#Who's That Girl?

[lyssahumana]

Frank Horvat, Swinging Girl, Cairo, Egypt, 1962

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

who's that girl?

Warnings: this fic will include elements, some dark, such as possible cheating, low self-esteem, noncon/dubcon, and other untagged triggers. Please take this into account before proceeding. It is up to curate your online consumption safely.

Summary: you neighbour is too helpful, and too nosy, for your liking, but he's not your only problem.

Characters: Tommy Miller, Joel Miller

Author’s Note: Please feel free to leave some feedback, reblog, and jump into my asks. I’m always happy to discuss with you and riff on idea. As always, you are cherished and adored! Stay safe, be kind, and treat yourself💜

“You fixed it,” you say bluntly as you approach the fence. 

Tommy looks up from his knees, yanking out the deep roots of a weeds as his hair falls forward over his shining forehead. He quorks his head and narrows his eyes with a grin. He does that a lot. Smile. Especially when there’s no reason for it. 

“Fixed what? The hole in your life?” He winks. 

You don’t know what that means. You frown. 

“The birdhouse. My birdhouse,” you say. 

“Oh, uh, yeah. Saw that squirrel messing around the other day,” he shrugs and tosses the weed into the open compost bag. “What’s a nail or two and some paint?” 

“How much?” You ask. 

“What?” Now he looks confused. 

“For the work. Twenty? Fifty?” You offer. 

“Nothing. I’m being neighbourly,” he insists. 

You stare at him. Neighbourly. That’s what he calls all the unnecessary things he does. Like when he mows your lawn before you can or greased the rust hinge on your gate. Can’t he ask like a normal person? 

“I didn’t ask for it.” 

“I know,” he blows out between his lips, “it’s just a nice thing to do.” 

“But why?” You press. 

“Because I’m nice? I don’t know,” he’s further perplexed as he swoops back his hair. “You’re welcome, by the way.” 

“Thanks,” you take the prompt, “but I still never asked you to do that.” 

“Uh huh,” he nods as he raises one brow. “Well, if it’s better, I can go back and break it again.” 

You consider the offer, “no, that’s fine. The birds need to eat.” 

“Right,” his eyes search you and he smiles again. “Next time I promise, I’ll be sure to ask.” 

You back away and go back to your porch. You don’t get him. The worst thing about having your own place is the people. Why do they have to be so concerned with you? Why can’t they just let you be? Is the fence not a good enough signal? 

You go back through the house and onto the back deck. You sit on the top step to watch the red and grey cardinal couple peck at the suet and seed. That’s your favourite thing to do. You find the feathers pretty and their songs soothing. Birds are much better than people. 

As the evening wiles away, growing cooler and softer, and you mourn the waning time. Back to work tomorrow. Not that it’s very far. Just in your home office. Still, you’ll be pent up inside in front of a screen. It’s hardly stimulating. 

You yawn and make yourself get up. You’ll barbeque the chicken skewers and some veggies. You go inside to get all the fixings you need. You come out and light the grill, breathing in the pollen and hint of moisture in the air. 

You hear voices as the barbeque heats up. You lay the skewers and roasting pan on the grill and close the lid. The smell is comforting to you. It reminds you of your late father. 

“Huh, Tommy, see you’re still crashing into things,” a gristly voice comes from the other side of the fence as the loose slat is wiggled. You grimace. Looks like your neighbour has company. “Couldn’t put a nail gun to this thing?” 

“Oh yeah, the nail gun I lent to you,” Tommy chirps back. “Joel, leave it alone.” 

You wiggle the long tongues in your grip. You always thought of fixing it yourself but always forget. You’re surprised your handy neighbour hasn’t already, considering he could come right through and touch your birdhouse. Now you think of it, how did he even get to it? 

You glare at the loose slat. Ah. That could be the possible reason for his procrastination. The slat moves and a face appears in the space as it’s twisted on the loose nails. A man you vaguely recognises peers through. He comes to Tommy’s often. 

“Smells good over there,” he comments as he peers into your lawn. 

You don’t say anything. Why is he doing that? You should tell him to mind his business but that isn’t polite. Even if your father would have laughed. 

He hesitates before he drops the slat straight and retreats into his brother’s yard. You hear a whistle and low grumble. You can’t make out his words. 

“She don’t want you peepin’ on her,” Tommy chortles, “what? My steak isn’t good enough for ya?” 

“You overcook it. No one wants your grey slabs,” the other man, Joel, rebuffs. 

“Oh, is that why you drink all my beer?” 

“Gotta moisten it up.” 

“Whatever,” Tommy mutters. 

You hear his footsteps as he climbs his deck steps. That’s another problem. After last year’s cacophonous renovation, his deck is high enough that he can see you over the top of the fence. A privacy fence! 

“Hello, neighbour,” he calls over the sound of his barbecue lighting, “what’s for dinner tonight?” 

You glance over at him and back to the grill. You lift the lid and turn the skewers, stirring around the veggies on the pan. You close it and hang the tongues as you look out at the bird feeder. They’ve scared them all away. 

“Ha, looks like I’m not the only one she wants nothing to do with,” Joel remarks as the tab of a can cracks, “you ever get anything good? These craft beers taste like scum.” 

“You didn’t complain last week,” Tommy grumbles and shakes his head, approaching the rail of his deck, “smells like chicken.” 

You roll your eyes. You really don’t want to be rude. You just want to enjoy your time alone. 

“Yep, chicken,” you confirm as you sit on the chair against the house siding and put your sunglasses on. You can feel him watching you. 

“Delicious, you know, I make this Mexican chicken--” 

“Ah, Tommy, lay it on thicker,” Joel snorts, “look at her. She’s tryna block you out. The sun’s gone.” 

Is it that obvious? You turn your face away, embarrassed. Tommy sniffs and clacks his own pair of tongues, “uh, anyway, have a good night, neighbour.” 

“We’ll try to keep it down,” Joel adds dryly as he pulls Tommy back by his arm. 

You chew your lip and stare through the dark lenses. You wonder if you could get a bigger awning to block him out or something. You’ve dealt with mice and ants and wasps, but you still can’t get rid of that one pest. Just like the others, he only seems to multiply. 

[eyes-of-laura-mars]

[80sheaven]

Madonna “Who’s That Girl” album - advert from Smash Hits Aug 1987

[itsblosseybitch]

Who's That Girl cast photo, with Madonna and Griffin Dunne.

[mydarlinginej]

read my full review of you belong with me by mhairi mcfarlane here.

International bestseller Mhairi McFarlane delivers a charming, hilarious, and heartfelt new novel about a woman adjusting to life in the spotlight when she begins a relationship with a famous actor, in this highly anticipated follow-up to Who’s That Girl.

She found The One. But when everyone wants him, can she keep him?

Edie found true love. And on Christmas day, he’s knocking at her door.

Elliot Owen is handsome, charming and basically Hollywood royalty. And, he insists, madly in love with Edie an ordinary citizen with tomato soup stains on her coat. It’s going to be complicated. Edie will have to learn how to live in the limelight, but they’re just too good together not to try.

Edie discovers it’s not easy when the press is the third person in your relationship, or when stories start leaking that force you to mistrust the motives of those around you. It’s tricky when you’re separated by an ocean and gorgeous co-stars and charismatic new colleagues are closer by. It’s harder still when your past is raked up by envious people determined to destroy your present.

Edie already knows how it feels to be infamous, now she’s going to find out what it’s like to be famous.

Are she and Elliot a fairytale, or a cautionary fable about getting what you wish for?

my review:

While Who’s That Girl? wasn’t my first Mhairi McFarlane book, it was the one that introduced me to her. By that I mean I read the summary before it was released and become obsessed, but since it wasn’t out yet, I turned to her backlist first. Anyways, Who’s That Girl? has always been one of my favorite of her works and I have been absolutely begging for a sequel since 2016 (see: my Goodreads review). When the announcement for You Belong With Me dropped, I was on my knees screaming. Unfortunately though, this ended up being a lesson in getting what you want and then realizing what you actually needed.

By no means do I mean that I didn’t like this book because I really, really did! You Belong With Me is honestly one of McFarlane’s funniest books yet; I laughed out loud at so many scenes, and her dialogue was at peak wittiness, which is saying something. Who’s That Girl? has been one of my comfort reads for so long, and I really loved returning to this cast of characters.

read the rest of my review here:

[stripped-2]

Madonna at her release party for her album Music, 2000.

[makemerainbows]

Happy birthday to Madonna!

[dull-crayons]

hi! i got a non-sanrio related wallpaper request! i do consider myself a sanrio blog, but i LOVE new girl and couldn't resist. this was an anonymous request. (:

♡ 🅁🄴🅀🅄🄴🅂🅃🅂 🄰🄻🅆🄰🅈🅂 🅆🄴🄻🄲🄾🄼🄴 ♡

- 🎀ıllıllı❁𝓬𝓲𝓷𝓷𝓪𝓶𝓸𝓻𝓸𝓵𝓵 𝓮𝓷𝓽𝓱𝓾𝓼𝓲𝓪𝓼𝓽 ❁ıllıllı🎀

ᶠᵒˡˡᵒʷ ᵐᵉ ᵒⁿ ⁱⁿˢᵗᵃᵍʳᵃᵐ @ ᵈᵘˡˡ.ᶜʳᵃʸᵒⁿˢ

ᶠᵒˡˡᵒʷ ᵐᵉ ᵒⁿ ᵗᵘᵐᵇˡʳ

[lyssahumana]

[emarttt]

Why is no one talking about that girl from my own house who's a total b*tch ???

"Wonderful. I could do it myself but I don't want to"

What are you even doing in hufflepuff girl??? I've never heard about her before but I'm sad I do now

Next to her, imelda is a sweet cheep wtf

[eyes-of-laura-mars]

[devorahnoir]

Actually took a photo I like 💜

[schlock-luster-video]

On October 1, 1991, Who's That Girl? was released on VHS in Czechoslovakia.

[femaleziegfeld]

subscribe to my substack bitchisss xx