I imagine he’s sitting at Rooster’s at least half a bottle in of Jim Beam. You’ll be lucky if he can find his rig before morning.”

“Ok, so, well I’ll call 911.”

Steve laughed.

“What’s so funny?”

You were in no mood for this bullshit. 

“Sorry, it’s not funny, but Sheriff Wison is probably sitting right next to Plessy. You might get lucky and catch a State Trooper on patrol, otherwise their closest substation is over an hour away. Or…”

“Or what.”

“Or you could let me give you a ride into town.”

“I think I’ll wait for the police. I mean, I appreciate the offer, uh, Steve, I really do but it’s a rental and I don’t want to just leave it.”

Steve let the hood drop with a bang. 

You jumped, flinching at the sound. 

“Suit yourself. Make sure you stay in your car. Lot’s of coyotes out on a night like this.”

“Coyotes?”

Right on que a howl drifted across the air. 

“Yeah, but don’t worry. They’re more scared of you than you are of them. Normally.”

“Normally?”

Your voice squeaked. 

“It’s been a bad summer. They like to pick off the weak. But you should be fine. Have a good night.”

Steve opened his car door. 

Looking around you noticed just how absolutely alone you were out here, in the dark. 

“Uh, wait. I’ll uh, I’ll take that ride. 

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

It’s alright if you love me

It’s alright if you don’t

I’m not afraid of you runnin away honey

I get the feeling you won’t

Say there ain’t no use in pretending

Your eyes give you away

Something inside you is feeling like I do

We said all there is to say

Baby

Breakdown, go ahead and give it to me

Breakdown, honey, take me through the night. 

The music spilling from the speakers coupled with the steady motion of Steve’s car had almost lulled you to sleep.

Vaguely you wondered why he had turned off the main road thirty minutes or so ago. 

You were almost certain Betsy's directions had you staying straight after turning off the highway. 

Looking back out the passenger window you watched the flat land pass by. 

It was almost hypnotic with nothing to break the view. 

Your eyes started to droop shut.

The sudden stop locked your seatbelt, pitching you forward.

“What the hell?”

Steve was facing you, the dashboard lights bathing him in a satanic-esque glow.

“What’s going on, is everything ok?”

“That,” his hand massaged a noticeable bulge under his zipper, “depends on you.”

“Excuse me?”

“Big city girl never heard of put out or get out?”

He unzipped his jeans, lifting his hips to free his cock. 

You inhaled sharply at the sight of the large appendage, crimson tinted head shiny with pre-cum.

“You putting out or getting out sweetheart? Town’s a good 20 miles North of here.

You stared out the windshield.

The moon was a pale sliver illuminating nothing. 

“Fine,” you huffed, bending towards him.

“Hey.”

“Wha…”

SMACK

Steve slapped you.

“No teeth. You understand.”

“Yeah…I… Yeah, I understand,” you stammered.

“Then get to it.”

Leaning down, you took a tentative lick.

Determined to get it over quickly, you attacked his cock, head bobbing, cheeks hollowed, hand twisting at the base.

Steve gripped the back of your head pressing you down.

You gagged around him, hands beating his chest.

He pulled you up only to force you down again, repeating until you caught his rhythm, doing your best to take all of him, adding a swirl on each upstroke.

You prepared yourself to swallow, instead he shoved you away.

“Strip.”

“Nuh Uh. No fucking way. I’ll give you a blowjob but that’s…..”

He held up his phone.

A video of you between his legs flared on the screen.

“Poor Betsy. Imagine how hurt she’ll be when she sees her best friend slobbering all over her future husband’s knob.”

Your eyes grew wide.

“How did you..No..no..this isn’t happening. She wouldn’t…”

Steve lurched across the seats, pinning you by the throat to the passenger door, head hitting the window.

“Yeah she would. She believes every word I say. I walk on water as far as that dumb bitch is concerned,” he sneered, “Good thing her mom’s loaded huh? Otherwise I wouldn’t be able to stand her.”

You batted at his arm.

“Let me go you son of a…….”

He tightened his grip.

“Or how about I send this to that hot shot Senator you work for? How long do you think it’d take Mr Family Values to fire your skanky ass?”

Eyes now the shape of saucers you croaked, “How do you know…”

“SHUT UP!,” he bellowed in your face, spittle flying.

“I know because Betsy never shuts the fuck up either. Your big career, your fancy apartment, all the parties you took her to. All I ever hear about is you.”

Steve scowled, pure hate emanating from his voice.

“But she’s mine now. It’ll suck when she finds out you seduced me, I mean I couldn’t keep you off my dick, practically raped me.”

“Or,” he leaned in, “We could have a little fun and no one would have to know.”

He caressed your cheek.

“Yes or no, I ain’t got all night.”

Too stunned to speak, you nodded your head.

“Good girl.”

Settling back in the driver’s seat, he gazed at you expectantly.

Shaking, you removed the knee high leopard print boots, black leggings and oversized black Cashmere sweater, leaving on the pink, lace edged balconette bra and matching thong.

Steve raised his eyebrows in a show of impatience.  

WIth a defeated sigh, you finished undressing.

You shivered even though the engine was still running, heat pouring from the vents.

Sliding closer, he pawed at your tits, one hand dropping to your apex.

His touch was crude, rough, devoid of any finesse. 

He shoved two fingers in your dry channel.

You gritted your teeth.

His mouth descended to your chest, laving and biting the nipples.

Graciously, your body provided some lubrication, Steve’s fingers finding less resistance.

By pure chance his thumb brushed your clit, stomach instinctively contracting.

Like a kid with a new found toy, Steve played with your nub, his harsh touch firing your senses.

You squirmed, embarrassed, his attention firmly on the bundle of nerves. 

He rubbed faster, callused fingers contrasting with the smoother skin.

Heat built, a sure sign of an impending orgasm. 

Horrified at your body’s betrayal, you fought to keep it at bay.

It was a losing battle.

The orgasm washed over you in soft waves, a small moan escaping your locked jaw.

Furious at your internal treason, you elbowed him away.

“Sit down,” you hissed, obviously intending to ride him.

“Not yet. I’ve got a better idea.”

Steve gestured to the hard, plastic shifter. 

You recoiled, revolted at the thought.

“Are you insane? I’m not doing that, no fucking way.”

“Fine.”

He snatched your clothes, tossing them from the car.

“Start walking. By the time you make it to town everyone will know what a whore you are.”

The slump of your shoulders signaled your surrender.

“I don’t…” you fought back tears, “I ..how do I..”

Steve spit on the handle.

“Figure it out before I get bored and leave you here anyway.”

Softly crying, you positioned a knee on each bucket seat, arms braced on the dashboard.

Oh so carefully you descended, unable to stifle a whimper of pain.

He palmed his cock, licking his lips.

“Go on, I wanna see you ride it.”

You bounced haltingly, hyperaware not to take the object too deep.

Steve stomped on the gas pedal, the revving engine vibrating the shifter, sending sparks shooting from your core. 

Shame burned bright with the fresh slick that coated the plastic.

“Holy shit,” Steve muttered, voice low with lust.

He slid a hand between your legs, circling your clit causing you to gasp at the duel sensations. 

“Dirty slut. You’re getting off on this.”

You shook your head, silently pleading with your deceitful body.

Unfortunately, it had other plans.

Muscles tensed as you came again, stronger than the last, Steve supporting you as you shook with tremors.

Your humiliated bliss was short lived. 

“Move.”

Hesitation earned you another slap.

Extricating yourself, he opened the driver’s door, dragging you with him. 

Turning you around, Steve shoved your face down, leaving your lower half exposed, legs straight, ass in the air, gravel cutting the soles of your bare feet.

You stifled a scream as buried his cock in one brutal shove, stretching your walls to their limit. 

He clutched your hips, holding you steady.

“Fucking hell, I didn’t think your pussy’d be so tight.”

“Just,” you hiccuped, “Just hurry up.”

Instantly he changed pace. 

He leisurely slid back and forth, bumping your g-spot.

“Maybe I’ll cum inside you,” he mused.

“No, God no,” you blubbered, “Don’t..don’t do that.”

You reared up, trying to escape but Steve held you in place, your struggles egging him on.

“Been trying to knock Betsy up for a few months, insurance policy so’s she don’t leave.”

Tears streaming, you begged, “Don’t do this…I’m not on anything.”

“I bet you’d be cute, all fat, tits swelled up.”

“Please, please, please,” you sobbed, “Please don’t.”

The head of his cock nudged your puckered hole.

This time you couldn’t contain the scream.

Snot and tears mingled on your face.

“Poor baby, I thought you’d like taking a dick in the ass.”

He thrusted deeper, gaining enjoyment from your pain.

“Ass or cunt? Your choice. Either way I’m blowing a load in you.”

Picking the lesser of two evils you whispered.

“Ass.”

“Good choice.”

Forcing your body to relax, you swept a finger across your still sensitive nub, praying for a distraction. 

“Piece of friendly advice Sweetheart.”

He punctuated the words with the snap of his hips. 

“Don’t leave your car alone at strange gas stations.”

You wanted to rage at his revelation, howl at the moon for this cruel twist.

Steve fucked you mercilessly, bruises forming on your hip and ass.

You lashed at your clit, shutting out everything  but the blooming pleasure.

Unbidden, your hips rocked to meet his body, caught in spasms as you came.

He followed, hips pumping erratically, rope after rope of warm, sticky cum coating your insides. 

Sated, he withdrew, buckling his jeans, tossing your clothes at your feet.

You dressed, shuddering both from the cold and his assault, folding yourself gingerly back in the passenger seat. 

“Check this out,”

You glanced over, eyes dull from crying.

Your mouth dropped open.

Another video, this time of you riding the shifter to orgasm, displayed.

“You fucking asshole,” you shrieked, pummeling him with your fists, “You said…”

“I didn’t say shit,” he smirked again, holding the phone just out of your reach, “It’s a  little extra motivation to keep your trap shut. I mean who knows, I might wanna get my dick wet again before you leave.”

You dove for the phone, managing to bite his wrist, drawing blood.

“Fucking cunt!”

He dropped the phone, wrapping both hands around your throat.

“I own you bitch! You hear me! I’ll post this on PornHub. You won’t be so high and mighty then will you!”

The fight left with each denied breath, until you laid still, tears once more flowing down your face.

Steve let go, straightened his jacket, popping the car in gear.

He sped off, humming along to the radio.

Curling into a ball, you stared blankly out the window, wishing in vain you’d taken your chance with the coyotes. 

Breakdown/Tom Petty and the Heartbreakers/1976

@fanfic-fangirl @mcudarklibrary @caffiend-queen @alexakeyloveloki @americasass81 @lokislastlove @sweeterthanthis @sweater-daddiesdumbdork @ironlady1993 @joannaliceevans-fanficblog @nildespirandum @jennmurawski13 @starynighty @sapphirescrolls @momc95 @sagechanoafterdark @jtargaryen18 @demonsandpieohmy @cockslutpadalecki @dangertoozmanykids101 @lizzystuffsthings @shikin83 @km-ffluv

@sinceimetyou @buckybarnesandmarvel @imdarkinme @xsapphirescrollsx @xoxabs88xox @inlovewiththefictionalcharacters @titty-teetee @saiyanprincessswanie @dragon-of-dreams

IF I DIDN'T TAG YOU AND YOU'D LIKE TO BE TAGGED LET ME KNOW. IF I DID TAG YOU AND YOU DON'T WANT TO BE I APOLOGIZE AND PLEASE LET ME KNOW SO I DON'T TAG YOU IN ANY FUTURE FICS.

#DARK STEVE AU X READER #DARK STEVE AU AND READER #DARK STEVE ROGERS AU X READER #DARK STEVE ROGERS AU AND READER #DARK STEVE AU #DARK STEVE ROGERS AU #DARK STEVE #DARK STEVE ROGERS #DARK #DARK AVENGERS #DARK AVENGERS AU #MEAN STEVE #MEAN STEVE ROGERS #COUNTRY BOY DICK

[aftgsucks]

NMFTG ch 23

Operation Easthaven (it's not actually that complicated)

THe team scrambles to get Andrew out of easthaven under the cut: ao3

Coach took Neil at his word and ushered the Foxes down the hallway and out of the building. Neil ignored everyone’s continued questions in favor of continuing to bleed out of his face and freak the fuck out. 

What the hell could he even do? What could Renee do? Burn the place down? A bomb threat maybe, something to get everyone evacuated, but it wasn’t like Neil knew which doctor Riko had paid off. And there was no telling what protocols the place had for that sort of situation. Or what would happen to Andrew if the law decided he was breaking the terms of his parole. Everything could just get worse if Neil ran off half-cocked. 

Neil was in possession of a varied criminal career that covered a lot of areas, rehab centers and consequently breaking a guy out of a rehab center to protect him from evil rapist doctors were not covered in any of those aforementioned areas. 

If only he could still ask Mary for advice. As if she’d say any anything other than Abram what the fuck do you think you’re doing, you’re name is now Mitch Blanc and you’re moving to Siberia. Forget about the goalie. You suicidal wretch. 

Coach unlocked the bus and Neil pulled Renee away to the side to explain everything to just her. Except no one got on the bus and everyone just kept talking. 

“Neil, please let me look at your nose.”

“What did Riko say about my brother?”

���Those fucking Ravens.”

“What did Kevin mean by if?”

“Jesus Christ Neil could you explain just one thing for once.”

“I swear to god Kevin I don’t care if Andrew stabs me.”

“Let’s just beat the shit out of Riko, who even cares why.”

“Nathaniel--” Kevin was so quiet, no one but Neil even heard him. But Neil heard it like a gunshot.

“DON’T CALL ME THAT,” Neil slapped a hand against the side of the bus. Everyone shut up. Neil wrestled with his lungs. “I’m Neil,” he managed to get out. Neil turned to Kevin. Kevin was pale and terrified and Neil could not find an ounce of care for his feelings. Not on this. “I’m Neil,” he repeated. 

Kevin nodded. His right hand was wrapped around his left, both pulled close to his chest as if waiting for a rebreak. Already flinching from what he thought the son of the Butcher would do to him. And Neil found an ounce. 

Neil dragged in a full breath. “Kevin, I’m not going to hurt you.” 

“I know,” Kevin said, his voice still too quiet. “I’m sorry.” 

“What the hell did he even call you?” Seth asked. 

“Who cares about that,” Nicky yelled. “I couldn’t give less of a fuck whatever weird slur Kevin called Neil to make him snap! One of you two is telling me right now what Kevin meant by ‘if Andrew comes back,’ or I am hitting the both of you with Coach’s bus.” 

“No, you will not be doing that,” Coach said. “All of you get on the bus right now and Neil will explain on the way back to Palmetto. And I swear to God if you all keep squawking at each other you will all be running back.” 

Everyone got on the bus. 

Abby made Neil sit next to her so she could look at his nose. Everyone else dead silent as she set it and tapped it and then offered Neil pain meds that he immediately refused. Once she was done Wymack started the bus and pulled onto the road. 

“Okay, what happened?” Dan asked in her authoritative, do not disobey me captain’s voice. 

Even if he had to say this in front of everyone, Neil still stood up and looked directly at Renee. “Riko bought one of the doctors at Easthaven, we need to get Andrew out before he ends up dead.” 

Everyone lost their collective minds. A discordant chorus of “elaborate,” and “Coach turn this bus around right now.” And Neil struggled to ignore it. Especially as Aaron actively grabbed him by the suit collar, hissing and shaking like a feral cat. 

“I’ll call Betsy,” Renee said, already pulling out her phone. 

“Didn’t she sign over care or something,” Neil asked, leaning around Aaron to talk to her. Nicky had very loudly complained about that, that not even Dobson could get a message to Andrew. 

“She’s still the best place to start,” Renee got up and went to the back of the bus. 

“Aaron, you need to calm down,” Neil pulled Aaron’s hands off of him. 

“Are you seriously telling me to calm down right now?” 

“What part of shaking me do think will help Andrew?” 

“Well, clearly Kevin thought hitting you would fix something,” Allison so very helpfully said. 

“Riko said if Neil went to Evermore Andrew would be safe,” Kevin said, his voice flat with a bottle of vodka in his lap. 

“That’s bullshit and we all fucking know it. All Riko wants is to fucking kill one of us, drugging Seth, sending that moron after Renee, Drake ending up across the country to surprise Andrew. This is just another goddamned hairbrained scheme to put one of us in the ground. If Andrew hadn’t gone to rehab he would have just tried to blackmail me into spending my break getting poorly tortured to death in his goth fucking torture room. If we leave Andrew in Easthaven he will die. If I go to Evermore I will die and Riko can still do whatever the fuck he wants to Andrew. And you know as jazzed as I am at the prospect of not having to deal with any of this shit anymore. I refuse to have Riko fucking Moriyama be the one to actually kill me. So no, I am not going to Evermore Kevin, Riko is a lying manipulative piece of shit and nothing short of actually getting Andrew out of that place is going to make him safe.” 

“Neil, you need to breathe,” Abby said right behind him. 

And yeah, actually the world was kinda fading out at the edges. Neil sat down. Katelyn was suddenly right next to him, knelt on the floor of the bus, asking him those inane questions about what he could see and hear. Inane because they worked and he hated that. 

When Neil tuned back into the conversation Aaron was talking. “How the fuck do we get him out of there? You idiots barely got him in.” 

“Wouldn’t it be easier to figure out who Riko paid and report them,” Katelyn suggested, one hand still on Neil’s shoulder. “Or break their legs maybe? I don’t know, whatever it takes to stop them from hurting him. Getting the one without the court order out of the court ordered building sounds easier than getting Andrew out.” 

“Holy shit,” Allison awed. “And I was confused about what you were doing with a Minyard. Break some doctor’s legs, what are you a fucking New York City gangster? You gonna tell Riko to sleep with the fishes?” 

“Stop flirting,” Seth complained. 

“How do we even figure that out? Poll the employees, hi have you ever taken money from famed exy star Riko Moriyama,” Matt asked. 

“There has to be something about the doctor that made Riko offer, it’s not like he could have polled the employees to figure out which one would take the money.” Dan said. 

“Easthaven’s supposed to be a good facility, Betsy said it was good. A good place wouldn’t just hire someone with that kind of history.” Nicky said. “Right? She wouldn’t, she wouldn’t have put. She wouldn’t put Andrew in a place--” 

“Nicky, if I have to keep breathing so do you,” Neil said. He just wanted to hit something and have everything be fixed. He wanted a nap or to jump out of the moving bus. He wanted a gun. He was about to suggest the arson, evacuate, grab Andrew plan. Deal with the legal consequences whenever they happened. They didn’t have time to stalk all the employees, not thoroughly enough for whatever thread of depravity had managed to escape the center's background check but not Riko’s.   

“I got an anonymous threat,” Wymack started, loud and final. “From some rival team while we were at the banquet that said a doctor was going to hurt Andrew. With everything that’s happened in the last two years it’s enough to at least get him on the phone. If not get Andrew moved someplace else. Walker,” he called out louder, “give me the phone when you’re done. Betsy and I will get Andrew out of Easthaven and you will all curb your violent criminal thoughts.” 

“Can it be that simple?” Neil asked. “Will anyone take you seriously?” 

“I’ll make them,” Wymack promised. 

And that was good enough. 

If nothing else, Neil was willing to let Coach try first. There was always arson if he failed. 

Renee handed Wymack the phone and Wymack talked to Dobson. Dobson would drive out to Easthaven and Wymack would call ahead to whoever was in charge on his own phone. 

No one pretended to not eavesdrop as Wymack called up the rehab center and started talking about dangerous fans. About how the team had gotten Swatted last year. All of the dead animals and vandalism that came along with the attention of “Raven’s fans,” he spun a good yarn. Wymack did. It helped that all of that was mostly true, with the exception of a lot of it being perpetrated by the Raven’s themselves. 

The whole time he kept the bus at a steady calm pace. Ending with the explanation that Dr. Betsy Dobson needed to speak with the head of Easthaven and Andrew himself to ensure his safety in the face of these threats. 

Quietly, while Coach was still talking, Kevin moved to sit near Neil. He still had that bottle of vodka, unopened, white knuckled in his grip. 

“He wasn’t lying,” Kevin said in low French. 

“No,” Neil admitted in the same language. “He wasn’t.” 

“You’re gonna die,” Kevin said, knowing, solemn, without question. 

“Yeah, I am.” 

“You-- Fuck, Neil you’ve been saying that all year.” Kevin turned to Neil, “have you really been trying to get Andrew to kill you?” He asked. 

“Eh, I could’ve been trying harder.” 

“You’re gonna die,” he repeated, twisting his hands around the bottle. 

“Kevin, enough. I know, there’s nothing anyone can do about it. Trust me, if I could…” Neil trailed off, would he? Really? If he could stop this, magically end everyone who wanted him dead. Erase Nathanial Wesninski from existence, make Neil Josten real and separate and alive. If Neil could do any of that, would he? Or would he just make the end not hurt. It was going to hurt. It was going to hurt so bad, he knew that, he had the proof of concept carved into his skin before he could properly remember it. 

Neil looked at Kevin, “will you still teach me?” He asked. 

“Every night.” 

Neil debated the next question for half a moment before deciding maybe he needed an answer for this one thing. “What did he mean by owning me?” 

“You don’t know?” 

“Assume I’m an idiot.” 

“Shit,” Kevin was wide-eyed. “Uh, when your mother took you, that was your audition. You were supposed to be a Raven. The money you took was the family's money. Your father sold you and then you ran.” 

Well, all things considered his father literally selling him to a homicidal sports cult wasn’t exactly out of character for him. “I didn’t know, she never explained why we left. I never asked.” 

“Why did you think you were there? Why did you think they made us watch your father kill someone?”

“Little league practice,” Neil shrugged. “He made me watch him kill people all the time, it was only strange that you and the other were there.” They were both avoiding names, speaking in French only disguised the conversation so much. 

“If you failed the next day we would have watched him kill you.” Kevin said. 

“He would have killed me for Exy?” Sure, Neil’s father would have stabbed him because it was a little too sunny outside. But disposing of his only son wholesale just for being bad at sports seemed wasteful even for him. 

“You weren’t supposed to exist,” Kevin said. “None of the branches are supposed to have heirs, it would dilute the family’s power.” 

No. No, absolutely not. 

“He works for them?” 

“How stupid are you?” Kevin asked. 

“I was ten when I left, it’s not like anyone sat me down and explained the intricacies of it!” God fucking damn it, everything came back to the Moriyamas. 

“What the hell are you two even arguing about?” Aaron asked. “Kevin, we’ve all wanted to hit Neil but this is just not his fault.”

Neil lost it. He laughed so hard his eyes teared up. Maybe Riko Moriyama would kill him, all he had to do was put in a phone call to his estranged family about where Neil was and that would do it. “C’mon Aaron, give it your best shot. I know you’re still miffed about Halloween.” He said in English, already anticipating the easy no Aaron would give but wanting someone to put him out of his misery nonetheless. 

“You should run,” Kevin said in French. 

“I’m sick of it, Kevin, I’m sick of all of it. I’m here, it’s fine.” Neil told him in French. 

By the time they made it back to the dorms, the sun just peaking out over the skyline. Andrew had been moved to a new facility, strong armed by the combined powers of Wymack, Dobson, and a well documented history of Exy related harassment. The new place let Dobson see him and she reported that Andrew was tired, recovering from his meds, but otherwise unharmed. 

Neil watched Nicky and Aaron be shocked at the degree of relief on the other Foxes. Andrew was safe, they’d gotten him out in time. He’d be back in the new year threatening to stab people and being dramatic. 

But before then, the Monsters were going to New York and Neil needed to pack. 

#no more fucks to give #aftg #all for the game #fanfiction #nmftg

[afpwestcoast]

Colony, Woodstock, NY, 9/2/23

This was the last of a three-night stand at Colony in Woodstock. I missed the first show, but you can find my write-up of the second one here.

The previous show got off to a bit of a slow start (I’m not saying it’s because they didn’t open with Good Day, but I’m not NOT saying that either) but tonight they lit the afterburners from the first beat and never looked back. High energy, excellent execution, with just the right amount of antics and hijinx. Overall a stellar performance.

It was also a landmark event in Dresden Dolls history. The running joke is that when they hand out the set list to the crew before a show a common response is to just crumple it up with a ‘yeah, whatever’ because the Dolls are notorious for not following the set list. Tonight, however, for reportedly the first time in Dresden Dolls history, they executed the published set list to the letter. In response the crew “graded” the list like homework and gave it back to the band marked up as though by a third-grade teacher. After the show Amanda gifted me this remarkable document, suitable for framing.

As she had last November, Amanda hosted a Patreon brunch at the venue on the Sunday following the shows. At the November shows Brian had taken to drumming on the string of lightbulbs running across the stage, breaking several of them. It had been noted that the lights in question had been removed, and the thought was that this was a permanent modification. But no! At brunch on Sunday the lights were back! So this was definitely a Brian-specific alteration.

The highlight of the brunch - by far - was the presentation of a very special gift to Amanda. Melissa, an avid fan and Campersander, hand-crafted a beautiful ukulele and laser-engraved it with the names of everyone who attended the most recent Campersand. It was stunning and Amanda was deeply touched. Since she had never made a ukulele before Melissa was a little nervous about how it would sound, but Amanda played In My Mind on it and it sounded great!

Annotated Set List:

Good Day - The opener that god intended.

Sex Changes

Gravity

Night Reconnaissance

Bad Habit

Mrs. O

My Alcoholic Friends

After torching through the first seven songs without stopping for breath, Amanda paused to take the temperature of the crowd. I was exhausted from the previous night and told her I didn’t know whether I would make it through the set. Amanda responded, “Oh I am going to fuck you,” and then yelled “Everyone tonight gets fucked!” The crowd erupted into cheers at this, causing Amanda to muse about the nature of Dresden Dolls fandom. “It’s a little bit of a cult in some ways.”

Welcome to the Internet (Bo Burnham cover)

Amanda said they were about to play some brand new songs and asked that they not be recorded, but then said, “Before we play you that newnewnewnew stuff we’re gonna play an old old old old old one. … I am going to play you the very first Dresden Dolls song I ever wrote. I was 15 when I wrote this song.”

Slide

She then told the story of the Director of her high-school musical stopping a rehearsal to yell, “Amanda! You can’t sing!”, which is the source of the line Sing for the teachers who told you that you couldn’t sing in the song Sing. 

Whakanewha (pronounced fuckin-A fa)

Boyfriend in a Coma

Before heading into the brand new material Amanda placed an order with the bar. Manhattan, up, in a small glass, in case you’re wondering.

Mister God - This is Amanda’s new favorite song; she thought it was good … and then Brian ran it through his rigorous criteria in the Test Kitchen and turned it into fire!

Houdini

The band came to the front of the stage for the next song and Amanda used Betsy (stilt-walker extraordinaire) as a footrest.

Mein Herr

Merch Commercial

Ultima Esperanza

Coin-Operated Boy - During this song Brian had some sort of mechanical issue with his kit and eventually gave up, left the stage, and came and stood with us in the crowd. I handed him my phone and he proceeded to stare at it like the kid in the back with the phone who refuses to sing, which is actually a bit of a sore point. Eventually everything was sorted and the band played on.

Half Jack

— —

Girl Anachronism

Sing

Photo Gallery:

Amanda came out over-dressed.

Whole lotta drummin’ goin’ on!

Brian is having a moment.

Welcome to the Internet.

The Dresden Dolls are essentially a hair band.

Mein Herr! (Betsy is the best footrest.)

Brian is a vampire.

The first ever perfectly-executed set list!

Left: Lights removed from Brian’s reach during the show. Right: Lights replaced for Sunday brunch.

Amanda playing a beautiful ukulele hand-crafted by Campersander Melissa. It sounded great!

#dresden dolls #amanda palmer #colony

[girlwithwolftatoo]

The Devil and the Flower -chapter 3

Summary: More flashbacks featuring the one and only Vance Hopper!

Twilight Zone

Reactions to the commotion were mixed: some watched, surprised, at a safe distance as Vance Hopper pounced on his rival in turn, others turned away or to small children, looking disapprovingly at the wrestlers. Violet took advantage of the pharmacist's distraction to grab a pack of cigars from the counter and hurriedly tucked them into her pants.

The girl disappeared from the scene before the police arrived, and sat down on the emergency stairs of an old warehouse. Mrs. Betsy resented the cigar smoke, claiming that her husband had smoked all his life and now she couldn't even smell the tobacco without throwing up, although Violet thought she was just saying that to annoy her. 

She heard footsteps approaching in a hurry and instinctively put the pack away and extinguished the cigarette. It turned out to be Hopper, who skidded on the loose gravel and crouched under the stairs; his eyes glanced up and he noticed Violet, so he put a finger to his lips indicating silence. Violet held on to the handrail and, leaning over, whispered:

"Who's coming?"

"Who do you think? The pigs" It was the boy's way of referring to the police and Violet understood. 

"You won't have much luck here, go behind the dumpster," she instructed him. The howl of the patrol car alerted the two teens, and Vance, after one last look, ran on all fours to the huge aluminum container. Violet remained seated, pretending to stare into nothingness, and the patrol car slid by at half speed not far behind her. 

"Hey," called one of the policemen. Violet pretended not to hear him, looking down at her hands "Hey!" with disdain, she turned her head "Have you seen a boy come through here? Blond, long hair..."

Violet couldn't help but grimace. Pigs. What a great way to call them.

"I just got here, I haven't seen anyone" she blurted out. The policeman nodded, none too pleased, and the patrol car continued on its way. Violet sighed and, as the car turned down an avenue, she took another cigarette and lit it. 

Vance emerged from his hiding place and approached the stairway. He had blood on his fists and shirt, but aside from a bruise beginning to darken on his left cheekbone, he was unharmed.

"Do they know where you live?" asked Violet "Because if they do, you better stay hanging around in the gutter or something, because they're going to be looking for you there."

"Have they taken you before?" asked the boy. Violet looked at him, exhaling a perfect circle of smoke. Vance was something like a year younger than her, but everyone knew he was a troubled boy, violent when the situation was right for him, and the younger ones secretly feared and admired him. 

"Once" she replied, averting her eyes "His cars all smell the same, like pickle-"

"Pickle and coffee" Vance added, looking at his hands "Fuck, I've never seen anyone bleed like that before."

"Put hot water and baking soda, that'll take the blood off the shirt."

"Really? Whatever you say... Would you mind giving me one?" Vance pointed to the cigarette, and Violet pulled out the pack. Yeah, why not? At the end of the day they were both a couple of juvenile delinquents in their own way, and besides...Vance was the first one to talk to her in over a year without reference to "it."

After a couple of puffs, Vance plopped down on another of the steps, smiling.

"What's your name?" he asked her.

"Does it matter much?" the girl got defensive.

"Well, I don't think you want me to call you girlie or babe." 

She licked her lips, looking at the cigarette. 

"Violet"

"Violet?" repeated Vance "Violet from North West High?" the alluded shrugged her legs and nodded, nervous. She had sung victory too soon, she thought, now came the hurtful comments or the uncomfortable questions... "I heard three girls tried to corner you and all three ended up unconscious."

He said it with fascination, almost like a child talking about something exciting he overheard eavesdropping on adults. Violet's eyes opened wide for a moment, confused, then blinked.

"Well, not unconscious...but I think one had to have a nose job, because she didn't show up for many days." 

"Great" Vance smiled "They always say girls are delicate, I don't think so...not you, of course, the guys look at you and say you look tough."

"Violent, a lost cause, a future criminal..." he recited, thinking of Ms. Betsy's words.

"Violent...Violet Violent."

The girl couldn't help but smile.

"It rhymes very well" she commented "Violet Violent, her fists are flamboyant."

"Wow, you're a poet." 

They both laughed, amused. They talked of battles, of blows, of their own and others' blood they had spilled, of how in that town of prudes and jerks anyone with a certain reputation could get away with punishment, how they were outcasts and liked being so... although sometimes, they fantasized about being normal, just Violet and just Vance....

How she craved a cigarette. She had been smoking hours before, drinking, very quiet, and suddenly she remembered Vance Hooper. She had met him in February, and by July, he had disappeared, over the vacations, without a trace. Her family worried but no one else was in a hurry to find him, Vance Hooper would never again terrorize the proper citizens of that ass town, so they hadn't really missed anything.

Would he have taken him, and what ruse would the Grabber have used to get Vance? The kid was tough, and strong, he could have broken his nose or jaw if he had the chance, which implied...he didn't. And if Vance Hopper couldn't get away, what was left for her?

Riiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiing... riiiiiiiiiiiing.....

She blinked, confused. It sounded loud and clear, in that place where no other sound crept in.

Riiiiiiiing...

She sat up, and discovered, surprised, that right on the same wall to which the mattress was attached there was an old, black telephone. And the sound was coming from it. 

Was it a trick of her mind, or perhaps a macabre ploy of the Grabber's? Why was there a damn phone in that place in the first place? But it was still ringing, there was a signal on it, which meant....

She crawled across the mattress and, leaning against the wall to compensate for not being able to use her right foot, staggered over to the phone and picked it up, nervous.

"Hello?" she whispered. Static, just static on the other end. Odd, she thought, off-hook phones didn't make that sound. "Hello!" she exclaimed, the static was vibrating, high-pitched, and it seemed for a moment to hurt her ear....

Violet screamed, the stabbing pain made her drop the speaker, but as she turned her head she encountered a different scenario. She was not in the basement, but in the middle of a desolate street of large, spaced apart buildings. The sky was an impossible steel gray, and in fact, the whole place seemed to share that range of color, it was like a winter picture, but abnormal, eerie..... 

Violet looked at her hands, frightened. No, she did look normal, her hands were shaking but they had the color of life, spots of dried blood and dirt, and her right leg... God, she had no bandages! She rested, worried, her foot on the gravel, and noticed that the pain was gone. Panic gave way to bewilderment, her eyes became accustomed to the monochrome and she recognized the building in which the black telephone was embedded, with its speaker slowly swaying. 

It was the old town warehouse, with its metal stairs that... By God, ascended and ascended until they were lost in the mist, from which fell something that looked like black flakes. Violet looked at the spiral staircase, mangled and rusty, and shook her head.

"I'm dreaming" she whispered "I fell asleep and... I'm dreaming, yes..."

Although she couldn't remember ever having dreams like that before, it didn't surprise her either. She'd been having mind-blowing nightmares for two years now, that one was almost soothing.

"Violet..." a voice called out to her, distant, somewhat (what a way to define it) fuzzy "Violet Violent..."

She spun on her heels. Standing by the phone was none other than Vance Hopper. He wore the same gray color as the rest of the place, except for something blackish on his clothes, and his face, and his arms... No, it wasn't black, it was just very dark... dark red, blood red. Violet's eyes went wide open, and felt her lips quiver. Vance didn't flinch, and pointed to the phone.

Violet knew that in dreams, one sometimes knows instinctively what to do, so she picked up the speaker again and put it to her ear.

"Vance?" she murmured, not taking her eyes off him. The figure in gray grimaced.

"Amazing, of all the places I expected to see you this was the one I least imagined... How nice to see you again, Violet Violent" through the phone, his voice was much clearer.

"What a weird dream." 

"No, it's not a dream... or maybe, what do I know, it looks like the fucking twilight zone in here." 

Violet snorted, smiling almost unintentionally. She liked that Vance was always like that, no filter to speak of.

"Hey, Violet..." he suddenly sounded serious "He got you, didn't he? You're using the phone."

She knew who he was referring to, and nodded.

"I don't get it, I thought that bastard just kidnapped boys" Vance added, thoughtfully.

"Maybe he's... experimenting" 

"Yeah, sure he is... Today you, tomorrow another girl, and another... and maybe he'll move on to adults, I don't know, he's a bastard but it seems to me that there's something going on in his pumpkin head"

"What do you mean?" Violet frowned.

"There are things...things that happen while you're there, and that have happened to others" the boy explained "But you're the first one I can tell, I've been screaming like an asshole for who knows how long and dialing that damn phone...you're the first one to answer"

"The first? You mean..." Violet blanched, about a year ago another boy had disappeared, and only a few weeks before... "There was one before me, wasn't there, what was his name? Robin... Robin something..."

"He was tough as nails, but he could take us down" Vance let out a furious laugh, and after a turn that made him look like a caged lion, he kicked the wall of the warehouse "That son of a bitch is an idiot and a madman, but he knows how to hurt... And now..." he added, looking at her sadly "Now he'll do it to you"

Violet found herself tightening her grip on the speaker. She wasn't afraid of pain, she had experienced it so many times and in so many ways that she couldn't think of many ways a child killer could make her truly suffer.

"Vance...you're dead, aren't you?" she whispered, chagrined.

"Are you serious? Violet Violent, I remembered you as a smart girl" despite his sarcasm, the young woman noticed some frustration in her friend's voice. Then, he reached over, and placed a hand on her shoulder, it felt cold, colder than any snow Violet had ever touched "Don't play along with his game, he will seek to make you do everything he wants, but you must not follow him.... Don't fight, you'll only make your situation worse, you have to outsmart him, you have to find a mistake in his damn calculations, and, when you get out..." his eyes hardened, Violet could sense in them the brave adult he would never become "Bust his balls with those nice boots of yours for me, okay? "

The girl sighed and reached out her free hand, giving his bicep an affectionate squeeze.

"I'm so sorry this happened to you" she knew she was about to cry, but she resisted as best she could.

"I'm sure you're the only one. It doesn't matter" Vance added "Hey, can I tell you something? It's going to sound stupid, but... you were my favorite girl in town."

"And you mine."

"Fuck, we sound like those cheesy movies" scoffed Vance "Take care, Violet Violent, I know you'll survive..."

Her body shuddered, as if she was about to have a seizure. She found her torso lying on the hard floor and her legs still sprawled on the mattress, while the unhooked speaker remained mute. She imagined she had passed out, and slowly sat up, picking up the speaker to talk to it, still immersed in that strange dream.

"Hello?"

Nothing, this time the line was dead. Disheartened, she hung up on it before returning to the mattress. The fall caused her left arm to ache, but she was relieved to see that she had no new disabling injuries. She had been thinking about Vance Hopper and that was why she had that weird dream, she thought, rubbing her arm with a blank stare, that sort of thing happened to people locked up, she knew, that was why inmates and prisoners had so many problems....

She had never seen a real prison, only the ones in the movies on TV. They were similar to that basement, gray walls, very little light... the difference was that there were bars, bars from which the pigs could tease the prisoners or talk to each other, she didn't talk down there with anyone, time had become so relative that she wasn't even sure what day it was. 

Vance was right, it was like the Twilight Zone down there. If only they had been together when the Grabber kidnapped them, they would have found a way out together. But they were alone, she there, he... long before. "Maybe I won't get out..." she whispered. She cried again, cried for her and for Vance, and for the other children, cried as she hadn't in years, when abandonment first settled in her heart. Down there, in that dark prison, she would spend her last days, unjustly, just as she had. "Mom...mom!" she wailed, and hid her face in her hands to sob.

#the black phone #the black phone movie #fanfiction #the grabber #the grabber fanfiction #vance hopper #ethan hawke #blumhouse #brady hepner

[einsteinsugly]

Eric lovingly holds his daughter, until...

@lily-267, because it really isn't possible.

Eric (with puppet strings attached to him, by the creators and writers): Hmm, let's name her Leia. *Dramatically cutting off the strings, freaking out* Y'know, after a character I sexually fantasize about. And screams Star Wars, Star Wars, Star Wars. *Repulsed, screaming at the writers above, waking up baby Katherine, or Kate* Let's not, and say we didn't! Donna (annoyed): They also think you'd make a great Star Wars professor. Eric (also annoyed): I recklessly mused for a whole year so I wouldn't become a Star Wars professor. Or a coveted owner of a local comic book store. Or working at a toy company, because I want more out of my life. And I'm finding it, helping kids in need through the power of education...in 1986.

Tears for Fears begins to randomly blast, via Eric's guardian angel. Who attempts to push the greedy, lazy writers aside, with moderate success.

I made a fire, and watching it burn Thought of your future With one foot in the past, now just how long will it last? Now, now, now, have you no ambitions?

Eric: Kate may be a whoopsy-daisy, but we have our lives together. And we're ready for whatever life throws at us. In 1986! The writers: But we need to set this thing in 1995, and Kate would only be nine. We need a teenager, just like one of you. So they can find a new gang, some doppelgangers, just like the old days. Because we love cheap nostalgia, and we've run out of ideas...

Cut to, Jackie and Hyde, a week later. With Becca happily in Hyde's lap.

The writers (bursting in through the front door): You should've said yes to Michael Kelso's marriage proposal seven years ago. Jackie: Eww, why? The writers: And Hyde needs to be out of the picture. The actor who plays him is on trial for rape. Hyde (particularly repulsed, clenching his fists): Well, fuck him. I would never do shit like that... The writers (looking at Hyde): We need to write him out of the picture. Maybe he can be rotting away in prison. *Turning to Jackie* And you can have a teenage son with Kelso, in 1995. Jackie: Eww, no offense, but your ideas are stupid. The writers: And the actress who plays you is married to the actor that plays Kelso, so...ratings! Jackie: Um, wouldn't I have to have a kid really, really young? And what about Betsy? The writers: Don't care. We're doing the same thing with Eric and Donna, and we're probably going to put your son Jay and their daughter Leia together. Hyde: Forman and Donna would never name their kid Leia. Jackie: Yeah, Donna jokes with him about naming their daughter Leia, so he freaks out and screams like a girl. But it's a joke, and they named their daughter Katherine. And she's really, really cute... Hyde (with a nod): Forman looks better as a girl. Jackie: With freckles and red hair. And our daughter? She's adorable, with my hair and Steven's beautiful blue eyes... The writers: You're going to have a Kelso doppelganger. Jackie (lovingly looking at Becca, who's playing with Hyde's shades): Let's not, and say we didn't! I'm happy here... The writers: And you and Kelso can get married, for the second time, for...

Jackie and Hyde read each other's minds. Jackie takes Becca, and Hyde pushes them out the door, slamming it shut and locking it.

Hyde: I would call the cops, but you know... Jackie: We might get Michael? Hyde: Uh huh. Jackie: But he wouldn't want to let them in, either. He's happy with Brooke and the girls. Hyde: And I'm happy with you. Jackie (with a smile): Not just less pissed off? Hyde (with a nod, sitting on the couch with Jackie and Becca): Not just less pissed off.

Jackie and Hyde kiss.

#that 70s show #that 90s show #jackie and hyde #eric and donna #eric forman #jackie burkhart #donna pinciotti #steven hyde #michael kelso #jackie and kelso #kelso and brooke #my ficlets

[rhodeytony]

say it with me kwannon deserves her own character development kwannon is not defined by betsy kwannon does not deserve to be turned into a token for betsy’s development kwannon does not have to be friends with betsy or forgive betsy or be nice to betsy kwannon does not owe betsy shit. also stop shipping kwannon and betsy when their dynamic and also betsy’s character as a whole was built on 20+ years of racism so just say you don’t view asians as whole characters and go. and what betsy “went through” in terms of narrative shit will never be comparable to 20+ years of racism and fetishization that’s literally still continuing and by shipping them and doing whatever the fuck y’all are doing you’re adding to it. betsy’s entire “personality” when she was psylocke was literally just stolen from kwannon, pretty much everything people like about her was stolen from kwannon. and she deserves her own code name so she’s not associated with betsy but idc about her “taking” the name psylocke or the butterfly betsy already stole decades of kwannon’s life in her body so as far as i’m concerned kwannon can do whatever the fuck she wants with that mantle. kwannon deserves to be her own character defined by herself and she doesn’t need to have any kind of relationship dynamic with betsy. but y’all will just ignore the fact that every aspect of betsy for 20+ years was built on racism and you’ll continue to fetishize asians and act like this is some “both sides” thing when fans try to talk about why they hate betsy bc . like i said you people don’t view asians as whole people 

#brooke shut up #someone asked ppl to tag anti b*tsy but no i wont actually #actually im gonna tag this because im tired of seeing shit takes when im trying to appreciate kwannon #marvel #marvel comics #kwannon #betsy braddock

[dayurno]

under the cut is the kandrew throw down of the year™ aka my attempt at reasoning the ch*king scene in therapeutic context. the events in this happen in betsy’s office, on the grounds that andrew asked her to fix them a few weeks after canon. could probably be the kickstarter for a kandreil fic but who knows. i sure don’t

tw: discussions of abuse, choking, kevin flipping his shit (aren’t you tired of being nice? don’t you just want to go apeshit?)

"You’re a spineless, despicable, selfish, obsessed and self-righteous person—” Andrew starts, a tinge of anger simmering under his words. It’s almost dangerous, but Kevin knew Betsy would throw Andrew out of his room if he tried solving this with his fists. 

Maybe it’s that safety that has Kevin cutting him off, perhaps just as viciously, “You are a man,” he says, pointing a finger in Andrew’s direction. “You are an average, lazy, boring, cowardly, success-fearing man. You have potential and you waste it. You think feeling nothing makes you have the upper hand, but that makes you average. It makes you so-so; irrelevant; not special. You settle because you’re a coward.” He takes a deep breath. “You think violence makes you a man. It does not. It makes you a petulant child with knives.”

“Not so spineless after all,” Andrew snarls, a cold fury settling all over him and tightening his muscles into unbearable tension, as if he was about to snap. 

Kevin does not find fear when he looks for it; most of all, he’s tired. He’s tired of Andrew’s leash and how short it is, he’s tired of pulling at his teeth, he’s tired of up-keeping a deal with a man who did not keep his word in the first place. “Do better, then. Stop acting like a child and do better. You can’t like me if you tried and I’m getting tired of pulling at your teeth.”

“Andrew,” Betsy interrupts before Andrew can —  most likely —  launch himself onto Kevin, “what do you think? How does that make you feel?”

He stares at her fixedly, avoiding Kevin as if he weren’t there. “I think that I want him out.”

She considers it for a second, then says, “No. I can’t let him leave, Andrew. This is the root of all your issues with each other, and you’ve asked me to fix you two. Let me help.”

Andrew takes a long, shuddering breath, so deep Kevin’s own lungs hurt as he follows it. Inhale; exhale. They do it as parallel lines, eyes pointedly away from each other. “I think,” he roughly replies, “that Kevin could simply go back to the Ravens if he wants someone that gets off to Exy as much as he does.”

“Oh, because that’s so mature,” Kevin fumes, at once the forest fire and the leftover ashes. “It’s so easy for you to throw other peoples’ abuse around, isn’t it? Andrew gets to have boundaries, Andrew gets to keep secrets, but God helps anyone who wants to do the same. No one can touch you, but you can hurt people however you want without a single care for the consequences. Doesn’t sound very fucking healthy to me, Andrew. It sounds like someone I know and you won’t like to hear who it is.”

Andrew’s gaze is stone cold. Kevin would shiver if he wasn’t so deep within the flames, and then again —  he's seen worse. If Kevin survived Riko Moriyama, he'll survive anyone.

 “Say it,” Andrew demands. “I dare you. Say it.”

“I don’t fucking do what you tell me to do,” Kevin snaps, struggling to keep his voice down. “I’m not your fucking pet, Andrew. Obedience under the coercion of a knife is not the choice you think you’re giving me.”  

“Is that how you feel?” Andrew asks, dead gazed. His lips are chapped and his hands are balled into fists; shaking with the strength it takes him to hold himself back from giving Kevin another necklace of bruises. “You were not forced to strike a deal with me. You did it out of your own volition. Do not speak of things you do not understand because you want to lash out at me.”

“He thinks I don’t understand what it’s like to not have a choice,” Kevin laughs, a cynical sound choked out of his throat. “Oh, aren’t you farsighted. Before I got out of the Nest, saying ‘no’ to someone was not even in question, Andrew. There are things I still need spelled out for me because I don’t know what it’s like to have personal fucking boundaries. When you choked me, I,” at this point Kevin’s hands are trembling at the same violent rhythm Andrew’s are, though a part of him —  untainted and scared; perpetual in its adolescence —  still thrashes at his insides at the mere thought of arguing back, biting back. “I didn’t even know. I didn’t know that wasn’t a thing you should be allowed to do. I didn’t have a name for that. All I thought was that I was submitted to you, and that it was right, and that I was paying for keeping something from you. I didn’t know and you did it anyways. You took advantage of me.”

Andrew’s entire body tenses up. “I didn’t. I didn’t. If you say something like that again, I’ll kill you.”

“Then be it,” Kevin replies, leaning back against the chair with a slump of his shoulders. “Kill me. Do it. Finish the job you started. Live with yourself afterwards. Live your sad, average, miserable life and feel free to tell me if it’s worth it in the end.”

“Alright, that’s enough,” Betsy holds her palm up in a quieting motion, looking only slightly tipped off by Kevin’s blowout. It was probably the last thing he’d ever say to Andrew —  probably the last thing he’d say at all, if Andrew’s murderous wishes were to be fulfilled —  and he couldn’t bring himself to regret it. “That’s enough, you two. Kevin, do you understand how heavy of an implication that is? You cannot take it back. You know Andrew’s issues with being taken advantage of.”

“But isn’t it, doctor? Isn’t it being taken advantage of?” Kevin spits out, “Isn’t it taking advantage of someone to hurt them from a position of power, thus rendering them unable to defend themselves? I think it is. I think I won’t allow him to make me seem crazy for being angry.”

Betsy blinks for a few seconds, searching for Andrew’s eyes. Andrew, on the other hand, is perfectly still, frozen from the top of his head to the tip of his toes. There is no pride in Kevin to have made him like that —  there is only tiredness, so deep it settles in his bones. His bones; the place he knows Andrew the best in. Kevin sighs, “I’m trying to get better. I’m trying to. But I can’t do that with you using me as your punch bag because you know I won’t hit back, Andrew. I can’t do that.”

“I did not mean to,” Andrew says in a whisper, almost a prayer. “I did not mean to.”

“Andrew,” Betsy calls, her tone unwavering, “breathe. Breathe. You can’t fix this if you’re having a panic attack. You’re with me, you know this. You’re in my office at Palmetto State University. You are safe. You are having a joint session with Kevin.”

“I did not mean to hurt you,” Andrew repeats, and it’s the most vulnerable Kevin has ever seen him. Something in his chest recoils sadly at the sight. “I did not mean to take advantage of you. I was just—  Neil—  I lost control.”

Kevin purses his lips, allowing his bruising heartbeat to will down. “I know you didn’t mean to be cruel. That doesn’t mean you were kind.”

“Okay,” the therapist sighs, adjusting her glasses. “Okay. Andrew, I don’t think Kevin shouldn’t be allowed to manifest his anger in a controlled environment. You hurt him in a way that hindered his own recovery, and triggered memories of his own abuse. You did not mean to bring those memories back, but it has happened all the same. Kevin, do you think this could be fixed?”

He wets his lips, gently thumbing along the skin of his throat where sickly yellow, green and purple bruises were only a few weeks ago. Andrew follows his movements almost obsessively, and something glossy shimmers under the layer of apathy Kevin knows too well; guilt. Self-loathing. Kevin huffs a soft sound, and answers honestly, “I don’t know if I can forgive it in a way that’s healthy.”

She nods. “Thank you for your honesty. Andrew, do you think there is anything you could do to make it up for him?”

Andrew exhales shakily. “He could hit back.”

Betsy frowns, but Kevin beats her to whatever she was going to say by uttering, “No. I won’t put my hands on you.”

It makes Andrew offer him a weird look, though he’s still far, far away, the guilt now a lot more emptier; cotton-white. He looks speechless, so Kevin completes it for him: “I’m not like them. I’m not like…” like you, he wants to say, but wills it away; it would be too cruel. “I’m not going to hit back. I just want… I don’t know, Andrew. I don’t know what you want me to do and I’m tired of having no choice. I'm tired of having the yes choked out of me.”

“I will make it up to you.” Andrew steadies his gaze onto Kevin’s face, gripping the armrest of his chair until his already pale knuckles turn white. It sounds like a promise. “I will make it up to you. You have my word.”

It doesn’t mean much to me right now, Kevin wants to say. Instead, he answers, “Okay,” because really, what else is there to do? Andrew’s word is the best he can offer. There is nothing else he can promise and not even Exy can mend —  whatever this is. Whatever Andrew has made of them. 

“Is there anything else you want to say, Kevin?” Betsy asks, gently, her words a feathery touch skimming down the side of his face. 

Kevin doesn’t answer, staring directly at Andrew, wishing that he could at least hold his gaze for a second, a minute, a lifetime —  enough that Kevin could peel back the years of apathy from him like jackets, meeting Andrew, for once, in all of his mess the same way he has met Kevin’s messes one too many times. “Yes,” he says, and Andrew snaps his gaze towards Kevin with something too akin to shame for it to be any comfort. Still, Kevin holds it like it’s a prize, challenges him, tells him something Andrew might have not believed until now: I am unbreaking. “Wash that look out of your face. It’s a waste of blood and sweat, and I won’t have it in my life or in my Court. You cannot break me. I am angry at you because you tried when you were supposed to have my back.”

“I know,” Andrew answers, his grief razor-sharp and stupefying. “I will not be like them. I will not be like him. I will make it up to you.”

“Good,” Kevin tells him, crossing his arms and baring his teeth. “I’m expensive to keep.”

Betsy looks like she wants to interrupt their relentless stare down; Kevin’s muddy green meeting Andrew’s forest fire hazel, a battle of wills years in the making. Kevin might not hit back outside of Court, but he does not pull away —  he is not the man to do it. If it aches in Andrew, then it should ache and ache and ache, until it balances out the pain he caused; until he rots into something new.

He is just a boy, barely a man, a shadow of what someone with such unrelenting morality should be and act like. Kevin looks at him —  really looks at him, no bias clogging his mind, and what he sees is what he’s always seen; a boy. 

Leave it to the rest of the team to mistake Andrew Minyard for a hero or a villain. Their eyesight is filtered through their own self-beliefs, their opinions are based on their inability to believe others have the same nuance and complexity they believe themselves to have. Kevin Day, though —  he has always had perfectly sharp vision, and he cannot be fooled by sharp knives and dead eyed gazes. He came from men much worse; he sat with the horrors of the world, unflinchingly, long before Andrew did.

If Andrew could only be what he pretends he is.

#all for the game #aftg #kandrew #kevin day #andrew minyard #the foxhole court #neil josten #my writing #kevin #andrew

[willowbird]

For the prompt thing, could you do 2 for au, 4 for trope and 5 for prompt with andreil?

Hogwarts au, meet messy, "you have the emotional capacity of a brick"

Dearest anon, how did you know that I have been literally aching for an excuse to do something with a hogwarts au?

For context, because idk if I'll be able to explain it in the ficlet, Andrew and Aaron have been raised by their real father, Joseph Minyard, and his wife, Betsy Dobson, since the twins were seven. Andrew instinctively retaliated against an abuser with magic when he was in foster care, bringing him to the attention of whatever the US's ministry of magic is called (I forgot). They found his dad, who is a British wizard, and also discovered Aaron's existence. The twins, upon meeting each other and finding out they were wizards, chose to stay together and go with their dad rather than risk potentially being separated in whatever system the US magic people has for orphaned magic kids.

(look, I've been thinking about this A LOT okay?)

The following scene would take place the summer before the twins' fifth year. They are fifteen, Kevin is sixteen, Neil is fourteen.

Please be aware that all these characters are a lot younger and significantly less traumatized. I mean, shit still happened to them, but they all get rescued from their abusive home lives a lot earlier than in canon.

---

Andrew Minyard had lost a bet.

It was a really shitty bet, and Andrew should have known at the time that he was being fucking set up. But, well - what was it that broody fucker always said? Oh. C'est la vie. Or something. Whatever.

Point being, Andrew made a stupid bet and then he lost and it was really his own damn fault. Now he was stuck going to stupid Kevin Day's stupid house to play stupid broom-ball over summer break when he could have been basking in the wonders of muggle efficiency like television and air conditioning. What made it worse was that his mom had been so damn delighted that he was going over to a friend's house, too, and Andrew didn't usually have it in him to smash her hopes and dreams when she was so genuinely happy for him.

So. Here he was, broom in hand (because if he had to do this he was at least going to suffer with the familiarity of his own fucking broom), staring up at obviously haunted creaky old manor house that Day apparently lived in.

"Great," he grumbled to himself. "Just.. great." Andrew did not like ghosts, did not like them one fucking bit. They always wanted to chat you up and had absolutely no respect for personal space.

The longer he delayed, though, the longer Day was probably going to force him to participate in his bullshit "training camp", so Andrew straightened his shoulders and trudged up the cracked stone staircase that lead up the hill to the front door of the house. The very second Andrew had both feet on the dilapidated front porch, one hand reaching for the knocker, the front door began to swing slowly open. You know, as they were wont to do in creepy old ghost-infested houses owned by wizards.

Without waiting for a welcome (because the door fucking opened for him, that was invitation enough), Andrew strolled inside. He didn't even flinch when the door slammed shut behind him.

(Okay, maybe he jumped a little bit. Just a little.)

No one was waiting for him in the foyer, because of course that would be too easy. At least the inside of the house didn't look as abandoned as the outside did. On the contrary, the foyer was well-lit and free dust and cobwebs. It opened up into a round sitting room that looked lived-in rather than haunted, personal affects strewn about here and there in vaguely organized chaos and family pictures on the mantle above the fireplace.

This, Andrew had learned quickly upon his introduction to the magical world about seven or so years ago now, was fairly common when it came to magical families living in and around muggle neighborhoods. Sure, there were wholly wizarding villages, but not a ton of them. Most of the magical community had to coexist or at least peripherally exist with the muggle one. With the work of a couple of charms and a heavy dose of aesthetic, a magical family could live comfortably without the muggles looking too closely - and even if they did look closely, it was the haunted old house at the end of the street so strange things were bound to happen around it, right?

Homey as it may be on the inside, it was still actually haunted, though. Andrew had a good sense about ghostly lairs and this was definitely one of them.

Heaving a sigh, Andrew moved through the sitting room and ventured deeper into the house. The sooner he found Kevin, the sooner he could leave.

The rest of the house, Andrew swiftly found, was an uncanny combination of the haunted image it presented to outsiders and the cozy haven of the front sitting room. The hall leading off the sitting room was normal when you looked down it heading away from the sitting room, but when Andrew looked back over his shoulder it was like looking into something out of a cheap horror film (of which Andrew had viewed many, much to his father and brother's chagrin, but his mother liked to critique them with him).

Andrew checked each door he came across. Some of them were locked. Some opened into perfectly normal coat closets and bathrooms. At least one of them opened onto an actual cemetery where a bunch of ghosts were playing croquet. Andrew quickly shut that door before any of them tried to talk to him.

It was when he came to the staircase, however, that he finally started to get somewhere. Voices could be heard when he hit the first landing, but they completely vanished when tried to move beyond it - either further up the stairs or out into the hall. Turning to inspect the walls, Andrew realized that one of them wasn't actually a wall at all, but an illusion -- his hand right through!

"This is getting ridiculous," Andrew grumbled to himself as he stepped through the goddamn fucking wall.

He found himself in a wide, clean hallway bathed in the bright sunlight that was streaming in from the skylights placed every few feet. From one of the open doors a bit down the hall, Andrew could finally make out the words of what was obviously an argument.

"How many times do I have to tell you that I'm not going to your bloody school, Day?!"

"You can't just not go to school, Neil! The Ministry will have your wand, and then where will you be?"

"Oh come off it, do you really still buy into all that regulatory shit? They can't track me if I'm not a student unless they have an open warrant out on me. I could turn the corner store into a giant anthropomorphic pig that pisses coffee and they wouldn't know it happened until the story hit the local news, and even then they'd have a hard time tracking me down, considering those lazy twats barely even know how to read let alone track a rogue wizard."

"Galloping Gargoyles, Neil. Where in Merlin's name do you come up with this shit."

"It's called an imagination, Day. I was able to foster one while not being indoctrinated into the sheep-brain miasma that is Ministry-approved wizarding society."

This 'Neil' was getting more worked up as he spoke, spitting out his words like he was crafting a very pointed hex. There was the scuff of footsteps and a shadow fell across the hall as someone stepped toward the hall. "I'll be leaving now, thanks. Have fun being institutionally programed to fit the conservative mediocrity."

A larger shadow blotted out most of Neil's. "You can't just go, Neil!"

There was a scuffle, then a short kid wearing oversized robes stumbled into the hall. "Try and bloody catch me then, you lumbering infant of a Bandersnatch!" And then the kid turned and bolted down the hall -- right toward where Andrew had paused to eavesdrop on their conversation.

Now, Andrew was all ready to step aside. This was none of his business, after all. If this mouthy kid wanted to run away and join the circus or something, more power to him. He, also, thought school was a nightmare. But then Kevin stumbled out into the hall and shouted, "Andrew! Block him!"

And, well. Look. This was all fucking Kevin's fault. Kevin and his stupid cross-House quidditch club and his obsession with running drills. It was also Nicky's fault, for forcing them all to go so they could bond or what the fuck ever the purpose was. But Kevin shouted 'block!' and Andrew had spent two years as a beater and one year as a keeper and, well, reflexes kicked in.

He blocked.

Except, he had spent two years as a beater, and he was holding a broom. So.

His arms moved on their own, and it was a mighty, vicious swing. The next second the kid was flat on his back, gasping to try and catch his breath. Kevin loped over on legs too long, shooting Andrew an appreciative grin that Andrew kind of wanted to punch off of him.

"What.. the.. actual... fuck..." the kid - Neil - wheezed from the floor.

Now that he was officially drawn into this mess, Andrew allowed himself to indulge his curiosity and slung his broom up against one shoulder to approach the fallen boy. He felt a little bad (okay, more than a little), so he figured he'd offer him a hand up at least. Except, when he got to the kid and looked down he was shocked to find just about the prettiest boy in the whole Nimue-cursed universe.

(Andrew's gay awakening had happened when he was twelve years old. The keeper of the Gryffindor quidditch team smiled at him and told him he'd make a pretty good beater. Andrew had tried out for his own House team the very next week, and it had all been downhill from there.)

Andrew cleared his throat and opened his mouth to say something cool and unbothered, because that's what you did when you met someone pretty and wanted to impress them. Instead, like the utter dork that he was, he said, "Red hair and a hand-me-down robe? You must be a Weasley."

"What the fuck is a Weasley?" the sharp, pretty boy on the floor shot back through gritted teeth, pushing himself up into a sitting position.

Kevin's obnoxious shadow fell across the both of him and he sighed, putting his hands on his hips. "Don't mind Andrew, he remembers everything he hears and has a tendency to regurgitate random lines from other things when he feels awkward or anxious."

"Don't mind Kevin," Andrew followed up conversationally, "he's an insufferable know-it-all with a tendency to overshare and force people to play stupid broom-ball when they should be having a perfectly air-conditioned summer break."

"You emotionally wound me."

"You have the emotional capacity of a brick, don't try me Day."

Kevin rolled his eyes. Neil honed in on Andrew with eerie intensity. "You have an air-conditioner?"

Aha! Mission accomplished: cute boy impressed.

Andrew smirked. "Yup." He popped the 'p', feeling quite good about himself, his earlier bumble placed in the back of his head where he could obsess about it later.

Neil's narrowed eyes scanned him up and down, then relaxed, the blue of them bright and intelligent. He looked like he was figuring something out about Andrew but Andrew had no idea what or why. It took some effort, but instead of squirming he met Neil's gaze full-on. After a long moment, Neil seemed to have made a decision. He pushed himself up to his feet and nodded. "Alright then. You play quidditch?" He gestured to Andrew's broom with the jerk of his chin.

He hadn't noticed it earlier because he'd been so fascinated with the argument itself, but now that he could focus on Neil's voice, Andrew realized that there was something of about his accent. It wasn't that it seemed fake but more that it... it reminded him of his own, back when he'd been younger and had only been in England for a couple of years. He remembered being teased for it, and getting into a lot of fights because of that. Well, he remembered getting into fights because Aaron was also teased, and no one picked on his brother but him.

"I thought you were going to run off and join the circus." Andrew arched a brow.

Neil wrinkled his nose. "No. I'm still not going to your stupid castle school." He paused and looked from Andrew to the broom back over to Kevin and sighed. "But... one or two games of quidditch before I go can't hurt."

Kevin looked overjoyed. He grinned at Andrew and Andrew supposed that they really must be friends now, because he felt quite pleased about that.

"Great!" said Kevin. "Let's go! We should be able to get in some warm-up rounds before the others get here!"

"Others?" Andrew and Neil said with identical inflections of disdain. The sound of an echo startled the both of them and the looked at each other. Then, Neil smiled.

Andrew supposed a day without AC playing stupid broom-ball wasn't so bad after all.

Fun little prompt things

#asks #ficlet prompts #aftg #aftg fanfic #andreil #hogwarts au #andrew minyard #neil josten #kevin day #andrew minyard x neil josten #did this turn into more of of a meet-cute? #meet messy #meet cute

[crtalley]

actually fuck it i want to talk about loyal, long post below the cut

so basically i’m fucking with the worldbuilding but think like. 30s-40s tech with an 00s culture where the whole cultural landscape is torn by this internal war on innocent people and there’s a wide split between people who are on the side of the state and people who. aren’t

but basically there’s a huge government-sponsored private industry of witchfinders, headed by what is effectively the largest private police force slash army in this world, which is owned by axel drake, aka theophon drake’s obscenely rich grandfather, aka basically whatever betsy devos’s brother is up to now but with jeff bezos’s money

theo ofc agrees with his family’s politics not only because it’s dangerous for him if he doesn’t but because -- he’s been raised with them, they make sense in his head. he IS the indoctrinated child of magic cops

witchfinders, more or less, are exactly what they sound like -- they root out street witches and other unregistered magic users and basically shove them into a drake-owned magic prison system

this is not an addiction metaphor

anyway theo has premonitions and has successfully predicted at least four separate major occurrences in his family in the last five years but he refuses to believe it’s magic because that’s dangerous yo. but also he’s confided in certain people about this (important to the plot) which makes him a target for detainment by his own grandfather’s forces (who he is training to join)

then there’s nix -- nicolet eliason -- whose sister was killed in a public massacre by drake’s witchfinders five years ago and thus she holds a very reasonable grudge, except she ends up saving theo’s life from a kidnapping and witch-drowning attempt before she knows who he is

then she finds out he’s theophon fucking drake and she’s like. i should have left you in the fucking bay. can i undo the events of the last eight hours i would like to kill you please

anyway nix finds out he has magic and she now has blackmail on like the twelfth-most-important person in the city, which she uses to manipulate him into helping her investigate the internal system of the witchfinders, since there’s little to no accountability and the majority of street witches simply disappear in custody

she (local anarchist with approximately one nice outfit) pretends to be a journalist so that theo can get her into nice places and at one point has to sit in a room with the man who ordered her sister’s execution and not say a word about it

theo is an absolute jackass to her at first when he’s, you know, being blackmailed, but then has a grudging respect for her once he figures out that when she says she wants a better future for witches she’s . including him. like no one has ever included him in anything. he’s always been left out for one reason or another.

anyway he has trouble imagining himself as part of society and not a step away from it so there’s this growing divide between him and nix even though he feels beholden to her bc she saved his life (and broke a premonition), and maybe she’s pretty cool to hang out with, and maybe it’s strange to have so many different worldviews in his life now, but there’s also a growing divide between him and his grandfather and his family where they’re pretty sure he’s getting involved in illicit shit

anyway one of the major themes is loyalty hence;;; the title

and also there’s a major nb character whose name is leslie who is chronically late to everything. and a talking tree. and a sentient (but not sapient) magical city. i think it’s pretty cool

#in which ve talks #wip: loyal #i just think it's neat okay #also if you think i can get through one wip without a soft romance you're wrong

[whatmack]

i know you wrote about neils twin liam a while ago (which btw was amazing) but anyway i was wondering if you were gonna write a bit more about it including more about how andrew felt about liam being back in neils life since he felt like neil didnt need him anymore cuz his brother is back in his life and they both rlly close

Anonymous asked: will you be doing anymore HCs on neils twin brother

Anonymous asked: hey hru i know u posted about neils secret twin a while ago but i was just wondering if your planning on doing anymore headcannons fore them i understand it u dont want to have a great day stay safe 

--

Betsy has seen a lot in her years as a therapist. Her job is not to chronicle, but to listen and to help, but if she were to spin what she’s learned down into one phrase it would be-- well. It would probably be something along the lines of kindness is seldom wasted or everyone has a story or appropriate support will always be more effective than incarceration, because there’s still a bit of the bright-eyed high schooler choosing her major left inside her, but another phrase would be that people are never as fucked up, or as normal, as they think they are.

For instance: she is sitting before two halves of two different pairs of identical twins, one whom has gone through deeply traumatic circumstances that are extraordinary and one whom has gone through deeply traumatic circumstances that Betsy wishes were not so common, and the thing currently making them snap at each other is that they’re jealous.

“I didn’t ask Andrew to take care of him,” Liam says, wound-tight and prim. It’s a deliberate contrast to how Andrew is sprawled over the couch, dirty sneakers kicked up on the cushions. Andrew’s posture, of course, is a deliberate contrast to Liam’s propriety. Betsy is fairly certain they both realize what they’re doing, but not how much insecurity it gives away.

Look how polite and controlled I am, Liam is saying. Listen to my clipped accent and my film-perfect posture. You trust me, don’t you? This is what people trust here? This is what you expect?

I am very scared, and I am trying to appear that I am not, because that is how I’ve learned to feel safe, Andrew is saying. Betsy can read him better. He’s been hers for longer, after all. “Neil made that choice on his own,” Andrew says out loud. “That surprise you? That he can think for himself?” Betsy hides a sigh, long practiced at the motion. She’s requested that Andrew refrain from stabbing people in her office, but Andrew’s glare is all dagger. Small steps forward are still steps. Liam’s lips flatten, and he glances down for just a second. It’s the same thing he does every time somebody calls Neil by that name. It’s also the same thing Neil does when somebody points out one of his lies. Betsy wants to explore that with Liam-- but not while Andrew is here. “Did it surprise you, Andrew?” Betsy asks him instead, keeping her voice stubbornly calm through the thorny field that radiates out from between the two boys. It’s not refusing to see the spikes. It’s refusing to be cut by them. “He’s an idiot,” Andrew says automatically. Betsy smiles at him. It wasn’t so long ago that he’d refuse to speak about Neil as well. Now it is Andrew’s turn to look away.

Liam shifts even further forward, jaw clenching. Before he can lash out, Betsy asks, “What are you thinking, when you hear Andrew call your brother an idiot, Liam?” She may as well have slapped him witha brick wall. His face, patterned so closely to Neil’s that Neil’s scars seem an awful taunting, closes even more. His eyes go from burning to utterly cold. “Nothing,” he says.  Betsy stares back serenely. She’s cracked harder eggs than Liam Stuart. (David wouldn’t trust an outsider with his kids. It can take feral Foxes a while to remember that.) “Nothing,” Andrew mocks. He scoots down completely, so his feet are kicking the armrest. He knows Betsy doesn’t like it when he does that, which is the reason he does. Nowadays it makes her have to suppress a smile. “How wide does the abyss yawn, I wonder? Neil told me he was no one. Didn’t even mention you.” She will return to that with Andrew later, Betsy thinks; Andrew has called Neil nothing and nobody enough. She makes a note on her pad. Four eyes track her hand, suspicious. She lets the silence linger, lets the two of them feel that moment of unity against her. “Now, last time you mentioned Friday?” Betsy asks Liam, when the silence is about to snap. “You wanted to discuss plans with Andrew?” “My brother’s not going with you,” Liam says immediately. He turns his head for the first time this session to look full-on at Andrew. Small steps. “I know you’ve gotten used to doing whatever you want with him--” Andrew’s fists clench. Betsy leans forward, pitching her voice low, and firm. “Andrew. Liam has told you how he sees things. Is that what you think is true?” He breathes in and out, rapidly. His eyes are angry; he hates that he needs this kind of help. Eventually he flexes his fingers and clears his throat. “No.” Liam makes a noise of disbelief.  The two of them do have a long way to go.

“I want you two to focus on the physical sensations in your bodies right now,” Betsy says. It’s time for a little bomb diffusion. “What are some of the things you can feel? Is there any tension, maybe? Anything you notice?” Andrew closes his eyes and concentrates, but Liam stares out the window, a crystal-clear refusal. Betsy wishes...she needs more time. She’s not going to rush him, but she can’t be sure that nobody else will. Neil sees himself as a wanted man. This is not, Betsy thinks to herself a little wryly, what he means.

#hmm #liam neeson's knees son #my fics #these sessions are very frustrating for all concerned #they're going to them because they love neil #but that is the only reason at all #Anonymous #liam: hes MY brother!!! #andrew: he's MY nothing!!! #neil: technically i think i belong to ichirou moriyama

[v-vvia]

some kevaaron for you hungry sluts

Aaron Minyard was going to become a doctor. There were no exceptions, deviations-this was a fact. He grew up what could possibly be considered Hell on Earth, and he wanted to live a normal life. Of course, as soon as he scribbled his messy signature onto David Wymack’s contact that basically sold his soul to the exy coach for five years, he should have known his life would be anything but normal. Aaron should have known when he was adopted by his very much homosexual cousin and reunited with his psycotic twin brother that his life would never be normal. 

Kevin Day was going to be a professional exy star. He really had no other option, thanks to the Japanese yakuza. His life wasn’t normal and he knew it was never going to be normal. After leaving The Nest, Kevin had to learn how to be a member of society. He didn’t know how to make friends or be his own person. He didn’t know how to live. Being introduced to the Foxes was a big adjustment, but they accepted him and his crankiness. They were more of a family than he could ever ask for in life. 

Aaron, after moving out of the monster’s dorm, would find his way back to the hell pit every so often. Living with Matt meant an endless supply of coffee to fuel his long nights of studying. Yet, there was something missing. Maybe it was Andrew’s cold stare as he drank milk straight from the carton. Maybe it was Nicky’s late night video chats with Erik, keeping them all up with his loud voice. Most of all, maybe it was Kevin’s constant need to be warm. 

Aaron swore that dorm room was set at seventy-five degrees, even in the sweltering summer heat. He hated it after a long and hot practice but, now that Matt kept the windows open in the winter, he missed it. 

Which is how he, at quarter to one in the morning on December 13th, found himself carrying his bag full of textbooks and a blanket pulled from his bed into the monster’s dorm. Andrew and Neil weren’t anywhere to be found but, Nicky and Kevin sat in the beanbag chairs in front of the TV. Nicky was losing his patience trying to teach Kevin how to play some video game. Kevin looked like he was about to burst a vein in his forehead. They both turned when the door opened. 

“Well, if it isn’t my long lost son,” Nicky said happily with a grin. 

“Not your son,” Aaron replied, used to this. “I don’t think you could produce a child this good looking.” 

“Ouch! Savagely burned by my own flesh and blood!” Nicky dramatically placed a hand to his heart. He fell back against the beanbag. “After all I’ve done for you! I’ve washed your underwear and cum socks and this is the repayment I get? You’re lucky I don’t ground you, mister!”

“Do you know how to shut that mouth of yours?” Aaron practically collapsed onto the couch behind the two, letting out a sigh as he dropped his heavy bag. 

“Do you know how to ever take a break?” Nicky retorted, looking back at the cousin with only a face that could be described as a motherly Latino ‘you did not just sass me, child’ face. “Seriously, dude. You’re up until ungodly hours of the night and then you get up at 6 to make it to morning practice. And aren’t you taking like, 18 credits? You sir,” Nicky pointed a finger. “are either a madman or stupid. Probably both if you’re my child.” 

“You’re not a medicine major, Nicky. I’ve gotta work twice as hard as everyone else,” Aaron mumbled, shrugging. “Besides, why do you think I came here? Since when have I ever done any work in the presence of your loud mouth?” 

“Good point. Want in on next round?” the cousin asked, offering him the third controller. Aaron shook his head. He let himself lean back into the couch and actually rest. 

“I just came here to cool off for a few before I head to the library,” he said, pushing the controller away with his foot. His Addias joggers and his high top Chuck Taylors didn’t really go together but he wasn’t known to be the most fashionable. If it was comfortable and he could hide snacks in the pockets, he was sold. 

“Suit yourself,” Nicky replied, turning back around. “Another round, Kev?” Kevin lifted his hand and checked the time on his watch. 

“I placed some books on hold at the library earlier and they should be ready. I should go pick them up before I get carried away,” Kevin said, stretching his long limbs. His Foxes shirt lifted a little with the action; the small glimpse of bare skin caught Aaron’s eye. He couldn’t help but stare, not noticing that the man had said something to him. 

“Earth to Aaron,” Nicky said, waving his hand in front of his face. “C’mon, I know Kevin’s insufferable sometimes but you gotta respect your elders.” 

“Fuck you,” Aaron said before turning to Kevin. “What did you say?”

“I said we should go to the library together.” Kevin stood, walking over to his desk to grab his bookbag and dorm keys. “I know you’re practically flunking American history and we can’t have you being benched because you’re an idiot.” 

“Okay, fuck you too,” Aaron said. His words had no weight because he stood with his bag. “Hurry up before I change my mind.” The two walked towards the door, saying a quick farewell to Nicky on their way out. Aaron was sure Nicky would be grateful to have a quiet dorm for a while, so he could call Erik. “I need to get my history stuff from my room if we’re doing this.” Kevin nodded and followed the shorter man to the other end of the hall. Aaron unlocked the door, knocking once in case Matt and Dan were practicing for their honeymoon. Stepping inside, he found that it was empty and dark. Matt had left the windows open, yet again, sending a shiver down Aaron’s spine. 

“Its cold in here,” Kevin said, blank faced. 

“Yeah, no shit dumbass.” Aaron walked over to his desk, flipping on a light along the way. The living area was decorated with a couch and television-both of which were Matt’s. Aaron didn’t care much to decorate. The only thing he needed and had was a picture of him, Nicky, and Andrew pinned on his desk. It was from his and Andrew’s high school graduation and he swore he could almost see a glimpse of genuine happiness in Andrew’s eyes. 

“Can I ask a question?” Kevin said, poking around the room. 

“You’re gonna ask anyways so get on with it.” 

“Am I really that insufferable?” Something in Kevin’s voice made Aaron turn. He frowned once he saw Kevin’s usually cool demeanor turn unexpectedly serious. Kevin didn’t care what anyone thought about him. He only cared about exy. Why was this even a conversation the two were having?

“I mean,” Aaron started, not really sure how to approach this. “you’re annoying but I wouldn’t call you insufferable. What’s with you, man?” 

Kevin stood silent for a moment. “Sometimes I hear Nicky telling Erik how mean I am.” Another moment of silence passed. “I don’t want to be like him, Aaron.” 

Something inside Aaron’s stomach churned. Kevin didn’t have to say a name for him to know he was talking about his former teammate, Riko Moriyama. It had never occured to Aaron that Kevin had feelings about things over that exy. That was all he talked about and never once brought up emotions. 

“You aren’t like him,” Aaron said. His voice was unexpectedly soft. “You’re never going to be like him.” Aaron dropped his bag onto his desk. “Sit down. We’ll get your stupid books later. You want some hot chocolate? That always cheers Andrew up.” Kevin sat himself down on the couch while Aaron crossed the room to make two cups of hot chocolate. 

“Do you still think about your mom?” Kevin asked, his voice just as quiet as Aaron’s. “I still think about Riko all the time. I see him when I close my eyes. I can’t sleep hardly because hes...he’s always there. He’s there after eight hours waking me up to go to practice. He’s there counting my calories and picking my food. How do I live when he’s still with me?”

“I think about my mom a lot,” Aaron said, bringing over the hot cup. He handed it to Kevin before sitting down himself. “Not as much as I used to but yeah, I do.” Aaron wasn’t one to talk about this stuff. He liked burying it deep inside him and letting it spill out once a week during his session with Betsy. “Talking about it helped. As much as I absolutely hate Neil with my whole being, he was right. Pushing me towards Betsy was the only right thing he’s ever done. You should try it sometime.”

“I don’t talk to her,” Kevin admitted. “I don’t want her to think I’m crazy or something.”

“She talks to Andrew every week. I think you’ll be on the mild end of her patient spectrum.” Kevin let out a breathy laugh that sent Aaron’s stomach into a somersault. 

“I guess you’re right,” Kevin said, looking over at the other. They both sat on either end of the couch, leaning back against the armrests to face each other. “Sorry...For dropping this all on you. You’re really the only one who might get it.” 

Aaron waved a hand. “Yeah yeah, its whatever dude. Just drink your hot chocolate before I stop being nice and kick you out.” They both shared a laugh before going back to sitting in silence. Eventually, Aaron turned on a movie and they both just sat. They drank their drinks, keeping their eyes on the screen in front of them. Somehow, Aaron’s legs ended up up on the couch, his feet resting comfortably against Kevin’s thighs. Somehow, Kevin’s hand found itself rested on Aaron’s calf. Somehow, Kevin and Aaron ended up laying, side by side, buried underneath Aaron’s comforter. They slowly drifted to sleep, Kevin’s head on Aaron’s chest. Whatever they were watching was long forgotten in favor of each other’s presence. They weren’t worried about Matt walking in; they were far too sleep deprived to give any thought to it. 

#kevaaron #all for the game #aftg #the foxhole court #kevin day #aaron minyard #finally some good fucking food

[nalgenewhore]

Slipping Through My Fingers - Nine

masterlist - ao3 - last chapter - next chapter 

warnings: none 

an: ...enjoy darlings 

“Dad. Dad. Dad. Dad. Dad. Dad. Dad—”

“Ko, Hellas, kid, what,” Lorcan groaned, rubbing his eyes as he rolled over onto his back. Kohana had snuck into his bed late last night and curled up on his chest to sleep. Lorcan hadn’t said a word, but he’d stayed awake for hours after, feeling his son’s tears drip onto his skin and the way Ko’s little frame shook. Of course, in the morning, Kohana was stretched out over the mattress, forcing his father to the edge of the bed with his vicious, subconscious kicks and pushes. 

“Can I have breakfast now?”

Lorcan sighed through his nose and looked at his clock, “Man, it’s six am, go back to sleep.” Kohana pouted and crossed his arms. He made his eyes big and wide, dipping his chin. “It’s not even light outside, prince.”

“Pretty please?” 

Lorcan narrowed his eyes at his son and Kohana pouted harder, faking a sniffle. “Dude. That’s not even fair.” 

“But I’m hungry, até,” he whined. “I want breakfast!” He continued to pout and hold Lorcan’s eyes until he gave in and got up from bed. 

“Alright, let’s go then,” Lorcan conceded, rubbing his eyes again as he picked Kohana up and put him on his feet, herding his child downstairs. “Whaddya want, K-Man?” 

They arrived at the top of the stairs and Kohana hopped down, landing on each step with two feet. “Fuckin’ cereal.” 

Lorcan rose a brow, looking down at Kohana, “A bad word, really?” 

“Yeah,” Kohana said, hopping off the last step, “I think sometimes you need bad words, Dad.” He paused and titled his head to the side. “Right?” 

“That’s right.” 

Pleased, the five-year old ran off to the kitchen, climbing up on one of the barstools. He waited patiently as Lorcan got out two bowls and filled them with cornflakes and milk. “Dad?”

“Yeah?” 

“Can we watch a movie?” 

“Yeah, what do you wanna watch?” 

“Mmm. Dunno.” 

“Why don’t you think on that while you eat?”

Kohana nodded and started eating while Lorcan made his coffee. He loved the kid, but he could do without the before sunrise wake ups, especially if he had to see Elide later that day. Oh, fuck it all to hell. He’d forgotten all about that. 

“Dad, I decided. Cars.” 

“Solid choice, kid.” 

+*+*+*+*+*+*

Her heart was so heavy. Elide almost couldn’t bear to open her eyes in the morning, but she had to. She couldn’t just wallow in her self-loathing and self-pity for the entire day, so she dragged herself out of bed and shoved on her retro, cat-eye glasses, not having enough energy to put on her contacts. 

Shuffling to her closet, Elide pondered what was an appropriate outfit for going to the mechanic to see someone she’d hooked up with twice and semi-broken up with once. Maybe twice, she hadn’t decided what last night was yet. 

Leggings and a hoodie from her alma mater would have to do, she decided. 

As she waited for her coffee to be ready, Elide accepted Nehemia’s call. “Hey, Mi.” 

“El, honey, how are you?” Nehemia’s voice was soft and gentle. After she’d gotten home last night, she had called Nehemia and Aelin and cried like a fool. 

Now, she breathed out shakily, “Oh, you know. Getting ready to go to the mechanic’s. How about you?” 

“I’m so sorry, hon. Are you sure about the date tonight?” 

Ah, yes. The date. Originally, she hadn’t been interested when Nehemia had asked her a few days ago, but she’d still said yes. Now, she was even less excited, but… “No, don’t cancel. It’ll be nice - I’ll get to take my mind off the Lorcan situation, right?” 

Nehemia agreed, “Right. Well. Ooh, we could go out and get a new dress, you know? I’ll call Aelin and pick you up at the shop.” 

Elide smiled and wedged her phone between her chin and shoulder as she poured her coffee into her ice-filled tumbler, stirring with her straw until it was cold. “Alright. That sounds nice.” 

“Good. I’ll see you later, then. Bye, honey!” 

“Bye, Mi,” Elide said. She sipped her coffee as she navigated to the Uber app on her phone and ordered a car. After confirming the ride, she grabbed her keys and wallet, stuffing them all in her front pocket. 

She shoved her hair up into a messy bun and tied her hoodie strings into a bow before putting on her old slip-on Vans and leaving her apartment. 

+*+*+*+*+*+*

As soon as Lorcan parked the truck outside the shop, Kohana was unbuckling his seatbelt and leaping from the vehicle to sprint inside, the two braids he wore his hair in flying out behind him. He shouted his arrival to the entire shop. 

Lorcan followed at a calmer pace and smiled when he walked in to see Fenrys holding his nephew upside down by the ankle. “Morning, Fen.” 

“Hey, man. Tow truck just dropped off Elide’s VW,” Fenrys said, his voice piqued in curiosity. 

Offering nothing more than a hum in response, Lorcan headed off to his bay, smirking to himself when he heard Fenrys mutter a curse and quickly make his way over as Lorcan hung up his jacket and unlocked his tool chest. 

“Can I help you with something?” he asked Fenrys mildly. Fenrys huffed and switched his hold on Kohana, swiftly depositing the kid on the ground. 

“Man-Man, why don’t you go find Grampy? I think he could use some help.” 

Kohana nodded and was off before Lorcan could protest, looking to use his son as a shield of sorts against Fenrys’ next barrage of needling questions. Fenrys crossed his arms. “Why is Elide’s car here?” 

“Because her coolant reservoir is in need of replacement.” 

“And?” 

“An oil change, probably. Basic maintenance - you know how old cars are.” 

Fenrys scoffed and rolled his eyes. “Lorcan.” 

“Fenrys.” He was leveled with a cutting look and relented. “Hellas below, man, we were driving home yesterday and saw her and her car broken down on the side of the road. Gave her a ride home. Nothing happened.” 

Narrowing his eyes, Fenrys stared at him until he sighed through his nose. “I mean, a’ight, I guess. Whatever you say, L.” He made to go but then, “Hey. Are you still ok with that date tonight?” 

Shit. He’d forgotten all about that. “Um, I kinda forgot? I don’t have anyone to watch the kid, but if I did, then yeah.” Lorcan didn’t know what had possibly possessed him to say yes, but the presence at his shoulder urged him to go through with it. “I mean… as long as they aren’t, like, racist, homophobic or otherwise bigotted, I think we’ll be fine.” 

Relief flooded Fenrys’ face, “Ok, that’s good. Me and Mi will watch Man-Man tonight.” 

“Thanks. ‘K I need to get to…” he gestured to the car and Fenrys nodded, dapping him up before he left. 

Lorcan sighed deeply and sat on his wheeled stool, pushing himself over to the popped hood and looking into the car. “Alright, Bets, let’s see what we can do.” 

+*+*+*+*+*+*

Elide thanked and tipped her driver, her iced coffee nearly gone as she climbed out of the car and stood in front of Scéalaí Auto Repairs, frowning up at the sign. 

An older man, with tanned skin and grey hair walked out, a familiar child on his hip. “Hello. Can I help you?” 

Kohana yelled her name, “Elide, hi-hi! Grampy, that’s Elide.”  

“Hey, Kohana,” Elide replied, smiling fondly before addressing the older man. “Hi, I’m looking for Lorcan?” 

“Oh, yeah, he’s in the back. Come on, I’ll show you,” the man said, beckoning her to follow. “I’m Malakai, by the way. It’s nice to meet you, Elide. Kohana here talks a lot about you. “

She smiled and toyed with the string of her hoodie, “Well, Kohana just might be my favourite student. Him and Esther, of course.” 

The child lit up at the mention of his friend and smiled wildly as Malakai showed her to the back bay. “Son,” Malakai said, rapping on the bay’s door. “Elide’s here.” 

Anxiety swirled in her gut and Elide drank from her coffee just to have something to do. She heard the music - N.W.A’s Fuck Tha Police - turn down low and the metallic clink of tools being put down before heavy steps approached the door and Lorcan walked out. 

She had to physically stop her jaw from dropping open as he appeared, wearing a cutoff tee and a pair of dark washed jeans, slung low across his hips. His hair was half-up, half-down, two braids leading to a bun at the crown of his head. ”Hey, El. Cute glasses.” 

The nickname just sort of seemed to roll off his tongue and her heart did a happy little flip before she quashed the feeling and hid it with an eye roll of annoyance at his comment. “Hey. How is she?” 

Lorcan ducked his head and chuckled, “Betsy’s good. Just a little finicky but she likes me.” He smirked when she rolled her eyes once more. “Come on back, we can talk.” She froze and tried to school her expression. Evidently, it didn’t work because Lorcan held up a hand, the universal sign for chill, “About your car.” 

“Oh,” she felt her cheeks flush and drank the last of her coffee, hoping it would cool her down. “Yeah. For sure.” 

Malakai and Kohana, who had been watching the entire exchange, shared a weird look and promptly excused themselves. Elide followed Lorcan into the bay and smiled at her car, patting the headlight. “Hey, Bets.” 

A soft chuckle escaped Lorcan’s full lips and he sat down on a stool while motioning for her to take a seat at the desk. Elide stepped over to it and hovered, carefully moving things to the side so she could sit on it, her feet dangling in the air. “So. Let’s talk.” 

+*+*+*+*+*+*

“Mi-Mi!” 

“Ko, baby,” Nehemia said, crouching and hugging Kohana. “Oh, child, I missed you.” She stood up and picked him up, booping his nose which made him giggle. “Did you see your mama yesterday?” 

“Yeah, saw mama. We had pancakes, but Dad had waffles. Auntie D had pancakes too,” he told her, lying his head on her shoulder. “You know what happened, we driving home and sawed Elide, ‘cause her car broked, you know.” 

Nehemia nodded and hummed in response, rubbing his back soothingly. “Did that daddy of yours tell you you’re coming over to me and Fenny’s home tonight?” 

Shooting upright, Kohana gawked, “Really?” He smiled so widely when Nehemia nodded in confirmation. “Do I get to sleep over?” 

“Mm-hmm,” she said, kissing the top of his head. “You know what I was thinking?” 

“What?” 

“I was thinking… we could watch Atlantis and make you some grilled cheese and ice cream. What do you think?” Kohana straightened and pressed his nose against hers, looking fiercely into her eyes. She held his stare until he nodded and smiled again, his round cheeks dimpling. “Now, let’s go find that silly uncle of yours, huh?” 

Kohana giggled and carefully touched the shimmery, golden powder on her regal cheekbone, his eyes wide in near reverence. “So shiny, Mi-Mi. Can I have some?” 

“Of course you can, malaika,” she told him, putting him down when they reached the back office. “Fenrys?” Her husband snapped his head up from where he was hunched over something and grinned. 

“Man-Man, you ready for the best night of your life?” 

Kohana’s eyebrows raised and he asked, “The best night?” He looked to Nehemia for confirmation, repeating the question. 

“Swear on my mama. Best night ever, with your favourite auntie.” Kohana made a happy sound and wiggled to be put down. Nehemia obliged him and told him to be careful around the shop. He just nodded absentmindedly and raced off. She watched him fondly, smiling as she felt Fenrys wrap his arms around her waist. 

Nehemia twisted around to face him, “Hi, baby.” 

“Hi,” he said, toying with the hem of her crop top. “Not that I’m complaining, but why’re you here?” 

“I’m taking El out shopping after she’s done with Lor,” she smiled, smiling at him and rocking onto her tiptoes to kiss her husband. Fenrys hummed and kissed her back, pulling her tightly against him. “Speaking of, let’s go check on them.” 

Fenrys groaned when she pulled away and grabbed his hand, tugging him behind her as she walked across the shop floor to Lorcan’s bay. Without knocking, Nehemia breezed in, “Hello, hello.” 

They were obviously interrupting something. Elide had her hand on Lorcan’s cheek and her thumb dragged gently, almost reverently, over a smudge of grease on his sharp sharp cheekbone. They didn’t even realize they weren’t alone as Lorcan’s mouth parted and Elide ran her fingertips down to his plush lips, their eyes locked on one another as her teeth sunk into her bottom lip and Lorcan sucked in a breath. 

Fenrys coughed and the moment was shattered as they practically leapt apart, blushing furiously as they parted.

“Hey, Mia,” Lorcan said, standing to cross over to her and give her a hug. “Have you seen my offspring around?” 

“Yeah, I think he went to annoy Luca. The boy’s working on a wicked hangover right now.” 

They all laughed at that and Elide hopped off her perch on the desk, grabbing her empty cup. “Ae texted me, she said she’s on her way.” 

“Oh, where y’all going?” Fenrys asked mildly. Nehemia shot him a weird look – he knew exactly where they were going. He subtly shook his head as he leaned against the doorframe. 

Elide frowned and did not look at Lorcan as she replied, as evenly as possible, “Shopping.” 

“Ooooo,” Fenrys said, looking way too entertained. He nudged Nehemia and she immediately started in on his shenanigans. “Whatcha shopping for?” 

“I don’t know,” she muttered, glaring daggers at Nehemia. 

“That’s not true – girl’s got a hot date tonight!” 

Fenrys gasped dramatically, “A date?” 

Elide shot the man a glare that promised a slow, slow death, unaware of Lorcan frowning for a split second and the muscle in his jaw ticking. “Yes. A date.” 

The smiling man contemplated something and then gasped again, “Oh my gods! You know who also has a date tonight?” No one answered, not that it really mattered. “That’s right – Lorcan!” 

Lorcan looked like he was praying that his Creator take him to the next life right that moment as his cheeks flushed and he intensely avoided looking anywhere near the petite, dark haired woman next to him. 

Nehemia and Fenrys were practically feeding off the thick cloud of uncomfortability hanging around the room. Elide chewed on her straw. Lorcan fiddled with the screw on his adjustable wrench. They did not look at each other. 

Elide shot Nehemia a look that screamed Help me and Nehemia nodded, smiling as she hooked her arm through Elide’s, “Welp, we should get going. See you later, boys.” 

+*+*+*+*+*+*

“But, Dad, why can’t you stay too?” 

Lorcan looked down at his son, who looked up at him with a sad light in his eyes. “I have plans, kiddo.” 

“Can I come?” 

“No dice, K-Man. Remember, you’re gonna have so much fun with your auntie and uncle,” he said, knocking on the door of Nehemia and Fenrys’ townhouse. They waited a few seconds and then heard someone running to the door. 

Nehemia was smiling as she opened the door, “Guys! Hi, come in.” 

Kohana smiled and padded in, hugging his rainbow mini-Kanken packed with all his overnight stuff to his front. “Mholo, Mi-Mi.” 

“Oh, that is very good, Ko,” Nehemia said, smiling down at the little one as he put down his bag and sat down to take off his shoes. It was a little bit of a competition between all of the adults – whose language Kohana would speak the best. So far, it had been Eyllwe in the lead. That probably had something to do with Kohana’s favouritism concerning Nehemia. “What’s happening?” 

“Not much, you know. Dad has plans. I’m not allowed to go.” 

“Well, that’s fine – you’ll have more fun with me and your Fenny, anyways, right?” 

Lorcan huffed a laugh as Kohana nodded, “That’s right!” As soon as he had taken off his shoes, Kohana jumped up and started pushing Lorcan’s legs. “Bye-bye, now. Time to go!” 

Nehemia and Lorcan both laughed and the former deterred Kohana from further booting his father out of the house. “Why don’t you go see where your Fenny is?” He nodded and hurried off, yelling for Fenrys. Nehemia turned to Lorcan and ran a cursory look over him. “Looking sharp, Salvaterre.” 

“Thanks, Mi,” he said, rolling his eyes and standing still as she tutted over the state of the collar of his black dress shirt. She pursed her lips and dusted off his shoulders. “Mia, I gotta go, I’m gonna be late.” He glanced over her head and saw Fenrys coming down the hall, who echoed his statement. 

“Yeah, sweetheart, he looks fine,” Fenrys said, slipping his arm around Nehemia’s waist and kissing her temple.

Sighing, she nodded, “Yeah. Have fun, ok? I’ll call you if something goes wrong.” 

“Alright,” he said, not understanding why he felt his heartbeat quicken in anxiety. In a few short moments, he was leaving and making his way back to his truck. 

His heart still raced and Lorcan couldn’t figure out why. The only time he had felt like that was… around Elide. That morning, when Malakai said Elide was here, his heart had raced and he’d nearly dropped what he’d been holding. 

That was why he was even going on this stupid thing. To move on, from something that didn’t feel like he should’ve had to move on from. Him and Elide hadn’t even been together. At all. Shaking his head to dispel his spiralling thoughts, Lorcan turned on the ignition and drove off, making his way to The Willows. 

He parked a few blocks away and decided to walk to the restaurant. During his walk, his phone pinged and he pulled it out, smiling down at the image of Kohana that Fenrys had texted him. His son was smiling widely as he looked up at something, his eyes bright. His heart tightened at the pure and true joy on Ko’s face.

There was a soft smile that stayed on his lips as he opened the tinted glass door of the restaurant and walked inside, carefully making his way around the people waiting to get to the hostess’ stand.

The blonde woman waiting smiled semi-gently. It was very obviously her retail smile, the one she pasted on for customers. “Hi, there. Do you have a reservation with us?” 

“Yeah, Marama for 8:30?” 

She nodded, looking harried as she scanned over a list and nodded, “Alright, come this way.” The woman told him about the set menu and showed him to an intimate table out in the greenhouse portion of the restaurant. He had to admit – it was beautiful. Glancing upwards, he saw the star-spotted sky behind the glass roof. 

Greenery surrounded them, all sorts of creeping vines and lush greenlife. Lorcan thanked the woman and unbuttoned his jacket as he sat. 

It was all going to be fine. It was just dinner. Easy, simple. Nothing to worry about. 

He told himself that over and over for the next five minutes, his knee bouncing up and down uncontrollably. When he realized, he suppressed the urge to fidget, but it just came out as him drumming the beat of some punk song he’d used to play often at that old grungy club. 

Then, he heard a familiar voice – smoky and delicate and sultry all at once. He almost didn’t believe it and looked over. Lorcan’s eyes landed on a gorgeous person, their truly sinful curves wrapped in a black dress that hit mid-thigh, showcasing the black ink on their fair skin. His gaze travelled up their body, catching on the tattoos on their… collarbones. Laurel wreaths.

Oh, he was going to fucking murder the Marama-Ytgers.

+*+*+*+*+*+*

an: i would say im sorry for the cliffhanger...but im really not 🥰

also! i use Xhosa for Eyllwe! Translations: 

Malaika: Angel

Mholo: Hello 

@mythicaitt​​ @tinywolfofeyllwe​​ @schmlip-scribble​​ @the-regal-warrior​​ @empire-of-wildfire​​ @rhysands-highlady​​ @shyvioletcat​​ @alifletcher2012​​ @ttakeitbacknoww​​ @tswaney17​​ @ourbooksuniverse​​ @flora-and-fae​​ @thesirenwashere​​ @queenofxhearts​ @maastrash​ @mynewdreamwasyou​ @cursebreaker29​ @superspiritfestival​ @empress-ofbloodshed​ @queen-of-glass​ @sleeping-and-books​ @beccasophia95​ @exersize-me-i-dare-u​ @thewayshedreamed​ @hizqueen4life​ @ifinallygavein​ @bat-wing-rhys​ @awkward-avocado-s​ @b00kworm​ @mu-si-ca-l​ @lovemollywho​ @tacmc​ @soitsgorgeous​ @staarligght​

#slipping through my fingers #stmf chapter nine #elorcan #elide x lorcan #elide lochan #lorcan salvaterre #kohana #isa writes #nalgenewhore #a hee hee! things JUST. GOT. INCHERESTING.

[jemej3m]

trial (objection p.2)

i love htgawm connor is such a problem child

*

“So your father was already incapacitated when you murdered him,” Andrew deduced, leaning back in his chair. He spun the land-line’s coiled cord around his finger, looking over the ceiling sconces of his office. The place was definitely built at least half a century ago, and the remnants of its previous occupations were everywhere, from the covered-up fireman pole holes to the sound-proofed insulation.

“When I killed him out of self-defence, yes,” Neil returned. His portion of the conversation would always be under surveillance. 

“Way to make my job harder, Wesninski.” 

“What good would I be, otherwise?” he retorted. “Also, please don’t call me that. I’m figuring out a new last name. How does Neil Smith sound?” 

“Dreadfully boring,” Andrew said. “Don’t say that word. I don’t like it.” 

“Which one, exactly?” 

Andrew grit his teeth. “Please.” It still sent shudders down his spine. “There’s no time for pleasantries.” 

“Fine,” the man said. “Is that all you wanted to waste my time on? The position my father was found in, when I - when he died?” 

“Considering that there are extremely graphic photos of his predicament for the jury to gawk at, yes. How is it self-defence if there’s no threat?” 

“He wasn’t cuffed there: I was. The DNA evidence was tampered with to remove traces of the skin tissue that the cuffs had scraped away. Have you even looked at those photos? His wrists are clearly free. I thought you were talking about the eyes.” 

“What about them?” Andrew hedged. 

“They’re gouged out,” Neil muttered. “I hate that our eyes are - were - the same.” 

“You did that whilst the two of you were fighting,” Andrew suggested. “Unless its clear you did it with a knife?” 

“All I had was his cleaver,” Neil said. “I used the handle. That’d look like fingers, right?”

“Right,” Andrew agreed, just as Wymack appeared at his doorway. 

“Could you keep the gruesome mutilation discussions off the worklines?” the old man demanded. “Matt just threw up into Dan’s paper-shredder.” 

“I’ll have to call you back,” Andrew said, vastly unimpressed. 

“I was going to say,” Neil said, sounding vaguely amused. “You have quite a stomach. Till next time, Andrew.”

“Bye, Neil.” 

Wymack had his arms crossed when Andrew threw the phone back onto the receiver, his glower shrouded and unknowable. 

Andrew gave it right back to him, refusing to stand as he mirrored Wymack’s stance. “What?” 

“First you viciously reject the case,” he said. “Then you drive to see him. Now you’re calling him every day?” 

“He’s in prison,” Andrew said. “I can’t just invite him over to interview him and gather evidence.”

“There is no valid reason for you to buddy up to Wesninski like this,” Wymack objected. “You barely speak to your clients unless they’re escapin’ juvie.” 

“You’re asking no questions, so I’ll give no answers,” Andrew responded cheerfully. “Have a nice day, boss.”

Wymack pointed at him. “No murder talk on the worklines. Three strikes and you’re out, Andrew.”

Andrew swivelled back around in his chair, knowing true and well Wymack had warned him about upwards of 72 different infringements of people’s delicate psyche. He had a job to do: if someone got in his way, he wasn’t going to be nice about it. 

Not for the first time, he wondered if Neil had a contraband mobile phone. It’d make his life a hell of a lot easier. For about twenty minutes he scrolled aimlessly through emails from desperate idiots convicted of white-collar crime, simultaneously considering how he might get a mobile phone to Neil next time he visited. He could go on the weekend, after Nicky’s godforsaken family night. 

Oh, shit, Andrew thought, when he noticed he’d lost an hour of his day making plans to see Neil again. 

Maybe Wymack was on to something. 

*

“You do seem awfully invested,” Betsy suggested, leaning on the porch railing as Andrew smoked through a second cigarette. She’d come along to Nicky’s Friday night fiasco at his request, seeing as Aaron had Katelyn and Nicky had Erik. It seemed a little ridiculous to being his old therapist, who was much more of a mother than a therapist, but Andrew’d wanted to talk to her anyway and their schedules clashed too much to meet up for lunch. 

“His case is simple,” Andrew objected, glaring at an owl that’d settled on the gangly tree in Nicky’s front yard. “He’s got physical evidence of his father’s cruelty, even though it’s been a decade. I’ve uncovered the DNA evidence tampering. Neil clearly acted out of self-defence. It’s open and shut, but no one’s going to want Wesninski’s child out on the streets.” 

“Jury?” Betsy inquired. 

“Jury,” Andrew confirmed sullenly. He fucking hated jury catering. When a case was on thin ice, it was up to selecting the perfectly biased (or prejudiced) people that’d think with their heart, not their head. Andrew was an excellent judge of character, but emotional evaluations were taxing and laborious. 

“You’ll do great,” Betsy promised, smiling her all-knowing smile. “You always do.” 

Andrew hummed gently, taking one final drag of his cigarette. Before he could chuck the butt into Nicky’s shrubbery, Betsy pinched it between her fingers and dropped it onto an ashtray atop a rickety windowsill. 

“It’s an interesting story,” Betsy continued. “There’s every reason to be intrigued by it.” 

Andrew just grunted. 

“Though,” she remarked. “I figured that case between the young girls was even more perplexing and intricate, but you seem rather enamoured.” 

“Shut up,” he mumbled. 

“I’m sure I don’t have to remind you about professionalism,” she said airily. 

“No,” he agreed. “You don’t.”

But - damn it all to hell - Neil was interesting. He was only a year younger than Andrew was, intelligent without seeming overbearing or arrogant, confident but reserved, a man of constraint taught by hardship but also a man of growth and reflection. Andrew was rambling and he knew it. Neil Wesninski was attractive, intriguing and completely out of Andrew’s reach. Even if he were just your average guy walking down the street, he wouldn’t look at Andrew twice. 

Andrew was fine with that. He didn’t need someone chasing after him, just like he didn’t need emotional intimacy or empathy or gentleness. It was like those nerve-endings had been scoured till they were numb and useless. The pathways were still there, but they echoed a nothingness that he’d never really figured out. 

Whatever. Whatever. Neil was just a challenging and well-paying case. That’s all he’d ever be. 

He was getting existential and over-contemplative. Betsy knew this and smiled, letting him take her by the elbow inside for a cup of cocoa. It was late when the other four finished their game of Monopoly and Nicky finally permitted everyone to leave. Betsy let Andrew walk her to her car again, warmth crinkling her eyes. 

“If you’re seeing your Neil tomorrow,” she said, with a wink. “Tell me all the juicy details.” 

“You’re a leech,” Andrew declared, pushing her car-door shut. She waved out the scrolled-down window as she careened off, leaving Andrew to his quiet but volatile thoughts. 

Your Neil, she’d said.

Now wasn’t that a confronting idea. 

*

“Suppose you are a danger to society,” Andrew drawled. They were sat opposite one another at another metal table, handcuffs dangling off one of Neil’s wrists, his blunt key being fiddled with in the other hand. “Suppose you are just as marvellously unhinged as dear old Dad. What then?” 

“Why bother entertaining the possibilities?” Neil cocked an eyebrow. “We both know I’m fine.” 

“You are the furthest thing from ‘fine’,” Andrew retorted. 

“You’re no paragon of mental health yourself,” Neil laughed, and Andrew wondered how the fuck he’d got himself here. 

Two months ago he’d met Neil for the first time. In two weeks his trial would begin, in his lovely hometown of Baltimore, Maryland. It’d be less of a drive for Andrew, so he didn’t mind. 

In two months, Andrew had found himself hanging onto every conversation. At first he clung on with apprehension. A wariness born out of unfamiliarity: he’d never been in the realm of wanting to associate with someone. Wanting someone’s company, their thoughts and opinions, their attention. It was ridiculous. Neil was a convicted murderer in a max-security prison. 

Then again, Andrew was the one who knew that Neil was undeserving of that title best. At most it was manslaughter. In reality it was a blessing. Ridding the world of the Butcher, a renowned and horrifically twisted serial killer, was a service to the public rather than a hindrance. 

And so Andrew had found himself in a strange position, between professionalism and exceptionalism. He almost couldn’t help it. He wanted to know what happened behind those ocean blues. 

“Someone’s been bored again,” Andrew accused, lighting a cigarette. That was illegal but he didn’t give a fuck. Neil gazed at where it rested between his lips, conflicted. 

He shrugged, caught out. “You’re an interesting person. Would it scare you to know we’re similar in more ways than one?” 

Andrew let a small smirk twitch around his smoke. “You should be more scared than I should be.” 

“Maybe I’ll go to law school when I’m out,” Neil leered, grinning. “Beat you at your own game.” 

“You can try,” Andrew said. “You’ll lose.” 

Neil hummed. His shackles jingled as he reached over the table for Andrew’s cigarette, his fingertips brushing over Andrew’s lips as he snatched it away. For a moment he watched the cherry’s glow, before letting it rest at the corner of his mouth. 

Unimpressed, and also oddly flushed, Andrew glared. 

“That sounds like a challenge,” Neil said, returning to the conversation like he hadn’t just stolen the cigarette out of Andrew’s mouth. Like Andrew hadn’t just let him. “If you get me out of this hell hole, I’ll prove you wrong.” 

“And if you don’t?”

Neil grinned. “Then you lose anyway. Don’t worry: I won’t cry.” 

“Good,” Andrew muttered, leaning back in his chair with his arms folded over his chest. 

Neil filled the rest of their valuable time with inane chatter about the more twisted happenings within a male max prison: Andrew had heard of similar stories and worse, but seeing as Neil instigated most of the fights, he still found it rather entertaining to be told. 

Before he knew it, their time was up. He stood, plucking the butt out from between Neil’s lips. 

“Till next time,” Neil said, a forlorn look at the cigarette between Andrew’s fingers. 

“I’ll text you about trial prep,” Andrew said, pointing at him. “Read it.” 

Neil sighed. “Not like it’ll help me in any way. But fine. I’ll waste my limited credit and battery on the shitty flipper for court etiquet.”

“You’d better, you ungrateful shit. I got you that phone.” 

Neil just winked and blew him a kiss. At Andrew’s scowl, he laughed. 

The laugh haunted - no, teased - Andrew all the way out of the stupid prison complex, across the car park, even as he blasted music on the way home.  

*

Andrew took one look at the woman who squirmed in her chair, leaning anxiously away from the middle-aged man next to her. It was instinctive and ingrained in her behaviours. An abusive father, then. Or, perhaps an abusive husband, if the twisting of her wedding ring was anything to go by. 

“Accept,” Andrew declared. 

“Do you have any qualms about gang violence?” the prosecution asked a balding man, lounging in his chair. 

“It’s a toxic function of our society,” he answered. 

The lawyer looked to the judge and smiled. “Accept, your honour.”

Fucking hell, Andrew thought. He glanced back over to the table, where Neil was cuffed to the iron loop. He didn’t smile, but simply tipped up his chin. An acknowledgement. Confidence in, well. Andrew. 

Something in Andrew’s stomach settled. He turned back to the man that the prosecution had accepted. “So you have heard of the Wesninski case?”

“It was ten years ago,” he objected. 

“What did you think of it?” 

“It was well resolved,” he said. 

“So you still garner some form of opinion against Wesninski?” Andrew eyed the Christian Society badge pinned to the strap of his messenger bag. “Surely your god would have some qualms with your inability to forgive,” 

“Mr Minyard,” the judge insisted. “That’s enough.”

It didn’t matter. The man was already spitting mad, going bright-red in the face. He pointed at Neil and hissed “He’s a monster, just like his father. God should’ve had him killed!” 

“Denied,” Andrew drawled. The man shuffled out of the jury box, frothing mad. 

By the end of the selection process, Andrew was sure that at least half of those sitting in the box would think emotionally rather than pragmatically. He settled back at his desk, ignoring the prosecution lawyer’s filthy glares, and tapped his fingers on Neil’s file. 

“I didn’t miss this,” Neil muttered, picking at the skin of his cuticles. 

From Andrew’s pocket he drew out Neil’s favourite key, of which he’d swiped after they’d searched Neil from head to toe. The man looked at him with undeserved awe, taking the blunt key and spinning it between his fingers. 

“Thank you,” he said. 

“Shut up,” Andrew retorted. 

The court was called to stand: Neil’s hearing had begun. 

*

FUCKs sake i was gonna try do this in three parts but the trial will be a whole part and the post trial too..... dammit lol

next we find out: what does the prosecution have up their sleeve? how will neil’s testimony go? what chaos will andrew cause in the courtroom? whose key does neil continually trace?? will neil be inevitably driven to distraction by andrew’s dope-ass suit?

#andreil #lawyer!andrew #felon!neil #law au #law firm!foxes #andrew minyard #neil josten #david wymack #betsy dobson #all for the game #aftg #hope u like this disaster of a fic lol #can someone please tell me what to name this au #i cant call it the htgawm au #(how to get away with murder) #unless? #idek #jem writes

[rejectofsociety]

Hey, snow, tell us about your plants? (Only if you want to ofc)

AAAAA! YES! My plants I love them! 

So, I’ve really gotta tell you about my favorite. I named it Robert (or Bob for short) and it’s named after Robert Plant (lol), Bob Ross, and Bob Marley. Yeah. All three at once. But he’s a ponytail palm but like... a miniature one. I’ve had him for six (?) years and he’s my favorite thing ever. 

I also got three succulent plants (Esther, Molly, and Doug) who are in these little skull-shaped pots that I really dig for some reason. They’re newer and kinda little, but I love them.

I have another plant (Viola) and I’m not sure what type of plant she is, but she’s neat. She’s got spotted leaves and every year, she grows little white flowers, basically dies, then regrows. Like... idk like a phoenix or somethin.

THEN I have three (I think they’re called) Spider plants (idk). Their names are Gustav, Todd, and Lenore. They’re getting repotted tomorrow but they’re really neat because instead of having seeds or whatever, they have runners. So the baby plants grow off of the adults (idk how to explain it) but it’s pretty neat. Gustav I got from my fifth grade teacher and Lenore was from my grandpa. Todd is Lenore’s baby.  I know this is taking a while, but I can’t shut up about plants.  anyhoo, next is Peter (yeah, like Peter Parker) who is a mother-in-law's tongue plant (also known as the snake plant or viper's bowstring). It used to be about six inches tall, but I repotted it about a year ago which gave it a lot of room to grow. Now he’s three feet tall. 

Another plant I don’t know the species of (I think it’s a lucky tree or plant or somethin?) but I named it Floof. They’re not fluffy, it just sounded about right. It’s pretty small right now and has a really neat trunk (it looks like braided hair), but I’m repotting this one tomorrow too.

Now, I got some other type of succulent (species???) named Dumbass. Yeah I named it that. Why? Because it shared a pot with two other plants but it got so big that it started taking up too much room and the other two plants died before I could repot them. So yeah, it’s a dumbass. And yeah, I’m pretty bitter about it (even three years later 😒)

NEXT, I got a short lil cactus (who gets the most BEAUTIFUL flowers in summer) and her name is Nancy. She’s been getting kinda tall tho(?) which is odd, because she’s a ball cactus and they don’t really do that. But she’s got a lil arm growing off of her, which is really cute because it looks like she’s waving. She recently got a new pot, which is just a mug from a thrift shop. But the mug has a face on it, which makes Nancy the mug’s hair (like a man bun or somethin). She’s also got a mini umbrella with her. If you couldn’t tell, I LOVE HER.

Second to last! Guess what? Idk what kind of plant she is! But, I call her Betsy. This one is freaking MASSIVE. Like, she was really little, but four(?) years later. SHE BLEW THE FUCK UP. Idk how to describe her, I’ll show a picture tomorrow but she is GLORIOUS.

FINALLY (I know you’re tired of me talking but congrats on getting this far), I got this lil chubby plant (again, who knows what it is) but it’s really short and fuzzy. His name is Ollie and he shares a pot with a scrawny, tall(ish) plant named Frank. They’re bros. But Frank is really fragile, so pretty sure Ollie might kill him. We’ll see how it goes 🤷 

Thank you for asking! I’m sorry this was so long, I just love my plants 😂 

#long post #holy shit I’m so sorry #😂 #asks #plant talk #bunnyranger761