#People really think that a woman mentioning her personal life makes her annoying and immature and ditzy and petty ?????? LIKE WHAT

[zepskies]

@lamentationsofalonelypotato

Ahaha oh GOOD I'm so glad it wasn't an unwelcome tag, thank you so much!! 🤣🤣💗

I don't like to tag people who haven't expressly asked me or haven't added themselves to my tag lists, because I don't want to annoy anyone with an unwanted notification.

I love this line so much. And I LOVE how passive aggressive the reader is. It's so believable and I would 10000000% be so mad if I slaved away cooking a nice meal and then he didn't help me clean up. She's really saying what we're all thinking. But... it is SOOOO Ben lol.

LOL thank you, lovely. 😝😝 Apparently I tend to write passive aggressive readers in general, but with her it was very intentional not to make her the "stereotypical Latina hot-head" that Ben accuses her of lmfao. And right?! I feel like we all would be ready to toss one or two of those plates at his head.

"His old man loafers..." LMAO 🤣

Slippin' and slidin' across the wood floor. 🤣

OHHH NOOO NOT THE DEMEANING/PLACATING FOREHEAD KISS! HE GONNA LEARN TODAY👏🏻!

Oh, 100-fucking-percent.

The other day I heard someone at work say that when she first started dating her boyfriend she told him outright that she didn't need him, but she wanted him and that he should know the difference.

Oh that's real talk. My best friend said the same to her boyfriend when he moved in with her and brought his immature nonsense with him. She made it very clear that she could live her life without him, but she was choosing him. It's basically the same deal here.

Plus I was cackling at the "dependent on my taxes" thing. And then it made me think if Ben has ever done his own taxes and what it would look like lol.

Ahaha thank you, that was a line that snuck in at the last minute, but it made me laugh. 😂 Can you imagine him trying to navigate TurboTax? Like, "well, haven't done my taxes in 40 years, so..."

Oh goodness, I'm a sucker for the little softer moments with Ben. We see so few of them on the show and I think that it makes some people believe that Ben can't be gentle in his own way. But I really do believe that Ben isn't just some macho asshole who can't have emotions or feelings and who can't be gentle with the woman he loves. He has those feelings and he's not just some jerk. He can do those things, it might look a little different and it might take him a little longer to get there, but this is just so good. Especially when he untangles the shirt from her hair!

YES. Absolutely agree with all of this!! I try to create those moments where Ben can show his brand of "softness," those moments he shows that he cares. I think he'd be willing to do all that for the one person who holds him down (and later on, his kids lol). I'm so glad you liked that moment where he untangles her! loll Curly haired girlies get it, but it's also a way to slow things down for a second between them. 💗

And oh my word the bit about the reader giving more to him than anyone ever has, is making me cry. NOT to mention when he says the "he doubted anyone that might come after you." Is just heart-wrenching! Because I know that we've talked in the past about giving Ben a partner that can live longer, but goodness it's still just so heartbreaking to think that Ben is going to live on longer than the reader and have to live with her memory forever.

Aww thank you!! Kind of getting into BMD vibes with that one. And tbh I still don't know how I'm going to "fix" that aspect of things in Unravel Me. 😅 Maybe I'll just keep using the same loophole from Strong as Blood. 🤣🤣 (Fake science in fiction FTW.)

Because the way the reader realizes how much he cares about her comfort, and the suggestion that he hadn't cared about that in the past is just BEAUTIFUL. I think that it has to be true for Ben! Because yeah he's gotten around... and around... like a merry go round on steroids LMAO, but I think that if he's with someone he really cares about and loves, Ben would care how comfortable his partner is. I believe that he would be checking in. I mean the guy probably hates the words "make love" but he does it in his own way.

Ahaha omg thank you!! 😘😘 Yes I totally agree with that -- I feel like once Ben truly falls for someone, he's going to start being more considerate of her and showing that he cares, albeit in very SB fashion. 😂 I mean, he is from the 40s, so maybe he can tolerate the words "make love" in certain moments? I think it would depend on his mood. 😆

Oh this fic was good as always my wonderful friend! I'm so happy you tagged me 🥰! And I can't wait to read more of this couple in your series "Unravel Me!" 💗

I appreciate you so very much, my friend!! Again, I'm glad it was something you actually wanted to be tagged on loll. I hope I get to continue working on that series when I get a couple weeks off in December! 💕💕

Lost in Translation

Pairing: Soldier Boy (Ben) x Female POC!Reader

Summary: Living with this man isn’t easy, and you’ve absolutely had it with him. Supe or not, you’re one step shy of kicking him out. Will he try to make it up to you? 

AN: So after getting requests for a Soldier Boy x POC!Reader, I’ve had a short series in development called Unravel Me. I’m a bit stalled on the outline right now, so I thought this could be a fun way to introduce their relationship and see if you guys think I should continue with the prequel, kind of like how I did with Checkerboard and the Break Me Down-verse.

This story would take place after Unravel Me, after a fair bit of character development lol. It also fulfills a bingo square for @jacklesversebingo!

Prompt: “Whatever you’re going to ask, the answer is No!”

Song Inspo: “Damage” by H.E.R.

Word Count: 3.4K

Tags/Warnings: 18+ only! Smut, bit of dirty talk, fingering, edging, some angst, fluff and feels. The reader is a mixed race POC (Afro Latina), with textured hair. 

The apartment was quiet, but not peaceful.

You were in the kitchen washing the Mt. Everest of dishes piled in the sink, partly because someone hadn’t rinsed off his own plate of carne guisada.

Ben had asked for beef for dinner yesterday, and you’d graciously delivered with your grandmother’s recipe for the stew. It was filled with chunks of tender, fall-off-your-fork beef, garlic, onions, carrots, and more—all marinated to perfection, if you said so yourself. You even added in some little yellow potatoes, both for taste and texture.

Apparently, he couldn’t be bothered to put those meaty man muscles to good use, aside from shoveling three helpings into his mouth.

A bottomless pit and a freakin’ man-child, I swear to God, you inwardly groused as you scrubbed the ceramic a bit too hard with the rough side of the sponge. No matter how many times you asked, nicely, it seemed your boyfriend couldn’t manage to pull his weight around here.

Okay, you knew his job could be demanding, but so was yours.

What the hell is this, Maid in Manhattan? Newsflash: I’ve got shit to do too! 

“And I cooked!” you muttered in indignation. That reminder propelled you to scrub a bit harder. The least he could do was clean the kitchen. Or take out the trash. Or toss the laundry into the washing machine once in a while. Like you really wanted to handle his dirty boxers all the damn time.

Did he have no shame? Couldn’t he do anything for you without you having to ask him three million times?

Es que él es bruto, mija, as your Dominican grandma would say about your grandpa, often while swiping a tired hand over her long braids. Es como un animal con ropa.

Just then, you heard his heavy steps creaking on the wood floors in your bedroom. Today was his day off, so he was probably taking his sweet time rolling his ass out of bed.

Meanwhile, you were hustling to get the place at least decently clean before you got yourself together for work. The thought made you simmer as you continued to place dishes on the counter rack. Each one clacking to rest was satisfying, but it also ticked up your internal dial to a fine boil. 

You heard him bang the bathroom door open and cringed internally, your teeth grinding. You’d reminded him three times already about the neighbors and the noise.

Sabes que, supe or not, I’m about to— 

“Morning, sweetheart.”

Ben’s voice washed over you, deep and still a little rough with sleep as he stepped into the kitchen. His old man loafers slid against the floor with every step when he approached you from behind, and his heavy hands found a familiar resting place on the curve of your waist.

He swiped your slightly wild curls to the side and pressed a tantalizing kiss into your neck. His voice, his touch, the brief scrape of his beard; it all caused a small shiver of delight up your spine.

“Hmm, you smell good. Good enough to eat.” And he teased you with the graze of his teeth, biting gently enough where your neck met your shoulder. You flinched with half a huff, trying not to smile. 

Just like that, it took the edge off your irritation…a little. You opened your mouth to reply, but before you could…

“Hey,” he said, “since you’re already up and about in here, how about some breakf—”

Your spine tightened once again.

“Whatever you’re going to ask, the answer is No!” you snapped. You moved out of his arms to grab a hand towel to dry your hands with. They were all pruny from washing dishes.

“I’m already running late. Why? Because this place is a fucking mess, and the only one who seems to care is me!” you exclaimed. First, you gestured to the dishes now drying on the rack. “Hmm?”

You then opened up the lid to the full-to-bursting trashcan. “What do you call that, huh? You said you’d take this out last night. After I asked you twice. What, was I not speaking English? Did something get lost in translation, or are you already losing your hearing? Just let me know, ‘cause I can sure as hell crank up the volume for you!”

Ben raised a brow. You read his thoughts in his surly frown. You have some fucking audacity, talking to him like that, but it’s still early. He hasn’t even had his coffee, for Christ’s sake.

If he was more awake, no doubt he’d be barking back at you. Instead, he heaved a sigh, drew closer to you and shut the trashcan lid. At least there was one lid he knew how to close.

“All right, it’s just a little mess. No need to get fucking hysterical,” he said, trying to grasp your arm to placate you. You shrugged out of his hold and crossed your arms in anger.

“Ben, it’s not just a little mess. And what is this, 1945? I’m not hysterical!”

His lips twitched at a smirk, making you even angrier. But he’d caught enough smoke from you in the past to know he didn’t want it at 8:00 in the morning. He grasped your arms and rubbed them up and down, trying to sooth you.

“Okay, okay. It’s a little early for all this Latina temper, don’tcha think?” he said, pressing a kiss to your forehead. Your gaze snapped up at him with a glare.

Oooh, this man. He knew how to get you mad fucking tight.

Not in a good way.

Instead of exploding like Mount Fuji, you kept it all under your skin. You turned away from him and aimed to continue getting ready for work, but first, you took out a Greek yogurt from the fridge and wholly ignored him taking up space in the kitchen. You wouldn’t answer him when he called your name. In fact, you were going to give him the most frigid of cold shoulders—so cold he’d get hyperthermia through that invulnerable skin.

He waylaid your plans when he grabbed your hand, swinging you back into his arms. You gasped at the suddenness of it, looking up into his cocky, charming smile. You couldn’t stare too long at his green eyes, or the rest of his handsome, bearded face. Not when he knew exactly how to use it against you.

“Don’t think that’s gonna get you out of this,” you warned him. You set your yogurt on the kitchen counter and pushed at his chest, but it was no more effective than pushing at a mountain and expecting it to move.

His hands spanned your waist, his fingers beginning to press into your soft sides. He bowed his head, brushing his lips against your neck and the shell of your ear when he said, “Out of what, baby doll? Looks to me like we can still have a good morning.”

His voice once against trilled heat and tingles through your body, but you managed to lean back, holding the pads of your fingers to his lips.

“Hey, I’m not playing around here. If we’re gonna do this,” you pointed between him and yourself, “then let me make one thing really clear. I’m not la sirvienta around here, okay? I’m not your fucking maid. I’m your girl. Your partner. And since you live here now, I’m gonna need you to do your part.”

Ben almost rolled his eyes, but you grasped his chin. He frowned at you with furrowed brows. There was a time where he would've been inclined to grab your wrist and try to intimidate you with his temper. You saw it lying in wait behind his pursed lips and irritated stare, but you weren't afraid of him. Not anymore.

“Listen to me. I get that you haven’t lived like us commoners for most of your life, but this stuff is important,” you said. You took a deep breath, and you counted to three. You met him with a calmer gaze. “Ben, I love you.”

You let go of his chin and lowered your hand, letting it splay over his chest. He softened, ever so slightly, even though his frown remained.

“I love you,” you repeated, “but I don’t need a man-child.”

"Excuse me?" he did snap this time, his hold loosening from around your waist. "The fuck did you just say?"

You narrowed your eyes right back at him.

"You heard me," you said. "I want a man. A man who's going to be my rock when I need him. Can you do that for me, like I do for you? Are you gonna be my man, or do I need to claim you as a dependent on my taxes?"

His expression sharpened again at your thinly veiled accusation…but the longer he looked into your eyes, no longer angry, but earnest and imploring, the more he actually listened to what you were saying. His jaw worked for a moment in annoyance. You subtly softened him with your hands soothing up and down his arms, a slow back and forth over solid, warm muscle.

Eventually, he was able to curb his instinct to bark a callous reply. He nodded, expelling a breath through his nose.

“Fine,” he said.

Your brows rose. “Fine?”

“Yeah,” he said flatly.

You knew it was the closest you were going to get to an agreement, as well as an apology. You were still working on that last one, but dating this man was a work in progress, for both of you. With a sigh, you patted his arms that were slowly wrapping back around you.

“Okay, I’m really running late now,” you said.

“You should probably get a move on then,” Ben said.

Still, he didn’t release you. He stared down at you with an amused smile while you struggled against his hold. You uttered a laugh.

“Babe, I need to get to work.” You leaned over and spied the oven clock. “Oh, shit! it’s almost 8:30! If I’m not there by 9:00—”

“You sure you want to go now? Tense, body all tight,” he said, his voice deep with sensuous suggestion.

His lips neared yours, but he didn’t kiss you. Not yet. His lips veered away to brush against your cheek. He inhaled deeply as he moved, taking in the floral scent of your soap, mixed with the army of products you styled your hair with, and the faint imprint of your perfume from the night before. He skimmed down your neck and along the shell of your ear.

“Wouldn’t you rather I fuck all that tension right out of you?” he offered. “Leave you nice and warm and satisfied, have that pretty pussy coming hard on my cock.”

You let out a shaky breath, closing your eyes as his filthy mouth and the timbre of his voice struck a chord through your body, tinging warm arousal between your legs. Your fingers tightened on his strong arms, digging into the fabric of his loose robe. Ben took that as a wordless confirmation. He bent at the knees and grabbed you up by your plush thighs. You wrapped your arms around his neck on instinct, with a small gasp.

But you recovered quickly. Taking his face into your hands, you met his lips roughly with yours in a devouring kiss. He set you down on the kitchen counter hard enough to make the clean dishes rattle. His hands were just as claiming as his mouth, squeezing your hips and thighs as he spread them open to make more room for himself.

While your tongue dueled with his, you shoved the robe off his shoulders, followed by his sleep shirt pooling to the floor. His hand slid under your top as well, and almost ripped it at the hem in his haste to get it up and over your head.

“Ow, ah-ow!” You giggled when the collar got caught on your hair. Ben’s breathy chuckle reached your ears. He was gentler in how he helped get the shirt off the rest of the way. Your mane of hair fell into your face, and you huffed.

Ben did you the favor of brushing the thick curls away from your eyes, tugging several strands behind your ears, even though most of them didn’t obey him. He framed your face with his big hands, and his thumbs swept along your skin, the rich complexion shining in the morning light filtering through the kitchen window.

There was more care in his touch now, his strength tempered just for you. Fond amusement colored his features. For as much shit as you gave him, you still gave him more of yourself; more of your trust, your patience...and all the rest of it. You gave him more than anyone that had come before you, and deep inside, he doubted anyone that might come after you.

You smiled up at him, a little wryly. You leaned up and met him for a gentler kiss. Your eyes fell closed at the feeling of him, and the spicy hint of his aftershave. It was a scent that often clung to his pillows. When he was gone on a mission for days on end, you wouldn’t admit to clinging to one of them to help you sleep, and make you feel safe. 

“Mmm, you smell good,” you whispered. And it was true. He smelled like mint and spicy aftershave. You plied his lips with deeper kisses, licking into his mouth with a sensuous tongue, before you stole his words. “Good enough to eat.”

He uttered a groan deep in his throat. It satisfied you, enhancing the warm flood between your legs.  

Fuck it. You were calling in sick today.

You drew him back into the pull of you, winding your arms around his neck and your fingers in his hair. It was getting long again, but you liked it. You liked something to hold onto, just as much as he did. Your nails brushed against his scalp, down the back of his neck, earning a hum of pleasure from him. You wound your legs tightly around his hips and invited the press of his hard cock against your throbbing core, even through your panties and pajama pants. A faltering groan caught in his chest.

“Needier that I thought this morning,” he remarked. His warm hands drifted down to cup your breasts, his thumbs brushing over dark, pebbled nipples. You sighed into his mouth in response.

You heard the cocky grin in his voice, but for once, you didn’t care. You did need him. You wanted him to fuck the stress and chaos out of you.

…Well, he’d caused most of it, but still. He was gonna damn well fix it.

And he aimed to do just that, with his hands sliding farther down your body with purpose, grabbing the waistband of your pajama pants and roughly sliding them down, along with your panties. Your bare ass felt cold against the tile counter, but you didn’t have too much time to think about it with Ben’s thick fingers probing between the wet, glistening folds of your pussy. He soon found what he was searching for, circling firmly over your clit.

Your hips raised off the counter as you whimpered against his lips and ground yourself against his hand. You broke from his kiss to bury your face in his neck. Ben’s free hand grasped your hip and pulled you right to the edge of the counter.

There he held you down, his brows furrowing in concentration. His fingers sought your entrance and slipped inside you with ease. By now, he knew what angles would have you squirming, writhing, your body arching into him, while your inner walls clenched around his hand.

“Fuck. That’s right, baby doll. I’ve gotcha,” he said roughly, continuing to fuck your pussy with his fingers. His thumb rubbed against your clit between strokes.

The coil in your lower belly began to tighten, the delicious throbbing deep inside beginning to make your thighs shake. But just as you felt yourself tipping over the edge, Ben withdrew his fingers from your sopping channel.

You struggled to catch your breath in shock. Your head raised from Ben’s shoulder to glare at him. When your mouth opened to deliver an indignant protest, he silenced you with his mouth claiming yours. Your nails bit into his shoulder in retaliation, even though you knew it wouldn’t hurt him in the slightest. In fact, it only curved his lips into a smirk against yours.

You slapped him on the shoulder, immensely frustrated, but also laughing. “You’re such an assh—”

Before you could even finish cursing him, he gathered you up again and lifted you off the counter. He walked you over to the couch in the living room. He would’ve loved nothing better than to lay you out across the two-seater table in the kitchen, but he thought the shitty old wood might just give out under the strain of him fucking you. So the living room was a close second, and in this tiny-ass apartment, it was barely a few feet more to walk.

He laid you out underneath him on couch, and it groaned and squeaked under both of your weight. You squeaked too, if for a different reason. It had Ben smirking down at you. He freed himself from the confines of his pajama pants and coated his rock-hard arousal with the leftover wetness coating his hand.

“I approve of the scene change,” you said breathlessly, once again stroking his arms. Your fingers slipped over every dip and plain of muscle.  

“Didn’t think you wanted to be fucked on some cold tile,” he said, even if the sentiment behind his words warmed you. You were pretty sure he didn’t used to care about that. At least, before he met you.

He grabbed your hips, lined himself up to your entrance, and his cock breached you smoothly, pushing into you until his hips fit snugly against yours.

“Oh, fuck,” you choked out, your thighs squeezing around his frame.

“Feel good, sweetheart? All fuckin' filled up,” Ben teased, a bit breathless himself. You were a tight fucking fit. He slid out of you experimentally, drawing a moan from your lips. You nodded.

“Yeah, baby. So good,” you freely admitted, panting all the while.

Ben’s hot gaze drew over you as he continued moving hard and fast inside you. He took in your every bare curve, the way hot breaths and sexy moans fell from your lips with every thrust, the way your hair fanned out underneath you and hung off the side of the sofa cushion, the way your hands still explored him and touched him, demanding, but still loving.

For that, it was all the more tantalizing against his skin, warming even the darkest places he tried not to show you.

And every drag of his cock inside you stretched your inner walls in the most delicious of ways. It wasn’t just that he was able to fill you to the fucking brim. He also just knew his way around a woman’s body. He knew you, and he knew exactly how to make you come undone. Even quick and dirty on your couch, he made you feel brand new. 

He was right, damn him.

The coil deep inside you snapped. Pleasure crested through you and made your inner walls squeeze him tight, fluttering and pulsing with warmth. You came hard on his cock, hard enough to milk his release shortly after for all he was worth.

His forearms fell to the cushion on either side of your head. You were basically being smothered, but for the moment you didn’t mind. You just held his sweat-slick body against yours while you both caught your breath, each of your heartbeats falling back into a steady rhythm.

He was always so damn warm. It was nice, considering how cold it was this winter, but the thought always made you a bit sad. It reminded you of the power housed in his chest, and every memory he caged there as well.

You laid a gentle kiss on his shoulder. In return, his lips found the side of your head and hesitated there.

“You’re not going to work,” he said. It was more an observation than anything else.

You laughed breathlessly and shook your head. “Nope.”

He nodded. “Let’s go out for breakfast.”

You could get behind that. Your kitchen was finally clean, which meant your kitchen was closed until further notice.

“Shower first,” you stipulated.

You felt Ben’s smile grow against your dewy skin. “All right.”

You sighed, and he guided you to your feet along with him. You had a feeling “breakfast” was going to be lunch by the time you and Ben finally escaped this apartment.      

AN: Lol hope you had fun with this one! Let me know if you'd like to see more of these two! 💚💚

Spanish Translations:

Es que él es bruto, mija. Es como un animal con ropa.

It’s that he’s stupid, my daughter. He's like an animal with clothes.

However, “bruto” can also mean brutish, crude, and/or like a beast, so it fits in more than one way. 😂

Sabes que, …

You know what, …

La sirvienta

The servant (or maid) (female)

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@lamentationsofalonelypotato (I believe you said you would like to be tagged in this one. If not, I'm sorry, friend. Please disregard! 💚)

[please-picturemeintheweeds]

What if the point of the entire article was to humanize her by legitimizing her emotions (the very thing that makes her music so powerful and important!), demonstrating her unique vantage point as a small family business woman with the largest social influence on pop culture, and providing insight into her craft that literally could not be gleaned from a list of her accomplishments. What then.

[catwalkvivi]

well hey, since hardly anyone's looking at this corner of the website anyway I might as well take the opportunity to vent (it's annoying to do it on twitter with the character cap)

Man, social media is hard.

I see so many people posting regular content consistently for years and years without even seemingly breaking a sweat, while it's always been so difficult for me... Calculating engagement, deciding the best times to post, or, hell, even just sharing what they think/feel/made/fucking ate that day just seems, like, so easy and second nature for pretty much everyone around me. It's genuinely incredible to me that somebody can share what they've learned about idk shitty impractical tanks made in WW1 on this website and make it such an interesting read that hundreds of people engage with it!

But I've tried keeping social media accounts for art and stuff so many times now, on here, on Instagram, on Artstation, on Xitter, and eventually it just- kinda- fades away, it just feels so exhausting to keep track of all the things necessary to Chase the Algorhythm™ if you wanna have any relevancy. Is it a charisma thing??? Where do I grind to get a stat boost on my Cha???

I'd love to say it doesn't matter to me, since I've been drawing shit for myself for years now, but unfortunately artists do need social media presence if they wanna get work. Not to mention, well, I wanna reach people with the stuff I do! I want people to react to what I made, to say what they liked about it, or how it made them feel, and then when I post something I worked on for hours only to get, like, almost zero visibility? idk, man, it just kinda hurts. It's probably selfish and immature for me to say it, I know that it takes time and effort to build an audience and all that, but damn I get happy when people show me that something I've made has affected them positively. I like the connection, I like the conversations, I like meeting people who enjoy the same nerdy trash that I do!

(I was very fortunate to have an art post of mine reach a lot of notes here years ago, which was amazing, but it's such a rare thing)

God, and, like, there's all these weird unspoken rules about interacting on social media too.

The other day a friend of mine came up to our friend group and was like "oh my god this girl liked my stories on instagram it means something does she like me" and I was SO confused and then they were like "well, when somebody not on your friends list likes your stories, it means they're interested in you"

Then some time later another friend was telling me that somebody stopped liking her posts and unfriended her and how that is a horrible offense and my fucking brain hurt, like- okay I get the unfriend part kinda but there could be a hundred reasons for it??? it's not like you have a deep personal connection to all 300 friends you have on your account???

Then I see so many people out there simply sharing something they think or did only to have some rando twist what they said and come at them like they're the shittiest person on the planet that deserves everything bad in life actually (except the ones that are willingly spouting/promoting hateful shit to begin with. Those can rot in hell and I shall not mourn their demise)

Like??? It might be the Power of Autism™ in me but it always feels like I'm one step away from either making a fool of myself or offending twenty different people or both. It's both the fear of having hundreds of thousands of eyes on me and the fear of having none at all. And that makes it really difficult to share anything on the internet for me. I already have to deal with my entire existence as a trans woman making some cunts around the world mad, it sucks that I have to risk it in places where I just wanna post dumb drawings and talk about dumb things that make me happy with others.

I dunno. Word vomit I guess. Social media is hard. Interacting with humans is hard. Sharing stuff is hard. I prefer Pokémon

[postalenha]

on and off % jake

pairing: playboybf!jake x reader genre: angst, fluff, lovers to exes, exes to lovers idek word count: 1.89k words requested: yes / prompt 14, “we called it off again last night.” / 18, “it’s been you all along.” / 19, “for the first time, i had something to lose.” synopsis: immaturity isn't needed in a relationship, but that seems to be jake's and your's specialty. warnings: curse words, mentions of drinking, throwing up, su!cide, toxic relationship, making out

"i thought you're going with jake today?" sunghoon asked as you hop into his car.

you rolled your eyes at the thought of riding in the same vehicle as the boy, "no, we called it off again last night."

"again?!" the boy exclaimed, "y/n, that's probably the nth time you guys called it off." he sighed in disbelief, "that's not how relationships work." he commented.

judgingly looking at his way, "yeah? like you know any better?"

"shut up." he started the engine, "this isn't about my love life."

"whatever." you blurt out, "i guess being bad at handling relationship runs in our blood." you jokingly said, as your cousin laugh.

he tilt his head smiling, "damn, of all things that can be passed down, that's what we got."

"well, at least we got good looks. that works as a payoff." he added. you agreed at him with a nod, "anyway." you changed the subject.

"i'm planning on ending it with jake." you stated. he looked at you, "no shit, you sure?" he assured, "to be honest, whatever makes you happy." he added, looking like he wanted to say something but he decided not to.

"don't apologize." you led before he could even say sorry for insisting that you should date his best friend, sim jaeyun.

"i'm not- okay whatever." he almost want to deny the urge but he saw you looking at him with a teasing face, "i just feel a little responsible for all the stress this relationship have caused you." he scratch the back of his head, as you slap his arm.

"shut up, dating him was my decision. you don't have to blame yourself for all the bad decisions i made for myself. i'm an adult now." you told him.

parking his car he nod his head, "okay. just remember i'm here if things are bad, okay?"

"okay." you said, before going out of his car. walking at the corridor of your building, trying to see if jake arrived earlier than you today.

and he certainly did. there he is on his designated seat beside the window, silently watching as the wilted leaves fall down from the tree.

the clock ticks time faster than you expected and your professor came in, not able to call out for jake's name to even talk to him.

sitting down to a chair, you told yourself that you'll talk to him later. and here you are, in front of jake sim at the rooftop of your university's main building.

it might be your lucky day for no one else is here but the two of you. this place is usually cramped with so many people and miraculously today isn't one of those days.

this may be one of the many signs sent from above that this relationship should end as it wasn't right from the beginning.

your blood boils as your cousin sunghoon pushes you into the table of his friend group, "come on! you wouldn't lose anything! he just want to talk to you." he shouts.

"then tell him i don't want to!" you shout back a little annoyed. the last thing you want to do tonight is talk to the famous serial dater, jake sim. "for i know, he just wants the best out of me!"

"come on! jake's not like that!" he defended his friend. to be honest, sunghoon is the last person you should be ranting to. for he is just like his friend, they play with girl's hearts for fun.

you rolled your eyes as you reach the table of ego. the decision of naming that wasn't yours, but the other students. they called this the table of ego because everyone in here got some solid ego. heeseung, jay, sunghoon, jake. all of them.

"y/n! you actually came!" heeseung cheered as soon as he saw you, he scooted a little bit on his right to leave some space between him and jake, "come sit!"

sitting beside him was probably one of the decisions you will forever regret in your life. the memory of that night was a blur. you barely recall anything that happened then.

the only thing that you remember was when jake was reaching for a kiss, you accidentally threw up on him before passing out.

the next day, he told you to be his girlfriend to compensate with the mess you gave his brand new shirt. you said yes just so he could shut up, telling yourself you'll break up with him after a day or two.

two months then passed and you are just breaking everything now. well, it's better late than never. you just didn't expect that he would actually be a good boyfriend.

he's mostly good, not until everything gets complicated even with nothing. you fight over the smallest thing like, not being able to respond to each other's text to someone getting jealous.

it wasn't the best relationship you've been in but it was a good experience. you learned so much and now, it's time to move on.

"what is it that you wanted to say?" jake impatiently snapped you back into reality. you swallowed a good amount of saliva before saying, "let's break up."

it was better to say it forward than beating around the bush. with this, more time and energy will be saved. because even if you give him an explanation he probably won't listen.

he slowly blinked and sighed, looking away he said "okay. if that's what you want." see. he wouldn't even bother asking you why.

well, if you get things easy. they would also go easily, "okay. it was fun meeting you." you head out, leaving him there.

he most probably would not be so upset that he might think of jumping off the building, but you still prayed that he wont.

and he didn't. you can guarantee that as you see that three weeks later jake sim is with a woman walking the same isle as you are. the chances of you seeing him here at this huge mall was small, but never impossible.

you grabbed your friend's hand trying to hide from the sight of the man, "what are you doing-"

"shut up, jake is here." you told here looking at their way, walking into a clothing store. you hurriedly go and sit at a restaurant far from them and ordered food when your friend speak up.

"y/n, what's the point of hiding now when you guys already broke up?" she patheticly looked at you who's trying to hide from a menu list.

putting the menu list down on the table, you crossed your arms, "i am not hiding from him. i simply don't want to involve myself with anything that has to do with him."

"yeah, like seeing him in a shopping mall involves you with him." she said with full sarcasm. "you have no idea how pathetic that sounded."

not listening to anything she said, you started eating your pasta. almost choking when you saw a familliar figure walk in the restaurant.

trying your best to lean down and not get noticed you hear your friend call, "jake!" you kick her feet under the table as you see jake wave back and walks closer.

"what the fuck did you just do?" you whispered at her, she just smiles like an idiot as jake reach your table.

"hello, jia." he greeted your friend, "hi, y'n."

flashing a fake smile, you said "hi." satisfied with how annoyed you are, jia announced "you guys can join us! we got two extra seats here."

"we don't want to intrude-" you cut him off, "yes, there are a lot of vacant tables. they sure can find their own, right?"

serving a glass of wine, a waiter says "oh, we're fully booked, ma'am. so if you want to eat here, you have to wait for another hour or so." he said pouring some on your glass. "if you'll excuse me."

"it would be rude if we don't invite you right? so join!" your friend cheered as the girl jake's with sit next to you.

taking a sip of your wine whenever jake helps the girl cut her steak, you became unaware of how drunk you are. "so, when did you meet jake?" you asked the girl.

to be frank, she was quiet the whole time. just sitting there, not saying a thing but a "thanks." whenever jake helps her with anything.

"you can't answer that? well can you tell me if you are able to use your hands to their purpose? like cutting off a steak or puring your own glass of wine?"

"y/n-" your friend tried to stop you. but you didn't listen. you just continued to blabber nonsense until jake grabbed your wrist to the bathroom.

shaking your hand off his grip you screamed at him asking, "why did you bring me here?!"

"y/n why are you being so rude?" he calmly asked you.

you sarcastically laughed, "i'm being rude? who's more rude when you're out here eating at the same table as your ex-girlfriend and your current girlfriend?"

"current girlfriend- y/n that's my cousin!" he tried to calm himself by breathing slowly, pushing the side of his mouth using his tounge "do you really think i could replace you that fast?"

the sudden question made you feel like someone cut off your tounge. because you mostly have answer for everything but this. his question caught you off guard.

"when you broke up with me, i never asked why. i knew you were tired and i don't want to exhaust you more." you hear his voice shake as he speak. "i was also tired and we both needed a break."

you looked straight at his eyes that are sparkling from moist done by the tears that he have been trying so hard to hold back, "but as time pass by, i felt more and more empty. there is a big mark of you in my heart that ever since you left, no one has ever filled."

"nobody could ever fit in, but you." cupping your face he also wipe your tears away. "i never felt that way before. it's like, for the first time, i had something to lose."

"jake, i-" it was as if you forgot how to compose a word. you never knew he felt the same way you did when you broke up with him.

maybe sunghoon was more of your cousin than he is jake's friend. because if jake only knew how many times you told sunghoon that you miss him, he would've came back faster than this.

he smiled pulling you into a hug, "it's fine if you don't feel the same way anymore. i understand that. but i just want you to know that i am not the douchebag you think i am."

pulling away from the hug, you see his eyes were bloodshot "sorry, the last thing i want to do is make you cry-" you pulled him into a kiss not letting another word out of his mouth.

running out of breath, you seperated his lips from yours. you widely smiled at him, "it’s been you all along."

kissing outside a three star restaurant's restroom isn't as ideal as other comeback stories, but you wouldn't ask for anything else. as long as you have jake in your arms, your heart is content.

[not-me-simping-for-blasty]

Wrong Number, Asshole - A Bakugou Katsuki Soulmate AU

All Parts

Part 24:

You groaned, rolling over to grab your dinging phone off the nightstand. 

Rubbing at your eyes, you sat up against your headboard, breathing deeply. As it turns out, a highly emotional day like the one you had yesterday could really tire a person out. It was so tiring in fact that you had collapsed almost the second you fell into bed last night. You had been pretty much dead to the world since. 

Opening your phone, you nearly rolled your eyes at the text waiting for you.

You scoffed. He sure was petulant today, wasn’t he?

He began typing again, but deleted his words.

Now, you were a little nervous. You weren’t being clingy- right? Sure, you really wanted nothing more than to see him again, and sort of felt that maybe you were entitled to that considering he was your soulmate, but maybe the feeling wasn’t mutual?

Who were you kidding, he might have texted you but that didn’t mean he liked you as much as you liked him. This was Bakugou after all, and even if he somehow did, he’d rather chew his own leg off than admit it. 

You read through the texts again, hoping and praying that you didn’t sound too desperate. It was another few minutes before he responded again. With an answer that really did absolutely nothing to quell your fears. 

You blinked owlishly at his reply, before sending him a quick “okay”. 

Bakugou always seemed to know when you were overthinking things- and, on one hand, it was annoying because he never understood that him and his dismissive words were the cause, but, on the other hand, it was nice. To finally feel understood for once. And to finally talk to someone who’s responses, when he tried, were intentionally made so blunt that you couldn’t possibly misunderstand them.

Sighing, you pulled your tired body out of bed and headed for the shower. Apparently your plans, which had originally consisted of being lazy the entire afternoon, were suddenly changing. Not that you were complaining though.

--/--

Stepping out of the cab, you noticed the crowd once again swarming the front of the hospital. The horde of people almost seemed to be moving as one mass, pushing and pulsing against the security guards standing at the entrance. There were a lot of people covered in Dynamite merch and face paint, even little kids dressed up like Bakugou and feigning explosions as they played.

 It seemed that Bakugou’s heroic deed had put him back in the public’s favor and now they all had gathered in a show of support- and while you could appreciate that as a symbol of community, you selfishly sort of wished they’d leave so visiting him would be less of a spectacle. 

You realized suddenly that more of this was definitely going to be in your future; the crowds of screaming people and adoring, over-excited fans. Your soulmate was a pro-hero after all, and quite possibly the loudest man you’d ever met- you should’ve known a quiet life wasn’t going to be an option. 

As it stood now, you had almost no idea how you were going to make it through the massive throng of bodies- and, even if you did somehow push to the front, how you were going to convince the guards to let you through at that point.

“Excuse me!” A young girl suddenly grabbed your arm, tiny fingers clasping around your wrist. “Do you know how to get in! I need to get in!”

You were blindsided, stopped in your tracks and held down by the girl. She was young, but not much younger than you- if you had to guess, she was 17 or 18, with bright eyes and a strong grip that surprised you. This, her, was certainly not what you expected out of today.

“I- why do you need to get in so badly?”

“Bakugou!” She exclaims, eyes glazed over starry and adoring. She thrusts out her other wrist, presenting you with a poorly drawn tattoo. “See? I’m his soulmate!” 

Your stomach drops, and for a second you nearly believe it- but then you snap out of it, and all you can think about is how strange the situation is. She was young, so obviously young, and so clearly charmed by your soulmate’s hero persona. You thought it was a little funny- if she knew Bakugou like you did, you were almost sure she wouldn’t be as delighted with him. 

You weren’t sure how to respond. The immature, prideful part of you wanted to scoff and shake her hands off of you- to tell her just how foolish she looked talking to his actual soulmate. But, then again, you weren’t sure you could say anything about that at all. In all the research you’d done on him, you hadn’t seen a single mention of a soulmate- he never talked about it, never let anyone see even a hint of your name tattooed on him. Maybe he wanted to hide it for the sake of his career? Or, worse, was embarrassed of it?

“H-his soulmate, huh?” You stutter out, unsurely. 

“Yep! So that’s why I need to get in there so bad! To make sure he’s okay!” She rambles. “So, will you help me get in?”

“Y/n! Y/n L/n!” You hear a familiar voice yell, and when you look towards the sound, all you see is a flash of red hair and hands waving emphatically.

Kirishima. Thank god.

“I’ve gotta go.” You shake the girl’s hand off, slightly jostling her with the force.   “I’m so sorry!” 

You hardly recognize the disappointed look in her eyes before your arm is grabbed once again- but this time by a security guard as he leads you to the front. The guard deposits you at the entrance, just a few feet from where Kirishima is waiting for you.

“Sorry about that.” The red-head chuckles nervously, opening the door up for you. “I uh- I woulda said something earlier, but I couldn’t see you to point out for a guard. It’s totally my bad!”

“No, it’s good, you’re good.” You reassure him, following him as he leads you to the stairwell from yesterday. “Thanks for saving me. I was pretty overwhelmed.”

“Yeah. It can get pretty crazy out there- not as crazy as Bakugou, though! You shoulda totally seen him screamin’ and yelling at the window when you walked up. He was super pissed.”

“Sounds like him.” You can’t help but smile. “Doesn’t surprise me at all.” 

“Yeah.” Kirishima nods. “Who was that girl- you know her?”

Your silence and the uneasy expression that rolls across your face must give it away- he almost immediately pales.

“Oh! Yeah- sorry, none of my business, right?” Kirishima turns to face you, stopping at the step above you for a moment and throwing out placating hands. “It’s totally cool, don’t feel obligated or anything, I was just curious! Sorry for prying though, that wasn’t manly of me at all.”

You almost couldn’t believe Kirishima was such close friends with Bakugou- he seemed like the total opposite of your soulmate.

“No! It’s fine- I wasn’t offended or anything. Just,” You paused, looking at you feet as they climbed higher. “She wanted me to help her get in. To Bakugou. Said she was his soulmate.” 

Kirishima turns around again, his feet nearly catching on the step as his mouth drops open. “She said that? To you! That’s insane!”

“Yep.” You nod, slightly breathless and you finally reached the fourth floor. You let out a small chuckle as you continued down the hallway. “She was young though- definitely a fan, so I didn’t say anything. I didn’t really want to crush her dreams in front of all of those people.”

“Man, that’s good. She’d probably be super upset, right? Good job!” He throws you an enthusiastic thumbs up, all shark teeth and bright eyes. “Still though- I shoulda guessed it was somethin’ crazy like that. You looked totally freaked out back there!” 

“Did I really?”

“Mhm,” He nods, finally stopping in front of Bakugou’s door. “I- uh, I better stay out here. He’ll be real mad if I let anyone else through. Especially if you’re in there.” 

“Oh. Yeah. Okay.” You push the handle open, turning back for just a moment. “Nice to see you, though. Thanks again for the save, Kirishima!” 

When you enter the room, you’re surprised to find Bakugou, grumpy and sitting in a chair next to the window. And not in his hospital bed resting- where you’re almost 100% sure he should be. He’s clad in a weird combination of hospital pants and his own sweatshirt- it only serves to make him look even more petulant as he sits with his pinched expression.

“You seemed real buddy-buddy with Shitty Hair.” He grumbles, but there’s a smile beginning to tug at his lips as you near. “You think he’s better than me or some shit?”

“Oh- yeah. Loads. Loads better actually.” You joke, taking the vacant seat next to him. When you turn to look at him, he’s already glaring at you. “Oh calm down, grumpy, I was joking. Box dye and bandanas aren’t really my thing.”

Bakugou laughs. “He’s been pullin’ that shit since high school. Kinda losin’ all hope he’ll ever be cool.”

“Hey- don’t be mean! Maybe he’s just an extra-late bloomer, you never know.” You sigh, fixing him with a serious stare. “Now, though, we should really move onto more pressing matters.”

“Which are?”

“You in one of these chairs, and not in a hospital bed!” You near shrieked. “Which- by the way, I looked it up- four stories is 40 feet! You fell 40 fuckin’ feet and you’re not in a hospital bed, right now!” 

Bakugou just rolls his eyes, fixing his gaze on the window once more. “Stop your freakin’ out already, woman, I’ll be fine. I’m already healed from all the big injuries anyway- so just shut the fuck up about it already.” 

“The big injuries- what about the small ones? Bakugou! 40 feet! Do you know how much that is! I feel like you’re not taking this seriously enough!” 

“Who cares.” He shrugs, settling into his seat with a slight wince. “Didn’t fuckin’ kill me, so who cares.” 

“Me! You idiot! How many times do have to make this clear to you!” 

Bakugou just looks at you, eyes widening as he breath catches. He looks genuinely and plainly shocked- easily the most expressive you’d seen him be aside from rolling in pure anger.

“I already told you, you fuckin’ asshole, that I like you and care about you! So of course I’m happy that you’re not dead, but that doesn’t mean I don’t care about the small stuff!” You emphasized, sighing as you run an errant hand through your hair. “And I can see you’re still fucking hurt, so of course I’m going to freak out when you’re not in a hospital bed- like you should be, and you’re not sitting there resting- like you should be! Who the hell even helped you up? Why the fuck would they ev-”

“Shut up already. I get it.” He mumbles, and when you look at him his cheeks are bright red and he’s biting his knuckle. His eyes are alive though- bright and simmering and so very, very red. “I got up myself. Don’t go blamin’ anyone else for it.” 

“God. Of fucking course you did! You know- you make yourself really hard to care for, right?” 

“I know.”

“And it’s just like- I do it anyway, you know! And get shit-all nothing but anxiety and still choose to do it anyway! You’re so fucking frustrating!”

“I know.”

You turn to look at him, but he’s already looking at you, something soft and pleased growing at the edge of his lips. 

“No! Don’t just sit there and start smiling.” You huff, pointing an emphatic finger at his stupid smiling face. “I’m mad at you and you need to go back to bed so don’t just fuckin’ smile at me!” 

“I get it.”

“No, obviously, you dont! Because you’re not getting up! So, c’mon,” You stand from your chair, offering a hand. “Let me help you.”

Bakugou just looks at your hand, glares at it, and stands by himself. You can see the strain plainly on his face- how the action winds him and how it sends pain shooting through his battered body. When you look at his eyes though, all you can see is resolute stubbornness. With great effort, and even greater determination, Bakugou manages to hobble over to the wall, dropping against it. His shoulders hit first, and then he’s rolling all of his weight back onto them.

You were stunned- not that he chose to do it, because of course he chose to, but mostly that he’d succeeded. You’d seen a clip of his fall, it was playing on the news before you’d left your house, and it looked nasty. When he hit the ground, all of his limbs were so mangled and impact alone knocked him out clean. The injuries he still had, broken bones and cracked ribs, at the very least, must’ve still been causing him great pain- and yet he surpassed those with sheer force of will alone. It would’ve impressed you; if seeing him in so much pain didn’t make you so sad.

“That didn’t look comfortable. I really think you need crutches, angry man.” You point to the bed. “Or you could just go lay back down, like you’re supposed to, and we could forget this whole argument.”

“No thanks. Done bein’ fucking fussed over. The only reason I haven’t left yet is because there’s people everywhere.” 

“And because you’re not supposed to, remember?”

“No. It’s good now. Nurse said I could.” He says, groaning when you stare back at him entirely unimpressed. He points to a bundle of papers and medication on the bed. “Look, gave me all the discharge instructions and everything. I’m not fucking lying.”

You walk over, flipping quickly through the packet of instructions. Bakugou wasn’t lying- he really was approved for discharge apparently, albeit under very specific instructions for not over-exerting himself. Which he was obviously doing so great at so far. 

Sighing, you folded the papers and placed them in the bag with all of his medicine. Regardless of what he wanted, you were going to make sure he took care of himself. And that included, taking all of the medication and performing the physical therapy outlined on the papers.

“Alright, then. Guess we’re going, after all.” You clap your hands together in finality, before grabbing the bag of medication. “I still think you need crutches though.”

You look him up and down, eyes zeroing in on the way he was huddled against the wall. All his weight was in his shoulders, and in any other situation, you might’ve thought it was an effortlessly cool pose- but not here. Not in this hospital room with him dressed in weird clinical sweats and a childish expression.

“I’m not getting crutches. Lame as shit.”

“Are you kidding me? Your body is literally beat to hell- who cares about how cool you look right now?”

Bakugou just nods toward the window, and you peer down to see the crowd from earlier still gathered below. It seemed like cameras and reporters had also joined, and they were making a worrying amount of headway to the door, pushing against security impatiently. It looked entirely overwhelming, if you were honest.

“If I leave with crutches,” He starts. “Then I gotta hear about that shit for fuckin’ weeks.”

“Are you serious?” You ask appalled. “You’re obviously injured! What the hell are they even gonna s-“

Bakugou just hits you with a pointed stare, and it stops you in your tracks.

He’s right. Any weakness- even crutches when injured- would read bad for his career. It would shatter the illusion people had of him. Of his infallibility and limitless strength.

“It’ll draw too much fuckin’ attention,” He elaborates, pulling the hood over his head. “No shitty sweatshirt could help me then.”

“Wait, that’s your disguise for sneaking out? A sweatshirt?”

Bakugou just nods, suddenly pulling the hood up and over his head. It flattens his wild hair against his forehead, and you nearly squeal. He looks adorable- although still very much like himself. You weren’t so sure this disguise would cut it, but you were pretty much out of other options. It would have to make do.

“Yeah. Okay. I get it, put the hood back down.” You pause, trying your hardest to think of another solution. “How about a wheelchair?”

Bakugou just looks even more offended- like your last request was a front to his very dignity. Hell, knowing him as you did, you figured it probably was.

“Yeah, fine, I get it, angry man- no wheelchair.” You sigh. “At least let me help you then? I mean, it looks like you need something at least.”

“No. I fuckin’ don’t.” He refuses hotly, shifting his weight agitatedly against the wall. “I’m fine.”

You roll your eyes, you should’ve expected him to be difficult about this. It seemed that appearing weak was his greatest fear; you thought that was a little ironic- that his biggest weakness was weakness itself.

“Seriously- please. You look like you’re about to keel over where you stand, Bakugou!”

“I told you not to fuckin’ call me that, anymore.” He retorts angrily, but you watch him wince when he moves too much. “And I told you, I’m fine. So just shut the hell up about it already.”

You watch him for another moment, taking careful stock of the way he leans back on his shoulders and curls his arms around his sides. You didn’t ask him specifically- but you’re sure now, Bakugou’s at least got broken ribs- among many other broken and sprained things probably.

Fine, if he won’t readily accept your help, than you’ll just have to goad him into admitting his own failure.

“Hmm, sure, then step away from the wall then, hot shot.”

He’s quiet, but you watch as his eyebrows pinch and his cheeks redden.

“Why? Stop bein’ fuckin’ weird! I’m just standing for a second, leave me the hell alone, shitty woman.”

You just shake your head. It almost disgusts you how much rolling fondness smothers what should’ve definitely been annoyance.

“So, you’re telling me,” You start, walking a little closer to him. “That if you stepped away from this wall right now- that you wouldn’t immediately fold in half like a lawn chair?”

“No!”

“Okay. So do it then, pop rocks. C’mon. Let’s see.”

“I’m- I’m not just gonna fuckin’ do something just because you goddamn told me too!”

“Not even if it’s a challenge?” You tease, nearing him even more. You’re just a few measly feet away now, staring defiantly up at petulant red eyes. “Because it is- a challenge. I bet you that you can’t do it.”

“Fuck you.” He grits out, but then he’s pushing off his shoulders and standing straight. “See? That’ll teach ya to run your stupid mouth about shit you don’t know dick about.”

“Hmm, good words, Katsuki- expressive, even. We’ll see how long you last.”

He doesn’t say anything, but you can see his jaw clenched down; his shoulder’s strung tightly, the slight twitch in his calves. Katsuki isn’t going to stay upright for much longer.

You move before you even recognize it, sidling up to him and ducking under his arm.

“What are you- Stop! Get the hell away!” He barks harshly, but stands in place, not really doing much other than flushing violently. “It’s- I don’t need your fuckin’ help!”

“No, Katsuki, chill out- stop,” You laugh, rearranging his heavy arm over your shoulder. “If we’re doing this then I’m going to help you!”

“Lemme go! I’ll fuckin’ crush you, I don’t need your help!”

“Okay, yes, fine, maybe you don’t need it, but it would make me feel a whole lot better if you accepted it,” You huff, your hand wrapped tight around his wrist. “And you won’t crush me- I’m a big girl, I promise I’ll be fine. So just stop being stubborn- for me? Please?”

He growls, rolling his eyes to the ceiling- but then he’s shuffling closer to you and shaking his head. If you thought his arm was heavy before, you were sorely mistaken- when Katsuki finally surrenders, the solid weight of all his muscles nearly takes you out. You stumble for a moment before regaining your balance.

“Idiot. Thought you said you could handle it?” Katsuki looks down at you, smirking slightly before once again rolling his eyes. “Now, c’mon, fuckin’ get on with it, sunshine.”

You resist the sudden slight urge to nudge his ribs, or let him collapse to the ground- this was your idea, and you wouldn’t let your child of a soulmate talk you out of helping him.

“So, I was thinking-“ You begin to shuffle with him, slightly breathless. “We sneak out the back. Or something. There’s a crowd outside.”

“Already established that, several times, fuckin’ ages ago, dipshit- and of fuckin’ course there is. It’s me.”

“Oh my god, this is not the time for your ego!” You groan, but still keep a steady pace as you begin, towards the door. “Speaking of, though, one of your fangirls told me somethin’ real interesting on the way in, though.”

“Christ. What?”

“Apparently, she’s your soul mate.” You laugh, shallowly, trying to project a confidence you couldn’t feel. “C’mon, Katsuki, you should’ve told me! Total dick move that I had to find out from her!”

He scoffs, patting your shoulder with the hand strung across it. “You fuckin’ tell her off or somethin’?”

“Nope. I told her that I think you guys would make a really cute couple!”

“Are you fuckin’ serious?”

“No- of course not.” You say stopping in front of the door for a quick break. You suddenly weren’t sure whether you could really do this or not. “I didn’t say much of anything, really, didn’t know if I could.”

“Hah?” He looks down at you funny, red eyes squinting. “Fuck’s that mean?”

“You know, your career? Didn’t wanna say anything just in case.”

“Incase’a what?”

“I- I don’t know,” You stutter, suddenly feeling insecure. You focus your eyes on the tiles beneath your feet so you don’t have to look at his eyes. Eyes that you can feel boring into the side of your head. “Just in case, you know?”

“No. I fuckin’ don’t.” He says, mild irritation coloring his voice from above you. “Stop thinking so goddamn much, I can’t fuckin’ keep up- just tell me what you’re all worked up over.”

“It’s-“ You sigh, ringing your hands together anxiously. “You’re- you’re not embarrassed, right? Because, I know I shouldn’t have done this but I was looking you up again, and I just- I didn’t see anything about you having a soulmate? Anywhere? Ever? Do you just not want people to know or- because that’s totally fine, you know, like I get it, you’ve got this super big career outside of me and I’m totally fine if you just wanna like not say anything to anyone or lik-“

“Idiot. Stop thinking so much.” Bakugou tilts his head towards the ceiling. “I’m not fuckin’ embarrassed of you.”

“T-then why?” You ask hesitantly, while staring at your feet. You’re not sure if it’s the jarring movement as he rearranges his weight or your racing heart, but either way you’re feeling sick. “Actually- you know what, it’s fine, forget I even said anything. It’s fine. I’m fine.”

Bakugou doesn’t say anything, just nods and stays silent. Then he looks down at you, at the way you won’t meet his eyes, and he groans.

“Fuckin- fine. God, you always make me say the most embarrassing shit.” He gripes, flushing slightly as you finally look up at him. “It’s not because of any of that stupid shit. It’s- I fuckin’, ugh, I didn’t want somebody else findin’ you or whatever before I did.”

“What? Find me? Who?”

“God, you’re fuckin’ dense.” He scoffs, but when you look up he’s still smiling lazily down at you. “People. Media. Fuckin’ villians probably too.”

“Holy shit.”

“Chill out. I kept fuckin’ quiet so you don’t gotta worry about that now. Besides-“ He turns his head away, cheeks flushing slightly. “I’d blast all those fuckin’ weaklings to hell if they tried anything now. So don’t get all anxious about it or whatever.”

You just look down at your feet, smiling at his words but still feeling unsure nonetheless. You understood- for sure, but that didn’t mean the weight of all these consequences was easy to bear.

“Now can we go? Are we done worryin’ about stupid shit?” He asks lightly, jostling you slightly. “Got more important things to do.” 

You nod, opening the door just to watch Kirishima stumble backwards.

“Oi- shitty hair! What’re you leanin’ against my door like that for?”

“Oh! Hey guys!” He greets cheerfully, before taking stock of the situation. He tilts his head. “You guys leaving?”

“Obviously.” Bakugou scoffs, but then he’s leaning in toward his friend, dropping his other hand heavy on the red-head’s shoulder. “Need ya to distract anyone who walks up here though. Gonna leave the other way and go out the fuckin’ back.” 

“Oh- yeah, okay! Got it, man! You sure you should be leaving though?”

“That’s what I said.” You interrupt, glaring Bakugou into silence as he tries to speak. “But he insisted- and I’ve got all his meds and instructions so I think we’ll be alright. Maybe. If we’re lucky.”

“Don’t just fuckin’ talk about me like I’m not standin’ right here, shitty woman!”

“I wouldn’t have to if you weren’t so difficult all the time!” You retorted. “Now, you can handle it from here, right Kirishima? We really could use your help.”

“Yep! Totally got this! You guys go on ahead, I’ll stand guard right here!” He flashes a bright smile at you, before pointing down the hall. “There’s a staff elevator just down there. You should use that- it’ll probably be way faster. Good luck!” 

You just nod, smiling brightly at him as you pull Bakugou in that direction.

“Oi- not so fuckin’ fast!” He shouts, stumbling slightly.

“Keep your voice down, angry man! Everyone’s gonna know it’s you!”

“How the fuck is my voice gonna give it away?” He says, while simultaneously screaming like a banshee in the middle of an otherwise quiet hallway.

“Like that! So keep it down, good fucking lord.” You grumble, a breath of relief leaving your mouth as you finally near the elevator. You push the button, sighing as the doors open.

Bakugou shuffles away from you, leaning against the back wall and staring moodily at you as you press the button. The elevator surges downward, and after a minute or so the doors began to open again. You shouldered his arm once more looking up to see him pulling the hood of the sweatshirt farther down his face. He looked adorable and you couldn’t keep yourself from staring.

“Oi- fuck you lookin’ at, woman?”

“Nothing.” You laughed. “Now, c’mon, we’ve still got a ways to go.”

Sneaking Bakugou out was no easy affair to begin with, and he certainly didn’t help whatsoever. His frame was just too large and too heavy, and there was no possible way he could be quiet, especially considering his thundering steps, even when he wasn’t screaming. He seemed to attract attention no matter where he was or what he was doing. People were starting to stare as you booked it towards the back exit- you needed to move. And quick.

“Jesus christ,” You huffed, breathless and slightly irritated. You point at his stomach as you pull him along. “I know you’re hurt, but could you at least try and engage those core muscles you so obviously have?”

“You said you’d be fuckin’ fine, sunshine.”

“God, you’re difficult.” You shook your head, rolling your eyes at the sight of his amused little half-smile. “You think this is funny don’t you?”

Bakugou doesn’t say anything, but when you look up at him, there’s still that small smile edging at his lips. He seems to hold it, even through his grunts of obvious pain.

“Wow, of course you do. Immature, angry, loud man.”

“Who says I’m fuckin’ loud?” He asks hotly, pulling his shoulders in as you both shimmy through the, admittedly, small back door. “I’m not fucking loud!”

“God, you’re screaming right now! Do you even hear yourself?” You wince, but feel relieved as you help him hobble to the curb. “How’s a taxi sound, pop rocks?”

“Don’t fuckin’ call me that. I hate it. Don’t do it again.” He grumbles. “But it’s fine- whatever, I don’t care.” 

“Great.”

You raise your hand up, nearly crying in relief when a taxi rolls up to the curb. When you help Bakugou in, and slide in the seat next to him, you’re almost overcome with satisfaction. Sneaking him out was one of the most difficult tasks you thought you’d ever taken on- both physically and mentally, and god, were you glad it was over.

--/--

As it turns out, explosive personalities don’t always lend themselves to explosive environments.

Bakugou’s apartment was clean, tidy, nearly spotless when you helped him walk in. It surprised you, truly, but he didn’t let you sit on that thought for long. He brushed you off, hobbling slowly down a long hallway without a word. It takes a few minutes, but Bakugou enters the room at the end and slams the door shut behind him.

Oh- What exactly were you supposed to do now?

In reality your fingers were itching to open drawers and rifle through cabinets, and just generally snoop but you, of course, knew better. So you instead chose to read through the instruction papers and medications once more- just to busy yourself and maybe see if there was anyway you could help him. Since, apparently, Bakugou was not keen on asking you for assistance himself.

You hear the door open again, and Bakugou comes unsteadily down the hallway, nearly collapsing when he reaches his couch. He’s dressed in new sweats, and he turns to look at you.

“Fuck you doin’ over there?”

“Meds, angry man.” You say, doling out the few necessary pills from a bottle. “Where’s your glasses?”

“You don’t have to fuckin’ do that.”

“What- you’re gonna force yourself to get up again?” You ask him, unimpressed. “You’re hurt, so just please let me help you. At least with this.”

He nods tightly, mouth pressed into a thin line. “Glasses are in the cabinet behind ya.”

You nod, filling a glass of water for him and walking the medication over. Watching as he took it, you weren’t exactly sure what to do now. So you just sort of hovered next to the couch, arms around your stomach anxiously.

“What’re you doing- sit the fuck down already, idiot.” He pats the seat next to him. “Stop being weird. Freaks me the hell out.”

“Yeah. Sorry.” You laughed. “Just didn’t wanna assume- in case you wanted me to leave or something.”

“Wouldn’t have let you in if I wanted you to leave. Dumbass.�� He reaches over, flicking your forehead lightly. “Your stupid thoughts are clogging up the air. Stop it.”

“Hey!” You whine, rubbing at your forehead. “Not nice, angry man! I’ll let it go this time, but try it again and I promise you’ll really be hurting.”

“Mhm. I’m sure.”

He settles further into the couch, throwing his head back and closing his eyes. The mid-day sun floods through the window, hitting the column of his throat, and casting him in gold. You think he’s beautiful then. Far more beautiful than anyone else you’d ever known.

“Yeah, sorry.” You breathe out, suddenly a little nervous by your close proximity to him. “Think those’ll probably make you a little sleepy.”

“Fuckin’ stellar.”

“Don’t sound so grumpy- it’s just a nap. And besides, you should probably be taking one anyway.”

“It’s not that.” He peeks an eye open, lazily rolling his head to catch your gaze. “You hungry?”

“No- I’m good. Are you?” You ask suddenly. “I can totally get you something? Or make you something? What do you have here? What do you want?”

“Jesus, sunshine. Slow the fuck down.” He breathes, turning his head back to the ceiling with a small, fond, smile. He sighs sleepily. “I’m good. Just wanted to ask ya.”

“Yeah. Okay.”

He mumbles something, but you don’t quite catch onto it. It’s quiet for a few moments, before his breathing is starting to slow. Your surprised at just how tired he seems to be, but then again, he was taking some pretty strong pain meds. As it stands now, he seemed minutes from falling asleep, and you were worried about the strain he was putting on his neck.

“Hey- you shouldn’t fall asleep like that.” You touch his shoulder lightly, fingers just barely brushing the fabric of his shirt. “Lay down, I’ll get up.”

Bakugou just opens his eyes, only glancing at you for a moment before he closes them again. Then he’s tipping over, a flurry of heavy limbs and awkward weight hitting your lap. When you look down at him, his eyes are squeezed tightly closed and he’s blushing wildly. He kicks his feet up off the floor, and settles in, quickly becoming deadweight across your thighs.

“O-oh.” You say, breathless. “Yeah. Okay.”

“Mhm. Now shut the fuck up, I’m tryin’ to sleep.” 

“Yeah.” 

You’re winded, short of breath and flushing bright red from his actions; but still, you find you absolutely can’t help yourself. So, with shaking breaths, you’re carding fingers through his hair before you can think better of it. 

When you look down at him, Bakugou’s only gone brighter red, but he’s smiling too. He stills, before suddenly peaking one eye open.

“Wake me up for dinner, alright, idiot?”

You nod and then he’s closing his eyes again, chest rising and falling slowly. He’s asleep and dead to the world in just a few minutes, but you can’t stop staring.

You knew you liked him- liked him a lot, as a person, not just a soulmate. You liked his weird brand of humor and his insults and death threats. You liked his masked concern and blunt words, you were even strangely fond of his yelling- but you weren’t prepared for just how much those feelings would amplify when he was so close. He was close, and warm, and breathing under your fingertips and you liked him so much. More than you’d ever liked anything or anyone else in your entire life. 

You were stricken, absolutely smitten, and there was nothing you could do about it. Or even wanted to really. So you just stared, eyes tracking his calm features as you worked careful fingers through his soft hair.

You understood now- why so many of your peers had told you they were jealous. Why they had all sighed dreamily when you told them, before immediately wishing to be you. Having a soulmate was inexplicable completeness and undeniable purpose- it was finality and new beginnings all in one.

You understood now, and you wouldn’t trade it for anything. 

//-//

ee soz this took so long!! no excuses lmao i just stupidly started playin genshin and holy shIT was that bad for my productivity ahahaha

hope u enjoy my lovelies!!!!

[adashofniallandasprinkleoflunacy]

you’re someone i just want around: I

“And I can't wait another minute

I can't take the look she's giving

Your body rocking, keep me up all night

One in a million, my lucky strike.”

— Lucky Strike, Maroon 5

A/N: this idea started as just random concept drabbling between leyla @sunflowervolvimp3​ and i and we never really thought it would amount to anything tbh!! but as we started putting more and more into the plot and characters, we made the spontaneous decision to make it a full on, multi-chaptered collab fic! we have so many ideas planned and so much to elaborate on and we’re just so mfing excited to share it with you guys :’) any and all feedback is greatly appreciated 💌 we hope you enjoy the first part and that you fall in love with this stupid emotionally unavailable moron the way we did! happy reading!!

andrea’s askbox : leyla’s askbox : ysijwa masterlist : andrea’s masterlist : leyla’s masterlist : 

word count: 17.2k

content/warnings: vampire!harry being a lowkey asshole while downing straight tequila like a psycho, getting to know The Crew, Mitch being the iconic legend he is, mentions of smut, and Harry working his immortal charm on an unsuspecting human girl with a peculiar scent and intriguing personality

///

Harry hates clubs. 

In his two hundred years of life, through many trials and tribulations, through tricky scenarios and annoying encounters, through thousands of unappealing circumstances and patience-testing events, he doesn’t think anything quite compares to the crowded, nerve-wracking experience that is a Los Angeles club on a Friday night during peak hours. 

According to his wise, humble opinion, it’s absolutely fucking petrifiying. He’d rather swallow a stake than have to spend hours in a dimly lit room with synthetic smoke choking his lungs, half-conscious humans stumbling around into him, and the stench of sweaty bodies mixed with liquor fumes, alongside the faint yet unmistakable waft of vomit. 

Yeah, Harry would definitely rather eat a red oak spear than have to shoulder that.

Despite his intense hatred for this Californian city during its after-hours, he can’t deny that he fits right into the scene perfectly. Decades of grooming and practice have made him a prime candidate for the fast-paced characteristics that come with the party nightlife. 

Fitting into these aspects aren’t something he had learned willingly; he didn’t really have a choice on the matter, considering his entire existence depends on mortals immature tendencies to get properly shit-faced and make stupid decisions in tightly-packed glorified bars. Harry never understood that— how a fog machine, strobe lights, and an undergrad amateur DJ could ever seem more appealing than the quiet, stable ambiance of a semi-formal bar. How deranged do people have to be to actually enjoy strangers spilling alcohol on them while attempting to shag someone else two feet away on the dance floor? 

Whenever he dwells too much on that thought, he gets a spiking migraine. After this long, Harry’s just come to terms with the fact that humans are regressing as a species. His conclusion is a bit cynical, perhaps, but hardly difficult to accept. One look at a news outlet provides enough proof to launch an Ivy League research project on the matter. 

He really shouldn’t be complaining, however, because the combination of overflowed close quarters and dampened inhibitions makes it the ideal hunting ground. Picking up a living blood bag at a club is basically as easy as walking through a vineyard and plucking grapes right off the stems. It’s practical, it’s fool-proof, and if he plays his cards right, he gets to feed and gets his more intimate needs tailored (a combo that he and his friends refer to as Laid and Drained).  

So regardless of his distaste towards clubs and their eager inhabitants, Harry had learned to mold his persona to fit the bill, making himself as approachable and desirable as possible. His life literally hangs in the balance; he’d put up with throngs of drunk sorority girls and their affinity for shitty perfumed drinks if it means avoiding desiccation. 

It’s not like it’s hard. All Harry has to do is make himself look more appealing than the other hundred men milling around the establishment, which— if he’s being brutally honest— isn’t that challenging. The moral, physical, and ethical standards of men have dropped frighteningly low since his time. Most of the ones that creep around clubs are overconfident, overzealous, boundary-lacking douchebags who think they’re entitled to a woman’s attention, and therefore make complete, utter fools of themselves in the process of trying to court one into their pants. Buying a girl one Sex On The Beach and dry-humping to Daft Punk isn’t the way to convince her to come home with you. 

Harry has developed his own guidelines and tactics for securing a nightly bedroom companion, and his ideas have been working wonders for him for decades now. 

The first and foremost rule is to clean up nicely. Personal appearance is everything. Humans are visual creatures; they build first impressions solely based on outward attraction. That trait is enhanced the higher their blood alcohol content rises. The drunker someone gets, the shallower they become, and it’s Harry’s job to work that to his advantage. And at the risk of sounding shallow himself, he thinks he does pretty alright in that department. 

Especially tonight, present in all the elements of his physique. He’s clad in a pair of high-waisted tan trousers that have been ironed to a crisp, his fitted graphic tee tucked neatly along his waistband beneath his black leather belt. His t-shirt is probably his favorite part of the entire look. It’s a baby blue sturdy cotton number with pastel yellow detailing along the cuffs and collar and a giant cartoon puppy in a striped bowtie taking up its center, smiling cheekily at the onlooker. Arranged around the doodle in faded Times New Roman bubble letters are the words WE’RE IN THE SHIT. 

Harry loves the irony of the article— the innocence of the drawing juxtaposed by the crude message. The piece is a conversation-starter— people almost always comment on it— and that’s exactly what he needs. Something to draw attention to himself and shadow all the other men. Something that shows he has a personality; that he has taste and a good sense of humor and isn’t just another walking genital. Plus, what person doesn’t enjoy a funny little contradiction, especially when it’s this cute?

On top of his graphic top, he’s wearing a tartan cropped blazer (open, of course) with a creme background and royal blue lines. The hem ends at the bottom of his ribs, exactly where his pants begin, and the jacket's hand-sewn buttons and strap detailings show that it's an expensive garment. It shows that he puts money and effort into how he looks, which is something anyone would appreciate when scoping for a possible hookup.

Harry’s shoes are the most casual factor of his fit. They’re a pair of light yellow Vans that match the collar of his tee. They’re plain, but he keeps them clean and they tie the whole look together without a hitch.

Accessories are everything, as well. Aside from the pearls arranged around his prominent collarbones, the gold-dipped cross hanging from a delicate chain around his neck, and the matching dangling cross earring on his right earlobe (again, he adores irony), he’s sporting a plethora of chunky rings on his hands, each unique and effortlessly complimenting his appearance. On his left hand, his index finger dots a ruby jewel embedded into a thick rusted band, another large metal one with dancing bears on his middle, and two clunky golden letters on his last two digits— his initials, HS. On his opposite hand, he has a medium-width plated ring on his middle finger with peace engraved along its rounded edge, an elegant lionhead number with an amethyst stone snug in its mouth, and along his pinky is a decently-sized opal set into a delicate polished frame. 

His two last rings are the most important of all. The lionhead is his daylight ring, which he hasn’t taken off since he transitioned. It keeps him from bursting into flames everytime the sun hits his skin. The opal was his mother’s, and it was her favorite. 

Harry’s attire is something he’s immensely proud of, even though a good amount of people deem him eccentric in the eyes of modern masculinity. He couldn’t give less of a shit. With his lightly tanned skin, alluring cologne and lacquered nails, his shirt stretching across the defined muscles of his chest and stomach, his broad shoulders and tapering waist, his thick thighs, sharp jaw, jade eyes, loosely tousled chestnut curls, and the vast array of dark ink littering his arms...

He looks good and he knows it. And all the people whose gazes glue to him as he passes by know it, too. Especially a random group of young women in line, who ogle at him shamelessly as he casually strolls past. He treats them to a sly wink, an irresistible dimpled smile, and a soft, cheeky greeting of, “Ladies.”

He gets off on the way they swoon at his refined English accent, giggling and waving. 

The only other component Harry has for succeeding in the club environment is simple, but it’s important: Don’t seduce, romanticize. 

Anyone— even inebriated idiots— can try and seduce a woman. And if she’s had enough tequila shots to cloud her thoughts, they just might succeed. But only a real man can romanticize a girl, and it yields way better results. 

Females are an emotional sect (Harry says that with zero misogyny; it’s just a scientific fact and he actually praises it), which means that if you entertain their interests and fluff their egos, they are bound to fall right into the palm of your hand. It changes the game completely because then they don’t feel that they have to pleasure you, they want to. They pursue the guy who flirts without being too vulgar, who appreciates and acknowledges their efforts, and who can go head-to-head with their wit by carrying unforced banter. They chase after him because he’s showing genuine kindness rather than just sexual interests and if he’s that attentive on the getting-to-know-you front, one can only imagine how skilled he could be in other bases. Chatting up a girl the right way, with patience and courtesy, builds credibility and prowess. And as a thank you, they’re usually more than willing to pay special attention to your needs, as well. 

Thus, romanticizing is always the expert move. So, yes, Harry detests clubs and the disaster that is adult recreation. But he’s fucking amazing at playing it to his favor. He’s great at calculating everything down to the smallest detail and he’s going to piggy-back on those skills for the rest of eternity. He’s so good at what he hates that his closest friends have anointed him the title of Walking Paradox. He’s more than happy to keep it. 

All of these thoughts are circulating around his skull, hyping him up for the game ahead as Harry and his friend group walk up to the bouncer at the entrance of the club they had chosen for the night, faint stars twinkling in the dark sky as the sounds and lights of the city fall away into background static. 

They cruise by the long line of people, hearing sounds of disagreement and grumbling coming from the other patrons waiting to get in. Harry casually tucks his large hands into the pockets of his light brown slacks as he pulls up in front of the burly bald man, who is wearing a black shirt with the club’s name printed in neon letters. The security guard is at least five inches taller than him, overswollen biceps and pectoral muscles rippling under the flimsy material of his work outfit as he crosses his arms over his barreled chest, cocking a single thick eyebrow at the seemingly young vampire. 

Harry delivers a good-natured smile up at the employee, despite the man’s obvious begrudging disbelief at what he is about to try and do. His friends chat quietly behind him, uninterested in what is happening; after years of being acquainted, they know that Harry is going to get exactly what he wants. He always does. 

He’s the best of them, that much is obvious. Not only when it comes to his experience with persuading sexual partners and getting himself a decent dinner, but he’s the best at convincing just about anyone to do anything, neutral of gender. He’s the second oldest of the crew, yet he seems to have the most knowledge and practice under his belt; his easygoing charisma, undeniable good looks, and dazzling smile could sway even the most stubborn of souls. Frankly, he’s so successful in getting his way that no one cares to try and argue for the leader position. Not when they can just sit back and let Harry do all the work. 

“Good evening.” Harry’s deep voice chimes giddily in the direction of the bouncer, his accent particularly heavy for no real reason. “How you doing tonight, mate?”

The guard— whose name tag reads Brock and Harry has to actively stop himself from snorting at how fitting the name is for such a brick of a human— looks down at him with a stony expression, voice flat. “I’m good.”

“Well, that’s great to hear!” The curly-haired boy’s simper widens, dimples popping into place as he skates into his next question with dramatic friendliness. “Haven’t had anyone cause you any trouble tonight, have you?”

Brock blinks once, attitude remaining coldly indifferent even in the face of Harry’s cheeriness. His words, however, are snipped and pointed. “Not yet.”

“I’m guessing you’d like to keep it that way.” The young man comments sympathetically, nodding his head along with the worker. “Totally understandable.” 

“Good.” The employee remarks in the same detached tone, shifting on his feet, obviously growing uncomfortable and irritated with the conversation. “So I’m guessing that means you know you have to get in line.” 

Harry glances over his shoulder at the lengthy expanse of people gathered along the side of the building, a light wind filtering through his freshly-shampooed ringlets as he studies the way the bright sign on top of the club casts alternating rainbow colors across the crowd. 

He makes a disapproving sound by sucking at his teeth, lulling his sight back onto the guard. “I don’t know, man. At this rate, I feel like by the time we get to the front of the line, it’ll be last call.”

“Maybe.” Brock shrugs offhandedly. “It is what it is, right? Fair’s fair.”

“Yeah, you’re right.” Harry returns his gesture, but his posture shows no intention of moving, the corners of his rose lip set in a knowing smirk. “But since you’ve been having a good night, do you think you could find it in yourself to just let us through? We’d greatly appreciate it.” 

The bouncer’s face hardens, any shred of professional amiability washing out of his defined features. “I don’t think so.” 

The vampire’s shoulders sag in exaggerated disappointment. “Are you sure? It’s just five of us. Don’t think we’ll do much damage. Right, guys?”

Harry glimpses over his back to his friends, who let their conversation falter for a moment to throw out a chorus of half-assed agreements, trying to keep themselves from snickering. 

“We promise we won’t cause any problems.” Xander speaks up, jutting his chin encouragingly at the man as his lips twitch slyly. He lifts one of his hands, the smallest finger sticking out stiffly and wiggling around. “Pinky swear.” 

The rest of the group bursts into a round of light laughter, causing Harry to release a few airy giggles of his own.  

Xander looks over at Niall, raising his eyebrows and quipping in an innocent manner. “Right, Ni? No funny business tonight. That means no climbing onto the bar again and stripping down to your socks.” 

“That happened one time!” Niall exclaims incredulously, socking the taller boy in the shoulder as the others laugh harder than before, his blue eyes narrowed and face pinched. “Once! And it was only ‘cause Harry challenged me to a tequila shot contest.”

The Irish vampire’s accented voice drops darkly as he reminisces. “Fuckin’ hate tequila. Makes me act like a moron.” 

“As if you’re not one already.” Mitch pipes up in his usual soft dialect, chuckling as he ducks away from Niall’s vengeful fist. 

Harry cranes back to face Brock, thumb playing with his daylight ring as his hands stay relaxed inside his trousers. He shrugs one shoulder easily for emphasis. “See? You can let us through. We pinky swore.” 

The entire charade seems to have only infuriated the security guard more than before, his brows now fully furrowed and a deep, unamused frown etched across his previously pursed lips. His voice is on edge with barely controlled anger. “I’m not putting up with any shit. If you want in, go to the back of the line. If not, leave.”

Harry sighs grandly in defeat, head shaking slightly. “Guess I’ll just have to go the other route, then.”

The creature takes a step forward towards the employee, close enough that their chests almost press together. The bulky man stands his ground, though there’s a flicker of surprise in his eyes at seeing the smaller boy make such a bold move. 

“What the f—?”

Harry locks gazes with Brock, pupils dilating to twice their size, the usual emerald shade of his irises flickering a haunting red and looking sinister in the buttery light of the street lamps. Horror breaks across the worker’s face, the ability to form coherent sentences disappearing from his demeanor. Harry’s heightened senses can hear the way his heartbeat spikes, blood instinctively rushing into his chest as a response to the adrenaline materializing in his veins. The activation of human’s fight-or-flight modes is always so oddly pleasurable. Just feeling how they react so drastically makes Harry’s fangs tingle with longing. Fear is a good condiment, he’s learned; it gives blood’s usual metallic flavor a certain twang.

But at the moment, a beverage from this specific tap isn’t the one Harry has in mind. He has his interests set on something much tangier and full-bodied; maybe Casamigos golden tequila, or Don Julio's Blanco. Preferably mixed with a young office secretary or a Bath and Body Works employee instead of lemon and salt. 

All in all, Brock is just collateral for a much bigger prize, which lies behind the roped off area he holds dominion over. It’s Harry’s job to break that dam. 

Before the large man can fully react, the vampire begins working his compulsion strategy, tone coming out level and soothing, thick with persuasion and teetering along a sleepy undercurrent. “You’re going to let us through, and you’re going to forget we ever met.”

The guard’s pupils enlarge to match Harry’s, the look of utter terror on his face melting right off. His features go slack as the monster’s magical influence works its way through his brain, coating every neuron and bending him to the deliverer’s will. The man reaches over and removes the velvet rope blocking the group’s path, stepping off to the side obediently with an empty expression present across his appearance. 

The leader of the group smiles just as brightly as he had the second he’d walked up to the door. He passes by the worker, giving him a hard pat on the shoulder and feeling the muscular man strain under his supernatural strength. “Thank you very much. You have a nice night, Brock.” 

Harry’s friends follow behind him, echoing his parting message and sharing a collective chortle.  

The second the group dives past the frame of the club entrance, the whole ambiance of the atmosphere changes. Harry walks across the top ledge of the establishment, coming to a halt at the railing that overlooks the main level of the club, his inhumanly sharp eyes bouncing around all the corners of the building to construct some type of familiar layout in his head. Amidst the blinking lights, thick artificial smoke, and swaying bodies, his keen instincts sketch a mental image for tonight’s hunting ground. 

The bar is at the far left corner of the club, squared off and taking up a large chunk of the colorful tiled dance floor. The music station extends across the entire wall at the opposite end of the tavern, stocked with massive speakers and a professional turntable. Harry’s brows jump in mild surprise— it’s not every day that a club puts so much effort into their mixer. 

The animated dancing area is packed with people, the crowd all jumping and grinding to the beat of the bass, moving as one large mass while the rotating strobe lights hang from the cavernous ceiling, bathing their moving silhouettes in neon reds, drunken blues, groggy purples, and electric yellows. The dim surroundings and heavy fog make all the hues more intense, giving the endless party that timeless quality which people tend to enjoy about nightlife. It’s the night to remember effect that movies and shows always hyperbolize; he thinks this way because he’s well aware that not even a third of these people are sober enough to know what the fuck they’re doing, let alone recall it the following day. It’s comically ironic, really. 

But Harry profits off that liquor amnesia, so he brushes away his sardonic skepticism for the time being, settling his lean forearms onto the metal railing that lines the second story of the venue, which is meant to keep shit-faced customers from creating a messy lawsuit. He carefully absorbs the grandeur of it all, leaning his weight forward with a detached sigh, already flickering through the mental menu of his favorite drinks that he has expertly memorized. 

He’s in the process of choosing between a Manhattan— it isn’t a very complicated drink, which is exactly what he’s looking for; something simple and strong— or just straight tequila in a glass when he suddenly feels a familiar presence arrange itself beside him, bumping his shoulder playfully with their own.

Harry snaps out of his recipe retrieval, eyes casting to the side to land on his best friend of almost a century. He cocks an eyebrow expectantly, waiting for the thin, bearded man to make the first move towards conversation.

“You’re a real dick, y’know that?” 

The green-eyed vampire sputters into spontaneous laughter, the edges of his eyes crinkling as the small pits in his cheeks jolt awake. His tone is humorous and full of fake insult for the hell of the joke. “Wow, alright. So I get us into the club that you chose and that makes me a prick? Good to know. You can handle the muscle next time, then, if you’re gonna talk shit.”

Mitch cracks a gentle jesting grin, which is very on brand for him. He doesn’t seem like much, with his skinny, lanky frame, delicate features, shoulder-length hair, and somewhat scraggly stubble. He’s quiet, reserved, and hardly engages with anyone outside of their immediate group. He’s always been that way for as long as Harry could remember. 

When they had met back in 1924 at a speakeasy in New York, Mitch had given off a mysterious vibe that Harry had found amusing and intriguing. His slightly sickly appearance and distant persona made the younger vampire want to get to know him better; it was just so peculiar that this seemingly impassive man was working at an illegal bar as a live musician. One would think that a performer would have to display an engaging character to keep a loyal audience, but Mitch had been all the talk of the underground despite his unemotional coolness. It was startlingly unorthodox and Harry just had to know more. 

Therefore, with a bit of help from his convincing supernatural abilities, he’d secured a spot as the black market club’s leading vocalist. He wasn’t anything worth a Grammy, but he could keep his singing in tune and follow Mitch’s guitar rhythms easily enough, all thanks to his limited experience with piano. He fit right in. 

From the first show they had put on together, it was like they had known one another in a different lifetime. They clicked so flawlessly it was almost fictional. 

Harry was lively and charming on stage, working the crowd to his favor as easily as he could knock back a shot, wrapping every single patron around his jeweled pinky without breaking a sweat. His witty temperament countered Mitch’s timid disposition perfectly and that uncommon dynamic had been the foundation to their friendship. Their humorous shenanigans on stage (which included Harry pinching at Mitch’s ass and making vague vulgar motions at each other while harmonizing) was a hit within the drunken community, and it bled into their personal lives. They went from only interacting on stage to sharing drinks together afterwards, to hanging out outside of work, to deep late night conversations about the world and their experiences.

Soon enough, they were closer than either had expected to become. And once they found out each other’s true identities (Mitch had transitioned during the American Revolution, when a vampire in his battalion had given him blood to heal from a wound, unaware that the next day, Mitch would suffer a fatal gunshot to the stomach that would trigger his transformation) they grew inseparable. They had remained that way ever since. 

Despite his friend’s withdrawn tendencies, the older vampire never hesitates to make his opinions heard, obvious in how he’d just full-bodied Harry with that snarky comment. Even when it’s at his expense, Harry appreciates and respects the rawness of it. He loves the way Mitch is honest and straight-forward with everything that crosses his path— it’s one of his favorite traits about him and definitely one of the characteristics that had led Harry to deem him his best friend. He’s probably the most fulfilling person Harry has ever met and their friendship brings him a type of comfort that he doesn’t receive from anyone else.

Vampires can be so detached and cold not only towards humans, but towards one another, and it gets old at times. It’s unsettling not having someone to truly confide in, and Harry is grateful that Mitch had been so willing to fill that position.   

Due to this, Harry rarely takes genuine offense in Mitch’s digs. They’re normally expressed as a joke and they’ve both been alive for so long that thick skin is a default.

“How was I dick?” Harry inquires, slinking his head to the side with entertained curiosity. “If anything, he was the one being an asshole. I asked him to let us in nicely and he practically spit in my face!”

Mitch snorts in amusement, shaking his head lightly as his eyes streak across the humongous room in the same cunning manner Harry’s had. “You and Xander didn’t have to mock him that way.” 

That’s another thing that makes Mitch the better half of their power duo— he still has a decent shred of humanity in his unbeating heart. Pessimistic conclusions aside, Harry does have a bit, as well...but his is more like a paper-thin pencil shaving than a shred. Barely there, but there, at least. 

The young man returns his companion’s snort, rolling his eyes up to the hanging lights over their heads. “Was just some harmless teasing. Nothing bad came of it.”

Mitch scowls scoldingly. “It was unnecessary and mean.”

Harry mimics his expression with his nose scrunched sarcastically. “We were just taking the piss, and it’s not like he’s gonna remember it anyways. Stop being such a kill-joy.” 

“Stop being such an arrogant little shit.” 

“Or what?” Harry tilts his chin up challengingly, the amber specks around his pupils glinting tauntingly, faint black veins momentarily webbing across the whites of his eyes. He sweetens his voice into a honeyed drawl. “Are you gonna spank me, daddy? Have I been a bad boy?” 

Mitch belts out a feathery chuckle, shoving his friend with enough strength to send a regular human flying across the deck. But since the taller vampire matches his force, he hardly moves an inch. “Fuck off.” 

“I’m being serious!” Harry cackles, turning his hips and sticking out his ass towards his visibly disgusted acquaintance. “Go fucking in, if you want.”

He lowers his voice into a sultry hum, wagging his backside jestingly. “I like it rough, baby. Why don’t you bend me over this railing and show me who’s boss?”

It’s Mitch’s turn to roll his eyes to the ceiling, voice deadpan. “I think I’ll pass.” 

Harry juts his lower lip into a theatrical pout, sniffling faux tears. “You’re rejecting me that quick? Who’s the asshole now, huh?”

His best friend doesn’t even blink. “Still you.”

“I can live with that. And it’s probably a good call on your end to give up all this,” he signals vaguely up and down his tight torso with a ringed hand, grinning as he watches the veteran vampire pretend to gag, “because I don’t think Sarah wouldn’t be too happy about it.” 

Mitch’s humorous face immediately drops, eyes narrowing at the change in topic. “Very funny.” 

“I know, right? I’m a proper comedian.” Harry quips proudly, batting his lashes mockingly. “Where is Sarah, anyways? Have you heard from her lately?” 

Sarah and Mitch...They’re a complex couple, if they can even be called a couple. The two are more like occasional friends with benefits, “occasional” meaning “once every couple of months, if Sarah happens to be passing by.” 

Their relationship is open and very loose, mostly due to the fact that Sarah is fairly new to the world of blood-driven immortality and has decided to take full advantage of it. She’s been using compulsion to travel the world for the last three years since she changed, which had been the result of an unfortunate car accident. 

Mitch had been seeing her casually beforehand, keeping her around for the purpose of having a conventional feeding arrangement. Every time vampires feed, they heal the wounds they inflict with a bit of their blood, proceeding to then wipe the person’s memory with compulsion in order to eradicate any chances of getting caught. The caveat is that if a human dies with vampire blood in their system, they become one. 

Sarah’s death happened the day after she’d spent a night with Mitch, and one can imagine how distressed she had been when she'd awoken atop a metal table in a morgue within the basement of a hospital. Mitch had been there from the very first second she’d opened her eyes to her new life. Or rather, her dead life. He had helped her get accustomed to the next stage (meaning having to cut family ties in order to avoid a catastrophe— the less people that know the truth about the supernatural, the better) coaxing her through transition and teaching her the way to go about the rest of eternity without putting herself and others in danger. 

Vampires rarely have any compassion for life (usually out of spite, which stems from how their own lives were taken from them), so it’s not uncommon that bodies are found drained of blood in back alleys, abandoned warehouses, and washed up on banks of oceans and rivers. It could be either of two reasons, or even both: the monster doesn’t care about the consequences of their actions, or they never learned to control their urges. 

Harry’s crew isn't that careless. Through Mitch, they had learned restraint, taking up his practice of feeding enough to satisfy themselves without killing the host, healing them, and then erasing the occurrence from their memories. Mitch had come up with the tactic to cling to his humanity— to be as kind and nondestructive as possible— but if Harry’s being honest, most of their friends only play along because it’s convenient. No bodies means no police involvement, and no police involvement means being able to settle down in one place for an extended period, not having to stress about the annoying process of bouncing around the world for the rest of their lives to avoid detection. 

Keeping low was for the best, and when things get rough— whether it be a mistake on their part or a disastrous bender caused by another vampire passing through— they resort to drinking from blood bags until things tide over. Mitch has a contact at the nearest hospital, which is how he gets access to the stock, as well as how he managed to clean up Sarah’s passing so quickly. 

All in all, Harry had only mentioned Sarah to tease his friend, knowing the slight sensitivity that comes with the subject. Vampires rarely form emotional bonds, typically because it can get really messy, really fast, whether that connection be to a mortal or to another creature of their species. All of them have baggage of some sort— you can’t die, resurrect, be forced to abandon your family, and be a slave to drinking blood for the rest of eternity and just...be normal. That type of extreme emotional turmoil is corrosive towards love. It’s always better to just avoid it all together. 

That’s why this is so habitual to joke about; it’s a way to deflect. 

Mitch sighs grandly, Harry’s question echoing in his skull. “I don’t know where she is, to be honest. Last we talked was, like, four weeks ago, I think. She was in Japan, said she was drumming for a new upcoming band. Haven’t heard from her since.”

Harry nods his head once in understanding, itching to steer the theme of their conversation elsewhere now that he knows the topic is in a more sensitive state than he’d imagined. He doesn’t want to push Mitch into a depressive episode when they’re supposed to be having a good time. Spending the night consoling his sulky friend in the bathroom of a club is the last thing he wants right now. 

“I guess that makes Sarah the asshole, then.” He pokes jokingly, bumping the older vampire’s hip with his own. “She’s ghosting you. Get it? It’s funny ‘cause she’s actually dead.” 

Mitch’s sad expression shatters like glass, replaced by one of unamused secondhand embarrassment at the shitty pun. “I fucking hate you.”

“All the people who were ahead of their time were hated.” Harry sing-songs, turning up his nose haughtily. “Copernicus, Socrates, Einstein— all of them were hated for being geniuses. I’m willing to carry that same burden.” 

Mitch blinks at him three times. “No one hated Einstein.”

The curly-haired boy’s lips twitch darkly. “I’m pretty sure Japan did.” 

“You’re going to hell.” 

“I’m already there, mate.” 

Mitch shakes his head, but even through the black lights, Harry can see him trying to ward off a laugh. After a moment’s pause, he speaks up again softly. “It’s not that hard to refrain from humiliating innocent people who are just doing their job, H.” 

“Oh, for fuck’s sake, you’re still on that?” The broad monster groans in exasperation, palms slapping down on the metal rungs below him. “We were just having some fun! But fine. If it helps you fake sleep at night, I’ll try and keep my condescending flare to a minimum.”

“That’s all I’m asking.” Mitch responds peacefully, tapping his nimble fingers casually along the railing, his action much less violent than his companion’s. “S’not too difficult.” 

“Whatever.” Harry scoffs, returning his intent gaze to the dance floor, scoping out the scene once again in hopes of finding a proper meal for the night. 

He zones in on a group of young women gathered along one side of the bar, their messy giggling and lack of balance giving away that they’re obviously sloshed off their faces. Seems promising enough. 

When he talks once more, his tone holds an attitude that plays on a grumble, but it’s somewhat distracted. “The least you could do is let me have some fun, considering I didn’t even want to come.” 

Mitch huffs, making an entertained noise in the back of his throat. “You say that every single time we go out, and yet you always end up taking someone home. Don’t know why you’re complaining.” 

Harry side-eyes him from his peripheral vision, the corners of his pretty cherry mouth dipping down grudgingly, mood defensive. “You drag me to these things so I’m not going to apologize for making the best of it. I put a lot of effort into my pick-ups! I deserve to get my dick wet.” 

“God, please don’t say that again.” His best mate physically makes a vomiting sound. “You’re acting like a spoiled fraternity douche.” 

Harry’s gaze ignites into flames, his back straightening out as he fully turns to face the shorter man. He’s never been insulted so low before. “Take that back!” 

“Take that back!” Mitch mocks in an exaggerated, high-pitched British accent, attempting to stifle giggles. 

“Take it back! You know how much I hate Gen Z.”

“Okay, boomer.” 

“You’re older than I am!” 

“I know. Your lack of maturity is a constant reminder.”

Harry opens his mouth, prepared to make a sharp comeback about how Mitch should have left the shaggy-haired stoner aesthetic back in the eighties, but then a heavy Irish accent interrupts his rebuttal. 

“What’s all this about getting your dick wet?” 

Both of the vampires turn towards Niall, finding Xander and Adam accompanying him in a loose semi-circle. 

Xander isn’t paying any attention, too busy tapping away at the screen of his smartphone, apparently engaged in a very riveting conversation with whoever is on the other side. Adam has his hands tucked into the pockets of his plum purple wind-breaker, looking over Harry’s shoulder, seeming to be adamantly searching for someone in particular amidst the mob on the level beneath them. Niall is the only one interested in their dying conversation, probably only because he heard something crude being mentioned. 

“It’s nothing.” Harry dismisses, but he can’t help but stick Mitch with a glare. “What’s the plan for tonight, then?”

Adam speaks up for the first time. “Charlotte and Ny texted saying they got here about ten minutes ago. Mentioned they were dancing near the DJ station, so I think I’ll go find them.”

“Sounds good.” Harry bobs his head in accordance. “We’ll see you out there, yeah?” 

Adam returns his action, turning on his heel and heading for the stairs that lead to the bottom floor. The leader of the group watches him trot onto the large spiral staircase, disappearing into the thick throng of people scattered across its wide steps. 

Harry shifts his attention to Xander, snapping his fingers a few times in his direction and giving a two-toned whistle. “What about you? What’s got your head?”

“Not what, who.” Niall teases, wiggling his eyebrows suggestively and making kissy faces at their friend. 

Xander ignores him, glancing up at the green-eyed brunette to let him know he’ll be with him in a second, returning his focus back to his iPhone. After a few more elongated moments of typing, the older man finally locks his device. 

“I have a date.” He throws out casually, almost as if it should be obvious. 

“A date?” Harry reiterates slowly, not quite buying it. Xander doesn’t date. He couch-surfs just as much as Harry does. 

“Mmhm.” Xander glimpses behind his fellow vampire, eyes carrying intention. “It’s just a random dude from Tinder. I thought it’d be easier to set something up beforehand, just so I don’t have to spend the whole night trying to figure out if a guy is making eyes at me or trying to keep his whiskey down.” 

“Smart.” Harry shrugs his sculpted brows, impressed. A cocky grin toys with the corners of his mouth. “But we both know no one will ever compare to me.” 

“Right.” Xander scoffs in a deadpan manner, gifting him a tight, aggravated smile. “If only you weren’t such an emotionally unavailable prick.” 

“Oh, like you’re mentally stable enough for a relationship?” Harry bites back, but it holds no true malice, just some petty rivalry. “Piss off.”

“Happily!” The other vampire exclaims, clasping his hands together for dramatics. “Have fun finding someone out there. I’m just gonna grab a to-go box for my already prepped meal.” 

Harry doesn’t bother watching him leave. Instead, he turns to Niall, pointing at him to symbolize it's his turn to share his plans for the night. “What have you got, Lucky Charms?” 

His friend breaks into a jolly cackle at the nickname, arms falling crossed over his chest, hands absentmindedly squeezing his elbows in thought. “Well, I dunno, Tea and Crumpets. What’s your game plan?” 

Before Harry can answer, Mitch butts in, feeling left out of the banter and somewhat hurt that no one had assigned him an alter ego. “What’s my country-derived nickname?” 

Niall gives the American a slow once-over, shifting in his dark brown Clarks boots, fitted navy slack riding up his thighs and allowing his rainbow polka-dot socks to peek out. He hums lowly in the back of his throat, a grin spreading across his rosy cheeks. “Biscuits and Gravy.” 

Harry chimes in, his own arms casually folding over his strong chest, index finger tapping on his bottom lip as if mulling something over. “I quite like We The People, actually.”

The Irish lad snaps his fingers as if having a sudden epiphany. “Uncle Sam!”

Harry’s emerald eyes twinkle with glee at seeing the way Mitch’s go half-lidded, no longer entertained. “Four Score And Seven Years Ago.” 

“Okay, I think that’s enou—”

Niall wags a finger at Harry, lifting one shoulder in question, seeking approval on his next idea. “Star Spangled Banner?”

Harry copies the boy’s motion from before, snapping his fingers and making jazz hands. “I Pledge Allegiance.”  

“Ok, I get it!” Mitch whines with annoyed finality, pushing off the metal railing with a curt grimace on his scraggly face. 

“You asked!” Niall rationalizes between hiccups of evilly delighted joy, cupping his stomach as if to keep it from splitting open. 

“Won’t make that mistake again.” The older creature grumbles, leaning his back against the rungs and looking off towards the distance, communicating that he’s done being a part of the conversation. 

Once Harry manages to reign in his giggles, he rubs at his nose with the side of his finger, releasing a wistful sigh. He refers to the question Niall had stated before their little bullying fest. “I think I’m just gonna do what I always do— sway a nice, pretty girl into doing some not-so-nice but very pretty things.” 

“Solid.” The Irish bloke remarks, toying with the plastic buttons on his silk beige top. “Not much to do other than that, to be fair. Adam’s usually my wingman, but I guess he abandoned me for a girl’s night.” 

“Mitch is mine, and he knows better than to dip on me.” Harry roughly nudges his best friend with his elbow, dodging to the side when Mitch tries to hit him in return. 

Niall hums softly in amusement. “Maybe I should make Adam sign whatever contract you drafted for that poor bugger.” 

The curly brunette snorts. “Good luck. Adam’s as stubborn as they come. But, hey, if you can’t find anyone, just come to me.” Harry’s irises flit crimson for a millisecond, an ominous smirk buckling his features. “You know I’m always happy to share.” 

“Thanks,” his friend exhales flatly. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

“If you’re taking tips,” Mitch pipes up, vaguely signaling at Niall’s shirt with his chin, “maybe don’t wear that stupid shirt next time. The elephant doodles look ridiculous.”

“It’s a good thing I’m not taking fashion tips from anyone who actually enjoyed living in Ohio, then.” Niall snaps in an exaggerated American accent, middle finger jutting towards the other man. “The only thing you know how to dress is a cornfield scarecrow. Must be why you look like one.” 

Harry forces down more laughter, clearing his throat softly. “You’ll be fine. Just don’t get hammered— girls hate that.” 

“Note taken.” The pale boy runs his fingers through his hair, fixing it up and adding texture to appear more laid-back and rugged. “I’ll see you later, then.”

“Later.” The younger vampire recites, giving a big thumbs-up. 

“Good luck out there. You, too, Boston Tea Party.” 

With that, Niall saunters away, leaving a fully laughing Harry and a grouchy Mitch in his wake. 

The two acquaintances decide to follow in everyone else’s example, descending down the looped staircase and chatting about Mitch’s latest gig at a new bar downtown. 

Harry praises Mitch's talent with his guitar, specifically the fact that he found a hobby which he enjoys so much that he’s willing to keep it as a permanent part of his life. It’s easy to get bored of things when you have hundreds of years ahead of you; everything can seem pointless, in the end. But Harry doesn’t think Mitch has ever let himself fall into those types of dark headspaces and he finds that extremely admirable. 

Harry wishes he could say the same. He’s no musical prodigy, that much is obvious, but he is an expert at playing a few specific French songs on the piano by memory. He rarely does it, though; only when he’s in a low state of mind, which— given the origin of how he learned said classical pieces— isn’t something he’s proud of. They’re tied to a very gruesome part of his past that he’d rather bury deep inside, but he can only push back his troubles for so long before they begin to leak out, staining the clean sheet of recovery he had sewn into place. Those arrangements just bring him a warped sense of comfort he can’t explain.

Even though he’s aware of the destructive aspects of the songs, he finds himself humming one now out of instinct as he elbows through squished bodies and flailing limbs. The second he notices he’s doing it, he cuts it off, focusing all his intention on making it to the other side of the room to the bar. It’s a hard trip when it feels like the walls of the building are closing in on him. 

When Harry finally breaks free from the Human Centipede re-enactment that is the club dance floor, he practically collapses onto the sleek glass counter. Death was less painful than that walk. 

He cranes his neck to the side wildly, suddenly remembering that his much smaller, much skinnier, much more crushable friend had been in tow behind him. To his utter shock, he watches as Mitch calmly weeds around grinding drunk couples with the poise and grace of a swan, filling the empty spot besides him without a single ailment in the world. 

Harry blinks at him blankly in silence, almost as if he’d grown an extra set of fangs. 

Mitch flags the bartender from all the way down the counter, not bothering to meet the green eyes peering at him in disbelief. “You’re so fucking dramatic, H.”

“How did you not die? Again?” Harry sputters, sight jutting all around the older vampire’s body, looking for any battle wounds or missing appendages. “I almost lost an arm in there!”

“It’s a good thing it wasn’t your favorite one, right?” Mitch smirks at his own lewd joke, the simper molding into one of genuine kindness when the mixologist slides up in front of them. “Hi, how are you? I’m good, as well, thank you for asking! Yeah, I’ve got something in mind. Don’t worry, I’m not one of the ‘just make me something sweet’ type of assholes.”

Harry zones out the rest of the friendly chat Mitch entertains with the employee, letting his gaze wander around the large auditorium-like room. He dances his vision over the DJ remixing music on top of the stage, head beginning to bop along to the beat that is currently shaking the seven foot tall speakers. He’s pleasantly surprised at how good this specific producer is. 

He continues scoping out the rest of the venue, taking notes of the different clusters of people that seem to hold promise for the plans he has in store later tonight. A small group of hippie friends here, a two-party duo of tipsy stoners there, and a clump of college students at the edge of the ruckus, stumbling around loudly. Things are looking somewhat decent, in his opinion. The hippies seem to be catching his attention more than the others— specifically, the one that looks similar to Stevie Nicks. That’s a fantasy that’s been waiting to be fulfill for decades now. 

Harry lulls his head forward again when he feels Mitch give a squeeze at his elbow, telling him that the bartender is waiting to take his order. He decides to go for the gold tequila, asking for it straight in a highball glass without any garnishes. The worker’s eyebrows jump up slightly at the unorthodox request, but he drops a polite, “Coming right up.” either way.

“You truly have no flavor.” Mitch tuts once their waiter has stepped away to prepare their drinks. “No taste buds whatsoever.” 

“Yeah? Well, you can suck my flavorless dick.” Harry chimes brightly, eyes crinkling shut as a result of a theatrical smile. 

The younger vampire goes to turn back around, legitimately interested in the girl he’d seen that looked like one of his seventies celebrity crushes, already running through scenarios in his head on how he’d get her into his bed for tonight. Weed and ABBA are probably good conversation starters for that, if Harry’s undisputed people skills have anything to say about it. 

As he’s rotating his torso, a blurred image catches his eyes. He does a double-take, honing in on a group of girls that look faintly familiar. He scans them carefully as they huddle around the corner of the bar area, laughing and toasting along to the multiple conversations they all have going at once. They look like the typical posse that would be a backdrop clique in a mainstream movie. 

He knows where he recognizes them from— it had been the same girls he’d spotted earlier up on the second deck.

Harry expertly surveillances each woman, picking out potential candidates as easily as he’d pinch petals off a flower. The one in the center of the group is obviously the leader, present in how she’s the prettiest and is somehow managing to juggle all of these interactions at once. It means she’s used to being the center of attention— probably strives under it. He throws her out as a potential; the last thing he needs is someone who everyone knows and seeks out. He wouldn’t be able to sneak away with her quietly. 

The rest of the girl crew all seem to be the same status-wise, appearing as supporting characters to the main one in the middle. He could choose any one of them blindly and it wouldn’t make a difference. They all seem so tight-knit, they probably share personalities, at this point. It’s like dipping his hand into a jar of jelly beans and they’re all the same flavor. That notion makes him laugh to himself a bit; maybe Mitch was right about his lack of taste. 

Then, Harry spots her, and all the other women immediately go up in smoke. 

It’s hard not to spot her. She sticks out like a sore thumb, but not in a good way. 

The prospective contender is off to the side, sitting atop a barstool with her feet tucked along the footrest, tapping them against the metal rung awkwardly. She’s talking to one of the other people in the group, but the interaction seems forced and not very satisfying, obvious in both of their faces. She’s tracing her middle finger around the edge of her glass cup distractedly, the contents inside barely touched, the ice in her drink long-melted. She seems disinterested in the chaos her friends are causing, her expression bored and borderline regretful, as if she doesn’t want to be here. 

The further he sizes the girl up, the more appropriate she looks for the role he needs filled. Since barely anyone is paying attention to her, that means he can lead her astray without too much resistance from her acquaintances, if any at all. She appears somewhat unimportant to the narrative— merely a background extra— and it makes him wonder what she’s doing with this clique of women that can’t seem to be bothered by her presence. It’s sad, really. Sad, but beneficial, because that means he can succeed in making her the supporting protagonist of his narrative, at least for tonight. 

The girl is attractive, but not anything astronomical. She’s unconventionally pretty in a way that makes her relevant, but not particularly distinct in the eyes of regular men with presumptuous standards. She’s easy to pass up, and if Harry hadn’t been actively pursuing someone of her bashful persona to card into his plans, he wouldn’t have noticed her. At the risk of once again sounding shallow, Harry’s aware that— physically speaking— he’s very much out of her league. His above-average appearance gives off the vibe that he’d fit better with the leader of the group instead of with her, but he doesn’t want someone that would raise suspicions as a result of their absence. This girl, sitting along the edge of the party with barely any purpose and no one to really question her whereabouts, is exactly what he’s looking for. She’s perfectly imperfect for the cause. 

Harry continues to examine her meticulously, analyzing other traits that can give him a better feel for her character. She’s clad in a pair of high-waisted pastel pink silk pants that stop right at her ankles, accompanied by a flouncy creme lace blouse tucked into her waist. Tan wedges, no accessories, delicate rosey nail polish, and minimalist makeup. The boldest thing about her is the brick red shade of her lipstick, which is easily shadowed by the sparkly sequin dresses, five inch heels, and layered tops her friends are wearing. 

Harry likes her outfit, though. It’s concise and safe, which he can appreciate. Yes, perhaps she looks like she belongs in a dentist’s office rather than a Los Angeles nightclub, but he thinks there’s beauty in simplicity. She looks cute, and that’s good enough for him. 

“She seems interesting.” Mitch’s soft voice snaps him out of his detail-hungry haze, drawing him back into the reality that is the black lighting of the club and the deep booming of the music’s bass. 

His friend slides his tall drink across the glass counter, the amber liquid inside warping his reflection. 

“I suppose so.” Harry answers passively, shrugging one shoulder in indifference while accepting the cup, ringed fingers clinking against the crystalline surface. 

He takes a leisurely sip from the straight tequila, its tangy kick sending a warm surge up through his ears and down his throat, spreading into his chest and along the trench of his tummy. Alcohol really is the cure to everything. 

Mitch gives him a deadpan look, the strobe lights alternating across the glossy surface of his hazel irises, highlighting smugness. “You’ve been gawking for five minutes. Put your pride back in your pants and go talk to her.” 

The curly-haired vampire flashes him a light smirk over the rim of his drink, absentmindedly tapping his two initial rings along the bottom of the highball cup. “Ever so blunt, aren’t you?”

Mitch scuffs, taking a swig from his trusty beer bottle. Out of everything, that’s the one aspect Harry despises about his best mate— that he goes to a club and orders the same drink every time. Where was the fun in that? Where was the excitement of trying something new? When you have an eternity, the least you could do is utilize it to your advantage. Cycling through every cocktail in human history is a prime example of making the best out of immortality.  

But Mitch is a creature of habit— as are most of their kind— and Harry knows he won’t shake easily. Not when it comes to surrendering his preferred beverage, and definitely not when it comes to sticking his nose in Harry’s intimate business. Meddling and being irritating are what best friends are for. 

“What can I say? Pep talks are my forte.” The older monster remarks sarcastically, bumping his bottle against Harry’s glass in encouragement, using the spout of his container to point in the general direction of the mysterious girl. “Now go make dinner.”

“But, darlinggggg,” Harry whines playfully, a smirk still tugging at the corners of his slightly liquor-swollen lips. “I made dinner last night. Isn’t it your turn?”

Mitch rolls his eyes and shoves Harry’s shoulder harshly, with just enough force that it actually has some type of impact this time around. “Just go, before she gets creeped out by your staring.” 

Harry’s own irises copy his friend’s actions as he pushes himself up from the bar, rubbing at the new sore spot on his shoulder with an exaggerated pout present. “Ow.”

Mitch blinks at him flatly, fighting off a grin. “You’ve had worse. Go.”

Harry swivels on his heel, once again facing the group of tipsy girls at the other end of the counter. It appears that most of them have dispersed into the dance floor, having found partners to entertain them for the time being, moving to the music as if there are no other people in the room. They had left behind three of their companions, one of which is Harry’s aspiring hookup; he gets the feeling that the two girls had stayed behind out of the kindness of their hearts, feeling too guilty to leave the runt of the litter all on her own. He hopes that’s the case because if so, the second Harry inserts himself into the situation, they’ll take that chance and split, leaving him to tend his meal in peace.

He tucks one large hand into the front pocket of his trousers, the grip on his glass tightening a smidge, rings biting into his skin as the condensation of the chilled tequila cools the small spike of pain. He spins his lionhead ring around his finger within his slacks, gradually drifting closer as he goes through a checklist of prized pick-up lines he could use to garner her attention. He ducks and dodges inebriated club-goers with ease now that he’s had something to take the edge off, finally reaching the end of the bar, slowly coming to a halt right behind his target for the night. 

Harry nearly passes out as soon as her scent hits him. 

It’s faint and tender and nothing quite like anything he’s encountered before, a mixture of honey and lavender that permeates through her normal perfume. He feels like his head’s been put through a wringer, his whole body clenching for a moment as raging sparks erupt across the pit of his belly. He indulges a deep breath, willing the blazing current away in order to keep his cool, but all he can see flashing before his eyes are images of her leaving traces of that smell smeared all over his face as he bobs his head between her quivering thighs.

He takes another penetrating inhale, centering his mind back into the present. He needs to behave.

Her friends spot him immediately, their side of the conversation faltering to ash. They give Harry a wide-eyed once-over, mouths parting in slight shock as they drink up his attractive appearance, gazes lingering along his thick chest as it strains the baby blue material of his tee. Their sights drag across his broad shoulders, dainty collarbones, and strong neck, faces gawking without remorse, blinking emptily at the slope of his sharp jaw and the peaks of his prominent cheekbones. They seem to be at a loss for words the second his dimples indent into place, his brows shrugging in a half-assed greeting before he cocks his head to side a tad, voice velvet as it directs towards the girl they had forgotten existed.  

“I’m guessing you’re the designated driver?”

Y/N jumps slightly in response at the new addition to the painfully dying conversation, not recognizing the heavy English accent and deep baritone that booms behind her. She had been wondering why Melissa and Isabel had stopped talking so abruptly, and she now has her answer. 

Y/N slowly goes to cast a curious glance over her shoulder and Harry can hear the pulse flaring in her neck from the sudden intrusion to her surroundings. His fangs prick along the inside of his bottom lip due to carnal instincts; he has to will them back into receding. 

 When her eyes land on the owner of the random words, her finger immediately halts its swirling motions along the hem of her glass.

‘Fuck.’ is the only thought that registers through her short-circuiting mind. 

The lanky, curly-haired brunette that stands before her gives a gentle yet confident smile, the gesture dazzling even in the low lighting of the atmosphere. He’s absolutely gorgeous, with deep pits carving into his cheeks, perfect teeth complimenting full cherry red lips, eyes the color of a rainforest canopy, and a broad frame that is somehow not overwhelming. He’s sporting neatly ironed tan slacks, a fitted cotton shirt with a cute yet crude graphic at its center, a fancy plaid coat, and crisp yellow Vans without a single smudge in sight.

Y/N can’t help but take notice of all the little details of his fit, especially the accessories. A beautiful pearl necklace laid along his delicate clavicle, a cross resting between his defined pectorals, and a matching earring dangling from his earlobe. Not to mention the array of clunky rings arranged along nimble fingers, hugging a tall glass carrying caramel liquor and somehow managing to dwarf the cup’s size. The extra decoration is sensual in such an unexpectedly delicious manner. 

The hand he has tucked in his pants ducks out to comb through his dark auburn ringlets and Y/N can feel her mouth water at the new round of elegant rings. The action activates the cologne Harry had thoughtfully spritz in specific pressure points along his body, the scent of tobacco and vanilla traveling through the fog-heavy air and causing Y/N’s stomach to summersault. 

The young man is as close to flawless as anyone could ever come. 

Y/N feels an unmistakable sharp pain shoot through her ankle, and she comes to the realization that it had been the tip of one of her friend’s heels. The reality check jars her out of the embarrassing daze he’d spelled onto her, open mouth snapping shut and her lashes fluttering over her previously unblinking eyes. 

“Oh! Uhm—uh—” She clumsily twists sideways to fully face him, swallowing thickly and tasting the remnants of the alcohol she’d barely been nursing. “N-No. I’m not— well, I don’t think…? We Ubered here so that wouldn’t make any sense ‘cause I have no car to drive...so...” 

The boy chuckles softly at her choppy monologue, his laughter warm and inviting, similar to the look reflecting off his shiney irises, the golden flecks around his pupils seeming to swell and shrink from the rainbow lights cascading across them. Despite being caught off guard and utterly embarrassed, she can’t seem to break eye contact with him. The longer she gazes into his eyes, the more relaxed she begins to feel, a fuzzy heat stemming from the center of her belly and spreading up her neck and ears. 

Y/N gulps heavily like before, willing her tongue to produce a less embarrassing comment. “Sorry. Let me...Let me start over…Hi.”

“Hello.” He quips back playfully, lopsided grin widening in fond amusement. He lifts his drink up a bit in greeting. “M’Harry.”

“Y/N.” The girl squeaks out, copying his gesture because it’s easier than forcing her disoriented brain to try and come up with its own. 

Harry flirts his intent up and down Y/N’s body slowly, checking her out without any subtlety. He wants her to know he’s interested. 

When his sight locks with hers again, he bats his lashes sultrily and pours as much passion as he can into his tone, accent weighing in just right. “S’nice to meet you, Y/N.”

Her entire face prickles at how her name sounds dripping from those faultless raspberry lips. She’d pay anything to hear him say it again. “You, too.” 

This is not what Y/N intended. This is most definitely not what she’d intended to happen when she’d reluctantly agreed to go out with some coworkers on a Friday night, giving in simply because she had promised herself she’d be more social within her new job. 

She had moved to California roughly two months ago, wanting to get away from her old life in the small, boring town she hated to call home. Buying the flight had been a drastic decision made when she had been under the influence of something she’d rather not admit, but the following day— after she had sobered up from a wicked hangover— she found herself not wanting to cancel the trip. Found herself craving the excitement and adventure of beginning anew somewhere far away from everything she had ever known. 

All of Y/N’s friends back home had supported her without hesitation, egging her preposterous idea and congratulating her on “getting the fuck out of here.” Her family had been a little less supportive, but after a few heartfelt chats about following your ambitions and a budgeting lesson from her cousin, they had gingerly gotten on board. They understood that keeping her trapped in that lame town where nothing really happened wasn’t the way to ensure her success in life. Therefore, the people closest to her had swallowed their opinions and respected her choice to dive off the deep end, in search of something better beyond the borders of their tiny city. 

Within a week, Y/N had secured a decent job at a semi-popular cafe, courtesy of a connection from a family friend. Within two weeks, after many sleepless nights full of Rocky Road ice cream and the bright white pages of ApartmentFinder.com, she had managed to book a nice flat close to her place of work. It was a miracle, if she’d ever seen one. Especially within the crowded, expensive community that is Los Angeles. Within three weeks, she had been walking out of the giant glass building that was LAX with only two suitcases in tow, boarding an Uber to her new life. 

Things had never seemed more picturesque, she’d thought. Everything was falling into place in a way that seemed almost blessed by the universe.

Then, the culture shock hit. 

California was different. It’s was so fucking different than anything she’d ever faced and she wasn’t prepared for the social difficulties she’d have to hurdle. All her life, Y/N had grown up with the same people around her, spending every school year with them up until graduation, expanding her friend group as time passed. Even after high school, she’d remained closely connected with most of her graduating class. The region she lived in was tiny, tight-knit and friendly; it was hard not to. She couldn’t even go to the store for groceries without bumping into at least three people from her Algebra II class. 

Point being, it had been ages since Y/N had been put in a situation where she actively had to try and make friends. She’d been through that challenge way back in kindergarten and had never been hit with it again. 

Until it smacked her across the head here in LA.

Y/N didn’t mesh well with Californians, she quickly found out. They were all about crazy parties and club-hopping, whereas Y/N had been raised on community cookouts and mass sleepovers. They enjoyed getting cross-faded and streaking down the beach at two in the morning, meanwhile Y/N liked stripping down to her undies and spending the night binging Queer Eye while stuffing her face with Cheeze-Its and Snickers bars. They freely boasted about their sex adventures while bussing down tables at the restaurant, while Y/N’s intimate life had been nonexistent since the move. 

It was just...startling, to put it lightly. It wasn’t what she had expected at all, and that’s mostly her fault for not doing the correct amount of research before jumping headfirst into a cliche LifeTime film. 

Therefore, Y/N had made a pact with herself one month in, swearing to let loose and allow her surroundings to sweep her into a new dynamic— into a new, social butterfly version of herself. She’d started accepting the invitations from her coworkers to go out at night, and she’d started putting more effort into being open to wild experiences, no matter how scary they might seem. Shutting down and refusing to mold to her environment would only result in her having to return home with her tail between her legs, and she’d rather jump naked off a pier than see her parents’ faces wracked with pity. 

And that’s exactly what she’d done a couple nights ago, at the encouragement of the group of girls she was at the club with now. It had, in turn, ended in her coming down with a mild cold, but at least now she’d be able to tell her friends back home a cool story about dropping inhibitions. 

Dropping inhibitions is also why Y/N’s here tonight, dressed in the most party-like outfit she could put together, prodding an overly-boozy drink into her system, attempting to release some of the tension that had been building in her head for the last couple of weeks since she’d left her old life behind. That’s why she’s here, with strands of her blow-dried hair catching on the dark red gloss Melissa has slathered on her mouth in a thick layer. That’s why she’s here, with synthetic smoke scratching at her lungs and drunken men and women bumping into her every two minutes, most of them too busy sticking their tongues down each other’s throats to realize they’d almost toppled her off her seat. That’s why she’s here, with a blasé expression plastered across her features as her coworkers talk over her head without a second thought, her mind far away from the walls of this overhyped horror house. 

Y/N had been thinking about how she’d just started her Disney+ membership, finding comfort in putting together a mental checklist of all the movies she’s going to plow through the second she sets foot past the doorframe of her apartment. Indulging on her childhood was an ideal form of escapism, in her opinion. She’s positive Walt Disney would agree. 

That’s what her brain had been lost in when Harry’s deep, melodic voice had interrupted her daydreams, sending her spiraling into an embarrassing performance of nerve-induced hysteria. 

Now here she is, blinking back at him dumbly, eyes the smallest bit damp from the smoke machine and neon flashes of light. And here he is, smirking at her over the rim of his glass, eyes raking down her wired up body suggestively as he takes a calm sip from what appears to be the straight tequila in his colossal, bejeweled hand. 

The English boy takes a gradual step closer to her, wanting to make sure he’s not crossing any boundaries that would make her uncomfortable. The scent of his cologne intensifies and she feels a fiery heat suddenly pour between her clasped thighs. It just hits her how long it’s truly been since she’s gotten laid and fuck, it’s sad.

Harry begrudgingly peels his attention away from Y/N for a second, aiming his words towards the girls standing behind her with their mouths still opened stupidly. Even from a respectful distance, his warm breath still washes across her jaw and cheek, causing electricity to zip down her spine. “You don’t mind if I steal her for a bit, do you?”

‘Yeah,’ Y/N thinks in the back of her muddled skull, ‘that’s definitely tequila.’

Isabel and Melissa slowly shake their heads in unison, glancing at each other as if to confirm he’d just spoken to them. 

The edges of Harry’s lips jolt into a kind, easygoing smile. “Thank you. Promise I’ll keep her safe.” 

Y/N feels her heart hiccup at his statement. If she’s not insanely mistaken, it appears to have carried an undertone of dirty intentions. God, she’s praying she’s not mistaken. 

The two girls clamber away on their tall pumps, rounding around Harry and pausing for a moment. They make moaning faces and vulgar motions behind him, encouraging Y/N to pursue the stranger. She then watches them disappear into the throng of crowded bodies, leaving her alone with the beautiful boy and her heart slamming against her ribs. 

Y/N focuses back onto Harry, licking her itching lips lightly, not knowing what to say next as he settles himself beside her. He rests his forearm on the counter along with his drink, tucking his other hand back into  his trouser pocket and fixing himself into a comfortable standing position, crossing his ankles nonchalantly. The friction between his jacket and the bar rides his sleeve up an inch or so, and Y/N gets a view of the anchor tattoo he has along his wrist, as well as the upside-down cross inked between his thumb and index finger. 

Harry catches her looking, mouth twitching with a smidge of arrogant self-assurance. He loves when girls drool over his tats. 

“I have more.” He remarks lightly, a pang of condescending pleasure shooting through his chest at the way she jerks and pins her gaze down to the floor. 

Blood rushes into her cheeks at the realization that she’s been caught and Harry’s teeth grind. It’s so hot watching her fidget for him. Maybe he finds her more attractive than he’d originally let on. “Would you like to see them?”

Y/N timidly coaxes herself into locking stares with him once again, looking up at him from beneath her lashes, barely nodding with a soft, “Sure.” 

She looks so pretty like that, he notices, staring up at him all doe-eyed and shy. It’d probably look even better if she were on her knees.

Yeah, he definitely likes her more than he’d thought. 

Harry proceeds to shift about, shrugging his coat off his strong shoulders, letting it slip down his lean arms and reveal the plethora of dark tattoos strewn across his left arm. Y/N watches avidly, drinking up every flex of his biceps under the black paint and every twitch of his pecs beneath his cotton shirt, the tendons along his throat going taut for just a moment. That moment is enough for her to etch the image into the back of her eyelids for the rest of her life. 

Harry tosses the article onto the table, extending his arm over its surface for her to get a better reading. She doesn’t miss the chance, her pupils tracing over every line and stroke of the pen, over every shaded area and meticulous detail. 

His voice comes out as a low, garbled murmur, his own irises studying her features with just as much intensity. “You can touch them, if you’d like. I don’t mind.”

After a moment of hesitation, the brim of her crystalline cup is replaced by the ridges of his smooth, tanned skin. She drags her digits over the naked mermaid, tracing the curve of her figure and the dip of her tail, then passing onto the stem of the large rose, ghosting over every thorn and prickle. Harry can feel her heartbeat through her fingertips and it’s making him throb. 

“They’re very pretty.” Y/N whispers, allowing her touch to fall away, palm finding refuge across the counter. “Did they hurt?” 

“A bit, yeah. But I’ve gotten so many done that I think I grew numb to the needle after a while.” Harry answers, shrugging one shoulder to show it’s no big deal. He grasps his glass once again and takes a drawn-out swig, extending the action just so she can see the way his Adam’s Apple bobs as he swallows. Once the cup is back in its place, his tongue peeks out and swipes any leftover liquid from his rosy lips, which then settle into a coy simper. “Plus, I kinda like the pain.” 

Y/N’s breathing stutters in her lungs and she swiftly swerves the topic onto something much less explicit. “So why’d you ask if I was the designated driver? That’s kind of an odd question. Very out of the blue.” 

Harry lulls his middle finger across the hem of his glass, exactly how she had been doing earlier, the motion weighed by an innuendo. She seems to understand it, present in how she bites into the inside of her cheek. “I just figured that a pretty girl like you would have easily found someone to dance with. So when I saw you sitting here looking all bored with your drink barely touched…I just assumed, I suppose.” 

And there it is again— the blood pouring into her face. Christ, if she keeps that up, he’s going to fucking lose it.

“Thank you, that’s— that’s really sweet. Proper gentleman.” 

Harry runs his bottom lip between his teeth, eyes snapping to her tinted mouth for a second, establishing some sexual tension that he’ll expand on as they go. “Who doesn’t like a guy who knows how to treat a girl, right?” 

Y/N clears her throat softly, obviously phased by his forward compliment, but she tries to play it off. “To answer your question, I— uhm...I’m not really one for the club scene, I guess. Don’t really like it, but I didn’t want to be rude and turn down the invitation.” 

‘Good girl,’ Harry thinks, silently cheering her on for having more brain cells than the typical human. 

“Well, that’s where we share some common ground, then.” He chimes brightly, a soft smile bringing his dimples to life. “I don’t care for clubs, either, but my friends have an affinity for them so here I am.”

He gestures vaguely towards the general direction where he’d left Mitch, continuing his rant. “The choking smoke, the annoying strobe lights, the crowded floor, the drunk morons—”

“Bumping into you without giving a shit.” Y/N finishes his sentence, her vulgarity drawing a boyish giggle from her companion and now she’s convinced she’d do anything to hear him laugh like that again. “And there’s always a faint smell of vomit coming from somewhere.”

Harry slaps his hand down against the glass table in passionate agreement, voice pitching up slightly as his brows jump in emotion. “Right?! It’s fucking disgusting. Don’t understand how anyone could genuinely enjoy it.” 

Y/N nods vehemently, sharing the same expression of utter distaste towards the subject. “It honestly doesn’t make any sense to me, either. Why come here when you can go to, like, a nice bar somewhere, y’know?”

Harry blinks at her in astonishment, her opinion mirroring his own with psychic-like accuracy. “My thoughts exactly.” 

“Great minds think alike.” Y/N responds playfully, taking a hearty gulp from her drink since the first time he’d spotted her from across the room. 

After a comfortable pause, Harry speaks up, also entertaining another sip from his own drink, which is now nearly empty. “Are you from around here?”

She can’t be. Rarely anyone born and raised here is willing to bash the status quo, and never so openly. 

She’s once again mesmerized by the attractiveness of his rings, but manages to get her composure in check. “Kinda. I moved here about two months ago.” 

Precisely his point.

Harry releases a curious hum over the cup between his lips. “Let me be the one to officially welcome you to Cali, then! Where people go to shitty clubs for fun and tan themselves into a strip of leather.”

Y/N sputters out a half-suppressed giggle and Harry’s brows almost furrow at the weird fluttering in his stomach. He rarely gets it.

Y/N takes another deep gulp of what he thinks is probably an Old Fashioned, silently praising the way she’d finished it off so quickly. She crunches an ice shard between her teeth and lets it melt across her tongue before engaging again. “I’m guessing you’re not from around here either though, are you?”

Now it’s Harry’s turn to chuckle a bit and she fights off an endeared smile. 

“What gave it away?” He asks, purposefully doing a thicker, fuller accent, his teasing nature making the grin she’d just stifled fully break through.

Y/N lifts a shoulder offhandedly. “Your accent seems a little too…posh for this area. Or even this hemisphere.”

Harry scoffs softly, the pinky around his glass sticking up jokingly as he kinks an eyebrow at her, a few rouge curls falling across his forehead. “Keen ears, mate.”

Y/N lifts her drink up a bit with a playfully knowing air, mimicking an English dialect. “Cheers.”

He places his empty cup down on the counter, his middle finger once more ghosting around the edge absentmindedly. She notices the pastel yellow polish covering his nails, tiny black smiley faces decorating the lacquer.

“I like your nails.” She admires, tipping her empty lowball towards his hand for significance. “Did you do them yourself?”

Harry glances at his fingers, stretching and wiggling them out, his features taking on a bit of pride. “Sure did.” 

“Don’t think I’ve ever met a guy at a club who could pull off nail polish so easily.” 

The left edge of his lips flicks upwards. “How do you mean?”

Y/N’s gaze bounces back to his and the tone twirling in his jade irises tells her everything she needs to know about keeping this conversation going: he enjoys being praised. 

She chooses her next words carefully, wanting to appeal to his interests. “I mean that it looks amazing on you. The color suits your skin nicely, makes your hands look good.” 

Harry breaks eye contact, glimpsing down at his shoes and she realizes he’s actually trying to hide a blush. The fact that she had managed to coax one out of him boosts her confidence while simultaneously making his own waver. He’s never like this— never so easily flustered. He needs to get it together.

Harry tilts his chin back up, lower lip strung between his two front teeth. His voice comes out as a flirty laugh.

“Known you for maybe,” he looks at the beautiful watch on his wrist symbolically, “ten minutes, and you’re already stroking my ego just the way I like it. I think that’s a record.” 

Y/N doesn’t know if it’s the liquor she’d just consumed too quickly, or if it’s Harry’s intoxicatingly alluring scent dulling the region of her brain that controls fear, but she’s suddenly filled with a strange surge of courage and her thoughts are spilling down her semi-numb tongue before she can stop them. “I’ve been told I’m pretty good at stroking, so an ego’s not too hard to handle.”

Harry cocks an eyebrow, surprised at her brazen reply. He might have misjudged her more than he assumed. However, he can’t say he doesn’t enjoy this girl more than the one he thought he was going to receive. There’s just something about how she can match his banter without a problem, and how they share a lot of the same thoughts and opinions, that just lights a fire in his stomach. 

“Is that so?” His voice lowers in pitch and he scoots a step closer, fingers just barely brushing against her arm as he repositions himself against the bar. His question comes out as a sultry murmur. “What else can you handle?”

Y/N knows that she’s starting to cross a line, and with every passing moment, the likelihood of returning to her friends is getting smaller and smaller. She’s not mad about it. Riding off of the wave of confidence that had inflated her ego earlier, she mumbles her response back with the same tone and texture. “How about you buy me another drink and then maybe you’ll find out?”

Harry gives her a boyish grin and the indents that pop into his cheeks nudge his appearance from an incredibly attractive man to an adorable cheeky boy. He motions to the bartender for another round of drinks, only letting his eyes flicker away from her for the moment it takes to do it. “How do you like LA so far?”

“It’s...alright.” It’s Y/N’s turn to move closer to him now, flicking her hair off her shoulder, hoping that the motion releases the perfume she’d dabbed on her neck while getting ready. Judging by the darkening of Harry's eyes, it does just that. “It’s definitely a change in pace from where I used to live, but I think I’m slowly gaining the reigns. I feel like once I get acquainted, I could grow to love it.”

“LA’s definitely a toggle. You could either vibe with it, or it’ll eat you alive and spit you back out.” 

She bats her lashes at him in stunned fright at his bluntness, his face deadly serious without any twitch or give. 

Harry then bursts into high-pitched laughter, eyes crinkling shut and nose scrunching. “I’m just fucking with you, love. Ease up, hm?”

“You asshole!” Y/N exhales grandly, half in relief and half in indignation, slugging him on the shoulder. All she feels is hard muscle beneath. 

He continues to cackle, sticking his tongue out at her. “Looked like you were about to cry.” 

“It definitely crossed my mind, yeah!”

The bartender arrives with their fresh drinks and Harry tells the man to but both of Y/N’s on his tab. She feels her cheeks glow, telling him he doesn’t have to, but he waves it off and says he’s more than happy to serve such a nice girl as herself. Especially if she “hates the same things I do. Think of it as your initiation gift into the Anti-Club Club.” 

A handful of heartbeats tick by, full of comfortable quietness as they both savor their new beverages. Harry pipes up first, regaining their topic from before.

“But, yeah, Cali’s for sure a special place. You meet some cool people if you hang around for a while. But sometimes,” he pauses for a second, eyes gleaming with something she can’t quite interpret. “But sometimes you can meet a really interesting person in just one night.” 

“I don’t doubt it.” Y/N clicks her nails against her Old Fashioned distractedly as Harry fixes her with that beautiful emerald gaze that makes her ears tingle. She cocks her head to the side knowingly, flashing him a soft smirk. “Sometimes, you just happen to meet that one in a million.”

“A lucky strike.” He adds, lifting his tequila an inch off the counter and tilting it towards her in what appears to be a toast, irises dancing with a certain type of suggestive mischief. “To meeting interesting people.”

The human girl clinks the rim of her lowball to the edge of his cup, shrugging her brows and reciting his comment back to him. “To meeting interesting people.” 

Y/N measures how the rest of their interaction goes by how quickly her drink shrinks. 

When she reaches down to the first ice cube stacked on top, Harry has managed to coax multiple rounds of laughter out of her, his humor startlingly similar to her’s in the most refreshing way imaginable. She quickly learns that despite his broad shoulders, lean torso, dark inking, and flawless features, he’s a complete and total dork. His personality consists mainly of voice impersonations and contorting his expression into an endless array of silly faces, which she takes to easily.

By the time Y/N’s amber drink has reached halfway down its container, the default touch barrier between the two has broken completely. There had been a few caresses prior, but now it’s more frequent, more noticeable, and each touch extends in time. She had been the one to initiate getting physical, which had sat so right in her stomach because that meant he was respectful and patient— definitely unlike most men in clubs. 

The mortal girl had gently shoved Harry’s chest when he’d made an nonchalant joke about how losing his swim trunks at a nude beach had been both the best and worst experience of his life, her cheeks boiling as she had felt nothing but more toned muscle beneath the cotton fabric of his top. She had gone back to tracing at his tattoos the further they got into sharing anecdotes and opinions, glancing up at him for permission in the middle of their exchange and smiling to herself when he’d nodded casually without a second thought. As the conversations continue, they both unintentionally get closer in distance to the point where the arm Harry had settled on the bar is now fully wrapped around the small of her back. She willingly leans into him, their knees and thighs brushing with every shift of their bodies and those minute moments begin to pile up their excitement.

By the time the alcohol in her possession bottoms out, she is nearly sitting in his lap, faces only a few inches apart. Y/N can’t recall half of what she had said, the subject having steered into so many different places that she couldn’t be bothered to keep track. Besides, she’s too focused on trying to keep a straight face as Harry plays footsie with her below the counter, his light yellow sneaker toying with her heeled velvet wedge. 

An important question on his behalf snaps Y/N out of her flirty stupor.

“So how do you like your new home?”

She blinks at him slowly, partially to try and give a seductive tinge to the interaction and partially because the liquor has started to truly settle in. It takes her a few heartbeats to process the inquiry. “I love it, actually. It’s a place of my own, for the first time ever. I couldn’t be happier.”

The corners of Harry’s swollen lips tick in genuine happiness on her behalf. “That sounds amazing. Congratulations on such a big step.” 

“Thank you! What about yourself? Renting anything neat?”

“Oh, I own a condo here.” He mentions casually, outlining the criss-cross pattern along the circumference of his highball glass. “I used to visit so often that I finally just decided to pull the trigger on one.”

“Look at you, investing in real estate.” She says in a teasing voice, her heel grazing around his calf slowly, cheeks sizzling as he parts his legs a bit to allow her the pleasure of traveling higher up.

“Mmhm.” Harry licks his red lips, free hand starting to trace over her own. The tips of his fingers are calloused and cold, the motion of them over her skin almost pulling a tremble out of her body. She does her best to restrain it, not wanting to give him the satisfaction. “Is it nice?” 

“Hm?”

His lips twitch in endearment at how he’s managing to make her lose her train of thought. “Your apartment, darling.”

She rests the rim of her drink on the bottom of her lip as she speaks. “It’s nothing huge or fancy, but it’s a decent size and l can call it home. Can’t get much better than that.”

Y/N loves how Harry's eyes flit to her lips for what she thinks is the billionth time tonight, his vision sketching along the curve of her cupid’s bow and dotting every peak.

Another warm glow of confidence spikes through her veins and she’s talking before she can analyze her thoughts. “Well, at least I think it can’t get much better than that. Although, I could just be biased. Could probably use an outside opinion.” 

It takes Harry a moment to register what she’s suggesting, a light blush creeping up the base of his neck as he realizes how he’s stopped so abruptly. Humans usually never get him this unnerved and it’s one of many times she’s made it happen. “An outside opinion?”

Y/N lists her head to the side. It sounds like he’s accepting the vague invitation, but she’s so anxious to mess this up that she’s second guessing herself with every passing second. However, with every touch, she wants Harry more and more, and that’s enough to propel her towards a more direct approach. “Mmhm. Like yours, maybe. Would you like to come back and see it?”

Harry pauses for a few of her heartbeats, and then bobs his head in acceptance. She can breath again. 

He finishes off the last inch or so of his tequila, a wicked grin creeping its way across his pretty, flushed mouth, long fingers carding into his loosely arranged curls. “I’m more than happy to be of service.”

A smile works its way onto Y/N’s own face at his response, her foot dropping back down his leg slowly. “I’m glad to hear.”

“Mm.” Harry takes her hand completely now and she almost moans at how much bigger his are, his rings pinching a bit, skin rough in some areas, but silky smooth in others. And strangely icy, but she enjoys it. “Shall we say goodbye to your friends first? I wouldn’t want them to worry about you.”

He knows her “friends” couldn’t care less, but he wants to be as much of a gentleman as possible. Romanticize, romanticize, romanticize.

Y/N snorts, knowing full well that they’d probably purposefully embarrass her in front of him as a joke. 

She squeezes his grasp lightly, giving him a soft smile. “You’re sweet, but it’s fine. They were actually behind you earlier, encouraging this whole thing, so I’m pretty sure they won’t mind.” 

Harry hums deep in the back of his throat and the sound melts into a cute chuckle. “I’m glad they helped, then. Think you can deliver them my thanks some other time?”

The young woman chews on the inside of her cheek at his comment, realizing that it suggests he aims on keeping her occupied for the rest of the night and well into the morning. She has to will herself not to lurch forward and kiss at his annoyingly perfect lips right then and there. “I’ll make sure to pass the message along.” 

With one last cocky simper, Harry helps her down from the stool and pays off their tab, offering her his jacket since most of her outfit is made of flimsy fabrics. Y/N takes it appreciatively, lashes fluttering when his scent envelopes her like a blanket. It’s the unique smokiness from his cologne, mixed with a slightly sweeter smell that she assumes is his shampoo, and a bit of something that reminds her of a vanilla candle. The aromas are sewn into every thread of his coat and she can’t wait to have those scents glued all over her more deliberately later tonight.  

Harry turns and plunges them into the throng of partiers, weeding through bodies with a type of determination that makes her insides twist. His arm comes up in front of him as he plows people out of the way with absolutely no regret, leaving her to throw out a few half-assed apologies in his wake. The idea that he’s excited to be alone with her has Y/N’s insides churning. 

Once they escape all of the grinding limbs and tight spaces, stumbling into the cool air of the starry night, she takes a huge gulp of air. She prays it will tide over the jitters running along the inside of her tummy. She has just now realized how riled up he’d gotten her and it’s all coming to a raging boil. 

Harry paces past the bouncer, throwing up two fingers in parting. “Later, Brock.” 

The security guard gives the young vampire a confused look, not recognizing him at all and wondering how he knows his name. 

Y/N repeats Harry’s phrase for the hell of it, squeezing his hand jestingly and he glimpses over his shoulder, grinning at her with sheer amusement and something much deeper swirling around the specks of copper in his irises. If there was a bit more light, perhaps she would have noticed the way his irises had glinted blood red instead of olive green.

She ogles at the way his back muscles shift and flex below his pastel blue shirt, her mind vaguely taking note of the light yellow detailings along the cuffs and collar. The tee is intriguing and fun and she hopes he’ll let her sleep in it after they’re done. 

She also gets distracted by the baby curls decorating the nape of his neck. She’s itching to tug at them and see what his response would be. Would he shiver in her grasp and let out a soft moan, or would he smirk darkly and tell her to go harder?

Harry suddenly halts, snapping her out of her thoughts as he presents his car. Y/N’s jaw nearly falls off. “This is yours?!”

She gawks at the vintage jet black convertible before her, feeling like she isn’t worthy of its chic presence. It looks new, shining in the street lamps like a thousand diamonds, not a scratch or dent in sight. 

Harry unlocks the passenger’s door, opening it and guiding her inside with a gentle pull at their clasped hands, shrugging his brows playfully. “Hope it’s not too shabby for your liking.”  

“Are you kidding?” The human mumbles in awe as she ducks down into the patented leather seat, running her free hand over the elegant cover. She sighs softly at the way his smell is lingering inside the vehicle, just as much as it sticks to his clothes. “I feel like I should bow to it or something.”

He laughs fully now, leaning down to get a view of her sitting prim and proper in his favorite car, looking gorgeous in her flowy silk pants, lace creme blouse, and his own clothes. He gnaws at his bottom lip to withhold a needy groan. “I think you fit right in.” 

Y/N feels warmth erupt into her face and she tucks a strand of hair behind her ear, trying to distract her fingers from shaking. “Looks like I’m not the only one that’s good at stroking egos.”

“S’hardly a task. You make it easy, doll.” 

It’s the second pet name he’s called her tonight— it’s strangely vintage, same as his car— and she can’t wait to hear what others he has in store. Preferably in the form of breathy pants and broken whines.

Y/N flicks her gaze up at him through heavy lashes, attempting to stifle a sheepish smile. “Quite the charmer.”

A moment of silence suspends in the air, a light breeze filtering through Harry’s curls, swaying the jewelry around his neck as well as the earring hanging from his lobe. Harry speaks up with a type of hushed desire she hadn’t heard from him yet. “Can I kiss you?”

She blinks up at him once in mild surprise and then releases a sigh of utter relief. “Fuck, I thought you’d never ask.” 

Her hand reaches upwards outside the confines of the car, knitting into the thick fabric of his shirt and yanking him down. The second their mouths meet, it sets off a dozen fireworks in the pit of her stomach. His is softer than she had imagined, wet and warm, and his tongue carries the sourness of the tequila he’d been swishing the whole night. 

Harry’s breath hitches in his throat, and then a quiet whimpery moan streams down his tongue onto her itchy skin. “Christ, that was hot.”

As much as she loves the taste of him— the tartness of the alcohol mixed with an inherent sweetness his lips carry— she forces herself to pull away, but keeps her sweaty forehead pressed to his. “Yeah. It was.”

With one hand still gripping the car door, Harry uses his other to cup her chin lightly, guiding her into another kiss. Now that they have both developed a feel for the other, this one is less tentative than the last. She tastes so fucking good on his tongue, like strawberry syrup—probably from her lipgloss— orange bitters, and bourbon. He just has to have more of it.

A helpless gasp escapes Y/N when Harry's teeth graze against her upper lip, only nipping enough that she craves more. More of anything he has to offer. 

He pulls away and the whine that plucks her vocal chords feeds his eternal soul like nothing else has in a while.  

The young man grins at her for a moment, half in smug satisfaction, half red-faced and desperate, before carefully closing the car door and making his way to the driver’s side. He slides in with ease, shuts his own door and buckles up with a click of the belt. The simple action has never looked so attractive before, but she’s certain that anything Harry does with his ring-covered hands would be attractive.  

He fishes his keys from his front pocket, asking her where she lives in order to try and orient himself. As it turns out, she’s not too far away from his own flat. He knows exactly which condominium she’s referring to without having to even search it up— a perk of living here for a few decades.

He also chuckles to himself a bit at the fact that she hadn’t mentioned he shouldn’t drive under the influence. Vampires have an extremely high tolerance due to their self-healing properties, so the drinks he’d had only gave him a soft, warm buzz. He just finds it comical— and slightly arousing— that she’s so eager to get at him that she’d let that detail slip her mind.

Harry starts the car, but doesnt pull out of the parking spot. Instead, he glances at Y/N as a crease appears in his beautifully sculpted brows. The idea of something displeasing him bothers her, and she’s about to ask what it is when he murmurs a quick, “Just a second, dove.” He reaches across to grab her seatbelt, pulling it over her body and securing it into place on her behalf, making sure it’s nice and proper before leaning back in his seat. He doesn’t know why he cared to do it, but he had. 

The simple action leaves another layer of heat on Y/N’s cheeks. Having him bent over her like that was just a teaser of what was going to unfold later and it already has her mind spinning. She can only imagine how much of a mess he’s going to leave her when there’s no clothes restraining them.

“Thanks.” She whispers, playing with the tips of her fingers.

“No need to thank me. Just wanna keep that pretty face in one piece.” 

He plops one hand on the steering wheel as he shifts into reverse, carefully backing out of his spot. His arm ducks behind her seat, head turning and veins chiseling into his neck. It takes all of Y/N’s willpower not to lean up and begin to darken his tanned skin with hickeys. 

Harry cruises up to the exit of the club parking lot, waiting impatiently for the turn signal, digits tapping away at the leather below them. Y/N can see him throwing pained little glances at her from her peripheral vision, obviously restless to feel her skin sliding against his. Each look causes the warmth between her thighs to swell. 

She’s talking before she can stop herself, voice bashful and soft as ever, yet full of boldness from the liquor she’d consumed. “If you keep looking at me like that, I’m going to do something to you that’s gonna get us both killed.”

The tapping of his fingers halts and he cranes his head to face her fully, ignoring the flashing green arrow on the stoplight before them. 

Harry reaches over the center console, his nose dragging up the length of her cheekbone, causing her to squeak out a tiny whimper at the feathery sensation. It’s the first time tonight he’s touched her so intimately. 

The sentence he grits out next makes her entire body visibly shutter, his breath hot against her ear, damp lips smearing over her jaw as his oath burns into her flesh.

“And if you say something like that to me again, I promise you I’ll pull this car over and make you eat every fucking word.” 

[tv14pluscartoons]

BIRDGIRL EPISODE 1: "PILOT" (April 4th, 2021)

Review edited for me by Glenn Rolón

This show contains discussion of parental neglect, non-graphic death and a hidden severed foot in a bag.

So, funny story, 21 years ago I was 5 years old watching the beginnings of Harvey Birdman, Attorney at Law. Was I too young for it? Absolutely. But also it was like, the least inappropriate thing on Adult Swim I actively watched all through its run until I was 12 years old, so it's held a special place in my heart ever since.

All of that is to say, having seen that show is kind of unnecessary to understanding this episode. Which I would hope, given this is a spinoff of a show that began 21 years ago, ended officially 14 years ago, and had its last one-off special 3 years ago.

Birdgirl starts us off with Judy Ken Sebben/Birdgirl finishing up her day job, ordering ramen takeout while venting through the call about how her passions are more with her other life as Birdgirl than with her normal life as Judy, which is the perfect set up for the ultimate point of the episode. It then rushes forward into Birdgirl's fast paced action and awkwardness-heavy night, showing how much more excited Judy feels to do that than her lawyer day job. Though it also shows how RECKLESS she is as Birdgirl.

Judy completely ignores the giant signs of her father's death, seemingly out of cluelessness to the audience as its presented.

But longtime watchers of Harvey Birdman will already know he's faked his death multiple times, a point that's brought up when Judy goes to work the next day and is called into the meeting for the CEO Replacement. In which its revealed that her father (who believes Birdgirl and Judy are different people) chose Birdgirl to be the CEO while giving Judy the majority stocks in the company, setting off the real point of the episode, and possibly series: Judy's entire mental disconnect with herself. She feels distraught that her father saw Birdgirl as CEO material and not her more personal, calmer self.

Because she can't bring herself to grieve over her father yet again after the previous times, she goes fully into denial spending more of her time as Birdgirl and neglecting her personal life.

Which brings the concern of the friend she makes with Meredith the Mindtaker, a green telepath played by Negin Farsad.

Meredith is very empathetic despite calling herself "bad at emotions", which might be a side effect of her powers. Speaking of, to make a mental note, I find it refreshing that her powers are treated very intentionally not-invasively as possible, only using them to give therapeutic advice to Judy or physically stopping her to get her to listen. The biggest "misuse" is just her joking to finish Judy's sentences, which while annoying, isn't the same as forcing her way deep into Judy's insecurities she won't admit to herself.

Birdgirl's humor is dry and not scored by music or heavy sounds, aside from the absurdity of Birdgirl's incompetence at fighting crime in denial of her father's death; which is still underplayed compared to other examples I've seen.

The character design feels fitting as a continuation to Harvey Birdman while just being pleasant to look at, while also animating probably better overall than the original or a show with a similar vibe and style like Archer.

I really like how Birdgirl's eyes go from superhero cartoon/comic book white to showing her eyes like a live action adaptation whenever she'll be speaking honestly from the heart while in the mask instead of in denial.

One thing that might become obvious the longer you watch the episode is that, unlike Harvey Birdman, Birdgirl seems like it's not allowed to use Hanna Barbera/MGM/Cartoon Network characters freely, which may explain the abscence of a few old key characters, not showing or mentioning Harvey Birdman, and the fact one of the board members is a cartoon dog that might've been Droopy had they been able to. I don't think this hinders the show at all, but it is noticeable considering the show it spun off from. Might be Warner wanting to keep some characters clean while they try to use them in kid appropriate material like Space Jam: A New Legacy.

Birdgirl is a very calm show, definitely meant for teenagers and older — With the exploration of Judy's personal, mental and emotional struggles brought on by her father's neglect of her when she wasn't being reckless as Birdgirl. However, everything else is very tame; there's fewer than 5 bleeped swears, fewer than 3 mentions of sex and despite there being a people eating machine in this episode, it shows no real gore unlike another show with the same TV-14 Rating.

Birdgirl is for adults not in the sense that it has content inappropriate for children, but in the sense that its story, which seems to be ongoing, deals with issues that are only really relatable to people who are old enough. Despite human waste (heh) being a part of the episode, it doesn't ever feel "immature" in the way that poster child shows like Family Guy or Rick and Morty can feel, or even Tuca and Bertie, which is very mature with an important story, but goes for more crass jokes.

If you're a fan of stories with a woman-centric cast and dry humor, I'd recommend it to you. If you're more into the superhero stuff, I can't say I'd recommend it to you until more episodes have come out for a better gauge of where the show's boundaries will be.

Overall, Birdgirl is an enjoyable superhero empathy ride I hope to see more of and I'm glad I checked out.

[anntoldst0ries]

Everything else is just the weather

Book: Open Heart Pairing: Dr Ethan Ramsey x F!MC (Dr Noelle Valentine) Word Count: ~5.3k (I sinned!) Summary: Ethan takes Elle out on their “first” date. Category: Fluff Warnings: None

A/N: It has literally taken me ages to finish this fic. To the point that I couldn’t look at it anymore, but here it is. I had it in mind for a really long time and now that OH is back, I feel like I’m ready to show it to the world. As always thank you for your support and I hope you like it!

This fic is part 2 of birthday present for my friend, part 1 is the fan art which you can see here. Once you read the fic, the fan art makes more sense :)

This is my submission for CFWC Silly Love Stories, Day 12: Date night.

Loud knocks resonated throughout the room. 

"Come in!"

"Good morning, Mrs. Peterson.”

“Good morning, Dr Valentine. I think you are the only doctor in this hospital with some sort of manners, everyone else just waltzes in here as if it was a damn barn!”

“Hospital or no hospital, everyone has their right to privacy.”

“Thank you, child. Once again, please call me Faye."

"Alright Faye, but only if you call me Elle.” She smiled sweetly, and the whole room seemed to be suddenly lit by a thousand suns.

“How are you feeling? Are the meds making a difference?"

"They are. I am ready to be discharged today.”

"Not so fast. I am not ready to say goodbye to you yet."

“Why would you possibly like to be lumbered with an old nuisance like me for even a second longer than necessary?”

Elle just laughed and shook her head. The ‘nuisance’, as the elderly lady so lovingly put it, was exactly what she loved about her job. She loved spending time with her patients, she loved their stories and their worldly wisdom. It made her sad to see how many of them thought they didn’t matter or considered themselves and their lives boring. To her, they were anything but. 

Many of Edenbrook’s staff members kept asking themselves: what is it about her? She was a great doctor, no two ways about it, and she was a genuinely nice person. But what was the source of power she had over people? If she woke up one day and decided to start a rebellion, patients would have most certainly followed her, even if it meant they’d be leaving the premises of the hospital with naked butts or trailing their IVs behind them. Doctors, nurses, administration, cleaners and security would follow shortly. She only had to say a word.

And how on Earth was she capable of turning Dr Ramsey, the grizzly bear of Edenbrook, into a benign teddy bear with as little as one look? It was beyond everyone’s apprehension.

Had they spent more time actually observing her, rather than gossiping in the corners, the answer would have unveiled in front of them within minutes.

It was very simple.

Noelle was truly curious about people. She genuinely liked them and was determined to get to know their story, for it helped her diagnose them faster and also satiated the young doctor’s hunger for knowledge.

Patients never felt like “curious cases” or “numbers” in her presence. They were… themselves - people with hopes, dreams, fears, pet peeves and odd habits. They were human. 

So little and yet so much.

Those never touched by serious illnesses often failed to understand that sickness strips you of your dignity and becomes your identity. Your true self becomes covered by this weird, annoying sticker that wouldn’t come off no matter how hard you tried to remove it. 

But this young woman, despite the nature of her profession, somehow managed to notice what was hiding beneath this misleading layer.

Had all these gossipers spoken to her patients, that’s exactly what they would have heard.

"What's happening today?" The older lady asked with a flick of curiosity in her wrinkle-haloed eyes.

"What do you mean, Faye?" The young doctor sounded genuinely baffled by the out-of-the-blue question.

"Well, I am no diagnostician, but I believe I am rather observant and you radiate with happiness. Something special is happening today, am I right?"

"Yeah, you are right." Elle blushed like a teenager caught in a lie. "My boyfriend is taking me on a surprise date today, but he won’t say a word about it, so I'm super excited to find out what he planned for us. He usually isn't one for romantic gestures, so the secrecy is killing me."

"Do you think he's gonna pop the big question?" Faye’s eyes lit up with excitement.

"No, we're not there...yet." Elle faked a smile, but a tone of doubt and sadness coloured her voice. They probably never will be, those things weren’t in the cards for Ethan, as he already stressed once.

But once was enough and she didn’t dare mention the subject again.

"Well, I'm pretty sure he's got some big guns in store, I would if I had a lady like you." - a male patient lying in the bed adjacent to Elle’s patient added smiling flirtatiously. 

"Jerry, you were supposed to focus on getting better, not stealing my girlfriend." They all jumped when a deep baritone echoed throughout the room, hitting present company like a wrecking ball. She must have left the door ajar or Ethan could penetrate the walls soundlessly, because no one heard him coming.

Exactly how long has he been standing there for and how much did he hear?

"Dr. Ramsey, flirting makes your blood flow faster. Isn't it the very definition of life itself?” Jerry’s tone was brisk and lively.

"Well, it definitely isn't the definition of recovery after a heart attack." Ethan used his authoritative doctor’s voice but knew this wasn't a battle he was going to win. Jerry had something he didn't: a couple more decades of life experience under his belt and even the best medical school in the country couldn’t compete with this.  

"Besides, Dr. Ramsey, I don't think that the beautiful Dr. Valentine here fancies old farts like me." 

"That's where you are wrong, Jerry, looks like this is exactly the type I fancy." The two women laughed, however Ethan was far from amused. "Dr. Ramsey is 10 years older than me."

"10 years? What is 10 years in these times? Nothing. When I was getting married 40 years ago, it was something. But today? Look at all them playboys with girls younger than my granddaughter. 10 years is actually a very healthy difference. Men are immature and slower with growing up emotionally. So I'd say you've caught up, Dr. Ramsey, and the two of you are emotional peers now.”

“Thank you for the fascinating lesson in human psychology, Jerry. To think I’ve wasted all this time and money on medical school and no one taught me this.”

“Dr. Ramsey, it’s because schools and useful knowledge are mutually exclusive.”

Elle and Faye were on the verge of bursting out in laughter, but managed to keep their composure and used the non-verbal communication of exchanging glances instead.

Once they made sure their patients had everything they need, Ethan and Elle wished them a good day and promised to stop by in 2 days, as the following day was their day off.

The moment the door closed behind them, Ethan crossed his arms on his chest.

"I lose you from my sight for one second and this happens. 5 more minutes with Jerry and I'd be single again."

"At least no one wants to poke your eyes out for being with me."

"And someone wants to poke yours?"

"Where do I start... nurses, who had a crush on you long before I even set foot in Edenbrook? Female interns? Anyone, who has a pair of functioning eyes and ever looked at you?"

She was adorable when she was doing this, her whole body overtaken by excitement and her hands waving. When she was talking about something really important to her she wasn't just conversing with her mouth, she was doing it with her whole body.

Suddenly, his pager painfully reminded Ethan that this was neither the place nor the time to lose himself in adoration.

"I need to go, I'm completely swamped today and I have my favourite cherry-on-top board meeting. In case I don't see you for the rest of your shift - I’ll pick you up at 7."

He was gone before she was able to form a response. Was it just her or was Dr Ramsey weirdly… nervous?

* * * * * * * *

At 7pm sharp, Ethan Ramsey curled his palm in a fist and gently knocked. The door opened in an instant, as if someone knew he'd been standing there for the past few minutes.

"Ethan! I mean Dr. Ramsey...please come in!" Sienna squeaked with nervous excitement as she let him in.

"Outside of Edenbrook Ethan is just fine, Sienna. If you don't mind me calling you by your first name, of course."

"Mm..mme? No, yes, I mean... Elle is on the balcony." She tried to hide her embarrassment and motioned towards the tall windows surrounding the living room. Some time ago, he would have been oddly proud to have such an intimidating effect on people - nowadays, more than anything, he was amused. Has he really changed so much?

The answer to his question was leaning against the railing, glass of wine in her hand. Gauzy, flowery dress enveloped her frame and tanned skin. 

For Ethan, it was as clear as crystal: summer had the face and scent of Noelle Valentine.

Long before she started leaving her toothbrush in his apartment and sleeping in his old JH t-shirts, Ethan noticed that whenever he laid eyes on her, his whole body started acting in a very irrational way. His doctor’s instincts prompted him to think of all types of biological causes and chemical reactions in the brain. Then, when he sort of admitted to himself it’s not just pure science, Ethan leaned towards the forbidden fruit theory - the more he couldn’t have his drug, the more he was craving it.

But the feeling never disappeared. Whenever he wouldn’t see her for a while - be that an hour, a day, or just when she went to take a shower or make a coffee - the very moment her face came into his view again, he felt his stomach somersaulting.

Every. Single. Time.

It wasn’t any different now.

"Drinking without me?"

She almost dropped the glass when his voice stopped the train of thought in her head. But then she saw his face, the way too seldom relaxed muscles and a barely-there smile.

A perfectly tailored shirt clung to his torso marvellously. If not in medicine, he surely would have made a name for himself in the fashion industry. Fortunately for her, the idea never crossed his mind. 

The warm wind blew in her face, carrying the scent of expensive cologne which overwhelmed her nostrils. She didn’t know this one, so it must have been new. But she did know that smelling it for the whole evening while staring at his handsome face will be a pure torture.

Simply put, she was a goner.

"I don't know why, but I was quite nervous. Had to summon the courage somehow.”

“As you should be. After all, it's not every day that one goes on their first date."

She looked at him as if she’d just been told that a UFO landed on the roof.

“On a what?”

"Well, I was thinking a lot lately about how we never had a first date. Nothing was ever...typical with us. I promised myself I will do my best to fix things that caused you pain or deprived you of the things you deserved. Maybe I cannot fix some immediately, but this one I can, so I will."

Her eyes, overbrimming with affection struck him like thousand lightnings. Thank god a comfortable silence fell between them - had she asked him a question, it would have been clear that right now he is nothing but a simpering moron.

With this in mind, he took his hands from behind his back, holding a small bouquet of pink gerberas.

"These are my favourites." Her face instantly illuminated at the well known sight and smell. "How did you know?”

"I had some amazing helpers."

Elle instantly turned her head left and looked inside, where grinning, Sienna was showing her the thumbs up.

"Wow, now I actually wish I'd downed the whole bottle."

"I'm glad you didn't. I want to go on a date with a woman, not her lifeless body, even though the body itself is very appealing. Shall we?”

“King of compliments…”

* * * * * * * *

"You actually look like you are having a good time, Dr Ramsey.”

"Why wouldn't I? There is alcohol, sitting under the sky definitely has its charm and the company is acceptable." She playfully swatted his arm, the gesture a quick reminder of how comfortable they felt with each other, something he constantly remembered to never take for granted.

“Although I love this, I still don’t understand why you dragged me all the way outside Boston, I’m pretty sure the rooftop bars are pretty acceptable there, too. A bit more crowded though, that’s for sure.”

“Are you complaining about the fact that we have this entire place to ourselves? I know the owner and he was indebted to me.”

“Of course he was.” Looks like the whole town is indebted to Ethan freakin’ Ramsey.

“With regards to why I brought you here… you’ll just have to wait and see.”

Gosh. She couldn’t decide whether the mysterious side of Ethan Ramsey was hot as hell or annoying as hell. But she didn’t really have time to contemplate, because her companion asked her a question.

“Why did you become a doctor?” The ocean eyes pierced her to the core and she had a feeling that even if she was the best actress in the world, there was no way she’d be able to hide something from this man.

“That’s a terrible change of subject. Also, I must have told you like a million times already.”

“No, you never told me.”

When she looked at him and really, really thought about it… she suddenly realised Ethan was right. Elle told the story so many times she sort of… assumed she told Ethan, too. 

“Are you sure you want to hear it today? It’s a pretty sad story, a mood killer I’d say.”

“It’s what makes you you, so yes, I want to hear all about it - the good, the bad and the indifferent.”

“I’ll tell you, but I need to ask something first. Why now? We’ve known each other for a while and you just… I just sort of assumed this isn’t the type of conversation you’d like to hold.”

“You’ve hit the nail on the head.” Ethan’s expression was gentle, not a hint of irony in his voice. “I’ve known you for a while now, but there are still so many things about you that I don’t know. At first, I didn’t want to ask, because asking these questions meant admitting that there is something more between us. What a fail would that be, after I’ve mastered the art of denial.” He laughed, but it wasn’t a bitter or a nervous laugh, it was a genuine banter between them, as the British half of her soul liked to call it. “But you made me want to dig deeper.”

Was it the heat that made her catch her breath, or did it have nothing to do with the temperature?

“Plus, this is sort of what first dates are for, right? I’m sorry for skipping right to the more complex questions. It’s not that I don’t want to know what you were afraid of as a child, I want to know all the details… but it feels like the atmosphere calls for something…bigger.”

So she told him all about her friend, how she fell ill, how she couldn’t be saved and how the experience wreaked havoc on her whole life, tears glistening in her eyes at the mere memory of the events that shaped who she was today.

Ethan listened, his whole body tense and eyes transfixed. She was giving him one of the most fragile parts of her and he had to make sure his hands were there to catch, carry and care for this treasure.

“And that’s when I realised that if I focused on becoming the best doctor I could be, then maybe one day, I’d be that person who has an answer, who can solve a mystery and save a relationship that means the world to someone. Sometimes, people don’t realise that when a person dies, it’s not only them that’s gone. The part of someone who stays, who has to deal with the whole ‘me after you’ - that part is gone, too. So for me, in a way, this meant saving more than one life.”

For a couple of seconds he didn’t move. Then, without saying a single word and with an unreadable expression he got up and offered her a hand, which she silently accepted. He led her to the railing, where the sun was slowly sinking into the boundless waters of Quincy Bay.

His lips found the all too well known way to her forehead, placing a loving kiss on her delicate skin.

“I am so proud of you.” There was something so mesmerising in his whisper, sending a shiver down her spine.

“As a mentor or as a boyfriend?”

“Both. I want you to know that your dedication to people who rely on you is astounding and hardly present in doctors your age. Or any age, for that matter.”

“Wow, Dr Ramsey, smooth. Trying to hit on me with a recycled pick-up line used on a national TV? No wonder you didn’t have too many girlfriends.”

“No, I didn’t. But I believe everyone has a limit of luck they can get per life. And looking at you, I got a couple of lifetimes worth of luck.”

This was enough to render her speechless. She smiled and at this very moment he knew he would do anything to make her smile like this. She wrapped him around her pinky finger and suddenly his whole existence revolved around finding ways of seeing her curve these breathtaking lips as often as possible and making sure he is the reason she smiles… not crying her eyes out.

Although the other didn’t know, because none of them said it out loud, they both thought the same thing.

This feels so right. 

There isn’t a hint of awkwardness in the fact that they can go from being serious or emotionally vulnerable to funny and teasing in seconds.

In one effortless movement, Ethan spun her and pressed her back against his chest.  Then, he started placing a series of tender kisses along her jawline and the crook of her neck, slowly moving towards her shoulder. 

Come on, just say it Ramsey. It doesn’t get any better than this.

He wrapped her palm in his and pointed them towards the sky. 

“There they are - the Little Dipper and the Big Dipper.” Their intertwined fingers were jumping from one tiny flashing point to the other, as if they were playing connect the dots. “And that’s Orion’s Belt.”

“I really don’t get why at this point I’m still surprised that you’re good at everything.”

Elle was drunk on his every word, as this annoying trait of Ethan Ramsey being the know-it-all was actually one of her favourite things about him. 

As for Ethan, he couldn’t help but think that life wasn’t perfect and was never going to be. But this - this moment - it was in fact perfect. Why take chances of ruining it, when so many things can go wrong?

What if she doesn't say it back?

What if she's just gonna laugh at him or tell him he had it all wrong.

What if he misinterpreted everything and she never thought about him this way?

He was terrified of being this exposed. The last person he loved so much left him without batting an eyelid and disappeared for 25 fucking years.

Maybe it was better to live in a perfect illusion than a reality in which there was even a 0.01% chance she doesn't love him back.

So they both drowned in the moment, drifted in the sea of rapture, lost in the illusion that it can all last forever.

It was her who broke the silence.

“I’m getting a bit cold, is it ok if we call it a night?”

“Right, of course.”

“Thank you for the first date, I loved it.”

Handing her his jacket (her favourite, the dark green leather one) Ethan was furious at himself. 

Maybe he was broken. Maybe he will remain broken forever. Maybe that’s the way it must be.

“Do you want to spend the night at mine?” The question slipped his tongue before he was able to fully reflect on it.

“At yours? Unless you have some secret place I don’t know about, just a quick reminder - I live there too.”

“Since this was our first date, I thought it was a gentlemanly thing to ask.”

“In that case… I am afraid I have the ‘after the 3rd date’ sleepover rule, Dr Ramsey.”

* * * * * * * *

The morning came all too soon and the hot, ruthless rays of the rising sun announced that Ethan is now way past his regular wake up and get up time. He barely slept, tossing and turning, replaying every second of the evening in his head.

His hand mindlessly reached for what he hoped to be the familiar curves and softness of the body he adored so much. 

But his palm hit the mattress with a loud thud. The bed was empty. 

The all-too-well known feeling of hopelessness slipped into the doctor's mind with ease. What did he expect? He was acting weird the previous day. First date, what a stupid idea. She must have realised something is wrong with him and finally left.

But before he was able to fully wallow in the mud of pity, the feeling was soon replaced by an old friend Ethan haven’t heard from for a long time.

Panic. 

Where was she? Is she ok? What if something happened to her and he was just sleeping like a log instead of being there to protect her. He couldn’t stand the thought of losing her… again. Something grabbed his chest in a tight grip and wouldn’t let go. 

Scenes flashed before his eyes, vivid and bright. Their hands touching through the glass wall. Her hand cupping his cheek through the layer of hazmat suit.

He got out of bed at the speed of sound and started running around the apartment, but she was nowhere to be seen. 

Suddenly, he noticed.

The balcony door was opened wide. 

Shit.

Heart in his mouth, Ethan crossed the distance between his kitchen island and the balcony door in the blink of an eye. 

Elle was just serving pancakes outside. The goddamn pancakes. The only thing he couldn’t cook. The one thing she kept teasing him about and he rolled his eyes every time she did.

God, he promised himself he will never learn how to make them, if it meant she would just tease him forever.

She was smiling as widely as ever, putting the sun and everything else in the world to shame. Ethan was still a bit shaken and his uneven breathing gave him away. Elle finally noticed his presence.

“Good morning, I was just about to—“

“I love you.”

“I love you too.”

They both froze. 

The tension in the silence that had just set in was so thick you could cut it with a knife.

But the silence didn’t last long. As one man, with eyes full of disbelief, they both murmured simultaneously:

“What did you just say?”

This time, he felt obliged to break the silence.

"I...I...I mean, I…" 

Damn it, get it together, idiot.

"I didn't mean to…”

Great, Ramsey, keep digging an even deeper hole for yourself, then crawl in and stay there forever.

"You didn't mean to say it?”

"Yes. No. I mean, damn it, I am making things worse, aren't I?”

She didn’t set him straight.

"The thing is, I wanted to say it yesterday. I had it all planned, I took you for a first date and I wanted to say it for the first time yesterday.”

"Why did it have to be yesterday?”

“Give me a minute.”

She just rolled her eyes, but Ethan didn’t have a chance to notice before disappearing inside. A few moments later he re-emerged, his face and torso covered by a neatly wrapped, rectangle-shaped object.

"What's this?"

"Something you should have unpacked yesterday, but then... life happened."

Elle sat down on cold tiles, her hands trembling with a mix of fear and excitement. And just like he did months ago, he took her hand in his, only this time he cupped his own cheek with her palm and placed the most tender kiss on the inside of her hand.

It was her favourite medicine, a remedy for all things wrong. 

He sat beside her and nodded at the mysterious package. With impatience growing inside of her, Elle has torn the paper up.

Inside was a dark blue, framed print - the colour of it an instant reminder of her favourite set of irises.

She studied everything with intent. A circle must have been representing the earth and the irregular dots and lines must have been the stars and constellations. 

"A map of the sky? That's beautiful, Ethan."

He knew immediately that although her delight was sincere, she had absolutely no clue what she was looking at and why she was looking at it.

“It's not just any map of the sky.” Ethan explained gently, hints of pride colouring his voice. “It's a map of the Boston sky from exactly a year ago. Well, a year and a day.” He smiled faintly, now a shade of sorrow in his enchanting voice.

Silence. Was she supposed to know what that meant?

“Aren’t you full of mysteries today? Ok, you need to throw me a lifebelt here. What's so special about the sky from a year and a day ago?”

“For the world? Probably not too much. For me? Everything.”

At this stage of their relationship, she knew a lot about Ethan’s behaviours, triggers, his body language. And not just a relationship as a couple, but also everything that came before Ethan became someone she was running through life with (the life of two doctors in one of the busiest and most prestigious hospitals was certainly not a walk in the park).

But it still fascinated her how his demeanour changed whenever the subject was serious, whenever he was talking about something that truly mattered to him. It was as if he’d stripped down of all the layers and let her look into his bare soul. These rare moments of vulnerable intimacy meant more to her than any night of passion they ever shared.

Her eyes turned to him in pledge, because as much as she wanted to, Dr Valentine still couldn’t fully comprehend the scene unraveling in front of her.

“Read the description below the map.”

Dear God, did she actually hear shyness in his voice?

She skimmed through the image again, and there it was, right at the bottom. Elle was so focused on trying to decipher the meaning of the image that she didn’t notice the words below. 

The words which explained everything.

I WILL NEVER FORGET THE DAY 

THAT MADE ME REALISE

YOU ARE THE SKY

EVERYTHING ELSE IS JUST THE WEATHER

Her emerald eyes brimmed with hot tears as the meaning dawned upon her. Words were very unnecessary, but now that he summoned the courage to speak, there was still a lot he wanted to put into words. He gently took the frame from her hands and leaned it securely against the wall.

Taking her palms into his, he placed delicate kisses on her knuckles, his lips tracing the shape of these two tiny hands, which held all of him. Everything he had, everything he was and was going to be, he placed in those two fragile palms, with an unspoken hope that they will hold him and catch him if he falls. 

“Look at me.” The words were pulsing with care and affection, even though his voice coloured them in serious and desperate shades.

“One year ago… and a day from today…” He smiled and she felt the warmth spilling inside of her. The power he had over her was beyond the limits of understanding. 

Little did she know that the object of her affection was lost in the same thought.

“I was standing exactly where we stand right now. It was dark and the view wasn’t that spectacular.” He freed one of his hands, but only to make contact with her cheek to caress it slowly. In this moment, he had to touch her any way that he could. With his hands. With his eyes. With his soul.

“But I always found comfort in staring at the sky. When I was at med school, I had countless moments of doubt, I wanted to quit more times than I can count. So I used to go to a secluded place at night and stare at the sky. It made me realise how, in one respect, I am just a grain of sand in the universe and how little my problems are. Funnily enough, this thought actually brought me a sense of comfort. If I am as little as I think I am, then what is the harm in being brave and taking chances? A wise man once said… There are some things that are worth any risk.” 

She giggled through the tears, the sweet sound soothing his shattered nerves.

“I was standing right here and I never felt more miserable in my life. And I couldn’t understand why, for God’s sake. I was thriving at work. I had everything figured out and planned. I was pushing you to be the best you could be and I watched you turn into someone who would one day be far greater than me. But you looked so sad, so… broken. You already know I can’t just gloss over you feeling down. The sadder you were, the more miserable I felt. One evening, I was having a glass of scotch and I remembered some tiny exchange we’ve had earlier in the day, literally a chit chat. No idea what it was about. But I remembered your smile and your laugh. Every tiniest move of your muscles, your eyes, how your hair set around your face. It made me happy. Even if it was just for 5 minutes, knowing that you are happy in that very moment filled my chest with lightness. That’s when I realised I want to be the person who makes you feel this way.”   

She blinked the first time in a while, as if she was afraid to make the tiniest movement, afraid it will all disappear and turn out to be a dream. Giant teardrops rolled down her angelic face, trailing the path of joy.

“Noelle Sky Valentine, I love you. I have loved you for a long time but I was too stubborn to let myself give in. And that, as you already know, will always be one of my biggest regrets.” 

“Ethan, I don’t… I’m so sorry, I just don’t know what to say.” Her voice was saturated with emotions.

“I’d be lying if I said this wasn’t the reaction I was hoping for.“ 

“I love you too, Ethan Jonah Ramsey. You are by far the most complicated and stubborn person I have ever met. You are… everything I never knew I looked for in another human being.”

Once he heard her say it back, he couldn't get enough of it and a lifetime didn't feel like enough to tell her he loves her, as many times as he wished to.

“But I do have to mention this, Dr Ramsey… from the first date to a love confession in less than 24 hours? I’m sorry, I think this is moving too fast.”

“I’ll show you too fast…but I’m afraid we need to get inside, I don’t want the whole world and its wife to see how I teach you a thing or two.”

Ethan scooped her in his arms and carried her inside, despite her mock protests. He smiled and corrected himself. 

He wanted for the whole world to see.

Because the whole world was right there. 

In his arms.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

If you’ve gotten this far, I need you to know you are absolutely amazing 💗

Tag 🏷 list: @jamespotterthefirst @romewritingshop @romereadingshop @genevievemd @starrystarrytrouble @terrm9 @mrs-ramsey @maurine07 @gryffindordaughterofathena @mercury84choices @lovingramsey @qrkowna @openheartfanfics @choicesficwriterscreations @lisha1valecha​ @oldminniemcg​ @iemcpbchoices​ @tsrookie​ @fayeswiftie​ @levinsdowneyy​ @brooks-eden​ @poudredevie​ @queencarb​ @caseyvalentineramsey​ @lucy-268​ @tenaciousdeputydreamfriend​ @alwaysmychoices-sideblog​ @whippedforethanfreakingramsey​ @schnitzelbutterfingers​ @the-pale-goddess​ @lem-20​ @wingedhairstylemusicweasel​ @liaromancewriter​ @ohchoices​ @archxxronrookie​

[9h4mn]

you, who | sf9

➞ sf9 as the type of guys you had a crush on

➞ fluff, pinning, slight! angst, unrequited love

➞ in filipino, they call it kilig and its basically like that butterfly in your stomach exploded which leaves you a flustered mess. what are some of the nine different types of guys that causes you to feel that way?

warnings: insecurity, mentions of divorce, mentions of kidnap attempt, ghosting

inseong:

the senior type

this type of crush is older by a year or two and has this sort of vibe. in school, he has this dazzling smile, kind personality, and an easy to approach demeanor

also known as this genius gentleman

you can see that he isn't like your previous crushes who were rude to you

he drinks respect women juice on the daily

at one point, he will most likely be the one who helped you in a problem regarding school

again he is easy to approach and conversations can flow so easily between the two of you

on inseong's graduating year, you had gained enough courage to try and confess to him

the plan was simple: approach him when he's free, bring him somewhere private, then confess your feelings

its simple — you thought it was simple — but things aren't that easy

of course he would end up liking her, the perfect girl and your classmate

she was beautiful, smart, kind, and tall

you can't even hate her when you want to

but you hope, even just once, that someone out there would choose you over her — its unfortunate that this someone isn't inseong

youngbin:

the brother's best friend type

this type of crush is someone your family has known for some time. he has also most likely saw you in your awkward phrase

don't worry the both of you have seen each other's awkward phrases

your brother always has youngbin over and if not then its your brother who is at youngbin's

they were two peas in a pod never to be separated

however, if your brother teases you too much youngbin is there to the rescue

something about how your brother shouldn't stress our sister

thats right, he had already sisterzoned you but despite that you still like him

your friends helped you in getting over him and all he had to do was smile for that wall to crumble

you were hopelessly in love with a guy who will never see you as a woman

when a few years have passed and you're already living in your college's dorm, you had received an invitation

what was it you ask? youngbin's wedding invitation and you were invited

even until the very end, he had always seen you as his little sister

jaeyoon:

the boy next door type

this type of crush is your neighbor from a much better family. of course your family is nice but they were almost like the picture perfect family

you and jaeyoon happened to be of the same age so when your parents found out they urged you to befriend him

you were lucky that jaeyoon was as sweet as he appeared to be because if he was wicked in the inside you would't have able to survive

staying over at each other's house and watching movies became your thing until jaeyoon's perfect family cracked

his father got swamped in heavy workload and what did his mother do? she cheated on him and got pregnant

his parents' fights were really terrible while they were processing the divorce

at times he would even sleep over at your house with his sister following him

in his time of need, you never once abandoned him

it didn't came as much as a surprise when you and jaeyoon began to date

time may choose to be cruel but when you have each other, everything will be ok

dawon:

the class clown type

this type of crush brings life inside the classroom. everyone laughs at his jokes, even teachers, and he is safe from many things because they just like him like that

you are probably the class president and what does it mean when dawon is your classmate? headaches

seriously though you're the one who gets embarrassed for him

through the years you have been the class president, dawon was always your classmate

it was expected that you'd be annoyed of his antics with how long you've been dealing with him

your relationship changed when he crossed the line and made you cry

since that day you met a new side to the class clown, a boy with a broken past and high expectations — that was the true dawon

hurting you was never his intention. he had also thought that you found things annoying

as he spends more time with you, many classmates begin to notice how that strict and stern president softened

during school festival, you had held his hands and confessed, all while the fireworks began

who would have thought that the class president and class clown would be a good pair?

zuho:

the unattainable type

this type of crush is always taken by your sister or best friend. it doesn't matter which one of the two, he will always date someone close to your heart

you had met him as that person's crush and as a good friend/sister you tried to find out more about this guy

approaching him, sharing conversations, and finding out his interests were your priority

so when you fell for him and find yourself unable to sleep at night due to thinking of him? you knew you were doomed

everything began for her so why were your feelings acting up?

seeing the obvious sparks, you had continued with your original plans and even began to play the role of the matchmaker

you see both zuho's and your friend/sister's struggle with expressing their feelings for each other

they were shy and reluctant, without you it would have been hard for them to strike a conversation without getting flustered

eventually they began to date

and what does it leave you?

the one who gave up on love for the sake of her other loved ones

rowoon:

the popular type

this type of crush is always receiving confessions but for some reason is still single. he is the epitome of a perfect guy sculpted by the gods

there is a high chance that he even has a fanclub of some sort going on

rowoon is that popular

so you liked him because he is popular? no, there is more to rowoon then just that

he is caring, he likes to nag, sometimes he boasts himself too much for your liking, he is almost like a mother too

why do you know all that? you are rowoon's shield against his fangirls

and it all began simply because he noticed how indifferent you were to him

at one point he had even proposed a fake dating idea

seokwoo, you naive fool. thats how shojou love stories begin

of course you declined and he knew how to respect that

your relationship stayed that way until you began to get a fanclub yourself

rowoon only knew the extent of his feelings through jealousy

it had reached a point where he had accidentally blurted out his feelings

well remember that fake dating ploy? there was no need when both your hearts were already beating for each other

taeyang:

the closed off type

this type of crush is like a loner. he isn't necessarily avoiding people and he's more on the shy side. his height and gaze just makes him look intimidating

you sat behind him in class and though it seems stupid since he was tall and could cover your entire body — it was the exact reason you liked sitting behind him

you could draw during class and not get your sketchbook confiscated because of him

the day had come when you would absentmindedly draw taeyang

at first you could defend it as you appreciating pretty things but when you had stopped to draw in class just to stare at taeyang during class? uh-oh

it worsened when you saw taeyang dance for the first time

imagine his surprise when that smol girl who sits behind him began to talk to him nonstop and even does her best to include him

people had began to talk but you weren't the type to get bothered

instead it was taeyang who got worried and even told you to stop talking to him

what did you do? you straight out confessed to him

if he wasn't going to notice all the signs you've given then its time to just blurt it out

you succeeded in flustering him but not at making him believe in your words

maybe one of these days yoo taeyang will understand your feelings but for now you could just settle with this — the silent boy all flustered because of you

hwiyoung:

the "i always see him" type

this type of crush is someone who doesn't go in the same school as you but somehow the both of you always cross paths

and no neither hwiyoung or you are intentionally following each other

you first crossed paths with him at the playground and you two merely walked past each other

then many more circumstances began to present itself and now you and hwiyoung can't help but make faces at each other when you locked eyes

yes, while technically strangers you can act like that with him

the first moment the both of you truly talk to each other was when someone tried to kidnap you

you would have fought back but it was nearly impossible with how sudden you were grabbed

hwiyoung then arrived for your rescue. he simply kicked that kidnapper and you were free

that night while you two were waiting for the police, you shared jokes and laughter as if you both knew each other for a long time

there were more moments of you and hwiyoung but alas it was just memories of your youth

years and years have passed but you could never forget the boy who made your heart race back in high school

you don't know what happened to him

he just stopped appearing one day and since then you haven't saw him again

it was as if he never existed and he was just your dream

chani:

the childhood friend type

this type of crush is someone you had known since you were young and you even grew up alongside him

for sure both your families shipped you

yeah its kinda weird how adults are rooting for a relationship between their barely 5 years old children

both of you were like the butt of the cooties joke, i know immature children at it again

also can see you two having those cute matching clothes when you were much younger

now sometime before high school the both of you got in a huge argument and it ended in bad terms

people who knew you two were shocked on how you became enemies

heated glares and rude remarks were thrown to each other at every moment possible

you don't know how it got to this point. it was a stupid argument and the fact it was enough to end years of friendship? just how little does chani think of you?

but of course this anger slowly turns into pain

you just want your best friend back

and luckily for you, he thought the same

it was a slow process for the both of you to mend things to the way it was before

the argument, though stupid, really caused a heavy rift

when you and chani had gotten close again, it was the first time spring became clear to you

you like your best friend — that was even the reason you argued with him

however, despite being aware of your feelings, you never made a move

maybe if you were braver back then you could have known that he had also liked you

©9h4mn | all contents belong to me. do not modify or repost.

[dessarious]

Guilt and Consequences

Okay, so this is just something that wouldn’t leave me alone. It has absolutely nothing to do with my other fics and may actually be a one shot. (We all know that’s not something I do but hey I can hope). Anyway, I’ve always hated the way Lila’s character was done. For so many reasons. The biggest issue I had was that there’s never any explanation for her personality. Sure, there is a small percentage of people that are straight up evil, but not many and it’s lazy writing to make a character, villain or otherwise, with absolutely no reason to be the way they are. If you’re not going to flesh out a character don’t make them a focal point period. Okay I’ll stop ranting now. This is in no way canon, nor is it meant to be.

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

AO3   Next

“You told her what?!” Adrien flinched as Lila yelled in his face but she didn’t care. This idiot had completely destroyed all her plans with no thought what so ever. How had things gotten so bad?

“It doesn’t do any good to put more pressure on the situation. I told Marinette that you’d come around once you got the attention you wanted, so she should just let it go. Take the high road.” She was dangerously close to punching him in his sanctimonious face. The only thing stopping her was that getting arrested for assault wasn’t something she wanted to experience right now. Not to mention she now had to try and fix this insanity.

“That is quite possibly the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard. Ignoring things may work with paparazzi but that is not how you should deal with anything else. More often than not ignoring a problem just makes it worse.

“I’ve been ignoring Chloe’s bad behavior for years and she’s getting better.” Lila felt like her head was going to explode. As good as Adrien was in science he apparently didn’t understand causal relationships. The boy was far too dense to survive in the real world.

“As I understand things, Chloe didn’t start improving until Marinette stood up to her and Ladybug called her out on her bad behavior. Your enabling simply allowed her to continue what she was doing without consequences. People don’t change without a reason Adrien. Most need a pretty enticing incentive to do anything out of the norm.” She couldn’t deal with this anymore. Lila knew that she wasn’t going to make him see the error in his thinking. Everyone thought of Adrien as a ray of sunshine but she’d seen first hand how hard he held onto ideas even when all the evidence pointed to the opposite conclusion. Instead she turned and walked away as he yelled justifications at her back. She knew he wouldn’t actually follow her because his ride should be there any second. He wouldn’t risk getting in trouble, no matter how much he wanted her to agree with him.

She didn’t even know where she was going at this point, just wandering randomly while she thought. Everything had gotten so out of hand. Nothing like this had ever happened to her before and she had absolutely no idea how to fix it, or even if it could be fixed. She didn’t think so. It’s like the perfect storm of stupid, incompetence, and compliance had coalesced into this mass of insanity that she couldn’t see a way out of. Why did everything have to be so complicated? She’d done the same thing dozens of times with the exact same result. Why did things have to turn out so differently this time?

Before she knew it Lila was standing in front of a building she had no wish to enter. She knew she had to, but honestly she would rather step into traffic. Still, if there was any hope of salvaging things this was where she had to start. She just hoped she’d be able to get out some sort of explanation before they threw her out. She took a deep breath before opening the door.

“Good morning! What can I do for you dear?” Lila hesitated. Surely Marinette had told her parents about what was going on, right?

“Madam, my name is Lila Rossi. I was hoping to talk to Marinette.” There was absolutely no recognition in the woman's eyes. What the hell kind of alternate reality was she in? From everything she could gather Marinette had a great relationship with her parents. Even if she had let Adrien talk her into staying quiet at school, why would she hide what was going on from them?

“Of course, and you can call me Sabine dear, no need to be so formal.” She followed as Sabine led her up the stairs at the back of the bakery and into a little apartment. Lila had lived in a lot of places, but not one of them had ever said home the way this tiny space did. “Marinette’s room is up there. I have to get back down to the bakery, just knock before you go in.” Lila could only stare at the woman’s retreating back in panic. There was no way Marinette wanted her of all people anywhere near her room. She’d expected Sabine to get her to come out here. She looked back at the trapdoor with no idea how to proceed.

Eventually she worked up the nerve to climb the stairs. A few minutes and many attempts later, she managed a timid knock. There was a muffled ‘come in’ and Lila almost had a heart attack. Now what? Against her better judgement she slowly opened the door and poked her head up. She saw Marinette hunched over her sewing machine, not paying any attention to who had entered. But what caught her attention was the bruise on Marinette’s cheek and a strip of gauze around her forehead. Lila’s anger from earlier reignited with a passion and before she knew it she was in the room standing directly behind the girl.

“How could you listen to that moron’s advice?” She winced the moment the words came out of her mouth. That was not how she wanted to start this. Marinette jumped and actually fell off the chair. Lila flinched back at the fear in the girls eyes when they registered who she was.

“Wh- What are you doing here?” Marinette’s eyes were darting every which way, looking for escape routes or something to defend herself with most likely. It hurt knowing that this was all her fault.

“I… I didn’t mean to scare you.” Then why did you yell at her dumbass? “I’m here because…” Why exactly was she here? She really should have planned this out, or at least had any idea of what she was going to say. “I’m here because I need to apologize to you, and I think you deserve an explanation for why I apparently destroyed your life.” Marinette’s eyes widened in shock and disbelief. Lila couldn’t blame her.

“You want to apologize to me?” The skeptical tone caused her to break eye contact. It was well deserved but Lila didn’t even know where to start. She was a selfish creature by nature so apologies didn’t come naturally, but this was something that needed to be done.

“Yes. I’m sorry for everything that’s happened to you because of me. I never thought…” She couldn’t continue. No apology and no explanation was good enough for what Marinette had gone through because of this mess. Lila didn’t even know everything because apparently the class had been bullying Marinette for over a month but they’d kept it from her because she was too ‘nice’ and wouldn’t have approved. How did you even begin to make up for something like that?

“You never thought what? That your plan to take away all my friends would affect me? That you making my school life a living hell would hurt me?” The girl sounded pissed and Lila couldn’t blame her but the tone sent her into her defensive mode anyway.

“I never thought anyone would believe the garbage coming out of my mouth!” Marinette blinked at her in confusion, all the fight suddenly gone.

“What?” Lila sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose. Where did she even start? None of this was going to make sense to Marinette. Honestly she wasn’t certain it made sense to her anymore either.

“I should probably start at the beginning.” Marinette motioned her to continue. “My mom is a diplomat, that wasn’t a lie. She’s something of a fixer. Basically when a situation has escalated too far they bring her in to smooth things over. Because of that she gets moved a lot more often than most. I think the longest we’ve lived in one place is about nine months.”

“And that makes it okay for you to lie and bully people for no reason?” Bully? She hadn’t considered that before. From Marinette’s perspective she understood why she said it though. Especially after the bathroom incident. Lila winced.

“I didn’t mean to… The lying has a purpose but I’ve never had to escalate things before. It’s not an excuse, I should have considered things better. I just…” She just what? She’d just been so focused on her goal that she hadn’t bothered to look at the collateral damage. Hadn’t even considered that there would be. “Look just let me explain, then you can yell at me.” If she didn’t get this out now she wasn’t sure she’d be able to.

“Fine.” Lila shifted nervously as Marinette’s full attention was focused on listening to her. Having that much animosity directed at her was extremely uncomfortable.

“So when I was little the moves were more frequent. Because of that my mother hired tutors and enrolled me in online classes rather than try to attend school. There didn’t seem to be any point in having me adapt to a new place and teachers every couple of months. About three years ago things slowed down a little and she decided it would be good for me to socialize with other kids. Despite my best efforts, I was enrolled in school. I hated it.” That was a vast understatement. The curriculum wasn’t advanced enough and the kids were all immature and annoying. The teachers were boring too. Not to mention that she was used to learning at her own pace and having the ability to choose subjects that actually interested her. School was basically torture.

“I wasn’t happy and told my mother so but she thought I just needed time to adjust so she basically told me to suck it up and deal with it.” She’d had a perfectly researched and reasoned argument but her mother wouldn’t even listen to her. “A couple days later a boy was annoying me. He refused to leave me alone after I’d told him many times to stop and eventually I snapped and punched him in the nose.” It had felt really good at the time.

“Really?” Marinette sounded somewhere between horrified and amused and was obviously trying to keep a straight face.

“Really. I was sent to the principal and he called my mother. I was expelled because they had a zero tolerance policy for violence. My mother was not happy with me and lectured me about solving my problems in a different way, but she let me homeschool again because she wasn’t certain how long we’d be there and didn’t want to go through the effort of finding another school. I thought I’d won, until the next time we moved and she put me in school again.” Once again she’d argued to be allowed to stay with homeschooling. Once again her mother had ignored her.

“Let me guess, you just walked up and punched someone the first day?” Lila let out a snort of amusement and shook her head.

“No. Mother made it very clear that physical violence had far too many repercussions, so I had to get creative. I read the school rules trying to find the easiest way to get thrown out. I tried disrupting class constantly, but that just landed me in detention. So then I tried stealing. That got me thrown out quickly enough, but it also could have had legal ramifications that I didn’t understand at the time. My mother made it very clear to me after though.” Yet another fun conversation where her mother talked at her and wouldn’t let her get a word in edgewise. Lila couldn’t understand how she could be such a good diplomat and still have no idea how to listen to her own daughter.

“So you got to homeschool again?” She blinked at Marinette for a moment before nodding. She’d gotten lost in her own thoughts. “But I’m going to assume it didn’t last.”

“No. Every time we move she tries again. I don’t understand why she bothers. The next few schools I refined my technique. I found out that lying was the easiest and least complicated way to get thrown out quickly. They just don’t want to deal with it. Each school has slightly different thresholds but I found that obvious misinformation coupled with lying about medical conditions usually got me back home within a week. I thought I had it down to a science, until we moved here.”

“So wait… you’ve just been trying to get expelled this entire time?” Marinette was looking at her like she’d grown another head. Lila wasn’t surprised. To anyone else what she did sounded insane and maybe it was a little. But it worked and she was a very results driven person. “What about the Akumatizations?”

“What about them?” Lila couldn’t figure out what that had to do with anything.

“If you wanted to be found out, why were you so upset you became Volpina and Chameleon?” Lila winced. She’d watched the limited footage and remembered how she’d reacted after. She’d been disoriented and confused and had just lashed out.

“I was expecting Adrien to call me out. The necklace I showed him came from his father’s line after all. I misjudged how involved he was in the industry apparently. I wasn’t expecting or prepared for an actual Superhero to call me out. I’ll admit I reacted badly, but in my defense I didn’t know then how little it took for Hawkmoth to Akumatize someone.” That had been a less than pleasant realization. Maybe she should try and apologize to Ladybug after this as well. It wasn’t the hero’s fault that Lila couldn’t deal with normal social interaction and lashed out when she felt threatened.

“And Chameleon?” Lila winced at the soft question. She still didn’t know what she’d been thinking when she’d threatened Marinette. Well that wasn’t completely true but she didn’t realize how far she’d gone until she saw the Akuma.

“You were the only person who seemed to have a spine and didn’t believe the bullshit I came up with. I was trying to push you into reporting me to the teacher or convincing everyone else that I was lying. I’ve never been in a situation where people actually thought that my lies were real before. Looking back it was a stupid thing to do.” And wasn’t that an understatement. “After I left I realized how harsh I’d been and was coming back to make sure you were okay when the Akuma phased through the wall and straight into me. Apparently my being mad at myself for overreacting was enough to let him in, again.”

“Why keep lying though? You had to have realized it wasn’t working at some point so why keep doing it?” That was a really good question and she didn’t have a good answer. Lila ran a hand through her hair in frustration.

“At first I thought that I just needed bigger lies. I also expected the teacher or principal to call my mother and verify the ‘disabilities’ I said I had. Other than that I guess it was just habit. It’s what I’ve always done in that situation and I didn’t know what else to do if I’m being honest. Everyday I’d tell myself that today was when everyone would see through the bullshit. That’s also why I started lying about you.” Once again, in hindsight it was an extremely stupid move. Marinette looked confused.

“You’ve been lying to the class about me thinking it would make them realize what you were doing?” Yeah, it was a really stupid plan.

“Yes. I did my research. Everyone loved you. You were the class rep for crying out loud! I thought that lying about you would get them to at least think things through. I mean they’re supposed to be your friends. They’re supposed to know your character well enough to question it when someone says you’re doing something so completely off track from your normal. I didn’t expect them to believe me without question and I absolutely didn’t expect them to retaliate and hide it from me.”

Marinette’s head snapped up in shock. She was looking for something in Lila’s eyes but Lila wasn’t sure what it was. The girl's expression softened suddenly and before she knew it, Lila was on the receiving end of a crushing hug. What the hell?

“If you’re trying to suffocate me there are easier ways to do it.” The words just popped out and Lila winced again. So maybe her mom had a point about her needing more social interaction. It still didn’t mean she should be forced to endure school. She felt Marinette let out an amused huff and pulled back.

“So what brought on this need to come clean?” Lila’s eyes automatically went to Marinette’s injuries before snapping away to the wall.

“Alya slipped and told me what they did last night. I went to Adrien first since he knew Ladybug called me out to try and get him to make the others see sense, or at least help you protect yourself. That’s when he told me what he said to you.” She felt her anger resurfacing just thinking about that conversation.

“That’s what you meant.” Lila just blinked at Marinette in confusion. “When you first got here you yelled at me about taking a moron’s advice.” Lila winced at the reminder but nodded. “Apparently you’re not the only one prone to making mistakes and snap judgments.” Her tone was dry but still held a trace of amusement. Lila wasn’t certain what to make of it.

“I’ll text my mother and have her come here after work so I can explain what’s going on to her and your parents.” It was the least she could do. There was no way to fix this, but at least she could come clean.

“You can’t do that! What if one of them gets Akumatized over it?” Lila just frowned at Marinette. She couldn’t be serious. Her worried expression said otherwise.

“You can’t keep letting people hurt you because you’re scared how they’ll react. Hawkmoth is going to keep using people and that’s not your fault. It’s not your job to make everyone happy, especially not at the expense of your physical and mental well being. They need to know what’s going on so you can get out of that toxic school environment.” Marinette actually rolled her eyes.

“Just because you don’t like school doesn’t mean it’s a toxic environment.” Lila stared at her in shock. Marinette was serious. The phrase ‘what the hell’ was quickly becoming her new mantra.

“You’re kidding right? Your teacher avoids her job at all costs by making the class police itself. She blames the victims for things they have no control over because it’s easier than actually confronting someone. The principal hasn’t once tried to call my mother to verify absences or illness. That’s not even including your classmates who have gone full Lord of the Flies over a bunch of lies.” How could she possibly think any of this was okay? Marinette seemed confused as she mulled over Lila’s words. How long had this shit been going on?

“I suppose it may seem that way to someone walking into it, but I think your prejudice against school in general is part of your viewpoint. Things have always worked themselves out before and I’m sure everyone will come around eventually.” She was going to have an aneurysm. Apparently Marinette was just as bad as Adrien at holding on to things despite the evidence. She reached out and gently touched the gauze on Marinette’s forehead.

“They could have killed you. Alya especially is prone to acting without thinking things through or caring about the consequences. It’s why she posted all those ridiculous interviews. Honestly I’m surprised she hasn’t been sued yet. I took care of the site though.” She wasn’t even paying attention to the words coming out of her mouth, too focused on where Marinette’s blood was seeping through. This was all her fault.

“What do you mean you took care of the site?” Marinette’s tone was off but she couldn’t place the tone.

“Hacking is one of the things that I actually like doing. I took down everything with me and purged it from her harddrive. I also took down that stupid picture of Ladybug and Chat kissing after Oblivio. It’s not much but it’s as much of an apology I could manage to Ladybug even if she never knows who did it.” Alya had ranted for days about the Heroine’s denial. It was beyond annoying at the time.

“Why do you want to apologize to Ladybug?” Lila blinked at her before letting out a sigh.

“After my Akumatizations I said some things… let’s just say I wasn’t in a great headspace. I tend to go feral when I feel threatened. Add that to the whole lying and keeping in character to get expelled… She has enough to deal with without hormonal teenagers mouthing off at her.” Marinette was studying her again and Lila couldn’t read her expression at all. It made her more nervous than she would have thought.

“I still don’t think we should tell our parents. Maybe we can turn things around ourselves.” Damn it. The girl was out of her mind.

“That school is a breeding ground for bullies and narcissists. The administration needs to be held accountable for their neglect or who knows how many others could get hurt. There needs to be consequences or things will never change.” There was no way they could fix this themselves. She wasn’t even sure teams of lawyers and therapists could fix this at this point. Marinette was frowning again. Lila wanted to convince her this was the right thing, but if push came to shove she would tell the Dupain-Chengs the truth so they could do something about this. Her mother would just want to bury it to keep Lila out of trouble. Marinette’s parents would do what they had to to protect their daughter, at least she hoped they would.

“I don’t want anyone else getting hurt… Maybe we can talk to the principal. If we say we’re going to look into a lawsuit or call the police, maybe he’ll change.” Lila rolled her eyes.

“He won’t take anything seriously coming from two teenagers. Look, I realize your self preservation instincts aren’t very strong but you need to tell your parents what’s going on. If nothing else you can transfer schools. Honestly, you probably should.” She looked devastated at the thought and Lila’s guilt came back full force. She knew that she couldn’t control the actions of others, but if she hadn’t worked them up they never would have gone after Marinette of all people. They say ignorance is bliss for a reason. Marinette probably would have been perfectly happy not knowing what her classmates were capable of.

“I can’t just leave my friends.”

“What friends? The only person who has bothered to tell me to back off is Chloe. Something about you being more fun to square off with when you actually have a spine.” That girl was at least what she seemed. Lila could respect that far more than Adrien’s fake personality. In his defense she didn’t think he was doing it out of spite, he’d just been playing a part most of his life and probably had no idea who he was, let alone how to be himself.

“They didn’t mean it. I’m sure once they understand the situation they’ll calm down.” There had to be a way to get through to her, but Lila was getting far too frustrated to think things through properly. As usual, her mouth went into gear before her brain.

“If we tell them what’s going on now they’ll just transfer all that anger to me, assuming they don’t think you threatened me into backing up your story that is. Sadly, I have a feeling that it’ll be the second.” She would be fine with the first honestly. It would give her a reason to have her mother pull her out of school. Unfortunately given the class’s track record she couldn’t chance it. Alya could easily whip everyone else into a frenzy if she decided Marinette was forcing Lila to back her version of events. The girl hadn’t been able to find the truth yet so there was no reason to think she would come to her senses now.

“I suppose you’re right. I wouldn’t want them going after you.” She couldn’t have heard that right.

“What?”

“What you did was wrong but you don’t deserve to be bullied for it. I don’t want to be part of the reason that would happen.” Her supposed friends attacking her didn’t phase her at all, but the thought of those same friends bullying the person who’d set them on her in the first place caused her to pause. Lila would never understand that mindset.

“So can we at least talk to your parents about what’s happening? This has gone way past too far and I really don’t think we’ll be able to stop it by ourselves. Please.” Marinette finally nodded and Lila felt a tightness in her chest loosen. It wasn’t enough, but it was a start. 

AO3   Next

[itsclydebitches]

I adore talking about this with you, it's so cool to be able to agree, everything I've read is just excusing yen lmao.

And with "geralt would rather do and say things Yen wants to avoid pissing her off" LIKE YEAHH I guess I annoyed yen with my answers and she teleported Geralt out of the tower thing, and then threatened to do it again like??? Like he pissed her off so she has fuck all care about him, was over water thank god but like girl??? omg and her refusing to tell the wticher bros what she was planning on doing to Uma, like I get that they would be hesistent but I mean it's cause it's cruel and painful and they have that trauma around that. She just expects everyone to do what she asks when she asks no questions. (Lambert's "I'm not geralt" when he and Yen are kinda arguring, bb red flags)

I just assumed she didn't believe him cause if she did whats her excuse for behaving how she is lmao??? Like you believe he has amnesia and you still blame HIM over the person who maniplated him KAY.

And goodddd that fucking scene when Triss and Yen see Ciri in Kaer Morhen is genuinely the worst, Triss and Yen see their sis/daughter (not gonna get into how weird I find it that Triss considers Ciri her sister and Geralt is Ciris father and she still wants to fuck him, uncomfy) for the first time in forever, she's alive and well and while Triss is hugging Ciri, Yen kisses Geralt and Triss throws a glare at her. I hated that scene so damn much, it's stupid and shouldn't have been there. (aso I get emotions and all but Yen kissing Geralt is so bitchy, idk even full of gratitude and emotion I wouldn't kiss the man who just dumped me lol, especially not in front of a situation like Triss)

I'm still mad about the women, I really wanted to like them fuck meeee

YOU GOT TO THE PART. Oh thank god, anon, I've wanted to talk about this since we started these conversations lol

Okay, let's set the scene, shall we? You arrive to find that, with our playthroughs anyway, your ex has barged into your home. I say "barged in" because although we (Geralt) know that Yen's help is necessary and she'll be tagging along, the other witchers living there are given no prior warning and, according to Vesemir, Yen teleported in without so much as a "Hello." She then immediately starts ordering everyone around like her servants, failing to explain the situation beyond there being a curse that they have to help with. No, this isn't negotiable. She (still being an ex) takes your old room for herself, which just happens to be the biggest in the keep, and proceeds to toss a bed out the window. It's only later that Vesemir recalls that Triss used to use it, so prior to that everyone apparently just accepted that Yen was destroying their stuff for no understandable reason. Classic Yen. You go upstairs to find her cursing a blue streak at her failed experiment and when you try to lighten the mood, she snaps at you. If you're of the opinion that Yen's every order must be obeyed, this is when you're supposed to drop the conversation entirely, because she said to. Except, funnily enough, you'd like to know why she's up here being The Worst Guest Ever and destroying your property. She tries to justify this by saying that destroying a bed is better than how she could be dealing with her anger over Triss. Be grateful and all that. Except, it's not really about Triss, is it? The line is "You shagged my friend. For upwards of a year. I don't know what your witcher's code says on the matter, but ordinary folk would consider it obscene, base, vile." The blame is not on the woman who knowingly manipulated Geralt into having sex with her while he was vulnerable, it's on Geralt himself! He is the "obscene, base, vile" person for... daring to have amnesia? And when you point that out - "Yen... told you already. I lost my memory" - she yells that she's "lost [her] patience" and teleports you into a lake! This is, apparently, how she really wants to deal with her anger. Not by destroying beds, but by attacking you for things outside of your control. And I do consider it an attack. Yen is meant to be insanely powerful, she is leveraging her magic as a weapon here, particularly when Geralt has spent the whole game commenting on how much he hates portals. Yen knows this. Not just because he says so in her presence, but because she frequently reads his mind, something else he's expressed discomfort with. She's not just demonstrating her power (controlling) and sending him away when he makes a point she doesn't want to acknowledge (immature), she chooses the one thing she knows makes Geralt uncomfortable, perhaps even scared. Then when you've swum your way back to shore and returned to, despite all this, begin her list of chores, she makes a dry comment about how next time she just might drop you high enough for the fall to be fatal. With the next time implied to be, you know, the next time you disagree with her. The next time you dare to do anything other than agree with her every belief and jump at her every command.

The fandom interpretation of all this: "Lol Geralt getting yeeted is so funny. And their banter is just 😍"

Me:

You mentioned red flags and yeah like that ENTIRE SCENE is a crimson banner for me. I mean, by all means, love the fictional ships that are super messed up (I often do), but it astounds me how many fans honestly think this is just a cute interaction with absolutely no problems attached. Nothing to question here, folks. I've mentioned before, but last I discussed this in depth the asker wanted to know if I'd been an asshole to Yen and... that's it. That's the perspective. Any disagreement with her, any pushback, anything that's not complete, blind obedience is something she will not permit AND something most fans take as a given. If you're not doing what Yen tells you to, you're automatically the asshole, and if you're the asshole, you automatically deserve any punishment she chooses to dish out.

Comic spoilers coming up if you want to skip, but this is made abundantly clear in "Curse of Crows." Yen and Geralt are at their best in the moment below, enjoying one another's company on a nice day. Yen asks if Geralt wants to swim and he says nah, he'd rather watch her. She appears to like that idea and, indeed, swims naked while Geralt admires from the shore.

Actually cute right? I really liked this moment! They're cuddled up together and exchanging smiles. It's a rare moment of peace where I can believe that they truly care for one another, outside of passionate sex and not wanting the other dead. Finally, something beyond that incredibly low bar.

...except Yen starts flirting with a young man who shows up, invites him to travel with them, all while refusing to explain why she's interested in his company. The sudden third wheel is clearly bothering Geralt, but Yen continues to ignore his questioning. The answer she finally gives later that night?

She did it purely to mess with Geralt! It's his "just desserts" for "refusing to swim with [her]." She is "not one to be refused - I thought you needed reminding" by giving him "a flick on the nose." When I say that Yen treats Geralt like a dog I mean she literally treats him like a dog. He's a servant who must jump at her every command and if he doesn't, he'll punished for disobedience. He might not even know why he's being punished for a long stretch because Yen enjoys making him think she's a normal person capable of accepting that he doesn't feel like swimming right now - insert the Kaer Morhen scene where she wants to go have sex upstairs, but Geralt wants to catch up with the brothers he hasn't seen in an age here - only to reveal that actually she's made their formerly nice outing uncomfortable because he needs to be put in his place. All of which is followed by, "So... willing to join me now?" The message is very clear! Geralt had better get his ass in that tub unless he wants to be punished some more. Whether he wants a bath right now or not is inconsequential.

This is also the run where she scares the women Geralt was with, despite them being separated right now. Why? "I could."

Claims that Geralt is allowed to return to his companions (who he actually waves away) only for him to realize she's cast a spell to burn him with the water. Yen loves pretending she's okay with things only to punish Geralt for them later - sometimes with physical punishments. And what would have happened if the women had actually joined him again? Do witchers weather hot water better than the average courtesan? Who knows, but Yen clearly doesn't care who might get hurt.

Just like her time in Skellige and at Kaer Morhen, she refuses to explain what's going on. She just expects people to obey her, so-called loved ones included. Geralt was to get her cider, and arrive before her bath went cold, not question what they're doing on this dangerous hunt. He's a servant.

And my favorite, petty moment: transforming her awful inn food into a lavish meal without offering to do the same for either Geralt or Ciri.

"But, Clyde, that's just the comics. They're not really canon." Nah, questions of canon aside, this is 100% Yen's characterization. She's prideful. Immature. Beyond controlling. And punishes anyone who dares to tell her "No." Fans are always pointing out that she's meant to be horrible, she could have been a villain in another life, like any of that explains why I'm supposed to root for this relationship or enjoy her existence outside of being a complex character. Yen is interesting, but she's interesting in a "I can't wait to see her get her own just desserts" way. Not "Wooo now I get to watch this story ignore her behavior again to push a True Love narrative."

She punished Geralt frequently during their first meeting, she punishes him whenever they get together, and, I think, she punished him during the reunion with Ciri. Given our playthroughs, do we really think that after breaking up with her and all this fury over Triss - an anger so deep she destroyed the bed and attacked Geralt - she's just overcome with such joy that she forgets they're not together anymore and forgets the anger she's been nurturing for years? Yen doesn't forget. She's staring at Ciri during that moment, right where Triss is currently running towards them, and then after a considering look at Geralt pulls him in for that kiss. That was calculated. She did that to make a claim she no longer had. To punish them both: make Triss uncomfortable by playing at the "perfect" family reunion; make Geralt uncomfortable by kissing him when she knows he doesn't feel the same way. But of course, the popular reading is that she just loves him so much she couldn't help herself. Riiight.

It's just all SO BAD. (Including, as you say, the ickiness of having Triss lusting after Geralt and referring to Ciri as "little sis.") I love a lot of the women in Witcher - Cerys is a fave, Ciri, Saskia, Philippa, Keira, etc. - but the two I'm supposedly meant to fall in love with are just the worst lol.

Basically:

Half the fandom: TEAM TRISS 🤬

The other half: TEAM YEN🤬

Me: TEAM REGIS 😭

[llilychen]

thoughts of chain of iron

my favorite scenes in the book were jordelia’s wedding and the townsend’s party (chapter five and six were so fun to read)

i really liked the beginning the book but i found the middle to be boring, the book picks up speed towards the end.

when i finished chog i hadn’t made up my mind about grace yet but now that i am done with coi i have decided that i don’t care too much about her? i’ve seen people say that they adore her and i don’t understand that sentiment. i could see why people would find her an interesting character though

there were too many descriptions in this book, the weather was mentioned almost every single page and it got old pretty quickly

i feel like nothing happened for the majority of the book? i dont like fight scenes that much but throughout the book there weren’t almost any? i was 400 pages into the book and so far there had only been one very boring fight scene against that demon that was in the factory

why was filomena hyped up so much? i swear cc made such a big deal about filomena and she didn’t even want to reveal her name and i thought she was going to be an important character, but she only was there for like 1.5 scenes and it was so disappointing

alastair was my favorite character in this book, i think that he grew a lot and i loved that he was held accountable for everything he did and i think that is what makes him an enjoyable character (when characters do dumb stuff and don’t face the consequences it is boring)

reading cordelia’s pov was so funny (and frustrating) because it was obvious that james was in love with her and she still made the most far fetched unreasonable excuses to convince herself otherwise

i am really sad that there wasn’t more thomastair in this book and i think it was very noble of alastair to not want thomas to have to choose between his friends and him, i am pretty sure that they will probably be together in by the end of cot unless something horrible happens, which i hope is not the case

i was really disappointing with matthew’s character. that scene in which he showed up to cordelia’s house, spied on alastair and cordelia after their dad died, insulted alastair in front of cordelia, and then just started talking about his own problems rubbed on me the wrong way and i hate how his alcoholism is being handled, but im also glad that he called james out on his bullshit? it obviously wasn’t james’ fault but it was nice to see him stand up for cordelia

i hated the love triangle, when i finished chog i didn’t really care who cordelia ended up with, and now that im done with coi i still don’t care too much about who she ends up with but i think that her ending up with james would make more sense and that is probably what will happen which means that the love triangle was a complete waste of time

i really wish that cordelia and matthew’s relationship had remained completely platonic especially because i don’t think cc has ever put focus on a relationship between a man and a woman that isn’t strictly romantic and it would have been nice to show that men and women can be only friends (and by this i mean that there was never any romantic drama between them, so clary and simon don’t count)

anna and ariadne will probably end up together despite the fact that ariadne deserves so much better than anna

anna’s behavior in this book was immature and it got old pretty quickly, the way ariadne was treated throughout the entirety of their relationship was horrible, and i don’t understand if we were meant to root for them? also the way anna treated ariadne reminded me of some of the things anna said in chog and i just want to say that calling the women you have slept with your conquests and writing their names in a list is gross, and disrespectful towards women. coi made me dislike anna unfortunately

matthew insulting alastair every time cordelia was around got old and rubbed one me the wrong way because matthew is supposedly in love with cordelia and he knows that cordelia adores alastair and the least he could is just shut up?? about alastair?? just for cordelia’s sake

i think effie was the best part of the book

i thought that jesse’s resurrection would be take up more page time because i’m pretty sure that cc hinted that jesse would play a larger role in coi than in chog (and in a way she wasn’t lying)

i think that lucie’s marks will probably be stripped or she will become an iron sister (i don’t see why cc would have included that iron sister comment if it won’t be relevant later)

im really disappointed with lucie and cordelia’s friendship, the barely talked, the had like two scenes together in a 650 page book, they just seem like people who sometimes talk to each other, their friendship is so dry

matthew telling alastair that if he didn’t talk to charles it meant that he was a bad person was manipulative and cruel. alastair, unlike matthew, is trying to become a better person and literally everybody saw it except him. i can’t believe cordelia didn’t say anything to him

the whole misunderstanding thing between james and cordelia is so dumb and i KNOW that it will take like 400/500 pages of cot for them to get together and it will be so annoying

that scene in which james confronted grace was very satisfying

cc needs to quit it with the incest, it’s disgusting and unnecessary, it looks like it will not actually go to that in cot (thank god) and therefore she just put it there because she’s gross

i KNEW jesse would come back to life by the end of the book and im so glad i was right because i am tired necromancy and we don’t have to spend another book talking about it!!

i dont know if this is an unpopular opinion but i hope lucie’s character takes a dark turn? i think she has so much potential and i think that maybe she was starting to become a darker character in coi but i couldn’t really tell because she didn’t have that much page time

i really want more christopher scenes, i know that he’s not exactly a main character but he was barely in the book and that made me sad :/

matthew saying that he would not drink in paris so that cordelia would come with him rubbed on me the wrong way because that’s not how it works, and i hope that cc doesn’t portray alcoholism as something that goes away because you’re in love with someone

i knew jesse and lucie would run away at some point, i just thought that it would be by the end of cot (pretty sure they will be found and then there will be trouble and maybe they’ll escape again or there will be more trouble)

my favorite scene in the entire book was when effie found james tied to the bed and requested a raise

when cordelia comes back there is going to be so much guilt because of lucie being missing and i am not here for it

3/5 stars

[shespeaksinsongs]

May I have a ship 🍄 for HP of golden trio era? Preferably male, thank you 💞

𝗕𝗔𝗦𝗜𝗖𝗦 + 𝗔𝗣𝗣𝗘𝗔𝗥𝗔𝗡𝗖𝗘

I'm 19, Southeast Asian with Spanish descent, Libra, ENFJ-A/ENFJ-T, Neutral Good, Ravenclaw, and a Bi Pan Genderfluid girl using the pronouns She/Her or He/Him. A friend of mine told me that I (kinda) look like Marinette from 𝗠𝗶𝗿𝗮𝗰𝘂𝗹𝗼𝘂𝘀 𝗟𝗮𝗱𝘆𝗯𝘂𝗴, Musa from 𝗪𝗶𝗻𝘅 𝗖𝗹𝘂𝗯, and Alexandra Trese from 𝗧𝗿𝗲𝘀𝗲 (a Netflix animated series), but the exception is I'm short (5'1.2") plus sized Southeast Asian woman with Spanish descent that has messy/wavy brunette medium hair, chocolate brown eyes, oriental skin and a small beauty mark on the forehead. My sense of fashion is in between emo and boyish plus korean glam.

𝗣𝗘𝗥𝗦𝗢𝗡𝗔𝗟𝗜𝗧𝗬

Distant, quiet, and shy at first cause' I dunno how to initiate a conversation, but a total opposite if I open up---friendly, ambivert, witty, laughing loudly on a daily basis, talkative, eats a lot, awkward, daydreamer (I got embarrassed from knocking at the door even I'm inside the classroom 😂), EXTREMELY CLUMSY (mostly tends to get bruises from bumping and being careless to my belongings), secretly likes affection, easily overwhelmed, prone to melt over wholesomeness, flusters on compliments, lightly blushes on cheesy banters, eager to share what I know (especially about Catholic Church---my past teacher joked that I'll become a saint because of it 🤣), oftenly speaks full of sarcasm with a lowkey crackhead energy citing meme references, and talented girl who can be your no.1 supporter and unashamed to be true to myself. In terms of leadership, I only educate and guide than being a prefect (I might take the role seriously), will lift my group when there's lacking/incompleteness. About doing projects in school, I become too extra and prepared for efforts, but I'll forget the process in the end.

People thought I'm a demure self-effacing woman that looks "immaculate" or "one of a kind," (due to my protective parents, a reason why I've never been in a relationship) but the truth is, I'm eloquent, warm-hearted, willig to help, kind, intelligent, supportive, nice, creative, enthusiastic, laid-back, determined, tough, competitive, and feisty outside, but a real softie that can be childish and dramatic that cries so easily (but will enlightened real quick by smallest things that makes me smile) filled with doubts, frustrations, and insecurities with fear of failure that pushes off the limits to to please everyone because they might get dissappointed from expectations, yet I still managed to be stronger than ever, even it's a slow burn process. I can be intimidating, sassy, and a douchebag if I receive ends. Immature, headstrong, perfectionist, demanding, hesitant, jumpy, very indecisive, overthinker, quick-tempered, sensitive, and anxious (no joke, my nervousness makes me think worse scenario will arrive). Though can be procrastinator and arrogant, I raised as a religious 𝖺𝗇𝖽 diplomatic person, willing to fight what I believe (including my dreams and what's important to me) and what is right. In addition, I have a habit of staying up late and doing sign of the cross to ease nervousness.

Blunt but the loudest idiotic feeling-brokenhearted and bitter friend in the group who fangirl a lot, swears like sailor, will call out on people that we loathe, will crack up over your stupid antics before helping, vent out everything I despise (having a bad day, toxicity, poorly written soap operas, how am unlucky when it comes to love life) and bring gossips, but a hopeless romantic who tends to banter with sarcasms or pick up lines as an endearment (but gets grumpy if I received sappy or offensive one), Still generous and concerned person in a subtle way.

𝗘𝗫𝗧𝗥𝗔 𝗜𝗡𝗙𝗢

My hobbies are singing, drawing, roleplaying, listening to music, chatting/browsing on social media, conceptualizing, writing, and reading some stuffs. I'll include making corniest jokes/puns, sleeping, and dancing when nobody's around or walking like a model if I feel so bold (even I'm terrible at both xD). I also used to learn Italian language a bit. Lastly, my best assets are smile, eyes, personality, singing voice, artistic skills, writings, intelligence, and oratorical skills...so I can consider myself as a singer, artist, orator, and a top student who's a former campus ministry member (choir member, psalm singer, and reader) and in coming college freshman. Currently learning how to cook and have so many interests, to the point I don't know what I'm into because of my dreams to become a popular Filipino YouTuber, a novelist, and being part of a successful chorale...I also consider joining pageants too once the pandemic ends, but maybe.

okay. this was a tough one, but i finally settled on fred and george. i think you'd be best with fred weasley by a CLOSE SECOND to george.

you mentioned that you're into banter and pick-up lines as endearment - and i think that is so fred weasley. george strikes me as the softer, sweeter, twin, who is more likely to be dominated, but i think you and fred having an equally dominant personality would make for an interesting relationship! additionally, the secretly likes affection thing would go smoothly with fred. i think fred is a more "quality time" and "acts of service" kind of guy, but affection is never rejected for him, and he quite enjoys it! the hobbies you mentioned seem like things he might love to do, or encourage you to do! it even gave me a good idea for a fic, which i think i will be releasing tomorrow if i can. will tag you, of course. head-strong, sassy, and being quick-tempered would keep fred on his toes, and i think that's one of his favorite things about you. he'd love that he's always on the edge with you. he doesn't know where he's going, but he doesn't mind. i think fred really likes someone who's not afraid to let themselves get out there, and you pursuing your dreams so fearlessly, along with your passions, makes for a pretty good match to me. besides that, i think fred would definitely try to dig beneath the surface, or the "demure" demeanor you give off. based on your description of yourself, i think he would find somebody worth being with.

he would definitely see you in the hallways and pretend not to know you sometimes, hitting on you as if you weren't already together. i think he most definitely thinks it's both cute and scary when you're angry, seeing as your height and personality clash (in a good way, dw). teases you for being clumsy, but he thinks it's cute. aside from the normal nicknames, he probably calls you "my pretty witch", or "my smart baby ravenclaw". he likes head pats, and uses you as an elbow rest to annoy you sometimes. i think he would also think you're stunning. like he would almost worship you and your entire body. gives you kisses on the beauty mark on your forehead a lot, especially if you're cuddling. he almost can't resist. loves your style and tries to copy it, but decides that it's reserved for you in his mind, so he goes back to his normal style, admiring all your different outfits. stays up late with you on nights you can't sleep or don't want to. starts cursing a lot after he met you. he gets into the habit, and every conversation with you is a swearing mess. gives you kisses on the cheeks randomly to see how off-guard he can catch you and see how flustered you get. LOVES when you blush. it's his favorite thing about you.

<3 thank you so much for your submission.

[tumbleweed-palmer]

Unexpected: Jimmy Palmer x Original Character

I am having to repost all my fics because tumblr terminated my old blog. So here we go spamming up the Jimmy Palmer tag.

=======

Jimmy Palmer could admit he’d never found himself too annoyed by Tony Dinozzo. In fact, Jimmy was usually capable of dealing with Tony’s less than mature behavior without becoming too frustrated or too flustered.

Jimmy had long ago learned to take Tony’s immature comments and his habit of being far too nosy about his coworker’s personal lives with good stride. He’d learned to brush off the comments and the jokes. To be honest, Jimmy had always been somewhat fond of Tony’s tendency to give him a hard time.

It felt more like the actions of an older brother pestering a younger sibling, than anyone with any ill intentions. Jimmy had no older siblings, only a younger sister. So, really it just felt like Tony was a big brother of sorts, giving Jimmy a hard time and harassing him because he cared. Jimmy knew the moniker of “Autopsy Gremlin” or the sarcastic comments and jokes weren’t meant to be cruel. He knew that deep down Tony didn’t mean any disrespect.

Lately though it was becoming harder and harder for Jimmy to brush off Tony’s comments and his bad habit of attempting to shove his nose where it didn’t belong.

Today had been particularly brutal, all thanks to an unfortunately noticeable dark bruise along Jimmy’s neck. Anyone with any social awareness would easily be able to deduce exactly just how Jimmy had gotten these marks along his neck. Most people would spot a bruise along someone’s neck and would know it meant one thing and one thing only.

Most people though wouldn’t have the audacity to mention it. Tony Dinozzo wasn’t most people.

Tony had been quite loud about pointing out the large hickey along Jimmy’s neck and he’d done it at a crime scene of all the places to possibly bring it up.

Jimmy’s cheeks had flushed a deep shade of scarlet as Tony had spotted the hickey unable to resist himself. “Jeez Palmer, what happened to you? Did you use a vacuum cleaner or did you manage to actually find a lady gremlin to do that for you? That thing is huge. I don’t know if I should be disgusted or impressed. I’m dying to know just where she learned to do that, because I’m assuming you didn’t teach her.”

Jimmy had resisted the urge to drown himself in the lake Dr. Mallard and he’d been retrieving a body from as he’d squeaked out an “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Though by the way Jimmy had pulled the collar of his jumpsuit up in a poor attempt to hide the lovebite along his neck, it had been quite obvious to everyone that Jimmy knew exactly what Tony was talking about.

Thankfully Tony had dropped the subject fast becoming distracted by Gibbs’ less than pleased expression, but the entire situation had still been so mortifying.

This wasn’t the first time anyone had spotted a little lovebite along Jimmy’s neck over the course of the past year, and it wasn’t the first time Tony had something to say about it. It was still none the less absolutely horrifying for Jimmy.

Each time Tony mentioned a lovebite along Jimmy’s neck, Jimmy died a little inside.

As the day had worn on so had Tony’s prodding and needless to say Jimmy was more than ready to get far far away from NCIS headquarters and he hoped and prayed he’d have the entire weekend to suppress the memory of any of this ever happening.

Jimmy had worked far too late for a Friday night and he was more than ready to get out of the building as Tony approached him at the elevator looking all too much like a shark that had spotted a pool of blood.

“In a rush to get home Palmer?”

Jimmy cleared his throat trying to pretend that he wasn’t frantically pushing the up button on the elevator as though that would make his only form of escape arrive any quicker. “It’s Friday.”

“Got big plans for the weekend? I’ve always been curious, just what does an Autopsy Gremlin do on the weekend? I’m almost afraid to ask.” Tony commented, working his way up to the main punchline.

Jimmy shrugged his shoulders trying to play it cool. “Just a quiet weekend, nothing exciting.”

“Nothing exciting huh? I hope whoever gave you that little lovebite on your neck isn’t disappointed to hear that you don’t think they were exciting. I’m a little worried about just what you consider exciting if you didn’t find the process of getting that thing to be thrilling.” Tony pointed out while watching Jimmy squirm.

Jimmy groaned at this trying his best to play dumb in hopes this conversation would die. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Uh huh.” Tony responded not shying away from giving Jimmy a pat on the back before he spoke again.

It’s nothing to be ashamed of Palmer, It’s only a little gross when I think about it. I’m actually kind of impressed. You did the impossible, you got a girl to do that for you and it’s not even the first time it’s happened. You can’t blame me for being curious. The Autopsy Gremlin is getting some sweet sweet loving and I have to know just what she looks like, it is a she right? If not, I don’t judge. I would just be surprised to find you swing that way, especially after the whole Agent Lee thing. Are you having an office romance again? I’m guessing not, since I haven’t noticed you getting any attention from any of the ladies at NCIS, which means that Lady Gremlin doesn’t work here.”

Jimmy let out a sigh of relief as the elevator doors finally swung open, Jimmy escaping into the safe confines of the elevator so relieved that Tony didn’t follow him.

He spoke frantically pushing the close door button. “I gotta go, have a good weekend Tony.”

Jimmy closed his eyes, a heavy sigh of relief leaving him as he was finally left alone safe from Tony until next week.

A little voice in the back of his head was all too quick to speak Oh, if Tony only knew.

Jimmy had never meant for it to be like this. He’d never been the best at lying. Or, at least people told him he was a bad liar.

Maybe he wasn’t such a bad liar though, after all he’d been living a lie at work for a year now. He’d been lying to his coworkers for so long that his lies felt like truths at this point.

Jimmy’s personal life had become a well kept secret from the vast majority of his coworkers and Jimmy knew if the truth came out then Tony Dinozzo would kill him.

Jimmy had to believe though that the risk of death was well worth it. Olivia Dinozzo was so worth the risk of imminent death.

He hadn’t known exactly who she was when they’d first met on this elevator only a year before.

Olivia, or Liv as she preferred to be called had kind of stuck out like a sore thumb at NCIS headquarters.

They had met in the most unassuming of ways. The elevator had stopped at the first floor and Liv had stepped on wearing a visitors badge.

Jimmy had been hers in an instant and she hadn’t even known it. He’d glanced over at her and he couldn’t look away.  

The thin straps of the deep purple dress she’d been wearing hadn’t done a thing to hide her figure, at least when it came to cleavage.  The dress’ paisley print and loose flowing fabric had made her look more like she should be hanging out at a farmers market or making flower crowns in a field somewhere and not standing in a tiny elevator with a flustered Jimmy Palmer.

He’d been able to spot heavy looking turquoise earrings even through the thick strands of her long dark hair. The silver bangles on her wrist and the heavy gem ring on her finger had only made her look more like a freespirit and less like someone that should be visiting NCIS headquarters.

Her nails were kept trimmed and neat and painted with a dark blue polish. Her makeup was kept minimal with only a dusty pink lipstick on her lips. Her skin looked soft and milky and she smelled like a mixture of lavender and patchouli. A year later Jimmy would begin to associate the smell with her and the warmth he felt anytime she was close to him.  From their very first meeting he'd been just as captivated by that scent though.

Jimmy didn’t think anyone could blame him for admiring her. She was a gorgeous woman and Jimmy was a young single man with a pulse. He was going to notice a pretty girl standing so close to him on an elevator.

She honestly did take his breath away. It was her eyes that had really done it, those big blue eyes that had made him melt and made her almost resemble a little doll. She was a petite thing really, the top of her head reaching his chest. He was pretty sure he’d easily be able to rest his chin on top of her head if she were to stand cradled against him. She seemed so delicate. There was something about her that had made Jimmy want to wrap himself around her and protect her.

She would later explain to him that she’d actually done ballet as a child and had been pretty gifted until she’d torn a tendon in her ankle that killed her ballet career. Her petite stature had caused people to push her towards ballet insisting her body was suited for it. To her credit she had managed to become a talented dancer although she didn't think being petite had aided into that. She did joke puberty and the development of curves had hindered her career long before she’d screwed up her ankle. He could remember her comment “I already had being on the short side working against me, then I got boobs and a butt and I decided I better start turning my attention to painting and photography instead of dance. I got the impression that my career was over long before I messed up my ankle. People were pretty fast to tell me that my body wasn't so suited for dance after I hit puberty hard. My ankle injury gave me an excuse to change my path.”

Jimmy had clung onto that story just as eagerly as he’d clung on to every other word she’d ever said to him over the past year.

Although back then standing in that elevator heading up to the fourth floor, Jimmy would have found it unimaginable to even believe for a second that he would ever have the opportunity to cling on to every word she said.

To say that he was attracted to her from the moment he’d laid eyes on her would be a vast understatement.

She of course had noticed he was staring and she hadn’t been shy to turn her head to face him raising a well manicured eyebrow questioning his obvious gawking.

Jimmy had managed to work the words from his throat, automatically thinking he felt like a moron at his choice in words. “Visiting?”

He’d almost wished he could toss himself down the elevator shaft at the realization of the words that had left him. A voice in the back of his head had been so quick to taunt him “Way to sound nosy and accusatory. You might as well have yelled: you don’t belong here. Nice going, she probably thinks you’re a classist asshole. She has a visitors badge clipped to her dress of course she’s visiting, not that it’s any of your business.’’

Much to his shock and disbelief she hadn’t taken his comment as him being rude. Instead she’d given him a sweet little smile that had made him all the more hers. “Yes, is it really that obvious? I’m actually making a surprise visit to my brother. He’s not expecting me until next week. I’m just hoping he’s not too busy. I know his schedule is a little odd. It’s just been a while since I last saw him. So I thought I’d surprise him at work.”

She’d paused raising an eyebrow at Jimmy’s usual work uniform of pale blue scrubs. She spoke up before Jimmy had a chance to ask about her brother. “Do you work here?”

Jimmy felt the words leave him ignoring the voice that told him he was babbling like an idiot and stumbling over his own words. “Yes, I uh...I w-work in Autopsy actually. I’m the assistant medical examiner….I’m still in school so I can’t really call myself a medical examiner until I pass my licensing exam. So, for now I-I’m just assisting our lead medical examiner Dr. Mallard. I’m usually down there in the basement. I just, I was coming upstairs to use the vending machines in the breakroom on the fourth floor. The vending machine in the basement always steals my dollars and I uh, I thought a soda sounded better than instant coffee.I had an early morning with a body pickup...so, uh, yeah...I-I work here.”

He bit the inside of his cheek to shut himself up knowing he was giving her far more information than she ever asked for. Why was he such an oversharer? He’d always been like this. He could get anxious and he’d find himself unable to stop talking. He never knew how to just sit quietly with his own thoughts.

He was stunned that she didn’t shut down the conversation at the mention of autopsy or a body pickup. Though her eyes did grow a little wide at the concept of just what he did for a living. Much to his shock she spoke the sweet smile not straying from her lips even though it had weakened just a bit as she took in his comments. “Oh, instant coffee is the worst.”

He parted his lips wanting to say something more, anything to keep her talking to him. He wanted to ask her about her brother or hell even ask her for her name.

All of his questions were answered as the elevator stopped at the fourth floor and both Jimmy and his companion stepped out into the passageway.

Jimmy watched stunned as the young woman he’d been so shamelessly admiring tackled the last person Jimmy had ever been expecting into a tight hug.

Ziva and McGee watched just as stunned as Jimmy as Tony lifted the girl from the ground, a foreign look of paternal adoration crossing Tony’s features. The girl giggled clearly accustomed to this type of treatment.

Tony spoke still holding her up ignoring his gawking coworkers. “I thought you weren’t coming until next week?”

She spoke as he finally placed her back on the ground, she straightening out her dress and her purse. “I found an earlier flight for much cheaper. I had demote down from first class but I didn’t mind. Pretzels and soda are just as good as pretzels and champagne even if the seats were a little smaller and I didn’t have as much leg room. My suitcases are downstairs in my rental car and the rest of my belongings are still due to arrive next week unless the movers really screw something up. I’ve already signed the lease on my apartment but I’ve got a hotel in the meantime.”

“You don’t have to stay in a hotel. I have a sofa.” Tony insisted a laugh leaving her as she rolled her eyes clearly resistant to this offer.

“The last time I slept on your futon I had sore hips for days. I think I prefer an actual bed and room service over a futon and cold pizza which I would have to pick all the meat off of in hopes I don’t get sick.” She remarked Tony letting out a scoff at the comment.

He cleared his throat finally noticing they had an audience. He spoke nodding down to her and to Ziva and McGee. “Probie, Ziva, this is my little sister Olivia Dinozzo.”

“Liv, please. Everyone calls me Liv.” She insisted giving a small wave.

“I did not realize you have a sister Tony.” Ziva admitted Mcgee fast to speak up, confirming. “Yeah, you’ve never mentioned it. I thought you were an only child.”

Liv spoke explaining everything. “I’m his half sister. Same dad, So, both progeny of Dinozzo Senior. My mother was his second wife, but not for more than two years. I was a bit of a surprise baby, Tony was already out of the house for most of my childhood. I’ve been living across the country for a few years now and before that I wasn’t even in the United States. I’m a freelance photographer and I’ve done a lot of photography for travel magazines and brochures so I’ve always been on the move. I’ve recently been hired for a teaching position at a community center though, so I’ve settled into the area.”

Tony finally took notice of Jimmy’s presence, taking notice that the young man was still gawking at events that had just taken place. “Autopsy Gremlin, who let you out of the basement? Shoo, get out of here. Don’t make me get a spray bottle after you again.”

Jimmy felt his cheeks flush, he hating that little nickname for the first time ever. Liv thankfully didn’t seem amused by the comment, rolling her eyes giving her brother a nudge as she spoke to Ziva, McGee, and Jimmy. “I am so sorry you all have to work with my brother.”

No one had a chance to respond as Tony spoke, shoving the files he’d been holding all too roughly into McGee’s arms. “Be nice, I'm buying your lunch. I’ll even find a place that serves tofu and lettuce.”

She let out a huff apparently well versed in this conversation. “Just because I’m a vegetarian doesn’t mean my entire diet only consists of tofu and lettuce.”

Jimmy watched hopelessly as Liv left following along behind Tony towards the elevators not giving Jimmy a second glance.

This was just his luck, he’d met a beautiful woman who hadn’t minded his awkward babbling, only to discover she was essentially untouchable.

He felt foolish for even having the thought. Who was to say she’d ever willingly allow him to touch her?

She was so far out of his league that it wasn’t even funny. Besides who was to say he’d ever see her again even if she had mentioned settling down into the area. The Virginia DC area wasn’t tiny, so chances are he’d never see her again.

Maybe Jimmy had just been single for too long now? Dating in combination with his odd career path and the time his schooling demanded wasn’t easy. He’d had more unsuccessful dates than he’d ever admit to, and his last relationship had been less of a relationship and more of a string of hooking up with one another in secret. It had been months since his last relationship had ended. He had been the one who’d ended that relationship admitting he’d wanted more from a romantic partner than the physical aspect of it. He’d had poor luck in actually finding a relationship though.

He’d begun to feel lonelier than he’d ever admit. He was starting to consider possibly giving online dating a try, but it seemed impossible with his erratic schedule and his less than conventional career path.

A small part of him was beginning to lose hope that he’d actually find anyone who would be willing to put up with him.

He told himself he was an idiot for feeling so disappointed that Liv was so unattainable. Pursuing her would never work. Jimmy had a distinct feeling that if he ever dared to even give Liv a flirty smile that Tony would bury him so deep into the ground that the devil himself would need a shovel to dig Jimmy back out again.

It was a lost hopeless cause.

It just wasn’t meant to be.

Much to Jimmy’s surprise though, fate had seemed to decide that it was in fact meant to be.

It had been two weeks since their meeting when fate had seemed to drag them back together.

Jimmy had been enjoying a rare leisurely day at the park enjoying a book and a sandwich he’d gotten from a nearby deli and taking in a nice spring day. He’d barely gotten more than a few bites of his lunch when a rather large dog had come out from nowhere snatching his BLT right from his hands and chomping it down.

He’d been stunned at this turn of events and that dumbstruck feeling had only intensified as a familiar voice sounded out. “Seriously? Oh, you’ve got to be kidding me.”

Jimmy had stared dumbfounded as Liv Dinozzo approached him her face flushed and her breathing heavy a sheen of sweat cross her skin. It was clear she’d been running after the dog for a long while now.

She spoke her voice frantic, barely even having the courage to look him in the eyes. This entire situation was beyond awkward. “I am so so so sorry. I was trying to adjust his leash and he worked his way free. He’s not even my dog. I was just walking him as a favor for my neighbor and if I’d known he’d do this I wouldn’t have offered. I’m just new in the area and I thought I’d win some points with my neighbor, since her arm is broken, by offering to walk her dog.”

She paused, finally meeting his gaze, a look of recognition crossing her features. “Wait...I know you. You, uh, you work with my brother right? I didn’t catch your name? We met on the elevator. Please don’t tell me I’m completely wrong about that. I think we’ve met before, right? I really don’t want to make this entire situation all more mortifying.”

He spoke trying not to cringe as the dog licked his hand soaking it clearly searching for another snack. “I, uh, yeah we met. Liv right? Tony didn’t introduce us properly. I’m James Palmer, but uh...everyone calls me Jimmy.”

He cringed even more, counting his blessings that she hadn’t brought up the name Tony had called him Autopsy Gremlin.

She spoke, clearing her throat shifting in place still feeling so horribly embarrassed. “I wish I could say we were meeting again under better circumstances. I can’t begin to express how sorry I am. Please let me make it up to you. I can buy you lunch. Anything you want to eat. Have lunch with me as a way to make up for this all.”

Jimmy felt his heart pound in his chest. She wanted to have lunch with him. Was this real life? He spoke nodding his head frantically. “Okay. I-uh, do you need help with the leash. I may be able to help. I worked as a veterinary tech during a summer in college.”

She handed over the leather leash Jimmy not helping but to appreciate just how silken her skin truly was as her fingertips brushed his.

He’d somehow lived up to his offer to get the leash on thanking his upper body strength as he helped her corral the dog to her car.

He’d tried not to gawk when they’d returned to dog to the brownstone she lived in. It was clear as day that her property was far nicer than Jimmy’s own. It made sense though he guessed, didn’t the Dinozzo’s come from old money? Tony might have been cut off from the family fortune but Liv clearly was not.

If she’d noticed his gawking she’d not mentioned it. To be honest, she’d seemed relieved that he hadn’t brought it up, nor had he mentioned it when she’d insisted on taking him a more expensive bistro than he’d usually eat at.

Much to his surprise and relief talking to Liv Dinozzo had actually felt easy the longer their lunch had lasted, even with his occasional tendency to be a little awkward. She hadn’t seemed to mind that he talked far too much and got far too enthusiastic. If anything she’d found his enthusiasm kind of sweet.

It had been so easy to talk to her that he’d taken a chance and asked to have lunch with her again or maybe dinner with him paying this time.

Much to his shock she’d said yes.

It had become a routine, spending time together. They’d spent months spending quite a bit of time together, going to lunches and dinners and museums and walks through the park.

It was a friendship really and Liv seemed oblivious of Jimmy’s more amorous feelings towards her. Or at least it seemed to Jimmy that she was blind to the fact that he clearly saw her as more than just a new friend.

Jimmy had been incapable of hiding it forever though.

It had started out so innocent. It had been a nice spring day and they’d taken a risk leaving the park and walking a few blocks to an ice cream parlor to cool down.

As they’d been leaving the ice cream parlor a spring storm had hit and they’d gotten caught in the downpour. They’d run the rain soaking them both until they’d found sanctuary under the awning of a building for lease.

Jimmy couldn’t help it. They’d been standing so close to one another the sound of rain hitting the cloth awning above them the scent of rain in the air.  He’d looked down at her and she’d been staring up at him and before he’d known it his lips had been pressed to hers.

He’d barely had the mind to even comprehend as she eagerly returned the passion of his kiss, his insecurities far too loud to ignore.

He’d spoken frantically babbling so sure he’d ruined everything. “I am so sorry. I have really screwed this all up. I should have never done that. I did that without even asking you for your consent. I know you aren’t romantically interested in me at all. I understand that you don’t feel the same way about me as I feel about you, and I’m mature enough to accept rejection. I’m just begging you to please not let my lack of judgement ruin any chance of friendship. I swear that will never happ…”

He didn’t have a chance to keep rambling as Liv did the only thing she could think to do to stop him. She placed a hand over his mouth, the action gentle but firm. “Jimmy slow down for a moment and breathe.”

She pulled her hand back after he nodded his head signaling that he understood. The words that left her made his jaw drop. “Why do you think I’m not romantically interested in you?”

Was she being serious? Was this some kind of cruel joke? Was this an attempt to really make it clear she was rejecting him? Did she want him to give her the reason she wouldn’t be interested in him just to make sure he understood why and wouldn’t pull this ever again?

Surely she wasn’t that cruel. He didn’t think she was cruel at all. She didn’t seem cruel enough to force him to vocalize the cold harsh truth like this.

He spoke his shoulders sagging, his brows furrowed, the answer seeming so obvious. “You’re out of my league. How could you ever even have me on your radar? Why would you ever be interested in me?”

“Why wouldn’t I be interested?” She asked, causing his jaw to drop once again.

She spoke again, shaking her head at the sheer ridiculousness of this moment. How could such an intelligent man be so oblivious? “I have been flirting with you for over a month now. I must be really shitty at it if you didn’t figure it out.”

He spoke his brain going a mile a second trying to think over every second they’d spent together over the past month. “You were?”

She wanted to bury her head in her hands at the question. God, he really was clueless wasn’t he? “Yes, very bluntly.  Honestly, I was flirting with you long before that. You didn’t seem to be getting the hint though, so over this past month I’ve really amped it up. You really didn’t think I needed to ask your opinions on anatomy for that art piece I was working on did you?”

She spoke again, spotting the look of confusion on his face. “You’ve been to my place Jimmy. You’ve seen my bookcases. I have more than enough books that I could turn to for reference if I had a question about getting the anatomy accurate on a painting.”

He felt his cheeks flush at the realization. He’d honestly missed all the signs. If anything he’d just read her jokes and smiles and friendliness. He’d thought she was asking for his help because she’d wanted to get back into painting and he had a deep understanding of anatomy. She’d insisted that he was the only one she trusted to guide her. She’d insisted he had the advantage of both having an analytical mind thanks to his medical knowledge and a creative mind thanks to his own passion for art. He’d been flattered by her insistence and had missed that the praise she’d given him had a flirty undertone to it. Sure, he’d noticed lingering touches and deep gazes but he’d assumed it was all in his head.

She spoke shaking her head slightly. It would be pathetic if he wasn’t so sweet. “Jimmy you asked how you could ever be on my radar, but how could you not be? I mean...did you miss the part where I kissed you back?”

He’d spoken surprised by an uncharacteristic surge of confidence sounding far smoother than he was sure he’d ever sounded. “I may have missed it. Could you refresh my memory?”

She’d leaned up her lips pressing to his he easily melting into the kiss returning it eagerly his arms encircling her waist pleased to find she fit against him just as perfectly as he’d imagined she would.

The smoothness faded from his voice, he sounding uncertain as he pulled his lips from hers. “What does this mean for us?”

She’d not minded his lack of confidence, her hand stroking his jawline, he leaning into her touch as she reassured him. “I didn’t work so hard flirting with you for months now for us not to make things official.”

And they had made things official.

There had only been one problem; Anthony Dinozzo Jr.

Liv had looked so guilty and so afraid when she’d brought it up only a month into Jimmy’s and her romantic relationship. “We don’t have to keep it from him forever, Jimmy. Trust me, this isn’t me being ashamed to be with you. I promise you it isn’t. I adore you so much. You’ve been so perfect and so sweet and I love being with you. Please don’t think I could ever be ashamed to tell anyone. Tony is just..Our childhood was a disaster. Dinozzo Sr. isn’t the warm fuzzy take you to watch baseball kind of dad. Trust me. Most of the kids I grew up with were shoved off on nannies the second we popped out of the womb.”

She paused shaking her head. “You know my mom died when I was four and even though she’d already left Dinozzo Sr. custody of me still went to him. Tony was in boarding school by then and Dinozzo Sr. wasn’t into actually raising me. So nannies took over all the parenting. It was just the normal thing to do in that environment. It just creates a cycle where parents find it easier to throw money at their kids instead of giving them any attention and the kids act out to get attention. Dinozzo Sr. really only gave me attention when he needed to make himself look good. And Tony was out of the house for good when I was a preteen, so I was left alone with that.”

She paused again clearing her throat. “I rebelled. I was hungry for any kind of attention even if it was negative. I had a pretty intense party girl phase starting in my teens and lasting into my early twenties. I wasn’t the only one...you know the stereotype, rich kids having the world and squandering and not appreciating the opportunities they’re given. I wanted my dad’s attention and he didn’t even notice. I think he didn’t write me out of the will and cut me off because he’d already done that song and dance with Tony. I guess it was too shameful to have two disowned kids instead of just one. He kept feeding my trust fund and pretended not to notice when I acted out.. So I sought out attention from other sources and found myself in some pretty awful situations. I mean..it was chaos and I was right there in the middle of it. I managed to stay clean at least when it came to anything harder than pot. I still partied too much though. My friend group didn’t shy away from the harder stuff and I didn’t have the sense to stay away from them. When things got scary, I couldn’t call my dad because he wouldn’t come rescue me. Tony was the only one who was ever there for me.”

“He was the only one you could trust.” Jimmy remarked Liv letting out a soft sigh nodding her head.

She spoke again. “I called Tony to bail me out of whatever mess I’d gotten myself into more than once. When I hit rock bottom he helped me sort my shit out. Even though it’s been a few years and I’m in a far better place emotionally, Tony still sees me as a scared little girl who finds herself in messes and needs rescuing. He is overprotective and anytime a guy shows me any interest he scares them off. I know you’re going to try to reassure me that he won’t scare you off...but that’s not my biggest worry.”

She paused taking a deep breath and deciding to just be blunt about it. “My brother has a gun and he knows exactly how to use it Jimmy.”

Jimmy felt himself pale at what she was insinuating. She spoke once again spelling it out even more her eyes beginning to water. “I don’t know how he would react, especially considering you technically work together. I think he just needs time to see that I’m really okay and that I’ve grown up and am no longer the girl I used to be. He needs to understand I don’t need him to protect me anymore. I don’t want us to keep our relationship a secret from him, but I don’t know what else we can do for now. I know it’s so unfair for me to ask that of you and I know it makes the worst girlfriend on the planet. I wish there was a better way, I jus…”

She didn’t have a chance to keep speaking as Jimmy spoke interrupting her his heart aching at the tears in her eyes. He couldn’t take her crying. He couldn’t stand the thought of it. She was far too beautiful to be filled with any sorrow. “I don’t like keeping it a secret either. You aren’t the worst girlfriend on the planet though, I promise. I’m okay with following your lead on this. We can do what you think is right for as long as you need. I like you too much to risk anything. Whatever makes you comfortable, I’m going to support you.”

They hadn’t intended it to be a year later and for them to be no closer to telling Tony the truth, but the timing had just never seemed right.

So they had persisted on like this, keeping Tony in the dark about everything.

There had only been one time where he’d almost discovered it all and that had been when Liv had called her number flashing along Jimmy’s cell’s screen in front of Tony. Jimmy had felt his stomach drop at Tony spoke. “Why is my sister calling you?”

Jimmy had spoken silencing his phone the lie falling from him. “I’m helping her with an art piece.She wanted some insight on anatomy and I offered to help…I uh, we ran into each other at a coffee shop a little while back and she remembered that you and I work together and asked for my help. So, I’ve just been giving her a second opinion on her work from a more analytical standpoint.”

He felt his heart drop Tony making it obvious he didn’t like this information. “I’d rather her ask Ducky for an anatomy lesson. Watch yourself Palmer.”

That had been a clear sign to Jimmy that they probably were doing the right thing keeping it a secret. He’d spotted a dangerous edge to Tony’s voice that day and Jimmy had easily remembered Tony’s gun.

As time went on though Jimmy knew it couldn’t stay a secret forever. Especially if they wanted any kind of future together.

Their relationship had grown serious. It was serious enough that Jimmy had introduced Liv to his family. He’d been able to at least announce that she was his girlfriend in that environment even if it was a secret at work.

Jimmy couldn’t help but to fear that they were getting a little too sloppy lately though, considering the evidence of their relationship had appeared on his neck more than once these past few months.

He tried his best to shake his worries from his mind as he arrived at her place; he was almost able to go on autopilot at this point when it came to the trip to her apartment after work.

Jimmy wasn’t surprised that she embraced him the second he walked through her door he barely having time to drop his bag and his spare key.

He buried his face against her taking in her familiar smell and the warmth of her body, the smell and touch feeling soothing after the day he’d had.

They stood there silently holding on to one another, soaking up the moment before she finally spoke, only pulling back from him far enough to speak clearly. “You smell like stinky hospital soap.”

He managed to chuckle at this pointing out the truth. “It’s preferable to what I smelled like before I used the hazmat shower at work.”

She spoke not shy about asking as she straightened out his tie the deep silver material having been a gift from her. It was a nice silk blend that he would never have gotten for himself. “That bad?”

“Awful.” He admitted his stomach turning at the memory.

She spoke nodding her head trying not to cringe at her own question or the information she risked receiving. “Worst than the body Dr. Mallard and you pulled from that sauna a few months ago?”

“So much worse. The sauna body may have been a pile of sludgy decomp, but this body today was pulled from a lake. So it was bloated and it smelled like severe decay and fish and algae all at once. The fish had gotten to some of the body so we’re working with a mess. I thought the smell would never leave my sinuses. Dr. Mallard took some sympathy on me and let me use the hazmat shower again.”

Liv nodded her head at this information trying not to visibly shudder at the imagery. She’d long ago figured out that when it came to her boyfriend’s odd career choice she had to have a tough stomach and strong will if she ever wanted him to feel comfortable venting about work to her or expressing excitement about something he’d found interesting at work.

She’d learned far more about decomposition and murder than she ever wanted to know, but she’d kept her disgust at bay telling herself being able to have Jimmy share the events of his day with her was well worth the disgusting details.

He’d been so hesitant to share the details with her at the beginning of their relationship, admitting to her that most people were uncomfortable with the details surrounding his job. She’d gently reassured him though that he should be allowed to share details about his day with her. If needed to vent about something he found frustrating or share something he found fascinating, she didn’t want him to have hesitations. She’d reassured him that if it ever became too much or too disturbing she’d stop him. She’d done her very best to resist stopping him from sharing with her though. She just wanted to be the best girlfriend possible. He needed someone to share his burdens with who wouldn’t judge him.

She pressed a kiss to his cheek her voice soft and reassuring. “Did it totally kill your appetite? Please tell me you didn’t skip dinner. You know your blood sugar plummets when you skip out on eating.”

He pressed a kiss to her temple not at all minding her scolding. “I ate. Dr. Mallard bought me dinner. Speaking of, he wants us to come to dinner Sunday. I told him I would need to check with you before I committed, just in case you had plans for us.”

“I don’t have any plans for us. I’d be happy to have dinner with him.” She reassured Jimmy trying her best to pretend she wasn’t still trying to shake the image of corpse eating fish from her brain.

Jimmy nodded his head relieved that she never seemed to be tempted to turn down Ducky’s dinner invites.

Dr. Mallard was the only person Jimmy worked with who knew about Liv and he. It had been an accident, telling Dr. Mallard.

Jimmy had been in the middle of assisting with an autopsy when Dr. Mallard had been rattling on about a case he’d worked where a man had been poisoned with cyanide being added to his palak paneer. The man had never seen it coming, his wife had poisoned him knowing he wouldn’t suspect her to poison his favorite meal.”

Jimmy had felt the words leave him before he could stop it. “I may need to tell Liv that Indian food night is cancelled for a little while.”

He’d felt his cheeks flush relieved that it had just been him and Dr. Mallard here to hear this information. He’d frantically explained it all, admitting the truth and confirming that Liv was Olivia Dinozzo and yes they were an item and please don’t tell Tony.

Much to Jimmy’s relief Dr. Mallard had agreed to keep his secret though he’d left him with a firm warning. Secrets couldn’t stay secrets forever and when the truth came out the fallout might not be so pleasant.

Jimmy had been relieved that Liv hadn’t been upset that he’d let their secret slip once he’d reassured her it was safe with Dr. Mallard.

Liv pressed her lips to his he easily melting into it as he always seemed to do. She giggled he so clearly chasing her lips for another kiss as she pulled away and spoke. “Can you hold off on calling him to confirm our invite until tomorrow. I have plans for you tonight.”

“Oh you do?” He asked as she pressed another kiss to his lips.

“So many plans.” She insisted her lips trailing down his neck a giggle leaving her as she spotted evidence of the last time they’d gotten a little caught up in one another.

She spoke an apologetic tone crossing her voice. “I’m sorry I made such a mess of your neck.”

He let out a soft sigh nodding his head. “Tony pointed it out, but I deflected it. He’ll probably drop it once something else attracts his attention. He’ll have the whole weekend to forget it.”

She nodded her head trying to pretend her stomach wasn’t turning at this knowledge that her brother might be catching on. He had no reason to suspect she was the one who’d left all those hickies on Jimmy’s neck. After all, Jimmy was careful enough to return them on her skin in places she could easily hide. Not to mention Tony had no idea that Jimmy and she spent any time together aside from the occasional “art project” Jimmy helped her with.

She knew it was getting more and more difficult to hide the truth. The more intertwined Jimmy’s and her life became the more they risked Tony finding out in the worst way possible.

There had been so many moments over the past year that Liv had wanted to tell Tony everything. She’d rehearsed it all in her head practicing the words again and again. She’d told herself that she just needed to have a heart-to-heart with her older brother and confess exactly how she felt about Jimmy and exactly how she felt in general. The timing was never right though. She never quite worked up the nerve to just bite the bullet and tell Tony everything.

She’d be lying if she tried to pretend that she didn’t feel like the worst girlfriend on the planet. After all, she’d met Jimmy’s entire family but she couldn’t find the balls to tell her own brother about Jimmy. Jimmy had been so proud to introduce her to his mother and his sister and grandmother. Why couldn’t she be proud to tell Tony that Jimmy was her boyfriend.

She knew the longer this went on the worst the outcome would be. The consequence of her choice would bite her in the ass eventually.

Deep down she knew the truth would need to come out sooner than later especially as Jimmy and she began to discuss their plans for the future and the fact that those plans very much involved one another.

She tried to push the worries from her mind as she spoke a soft sigh leaving her. “I’ll be more careful from now on. In my defense though, I just couldn’t help myself. You were being so cute and cuddly and we were having a lazy morning. I just got caught up in how sweet and handsome you are and how much I love you.”

“We were having a nice morning, I love you too.” Jimmy responded unable to stop the dreamy smile crossing his lips at the memory of exactly what they’d been doing when she’d left deep purple hickies along his neck.

To be fair he had left a share of his own lovebites along her body.

She ran her lips down his jaw running them lightly along his neck as she spoke. “So, I got a new camera.”

He felt his breath hitch finding it hard to concentrate when she was standing this close to him, her lips sliding along his skin. “Yeah?”

“Uh huh, It’s a pretty nice vintage Canon 35 mm camera from the late seventies I’ve had my eye on for a while. I finally found a refurbished one that is almost as good as new. I’m thinking I want to try doing a series of photos with it, maybe using some black and white film and doing it all old school. The only problem is I need to test it out first, make sure the film I got for it is good to go. I’m going to develop all the pictures myself and make sure it’s taking nice clear photos.” She explained pausing running her lips along the nape of his neck loosening his tie and unfastening hsi dress shirt just enough to reach his bare skin.

She spoke again already knowing she would have very little trouble convincing him. “So, do you want to help me test my camera out?”

He nodded his head eagerly unashamed of just how needy he sounded as the words left him. “I’m always happy to be your test model.”

She chuckled as she turned, taking his hands in hers leading him back towards her bedroom. “You were way too easy to convince. I didn’t even have to bribe you with an offer to take some nude photos for you.”

“Can we bring that offer back to the table?” he asked unashamedly, following her to her bedroom and whatever she had planned for him so eagerly.

“Sit still for a few photos and we’ll see.” She remarked already knowing he’d probably sit through however many photos she wanted even without a bribe.

He loved her far too much to say no, and she had no problem taking full advantage of it.

Needless to say, she had a feeling she might not be able to hold true to her promise to be a little more careful when it came to leaving lovebites along Jimmy’s neck.

……………………………………………………………….

A loud bang wasn’t the ideal way to wake up early on a Saturday morning. The banging persisted even as she attempted to bury her head underneath her pillow.

She let out a groan rolling her eyes as it hit her that Jimmy was still fast asleep apparently he was far too drained from the day before and the late night they’d had to allow something like some persistent knocks at her front door to wake him.

The only indication he gave that he was even aware of the situation was a drowsy half asleep comment muffled against his pillow “Tell the neighbor to be quiet, too early baby. Oli make em be quiet.”

She shook her head knowing it did no good to wake him and explain exactly what was happening. He worked so hard during the week. He deserved to have a restful sleep on the weekends. He needed his rest. She just had to go tell whoever was at her front door this early to get lost and then she could go back to sleep too.

She pulled herself from the bed finding one of Jimmy’s t-shirts and a pair of panties knowing the shirt was large enough to cover her lower half. To be safe she at least put a kimono on over the makeshift outfit knowing a little extra coverage would be wise.

She moved quickly, shutting the bedroom door behind her and making her way to the front door where the knocking continued.

She peered through the peephole, her stomach dropping. Well crap. She hoped Jimmy really was sleeping as deep as he’d seemed to be just a moment ago.

She just had to crack the door and get rid of Tony, and she could go back to bed with no one being the wiser about just who was sleeping nude in her bed.

She attempted to do just that, Tony not shy about speaking far too loudly for this time of the morning. “What the hell? I thought you’d never answer the door.”

“It’s Saturday morning.” She responded keeping the door cracked, hoping he’d get whatever he wanted out fast so she could get rid of him.

“I called but you didn’t answer. I need help. You remember Gina?” Tony insisted reaching forward pushing the door.

“Barely, what about her?” Liv asked, attempting to push back against the door trying to keep him out of her apartment and keep her cool pretending that his coworker wasn’t asleep in her bedroom.

Despite her attempts to keep the door shut Tony managed to work it open, letting himself in. “I thought I’d finally got rid of her but she found me when I went out last night and the only way I could escape was by telling her my sister had an emergency. We were at my place and she wasn’t leaving without a fight. I was desperate to get out of there. She might still be at my place. I just need somewhere to lie low until she gets bored and leaves.”

“That was last night, did you seriously sleep with her and now you’re trying to use me as an excuse to ditch her?” Liv asked deep down inside knowing that she already knew the answer to this question.

She might love Tony, but she couldn’t deny the fact that her older brother could be, well, a giant asshole at times. The man was the poster child for commitment issues.

“Well, when you put it that way it sounds bad., I can’t help it, Livy, she has this power over me. I cannot tell her no and then when I have a chance to regret it then it’s already too late.” Tony insisted not taking notice of Jimmy’s messenger bag on her floor.

He did notice something else of Jimmy’s though. “Wait a minute, you didn’t go to Georgetown.”

Liv felt her heart drop as she realized Tony was staring down at her t-shirt, the same t-shirt Jimmy had worn to bed last night and had ditched at some point when they’d decided to go for a round two where he’d left a very noticeable hickey long her left thigh as revenge for the new lovebite she’d given him along his collarbone.

She parted her lips trying to come up with a lie fast, but she didn’t have a chance as the actual owner of her t-shirt made his way into the room rubbing the sleep from his eyes not even noticing his girlfriend’s guest as he obstructed his own vision with his hand.

At least he’d managed to grab a pair of boxers from the floor instead of wandering into the room as nude as he’d been just a moment ago.

He spoke as he continued to rub the sleep from his eyes still oblivious to the situation at hand. “Baby it’s so early, why are you up? I thought I heard knocking but then…”

He felt the statement die on his lips as he lowered his hand, his stomach dropping as he realized the reality of their current predicament.

Tony moved quickly, starting to race towards Jimmy, his eyes narrowing. He spoke as Liv moved just as fast stepping between the men before things got too far. “What the hell Palmer? That’s my sister!”

Jimmy parted his lips, his voice sounding out though his throat was tightening panic bubbling in his gut. “Tony, I can explain everything.”

“Can you explain it? What the hell is there to explain? You’re sleeping with my sister? Oh god, she’s the one who’s been leaving all those hickies on your neck? You’re seriously hooking up with my little sister. You were in such a rush to leave work last night so you could come...have fun with my baby sister!.” Tony exclaimed disgust and rage crossing his features, he still attempting to reach forward more than likely debating throwing a punch Jimmy’s way.

“It’s not like that!” Jimmy exclaimed in response. It wasn’t just sex, he had to explain that this wasn’t just a case of him having some sort of friends with benefits situation with Liv.

“It sure as hell looks like that!” Tony remarked Liv pushing him forward trying her best to keep her enraged brother and her horrified boyfriend apart before someone got hurt.

She spoke trying to be the voice of reason. “We’re together Tony. We wanted to tell you…”

“Together? Are you serious?” Tony asked he moving forward again Liv pushing him away trying her best to keep the peace.

“Yes, together, we’ve been dating for a year now and we never meant for it to stay a secret this long. We just didn’t know how to tell you.” She explained, Jimmy fast to speak trying to support her and be another voice of reason. “I love her Tony. I promise you I’ve always had the best of intentions with Liv. She means the world to me.”

Tony spoke shaking his head disgust still written across his features he not hearing anything Jimmy had to say about any of this. “ My coworker Olivia? Him? Why didn’t you just twist the knife in more and sleep with Probie while you were at it.”

Liv let out a huff shaking her head trying not to sound offended by what he seemed to be insinuating. “I wasn’t just hooking up with Jimmy with no strings attached. This hasn’t just been sex. Believe it or not but I’m capable of having a loving stable relationship with someone who genuinely cares for me.”

Tony spoke so angry that he wasn’t going to shy away from going for a nerve he knew he could strike. “Well what else am I supposed to think Olivia? Considering your past, are you really surprised I don’t think the worst of your choice in men?”

“Don’t you dare. You have no right to hold any of that over my head!” Liv snapped her voice rising Jimmy shocked to hear a dangerous edge to her voice that was so unlike his girlfriend’s usual sweet gentle demeanor.

Tony scoffed at this comment. “Really? I don't have a right? You seem to forget that I’m always the one who has to clean up your messes.”

“That isn’t true! I’m not that person any more and you have no right to pretend I didn’t work hard to be a better person! I’ve worked so hard and you still treat me like I’m a disaster!” She cried out, her voice still so filled with rage.

Jimmy spoke, attempting to stop this before it got even uglier. “Tony, come on, this isn’t fair.”

“You have no idea what you’re talking about Palmer. Just how much has she told you about herself?” Tony snapped clearly ready to strike for blood and hurt his sister in exchange for her betrayal.

“Shut up Tony.” Liv snarled quickly, losing her cool the more Tony spoke.

Tony didn’t hold back letting his anger get the best of him. “Do you know how many times I’ve rescued her from whatever shitty situation she decided to get herself into? I have spent so many nights driving out to nightclubs or one of her shitty friend’s penthouses to save her because things got a little too real for her to handle. Did she tell you about the boyfriend who got coked out of his brain and she had to lock herself in a bathroom and call me to come save her because she was afraid he might hurt her? Or maybe she told you about the time she had to leave some guy’s apartment at two am and she wound up wandering the streets until she found a phonebooth to call me to come get her on a bad side of town. Or maybe she told you about the time she got herself arrested for being intoxicated and fighting with some guy in a parking lot at a seedy nightclub, so our father had to throw money at a judge to get the charges dropped? But Senior wasn’t ever there to actually rescue her. It’s always been me. Our father just throws more money at her and she keeps getting into trouble and never learning. I’m the one who always has to be the responsible one and stop her from getting hurt.”

Tony paused, regretting the words the moment they left his lips. “Trust me Palmer, I know my sister. She’s always been like this. Too much to put up with and too hard to love. She’s so starved for affection that she jumps into bed with anyone who’ll have her. So forgive me for not believing she’s actually got her shit together for once.”

The harsh tone that Liv’s lips shocked both men her voice cracking as she spoke. “Get out of my apartment!”

Tony took a deep breath calming his anger realizing he’d really messed up. He’d tried to go for a jugular to hurt her and he’d succeeded. “Liv please…”

“Get the fuck out!” She snapped her voice sounding shrill an explosive anger leaving her so unlike her.

Tony parted his lips trying to find the words but Jimmy spoke deciding to do what needed to be done. He had promised Liv he’d support her in whatever she needed to do, and he meant it. “You need to leave Tony. Just go.”

Tony looked as though he wanted to protest but he let out a deep breath taking one final apologetic glance his sister’s way before he finally left the apartment.

Jimmy and Olivia stood in silence Jimmy fearing her silence meant the worst. The insecure little voice in the back of his brain told him she’d want to be alone now. She’d blame him for wrecking her relationship with her brother. She’d want him to go.

He spoke praying the voice wasn’t true. “Oli.”

She turned taking him by shock her arms wrapping around his torso she squeezing him so tight it almost hurt. She spoke her voice sounding weepy as she tried and failed not to cry. “Jimmy.”

He rocked her against him as she spoke her voice still so tearful. “Please don’t leave me.”

Jimmy was fast to speak stunned she’d been just as afraid of his abandonment as he’d been afraid of hers. “Never, I’m never going to leave you.”

He continued to rock her against him as she cried, his heart breaking. He still couldn’t stand to see her cry. “I’ve got you, it’s okay. It'll all be okay. I love you.”

He repeated the words like a mantra rocking her against him as her body finally grew weak she unable to force herself to cry more even if she wanted to. “I love you. I’ve changed. I promise I’m not that girl anymore.”

“I know you aren’t. I know you weren’t her when we met at all. You’re you Oli. You’re the beautiful woman who took my breath away that day in that NCIS elevator. You’re the sweet gentle girl who bought me lunch because your neighbor's dog stole mine. You’re the girl who I kissed in the rain and all I could think was that you tasted like strawberry ice cream and all my dreams coming true. You’re the girl who kisses every inch of me and takes too many photos of me. You’re the beautiful girl who won’t let me tell you that I’m so unattractive that I’ll break your camera. You tell me all the things you like about me and make me feel more secure than anyone ever has and ever will. I know who you are.”

She closed her eyes praying to whoever might be listening that he meant it all. He spoke again trying to make his point clear. “You aren’t hard to love. You’re so easy for me to love.”

The statement caused more tears to fall she somehow clinging to him all the tighter. He managed to speak once again doing all he could to find some small way to soothe her. “Come on lets go get a bath okay. Just let me hold you in the bath for a little while. We can use that chamomile bubble bath soap you like to use when you’re having a bad day. Let me take care of you Oli.”

She nodded her head wordlessly, her body feeling so tired. She felt so exhausted as she tried to wrap her brain around Tony’s statement. He’d thrown all her worst fears right in her face. It hurt, it hurt so much. He was the only family she’d trusted and he’d said she was hard to love.

Jimmy pressed a kiss to her temple, making a silent promise to himself that he would do whatever it took to reassure her of his love. He didn’t care what it took.

He swallowed the lump in his throat trying to push back the anger bubbling in his gut. He wasn’t sure if he could ever forgive Tony Dinozzo for what he’d said and he definitely didn’t think he could forgive him for making her cry.

Jimmy would do whatever it took to make sure she never had a reason to cry by his side ever again.

[thattimdrakeguy]

Why, uh, do ppl hate Tim so much? I just fell down a hole of anti tim and I can’t find a..valid reason for the hate besides that fact tht hes rich and white?

From my experience it’s one of those things where Tim has antagonistic relationships with other Bat-Family members like Damian, Jason, and even partially Steph. So they just crap on Tim, because it’ll make their favs look better.

Like that’s genuinely been the main reason I see, and they use the fact he’s rich and white to make it seem like it’s a social justice thing, even though in the end it really isn’t.

I sort of rant for the rest of the post going in more detail, and mentioning things I’ve been shown, and why I think a lot of it is dumb, but basically it’s just people being petty and insecure, and being unable to handle things in any other way than childishly.

For some Jason fans I’ve seen them talk about how much they hate Tim because they replaced the poor kid with a rich kid, but I’m really freaking poor myself. Obviously I’m not homeless, but there was a time in my life where I slept on the floor, and later on after I did have a bed my bed room had a hole in the floor. But, they’re just looking too deep into stuff just to find a problem anywhere they can.

I’ve also seen some say Tim bullied his way into being Robin after the poor kid died. When 1) that isn’t even an accurate description of what happened and 2) they’re obviously just trying to word it the worst way possible, because they’re pretty freaking childish.

Damian fans try to make Tim and his fans out to be racist cause Tim doesn’t like Damian, when that’s actually because Damian got so close to killing Tim I’m pretty sure Tim actually did nearly die from bleeding out. I think also because Tim once said “what about his biology” when referring to Damian, when Tim wasn’t referring to his race, he was referring to how he’s related to criminals and Damian literally had his biology messed with to make him a fierce warrior and a good body for Ra’s.

Steph fans also try to make Tim and his fans out to be sexist. But their reasoning is really weak, because it’s literally just boiled down to Tim being mean to Steph sometimes, but it’s not like that’s cause of her gender for that to make sense. It’s because in context she is an untrained citizens constantly putting herself and potentially others in-danger without any training to feel safe with her constantly being out there. Plus she flirted with him so much to the point it made him uncomfortable and fit the literal definition of sexual harassment.

And they always do that thing where they gotta make their favs sound better, and Tim sound worse. Which admittedly Tim fans do the same thing, but I’m not really here to pick a side. I’m just here pointing out how freaking annoying fandoms can be, because ultimately I don’t really care what fandom does it. At the moment though I can confidently say, that other fandoms are doing it a lot more than Tim ones lately, because I’m in the Tim tags at least twice a day most days and I’ve barely seen it lately.

It’s kind of a thing to project a lot of stuff on the Tim fandom for the same faux-social-justice kind of jargon they try to do. When you see it from a view like mine, where I’m not on any side of any fandom, even if I am a Tim fan (cause I never really been into deep fandom stuff), it just comes off as hypocritical frankly.

(If you want to hear some dumb things some Tim fans do to even it up, they make him the most frail, emo, emotionally unstable kid ever sometimes. They can focus way too much on making him sympathetic (but even then, literally every fandom does that, but the Tim fandom always does it in a very notable depressing way). They also focus so much on coffee and practically act like he’s all pilled up on anti-depressants he just acts weird that it just seems obsessive and very out of character.)

Like as some examples they’ll bring up how Tim doesn’t trust Damian and put him on a list of potential threats. But Damian literally nearly caused Tim’s death, nearly caused it again in the same story, and at the end it’s shown that Damian isn’t on there because Tim considers him a villain, it’s because he has potential to be dangerous. Wonder Woman and Red Tornado are also on the same list.

To me, I just look at that story as ridiculous, because Damian isn’t dumb, and Tim literally spoke against contingency plan stuff before. Damian’s going to need more than to be on a vague list as a potential threat, especially when he’s visibly on the hero side of it. Damian’s not that thinned skin. He’s got a temper, and obviously really doesn’t like Tim, but even when he felt Tim was insulting him or being patronizing to him before he didn’t try to kill him then immediately. He tried to kill him because he thought that’s what he was supposed to do to earn his place beside his father.

The story’s just dumb in-general.

And then they pull out the New 52 story where Tim is just being a dick to Damian for no good reason, but it’s the same kind of thing. Tim was never that much of a dick without being provoked. The only time I think Tim started a fight was in Red Robin where he was on pills that messed with his mental state, and again had everyone out of character regardless. Because 1) Dick wouldn’t just give away Robin from Tim, because he knows better than that. 2) Damian acts like he’s happy his dad is dead and just acts like a generic child and not even like Damian. And 3) I legitimately can’t see Tim just hitting a kid, even Damian, unless a fight already breaks out.

For Steph fans they point out how Tim is passive aggressive to her, constantly doesn’t want her to be Spoiler, and yada yada. Probably because her Batgirl run portrayed that as being mentally scarring to Steph. Even though one of the panels they chose of Tim being upset and not wanting her to be Spoiler, was after Steph caused Tim to be disfigured and on the pills that messed with his mental state to begin with. Which inadvertedly just makes her look self-centered and narcissistic. But again, I don’t even consider that in-character, because 1) I don’t buy that Steph would listen to Batman especially when it puts Tim in danger, because she never gave a crap about what Batman said till they needed to villainize her before she died. 2) Steph can be arrogant and self-centered, she has it in her, but she wouldn’t ever be that self-centered, to the point she just looks narcissistic. 3) I’m pretty sure at the actual time it happened, Steph is shown being aware she messed up. 4) Steph never cared what others thought. She trespassed on other people’s property to party. She’s a very confident person the majority of the time. Batman tells her to knock it off, she might as well flip him the bird because she just finds him more annoying than anything else. It’s literally in her origin that she doesn’t even like Batman.

There’s also the context for in the 90s when Tim first started doing it. Steph was portrayed as a reckless citizen that could potentially get herself and others into harm because she didn’t know what she was doing, and didn’t have the highest morals. That’s not anything any of the bats would encourage. If Tim was extra passive aggressive, he’s a literal thirteen to fifteen year old boy during that time, no duh he’s going to be immature. That still isn’t a sexism thing. Steph may had saved him twice, but that wasn’t portrayed even in-story as a sign she can handle it like a pro. It was always portrayed as “thank goodness she was with Tim at that time, and knew where he was to save him”. Not to say she was completely unskilled, because I’m not taking that far, but just speaking in generalizations.

She was originally added into Robin to be a very specific foil to Tim, and be a general pain in his side. That was their dynamic. If that makes it seem weird that they eventually had them date then I agree.

And at the same time for both of their characters they also ignore what the character they’re trying to defend has done, because Damian literally nearly killed Tim. They act like Tim should just get over it, because Damian was a kid in a cult, but that explains why Damian did it, it doesn’t excuse it. When something like that happens the person who was nearly killed is probably going to be traumatized (rather or not Tim was can be argued, I’m not saying he was or wasn’t), and not ever trust the person. Like that is the natural and most accurate response for it.

It’s just villainizing for the sake of being petty.

With Steph they ignore the fact she essentially sexually harassed Tim all the time and straight up emotionally abused him for an arc. Which her fans hate to hear, but that is stuff that happened. It was written by her creator. I don’t really care if Tim took her costume away or kissed her first, because I’m aware, and I know the contexts, and it doesn’t take away from what she’s done, because that’s not how that works. They also ignore she caused Tim to be disfigured by saying she was just doing what Batman said. But at that point she was also an adult, and would know better.

Like Steph can be reckless, that’s part of her character, but she isn’t an idiot.

In the end, from what all I’ve seen, it’s literally just fandom pettiness. There’s a lot of fans out there that act childish, treat people like idiots, blatantly lie about things, or exaggerate stuff.

It’s all very dumb, but I find it hard to take serious, because if they can’t acknowledge what their own favs have actually done, it just comes across like they genuinely don’t like the character and can’t admit it. They prefer to stay in their candy land so they gaslit others instead.

For me it’s as easy as paying attention to the story, seeing the contexts, and a lot of the time it’s not even a thing that’s in-character for any of the characters involved, or at least the very least not nearly as serious as they treat it.

Especially for around the past 15 or more years or so. By then the care in making everything is crafted and makes sense went down the drain so it’s often that a story doesn’t even make sense to begin with.

They think fandom is about making everyone else look bad apparently, or at least they sure act like it.

Like it’s comics. I think the fandom in-general that gets so worked up over stuff needs to relax, deattach yourself to look at it from the grander view, and calm down over it. Because things aren’t always what they seem. People try to convince themselves of so much stuff, or bully others for so much stuff, and it’s all so petty and unhealthy.

My personal philosophy in the fandom to avoid any toxic behavior is to just keep it real. I don’t lie to myself, I give everything the same standard, I definitely don’t bully or gaslit anyone, I don’t treat my favorite like they’re a real dang person either, and I look at it all like how it is, fiction.

It’s the reason why I get upset at writing and not fictional characters. I don’t ultimately care when a character does a bad thing, unless it’s out of character. To me the only thing I get upset with is the writing, because it’s the only thing that’s real.

Don’t be obsessed, and keep the peace essentially.

[misterbitches]

I ship muren and li cheng bc i only saw it through gifs then i watched this episode cos i was like im only starting this show if they kiss im waiting and they did and it was nice and i got so anxious that i was about to fucking vomit. I really like them together. The top/bottom shit is dumb and i hope if they must mention it they all build a bridge and get over it so they can switch cos who gives a shit. I didnt realize how large they all are like most “tall” men on tv are lying. But bc that kid is so thin and tall and the other one (idk the stepbrother) is huge too. Li cheng is shorter than them both but more ~manly~ but still short so why doesnt he take a DICK UP HIS BUTT XD since that’s all that fucking matters and there’s only 2 genders and 2 eays to have sex lmao so nothing else otherwise ur screwed

Hd a terrible past couple of weeks personally and because i keep seeing my peopl eget murdered and things ripped from us ^_____^ anyway here’s Some libertatrian communist dumb bitch discoars so i’ll tag it:

keep in mind these are my opinions’”” when i engage in discourse. I am not the end all be all and I don’t need you to agree. There’s some shit I am non-negotiable on but thsi is just exchanging of information. Any authoratative tone I take on comes from my beliefs, my life, my experiences, and what I choose to cultivate as a person and an artist. I dont have control over your feelings, you do. If it hurts you then either tell me the issue and be PRECISE about it, understand that context matters which is why i type so much in engagement, and do not fucking lie or misconstrue my words. Do not call me western ever in your life either. I am a black-american. I have adhd and bc i am a black woman if ur automatically thinking im brolic i am accepting money in my paypal for ur wellbeing to get me to shut the fuck up.Thanks.

The stepbrothers storyline is stupid and lazy writing. I really want to counter people that say it’s written well and that it’s interesting because it isn’t. Even if it was illicit and fucked we can write a story out about this. Let’s rethink what they could have done shall we:

- become stepbrothers at about 16 and their parents mismanage the relationship and they fail in trying to get an integrated family together (this is what happened in the #iconic transit girls and that was fuckin’ weird but hey dude guess what we watched it and it was weird but not unethical and we know one is like 19 and the other is 21 and a girl so it’s like wow you avoided so much and handled their stepsister story very…….um lightly given the end lmao but it was there and people had AGENCY)

-OR you realize that freak is obsessed with him and then he realizes it and is like “bitch i swear to god” and in typical shtity trope BL fashion they can find a way from obsession, to loss and independence when you lose your obsession, to “love” if they choose

- have the fucked up shit but make it clear what the issues are and you literally cannot write your way out of it so do not try

But why can’t fucked up things be shown? Also this is realistic.

0. Well according to you but no one said that they can’t. So that’s on your interpretation of critique (that is, again, not bullying or harassment.) They can, i just gave plenty of scenarios in which it is affective and not just annoying to witness, trope-y, and frankly ridiculous and offensive. Sorry! They don’t do it well. You can come up with alternatives too. See #2 btw.

1. No it isn’t doing a good job of reflecting life because life has consequences. The exaggeration in drama doesn’t mean the arc shouldn’t be there. Almost always things that aren’t heavy with the message or meant to be sobering in a deep way are COMPELLING. The realism is the basis for art because we are human. This is not the way real humans act.

Someone said Tharn Type was mature and I had to laugh because no, no one acts that way and is “in love” if they act that way that means they fucking hate each other and they’re immature and frankly it’s just not that interesting for many of us to watch because the dramatization of the “realism” is fucking bonkers. That was such poor writing it is unbelievable and someone has the audacityt o say it’s how real adults act. Fucking murder me if I’m with someone for 7 years and we break up over a miscommunication and for some reason I am not as horny as my always horny boyfriend. The fuck? What kind of lives do you lead? Either you are not an adult or you are an adult who needs therapy.

I also hear the “realistic” argument but then people try and temper it with “but also it’s fiction.” What do you think fiction is? Why do you think filmmaking exists? Number one, it’s propaganda in the sense that you want others to buy into your presentation and see what you see. That means that the creators are telling people and influencing them WITH ART BECAUSE THAT’S WHAT IT IS about their feelings around a situation. That’s why it is imperative to be responsible as a filmmaker and artist and underline the deepness of creepiness if that’s what they want. If they want to relay that rape sometimes ok and psychos are crazy so they get boy (??!?!?!? BITCH?) then they achieved it with no innovative information. We know people get raped bc we are human beings and many of us live with that fear. You know, being the target demo and all. And bc BL loves that trope it’s rape fantasy peddled to young people and women. Just like shitty wattpad fics or NYT best sellers. Hooray, what now? Or are you trying to purport that this isn’t glorified fanfiction? Which it literally is

2. This is the issue with these shows. No one is saying that fucked up shit cannot be shown. There’s a film about a woman who is raped and she falls in love with her rapist (because he was masked but i think we find out later that she knows. Binoche is in it.) I have no desire for that film—i think it’s by a man and i extra dont care—but I hear it’s sort of powerful for many. I heard it was a good film. But the act itself is always eschewed and the conflict comes from how fucking ridiculous it is especially finding out that she knows. The power imbalance adn the possibility. They may not have handled it in a way I would have cared for but it was there.

There’s simply no imagination because these people do not care that much and aren’t great writers and filmmakers because they simply do not have to be. Sorry.

The industry doesn’t rely on the best they rely on efficiency (this is everywhere.) You can tell by the camera angles, the editing, the camera itself (idk if it is multicam but the flatness is typical soap flatness without the glowboxes to soften their faces.) Simple constant lighting. Now the surroundings are mostly beautiful. But even to some of the costumes. And those edits are abysmal, some of that camera work.

So with all that said even with the couple I extremely enjoy I see its (H4) faults. Add into that a lazily thrown together “shocking” love and if they are trying to get us to feel a type of way about its sexiness they fail. This is why movies like 50sog, 365 days, etc aren’t enjoyable to people because it’s fucking strange situations that they dont want to entangle or make enjoyable to viewers across the board. They know what people will take. It’s just that bitch what are we here for if even the sexiness isn’t there for ur stupid story.

At least with that teenager and 30 yr old man in MODC (which i do not love but i like them in theory if it wasnt totally repulsive to me and also if it was developed in a way that was good TO ME) they had their, er, “sex appeal” i talk about this as well the main couple in MODC to me, visually, was a miss. Not bc whatshisface was small and stuff but bc he was so sickly and they needed that to propel the story but it was just not appealing given how the story progressed. A missed opportunity in tying the two together besides making him look waif-y and sickly only to have the “did ur mom die in a car crash? No, cancer” type of move in not another teen movie. But the opposite. And not funny. Wayne tho????? GORL. Eggs. Cracked.

fandoms have a very warped sense of harrassment and discourse.

Most fandoms have harassers who are “protecting” the cast and crew who don’t need their protection (or maybe the crew does since they probably dont get paid well but why the fuck would anyone care about that lol) but very few have the people who have concerns or massive critique about the show are not going to be “bullying.”

If people are saying “if you like xyz, u suck” then sure it may suck for you to see but who fucking cares. Either talk to the person or don’t be friends with them. That is not bullying or harrassment. Things that are shitty get criticized. Fuck, things that aren’t shitty don’t. Get away from this idea of cancel culture and people misunderstanding the story. We have the ability to.

Think beyond your noses of personal preference. You don’t have to convince people of what you believe. Discussing it is good but critique is not bullying, harrassment, or hate. Neither is fucking roasting shit because even this shit I like (manner of death lets say) deserves it. Art is meant to be critiqued and if you dont fucking like the bullshit people make then say it. They know stupid stories like this are scandalous and they don’t give a shit in how to present them.

And guess what? You won’t like everybody. Many people can’t stand me i’m sure. Oh well. I mean frankly I don’t like that and I feel very unsettled when I don’t feel understood. That’s ok! I have to temper it. Sometimes calm myself down. I won’t get anything and everything I want. And you won’t like every opinion and sometimes it’s like “man am i a dummy?” But the part of growing up is fucking maanging that and beng honest about “bashing and harrassment” and “bullying” and growing up. Yuo can like what you want the “let people like what they want thing” is so fucking juvenile and THAT is not the real world. Which is probably why so many people feel that way, they dont want to live in the real world. Unfortunately, you do.

Think beyond our noses of personal preference and what we feel emotionally in conjunction with others. You don’t have to convince people of what you believe. And you can say things that you believe to be true but it doesn’t make them so or maybe it isn’t received that way to people. And many times we learn new things in the discussions “oh shit i didn’t see it that way” right? Discussing it is good but critique is not bullying, harrassment, or hate. Neither is fucking roasting shit because even this shit I like (manner of death lets say) deserves it. Art is meant to be critiqued and if you dont fucking like the bullshit people make then say it. They know stupid stories like this are scandalous and they don’t give a shit in how to present them. Usually the “opposition” in these situations aren’t the popular beliefs that permeate through society. Trust me lmao

Antiblackness

Antiblackness is a thing. It permeates everywhere. It permeates in this genre and it permeates in fandom. Get it the fuck together. Also do not conflate cultural relativism with being repsectful. They are not barbarians, they are smart human beings either making work or deciding to. We all have diff cultures but we have fucking sense in what is respectful and not. And if we don’t we fucking learn. You cannot excuse things and say “oh culture” when you have 0 idea of that culture or actual people who are radical etc and are fighting against it. Additionally the word westerner is an ignorant term when referring to people in the US or UK who are black. Because we are not. We extend sympathy to other groups and empathy since we know so there is no inherent power imbalance between a black viewer and their subject. Don’t suggest that because it’s wrong and ahistorical and contextless.

FIRST the fallacy of representation as freedom makes people fucking complacent, individualistic, and doesn’t let them think critically. Consumption and discourse around consumption is not helping material conditions of the marginalized communities in your home, the black ones who are ignored, those intersectionalized in these communities. Groups talk about art and what it means for them outside of just what we see and because we also don’t have access to a bunch of Thai reviews or what movements or going on we are less likely to know if we don’t FUCKING SEARCH for it. Because art is constant...which leads me to....

Representation is difficult. It matters and it doesn’t.

Tthese shows are not meant to overturn the LGBTQ+ community.

There are queer filmmakers and artists in these countries. Deep illustrious film careers or even TV that is moving and deliberate. We can even see it with the dude from “your name engraved” in their short series he was in beforehand. BL is no wa pejorative because it is simply not “qu**r” storytelling whatever that means. But know it has always existed everywhere and there are also out artists or radical artists in all these countries who do no respect mediums that are cash-grabs and poorly made.

ex: As much as “Like in the Movies” sort of isnt for me and is a bit hamfisted you can tell how much love goes into that. Love of the characters, acting, and message. Yes it’s cringey to see some of the lines (like very tbh subtlety wasnt exactly their strong suit) and yea naming them after lenin and marx is just 0ihgoaudgijposkagjihou BUT GUESS WHAT? THEY FUCKING DID IT. THEY TRIED. And class was a large component as well bc u cant fuckin ignore it. The show is aware of the machinations in its world as a show but also in the philippines and for a fuckin reason. And duatarte? Loooooooool so like yea not so sure bl makes him love his ppl but the show isnt trying to do that

It’s not a transgressive genre and it has no reason to be. No ethical anything under the way we live it’s just trying your fucking best to be. That’s it. They serve societal ills and capital’s purposes. Which is fine but it is not revolutionary.

These countries in SEA or even SA do not have as big budget for even mainstream dramas—though things are changing and that’s bc REVENUE like revenue from kpop is fucking huge for SK and again so much about that is bc of what happened in their history from japanese imperialism to WWII to the US—so for “queer” stuff it is sort of now important to make that an export and it sure is one. Not only globally or to the west but a lot of these places make their money within asia (duh!) outside of their countries. OBVIOUSLY. so BL is a way to output and gain money. The thing is, it doesnt seem to be put back into the industry at all. For people in all these countries to make works that aren’t for mainstream or wont reach as many people there’s a difference between trying and just shoving shit in your face and going here it’s gay you like it right? But dont antagonize the inherent patriarchal nature of BL.

Another thing: did you guys know thailand was never colonized? You should look it up. There’s little hints of things in ITSAY to represent french influence still. Isnt that fascinating? Find out why. It’s certainly interesting that the representation, though damaging and dubious many times and also incorrect like any media, is huge in asia and this isnt a commodity here (the US) exactly. A lot of that has to do with colonial ideas of gender of which I am sure. But listen………lmao

Sometimes people dont give a shit. And it very much shows. Here is the thing once again. GOOD TRANSGRESSIVE WORK exists.

Een within the capitalist Bs paradigm or you can see people trying (I can sort of applaud parts of lovely writer) also queer media has always existed everywhere the reason you don’t know about it is because it gets takena nd commodified into a mainstream product. We hvae little incentive, particularly if we are not fans of cinema or art in gen, to search fror others when the output is right here. Being dictated by others and the state and who will give you money. No longer an effort of a cast and crew who want to convey things. But google [any country] independent cinema, radical cinema, queer radical cinema, or even retrospectives on the cinema and rethinking what is queer and radical in film. What if we took that, diluted it, got rid of the creators who put themselves through all the work, ignroe al the nuances and do……………….two actors who are conventionally attractive with no chemistry making out.

It’s the same here lets say daniel kaluuya winning the oscar for the film about the BPP. I heard it was okay and not too offensive but it still isnt’ enough. It still isn’t like hwood isn’t trash, nnati black, misogynistic towards BW and women, and all that other shit. It was pushy but it can’t be enough where we are. Black KKKlansmen i think won an oscar, by circumstance i fuckin hate these award shows they mean nothing, and i like the film a lot but he has his misogynoir still resting in his films even if it is poignant. And it was a film that honestly wasn’t really made for black people. And should all art be a response to direct trauma or trying to make ourselves palatable when we’re just human?

$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$ and it’s importance (capitalism) but also sorta individual responsibility

Considering a lot of these actors are rich and then just dip that’s another problem. Mainstream isn’t what sustains marginalized art ever. It doesn’t change in the vast ways we think it does. What changes is the people of these groups pushing, fighting, forcing and then capitalism trying to make it work under capitalism. It will not. It cannot.

This is why artists and labels often don’t mix or you see people like Sonic Youth doing whatever they want and pissing off their label but making them give them money. Same with Nirvana. Vince Staples. The thing is they can fight and make good shit but what capitalism helps people….not care? They don’t respect the audience? We’re getting those returns on poor executed product placement, lighting, editing, framing, fucking acting. And you surewon’t see mixed black asians in these shows. WHY R U is the oNLY one i have seen it in and he just disappears (but that was pretty cool.) so who the fuck is this representing? And before you start: asian countries are not homogenous the way we believe them to be. There are marginalized communities outside of even mixed people that are harmed. So you can skrrt cause on that one: you’re wrong buddy. But it gives us the IDEA of a paradise which is what they NEED.With representation and visibility comes consequence and responsibility as artists. What it allows them to do is coast and not think complexly because why should they; it’s mostly the fantasies of some older woman who probably has money and much less interaction with the world. It’s bonkers. And what that allows even further is for them to say YOU ARE THE THING THAT YOU CONSUME and the THING THAT YOU CONSUME IS YOURS. It is not, it is not your identity, form a close bond but figure it the fuck out. Especially for adults who are hellbent on twisting their minds into pretzels and can’t acknowledge what’s just laziness in art and not giving a fucking shit. Truly.

There’s damage that has been done from Parasite as he was supported by CJE&M and the bullshit obsession america had and eveyrone’s poor interpretation of it if they are rich. BJH is a socialist and he is a filmmaker. He has made films that are outstanding and cost a lot of money. But now a fear for indie filmmakers is just not being able to raise that much or have that much attention. Getting funding that helps them instead of expecting the Next Big Thing that is a fad because capitalism is trash. Yes this funneling of money is absolutely harmful to us artists. Even buying in is strategic. Additionally, that film is probs one of the most radical films to have that wide release and accolade (unlike “Sorry to Bother You” which i have a lot of thoughts about. One being that asian exports are acceptable but black ones are not. This is an overall art critique and global media critique. Blackness is removed, not respected.) However, filmmaking isn’t green, it can’t be socialist, and it’s a lot of work. They used tons and tons and TONS of water to do a huge beautiful feat but we still know there is a cost. We have to figure that out because it shouldn’t be. It doesn’t go back into the crew’s pockets the way it should and the work becomes that of the director’s and actors solely. It’s fucking hard. We have to do our part but it doesn’t mean we are doing it perfectly. We just have to try to do better. So does BJH cos he needs to not be a misogynist but anyways i digress.

additionally and this is something some users fail to understand: people in the media sphere generally have fucking money. I went to film school that was international with super fucking rich kids. Taiwanese kids, kids from south asia, china, thailand. They had money. No not upper middle class money, not “rich” money, not some paltry 1m that’s chump change. Fucking money. Fucking RICH-RICH. MILLIONAIRES. BILLIONAIRES. WHICH IS DISGUSTING MIGHT I ADD. The domestic people didn’t have the money for school (in the UK) and i am in a massive amount of debt like every other black student that went there. You do not understand how much money is needed to survive so people who turn to these crew positions even casting etc need this fucking money usually. OKAY. A lot of the people that do well in these dumb shows or even on a larger scale HAVE MONEY. The reason these industries are small and struggling is because of lack of people and lack of resources to independent shit because oh gee it takes money to make things.

Why should I try? Well you don’t have to really if you have money or a name. Yet...

We can tell when like those Tik Tok shows or DCOMs dont give a shit (anymore.) You know how frustrated we get when content for young people is garbage? Well, see, BL is literally that under that system. Occasionally we will get something good now but there is virtually no need in any sector in the world at this point to truly figure out how to make it better and what to do to enhance artistic literacy, outreach, teaching people new things, getting people from these communities there and having true realistic says. Art and culture is IMPERATIVE TO WORLD LIBERATION but not when it is so stiffly trying to bend to capital’s idea of progressiveness. No. Neoliberalism. No.

That’s why in a way ITSAY is a huge feat; it takes from films etc and they clearly had money (the actors rae rich too which….lmaooooo j’aime pas) but it was a respected fucking script, acting was important, blocking, framing. There’s very little to critique as a visual medium for that because I understand what they are trying to do, their market is going to be mostly young girls, but they RESPECT THE FUCKING AUDIENCE. And guess what guys? You can make money from it!!!! WOAH! Since that may be the only goal which is disgusting and repulsive.

HOWEVER AND THIS IS WHAT IS SAD: itsay is an ex of a great show however knowing the actors backgrounds and the pseudo trouble it stirred when they weren’t supporting people protesting against the coup in the summer it really put a damper on my enjoyment. And this is how we can see that:

a) it’s honestly just a show and a good one but b) now what?

These kids (actors, who are like idk 19? 20?) are rich and not saying anything while countless actors, who were filming, did. Even tul who has $$$$ and the thing is the protesting against the coup legitimately attacks the rich. As it should. The protests going on were cries for help, against a dictatorship and fucking coup, asking people to get fucking help for covid, having kids be able to live. There’s a mini on VICE about this and it probably doesnt go too in depth but there’s a kid in there who talks about his friends getting into drugs and how he just wants to make music, have fun, skateboard. And it’s harrowing to see. This is a direct example of what these things do and don’t do. Yea we know a good show is here, we know growing up and slice of life, we know this is a bit of escapism and idealism but the idealism is reflected in the way these actors also choose to live their lives. So what progress? To who? For who? How is this helping me? What purpose does it serve? I say ITSAY serves its purpose as a piece and a glimpse into possibility of growing up but i do not say it antagonizes a broader issue that needs to be relevant in some sense but simply is not. It’s very singleminded and, well, it’s sort of like “besides my sexuality, what do i have to worry about?” But for real humans like....a lot. I do not respect their decision at all.

Why can’t we do our jobs and make something decent and respect our audience? No time, gotta make that sweet sweet sweet cash baybee. Look how progressive we are! Don’t look at history and material conditions. Thanks in advance, management.

History 4 does not have that respect. Many of these shows do not. Sometimes we hit good, sometimes we don’t. But in the end we cannot settle. And I won’t. If I am critiquing something I will not be shy and if I am meant to enjoy something as escapism then these shows NEED to highlight that and it’s rare sometimes (the best twins is a good reminder like that show is bad but man do i Brain Empty when i turn it on and i like that and there’s not much in it that makes me want to kill myself from annoyance but there are transphobic jokes i dont love however the whole show is a comedy about this dude’s crazy homophobic sister and she is constantly positioned as wrong and they talk about the aforementioned trans women as the actor was in drag. Interesting that they can manage that, huh?)

Oh btw.....taiwan has a very complicated history but ignore all the bad stuff it’s good now you can kinda sorta get married and stuff. KMT? You know how i learned that? I care about human beings and read about it lmao. I am not Taiwanese and look at that. So now I have historical and DIALECTICAL~**~*~****~*~*~ context so i can judge it as an artist, a black woman from america, and from the knowledge i have to pick up on their history to see if this fits into a broader picture besides the micro-one of sexuality on an individualized level. And this is kinda where it comes full circle: these shows are not you, you are not them, they do not exist in a vacuum because nothing does. The failure to critique now means continuing on as it has and it will still do so. History and time are not linear in the sense we think it is. Someitmes things are better, sometimes things feel more austere. We are not living under liberation though and these shows are not going to do so. So they are not US nor are they for a nebulous “us” of which the groups are all fractured and have diff opinions anyway (my opinion as a black american is going to vary from an asian woman’s say and that could really clash and i do not feel solidarity with all those in every community i am for several reasons.)

Final thots that have taken up my time and the only thing i actually wanted to write but got distracted:

Anyway my dissertation is that I ilke Muren and LiCheng a lot a lot and i like how cute they are and how truly dumb li cheng is. This is an example of mostly good writing, decent actors, nice chemistry, and sort of a calmness to them. And I super enjoy how Muren is pretty forward with LC in the sense that being together is like very important to truly be together. When he was like “no i didnt forget!” Or when LC asked him something in the office I forget it was 6 am and again i almost threw up and muren nodded and then LC leaned on him. Very cute. I want more of them tho i may have to skip that othre couple (the cameo the ones from MODC) but omfg the younger one HIS HAIR GREW SO MUCH HE LOOKS SO MATURE AND CUTE OMFGIJ0HUG9SAOGIJPKOAGJSIOHUAGIJP hahhaha the one good thing i will say about THEM.idk how old the actor is i figure he was young idk it makes me happy to see him he’s very cute. I hope he’s in something i can watch and not gag at. Is he hot? Who knows but he is a cutie!!

Anyway muren and lc have a good thing going it’s nice to watch ho\pe they dont fuck it up but im truly a sucker for some true finds 2 luvas i think some user on her\e was like i’m not a fan of friends ot lovers bc it doesn’t seem like they’re actually friends and maybe they were referring to this show idk. But it made me think and it was a very good observation. So i think they are friends and also luvrs <3