#etc etc nobody wants to be a department chair but this is taking it to the next level

[qqueenofhades]

My former department chair, who finally stepped down after 4+ years of intensive, underpaid department-chairing work, who still has a full slate of courses to teach in two different programs, all the advisees in one of those programs, and the usual institutional gimcrackery to deal with: I have been freed from the terrors of being a department chair, it's time to do something fun and relaxing, like a law degree!

[hanhonymous]

The Trainee’s workplace authenticity

One of my favorite things about workplace TV shows is when the characters actually do work. AND when the details of such work are not only relatively accurate, but also essential to how the characters relate to themselves, the world and each other. So far, "The Trainee" is giving that to me in the first two episodes.

Having interned/been an assistant at a TV production company and later moving to entertainment journalism and managing interns/junior writers there, I can appreciate both Ryan's and Jane's POVs. Here's what I liked so far:

Good Pick's pink tube slide and movie theater seats in the lobby - A lot of these entertainment-adjacent companies take a cue from Silicon Valley and have this frivolous, frat-boy design aesthetic -- bean bag chairs, foosball tables, etc. I worked in an office that had a ping-pong table. The idea is to make it fun enough that people want to stay in the office and work longer, which isn't really all that great. You stop seeing that fun stuff after a while and just want to get home. That said, I'd love to work in a company with a fire pole in it, but that would be too much of a liability.

Ryan's fluke hiring - Baimon totally hearing what he wants to hear from Ryan in that sham interview is hilarious but sadly not all that unusual. What sucks is that this is unfair to the manager who then must work with the unqualified person, and unfair to that person hired also, who isn't the best fit for the position. I've been the person saddled by the unfortunate hire and have had to make do … and sometimes you can figure it out, but often you're left doing extra work to make up for their deficits. If it's just an intern, no problem -- they'll be gone in a few months. I felt Jane's pain!

Ryan's uncertainty & silence - That said, Ryan clearly wants to do well but is out of his depth since this was not even what he was learning in school. I remember the first day as a journalist for a small company where I kind of was on my own, and nobody told me what to do. I was like, "WTF??" Part of you doesn't want to ask questions lest you expose your imposter identity, but you're also wondering just how long you can do nothing before someone notices.

The printer always breaks down -- always. You get pretty good at troubleshooting everything until resorting to calling a technician

Jane's prickly demeanor - The fact is that in any company, people who are competent can move up, but that doesn't automatically infuse them with good managerial skills. I think workshops, etc. are a must for anyone who gets promoted and suddenly have people reporting to them. Everyone can get frustrated when they're overwhelmed, so I do have some sympathy for Jane. He does have one skill that I think is essential to be a good manager: identifying and acknowledging the strengths of an employee. It really makes all the difference that he finally sees Ryan as an asset, not a hindrance.

Ryan's skills aren't that bad at all - As soon as Ryan tells his family that he's no help to anyone at work, he immediately shows five different ways how much he's relied on by his family. Yes, people who are competent, reliable and can anticipate needs (like how his sister needs to be reminded to charge the battery after using the camera) will be able to apply those skills to other situations and can go far. Ryan just needs to familiarize himself with the industry first in order to know how he can fill in the gaps. (I believe in being able to change careers and taking big pivots in life.)

The interns banding together - OMG I remember sometimes just being unsupervised while trying to get a project together, and there is a strange bond you have being the youngest and least experienced. And you do have the most stupid conversations.

Being one cog in a bigger machine - I really appreciate how they show all the different departments that have to come together to make one project work -- especially when last-minute changes need to be implemented or a persnickety client has opinions. You complain, you worry, you put in extra late hours and have to make 11th-hour fixes -- but it's so satisfying to see it all come together. Shit goes down, and you fix it.

Hiring extras - The hiring of extras at Good Pick was different from what I've experienced. I actually have been an extra, and what I'm used to is being part of a company or agency that has you in their database, and then you get picked or cast by that company and sent to your gig. But that's in Hollywood and for TV shows & movies. It's probably different for ad houses or in Thailand, but I did like how they showed that it is still a casting process. There are deliberate decisions made, and certain looks sought out. I thought it was hilarious that Ryan's first thought for hiring the salaryman was to get an uncle from the same restaurant as the auntie. If he had his way, everyone in that restaurant would be hired for some gig or another.

Ryan getting scammed by the extra - I was screaming at Ryan as soon as he offered to pay that scammer extra. Just … no, boy. You had to have known that was shady. BUT despite being duped, he was willing to think on his feet and try to solve a problem by being proactive, and that does happen. And so do mistakes. He just needs to calibrate his radar for what is OK. (I'm glad Jane saw that.) Ryan is lucky that it only cost him 1,000 baht for that lesson.

Extras must be on hand and wait - OK this is a scene in the preview for Episode 3, but I was so happy to see it: Extras in Hollywood actually cannot just spend 5 minutes or whatever to do their job, even if that's how much you see them onscreen. There's a ton of hurry up and wait on film sets, and so extras have to stay in Holding -- usually just a designated area with some chairs (sometimes you get tables) -- until you're needed. And production schedules never run on time, so it can be hours or even days. You're lucky if you're there long enough to get a meal, if the temperature is nice, if you're able to make friends with the others and if there's wifi. Sometimes you bring your own clothes for wardrobe based on what you're told, and sometimes the wardrobe department supplements your wardrobe with extra pieces to help complete a specific look. And yeah, you're not able to leave except for the bathroom, so Ryan definitely shouldn't have let that one extra wander off.

"Ryan After Work" - I like these post-credit sequences that give extra insights into the job. And while the first one was more instructional, explaining how the production house differed from an agency, the second was more about the cohort camaraderie (and hinting at Ryan's positive feelings toward Jane). I hope the romance aspect of the show doesn't overshadow the work specificity going forward!

[agapi-kalyptei]

Melon Husk microservice rant

Anyway, as someone who introduced Kubernetes and microservices into my company, I have oPiNiOnS on Fraud Rapey Narcissist Billionaire Poster Boy's tweet about "microservices bloatware" and "only <20% needed to run twitter".

First of all, the fact that he can even entertain turning them off without months of refactoring is because they're microservices. No architecture is ever perfect, as even megacorps have time, budget and staffing constraints, but in most cases, groups of microservices are reasonably independent, so scaling them down without breaking the whole site IS why the "bloatware" is so incredibly useful.

OK, let me backtrack. What are microservices?

In very simplified terms, people used to write one big pile of software all together, and then scale it (i.e. grow to millions of users) mostly by putting the identical software on 1000 machines. This has some benefits, as in pre-Kubernetes era, it generally meant "install linux, one programming language, libraries and one copy of the Software" and you could just run one script on a 1000 machines to install and run the software. Another benefit is that you can (have to) reuse the code, so if one dev writes a syllable counting routine, you can write a haiku bot simply by reusing that existing code (if you can find it at all... if it suits your needs... etc).

This became incredibly painful when you want to quickly add a new feature with a new programming language, or a new version of some 3rd party (usually open source) library that can, idk, run an AI to detect your hobbies based on the images you post, while the main software uses an old version of that library that can only analyze text posts, and it must be exactly version 1.0.3c or things will start exploding (unrealistic example, but not as unrealistic as you might think - anyway you get the concept).

It's like... running a company. Being a CEO and wearing a formal jacket. And since it works for you, you say "ok everyone needs to wear a formal jacket because it's super comfy to me. and we all need to work in the same room because this is where i'm most productive". And then like a cook or a janitor have to wear a tuxedo to work, crowded in one big cold factory floor. Awkward. That's the old "big blog of software all together" mentality.

So instead you say "every department decides what's their dress code, as long as it gets the job done". So that's microservices. Different departments doing their job specifically, in a way that works for them. But you have a new issue, how to divide the factory floor into rooms.

In 2015, Kubernetes changed the face of computing forever. It literally is like someone invented rooms. We had cubicles before, sure, but nobody loved them, except for the people who made cubicles. So now we have a way of saying "I need a room for 3 people with 3 desks and 4 chairs" and the room comes to exist, and then you put 3 "people" it in - let's say this is the Login Room, one person checks people's passwords, another person checks for fraudulent activity, and one person sends you, say, an SMS code when logging in.

Elon just came in with a shotgun and shot the SMS guy. But it's salvageable, because we have DNA of the SMS guy and we can just clone him. We don't need the touch the passwords guy or the fraud prevention guy, because microservices are, by their design philosophy, as independent as reasonably possible.

I am running out of energy to address the "bloatware" side of arguments, but let's just say if the 3 login guys have to communicate, it takes some overhead. Maybe there's a different department, like Legal Requirements, that sometimes goes "this user requested their data to be deleted forever as is their GDPR right" and they send a message to the Login department, and then all 3 login guys read the message and delete a line from their spreadsheets.

If you want to delete the "80% that's not needed to run {a website}" then you can just take a flamethrower and torch everyone in the Legal Department because you have shown no respect for any legislation, state or person who disagrees with your unrestrained megalomaniac ego, so the Login Room guys can still grind away at their desk, they just stopped receiving messages from Legal.

The "bloatware" is what makes adding or removing features much easier.

~~~

OK but seriously. It genuinely looks like Musk is trying real hard to run Twitter to the ground. My guess is that if Twitter loses a hundred million users and loses all advertisers, then he can declare bankruptcy and go "OOPS I tried my best. i'm a business genius, def not my fault" and bail out on paying back the bank loans he got to pay for twitter.

He'll only lose what he invested himself, but it still would be less than what he'd have to pay if he lost the court case against twitter which would prove that he attempted pump&dump on twitter stock. Still, I hope there's jail time awaiting him very soon. & for what it's worth, I hope the "retired" twitter devs will find new exciting jobs, and a new internet home on tumblr. May you write many more glorious microservices.

[cosmickyeom]

seventeen, medical!au! ⋆ ﹕₊˚ hip hop unit as medical specialties!

content warning: hospital and other medical-related themes

⋆ ﹕₊˚ seungcheol, orthopedic surgery ⋆ this used to be a no-brainer speciality and is now one of the most competitive and difficult specialities to get matched into ⋆ the sweetest ortho-bro you will ever meet in your life ⋆ generally pretty laid-back and most of the staff harbor a huge crush on him ⋆ but switches to business mode when his cases start ⋆ does not allow foul language or other toxic behavior in his operating room, will not hesitate to kick people out ⋆ he definitely has a routine he needs to follow before each case and gets incredibly whiny when someone pages or interrupts him, forcing him to start over ⋆ the kind of doctor to buy food for the students and residents that follow him, he just wants them to think he's cool ⋆ learns new slang and the trends from his students and then uses them incorrectly around the other members ⋆ can be found in the emergency department with hoshi, radiology department with jihoon, or in the break room trying to beat jeonghan and wonwoo at games ⋆ ﹕₊˚ wonwoo, general surgery ⋆ all the years of video games have helped him with his quick reaction times and dexterity. he's very calculated and intentional with everything he does ⋆ especially loves doing surgery with the robot, feels like he's getting paid to play games ⋆ the surgery department holds an annual olympics event where they set up fun events related to their specialty (suturing weird things, trivia, etc) ⋆ wonu definitely beat seungcheol during all suturing events because of his quick and nimble fingers ⋆ refuses to let seungcheol live it down ⋆ also refuses to fulfill the "dumb surgeon" stereotype ⋆ unlike his peers, he actually clocks in a lot of time interacting with patients and learning about their disease states, often consults internal medicine doctor mingyu ⋆ can usually be found in the break room playing video games on his phone between cases ⋆ at the start of each cohort, someone (anesthesiologist jeonghan) spreads a rumor to all the residents and students that he's actually a robot and is only as capable and smart as he is because he gets a system update each night when he plugs himself into the outlet. jeonghan isn't allowed to interact with the residents any more ⋆ ﹕₊˚ mingyu, internal medicine ⋆ jack of all trades, he's super smart and good at everything, plus goes out of his way to learn a little bit from the other specialities ⋆ he gets along with all of the elderly patients because he gets to swap recipes and other fun life hacks with them, but also gets hit on A LOT. ⋆ hands down, the worst doctor to get ahold of/find because ⋆ 1) he's got long ass legs and is able to scale the entire ward in a few steps OR ⋆ 2) he's sleeping somewhere where he isn't supposed to be and nobody has knows when's the last time they saw him. ⋆ was once confused for a family member because he fell asleep in a chair in a patient's room after exchanging home recipes with each other and was only found because his pager wouldn't stop beeping ⋆ still strikingly good looking even after pulling 18 hour shifts HELLO ⋆ nurses have genuinely considered putting a gps tracker in his shoe or in his white coat, but couldn't get it approved by the ethics committee

⋆ ﹕₊˚ hansol, pathology ⋆ home boy is in a world by himself... and his trusty microscope ⋆ he and jihoon have weekly therapy sessions where they complain and rant about how the other members keep busting into their respective offices for menial things ⋆ takes photos of cool stains and samples that he sees and sends it to the group chat, only for everyone to be so far distanced from their last histology course that they have no idea what he's freaking out about most of the time ⋆ the only person who knows what's up in the group chat is joshua, the hospital dermatologist ⋆ somewhat appreciates emergency doctor hoshi's comments about the cool colors and funny shapes ⋆ super chill, doesn't take offense when people ask him to reinterpret samples ⋆ the pathology lab always has the best music playing in it, especially when hansol's working. sometimes, can be found hunched over a microscope with earbuds in, or his personal playlist is softly playing in the background ⋆ literally vibing

[wthtorke]

Presence.

Angst with a happy ending for @death0core​ !

Big Mama x Reader, 1755 words, warning for violence, blood etc

Hope you like it!

At first, you hadn't really given Big mama much credit in the emotional department. 

You met in about the worst way possible when she stopped her wandering about the galaxy to answer to your distress signal on a planet that was crawling with aliens. With xenomorphs, you'd later come to know.

She saved your day and dropped you and the other, very frightened, 6 people who survived at the nearest space station. Bid you goodbye with a single nod of her head and went on her way. 

"Is that all?" You thought, hugging your own arms to stop their shaking and bleeding from the slashing wound on your left arm. An alien-, a yautja had just saved your life, but not a word was traded, not one kind gesture, not one "are you well?", things didn't….happen like that. 

You frowned to yourself, thinking about it hard while the station's security team contacted your company to come to pick you up. You'd heard a lot about yautjas, you could consider yourself lucky one of them even helped but-, wasn't there always something more? Weren't you supposed to talk? Become friends? Maybe? 

You recall her big form sat on her chair at the cockpit, big hands never leaving the controllers at the panel, gaze never turning back to check on you or the other humans huddled at the back of her ship. It was so….cold, distant. You don't share it with anyone, you knew the emotional support you needed wouldn't come from an alien, but you heard so many stories about them, stories about humans and yautjas who found comfort in each other, the human finding stability while the yautja found kindness and understanding. 

Where had your stability gone to, after she nodded at you and left? 

You suck it up well enough, the weight of being a survivor crushed on you. You were alone the whole process, nobody cared.

In the end, after explaining time and time again what happened to your company, after going through countless interviews where you relived the attack time and time again, you were fired. 

It wasn't fair, definitely not. Another blow to your mental health that had you clinging to anything to whatever little comfort you could. You gather your things and the credits from your last job with them, plus the 'don't talk about the attack' money they bribed you with. It was either the credits or disappearing after a week as it happened with one of your fellow survivors who refused the money. You just wanted to leave.

You shut down when you get on a commercial flight somewhere, getting real rest for the first time in god knows how long. You had no idea where the last stop was, but you'd only get down there. 

Ironically enough, you find yourself descending the ramp and find the exact same view you did when she rescued you. The same space station. Andromeda.

It takes a couple of shoves from people behind you to get you to move, clutching your bag close as you make your way out there. You had enough credits to get you a break, you didn't need to work right away-, but being alone was too much to bear, so you rent a small apartment and get to find a job. 

Weeks pass and you're now working on the maintenance of the station, the orange jumpsuit, and a card with your name hanging at your pocket granting you access just about anywhere. You still feel odd. The friends you make are shallow almost, with no real connections outside of your work. You work, get home, eat, shower and sleep, waking up to work more the next day. Being too tired makes you not dream, it's what you strive for, keeps the nightmares at bay.

You're wanted at the hangar one morning, there's something wrong with one of the docking slots, so you take your toolbox and walk up to it. The ship that tried to dock on it docks on the side one. You'd recognize the ship anywhere, though the last time you saw it was in this same port, flying away from you. 

You blink a couple of times, setting your toolbox near the broken dock’s panels, crouching down to mess with it, though you make no further move, waiting for her to show up. Waiting for her to leave the ship. Soon enough, the ship’s ramp lowers and the internal hatch lifts with loud mechanical noises and some steam blowing from the exhaust pipes of the ship. 

You hear the steps before she comes into view, same armor, same mask, though both now bore more marks than you remembered. It was her. Big Mama. At first, you didn’t know her name, not even that information came to you without some asking around, the station’s head of security, a human woman with scars similar to yours said her name. Her human name.

‘Big mama’, you thought, scoffing at the time. That name implied some type of motherly instinct, you had found none within her. Still, you bit your lip when she made her way down her ship’s ramp, messing with what you also came to know was a wrist gauntlet. Should you talk to her? You didn’t know. Back on the rescue, she didn’t answer you, even if she had, would you have known what she was saying? Maybe not, but her efforts would have meant something. Anything.

You touch the translator lodged into your ear channel. Every staff member had one, no matter what area they worked in the station. You could try again, maybe this time she would listen and answer? You look down at your toolbox, frowning. What would you even say to her? Tell her how you wished she had stuck around and what? Held your hand through everything? You already felt silly enough thinking an alien who saved you should have cared more. All of this was so fucking stupid.

“Human.” 

Your head shoots up again, Big Mama stood beside you. 

Your mouth opens and closes a couple of times like a fish out of water, trying to find the words to answer to her. What was happening? Could she always speak your language? Why didn’t she back then? Why now?.... Did she really remember you at all? 

“I-, yes, hello?” You say, still unsure. 

Her mask tuns slightly, towards your left arm. “I wondered if it had healed well.” She says, the voice is robotic, almost like an AI, words mashed together to create phrases. You frown again, confused, “Why would you care?” It’s a genuine question, not meant to be snappy or angry, you really needed to know. 

She crosses her arms, “I tried looking for you, when I came back, you were gone.” She says as you get up from your crouching, “Came back? What do you mean?” Your heartbeat faster at her words, that chest tightness that came with anxiety crushing your chest from inside out. “My bio mask had a malfunction when I found your distress signal, I was returning to get it fixed when I brought you here.” She explains, your heart feels like it’s about to burst.

“So, what’s why you didn’t say anything? Your-, I thought you just…didn’t care? You left us here so we thought that was it, the station helped us contact the corporation and they sent another ship to get us.” You say, Big Mama’s mask nodding as you speak.

“I got my mask fixed and returned to you, without it fixed I couldn’t communicate to anyone that wasn’t one of my kind. I can’t speak your language.” she continues, “I thought you had perished from your wounds, an infection maybe, but I was informed other humans came to transfer you somewhere, but they wouldn’t tell me where to.” 

You run your hand through your face, a cold sweat running down your cheek, “The company demanded we don’t speak of the occurrence, I made a deal and everything-, they must have informed the station to keep their mouths shut, I-, I couldn’t imagine you’d return, I had no idea-, you had no reason to.” You say, as bitter as that makes you feel, it’s the truth.

Big Mama shakes her head, “You survived a serpent attack, you told me at your ship that you managed to take down two but there were many others-,” Your eyes widen, “How do you know if your mask wasn’t working?”

She taps the edge of her mask, where three red dots rest in the shape of a triangle, you recall her using it to shoot the things, “I recorded everything, should the rescue fail, my people needed to know what happened, later I translated your words. I already had plans to return, but after knowing what you were saying, I knew I had to find you again.” She says. “You are a human hunter, deserver of bearing my people’s mark for your success. But your wellbeing is not of my interest for that fact.” 

You freeze. “My-, wellbeing? Then why-?” 

Big mama shakes her head, “I wish things were different in how they happened, had you been here when I returned, we could have talked.” She says, “You wouldn’t have been alone.” 

At this, you feel tears well up in your eyes. She cared, all this time and you had no idea. Things could have been just how you wanted if fate wasn’t so cruel. “I wished you were here so bad-, I don’t know why I got so attached to you but I did-, I-,” you rub at your eyes, wiping the tears away, “I thought I’d never see you again.” 

Big Mama nods, “I had also lost hopes of knowing your whereabouts….but it seems the gods have not wanted so.” she says, extending her hand to you, “From now on you shall not be alone. You have in me a partner, I will support you in your healing.” You grab her hand, her fingers alone engulfing your smaller hand, for the first time in months you smile, a relieved smile, full of hope.

Big Mama sticks around the station for a couple of weeks while you work, coming back and forth from hunts and missions until you both decide it’s time to move on. You quit your job at the station, looking at it one last time before making your way up to Big Mama’s ship, your bag slung on your shoulder, ready for your future with her.

[littlemisslipbalm]

“you make me so angry sometimes”

idk if this gif makes sense, but i feel like it will if you read the story, it just gives me that vibe. 

A one shot I cooked up idk, it’s about Harry and a makeup artist on DWD, it’s quite angsty, idk how that happened, it’s also very long, idk how that happened either, maybe i do a part 2, maybe i don’t idk lmk. Feedback is appreciated, not proofread. REBLOGS help writers tremendously and i love reading whatever you write in the tags its my favorite thing!! Love yall and Merry Christmas!

Word Count: 17.7k | Warnings: ENEMIES to LOVERS! swearing, angst!, some anxiety -like self-doubt, yn being mean to harry kind of a lot, i dont remember, nothing too crazy, Nick Kroll?, lots of conversation

-

When she pictured herself as a makeup artist in Los Angeles, she hadn’t pictured exactly what she was doing right now.

She had expected doing gorgeous makeup for gorgeous actresses or doing wildly fun stuff like in Euphoria. And because of that she had worked her ass off to get where she was today. She had practiced for hours, worked countless hours for free, and networked to the cows came fucking home.

So why the fuck was she using tattoo-strength concealer to cover up the maybe 60 tattoos some asshole musician turned actor had all over?

Don’t Worry Darling was her first major film to work on so she couldn’t complain. She was happy to simply be there. Well she had been. The first day she had showed up 15 minutes early and had worn her favorite power suit she had. It was dark navy with a white lace long sleeve turtleneck underneath. She hoped to look fun but professional.

Hollywood was all about impressions, especially first ones, even when you’re the makeup artist. She had quickly learned that she was one of six makeup artists. One of them being the friend who had helped her get the job, Angie. Angie was like her surrogate mother in Los Angeles that she had met on her first film job for something much less high profile than Olivia Wilde’s second directing project. Her braided grey hair and fabulous jeans had drawn Y/N right in and they had connected instantly.

Since Y/N was deemed the most inexperienced by the head of the makeup department, she was relegated to easier jobs: assisting the other artists on main characters sometimes, mostly dealing with minor characters touch ups (and full make-up if she was lucky), and the job nobody wanted: tattoo coverage.

Harry Styles was one of the leads for the film and besides his minimal acting, everyone knew he was a worldwide rockstar. With the rock and roll life starting off as a popstar life at the ripe age of 16, he had amassed around 60 tattoos in the past decade. Impressive by her standard normally. She usually counted herself as an appreciator of tattoos and their art, finding them similar to makeup and the self expression that came with both forms. Especially since she had a few of her own, but when she walked into Trailer #6 and saw a good amount of Harry’s tattoos, she wanted to murder every artist he’d ever been to.

She had to make an inventory the first day of all of his visible tattoos when he was just wearing boxers. He had been friendly, trying to make conversation, but as the time wore on, they both grew tired and silent. She had to write down the location and a description of every tattoo and as he took off everything but boxers she grew more and more annoyed with his random and dumb tattoos. Some of them were amazing, the eagle, the anchor, the butterfly, and the ferns were probably her favorites. But some of them, she couldn't hold back her rolling eyes and annoyed expressions. The “Big” on his right big toe, a miniscule lock, almost everything on his inner left arm (the packers logo, Pingu, etc.)

She traces at the rose and the ship and then flips his arm out to reveal his inner arm to her gaze. “That is a big fucking bee.”

He snickers, “Y’like it?”

She ignores his question. “For god’s sake, someone is needle happy,” she said as she examined his left arm, taking note of every permanent drawing.

He shrugs his right shoulder, uninhibited by her prodding. “Dunno, beginning to regret some of them.”

“I would hope,” she mutters, scribbling on her paper the various ones she had just seen on his arm. Next was his ribcage ones.

He scoffs, “Oi, it’s not like you haven’t got any.”

“How would you-” She looks at him wide eyed.

“Right…” he takes his right hand and pushes her hair past her ear to reveal three little red line butterflies following the curve of her ear, “There. At least.”

She huffs and knocks his hand away from her. Her hair falling back into its place.

“Maybe some located in a few more intimate places I’m guessing from the red rushing to your cheeks right now.”

“Can you just let me do my job,” she says, not giving in to his teasing or sparing him a glance as she feels his intense gaze on her face. She was studying his left rib cage where a few cool tattoos happened to be.

“You at least have some taste or persuasive artists because not all of these are shit,” she speaks again after just the sound of her pen on the paper filled the trailer.

“Gee, thanks,” he laughs unamused and rolls his large green eyes.

She thought he had some of the biggest eyes she’d ever seen. But she also knew to keep that to herself because he’d either take it as a compliment and think she was noticing him too much or he’d take it as a massive insult and get her fired.

His right hand taps at his thigh, tapping a rhythm she didn’t care to pay any attention too. She just wanted to finish the stupid inventory of the stupid tattoos on this stupid man.

“Take those off,” she says to Harry, looking back at her clipboard again, filling up quickly with her notes.

He stands there, staring at her stubbornly. He was entirely bored with this exercise, especially since his company was some of the worst he’s ever had. She spares him a glance when she doesn’t notice any slipping off of the colorful sweatpants he’s wearing.

She arches a brow at him, her pen tapping impatiently against the paper. “Go on. Can’t imagine you want this to go on longer than it already has.”

He rolls his eyes again, slipping his thumbs into the waistline of the pants and tugging down. Simultaneously, he toes off the dirty vans he seemed to wear everywhere. The fabric pools easily and he steps out of them and discards them on the couch behind him. He’s actually wearing black briefs. She chooses not to notice anything further than that.

“Socks...can stay on,” She tries to say as he begins to peel one off. He stops midway and nods.

She flings his shirt to him, not needing to see his naked torso for another moment, “I know you’ve got some feet and ankle tats, but I also know that you won’t be wearing anything that will expose them. Thank your lucky stars that I don’t have to makeup your feet.”

He catches the shirt easily and slips his arms inside before tugging it quickly over his head and over his expansive shoulders. The ferns disappear out of sight.

“Well then we’re almost done then. Just got the knee ones -”

“And the tiger. That’s gonna be one son of a bitch,” she sighs and examines his legs, not bothering to crouch.

“What the actual fuck dude?” Her tone is exasperate and like she would rather be anywhere else than here.

“I’m sorry?” He sputters, hands on his hips and eyes bewildered.

“Yes. No. Oui. Non. Who are you?” She rubs at her eyes and shakers her head.

“S’a little rude.”

“You’re right,” she semi-rushes out at his serious tone, ready to apologize. When a grin spreads over his face and he chuckles under his breath she really wants to smack him upside the head. He was exhausting. “You’re unbelievable.”

“Thought it was funny at the time. Kind of think it’s even funnier now since it’s got you all mad.” He leans over her shoulder to look at her notes and when she glances at him unhappily he just looks smug.

“Alright,” she finishes the scribble of a description and clicks the end of her pen, “All done. You can get dressed. I’ll see you bright and early for tattoo makeup. It’s gonna take about an hour to do all this, just so you can mentally prepare for that.”

“It was nice to meet you,” he attempts at a friendly and professional farewell. “See you tomorrow…” he trails off as he watches her turn on her heel and walk out of the trailer door swiftly. The door swung shut and bounced a little bit in her wake.

Harry sighed and adjusted his clothes and hair in the mirror. After a moment he shakes his head, an even louder sigh escaping him.

-

“Good morning!” She greets happily, walking into the trailer without a knock. Well-rested and happy at least that she doesn’t have to just inspect a body, she looks around the trailer.

She realizes no one is there and she’s taken aback. First of all, if Harry wasn’t there then he shouldn’t have left his trailer unlocked. And second, he was fucking late, the fucking twat.

She grumbles, setting her coffee on the countertop. She closes her eyes and takes a deep breath. “In through the nose, out through the mouth” she mutters. She knew this was a big opportunity and having a big star like Harry in her corner could make her career. She needed them to get off on a better foot today.

“Good form, I’d say relax the shoulders a little more,” the door swings open carrying the California twang-British accent that she would soon become all too accustomed to.

Harry points at her shoulders and narrows his eyes regarding her in the trailer. She offers a strained smile through the mirror and Harry sets down his personal things on the couch.  

“Alright, well let’s get started shall we,” she smiles and turns to him, gesturing to the swivel chair next to her.

He nods, a twinkle in his eye as he regards her. He’s unsure of the tone and attitude she’s giving him today. She had been feisty yesterday, cordial at times, but mostly biting and witty. He had liked it. It had made the whole ordeal bearable whereas now she seemed to be laying it on a little thick.

“Just your hands and neck today,” she says, pulling out the makeup materials needed and a checklist of the tattoos she needed to make sure were invisible.

“Should only take..a little under an hour today. Just gonna remind you now though, other days we won’t be so lucky.”

Harry chuckles under his breath and rolls his head around his shoulders before sitting in the chair. “Were you tired yesterday?” He inquires.

“Why do you ask?” She throws a glance over her shoulder at Harry. He’s begun slipping off his sweatshirt and yawns as he does it.

“You seem different from yesterday and I’m just wondering which one is the real you.”

She continues working about the room and rolls her eyes to herself, “I’m always the real me. I come no other way, but this morning I woke up and thought ‘this is the job you’ve fucking wanted for ages, so stop being such a bitch so you don’t get fired, you prick’.” She pauses and turns to face Harry. “The ‘you prick’ was directed at me, that was still part of my thought,” she adds.

He throws his head back and laughs. Then he nods, still laughing lightly, “I get that. Sometimes I’m just so in my head and yesterday I was just so fuckin’ bored. Sorry if I got on your nerves.”

“Don’t mention it.” She waves her hand at him nonchalantly.  

Then she moves to inspect his hands and notices the lack of rings, unlike yesterday when she had to make him take them off.

“You have amazing cuticles,” she notices and mentions without any pretences. Harry mutters his thanks, pursing his lips as he watches her work.

She stops her inspection and places the clipboard on the countertop in front of them.

“Could you take your necklaces off? I need to cover up half of the swallows and the years, for when you unbutton your shirt a bit.”

He wets his lips and nods, hands going to fiddle with the clasps behind his neck. He slips off one of the necklaces with ease, a yellow eye beaded necklace that he lays gently on the countertop next to the clipboard. Then he takes his cross and pulls it over his head, no clasp needed.

“Could I put some music on?” Harry asks after five minutes of Y/N working in silence and Harry only being able to stare either at himself, her work, or nowhere.

“I can,” she stops her work for a moment, “Can’t have you messing up the makeup before it sets. Otherwise I’d have to kill you.” Harry can’t be sure if she’s joking or not. Therefore, he was intent on not messing it up.

“Any requests?” She stands at the counter now, instead of seated on a stool working on Harry's left hand.

He shrugs, like he hasn’t got the faintest idea about good music. She refrains from rolling her eyes once again because she feels herself in a test. She wets her lips, sifting through different things in her Spotify and then lands on her playlist titled “it’s your song” named after Elton John’s song. It had some other musicians, a mix of Queen, Bowie, and more and she was sure she would pass the test.

She presses shuffle and She’s Always A Woman by Billy Joel begins to play over her laptop. Harry nods pleased and she wants to shake her head at him.

She can’t hold back the scoff though after a moment of going back to finishing his hand.

“What?” His British accent thickens with his annoyance growing.

“Nothing,” she chirps, intently putting the final touches on his wrist.

“Seriously. What?”

She stands and sets down the makeup. “Can you unbutton your shirt?” She made a note to herself that from now on she’d have to have him take his shirt off before setting to work because if his hands got messed up she’d have to start over. Thankfully he was already wearing a button up this morning.

He stares at her, offering no movement, just inquisitively waiting for her to respond to his original question.

She shuts her eyes, taking another deep breath and then bites at her lower lip. “It’s just...you’re so easy to read.” She fears adding anything else and moves towards him with the makeup hoping to encourage him to unbutton his shirt.  

His right hand deftly pulls at the buttons as he regards her. His eyes are intent on her, she can see him clearly calculating her. Her green paisley button up tucked up into the back of her bra leaving a splay of her stomach. The semi-balloon sleeves cinched at the wrists leading to her slightly ringed hands. The oversized blue jeans that have no holes, just a tiny patch right next to the left pocket. The frayed ends of the pants laying over her rather pristine white old skool vans.

The Boxer fades in as she waits for him to finish the unbuttoning of the shirt. He’s still staring at her.

“Am I?” He finally inquires, voice pitched higher like he doesn’t believe her.

She gives him a serious stare and leans over him and adjusts the collar of his shirt. She adds paper towels to avoid makeup on his clothes.  

“Yes!” She laughs, “And you don’t even think so, which is like...of course.”

He hums, tilting his head back as she sets to work on covering up the swallows. He wiggles his hands that now both rest on the arm chairs.

“I don’t see it.”

“Of course you don’t,” she glances at his face, their eyes meeting for a moment. “You’re Harry Styles. Everyone is in love with this image you created for yourself and it has just enough of your true self that people feel like they really know you, but you also maintain the illusion. So you think you’re this mysteriously amazing, not like the rest guy, but you are just like the rest of them. Obsessed with yourself and rich so you’re deemed eccentric rather than crazy for all the extravagant shit you do. So when you want me to play music and don’t offer any suggestions I know exactly what music I need to play for you to like me.”

“I feel like that last part says more about you than it does me,” he quirks a brow at her, straining his neck to look at her face as she continues to work.

She flushes, his response both better and worse than she expected. She had gotten a little carried away in her response and she had no idea why. She truly wasn’t one to go off on people so easily and especially not with someone she hardly knew, but something about Harry had her on edge. She was just thankful he hadn’t gotten mad at her response, instead he took it in stride. Further proving her point that he was extremely smart and did things purposefully and she saw right through it all.

She grumbles, “It says that all anyone has to do to get close to you is understand the smallest bit about you and you’ll let them in.”

“That is just so completely wrong, Y/N, I hate to break it to you.” It’s Harry rolling his eyes now, unable to move much more of his body as she continues painting on the concealer to remove his tattoos for the movie.

“Fine. Enlighten me on what I got wrong.”

Their argument had all but drowned out their music. They both did love this music and ironically if they would just shut their mouths, they’d probably like each other a lot more.

“Might as well,” he sighs. “First of all, my image is authentic and of course I don’t want to give myself all away. I enjoy my privacy and for everyone to truly know me I’d have to give that up. Which I’m not keen on. So, I regret to inform you but I am the same guy everyone is “in love with”. Second, I know I am a little self-involved, how else would I get here if I wasn’t constantly taking inventory of myself and reevaluating who I am. As a musician, I want to give as much of myself as possible or else it just feels inauthentic. And the extravagant thing, I can’t help that I like nice things and my job has allowed me to afford those things.”

He stops to take a deep breath and she’s working in stunned silence, in disbelief that Harry is even telling her any of this or that he’s spoken that much and so quickly. Wasn’t he notorious for speaking slowly with barely even a sentence worth of actual information. He sounds tired and frustrated, but also, surprisingly, sincere.

He continues, “The music thing. Maybe it was a test, but still it doesn’t mean I give everyone a mile when they say their favorite musicians match up with mine or something. I note that they either did their homework or might be an interesting person to get to know.”

“So which am I?” She widens her eyes.

“Obviously the second even if you’re also making it painfully clear that you don’t like me.”

“You’re smarter than I thought, Harry. I’ll give you that,” she smirks slyly, finishing up the bird coverage now.

He laughs. “Thanks,” he drawls out.

“And I admit that maybe you aren’t as easy to read as I made out, but I think we’re going to have to agree to disagree about the whole being your authentic self. I just don’t buy it. I can see your mind working constantly, you’re not one to just let yourself be free in public. And I’m not saying that’s a bad thing, I’m just saying, you shouldn’t pretend like that’s not what you’re doing.”

Her final thought leaves Harry silent. She pays no attention to his silence or at least she’s actively ignoring it. Instead she tunes back into the music that had gotten them back onto the wrong foot. This was going to be a long few months.

When she’s satisfied with her work, she has them sit there for thirty minutes to give it all time to set before Harry is off to hair and other makeup. They sit there listening to music. Neither of them have spoken again, except instructions from her and Harry’s hums of approval of songs.  

Harry stands up after thirty minutes as she stays behind to pack up some items. Just as he’s about to step out of the door, he turns and calls her name.

“For the record, I don’t think you’re giving me a fair shot. You said yourself that you’re different every day. That every version of you, is you. So I hope you’ll give me the same allowance, every version of me is me. In this trailer, in my music videos, on tv, in interviews, in my free time. It’s all truly me.”

She bites her inner cheek as he ducks his head and exits the trailer, not allowing her any response.

-

“You’re late!”

“Meeting ran over with Nick and Olivia. Sorry,” Harry says as he begins to undress.

It’s the first day she has to cover all of his tattoos. It was going to take forever by all accounts. It had been two weeks since shooting had begun and she had gotten the simple hands and neck down to 45 minutes so she could only dread what his entire body would take.

“It’s fine,” she grumbles, knowing there wasn’t really anything else she could say about him coming late from a meeting with the director and producer.

Over the last two weeks, they hadn’t grown any fonder of one another. Not at all. They at least had gotten into a system though and she was grateful for that at least.

They showed up, Harry got in his chair, she set up the music, and they got to work. Harry would practice lines on some days and he’d tell her that before she turned on the music so there were no interruptions. Sometimes they talked about stuff on set or music or she’d give Harry his line when he was trying to be off script and forgot one. She wouldn’t classify it as pleasant, but they weren’t at each other throats like they were originally.

Trailer 6 had gotten a little homier as the weeks went by, too. Harry began leaving some of his stuff there and he started putting up silly drawings he would make while on set or polaroids people had taken with him while he was there. He tacked up napkins of restaurants that catered the set and wrote funny jokes and quotes on post it notes. His personal assistants sometimes brought in snacks while Y/N was still working and Harry always offered her some. They were usually healthy, but sometimes she’d eat some. Jeff, his manager, had also stopped by on occasion during his tattoo touch-ups that had become a thing after shooting days had grown longer.

On first meeting, Jeff had said, “Y/N? Harry mentioned you.”

She had turned to Harry with an arched brow and he had shrugged. When she looked back at Jeff she didn’t see Harry give Jeff one of the deadliest looks he could muster. She had grimaced and said “Well we spend enough time together for him to know my name. So thank god for that at least.”

They had all laughed and she had gotten back to work on Harry’s wrist.

Today, she needed Harry in his shorts. It was the first day of shooting where his character would be only in his boxers so she had to cover up all his visible tattoos. Olivia had told the makeup department they actually had to cover up his feet tattoos as well. She wanted him sockless in the scene and Y/N had groaned immediately when she made it to the trailer and Harry wasn’t already there.

“But please, for the sake of my job, strip, dude.” She says, arms crossed over her chest and leaning against the counter as she watched Harry set his things down. Her soft green striped cardigan is open, exposing the white tank top sitting underneath. Her bright green shorts hang loose on her, cinched at the waist and folded over once. Her white high top nike’s tap impatiently on the floor, waiting for Harry to get moving.

He nodded, truly feeling sorry for his tardiness, knowing today was a long day. He was anxious and tired. Acting was a different experience to music and he just was really trying his best.

As he began to take off his shirt, he laughed. His arms pulled the shirt over his head and when it popped out from beneath it, he repeated, “Strip, dude,” attempting to mimic her American accent.

He had practiced his American accent in front of her while running lines, but it had a 50’s drawl to it. His acting coach had been drilling him for weeks before shooting and he still liked to practice. The accent he had just down was far off from that and far off from hers too.

“Do not,” she warned.

“What?” He asks innocently and flutters his eyelashes.

She knows his game by now and she knows she should just ignore him. She knows this after fourteen days. She knows this after hours with him. She knows this, but then she’s opening her mouth and playing into his teases.

“Sorry, what’s a word you would know? Mate?” She tries for a British accent with the last word, knowing she can’t win this.

Harry snickers and scratches at his nose with his index finger before starting on taking off his pants. “You’re so Californian.”

“Thank you,” she chirps, moving to sit beside him now that he had settled.

“I like your shorts,” he muses, crossing his legs, likely a little cold.

She glances down at her cotton shorts that showed more of her thighs when she sat for a moment before returning her gaze to his left arm. The longest task of the day was this damn arm.

“Thanks,” she mumbles, “Wanted to be comfortable today. Knew it was gonna be long.”

A smile bubbles onto his face, his pink lips parting to reveal his shiny white teeth behind them. “So true.”

The music is low today. She had chosen Joni Mitchel’s Blue album for the first pick of the day. She had quickly learned Harry preferred listening to albums in order. It tended to make him less jumpy when the same artist came on multiple times like an album. So when she tried to play just an album one day, she found him more cooperative and less irritable.

After thirty minutes of work, she can’t stop noticing how shivery Harry is. It was late October in LA, so it was still warm, but admittedly the mornings could be a little chilly. His shivering was concerning for many reasons. Mainly he was messing up her work and concentration, but she also didn’t want him to get sick or something.

“Do you want me to see if they have a blanket and slippers or something? You look like you’re turning blue.”

Harry turns his attention to her. He had been reading over the script for today again. “That’d be great. I can call…” He trails off trying to think of the name of one of his assistants, but apparently he’s too scatterbrained for it. She assumed it was the hypothermia traveling to his brain already.

“Don’t worry about it, I’ll walkie someone.” She says as she grabs the walkie talkie, flicking to the personal assistants channel.

“Hey,” she chirps happily. Harry noted how she talked to other people. So sweet, yet sincere. With him, it was serious and sincere but more biting, callous at times. Less so lately, but she definitely was sharper with him. He didn’t know if it even bothered him anymore. She was engaging if nothing else.

“Is someone free to bring two blankets and men’s slippers over to Trailer 6? I’ve got a naked Jack and I don’t want him freezing before I’m done covering up his tattoos.” She takes her finger off the talking button and glances sideways at him, “Who knows, maybe that would improve his acting. Y’know on second-thought-”

“Alright, alright,” Harry tries to grab for the walkie talkie, but she turns from him holding a finger up signalling him to wait as she listens for a response.

Someone says a simple “On it” and she turns off the walkie talkie and gets back to work.

“I took my finger off the speaker before I said the thing about your acting. Relax, Harry.” She says when he’s still glaring at her. “Just love to see you squirm.”

He shakes out his short chestnut hair, some of it falling over his forehead. Instinctively, she reaches up without even looking and smooths it back. Like she was tucking her own hair out of her eyes, but instead it was Harry’s. She decided to say nothing and was relieved when Harry didn’t say anything either.

She finishes his forearm and moves to his outer upper arm. The rose holds her attention when the PA knocks on the door and she has to race to get it. Nothing could stop her from moving on this work. It was already an hour in and she wanted to scream.

She swings open the door and she wants to die. It was Autumn. Her least favorite PA, of course. She was insufferable and obsessed with Harry. Which was not why Y/N found Autumn insufferable. There were so many more reasons. So many. But that particular character flaw didn’t help her case either. Y/N tried to just take the blankets and slippers from Autumn, but the woman insisted that she come in.

“I’ve got it,” Y/N says.

“No, don’t want you to get makeup on anything,” Autumn’s saccharine voice grinds at her ears and she contemplates cutting them off.

Harry sat in his chair, legs crossed, nodding along to the music, his script discarded on the counter in front of him.

“Hi Harry!” Autumn practically yells, walking right up to him.

Y/N takes a deep breath at the door, letting it swing shut. She bites her lower lip as an attempt to bite her tongue as she walks back to her set-up. The set-up Autumn was conveniently blocking.

“Hello, Autumn,” Harry says kindly, making eye contact with her. “How’re you today?”

“So great! So great! Thanks for asking. How are you?” She points a finger at him like she might poke him and Harry squirms away from her a bit. She, of course, doesn’t notice this.

“Well, thanks.” His eyes flicker to Y/N, who is standing behind Autumn, hands on her hips and attempting not to tap her foot. His tone is clearly dismissive, but Autumn must ignore it. Y/N knows Autumn isn’t as helpless as she tries to come off.

Autumn asks, “Where do you want these?”, gesturing to the two blankets and slippers stacked on top.

“Just on the counter is fine, thanks,” Harry says.

Autumn does as he says and then stands there with baited breath. Y/N’s not sure what she’s expecting. For Harry to ask for her hand in marriage or something? But he just glances between the two women. His own foot begins wiggling in impatience.

“Busy day,” He attempts at dismissing her once again - with kindness.

“Oh my gosh, totally!” Autumn gushes, starting to go off on all of the tasks she has to do. She stands so close to Harry, Y/N genuinely thinks she’s going to sit in his lap. Y/N stares up to the ceiling, begging god or whoever to end her misery right there and then.

Harry sees Y/N’s expression and tries to maintain the neutral expression he’s had for the entirely too long interaction. A smile threatens at his rosey lips that had chapped from the morning air.

“Right, well,” he cuts off Autumn, “Y/N needs to get back to tattoo coverage, I think. So...have a nice day.”

Autumn’s eyes widen like she forgot that there was anyone else in the room and steps back from Harry. Y/N nods, a grimace clear on her face. Autumn gives her the same small she used to get from the popular girls in high school when she happened to be talking to their cool guy friend that they wanted to be more than friends with. Sickeningly sweet and completely fake. She could see the contempt in Autumn’s eyes that swirled just beneath the surface of her perfectly outlined green-ish eyes.

“Okay! You too, Harry!” She begins walking to the door and Y/N takes her seat again, closing her eyes and counting to ten. “And Y/N,” Autumn adds as an afterthought.

“Oh my fucking god,” Y/N sighs, her hands going to rub over her face and through her hair. “That was exhausting. Jesus Christ.”

“What? She’s nice. Maybe a little clueless,” Harry counters. “But she was so nice,” he confirms again, seemingly trying to convince himself of it as well.  

She grabs the slippers and slips them on the ground so Harry can put them on easily. Then one of the blankets that she drapes over Harry’s bottom half. He smiles at the gesture, a ‘thank you’ said in a whisper.

“Please, she knows what she’s doing,” Y/N scoffs, “And she’s obsessed with you!” She grabs the concealer to get back to work, “She was all over you and never took her eyes off of your body. It was like she wanted to touch you or something. It was icky.”

“You touch me,” Harry adds cheekily, adjusting beneath the warm blanket.

She laughs, a smile gracing her lips as she gives Harry a look. He was clever.

“It’s my job to touch you, Harry.”

Harry had really tried to not laugh, but it was just so funny. They both snicker, their eyes meeting for a moment longer than usual.

“Speaking of my job,” she adds after controlling her laughter, “Does she not realize just how long it takes to cover all of your bloody tattoos with this shit to make it look like you’re a pristine skinned 50’s psycho killer?”

She finishes the rose coverup and moves to the ship. Harry nods solemnly.

“It’s true...And it doesn’t help that you’re terrible at it, so it takes a thousand years longer than it should.” He adds, laughter overtaking his serious tone at the end.

“Oh my god!” She shrieks in delight, trying not to mess up her work, “That is so rude! I messed up one time - mostly because of you, by the way. And give me a break, this is so not what I thought I’d be doing as a makeup artist for movies.”

He nods again, muttering “Fair, fair.”

They grow silent, enjoying Goodbye Yellow Brick Road, the album that she had queued after Joni’s.

“The body thing, I just learned to ignore it, I think.” Harry mutters, eventually, but it’s thoughtless, like he’s not revealing anything about himself with the statement. But it kind of shocks her. Her eyes widen and she stops her work to stare at his face.

“Harry,” she waits till his eyes meet hers, “That’s, like, not normal. Are you serious?”

“I mean, I’m very comfortable with my body, like I haven’t minded the last 45 minutes of sitting practically nude in front of you. And I have plenty of revealing photos out in the world. I just don’t notice staring anymore, it’s not, I don’t think it’s what you’re thinking,” he tries to reassure her. His eyes are intent on hers, full of seriousness that hadn’t been there a few moments ago.

“It’s one thing to be comfortable in your skin and another to be desensitized to objectification,” she insists.

He nods. “I know. Thank you. I would let you know if what she had done had bothered me, so don’t worry. I felt completely safe the whole time.”

“Good,” she nods back and concentrates again. “Good,” she repeats once more under her breath. There had been way too many distractions already today and she wasn’t even done with his arm yet.

As she continues to work up his arm, Harry sings along to some of the songs on Elton’s album. He happily taps his feet to the different beats, now safely tucked in soft fluffy slippers. She would never admit just how amazing it is to be in the same room as Harry’s singing. It was truly special to be less than a foot from him and hear him sing just under the unique voice of Elton - who was someone he actually knew, which was equally as cool.

He hit every note and knew every word. She was impressed. How could she not be when a literal rockstar sat before her? This was the first time she was truly starstruck by her charge, Mr. Harry Styles.

By two hours, they had moved onto an album by Dolly Parton and they were both singing. They strangely had no fights today, maybe some snarky comments from both of them, but no outright mean-spirited words were exchanged.

She stood in front of Harry, finishing up the swallows. She had finished both arms and the birds, all she had left was moving down his body. Up next, the butterfly.

“I love this tattoo,” she mumbles, twisting Harry’s standing body to face her and taking her seat again. This left her eye to eye with the butterfly on his stomach.

He makes a surprised face and raises his recently plucked eyebrow at his counterpart. “Oh really?”

“Don’t act so surprised. I told you day one that not all of them are rubbish and honestly they’re all pretty cool. I just was so annoyed that I had gotten tattoo coverage as my job and then I had to go and index them all.” She flicks her eyes up to his sculpted face and sees he’s watching her work. “Plus, I have some butterflies of my own, remember?” She grins.

“Yeah,” he ponders her words, “I don’t think that’d put me in a good mood either.”

He pauses again and she continues to work silently.

“So what’s your excuse for the second day then?”

“You provoked me,” she doesn’t spare him a glance, shrugging like it was the simplest answer in the world.

“Pardon?”

“Let’s not go down this road again, Harry.” She sighs, smoothing over the freshly covered butterfly tattoo. His sternum looked so naked, it was unnerving. Now the ferns.

Harry involuntarily shivered when her fingers traced over the ferns lightly, taking note of the expanse of skin she’d have to cover.

“You’re right,” he agrees, “But agree to disagree on the provocation.”

“Sure,” she says curtly, focusing on his skin and her job.

The expanse of skin that the ferns inhabited was slightly fleshy and especially soft. It bordered where his boxers began and she ignored that part of his body completely. It was of no importance to her and she really had no issue blocking it from her vision, even when it was right in front of her. She finishes one fern with Harry jumping only twice from her cold hands. He couldn’t put his robe on until the makeup had all set for half an hour so he’d have to be cold for possibly another hour still.

She traces the fern that is still visible and Harry shivers. She instinctively shushes him softly and his body quiets. As she works, her hair splays around her shoulders and Harry looks down at her working and doesn’t realize what his hand is doing until it’s too late. His right hand runs over her hair, smoothing it out of her face. It was rarely ever down, so it must have been the novelty of it.

“Sorry, I-” he chokes out when he jerks his hand back.

She sits back, slightly taken aback. Her body flushes just from their positioning and what a hair caress would mean normally in this position, but she’s a professional and she shakes it off.

“It’s fine. We’re even.” She assures him, breaking eye contact with his own wide eyes. “Seems like we’re both hair touchers.”

“It’s just so soothing,” Harry muses. “I think it’s human instinct to touch other people’s hair since it’s so enjoyable for yourself.”

“Possibly,” her voice raises, his thought was definitely plausible. Or maybe they were just two touch starved people who were very much in each other’s personal space 24/7.

At the two and a half hour marker, she gets a walkie message from Olivia’s assistant asking when they’d be done. She had just finished the tiger tattoo, which had been surprisingly easy. It took a while, but Harry didn’t shiver once and neither of them pet each other’s hair.

“Probably 40 minutes, sorry. He has a lot of tattoos and the makeup needs to set.” She says seriously and gets back to work, barely regarding the response of “Yeah it’s fine, just wanted an estimate”.

“Jesus,” Harry moans as she covers up his knee tattoos.

She groans in veiled disgust, “Did I just hit a secret erogenous zone? Is that why you have ‘oui’ there, you creep?” There’s a teasing tone behind the nickname she uses.

Harry laughs and runs his hand over his face, pulling at his jaw and lower lip. His jaw is so sharp, she watches him adjust it. “No, no. I’m just so goddamn tired of this.”

“And it’s not your fault,” he adds, feeling bad immediately after he said it. “It’s actually been nice today, but I’m feeling antsy, like I need to move. I don’t like to sit still.”

“I know,” she says under her breath. She simply nods in agreement.

Finally, the tattoos are all covered up and set. They had talked about George Michael when she got to his ankle tattoos that she hadn’t seen before and they laugh about the tattoos and chat a bit more. She helps him slip on his robe that he keeps in his closet in the trailer and then follows him out of it. They had decided they were hungry and he had been pushed back an hour since he had taken so long, so he had a free half-hour.

As they walked to craft services, they talked about actual things besides work. She was pleasantly surprised by what Harry talked about. It was more than music or the movie. It was the tv show he was currently obsessed with and how he hated LA’s traffic the most out of all of his dislikes for the city. She couldn’t help but grin at his Los Angeles slander. She loved this side of him.

-

Breakfast together after finishing his tattoo coverage became their regular thing. He would come into the trailer, racing from his morning meeting accompanied with tea for two, they’d get his tattoos covered as quickly as possible, and then they’d eat together.

They’d save their “in-depth” chats for breakfast. In early November, he joked about No Nut November and insisted he really wouldn’t have a problem with it - which had made her laugh. They worried together over the U.S. presidential election and meditated together in his trailer to Fleetwood Mac.

Around late November, Harry had requested that Y/N just do his face makeup as well, just to simplify his life a little more and the department had agreed easily. She had to spend extra time on set getting lectured on how to properly do Harry’s makeup, but after two days she stopped getting notes about it. She was so extremely proud and thankful to Harry for doing that.

All he said was: “I mean, you’re extremely talented so I’m not scared of you fucking up my face. Plus, it does make my life easier. Two birds with one stone.”

In late November, he told her about his favorite holiday drinks at Starbucks and what he was getting his mother for Christmas.

When the Vogue cover came out, he laughed over that woman who responded to his cover saying the world needed to bring back manly men. He joked that he was going to really push that from now on, that he was a manly man, and he would sputter with laughter every time he tried to say it with a straight face.

He hand delivered her a special ‘Treat People With Kindness’ sweatshirt that he only had for the cast and crew of the film. Most everyone got them from a PA, but Harry decided since you saw him first in the morning, why not.

He told her about him winning Hitmaker of the Year from Variety when he had left the award sitting in Trailer 6 and about how weird it was to film acceptance speeches in an empty room. His smile had lit up the entire set that day and the day he did his interview on set. He was so smiley she had to bump him with her elbow because he wouldn’t stop smiling at her and it was unnerving.

“Stop that,” She muttered.

“Stop what?” He smiles wider.

“That!” She squeaked, her head shaking as she ducked it to regard his anchor tattoo. “You’re smiling too much.”

“Oh no,” he says sarcastically, “God forbid I be happy.”

“It’s not that,” she bumps his thigh with her elbow, trying to keep her own smile off her face, “Your face is just so intense when you smile. Feels like you’re gonna burn a hole through me.”

He laughs, completely unconvinced, “You just don’t want me to be happy is what I’m hearing.”

She rolls her eyes, “Whatever, dude.”

She saw he was serious about the ‘manly men’ references when the Variety photos came out and everyone and their mom posted the pictures with some variation of that comment as their caption.

She still found that she rolled her eyes at some of the things Harry did, but she genuinely counted him as a friend by the time December had rolled around.

Over three hours, almost always completely alone, doing work for a job you both care deeply about can really make or break a relationship. And that first full-body coverage day had made them stronger together. After that, Harry and her would banter with one another, but there was never anything intentionally cruel. Just friends giving each other shit sometimes. Harry had been right, he had changed her mind about him. And she had realized that that was who Harry was. He was a deliverer. If you didn’t like him at first, he would try and try again until you did, but he did it in a way that wasn’t weasley or anything. It was terribly genuine and she saw it in every relationship he had on set.

On several occasions she had witnessed his friendship with Nick Kroll. A man she had regarded with dislike before the film. She had quickly realized that dislike was misplaced, but she maintained that it was just because she hated adult cartoons - citing that she literally refused to be friends with any person who willingly watched the Simpsons, Family Guy, and/or American Dad and all of those similar shows.

Nick was far nicer and less weird than she had realized. So she quickly shot her friend from high school an apology text for all the Nick Kroll slander she had spouted back in the day. Her friend had rejoiced but also said how jealous she was that Y/N got to see him regularly on set.

Nick and Harry got along great. Harry generally got along better with older people, she noticed when she was introduced to his friends on the somewhat frequent occasion. Trailer 6 was where Y/N saw most of these reactions take place. She would be introduced in the first minute and then she would smile politely and get back to the work of covering up Harry’s numerous tattoos.

Harry would say something simple and Nick, the literal famous comedian, would laugh. In the beginning she’d raise a brow, confused because it truly wasn’t that funny, but as Harry’s friend now, she kept her mouth shut.

Nick would come and sit on the couch while she’d work and eventually all three of them would chat. Sometimes she would get up to go to the bathroom during those morning chats and she would look in the mirror and think to herself “How are you casually talking to these two men right now” and then she’d think “Because you are a boss ass bitch, you got this” and go back out there with a smile on her face.

“Y/N, what are you doing tonight?” Nick asked on the first Friday morning of December.

She looks up from Harry’s cross tattoo that was half covered. Harry was reading, a book casually propped in his right hand and glasses resting on the bridge of his nose. He glanced at the other two in the room. Nick had been getting some work done before he had spoken.

“No plans,” she states simply before getting back to work. It wasn’t full body today, but it was arms and torso, so kind of a lot still.

“You should come over for dinner at my place with Harry,” Nick smiles kindly. His scruff was really coming in today. “To celebrate us almost wrapping the first half of the movie.”

Harry had thankfully freshly shaved before he sat down. It was her least favorite part of her new job. Whenever he came in for touch ups and she had to shave his afternoon shadow. She was terrified she’d cut him and never live it down from her department or Harry. She had no idea which would be worse.

“My wife will be there too, of course,” he adds, hoping to entice her to say yes.

Harry glances between Y/N and Nick again before focusing on his book again.

She purses her lips, finishing Harry’s hand and moving onto the anchor tattoo. “Yeah, I mean, I don’t know why I’d say no. As long as I’m not intruding on the throuple,” she grins up at Harry.

He stares at her with his big green eyes, slightly obscured behind his prescription glasses. He raises his brows and wiggles them a little bit, teasingly.

Nick laughs and slyly winks at Harry through the mirror. Y/N none the wiser as she removes all traces of Harry’s tattoos.

“Great!” He claps his hands and stands up. “We’ll talk or I’ll make sure Harry gets you the info or something. I don’t know, but we’ll figure it out. My wife’s been wanting to meet you,” he smiles again and walks out of the trailer.

She tilts her head at the last part. He talked about her to his wife. Did he really count her as that close of a friend? She was just a makeup artist and he was a producer… She glances at Harry and he gives away nothing. His jaw looks extra prominent and she knows it’s because he’s clenching it. He did that when he was focused or angry, remembering it bulging on the first day they met and how clenched it had been then.

“Unclench your jaw,” she mutters, ��It’s not good for you.”

Harry hums and unclenches it.

He stretches his neck by rolling his head around his shoulders and she glances at the movement. His skin is still beautifully sun-kissed and his pores look so soft, only his moles change the texture of his skin. She loves his moles though, they make him especially unique in her eyes. Not that he needed anything else to set him apart from the crowd. Still, she loved them. His collarbone is prominent as he sits there shirtless and she wishes she could reach out and brush at it. But she gets back to work, knowing the only time she’s gonna be brushing near that part of him is when she’s covering dates in those dips behind his collarbones.

“Y’know, I could just drive you to Nick’s tonight,” Harry says, putting his book down and taking off his glasses. He rubs at his eye with his free hand.

“You’re blind and British, how do I know you can even drive yourself?” She asks sillily, pointing to his glasses.

He shakes his head, “I’m serious, Y/N. Aren’t you staying in the same area as me?”

He asks because they had relocated to Palm Springs a little while ago and everyone had gotten rentals and it was hard to remember where everyone was holed up when they weren’t on set.

“Yeah, think so. But you don’t need to pick me up. I have a car.”

“Nonsense. I’ve been to his place before, don’t want you to have to deal with directions, that’s just silly.”

“I guess...” she resigns relatively easily. She had never hung out with Harry off the set or Nick for that matter. It felt surreal, but she knew the right answer was usually just say yes in these situations. So that’s what she says. “Yes, that’d be great, thank you,” she confirms and watches as Harry’s eyes glimmer softly before turning back to his book. A triumphant soft smirk rests on his face.

The words die out between the two of them as she works on. He hums along to the music and continues reading his book. When she’s done with his tattoo coverage and his face makeup, she sends him off to hair and the rest of his day. He gives a flirty wink as he walks out the door and she rolls her eyes in response. She tidies up her kit and then goes to do some other makeup work.

When she wasn’t working with Harry, she was assigned to some of the minor characters and doing their makeup. They were always her second concern, especially now that she did Harry’s makeup as well as his tattoos. As she works on them, she can feel her mind drifting to Harry. Harry and how they were friends now. She was pretty sure, right? They were friends. He had never really said a mean thing to her if she really thought about it. It was her… She had been rude and mean-spirited and he had just taken it. He rarely had even thrown it back at her. He was so good to her and patient and she realized that he had proven to her that he was good. He was better than good, he was kind and loving. Considerate. Wonderful. All of those positive superlatives, Harry filled them. And she had the audacity to be mean to him.

She paused the brush that was adding blush to an actresses cheek.

Lisa, the actress, looks at Y/N confusedly, “What’s wrong?”

Y/N twitches her head, refocusing on her task at hand. The realization of her pausing her work becomes clear as she looks between her hand and the cheek that has not enough blush on it. “Oh,” she breathes. “...I just realized that I was terrible to someone who doesn’t have a mean bone in their body.”

Lisa nods, “Apologize.”

“Yeah, I mean...We’ve kind of moved past the phase where we don’t get along. Like now we’re friends, but the realization just really hit me.” She sighs, picking up where she left off on Lisa’s makeup. “I’ll make sure to apologize next time I see them.”

Lisa smiles.

-

At the end of the day, Y/N realizes she left her tattoo coverage kit in Harry’s room after their touch-up session halfway through the day. She had run off to help with a makeup emergency for a tiny cut on a minor character’s face and forgotten to go back and grab her things. Another roll of her eyes and a huff of breath and then she’s walking back to Trailer 6, a place that seemed like a home away from home now. She knocks, patiently waiting at the bottom of the steps.

Harry swings open the door and props it with his hip. He’s got a toothbrush held in his mouth, slowly scrubbing back and forth with his left hand. His costume is somewhat taken off, he’s still got the pants on with suspenders hanging down, his chest was completely bare and he looked funny with some of his tattoos only being half covered based on what parts of his skin had been showing today. Her work. His skin looked half silky smooth and half tattooed like usual.

His naked skin seemingly left her breathless because as her eyes returned to Harry’s face, she breathed a soft, “Hi.”

“Hey,” a smirk twists onto his face. “Forget something?”

“Yes,” she nods, coming back to her senses and entering the trailer at Harry’s gesture.

She begins to pack up the kit that had been left haphazardly strewn around on his counter. “I’m sorry I left a mess like this, I got called over to something else and forgot.”

“Don’t worry darling,” Harry grins at his joke.

She looks up from her work and sees Harry in the reflection of the mirror. He’s wiping off the makeup from his chest and his beautiful tattoos reemerge as entire images.

She laughs humorlessly, “It gets less funny each time you use that.”

“That’s not true,” he looks at her through the mirror now, his green eyes trained on her face, “Everyone else still thinks it’s hilarious.”

“They’re humoring you and your fragile ego,” she winks and watches as Harry’s smirk twitches from his perfect face.

“You’ve got a very mean disposition, you know that?” He asks.

He finishes his chest and moves to remove the makeup from his left arm, glancing at the mirror every so often to check himself and to flicker his eyes over Y/N’s face.

She genuinely laughs at that, but scolds herself internally for being mean when she had planned to apologize the next time she saw Harry. This was the next time so why was she doing this instead?

“Rewrite sweet disposition for me?” Her voice honeyed. Clearly stubborn and terrible at saying sorry...maybe her and Harry were a better match than she realized.

Harry twists his lips as he slips on his t-shirt he was wearing today.

“Pick you up at 6:30?” He says as his head pops out from beneath the rainbow striped sweatshirt he slipped on top of the shirt. His chestnut hair had been toweled out and was flopping over his forehead slightly.

She sighs and zips close the kit, standing from the seat she had taken at his counter and turning to face him now.

“6:30 is perfect. Thanks again for doing this. I just can’t believe Nick Kroll is inviting me over for dinner!” She smiles, shifting to lean against the counter as she waits for Harry to finish up. She didn’t have to but for some reason she felt like she was in no rush.

“Are you serious?” He’s moved on to changing his pants now and he’s slipping on black sweatpants.

“Yeah…” She blinks and her eyes widen as Harry appraises her expression.

He straightens up after fixing a cuff on the pants and he can’t tell if she’s being genuine or sarcastic. It was always so hard to tell with her.

“I mean, Nick Kroll is like a huge celebrity and I know in the entertainment business you’re not supposed to get starstruck but when I was in college my sister thought he was weirdly hot and my friends and I would shit talk him. I don’t know, it’s just kind of surreal to be having dinner at his place. Like I’ve watched him on tv and now I’ll be eating with him...so weird.”

He shakes his head, beginning on his dirty vans now. A small laugh escapes his mouth and he glances between her and his shoe, scratching his head quickly. “I still can’t tell… It feels like you’re fucking with me right now.”

“I’m not!” She insists, her hands coming out in front of her in a confused fashion. “I used to watch that guy’s tv show then he’s my boss now he’s inviting me over for food? It’s a lot to process.”

“How come it’s not surreal to be having dinner with me then?” He asks semi-joking, a hint of offense tinged within it. It’s visible only in his knitted brow and twisted lip.

“Careful there, sailor. Venturing into some dangerously self-absorbed waters.” Her eyes light up, a quick raise of her brows accompany the shine, and she decides now is her time to head out. Especially as she thinks about getting ready for this soiree tonight. She needed to shower and pick out an outfit with less than two hours to prepare.

Harry sputters at her response and fumbles with his pink shoelace. “That’s not...that is - You’re being unfair. My question is valid.”

She shrugs her shoulders and skirts Harry’s attempt at grabbing at her arm to stop her from leaving. “Okay, Mr. Big Man On Campus. I promise you you’re the most popular boy in school.”

She blows him a kiss and walks out the door as he attempts to get her to come back by calling her name a few times and slightly shouting “C’mon! I wasn’t being insecure. That was a reasonable ask…”

He sighs and shakes his head again. Every interaction would end with one of them either rolling their eyes or shaking their head and usually a sigh on both of their lips. It was exhausting, but exhilarating too.

20 minutes later, Harry receives a text from Y/N: “You’re still picking me up right :))) ?”

He’s in his car, getting ready to finally leave after getting held up with last minute schedule changes that he had to be informed about by some PA that he had forgotten the name of. His lip quirks to the right and he closes his eyes for a second enjoying seeing her name on his phone screen for a moment.

He types back: “Of courseeee”.

“Fab.” She sends back, immediately followed by: “Fanks BMOC ;)”

A full smile rolls onto Harry’s face after he swipes his tongue over his lower lip. “Yeah, yeah, save it for the next guy” he types out quickly before throwing his phone gently beside him and driving back to his apartment. She made him feel young, not that he wasn’t young, but generally his friends didn’t text like she did.

-

At 6:28, she receives a text from Harry Styles - his name in her phone. A name she had never expected to see in her phone unless her Spotify was on shuffle. Yet, instead, his name popped up under messages and it read “Here!” followed by a quick “I think” and then a phone call coming through from the apparently anxious man himself.

“Hello Harry.” Her tone even. She throws little items into her purse, making sure everything she needs is there.

“Could you peek out your window? I’m not quite sure I’m at the right place and people are staring…” nerves laced in his rushed tone.

She ambles to the window and opens up the shade she had closed to change. Below her, she sees a sleek black Range Rover with a slightly disarrayed hairdo and big dark glasses peeking below the windshield. She ignored the instinct to retch at the sight of the Range Rover and peered at the lamp lit sight below her. It was definitely Harry, but she searched for the prying eyes he was worried about and saw none. Well, maybe a few, but it wasn’t a lot.

“I see you, I’ll be right out, dude. Just deep breaths, it’s mostly crew staying here right now so they’re just seeing that it’s you, another guy they work with. They won’t come up for pictures...I would hope.”

She hangs up with no farewell, snatches her purse from its place on the bed and races out the door. Harry smiles anxiously at her when she stands next to the passenger’s door and he unlocks it. She bites her lip and raises her brows, waiting to hear if anything terrible happened in the minute and a half it took her to come downstairs and out to the car.

“Hi,” he exhales.

A smirk crawls onto her features and her eyes sparkle with a bit of a childish glee that normally she didn’t exhibit as she glances at him. “Hi.” She says quietly. “Alright big boy?”

“‘M fine.” He huffs but balks at her smile that she maintains while she stares at him. “What?”

“Just happy to see you, I guess,” her smile returns after speaking and Harry glances between her face and the windshield in front of him.

He can’t tell if she’s being serious or not once again. But he fears that conversation of her either ridiculing him for thinking she is serious or being offended that he still can’t tell. Instead, he will keep his mouth shut. For the most part.

“Happy to see you, too,” his lips create a closed mouth smile quickly before turning out of the parking lot.

She watches him. Their first time together outside of work. And they were friends. She needed to get used to simply thinking that. He picked her up to take her to dinner with her other friend and his wife. This was normal life, just with big names behind those terms of relation. Jesus, she always said it didn’t bother her to be around celebrities so why did she think about it so damn much?

She twitches her head and refocuses on Harry and his driving. His jaw is clenched again and she wants to reach out and sooth it herself. Instead she starts to open her mouth to correct him, but stops herself from that as well. They weren’t at work and it didn’t feel like something just a friend would say right now. She refocuses on the view of his eyes that are barely visible while he regards the road. His large eyes that she had grown acquainted to are surveying what he’s doing, every so often drifting to the right side of the road to check out the lane beside him. But then, always back to right in front of him, leaving a crescent of green visible to her.

“Can feel you staring at me…” His voice sounds like it’s rolled around in gravel after the long work day. It makes her wonder if he’s supposed to have a vocal rest when he’s not at work, but then again it’s the weekend now so maybe it was fine. Maybe she should ask him. Or maybe she should stop worrying so much about him.

“Have I got something on my face?” His low register bumps her from her racing thoughts. He doesn’t take his eyes off the road, but she can see he’s widened his eyes in wonder.

“No! Of course not, I just was...making sure you weren��t going to crash us or something.” She grasps at straws, desperate to not be caught by Harry.

A low chuckle bubbles from his chest and he spares a small glance over at her bundled up in his passenger seat. She matches his gaze with something of distrust hidden behind her eyes. She hopes to convey that she’s being silly and when Harry turns back to look at the road unassumingly, she feels like she has won. The harmonies of the beginning of a Queen song take over the silence, Harry’s spindly fingers thrumming against the wheel.

They arrive at the Kroll’s Palm Springs residence at 6:50. 10 minutes early and the two twiddle their thumbs for a few minutes, trying to pass the time and not intrude earlier than they were supposed to. She appreciated that Harry liked to be timely but not early, similar to how she was.

“So what is the fascination with Range Rovers?” She queries, leaning against the door’s armrest. The back of her head touches against the semi-tinted window.

Harry shifts in his seat, seat belt no longer constricting him and no road requiring his attention as they sit in the driveway. He rushes a hand through his hair and lets a single strand of hair fall over his prominent forehead.

“Dunno,” he shrugs his shoulders and allows a hand to fall onto the steering wheel absentmindedly. “I don’t really prefer them anymore, but when I’m in LA and doing work, it makes things easier. My other cars are a little flashier...have more privacy in this.”

“Yet the effect is similar,” she muses.

Her head tilts to take in Harry’s appearance, sharp black silky button-up and dark green plaid slacks, and she rubs a hand over her jaw. His eyes flicker to the movement and attempt to really take it in, even in the dim glow of the lamp light outside barely peeking into the dark interior of the car.

“Effect?”

“Y’know…” She arches her brow at him. He feigns innocence or possibly the expression is genuine. She’s begun to realize Harry was as genuine as they came, but she just didn’t think he was that unaware. An assumption that was likely correct, but even Harry liked to pretend he was a completely unassuming individual.

“Forget it,” she finishes when he gives no indication that he knows what she is hinting at. She doesn’t want to get into it with him again. Especially when he plays at this game where he has no idea what she’s talking about. It made her feel like she was crazy for thinking he made these calculated decisions to get his desired outcomes.

They move on, neither of them quite sure what the other was getting at in that conversation. The two of them walk into the house a minute before their expected arrival time side by side and are greeted happily with Nick and his wife. They’re ushered in and Y/N is happily received by the happy couple.  

“So, Y/N, how’s it been for you working with these two? I know they can be more than a handful - especially together,” Nick’s wife, Lily, asks after a sip of wine.

The group of four had been eating for a while with Nick and Harry bantering for quite a bit at the beginning about whether or not Harry would be willing to hand feed Nick. The answer was settled at “another time”.  

Harry seems to have a very specific habit of watching whoever is speaking - no matter what. So after Lily has finished speaking, his gaze flickers to Y/N, the person his brain expects to speak next. He watches her attentively as she wipes her mouth on her napkin before speaking.

Her hair was styled differently tonight than it usually was on set, she had it down rather than up in a ponytail or braids. He hadn’t had time to really look at her when they had been in the car, his mind occupied with stress and exhaustion that he refocused into driving and deep breathing. Now, in the comfort of a trusted friend’s home, he was far more relaxed and able to truly take in her appearance, which he couldn’t help but think was beautiful. He’d have to tell her that at some point. That he thought she was beautiful. Not that he didn’t see her on set and think she was beautiful...he just hadn’t really thought about it before. She was his wily makeup artist who was critical of him most times, but occasionally sweet, who had an amazing taste in music and good aesthetic style. The beauty part of it all, he guessed wasn’t something integral to their relationship before.

But now he was sitting beside her at the Kroll’s nice dining table and she had her hair splayed in front and behind her shoulders with one side tucked behind her ear and her outfit fit her impeccably. The top she had on had capped sleeves that cinched with buttons at her delicate wrists and a severe drop to create a small sweetheart neckline just above the curve of her breasts. It was silky and shiny, a blush pink that complemented the high waisted dark grey slacks that flared over shiny black boots that he wasn’t sure where they ended beneath the pants.

“Well,” she starts, chuckling under her breath when she meets Harry’s stare, “Harry and I spend a lot of time together, covering up all his tattoos, and he yaps a lot. So, it’s actually pretty refreshing when Nick comes in, because Harry’s then talking half the normal amount.”

He huffs a scoff, while Lily and Nick laugh happily. Nick interjects an “ouch” for the bite she just took out of Harry, but she thought it was fine, he can take it.

Harry thought to himself that if she can serve it, then she can definitely take it. His eyes remain on her as he opens his mouth to speak, but then look at Lily when words actually come out. “Well, Y/N, she thinks she can read people really well, but it’s actually quite the opposite. She had me completely wrong when we first met, so I talk now in hopes that she’ll really understand me.”

His head tilts to her when he mentions her name, but otherwise doesn’t glance her way away again. He scrunches his nose at the end of his comment, implying he converses with her out of pity.

It’s her turn to scoff and stare at him unamused. Nick and Lily share a look, unsure of what was going on, they had concocted this dinner date idea in hopes to set the two up but the way this conversation was going, they seemed to be pushing each other further and further away from one another.

“That’s simply not true,” she says curtly and takes a sip of her quickly emptying wine glass.

“Which part?”

“Almost all of it, I’d say,” her eyes glaring back at him, fiery with a disdain he hadn’t seen in awhile. “You’re proving my original perception of you with every passing second,” she adds.

“Care to elaborate exactly what the original perception of me was for the class,” his eyes are wide and wild, any extra adoration he had started to feel towards her slipping away just as quickly as it had come, like a wave along the beach.

“You know, so why don’t you?”

“I want to hear you say it,” he grits out the command.

She shifts in her seat, glancing at Nick and Lily who are watching on and she has a feeling she won’t be getting an invitation again anytime soon. Lily gives her a semi-reassuring smile like she was sorry to have asked the question at all, but Y/N knows this is kind of her fault, not that she would ever admit that. Her comment could have been taken innocuously, but Harry’s pride wouldn’t let it slide. Like she said, she should have known better, the weeks of friendship were flying out the window and she was helping them along.

“And what if I don’t?”

“Have fun calling an uber at this time of night,” he shrugs, malice dripping in his tone.

She truly was taken aback at this. A slight sound of shock leaving her mouth. Harry was many things, impatient and anxious usually, but downright cruel with her, she had yet to see it. Arrogant and pompous, definitely, but this wickedness that was starting to creep from the shadows worried her. But the little fiery demon within her wasn’t going anywhere either - yet she might back down to save herself some money and hassle.

“Fine,” she raises her brows in a challenge to him and restates her original take on him - possibly adding a bit extra malice in her phrasing, “You are a shell of a man, held up by the people around you, creating the illusion of a completely genuine and down to earth rocker who dabbles in acting, philanthropy and all around goodness. No one’s ever had a bad experience because no one’s ever truly met you. Not the real you.” She takes a deep breath as she shakes her head in disbelief now, a sarcastic laugh leaving her mouth, “And I thought, I really thought, that I had been wrong. Because these past months you really fooled me with your sweet smile and deep eyes. But when it comes down to it, you tricked me just like everyone else.”

Harry stares at her blankly and she shakes her head once more, feeling foolish. For thinking Harry was someone he wasn’t. For thinking the past few months had been real. For thinking that tonight would go off without a hitch. And the shit part of it was that she had really hoped that all of it was true. She wanted this to be her life, but her instincts had been right. Beware of the picture perfect because it always is just a mirage of deceit and lies.

“All I’ve got to say is you’re a damn good actor Harry, so at least you’ve got that going for you.” Then she pushes back from the table and stands, turning to Nick and Lily. “I really am so sorry, I understand that you probably want me to leave, so I’ll just be going,” her voice faltering at the end, she wasn’t as strong as she liked to pretend and she was pretty sure she just ruined her chances of working again in Hollywood. You’d have to be an idiot to be an enemy of Harry Styles and she feels like she just became his first.

“No!” Nick says quickly, standing too, “I think things just escalated really quickly and some things were said that both of you didn’t mean. Um...just, let’s take a few minutes to cool off. Harry could you and Lily deal with the dishes and I’m going to talk with Y/N alone.”

Everyone nods and Y/N follows Nick down a hallway, a little confused but following after he beckons her with his hand. They go out a side door and end up on a porch in the backyard. He stoops down and opens a little sitting mailbox she didn’t see and pulls out a pack of cigarettes and a lighter. He places one between his teeth and then offers one to her. She accepts, not usually a regular smoker, but right now seemed like a fair time to indulge in the bad habit. She needed to calm her rapidly beating heart.

He lights the cigarette for her when he sees her shaking hands and then in turn lights his own. They stand on the porch beside each other and stare out into the dark night sky.

“Well, this wasn’t how tonight was supposed to go,” Nick starts, after a few exhales of smoke.

“No,” she laughs nervously, her foot toeing at the wooden slate on the porch. “I shouldn’t have tried to make a joke.”

“No one’s to blame,” Nick says quickly, glancing at her, “You and Harry...you both have really strong personalities and I don’t think either of you are used to being challenged.”

She nods along, she definitely had to agree after the argument they had both willingly gotten into in front of other people.

“I think that can be a really good thing, challenging each other, because then you two can both grow. But what happened in there was more of a battle to the death rather than a friendly spar.”

“Yeah,” she exhales, flicking at the burning cigarette between her fingers, “I don’t know why he gets under my skin sometimes in a way I’ve never dealt with and it’s kind of uncomfortable so I lash out, I guess.”

Nick stays quiet, taking a drag of his cigarette.

“Ugh,” she groans, “I wish I hadn’t done that. We were doing so well, it’s like I don’t even really know what I’m saying, it’s like I can’t handle a friendly spar, I always end up going in for the kill - as you put it.”

She rubs at her face with her free hand and then takes a drag herself. Nick bites at his lower lip, trying to think of a solution.

“Y’know? Lily and I had concocted this plan to try and set you and Harry up tonight,” he says slowly, revealing the plan that had clearly been taken off the table as they just needed to attempt to salvage cordiality.

“Really?!” She’s in complete disbelief and slight dismay that the plan was seemingly ruined.

“Well,” he sputters, “When the two of you aren’t throwing verbal fireballs at each other, you’re actually quite sweet to one another. Those fond little glances you hope no one sees, well he does that too, and you both fail miserably because I see it all the time. I’m sure plenty of people do too.”

“Oh,” she states, visibly deflating. She looks to the ashtray conveniently on a table behind her and presses out the rest of the cigarette. “Should probably talk to him, huh?”

Nick nods, stamping out his nub of a cigarette as well. They go back inside and into the kitchen where Lily and Harry have plated dessert. Harry looks a little sheepish, likely having a similar conversation with Lily and she wouldn’t be surprised if her expression looks similar, if not a bit more flushed from the outdoor chill.

Lily murmurs that she and Nick are going to eat their dessert in the living room, a fair bit away from the kitchen and the two now deflated counterparts nod and then stare at each other, knowing what they need to do.

“Can we talk?” Harry rasps out, his voice even lower as he speaks softly, a mere foot away from her in the kitchen.

She nods, but moves further from him to lean against the counter and tuck her hands behind her. She’s lost her appetite and doesn’t want Harry to see her shaking digits.

He’s ducked his head and a stray curl falls over his forehead, laying there softly. He doesn’t move to fix it, just stares at his feet until she begins to talk. He can’t not look at her face when she speaks.

“So…” She slowly starts, not enjoying the tension in the room. Her eyes can’t meet his though, his stare dark and unnerving like usual, but almost painfully so now. “I can start.” She kicks at the tiling on the floor like she had done outside as well, trying to not think about the eyes trained on her right now. “I’m sorry I lashed out on you, Harry. I didn’t mean what I said, it was just a heat of the moment response.”

“I’m sorry, too,” Harry says immediately once she finishes speaking, “I shouldn’t have gotten upset over a silly joke and brought up a sensitive subject. Then it escalated…”

“Yeah, I really liked the friendship we’ve garnered these past few months and I just can’t believe I almost ruined everything - including my career…” she squeaks at the end and tears start to roll from her eyes. “Oh god,” she is hit with the gravity of all that she almost ruined as Harry stares at her again. “I’m so sorry, Harry, I really am. Do you forgive me? I don’t think I could stand it if you didn’t.”

She stands there and feels sobs wrack through her and her hands go to cover her face out of embarrassment. She had caused a scene and now she was making another one. In front of Harry.

In an instant his arms are wrapped around her frame and he’s hushing her cries. They had never hugged before, but now seemed like as good a time as ever. His arms were strong around her and she pressed her face into his chest, not caring at all about how she looked or whether this was worse than getting in a fight and running off.

“Of course I forgive you,” he says and then begins repeating her name over and over, trying to soothe her. He definitely had been hurt by her words, but it seemed like she was more upset about the whole situation than he was and he didn’t think bringing up what specifically had hurt him would help her frame of mind.

She settles after some time, her whimpers and tears subsiding after being rocked into a more peaceful mindset with the help of Harry’s calming voice and reassuring embrace.

“I really am sorry,” she whispers again.

Harry pulls his neck back and his head off the top of her head to look at her face. It was tear stained and her eyes were glassy, lips slightly puffy. He gave her a soft tight-lipped smile. “No more apologies,” he states sternly and then softens again at the slight quiver in her lip. He pulls from her a little more, leaving her at arm's length, with his hands still attached to her hips, fingers slipping over the plaid fabric. “I meant to tell you this earlier, before things…” he stares at her face again and she holds it this time, “You look beautiful tonight.”

She scoffs and her eyes immediately drop to her feet, “Definitely not anymore.” She doesn’t believe Harry.

“‘M serious,” he insists. His right index finger goes to rest beneath her chin and brings her face up to look back at him.

“Sure,” she says, still not convinced but not sure how else to respond. She feels herself warming at all the positive attention he’s pouring into her.

His gaze won’t falter from her face, he’s intent upon making her understand him. He whispers her name, “Accept the compliment.”

“You’re stubborn,” she notes.

“So are you,” he counters quickly.  

“Fine, thank you,” she sighs when he won’t stop giving her that look of his. That look that makes her want to melt into the ground because it feels like she’s the only person in the world. “Though you looked especially good tonight, too,” she adds, her hands rubbing over his shoulders softly.

“Thank you,” Harry states lowly, the words only traveling to her ears. His hands fiddle with the sides of her top, thinking about the night and where they were now. Her eyes were red from crying and overall she looked tired beyond her years. “Do you want me to take you home?”

“That’d be nice.”

They make a quiet farewell to Nick and Lily, as well as apologies from both her and Harry. They don’t speak in the car and the music plays loud enough for it to not seem unreasonable for them to be silent. Harry’s hands don’t tap against the steering wheel, they sit in their spots stoically doing their job and nothing more. She watches the window, legs crossed and hands clasped in her lap. She’s thankful for the music because she knows that even though they had talked, it wasn’t enough. What she had said was hurtful and one apology wasn’t enough for how she had behaved. She didn’t think her and Harry would be the same after tonight, but the silence made it possible for her to pretend none of it had happened.

Just as Harry’s car is pulling up the apartment complex that is far darker now, the harsh splatter of rain begins to fall on the pavement and the sleek black car the two are still sat in.

“Oh,” she comments offhandedly, just responding to what she had noticed.

The rain grows louder when Harry parks and then turns off the car. He glances at her for the first time since they got into the car. She registers the look out of the corner of her eye, her face still looking out at the rain. She loved the rain, but there wasn’t always a lot in Southern California, especially not in Palm Springs. It seemed that tonight was different.

“Well,” Harry breaks his silence, she thinks that’s her cue to leave and unbuckles her seatbelt, but he continues. “This certainly wasn’t how I expected this night to go.”

She stops moving, her hand hovering over the handle of the door. She sits back and settles into the seat, feeling her teeth bite into the plush of her bottom lip.

“That’s what people keep saying,” her eyes remain on the rain hitting the front of the car, the splatters of seemingly black liquid that form when the clear rain touches the onyx hood of the car.

“Huh?” Harry grows perplexed at the rather wistful tone of her and how she won’t look at him again. He was still hurt, but he had hoped them talking in the kitchen had straightened some things out. During the car ride he hadn’t wanted to talk, but it didn’t mean he was still angry with her. Just confused, and growing further confused by the second.

“Oh,” she repeats, “Didn’t Lily say? Her and Nick concocted that dinner in hopes to set us up.”

Harry hums, knowing that because Nick had left out a little part of that plan. That he had been a part of it. He had been talking with Nick about getting to know her better outside of work and how Nick had thought it’d be a good idea to have dinner so he had told Lily and they set it up like a casual dinner party. Harry didn’t know how to respond because her knowing that he was in on the plan might just make matters worse. He really didn’t think things could get much worse, but it seemed that they always managed to make it happen so in the end he decided to keep his mouth shut.

“I don’t know if we’d ever be able to work out differences out for that,” she decides to continue, when Harry stays quiet. She scans the interior of the car and watches Harry for the briefest moment before going back to looking out the window. “Nick said that we challenge each other to grow, but all I see us do is hurt each other.”

Her voice is just above the rain pattering outside the car and Harry thinks it sounds almost melodic if it weren’t for the sadness laced in every word.

“I disagree,” he states before wetting his lips.

“Of course you do,” she laughs in spite of herself.

“Even after all these months together and you still don’t get it. I like you.”

“You don’t like me, I don’t know how you could ever like me,” she shakes her head. “We just...we get under each other’s skin. You can make me so angry sometimes and I know I make you angry too. And when we’re not angry, we’re focussed on something that doesn’t have to do with ourselves.”

“I don’t think what you feel for me is anger,” Harry insists, “Just because something feels burning and fiery, frustrating even, doesn’t mean it’s anger.”

His body shifts closer to the center divide and she turns to face him finally. His eyes are extra dark in this lighting, which is barely there from a streetlamp a ways off. She longs for the comfort of his light green eyes, the soft pale glow of the moss that seems to have been trapped within his iris. Maybe for that reason she unknowingly leans closer to him.

“Then what is it?” She whispers, eyes blinking slowly as her breathing grows strained.

“Passion.”

Immediately, her head is tilting to meet his lips. Her mind knows one thing, she needs to be kissing Harry right now. And then she is. His left hand goes to cup her cheek as his lips attach themselves to hers. His soft lips press to hers in a long searing kiss. They stay there for a moment, pressing all of that passion and frustration into the kiss.

She presses impatiently forward, her lips starting to move more, wanting to kiss him deeper. Harry obliges, parting his lips and kissing her more vigorously. He licks into her open mouth and smiles at the sound she makes in appreciation for his actions.

She’s shifted to have herself kneeling on the leather seat and she’s leaning over the console. One of her hands finds purchase on Harry’s thigh and grasps tightly, her other at the back of his neck, pressing him closer if it were possible.

His chest is pressing against hers as he pulls her closer. He kisses her and his fingertips rub softly at the apple of her cheek. Eventually they run behind the shell of her ear and trail down her neck.

Eventually, she pulls away and stares at Harry. She watches as his eyes flutter open gently. His soft eyelashes dust his cheeks before moving away, allowing his eyes to peer at her in the dark.

Her breathing feels a little irregular after the kissing and she’s sure she is heaving her chest slightly, likely mirroring Harry’s chest as well.

“So, where to now?” She inquires, lips quirked up at her suggestion.

Harry giggles and scratches his nose against his index finger.

-

Harry doesn’t stay the night, he walks her up to her apartment door though. He kisses her chastley in front of her door and wraps an arm around her waist as he does so. He bids her a goodnight and a promise of seeing her soon.

They don’t see each other for a month. Both of them had been so blissful after the endorphins of kissing their person that they had forgotten that filming had wrapped. They weren’t set to work for a month. Harry texted her the next morning informing her that he’d be in England until filming resumed. She was still going to be in California, filming was moving back to Los Angeles, so she’d be back in her place there. Her family knew she was working, so they had sent her presents ahead to her place instead. Angie, her only true friend in the area, was spending her time with her actual family and Y/N didn’t want to intrude.

So the holidays were going to be spent alone. Those four weeks alone passed surprisingly quickly. She practiced techniques on herself, bought a tiny Christmas tree like the one in A Charlie Brown Christmas, watched A Charlie Brown Christmas and just about every other holiday movie possible. She fell in love with young Hugh Grant and Colin Firth for the thousandth time. She sang carols to herself and decorated her place with decorations from Target. She jammed out to the new Miley Cyrus album and held dance parties for herself in the house. She baked cookies and even attempted a trifle after watching a Great British Bake Off episode. She did and she did all in hopes that her mind wouldn’t wander to the guy who hadn’t called.

Harry texted occasionally, but it was infrequent at best. He was a busy person, she knew that. She knew who he was. And she didn’t want her mind to have enough time to feel sorry for herself. For her to think that she was just somebody to pass the time with while at work, because if she stopped doing things that’s where her mind would wander. Why did her mind spiral like it did? She had no idea, she’d always been like that.

His absence, their separation, made her question if her own feelings were even true. She wondered if when she saw him he would act as if nothing had happened. As if he hadn’t said their relationship was passionate and she had kissed him until she couldn’t breath.

Too much time alone, she needed some fresh air. On January 2nd, after an uneventful night at home and a lackluster countdown washed down with cheap champagne, she decided to go and walk around near her place. There was a coffee shop that wasn’t extremely expensive that she also liked that she figured she would get coffee from. After a brisk walk, she walked through the store's doors and ordered an iced green tea. As she waited, she watched the other customers around her, wishing to see a friendly face, someone she knew. And seconds later, she was met with half of that wish. Someone she knew, not necessarily a friendly face.

“Autumn.” She states with a grimace when someone taps her on the shoulder and she spins around.

“Y/N? It is you!” Autumn, one of the PA’s from Don’t Worry Darling who was especially in Harry’s business, exclaims overly happy as per usual.

Y/N bites the inside of her cheek and gives a tight lipped smile, trying her best to be cordial.

“How’s your holiday been!” Autumn asks.

“Great. You?”

“So great!” She’s quick to lean closer and say in a hushed tone, “But I miss working on set, especially getting to see that Harry everyday. He’s just so gorgeous.”

A breath gets stuck in Y/N’s chest at the mention of Harry’s name. Her brows can’t help but raise a bit at Autumn’s comment. Even lowering her voice didn’t make it feel alright to talk about Harry like this. He was her friend after all.

“Sure.” Y/N nods abruptly, realizing Autumn wants some recognition of what she’s just said. Y/N’s eyes glance around the room, hoping for an out like her drink is ready or something - no such luck.

“I mean,” Autumn keeps talking, of course, “You’re so lucky. You get to see him shirtless, like what? Everyday practically? Don’t tell me you don’t miss that just a little bit!”

“I miss working,” Y/N says, avoiding what Autumn is trying to get her to say. “And Harry’s my friend, could you maybe not talk about him like that with me?”

Autumn’s eyes widened in shock, her lips parted dumbfounded by her co-worker's response. Y/N’s name is called for her drink and she’s thankful for the serendipitous nature of that sound getting her out of the awkward situation she had just been in.

When she gets back to her apartment, she surprisingly has a text from Harry himself. She’s always telling everyone; speak of the devil and he will appear, in one way or another. It’s a Happy New Year well wish followed by a separate text asking how she was.

It was sent a minute ago so she decides to try and give him a call. She preferred talking on the phone over texting.

It rings a few times and then, again surprisingly, he picks up.  

“‘Lo?” His voice is nice and deep and sounding extra British after his weeks surrounded by family and such.

“Harry,” she sighs contentedly.

“Happy to hear your voice,” he says her name and she can tell he’s smiling just like she is, from ear to ear.

She bites at her lip, hearing him say her name.

“I’m well, thanks,” she says after a moment of happy silence.

“What?” Harry laughs, confused.

“You texted asking me how I was and I called to respond.”

“Got it,” Harry chuckles, and she hears him shuffling around, likely sitting down on something.

“How are you?” She continues.

“Good, starting to wind down for the day,” he lists off the things he’s been doing over the past few days. Some of it work related, some of it family activities. All of it fun, he insists. “What did you do today?” He finishes, knowing she was an avid activity doer based off of the snaps she had sent him over the past few weeks.

“Tidied my place, went to the coffee shop and got iced tea…” she tries to think and then she gasps, “Oh! And I saw Autumn, one of the Don’t Worry Darling PA’s -”

“The one who’s obsessed with me?”

“Exactly!” She laughs, “And I may have kind of told her off… accidentally.”

“Accidentally told her off?” Harry repeats, incredulous. “How’d you do that?”

“Well,” she doesn’t want to tell him the rest, but there’s also a tiny part of her that really does, “She was gushing about you, which, ew. And then she asked if I missed seeing you shirtless everyday.”

“Well do you miss seeing me shirtless?” Harry smirks.

“Oh shut up!” She’s quick to reply.

“So you do?”

“If I really wanted to see you shirtless, all I’d have to do is type in “Harry Styles sh” and it would come up,” she rolls her eyes even though she knows he can’t see them. “Wouldn’t even need the whole word. Guaranteed.”

“Uh-huh?” Harry questions still, “If you want me to send you shirtless pictures that the rest of the world hasn’t seen, Y/N, all you have to do is ask.”

“I do not want you to send me shirtless pictures of yourself!” She exclaims. She feels like jumping out of a window right now. This conversation had escalated so quickly and she felt herself flushing, maybe even perspiring a little bit. And she also knew that she also would probably like it if he sent her shirtless pictures, which made this whole thing worse.

“Offer stands,” he says, smug as he normally was, happy he got to banter with her again. It had been dull without her, if he was honest with himself. “If you ever find yourself in need, just send a cheeky text and I’ll whip one out for you, no matter where I am or what I’m doing.”

“See this sounds like you’re saying something sincere, but really you’re just telling me you’ll send me nudes at any time.”

“No one said anything about nudes!”

“Shirtless, nude, sounds like you’re getting too caught up in the details, hon.”

“No!” He protests, “You’re the one who’s supposed to be flustered right now, not me!”

“Aww, you’re flustered,” She coos.

Harry groans. “Whatever. I’ll be back on the 8th, be ready to go out on the 9th. I’m taking you on a proper date.”

“How do you know I’m going to say yes?” She bite her lip again, she’s really sweating now. She couldn’t believe he had just asked her out on a date out of nowhere. Out of them just joking about nudes. Maybe she didn’t know Harry as well as she thought.

“Because you called me,” he says confidently.

“I call everyone.”

“But I don’t offer shirtless pictures to everyone.”

“That has nothing to do with me saying yes to this date.”

“Or does it?”

She laughs at his words, at how his voice still manages to convey every facial expression and quirk of his lips. She knows there’s a smile on his lips as he stares in the distance, imagining her face just as she is his.

“Yes.” She smiles.

“Yes!” He repeats happily.

She hears him stand up and spin around possibly and she chuckles slightly, amused at the silly man across the world who had seemed to have stolen her heart.

“See you soon, Harry.”

“Not soon enough.”

-

On the Saturday of their date, Harry insists on picking her up. He meets her at her door and winks at her after pulling away from their short hug. He laces his hand in hers and she follows behind him as he all but drags her to his car that is downstairs. He seems giddy. His hair has grown out in the month he’s been gone and she knows they’ll cut it when filming resumes. He’s wearing Gucci flared blue jeans - she knows from the big logo on the bottom left pant leg - a ‘Waiting for Sunset’ graphic tee beneath a black cardigan with little animals and items knitted in it. And of course, his dirty ass vans. She had hoped that maybe Christmas would bring him a fresh pair from someone, but it seemed there was no such luck.

Either way, he looked good and upon scanning his outfit, she was pleased that she had dressed correctly for the occasion, knowing one of the sins of Los Angeles was being improperly dressed wherever you might go. Harry had said casual, but casual can always mean so many different things. She got it right with light wash high-waisted levi’s, a brown cream rib-knit long sleeve that buttoned like it could be a cardigan, and some fun chunky boots that added some height to her normal stature. She had contemplated between this and possibly twenty other tops and a few other bottoms. Landing on this felt right, plus it didn’t clash with Harry, the color of her shoes actually matched the color of the snake on the cardigan.

They both compliment each other on the way out to his car and she giggles when he stops and twirls her around. He says he didn’t get a “proper look” before for him to compliment her adequately. After the twirl, he nods and starts them off again, complimenting the specific pieces of her clothes and says she looks beautiful again. His giddiness was contagious.

“No Range tonight,” she muses when Harry stops them in front of a Mercedes-Benz cream convertible, top up.

“Not working,” he replies, unlocking the car with the key into the passenger’s side door handle.

She smiles and slides into the car and watches him jog around to his side and unlock it as well.

“Tonight is going to be fantastic,” he says, leaning over the console and kissing her cheek, just beside her lips.

And when he pulls away with that smug smile of his, she knows he kissed her there on purpose. But the little tease only makes her smile more. He was good at this. And he was right.

The night was fantastic. As was every night after. And she learned that Harry was so much more than anything she ever thought. She counted herself lucky to be loved by a man like him.

[animeomegas]

Omega!Naruto getting married

Anon: Omg omg bro I just saw the amazing and wonderful art of naruto in a white dress and it just got me thinking. Could you do naruto and his alpha getting married pllleeeaaassssee🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺I also wanna show you the picture soo badd he's so beautifullllllll

(Omg tag me in this 🥺I want to see!!! Naruto is so so beautiful you’re absolutely right and I love him and this was so far down my writing list but I just really wanted to write it anyway. I hope you enjoy reading this as much as I enjoyed writing it. <3)

I wrote for a Western wedding because I have no idea how Japanese weddings work (although I’m taking a degree in Japanese rip)

Warnings: Alcohol mention.

This boy will never admit it, but he always dreamt of getting married when he was a child.

When he was really young, he asked the Sandaime why people get married and the Hokage told him that marriage is what two people did when they loved each other more than anyone else.

Naruto always wanted someone to love him and so he clung to this in a similar (but less extreme) way, to how he clung to his dream of becoming Hokage. 

He always imagined his future self as the most badass ninja/Hokage with  a beautiful mate/spouse and some little prankster pups who would love him and who he would love unconditionally in return. 

And so when his alpha finally proposes to him.

This man goes a bit crazy.

As soon as the shock wears off, you suddenly get bombarded with him shouting about a thousand different things he wants at the wedding, and what food there should be, and “Do you think they sell orange wedding cakes?”.

He wants an insanely big and extravagant wedding.

It’s probably best to just humour him.

Proposal:

You were already mated to Naruto when you proposed.

Naruto lowkey believes in soulmates and when you had been courting for about a year he knew you were his. 

His very next heat came around, and boom, you were mated. 

You proposed about a year and a half after that, spurred on by Naruto’s less than subtle hints about it.

Naruto loved being around his friends and he also loved positive attention, so the idea for your proposal came naturally. 

You threw a get together for him and his closest friends. Good food, plenty of drinks and board games.

Naruto was laughing and smiling all night. He teamed up with you for the games, sitting on your lap the entire time. 

He used this vantage point to demand congratulatory and commiserative  kisses everytime something happened in the game. You could feel him smiling into the kiss each time.

The plan was working perfectly so far. 

As the evening began to wind down, you stood up, immediately garnering the attention of everyone in the room.

You cleared your throat awkwardly as all the eyes in the room settled on you. Sakura gave you a thumbs up behind Naruto’s shoulder.

‘You got this!’ She mouthed, eyes twinkling with excitement. With her encouragement in mind, you took one final deep breath before beginning.

“Sorry to interrupt you all, but there’s one more thing I have to do before everyone goes home.” You started, successfully avoiding any unfortunate stutters or out of control nervous scents.

Naruto furrowed his brows at you, confused. You only smiled, silently telling him to wait. 

“I have an... announcement of sorts to make.” 

“Then get on with it.” Drawled Shikamaru, smirking at you from the corner. You glared at him for teasing you, but he was too busy dodging a ‘shut up’ punch from Sakura to notice.

“As you all know, I’ve had the honour of being mated for Naruto for almost two years now,” You focused your gaze onto your mate, watching him perk up at the mention of his name. “and I have been madly in love for every minute of it.” You paused thoughtfully. “Even the minute when he drank out of date milk and threw up all over my bed.” 

Naruto went red as his friends giggled at him. He let out an embarrassed whine as you joined in the laughter. 

“You didn’t have to tell them that!” He groaned, voice muffled from the cushion he had temporarily buried his face in. 

“What I’m trying to say, is that when I met Naruto my life changed forever, for the better. I can no longer fathom a life where I could live without him.”

You turned to address Naruto directly. He was watching you closely. Maybe he was starting to guess where this was going.

“When I wake up next to you, when we invent terrible ramen flavours together, when I bandage you after training because you tried to show off and hurt yourself,” You laughed breathily. “Those are the moments when I am the happiest. The common denominator is you, Naruto, my beloved mate.”

No one else in the room mattered now apart from you and Naruto. You took one final breath to steel yourself, before dropping on one knee. Naruto gasped, his hands coming up to cover his mouth. 

“Which is why I want to be with you for the rest of our lives.” You pulled the ring box out of your pocket, opening it to reveal a simple golden band. 

“Will you marry me, Naruto?”

Naruto nodded furiously, his bottom lip wobbling as his eyes filled up with tears.

“YES! YES! YES! A thousand times yes!!” 

Naruto threw himself into your arms as his friends applauded and whooped in the background. You caught him with a happy laugh, leaning to kiss him. Naruto reciprocated enthusiastically, earning a few wolf whistles from his friends.

Naruto’s scent was that of pure sugar and you revelled in it, certain that your own was the same. Eventually you pulled away from the kiss, wiping a tear from Naruto’s eye, cradling his face gently in your hands.

“A toast,” Chouji’s voice called out, interrupting your thoughts. “To the newly engaged couple!” 

All your friends cheered, raising their glasses in a toast to your engagement. 

“May their love last forever!”

You laughed gleefully. Forever indeed.

Planning:

Naruto has a lot of ideas and a lot of passion, but not so much in the planning skills department. 

I hate to say it, but Naruto is a little bit of a Bridezilla type. A cute one though, so that’s better?

He really really wants a lot of random specific stuff that he dreamt about as a child, but he’s not good at organising it so you get a lot of:

“Alphaaaaa, can you book [insert incredibly specific wedding thing]?”

“Alpha, alpha, alpha, can you find a [insert incredibly specific wedding thing] for me, please???”

Here is a list of some, not all, of the things Naruto wants for his wedding. Bolded are ‘no compromises allowed’.

A traditional, white wedding dress (He knows he can wear whatever he wants, but his life has only ever been atypical and he just really wants a traditional white male omega wedding dress.)

An orange wedding cake (Naruto wants an orange wedding cake, but he can be persuaded to settle for orange detailing instead of the solid orange monstrosity he originally wants.)

A ramen course ( he wants one of the courses to be ramen of course! The idea of a really expensive, fancy ramen course just makes him melt with excitement. Nobody is surprised when they see ramen on the menu.)

A big wedding (He will invite the whole village if you allow him to. Ultimately though, as long as there’s room for every friend he’s ever had, he’s happy.)

Double barrelling your surnames (He really wants to take your name. Now that you’re married and mated, you’re a team for life and he wants that reflected in your names, but he also spent most of his life without family, and his name is one of the only connections he has to his mother. As such, he would never be able to lose it completely.)

A stag do/bachelor party (He just thinks it would be fun to get together with his other omega friends. He wants to hang out with his friends and wedding party for a night without anyone being away on missions for once.)

A honeymoon in Konoha (Naruto doesn’t want to travel for his honeymoon. Konoha is his home and his favourite place to be, so he wants to be there. If you desperately want to travel, you could probably organise a half-and-half style honeymoon. Half in Konoha, half wherever you want.)

Two empty chairs for his parents during the service (He has lost so many people, he could never leave empty chairs for them all. He keeps everyone he’s lost in his mind on his wedding day, but his parents are the ones he misses the most on his special day. When he looks at the empty chairs, he likes to think that they would be proud watching him get married.

The Wedding:

Naruto is fully bouncing off the walls.

He’s so excited. And nervous. But excited.

He gets ready and when he gazes at himself in the mirror, he feels amazing. As a child, he always thought he would cover his whiskers with make up, thinking they were on of the reasons people treated him differently. But now, as he stares at his reflection, he wears his whisker marks proudly.

Everyone pitched in to make the wedding perfect. Ino with the flowers, Chouji with the food, etc.

The wedding was kind of a bizarre mix. Some parts were strictly traditional and other parts were... orange. 

Naruto had plenty of fireworks set up to go off in the evening, and this ended up being one of his favourite parts of the day.

Naruto asked Iruka to walk him down the aisle about a month befpre the wedding. Iruka 100% cried when that happened. And then Naruto cried because Iruka was crying, it was an adorable mess. 

You got married outside. The sun was so bright, and the weather was warm but with a slight breeze. 

Naruto and Iruka wait just out of everyone’s view. When they send the signal, everybody stands.

You watched in awe as your mate turned the corner, grasping tightly at Iruka sensei’s arm.

He was stunning.

The sunlight reflected off his blond hair like light off of water, his white dress adding to the blinding effect. Naruto had refused to tell you what he would be wearing today, but this was more beautiful than you could have ever imagined. 

As he reached the end of the aisle, your mate gave up on being graceful, running the last few steps and throwing himself into your embrace. You caught him easily, twirling him around. Laughter rang through the hall.

“You look stunning.” You whispered in his ear, gently stroking up and down his arms.

“So do you.” He grinned in return.

The ceremony flew by. You had tried your hardest to listen, but you couldn’t stop staring at your mate instead. His eyes were always one of your favourite of his physical features, but they had looked especially magical today. 

Before you knew it, it was time for your first dance.

You hadn’t planned anything and you certainly didn’t take any lessons, so it was just you and him, in each others’ arms, swaying together to the music. 

Naruto felt warm in your arms as you swayed. You took a moment to nuzzle your face into his scent glands, pressing a firm kiss to his mating mark while you were there. Naruto hummed in delight, holding onto you even tighter.

“My omega. My mate. My husband.” You breathed into his ear, knowing how much he loved his new title.

Naruto shivered and purred in response. “I love the sound of that, you know.”

“I’m aware.” You laughed, using the distraction to twirl him. Naruto completed his twirl before trying to twirl you as well. 

Other couples soon began to join you on the dance floor, but you and Naruto only had eyes for each other. 

“I love you, more than anything else in this world Naruto, never forget that.”

“I love you, too. Forever, I promise.”

“Do you love me more than ramen?”

“What? Can’t you just be happy with second place?”

“Narutoooo.”

“Fine... Joint first.”

“I hate you.”

Naruto barked out a laugh at the look on your face.

“No, you don’t.”

[canary3d-obsessed]

Restless Rewatch: The Untamed Episode 12 second part

(Masterpost) (Other Canary Funsies) 

Warning: Spoilers for All 50 Episodes!

After locking Wei Wuxian into some comically large chains, Wen Chao has him thrown into the dungeon, with an unpleasant surprise.

This Fucking Dog

Being a fan of The Untamed involves occasional second-hand embarrassment, like when they fly on their swords, or the zombies all have the same wig, or a fight sequence moves slower than everybody’s granny. It's ok because each of these things is offset by excellence in acting, story, costumes, weapons, sets, etc.

Then there's this fucking dog. 

The department of questionable practical effects really outdid themselves with this thing. Just seeing this awful creation on screen gives me so much cringe squick I can barely look at it. But for you, dear readers, I FORCED MY EYEBALLS to watch the entire dog sequence OVER AND OVER. Then I applied some brightness adjustments and looked at it EVEN MORE. 

Let's get desensitized! I’m going all in on this monstrosity.

First, this dog does not ever move its body or its feet. Its legs are totally immobile. It appears to be made of a big sawhorse with a stick for the neck. The head swings up and down and side to side. That’s it.  

“Animatronic” is too generous of a term for this thing. The animatronics at Chucky Cheese learned to play musical instruments and host birthday parties decades ago. This dog cannot play an instrument and it has to wait for Wei Wuxian to walk over to it before it can attack him. 

When it falls over after Wen Ning K.O’s it, it’s like a chair falling over. It just topples to the side, legs sticking straight out.  

(more after the cut)

Next, It has a mouth full of teeth, which opens and closes. And it has drool the texture of Astroglide Extra-Thick Gel. But...no tongue.

Seriously you guys, it literally does not have a tongue. They just sculpted a little bump at the at the bottom of its mouth, despite dogs being known for, like, lolling their tongues out of their mouths at every opportunity.

Moving along, it has dull, lifeless eyes, and its eyelids are visibly disconnected from the rest of its head, like a doll that mechanically shuts its eyes when you lay it down to sleep.

Finally, its fur looks like a fucking muppet, and it has random shiny spots all around its eyes and lips. These are probably supposed to be body fluids of some kind, but they just look like someone was careless with the cra-z-glue.

Xiao Zhan gamely tries to act opposite this ridiculous fail prop, but there is nothing remotely scary about it.  

Here is Wei Wuxian being scared. I replaced the animatronic dog with a reversed clip of my dog Pepper asking for a piece of cheese, and I think it looks more convincing this way. 

Ok, let's be done with this stupid fucking dog. Wen Ning knocks it out, Wen Chao criticizes it in the morning, and nobody ever speaks of it again. 

Wei Wuxian is so mortified to have endured this farce that when Lan Wangji asks him, much later, “why are you afraid of dogs?” he does not say “don’t you remember that time I got chewed on by a giant animatronic dog at Wen Chao’s place?” but instead pretends that this never fucking happened. 

Wen Ning to the Rescue

For contrast, the next dungeon scene is a really touching and important encounter between Wen Ning and Wei Wuxian. 

Wen Ning comes and knocks out the creature, and gives Wei Wuxian medicine. 

Wen Ning is doing this in defiance of his clan and his sister, simply because Wei Wuxian is his friend. Yes, he feels indebted, but Wen Qing saved WWX’s life once, so the tally is already even. Wen Ning is just super attached to Wei Wuxian, and vice versa; WWX calls him Wen-Xiong in this scene. 

When Wen Ning explains how to use the medicine, Wei Wuxian changes the subject to ask how WN and his sister are doing. He is bleeding, chained up, high on adrenaline and fear, and what he really wants is to hear how his friends are doing. When Wen Ning talks about Wen Qing’s troubles, Wei Wuxian wishes she would accept help, instead of always going it alone. 

Wei Wuxian thanks Wen Ning formally, and tells him no words can express his gratitude. Whether this is a literally correct translation, the gratitude both of these young men feel toward each other transcends words. It will become a driving force in both of their lives as they save each other from increasingly awful situations. 

Wen Ning tells Wei Wuxian about the burning of Cloud Recesses....the burning of the half we never visit. It would suck to damage that exquisite set, so I’m ok with that production choice, but creates some cognitive dissonance when characters get upset about the fire. 

Wei Wuxian reacts to the news of Lan Wangji’s injury by punching the concrete floor of the dungeon, which is dumb but also highly relatable. 

After Wen Ning leaves, Wei Wuxian decides to save the medicine for Lan Wangji, who might not even need it, while WWX is bleeding right now and definitely needs it. No matter how bad things are for him personally, Wei Wuxian is always thinking about ways to help the people he loves, and constantly seeing his own needs as less important than everybody else’s. 

Breakfast Time

After his night of terror and maiming, Wei Wuxian emerges as chipper as ever. Almost like he is already an expert at hiding his trauma from the people close to him. 

Lan Wangji gives him a careful look, taking in the sight of his ripped clothes and bloody neck and hands. 

Jiang Cheng is angry at Wei Wuxian for joking about his injuries, so he shoves him, potentially causing more injuries. 

Wei Wuxian laughs off the signs of torture and attempted murder and everyone goes along with it. Nobody knows what happened to him other than "dungeon" and what he looks like right now, and they’re all just like, okey dokey, I guess you’re fine.  

He’ll carefully laugh off his months in the burial mounds in the same way, later, and Jiang Cheng will accept it nearly as readily as he accepts this. But by that time Lan Wangji will see right through him.

Nie Huaisang mentions the Lan Clan in the course of discussing breakfast, and then everyone pauses awkwardly because they know that mentioning this will make Lan Wangji think about the recent attack on his home and the deaths of many of his fellow disciples. Whereas if nobody had mentioned it, he totally wouldn't think about it. That's how grief works, right?

Insult to Injury

Wen Chao decides to spend some time gloating about battles and insulting people's families, which he does with Wen Qing standing behind his eyeline so that she can warn Wei Wuxian not to let his brother go off. 

Jiang Cheng is not going to let anybody who isn't his mother insult his father like that, but in a reversal of their normal roles, Wei Wuxian restrains him and helps keep him from doing something rash.

Monster Hunting

Wen Chao makes everyone read out loud until Nie Huaisang wisely faints and gets carried off. Then he gathers everyone for a monster hunt.  It's unclear why he wants to go monster hunting but he sure does, and bringing the hostages along might make them all die, which would be a nice bonus.

The cultivators wander around en masse in a small section of forest, thoroughly covering every inch of it. This is a great way to hunt for a dead body but not so good for living prey. 

Wei Wuxian and Jiang Cheng stand around like bitchy queens at a dance club, talking smack about Wen Chao and his girlfriend. 

Wei Wuxian brings out a salty phrase and Jiang Cheng wonders what websites he's been going to. 

Dude. Lighten up.

Leave that Boy Alone

Wei Wuxian notices Lan Wangji struggling, and now that he knows the backstory, he's determined to help. Jiang Cheng is determined to stop him.

This is, once again, the fundamental disagreement between the brothers, and it's never going to be solvable. Jiang Cheng's specific dislike of Lan Wangji may be rooted in jealousy, but his belief in not helping outsiders runs a lot deeper than that.

For Wei Wuxian, there is no such thing as having helped enough. If someone is his friend, he will never stop helping them, and he has a lot of friends, and makes new ones wherever he goes. He's always going to be giving something of himself, to the detriment of any conflicting obligations. 

Jiang Cheng tells him that Lan Wangji won't accept his help, and Wei Wuxian says that's not the point. 

What other people think, want, say, or do, is not going to have any effect on whether Wei Wuxian does what he feels is right. This is a bit of a problem where a person's right to self-determination conflicts with Wei Wuxian's need to help them, as Jiang Cheng will eventually discover.

Jiang Cheng's least effective argument is the one he relies on most often when they disagree: other people's problems are not our responsibility. He's saying this to an orphan who was eating trash and stealing scraps from dogs before Jiang Fengmian came into his life. 

Jiang Cheng doesn’t seem to realize the underlying logic of this argument. If it's wrong for Wei Wuxian to help the people he cares about, it was also wrong for Jiang Fengmian to help Wei Wuxian. Jiang Cheng loves Wei Wuxian and would willingly die for him, but he, like his mother, rejects the philosophy that brought them together in the first place.  

Wei Wuxian walks away from an upset and shocked Jiang Cheng to offer a piggyback ride to Lan Wangji.

...who won't accept it, but who will remember the offer forever.

Writing prompt: Thoughts of an animatronic dog

Soundtrack:  Five Nights at Freddy’s by The Living Tombstone

[addictofanimation]

Modern Day x Fantasy AU (TW for Human Trafficking)...

Kaeya and Diluc would probably have better chances of staying brothers if they met in a more modern setting. So what about a Modern Day AU that still takes place in the fantasy world of Teyvat? 

Teyvat has many amazing inventions thanks to Visions being used to help things along. Public service announcements for dangerous monsters, phones with holographic features, etc. However, for all the amazing things going on, there was still the sinister underground that every world has. 

It wasn’t uncommon for people to want to go to Khaenri’ah and bring one of the many exotic treasures back with them. Most didn’t come back and anyone who did, usually came back with nothing but some new scars from the exotic wildlife. If anyone was lucky they might be able to bring back a corpse of one of those animals. Extremely lucky if they managed to catch it alive. 

But the real prize? 

Nobody knows anything about the people. Anyone who has the misfortune of meeting them almost always wound up dead (ninety percent of the time). Very few have ever gotten out of those encounters alive. 

It was one of those people who managed to capture Kaeya while he was gathering whatever scarce food he could find for him and his father. He winds up getting caught by poachers and put on the black market; the first Khaenri’ahn to ever be brought out of the mysterious country. 

He’s blindfolded and taken to a discrete location to be sold to the highest bidder. He’s terrified by the sound of the crowd of leering people who initially seemed only slightly interested in him until his captor says something in a language he can’t understand, though he recognizes the name of his country before his blindfold is ripped off. When they hear it, the room seemed to erupt with some people even almost jumping out of their chairs trying to get a better look causing the boy to flinch back. 

What in the Seven did he do to deserve this?

----

Crepus was more than nervous about participating in a sting operation. He decided to help his friend, Frederica, when she needed a partner for the mission. The man himself never dealt with the black market, but Frederica had suspicions that a colleague, Eroch (who might be the criminal, Dottore, that her department had been searching for), was participating in illegal trafficking. 

They do wind up spotting him in the crowd near the middle while they sat in the back. 

Crepus almost puked when a child who couldn’t be older than eight (probably older and was just malnourished) was brought onto the stage. The “prize” of the evening. The second the child’s blindfold was removed, revealing an already bandaged eye, the man was struck by the boy’s star-shaped pupil. His undamaged eye was beautiful. He was pulled out of the thought when he saw that same eye fill with tears as the child flinched back. 

The wine tycoon wound up in a back and forth with Dottore, one trying to upstage the other. The madman eventually backed down when Crepus offered ten million dollars for him. Crepus smugly dropped back in his seat, for once ridiculously proud for being a billionaire. He had more than enough money to burn and there was no way he was going to let that poor child leave with a man who was most likely going to experiment on him. 

Then he paused as he realized what he had just done. Frederica looked as shocked as he felt when he turned to look at her in dawning horror. 

How was he going to explain this to Diluc?

[qqueenofhades]

What is an R1 university? What does that mean?

Lol, well. This is going to be more Arcane Academic Detail than anyone needs to know, but an R1 university is the highest research classification that an American university can receive and generally means they're especially recognized for nation- and world-leading academics, programs, etc. In other words, it's a fairly rare and prestigious designation that a university is (generally justly) proud of receiving. The university at which I presently work is one such. We just got a celebratory email from the provost reminding us that it's the two-year anniversary of that designation, etc. As noted, they also want to get a billion dollars in fundraising for the next cycle. So the point is: this is a highly ranked private university with substantial ability and plans to attract major capital. Good, right?

Not really, because my gripe with it is that (possibly to nobody's surprise, but still) we are still being squeezed to death. My department has no money and can't get a new chair because they expect the new chair to do the same amount of work for literally 25% of the money paid to the last one. Not surprisingly, the faculty is up in arms about this and we already all have too much work because we are critically under-staffed (four professors currently, they won't approve a new tenure-track search while also cutting our budget in everything else), so nobody is in a hurry to take on even more responsibility for a giant pay cut. We are located in one of the top 10 most expensive metro areas in the country and despite being a program co-director with a PhD, I am paid barely more (literally, two dollars an hour more) than a graduate student assistant in the same department. As such, despite working full-time and managing one of the college's largest departments, I am in the "yeah here's my paypal if you feel like it, I would really appreciate it" stage of things. This is, to say the least, Incredibly Sucky, and it's not fair to anyone involved.

I am applying to a lot of new jobs, both inside and outside this university, but that is still as much as a crapshoot as it ever is. I am working on self-publishing my two existing original novels because I likewise need to make even a few more bucks to be able to consistently afford food. It's all very stupid and stressful, so. Yeah.

[jedimasterkelly]

Shit happens when you're a woman. A lot of shit. Bad shit. And a lot of the time, you will run into doctors who do not listen to you. Will not care about you, and will not take you seriously.

This story is about the Great Cancer Scare of 2020.

I was 49, and 3 yrs post menopause. I was pleased about that, as it means no more period ever. I could deal with the occasional hot flashes, and the snapping of necks of anyone who dared bother me. Then in May of 2020, after the pandemic fully hit and the University I work at closed and sent all of us to work from home, I got very sick. Not from Covid, thankfully, but something else. I had started bleeding, and it wasn't menstrual blood. It was bright red and HEAVY. I was filling post-natal pads within 2 hours. I called the Women's Clinic where my OB-GYN lived. They couldn't see me until July. WTF! I called my GP, who got me in on an emergency basis, I mean, 3 yrs post-menopausal women don't just spring a leak, you know? My ovarian function had been almost nil for 3 years. He called my OB-GYN and demanded I get seen right away. They made an appointment for 2 weeks later. Keep reading, because it's quite a ride!

Seriously! 2 weeks later!

In the meantime, my GP discovered my thyroid was tanked out, so I was put on Levothyroxine 25mcg. It helped a lot. I started to feel a little bit more human, at least in the brain area. I finally got in to the OB-GYN, and he did a biopsy and trans-vaginal ultrasound. We got the results 2 weeks later and he called me in to go over them. He said I had hyperplasia with atypia. Cells were dividing rapidly, and he was very concerned. He recommended an endometrial ablation, or a full hysterectomy. At 49 he wasn't concerned with me having a sudden maternal urge (I have no kids), so he was fine with either choice. I decided on the hysterectomy, because why not? Endometrium grows back after an ablation, and why bother at my age? Just yank it all and let me get back to my life.

He said he didn't feel safe doing the procedure, since the cells were most likely cancerous and rapidly dividing, so he sent a referral to one of the cancer centers in OKC. I expected a call within a couple of weeks. I mean, really, if I have the early stages of endometrial cancer, they'd call me in immediately, right? Right?

Crickets. Literal crickets for 4 months! I was very concerned, hell, worried I was going to get full blown cancer and these jackasses weren't going to try and help me at all. I called OB-GYN several times during that 4 month period, and was told the cancer center in OKC wasn't returning their calls. I called them numerous times, and could never get a person on the phone.

I was told it was the pandemic. The pandemic was shutting everything down and causing huge backlogs for non-Covid issues to be seen. I told OB-GYN to refer me to the oncologist from Tulsa, who also worked once a month in Stillwater at the SMC Cancer Center. He didn't want to, he wanted me to see the doctor in OKC (who wasn't returning anyone's calls!) I called SMC Cancer Center and asked how soon I could get in with Dr. Thomas. His office called back within 2 hours asking for my chart and biopsy results. I had the Womens Clinic send my information to Dr. Thomas in Tulsa. Within a week, they called and had me on the schedule to see him in Stillwater on his next visit.

This is where the story gets good. And by good, I mean, WHAT THE ACTUAL FUCK. Thanks for sticking with me this far.

Got in to see Dr. Thomas. I researched him and learned we have the same Alma Mater. That day, we were both wearing t-shirts from said same Alma Mater. Instant bonding! I also work in Administration at said same Alma Mater, so we spent some time discussing (gossiping) about my department since he had taken classes with a lot of my faculty during his undergrad. Then he got serious and handed me my biopsy report. He told me he was going to assume I wasn't shown this, since I am:

1. A Master's of Science graduate student in Education Leadership - this making me a researcher who knows how to do research, do research, and understand research.

2. Work full time in a Physical Sciences department at a Big 12 University.

3. Edit manuscripts for my Dept. Chair, thus proving I am scientifically literate. You can't edit scientific manuscripts without having a good, solid knowledge of said science. If he's alternating between "adsorb" and "absorb", I have to understand his research in order to correct his manuscript. This is important because his manuscripts have to be peer reviewed before they can be published in a reputable journal.

"Read it to me, out loud," he said.

I started reading from the paper in my professional scientist voice. It didn't take long before I began to falter as I came to the realization I had been lied to.

"Read it again," he said.

This time, I read it with a lot more heat in my voice.

Diagnosis: no hyperplasia with atypia, no abnormal cells detected

Dr. Thomas waited for me to explode. I didn't. I just stared at him in anger and horror. He offered to do another biopsy to make sure, but he suggested I fire my OB-GYN immediately and find someone who actually gives a shit about me.

I was still randomly bleeding, 6-9 weeks at a time, so we agreed on another trans-vaginal ultrasound and biopsy. The attached photo shows he took 3 samples from my uterus. He wanted to be sure.

A little ditty about endometrial biopsies:

They hurt like a motherfucker.

Take 2-3 ibuprofen before you leave the house to go to your procedure.

Relax. It usually only lasts a couple of minutes. The doctor normally takes 1 or 2 samples. Pinch, snip, clip, done.

Not this guy. He wanted to be surely sure.

He went for a 3rd pinch snip clip. My uterus seized up in the most painful spasm I ever had in my life. I almost came off the table. He was seated on a little rolly stool so he shot back away from me before I could connect his head to my foot. He triumphantly held up his little weapon of Uterine Destruction and declared, "Got it!"

"Yeah, you almost got your ass kicked mister," I growled at him.

"It was worth it to get this beauty of a sample."

So, after a biopsy of your uterus, expect some bleeding and cramping. I had severe cramps for 2 days. I was not amused. We're talking laying in bed with a heating pad and ibuprofen every 4 hours kind of cramping.

Got the results back in a couple of weeks. No cancer. No hyperplasia. No abnormal cell growth. He recommended I find a new OB-GYN fast. I decided fuck it, I'm done. I'm never seeing another OB-GYN ever again.

Dr. Thomas said several times he's convinced my issues are endocrinal. I filed that away in the back of my mind.

(if you ever do test positive for cancer and you are in the Tulsa area, I highly recommend Dr. Eric Thomas! Make sure you have a sense of humor with him.)

My GP started pressuring me back in March of 2021 to find a new OB-GYN. The Women's Clinic has several, but they have a fucked up rule you can't switch doctors there. So if you go there, you are stuck with the same doctor and can't move over to his colleague on another floor. I saw my GP again, and asked if he was still best buds with a gynecologist who had his own clinic. He was always full, and not taking new patients, so GP would have to call his buddy to get me in.

Which he did. Buddy-GYN's office called the very next day to schedule me in. He had been sent my chart and was concerned about the long bleeds (6-9 weeks in duration) and why the fuck were they happening after being 3 yrs post-menopause.

I went in for a consult in April of 2021. First thing out of his mouth, "Has anyone ever talked to you before about PCOS?"

I laughed.

I laughed because every GYN I saw over the last 20 years told me I didn't have PCOS, endometriosis, or any sort of hormonal issues. I was just fat, lazy, and a piggy pig pig. I actually had one OB-GYN tell me to go on The Biggest Loser. Fat shamed while sitting there naked on his table after an invasive exam of my female bits. Thanks a lot, asshole.

I told him about that. He informed me he could tell by LOOKING at me I have the classics signs of PCOS. I use an epilator on my crazy man-hairs, so he asked if I was tweezing or waxing. I about fell out of my chair. Nobody ever believed me that I was having to remove crazy thick hairs off my chin and neck all the time. He asked if I ever had ovarian cysts. Affirmative, I was diagnosed with ovarian cysts the first time one exploded back in 1994. He stood there, holding the bridge of his nose and shook his head.

"Well, going by your chief complaints, your abdominal circumference, history of bursting cysts, and no period for 3 years, I am saying you have PCOS."

He went on to discuss my need for an appointment with an endocrine specialist, he was convinced my thyroid tanking out sent my ovaries back into production, and now my hormones are all over the place, most likely, and I needed specialized care.

He must have talked to GP, because I soon got a call from the endo clinic to come in.

This post is already long and tedious, but I am happy to say I finally have 3 doctors who listen to me. My new Endo doc tripled my levothyroxine and scheduled a follow up blood test for next month. Buddy-GYN talked me into a pap smear and cervical exam in July as well. He also wants a mammogram, which I begrudgingly need to schedule so he doesn't chew my ass in July when I walk in with no results. GP is working on my other issues (weight, bad fluid retention, etc...). We discovered from a blood test last Friday my iron levels are dangerously low. I am now on a Rx iron supplement. I've always struggled with anemia, but it never occurred to me or GP to check my iron levels. If you're a woman, and you feel like absolute dog shit and your doctor can't figure out why, have your iron and electrolytes tested. It'll probably take about 3-4 weeks for me to see any results from the iron supplement, but I can already see a reduction in fluid retention.

In September, I have an appointment with Dr. Le at Integris in OKC. He's a bariatric surgeon. I have gained so much weight from having PCOS and Hypothyroidism that I need to drop a lot of fat fast. I'm pretty healthy - I don't have the normal problems obese people tend to have. I'm not diabetic, don't have sleep apnea, my cholesterol levels are good. I am what they call "healthy fat" which seems like an oxymoron. However, it will improve my chances of getting approved for a sleeve gastrectomy.

I turned 50 last week, and had to endure 3 decades of no one listening to me. I feel I lost so many years of my life and I can never get them back. I hope this post reaches a lot of younger women having issues. Keep looking for a doctor who will listen to you. It sucks we have to hunt for these unicorns, but they do exist. I finally have a good team who actually cares about me.

You have a right to be listened to! You have a right to be heard!

I was asked: Who are my doctors?

Dr. Daniel Brown D.O. Stillwater Physicians Clinic

Dr. Yasuto Taguchi M.D. Taguchi Women's Clinic

Dr. Wynter Kipgen M.D. Stillwater Diabetes & Endocrinology

[weirdagnes]

💄RUDOLF’S DRAG RACE AU 🏁

ALRIGHT SO this AU originally started in our Yeah We Outlasting discord server, artists started drawing the characters in drag and I WOKE HMSHD real shit man. So I'm making a masterpost for drag au on behalf of the server✊✊

Outlast 1 = Season 1

Outlast 2 = Season 2

Whistleblower DLC = All Stars

All of the characters and ideas for the characters were written in collab with @gothivican, @panopt1c0n, @grahaam and the rest of the lads in the server, y’all have such beautiful brains. So anyways.

Here are the judges:

Rudolf Wernicke. Lowkey bias, literally goes to the backstage and tells Miles to beat Billy Hope in a lipsync because Billy can't continue on the show for some reason. Has favoritism towards Blaire, but was forced to sashay him away by the other two judges. Also this bitch is dying, literally has a breathing tank support behind his chair.

Pauline Glick. A very sharp critic. Wore the same shoes? Call out. Oh that's your signature makeup? UGLY tone it down. Sorry, the colors don't match, you'll be in the bottom two for that.

Paul Marion. The kindest judge. He will give constructive criticism in the nicest non-offensive way possible and compliment them after (because he would feel guilty about it).

Alice as guest star. Supportive as f u c k, huge fan, she cries when meeting the queens in Untucked. She can't help complimenting the queens every 10 seconds, she gives off the Leslie Jones’ enthusiasm.

Lisa Park as guest star. Like Alice, very supportive. She’s an artist, and will break down all the reasons why they are so good from an artist’s perspective. Crushes HARD on Wyssle Blower, she might’ve given her number after the show.

Lynn Langermann as guest star. She’s a judge, and she will judge. Gives out well constructed criticisms to all queens fair and square until she saw Angel Fromm (Blake) and just says “Wow what’s there to criticize?” Sallyzekiel hates her, Valentina and Angel on the other hand loves her very much.

 Here are the queens:

Miles Upshur as Kill-O-Meter. Primarily an insult comedy and rocker queen, and specializes in dancing. She tends to be criticized for a lack of glamour on some of her main stage looks, and is one of the most dramatic, sarcastic and shady queens of the bunch. Can and will stomp on you in latex boots for money. Besties with Wyssle and Chrisel, gets into a little heated talks with (occasionally) Peacock, (frequently) Ricky and Remy. She adores Cheets’ (Pyro) makeup skills. Winner of season 1 babey!!

Chris Walker as Piggy Chrisel. A punk/grunge queen who seems to specialize moreso in dancing and lip syncing. She's a shy, gentle giant, has a little trouble speaking coherently and it affects her in the acting/impromptu comedy challenges. She will call out whores though, she will kick ass when the situation calls for it. Really good at makeup, makeup girl-friends with Cheeto and besties with Kill O Meter (Latrila vibes). Also a perfectionist and hates mess on her work table.

Rick Trager as Ricky Trix. Whore, that's all. This bitch OBNOXIOUS and shady but she's both a glamour AND comedy queen, the other queens are watching out for her since day one. Horror and '80s inspired queen, extremely good at comedy and acting and will literally stomp the competition with nearly perfect impressions and extremely expressive acting. The downfall for her seems to be glam on the occasion and singing. Rivals with Kill O Meter and Miss Tini, kikis with Remy (they throw shade to other queens the moment they get em)

Father Martin as Miss Tini. The oldest queen but she can still serve the cakes. Generally a kind person, coming from a religious background. She’s takes the drag culture religiously. She gets along with The Twinks.

The Twins as The Twinks. Was recruited as two totally separate queens, but both quit on the first episode when one of the twins were to be eliminated. The queens tell the Twinks apart by who’s bald and who’s not. They don’t vibe with other queens except Miss Tini.

Pyromaniac as Cheeto de LaFlammeo. Queen of Makeup, she has some serious skill range on it. Good in the acting department, always plays as the tragic character. Was rivals with Kill-O Meter before, but one time when she had a breakdown, Kill-O Meter was by her side when no one was. After that, they respected each other.

Billy Hope as Billy Willy. CLOWN QUEEN, huge Crystal Methyd vibes. She’s the youngest queen, very energetic, a ball of SUNSHINE but Wernicke was a bias bitch and sent her home immediately the moment she was in the bottom. She was basically Kill-O Meter and Wyssle Blower's drag child. Hailed as Miss Congeniality, is voted by majority to return for a season 2 for going home a little too early than people feel was deserved. Best at makeup and outfits, her mom Tiffany taught her to sew and make dresses out of rags and other unconventional materials and the skill proved to be helpful. Also she likes puns and everyone likes playing with her name like: Silly Billy Willy, Witty Billy Willy, etc.

....

Waylon Park as Wyssle Blower. The Mom of the queens, the most well rounded queen, and the most 'fishy' one. Probably the smartest and most humble one out of everyone, she can read through people’s bullshit well. Genuinely looks like a girl in full drag, but always does her best on acting. She's serving you a cute, nerdy and quirky style, but can serve horror when need be. Always wins the mini challenges, she's not as loud as the other girls but she does beat Blaire in a lip sync (lowkey badass lipsyncer). Winner of All Stars babey

Jeremy Blaire as Remy Coco Ainée. Pretentious fake ass queen, even her drag name is just Cocaine in fake French. A pure fashion glamour queen, she serves it at almost all the fashion challenges but there's no more personality out of her other than that and her shady attitude (she will not hold back on the shade). Is extremely horrible at singing (her voice cracks) and acting, goes home against a lip sync with Wyssle. This bitch will FLEX her wins. Kikis with Ricky, mainly rivals with Kill O Meter, Wyssle and Peacock but she made everyone her rivals bc of her bitchass attitude.

Eddie Gluskin as Edna Taylor. Fashion queen, specializes in sewing, acting and singing, but is extremely lacking in the dancing department. Has a one-sided endearment for Waylon, and consistently tries to have her attention. Is extremely manipulative too, trying to consistently trip the other queens up. Also everybody hates her mohawk signature wig but nobody says anything about it because they don’t want to be victim to Edna’s mind games.

Frank Manera as Hanni Canni Bahl. Horror queen, best at comedy and dancing. Though it is prohibited, she’s able to sneak in weed, coke (for Ricky) and snacks in the werk room. Very messy when working, her discarded fabrics are EVERYWHERE and Chrisel is fighting the urge to clean it up. She eats while working when the camera’s off, and it stains the dress she’s working on (Pauline notices it).

Dennis as Denise. Mocked as “Edna’s little helper” as she always helps with her dresses. She’s trying too hard to impress Edna, and helps her get Wyssle’s attention. Very talented in acting and sewing, but bland in fashion, lacking in concept. Her inner conflict is what got her eliminated.

Simon Peacock as Julie Peacock. Rebellious, mischievous, and an ex-glam queen gone horror and campy instead. After being insulted much by glam queens (ahemRemyahem), she just embraced it and became a horror queen, serving the judges her horror aesthetic. Best at comedy, lacks extremely on acting and dancing though. No one is safe from her constructive criticism, and she will never stop ranting to Kill O Meter and Wyssle about Remy and Ricky being bad bitches and favored by Wernicke, she thinks it's unfair.

....

Blake Langermann as Angel Fromm. Singing queen!! Good at singing, but otherwise is moreso well-rounded, she might've been eliminated earlier, hadn't it been for her also low-key successful and iconic lip syncs. But the lucky winning streak didn't last forever, she goes home later in the season because she's slowly falling behind the other queens and can't keep up anymore. Has Rococo aesthetic, unfortunately the outfits can't make up for the lack of character as a queen. Though she needs a lot of improvement, the guest star Lynn adores her very much.

Val as Valentina. Queen of SEX or moreso impersonations and comedy. She’s a terrible tailor, but likes unconventional and simple fashion designs. She’s trans and lowkey Pauline has a crush on her the moment she walked on that stage. Pure rivals with Sallyzekiel, you know that iconic Aja vs. Valentina in Untucked? They had that moment. Probably goes home earlier, not entirely prepared, but still was a season icon. Definitely dropped it low about 10 times on her lip sync.

Marta as ImMartal. GOTH QUEEN, survived about early mid season. Best at her makeup and looks, glam queen, but the judges criticize her for wearing the same wigs/having the same hairstyle for almost every looks.

Nick Tremblay as Nicky Lanterns. Another gentle giant. Very introverted, she has a difficult time socializing with other girls because she’s generally not a very loud person. Really bad at makeup, her fashion sense is somewhat okay but it’s always on the ‘safe’ level. Pretty good at slapstick comedy, writing and concepts tho. It’s a wonder how Nicky and Lard Imp became “friends,” they’re complete opposites.

Laird Byron as Lard Imp. Whore, Exhibit B. Extremely rude, louder than Remy and Ricky themselves, and has a weird love/hate obsession with Angel for some reason. Everyone hates her, even Rudolf himself, and Lard Imp isn’t her original drag name but ultimately they came to a point where they just called her Lard Imp. Constantly denies the judges’ and the queens’ critiques, very delusional about winning the season and that’s why she’s the first one eliminated.

Sullivan Knoth as Sallyzekiel. The Big Bad Bitch of the season. Ultimate rivals with Valentina, constantly bullies Angel. Marta used to be friends with her, but after talking shit on Valentina, she says fuck you and defended Val. Glam queen, has an affinity for shoes but damn girl terrible makeup and padding. Really good with speech, acting and impromptu.

So far, here are the character designs we have made!

(1) Blake and Trager by @/pan0pt1con

(1, 2, 3, 4, 5) Waylon, Chris, Simon, Eddie, Miles and Jeremy by @/gothivican

(1) Billy, Miles, Chris, Wernicke, Pauline, Paul and Alice by @/weirdagnes

[throughthewwods]

100 Days of Productivity 🏖 . Day 19-21

💙 I let my mind relax

💚 I let my body relax

💜 We did mom-daughter bonding stuff

🐾 lots of GSD training

Working more on him walking alongside me instead of in front of me, which he is stubborn AF about.. so much so that he has learned the sound of my feet when I’m about to correct him, but doesn’t care enough to stop 😆

did loose leash training and off leash training.. loose leash I have to remind him to start pulling a lot. Irritating. He does great off leash, which is delightfully surprising.

The socialization is working. He is rarely skittish of people and other dogs now. He’s also gotten better about not disjointing my shoulder when he wants to greet another dog or child.

His self restraint has improved greatly, which is to say that before it was almost nonexistent. Now when I ask him to sit, stay etc. he listens much better for longer.

He’s much less barky

💚 Did a lot of walking

💙 skin care is finally paying off.

A lot of the cystic acne has cleared up and I’m feeling comfortable going places without make up again, which is really nice for my self esteem..

🧡 had a couple more sessions with people on the helpline,

which finally went a little deeper. Unfortunately, both of those people only have a couple sessions left before their part in the study is over. I explain to my research Director that in future studies if we’re only going to offer hour long sessions, which is reasonable, then we should probably offer more weeks because it’s harder to go deep over text when an hour flies by so quickly. Since this has to be entirely non-directive, it’ll usually be chitchat for the first 45 minutes before something of content is shared for me to build off of, but by then I don’t want to open a sensitive topic then leave them hanging. I think our original plan to have ‘on demand’ support, divided up as volunteer shifts behind the scenes, probably would’ve gone better.

⭐️ returned a laptop we had out on loan

📚 got feedback from my stats professor and watched a couple lectures about my final project

🧡 got a reply from my department chair about my letter of recommendation

He said he would work on it next week, which I really appreciate. There are so many things as a first generation student that would’ve been helpful to know that.. you often don’t know you don’t know until the mistake has already happened... Even my efforts to ask people ‘who’ve been there’ questions hasn’t really been enough to circumvent the lack of knowledge that gets passed down from generation to generation. For example… many have emphasized the importance of building relationships with relevant people and that I will need strong letters of recommendation. However, nobody mentioned that when asking for a letter of recommendation, it’s usually with a month or more’s notice. also there are some quirks about the application process that nobody elaborated on.. I’m sure they would have explained, but I guess I didn’t ask the right questions or they assumed someone else would tell me.

So.. My ignorance has me feeling like a bit of an ass and grateful for everyone’s flexibility.

😬😅

The kindness of my department chair got me to thinking about the last appointment with my counselor, which left me adrift with a realization about myself, but no idea what to do with ‘that’. I have no idea what could help with the feelings of despair when I am floundering, barely hanging on wishing I had a support system then having to digest all over again that no matter how hard I work to better my circumstances blows keep coming and no matter how hard life gets, no help is ever coming (mainly grieving that I come from a family that is extremely dysfunctional, so although I feel dauntingly alone at times fending for myself as per usual, ‘this’ is still the better option or that my own familiarity with dysfunction and poor boundaries selected a toxic village; which I’ve since estranged myself from for years now.. These choices are surely healthier, but the isolation is particularly heavy when I’m barely hanging on) … then I shut down, rest until I have it in me to yet again fight the good fight and rise up from the ashes (not a secure foundational to build on.. lots of putting out fires and damage control then rebuilding)

Moving on to less depressing thoughts… 😺🌈🦄🍰

Most of the time I enjoy my alone time, so I rarely get lonely in the conventional sense.

Maybe I could try joining special interest groups on Facebook again for the camaraderie? 

RB helps. He is thoughtful in many ways, but mostly it helps to have a best friend again or to feel like there’s finally someone ‘with me’ in this, which has never been the case.

Maybe I could ask fairy godmother for help more often before I’m buried?

However, I don’t like having so many eggs in one basket. I need to branch out. At the same time, Covid prevents me from ‘mingling’

So… my ‘behavioral’ and ‘social’ solutions are what they are..

That leaves the Cognitive

That is the wall I’m not sure how to get around.. For a lot of people the solution is leaning on God/s, which is probably not going to work for me at this phase of my life where I don’t believe in a humanized deity that is concerned with human drama or wellbeing. I can’t change who my family is, but I do make a point to not talk to them, particularly my mother, very much when I am going through a hard time because it pokes the wound and exacerbates the depression. I guess I could work more on processing my grief, but that doesn’t help me with the finite stressors that are actually triggering the hyper arousal stress response. I do have people in my life I can call to chat with, which sometimes I do and sometimes I don’t depending on the severity of my circumstances because their well-intended platitudes feels a lot like someone clapping for you from the dock as you’re drowning, “We believe in you!” Thank you I guess? 🤷🏻‍♀️ 😅 After nobody bothered to call me when I finally was accepted into grad school I have decided several one-sided connections aren’t worth my emotional energy anymore where when we do talk they go on and on about themselves, but clearly couldn’t give a damn about me. It’s ok, but I don’t need that drain.

So these are things I can do for myself that reduce negatives pecking at my attitude.

I just don’t know about adding positive buffers because… refocusing on the people I can count on tends to just sort of remind me how very few there are.. heh. And self-pep-talks, “something something what doesn’t kill us makes us stronger” is already burned up fuel at that point of despair.

Then today I realize that i’ve been terribly sad at times that I don’t have supportive friends and family,

but I’ve overlooked how understanding, supportive, and flexible many professors have been.. people within the administration who have been willing to work with me even when I make mistakes and help me find solutions..  supervisors willing to take a chance on me. my caseworker who has known me for over a decade who has always vouched for my character and is going to support my petition for the masters degree scholarship..

💙

when I think about all that cumulatively, I feel..lighter. No, I can’t invite any of these people over for dinner. They’re not the shoulder I cry on,

but their support has been invaluable. I could not have gotten this far without their help and encouragement.

I have not been so alone on this journey.

[kousin-itt]

I Got Your Back - Part 5

The final chapter of this short fanfic! Glad you guys seemed to like it! Enjoy!

Also, bonus points to anyone who could catch the numerous obscure references to shows, Youtubers, etc. that I also enjoy. :)

Part 5

He smoothed out his trousers and adjusted his bowtie. Was that a stain on his pristine white collared shirt? Wait, no, that was a smudge on his glasses. He clutched his book closer to his chest and ventured onto the recreation area. There were children playing on the playground. There were children kicking a ball around. There were children standing in groups and catting happily. He approached group after group of young people his age, but they turned their backs on him.

“Nerd!”

“Who brings a book to the playground?”

“Loser!”

“Why would we want to play with you?”

“Four-eyes!”

“Why can’t you just be normal?”

“You’re so weird. Why are you bothering us?”

“Nobody likes you.”

“You’re not tough enough to be like Professor Time. He was awesome, a hero. You’re nobody.”

Balthazar eventually gave up. He was beginning to miss playing with his toddler sister, even though he used to complain about not having a friend his age or gender.

“I don’t need a friend.” Balthazar finally decided. He went to the empty baseball field, not noticing the playground and children disappearing around him. He picked up a stick and drew a circle in the dirt. “This is my circle. Nobody can be in here except me.” He stepped into the circle and sat in the middle of it. He looked around.

Completely alone.

“I like it like this.” Balthazar told himself. “I like being alone. I don’t need friends.” He opened his book and began to read. He readjusted his glasses, but his eyes were still blurry. Then, he realized tears caused the wetness on his face.

Nobody comforted him.

“It’s not my fault!” Balthazar sobbed, his face red with embarrassment from being so emotional. He rubbed his fists against his eyes, desperately and silently pleading for them to stop producing tears. “I want a friend. I can’t…..I just can’t……”

A shadow appeared in his circle.

Go away, shadow. Balthazar thought for sure this was a trick of his water-filled eyes. But when his eyes finally cleared, he realized the shadow had a more definite shape. The shadow was attached to someone: a child his age, wearing shorts and a T-shirt, and a pair of glasses with orange-tinted lenses. He had a mess of wild curls for hair.

“Hi there!” the boy greeted with a wide smile. His enthusiasm seemed to startle Balthazar. “I’m Vinnie! Can I come in there, too?”

“No, stay back!” Balthazar pleaded, jumping to his feet.

Vinnie’s smile turned to a look of confusion. He even tilted his head to one side like a perplexed puppy. “Why?”

“This is my circle!” Balthazar insisted. “Nobody can cross that line!”

“Why not? I don’t understand.” Vinnie took a few steps forward, crossing the border to stand in the circle.

Balthazar stared in shock. “No. How can you cross that line? You can’t be in here. This is my circle.”

Vinnie looked to the circle in the sand. “Why can’t I be in here?”

“I don’t know how to make friends. No one wants to be my friend, anyway.” Balthazar hoped he wouldn’t start crying again. “I’m better off alone.”

“I’ll be your friend.” Vinnie offered.

“You don’t want that.” Balthazar sighed. “You can’t be in my circle. I’ll just stay here by myself.”

Vinnie went to the edge of the circle and kicked the sand, breaking the line. “See? We can erase the line!”

“No!” Balthazar pleaded as Vinnie kept kicking the sand. “Don’t erase my circle!”

Too late. The circle was gone.

Vinnie dusted off his shorts. “Now can we be friends?”

Balthazar slowly shifted his gaze from where his circle used to be, locking his turquoise eyes onto Vinnie’s cocoa brown ones. Then again, he couldn’t really tell Vinnie’s eye color with those tinted lenses. “Why would you want to be friends with me?”

“Because I like you. I think you’re cool.” Vinnie held out his hand. “What do you say?”

Balthazar smiled a little at last. He reached out to take Vinnie’s hand.

The light blinded Cavendish, and he flinched. He let his eyes adjust a bit before he opened them fully. Of course, without his glasses, the world was a blur.

“About time you woke up.”

Someone moved into his line of sight and put his glasses on his face. He blinked owlishly. Cavendish took in his surroundings to fix the disorientation: he lay in a hospital bed, Morgan stood beside him, and he was hooked up to a heart monitor and an IV. He felt mentally alert but physically exhausted. The room was too bright. He felt sick to his stomach and hungry at the same time. Morgan’s hair was messier today. Or maybe her cowlick was just acting up and refusing to let her hair lay neatly. Cavendish wondered why he would bother noticing that. He sat up and hissed in pain. He looked down and under the collar of his hospital gown. Bandages coiled around his torso from hips to armpits. Bruises graced his knuckles, and he touched the skin around his eye where shards of his previous pair of spectacles cut into his face. He accepted the water Morgan handed him.

“When did I get here?” Cavendish asked. His voice was hoarse. He drank more water.

“You’ve been out cold for a day and a half.” Morgan explained. “Surgery took a few hours. I delivered the Triton’s Amulet to the Preservation Department to take to the Jewelry Museum. Cobalt is dead, but Block doesn’t blame you or Vinnie for it since it was in self-defense.”

“Vinnie?” Cavendish suddenly felt a flood of memories rush back to him. “Where is he?”

“Over there.” Morgan jerked a thumb behind her. “He hasn’t left that spot since you got out of surgery.”

Cavendish saw Dakota in cushioned chair near his bed. Dakota had the seat reclined, and he slept soundly. He long since replaced his blood-soaked clothing with jeans, sneakers, and an old band T-shirt. His glasses sat crookedly on his face. Cavendish took note of the bandage on Dakota’s head, the busted lip that scabbed over, the bruises on his knuckles, and the largest bruise that went across his neck.

“Is he all right?” Cavendish asked.

“He’ll be fine. You’re the one who almost died.” Morgan assured. “You wouldn’t be here right now if Vinnie hadn’t remembered my training. I’m sure you’ll find a way to thank him while you two are on medical leave. Rest. I’ll have Vinnie get you something to eat.”

“I don’t want to wake him.” Cavendish said. “He’s probably exhausted.”

“Nah. He’s practically narcoleptic.” Morgan stole the pillow from under Dakota’s head and hit him the face with it. “He’s awake. You can get up now.”

Dakota yawned and set his glasses more comfortably on his face. He noticed Cavendish and immediately jumped to his feet. “Hey, Cav! How are you feeling?”

Cavendish watched Morgan leave the room. “I’m sore, but I’ll be fine. You?”

“Bumps and bruises compared to you!” Dakota’s laugh was forced. “You really had me going, Cavendish.”

Cavendish gingerly touched his ribs, where the bullet entered him. “Thank you, Dakota, for saving my life.”

“It was nothing.” Dakota shrugged.

“It wasn’t nothing. It was something.” Cavendish insisted. “I would not be here if—”

“But you are here! It’s no big deal.” Dakota assured. “Besides, you saved my life first. I was getting strangled to death and you came running in and you just—BAM! Smashed right into Cobalt and knocked him off me and saved my life. So, naturally, I had to save your life, too! So it’s no biggie.”

Now, Cavendish understood why Morgan made a point to mention that Cavendish needed to thank Dakota for the rescue. She didn’t say that to make Cavendish feel guilty. She wanted him to make sure Dakota didn’t sweep this traumatic incident under the rug. Dakota had a smile on his face but pain in his eyes. He had been scared, surely, that things would not work out like they did. Cavendish promised himself he would follow Morgan’s command and find ways during their time off to make it up to Dakota.

Just one thing bothered him.

“Dakota…..what you did…..”

“I did what any partner would have done.”

“But you did more than that. You made me talk about my hometown. I could imagine the trees, and you helped me remember the fond times I shared with my baby sister. You did more than administer first aid. You kept me calm and helped me gain a sense of peace when I thought for sure I would die. That sort of thing is not expected from a partner, a work colleague. It’s something that…..something that….”

“What?”

“It’s something a friend would do.”

Silence overcame the pair. Dakota’s grin became genuine. “Whether you like it or not, Balthazar T. Cavendish, I consider you my friend. I knew you were scared, so I tried to make you smile. I did everything in my power to save your life, and to keep your hopes up; because if you didn’t make it for whatever reason, I didn’t want you to die scared.”

Cavendish rubbed the hem of the blanket draped over his legs. “Why would you want to be friends with me?”

“Because you’re cool. Because you’re an awesome time traveler agent. Because it’s fun to mess with you. Take your pick.” Dakota smirked playfully. “Hey, your sister’s single, right?”

Cavendish frowned. “Yes, and she’s bisexual, but she is still out of your league and would never date you.”

“We won’t know until you take me to see your hometown, like you promised!”

“I recall much of the mission, and I did not say I would take you home for a visit.”

“Come on! You take me to see your family, and I’ll bring you to my grandma’s house for a proper Italian dinner.”

“I will consider it.”

“I’m not hearing a ‘no.’”

“I’m not saying a ‘yes.’”

Dakota laughed, and Cavendish smiled. The tension cleared between them at last, and Cavendish felt they could move forward from this experience.

“But, seriously, don’t think you owe me anything.” Dakota said. “You saved my life, I saved yours. We’re even. Equals. Partners.”

“I think I like ‘friends’ better.” Cavendish realized he said that out loud without meaning to. But Dakota smiled wider, so Cavendish didn’t bother mentally berating himself. Cavendish held out a hand. “Thank you, Dakota. Truly.”

Dakota took Cavendish’s hand in a firm grip. “I got your back, Balthazar, as long as you got mine.”

“Always.” Cavendish promised.

“Good. Hey, you hungry? The food isn’t horrible here, but it’s still hospital food.”

“Tea and a scone, if they have any.”

“Oh, like a proper British gentleman?”

Cavendish rolled his eyes. “Is this what our friendship will be? You poking at every little thing I do?”

“Yeah, and you poke fun at everything I do, and that’s what makes us a great team.” Dakota shrugged. “Okay, tea and a scone, I’m on it!” He marched from the room, a man on a mission.

Cavendish sighed and shook his head. He still smiled. I suppose having Vinnie Dakota as a friend isn’t the worst thing in the world. He rubbed his ribs and laid back in his bed. What more could I ask for in a friend?

[inyournightmares97]

Ultimatum (Part 4)

Park Jinyoung is a master negotiator. He’s used to preying on people’s weaknesses and manipulating them to get his way. So he can’t understand you; a lawyer who sees the world in black and white, as either good or bad. Conflict is inevitable.

But if the two of you can just set aside your differences, perhaps you can perform miracles together.

Word Count: 4.1k+

Warnings: Angst, office!au, enemies to lovers!au. Some language.

Part 1: In Which You Win

Part 2: In Which He Wins

Part 3: In Which the Common Enemy Appears

Part 4: In Which You Work Together

Part 5: In Which Nobody Wins 

Part 6: In Which Everybody Wins

Park 7: In Which Love Wins

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

Park Jinyoung brought his stuff to your table and sat down across from you. 

“What are you doing?” you asked him, raising an eyebrow. 

“Plugging in my laptop,” he replied. He bent over to reach the power outlets on the floor and you had to turn your eyes away from his shapely posterior. Did he need to wear such snug pants? Jinyoung straightened up and smiled at you. “I was using it during the presentation so the battery is drained. The company should get us better laptops.”

You cleared your throat. “That’s not what I meant.”

“Huh?”

“Why are you here? This is where Legal sits.”

His pretty lips formed a pout. “What do you mean? This is an open-seating work-space.  Don’t you remember what the CEO told us when he removed the private offices and cubicles? Open seating offices encourage creativity and collaboration. We can sit anywhere.”

“Exactly. You can sit anywhere. Do you really need to sit here?”

“Is my handsome face distracting you?” Jinyoung asked smugly. “I can understand. Women have a hard time concentrating around me. Should I sit with my back facing you? Perhaps you’d enjoy that more? I have been told my rear view is rather flattering.”

“Please shut up.”

Jinyoung chuckled and leaned back in his chair. “Relax. I had a chat with the CEO's secretary. She’s squeezing us in for a meeting with the CEO at 6 pm tomorrow. That gives us…” he turned his wrist to look at his watch. “About 24 hours to prepare a negotiation that will save half the jobs in this company. I doubt we can afford to waste the time it takes whenever I have to walk over here and discuss something with you. So let’s work together and save time.”

“Fine,” you muttered. 

 “Good. So, how’s it going so far?” he asked. 

You sighed. “Honestly? Not great. The CEO can’t force us to go to Busan but if he gives us a chance between either going or resigning then there’s not much we can do to stop it. It’s constructive dismissal in a way, but it’s not a watertight case. It would take an amazing lawyer to win this in court. We can’t afford it. I might have to bluff my way through this meeting.”

Jinyoung rubbed his chin thoughtfully. “Hmm That’s okay. We don’t actually need strong grounds to sue. We just need him to believe we have strong grounds to sue.”

“Do you think he can be fooled?”

“Trust me, the CEO doesn’t know anything about the law. We’ll be fine.”

“What if he asks someone?”

Jinyoung shook his head. “No way. The CEO isn’t supposed to consult personal lawyers with respect to official decisions. Even if he was to consult a specialist labour lawyer he would have to go through your department to do it. It’s company policy that the legal team handles all legal matters, including soliciting opinions from external lawyers for company issues.”

You stared at him in disbelief. “Park Jinyoung, did you just quote company policy at me?”

“Hey. I have read the stupid thing,” he muttered. 

"If you say so."

Jinyoung finished booting up his laptop and you watched with mild interest as he extracted a pair of thick framed reading glasses from his bag. The glasses covered his dark, mischievous eyes and Jinyoung’s face suddenly looked softer and kinder. 

He chewed on his lower lip while he grabbed a notepad and began scribbling down some numbers. For a few minutes, Jinyoung did nothing but look at his laptop and do calculations. Whenever he was stuck he set the pen down and fiddled absent-mindedly with his cuff sleeves until something struck him. Then he picked up the pen and resumed writing with renewed vigour. 

Park Jinyoung concentrating was weirdly mesmerizing. You felt a shiver down your spine. 

He looked up and caught you staring at him. 

“What are you looking at?” he wondered. 

You coughed. 

“I just-um… what are you working on? What’s your negotiation strategy?” you asked. 

Jinyoung turned his notepad to show you his calculations, although it was of little use. You hadn’t studied business. He pushed his glasses up his nose. 

“I think the reason the CEO is pushing this because it would be cheaper for the company to have us working from Busan,” Jinyoung explained. He gestured to a bunch of numbers on the sheet. “I asked Bambam from Accounting to give me the company’s cost accounts. I want to know exactly how much money the Busan transfer saves. Things like renting office space, operations, etc. What if we all agree to give up our bonuses for the year? I want to know if that could save the company the same amount.”

You blinked. You hadn’t even thought about why the CEO was forcing you all to go to Busan. It was an interesting line of thought, but one that you weren’t sure would help. 

Jinyoung smiled. “Don’t worry. This is a solid strategy. It’s how I negotiate deals. We can’t just focus on what we want. That’s a narrow-minded approach. The important thing is to get past the opponent’s positions and fulfill their interests.”

“What does that mean?”

Jinyoung shook his head in disappointment. “Positions and interests? How are you unaware of the basics of negotiation?”

You folded your arms across your chest indignantly. That wasn’t fair. How were you supposed to know something that you had never studied and was outside your field of expertise? 

“Name one sitting Supreme Court judge, Jinyoung. One. I dare you.”

Jinyoung sighed. “Okay, fair enough. Listen carefully. A position is a stand someone takes. For example; our CEOs current position is to force everyone to go to Busan or quit. But if you look behind the surface of a position there’s an underlying interest. I believe his interest is to cut costs for the company. If we can fulfill his interest directly, then there’s no need to fight him on the position. I’m trying to solve his problem instead of accepting his demands. Does that make sense to you?”

“Yeah,” you admitted reluctantly. It was actually a rather intelligent way to go about solving the problem. 

“Lawyers usually argue on positions, so I can understand why this might be unfamiliar to you. But there’s no need for us to negotiate the transfer to Busan. What we need to do is find a way to save the CEO the money he wants. Then he won’t even need to transfer us.”

“You’re trying to create a win-win situation.”

Jinyoung smirked. “I always look for a win-win situation. Everyone leaves the room happy and there are no hard feelings. Ultimatums are the worst. They make the other person hostile and bring in unpleasant emotions. Never issue an ultimatum unless you’re ready to face the consequences.”

You rolled your eyes. “Yes, you’ve told me this before.”

“It's a good rule!”

“But you still want me to issue the CEO an ultimatum? I'm threatening to sue the company. There's hardly any bigger ultimatum than that,” you pointed out. 

Jinyoung waved a hand in the air carelessly. “Doesn’t matter. Remember the Good Cop, Bad Cop strategy? Your ultimatum isn't our real proposal. It only exists to make my proposal look better in comparison.”

“I can’t believe I’m trusting you with this,” you mumbled. 

“Relax. I will take full responsibility if something goes wrong.”

“Full responsibility? What are you going to do? Find us all new jobs?” you demanded incredulously. 

Jinyoung blinked. “What? No. I can’t do that.”

“Then how do you intend to take responsibility?”

“I was thinking more along the lines of… I’ll let you tell everyone at work that it was my fault?” Jinyoung suggested hopefully. He noticed the murderous expression on your face and chuckled. “Never mind. I won’t joke around now. We have a lot of work to do. Do you want some coffee? I’ll go get us some coffee. Do you take sugar?”

You sighed. “No sugar.”

“Yeah, I had a feeling. Have you heard of enjoying the pleasures in life?”

“Oh fuck off, Jinyoung.”

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

The two of you worked late into the evening. The sky began to darken and the office slowly emptied out as co-workers gradually left for the day. There was silence, other than the occasional sound of you flipping pages and Jinyoung typing into his calculator. 

That was when you came to a realization. 

Park Jinyoung’s presence was kind of comforting.

Maybe it was because you’d never really worked with Jinyoung before. The two of you interacted on a regular basis only to get in each other’s way. You had spent so much time and energy hating Jinyoung’s manipulative tactics that you never considered what it would be like if he used them for you instead of against you. Now that you were working on the same side things felt different. 

Park Jinyoung was the sort of man to get what he wanted using any means whatsoever. He stopped at nothing. It could be annoying and manipulative but for the people counting on him, he could also seem…

Dependable? 

“How much longer are you guys going to be here?” Yugyeom asked as he came up to your desk. It was getting late and he’d been sitting a few seats away and staring pointedly at his watch for a while now. He yawned loudly and then stretched his long limbs. “It’s time to get off work…”

You blinked at him. “You go ahead. I need to look into a few more things.”

“Yeah. I’m still working too,” Jinyoung replied. 

Yugyeom made a face at Jinyoung. “Nobody asked you,” he mumbled. Then he turned to you with a softer tone. “Are you sure it’s okay if I leave? Maybe you’ll need my help with something? I don’t mind staying late but you’re both working in complete silence and I don’t know how to help...”

“Go home, Yugyeom.”

“Okay. Call me if you need anything.”

“Sure.”

You heard Yugyeom pack up his belongings and reluctantly leave the office. It was empty now. The sky outside was dark and there was nobody left except for you and Jinyoung. You paused and observed the handsome man sitting across from you. His eyebrows were furrowed as he chewed the end of his pen and stared at his laptop screen. 

“Jinyoung?”

He continued chewing the pen. “Hmm?”

“Are you hungry?”

His dark eyes rose to meet yours. 

“Yes.”

——————————————————————————

Jinyoung wasted nearly fifteen minutes of your time arguing over what to order for dinner until you finally gave up and placed separate orders from different restaurants. The two of you went into the deserted break room to eat once your food arrived. 

“Can we practice what we’re going to say to the CEO tomorrow?” you asked hesitantly. 

Jinyoung nodded as he stuffed his mouth full of noodles. His cheeks bulged out like a squirrel’s before he swallowed. “Sure. Why, though?”

“I just want to make sure I don’t mess up.”

He grinned. “Oh wow. Is our big scary lawyer lady nervous? Is this the same woman who barged into the CEO’s office this morning and issued him the ultimatum that screwed us all over?” he teased. 

You glared at him. Was this the time for joking? You were in no mood to play cat and mouse with Jinyoung. The meeting was getting closer and your overall situation wasn’t much better than it had been this morning. 

“Jinyoung, please.”

His smile dropped when he saw the worry on your face. “Okay, fine. I won’t irritate you.”

“Thank you. Just for tonight.”

“Can I ask you something, though?” Jinyoung asked. He tilted his head as he observed you with his dark eyes. “You’re not acting like yourself today. Under normal circumstances, you wouldn’t have barged into the CEOs office so hastily and you wouldn’t have agreed to work with me or accept my way of doing things. I know you.”

You flushed. “Well, I mean, potentially losing your job is scary to anyone-”

Jinyoung shook his head. He wasn’t buying it. “No. It can’t just be that. You graduated from an amazing law school. You have a great resume and great work experience. You’ve worked at other places before. You could get another job in less than a month if you tried. What do you enjoy so much about working here?” 

“It’s not that I enjoy it, I just-”

“Just?”

You frowned at him. “I don’t know. What do you enjoy so much about working here?”

“This is where I first became successful,” Jinyoung replied without hesitation. He poked at his noodles and his expression softened. “Nothing was really working out for me before I came here. But the CEO hired me personally and he gave me opportunities to prove myself. He’s going to let me make pitches to our investors soon. I think if I hang around in this company for a while, I could get promoted to top management. In five or six years, I could head Sales or even get a better position in Finance. I would lose out on all that if I quit now.”

You stared at him. “Wow.”

“What?”

“Nothing, I just didn’t think you’d be so honest.”

Jinyoung chuckled. “Hey. I only lie when it benefits me. I don’t walk around telling lies randomly. They’re a pain to keep track of, you know.”

“Fascinating.”

“So? Your turn. You’re clearly desperate to keep your job and you’re even more desperate not to go to Busan. Why?”

You were silent for a moment. You didn’t want to think about this too much, you had barely had time to process it since you were hit with the news this morning. You just knew that the thought scared you. 

“I just don’t want to leave my family behind,” you explained vaguely. 

“What does that-”

Your phone rang. You glanced at the caller ID and your eyes widened in surprise. “Sorry, I need to take this,” you apologized. It was your mother’s care home. You moved to a corner of the break room and answered the phone. “Hello?.... Yeah, I know, I came by this morning but the doctor wasn’t available to talk to me… now? I’m still at work right now… yeah, I get that but I work full time, I can’t just come down instantly whenever you call…”

Jinyoung walked up to you and tapped your shoulder. “Do you need to go somewhere?”

You shook your head awkwardly while clutching your phone. “N-no…”

“I’ll drive you. Come on.”

——————————————————————————————————-

Jinyoung’s car smelled really nice. 

You weren’t sure why you found that specific detail attractive, but you did. To be honest, you had never imagined a situation where you would be sitting in the front passenger seat of Jinyoung’s SUV and side-eyeing him while he drove you around late at night. You expected him to be nosy and ask where you were going and why, but he didn’t. 

Instead, Jinyoung tuned into a nighttime radio station and the both of you sat in silence while the radio jockey droned on about memories of first love and nostalgia. 

“Do you like listening to this stuff?” you asked him. 

Jinyoung glanced at you out of the corner of his eye. “Sure. I can be a sentimental guy.”

You rolled your eyes. “Wow.”

“Why is that so surprising? You’re the one who lacks human emotion and wants to follow her stupid rulebook all the time. Well you know what? Human beings are emotional creatures. We don’t react to logic, we react to feelings.You should try them sometime.” he told you. 

You stared at him incredulously.  

“I can’t believe I’m getting a lesson on feelings from the guy who blackmailed my subordinate into signing a document that should never have been signed, putting both of your jobs at risk,” you retorted. Did this man even think before he spoke? “You’re such a hypocrite, Jinyoung. I never know what to believe when it comes to you.”

Jinyoung smirked. “Do you want to know the truth?”

“If you insist.”

“The agreement I submitted to the client was one without Yugyeom’s signature on it. He’s in the clear.”

You stared at him. “What?”

“Having Legal sign off on the agreement is only an internal requirement according to our company policy. The client’s lawyer didn’t notice the problem. I just made Yugyeom believe that he’d signed it. Otherwise, you would have gone and told the CEO before the press conference. I needed you guys to keep quiet.”

“You submitted a contract that Yugyeom didn’t sign?”

“Yup,” Jinyoung replied. He glanced at you, lips curling into a smug smile. “So you can tell the kid to relax. Even if everything is revealed later, he won’t be in trouble. I’ll be the one who has to justify why I executed a contract without the approval of the Legal team.”

You stared at him in disbelief. “I can’t believe you.”

“I know. I’m the master of deception, aren’t I?” Jinyoung asked proudly. “I took a big risk by telling you this. Are you going to rat me out to the CEO now?”

You sighed and shook your head. “You’re in luck. I’m not feeling particularly loyal to our CEO today.”

Jinyoung’s smile fell and he nodded solemnly. “He’s being a real dick about this one. But don’t worry. He’s not completely unreasonable. We’ll find some way out of this mess, I promise. It’s not impossible.”

“We just haven’t figured out his bottom line yet.”

Jinyoung turned to you with a surprised smile. “What? How do you know what a bottom line is?” 

“I-I just heard Hana talking about it, she keeps coming over to Yugyeom’s desk every day and gushing about how much she learns from you,” you explained reluctantly. 

“I knew that kid had potential.”

You rolled your eyes. “Anyway. The CEO is making all these demands and issuing us these ultimatums but there has to be something that he’s not prepared to lose either, right? Something we can do that could make him think- okay, maybe I’m losing more by insisting on the Busan transfers than I’m gaining? He knows we’re scared of losing our jobs. But we don’t know what he’s afraid to lose. Maybe he’s counting on at least some of us getting scared and moving to Busan. Maybe it will become a hassle for him if every single one of us quits. What do you think?”

Jinyoung was silent. 

“I-I don’t know.”

“You can’t think of anything?”

Jinyoung shrugged as he pulled into the parking lot of your mother’s care home. The GPS announced that you had arrived at your destination and you sighed, taking off your seat-belt. “Sorry. I’ll be back in a couple of minutes. I just need to have a quick chat with the doctor.”

Jinyoung nodded. “Take your time.”

“Thanks.”

————————————————————————————————

You hurried into the care home. A number of elderly people were sitting in the lounge area, some watching television and others sitting around a table of cards. You spotted your mother in an armchair reading a book through her reading glasses and smiled. 

“Hi!” one of the nurses greeted you. “Are you here to see the doctor?”

“Yes. Is he still here?” 

“He’s upstairs, come with me.”

You followed the nurse upstairs to meet the doctor; you normally wouldn’t have rushed over here so late at night but considering the events of this morning and the possibility of you losing your job, you needed to know if your mother was fit to travel. The doctor was looking over some charts and he greeted you in a friendly manner. 

“Well, here’s our favorite lawyer! How have you been?”

“I’m okay, thanks,” you replied with a smile. “I wanted to talk to you. Is everything okay with my mother? How’s her breathing problem?”

The doctor nodded. “It’s getting better. She might need to stay on the oxygen for a while but it’s definitely improving. She needs some rest and care. Is there anything specific you wanted to know?”

You bit your lip. “Yeah. I might- um, my work is asking me to move to Busan. Is there any chance that  I could take her with me? Would that work out?” you asked doubtfully. The doctor’s eyes widened and he shook his head immediately. 

“I’m sorry, but that’s not a good idea. I don’t think she has the physical strength to deal with a move or shifting to a new care home. She’s settled in well here. Maybe you can take her out on short trips for a day or two as long as she doesn’t have to physically exert herself. But shifting cities would only do her harm, both physically and mentally,” he replied firmly. 

You gave him a hesitant smile. “Right. Yeah, I knew that. I just wanted to, um…”

The doctor gave you a comforting pat on the shoulder. “You’ll figure things out.”

“I will. Thank you, Doctor.”

“You’re welcome.”

You went back downstairs, hands trembling. You had still been harbouring a bit of hope but now it was completely crushed. If things didn’t work out with the CEO tomorrow then you would have to start sending out applications and searching for a new job. It wasn’t going to be easy. Finding a job that was nearby and still paid enough for you to cover the costs of your mother’s medical care was going to be…

It was going to be a nightmare. 

Fuck. 

“Did you get a chance to talk to the doctor?” the nurse asked you kindly when you came back downstairs. 

You nodded. “I did, thanks.”

“Now I get why you were reluctant to come on the phone,” she added with a giggle. “You were with your boyfriend, huh? He’s really handsome. How did you manage to snag a guy like him?”

You flinched. “What?”

Her eyes widened. “I didn’t mean that you’re not attractive! You totally are-”

You ignored the flustered nurse and hurried into the lounge area. Your mother was still sitting in her armchair, but kneeling beside her on the carpet was Park Jinyoung. He was holding her book, the sleeves of his dress-shirt rolled up, as he read something aloud to her with a cheerful smile on his lips. Fuck. The nurse was right. Park Jinyoung was incredibly attractive but he was also incredibly not-supposed-to-be-here.

“Jinyoung,” you called out as you approached. “What are you doing?”

Jinyoung looked up at you with an innocent smile. “Oh, hey! I got tired of waiting in the car so I came over to meet your mother. She has great taste in books! I have a couple by the same author at home but I’ve never read this one-”

You cleared your throat.

Your mother smiled up at you. “What did the doctor say, darling?”

“He says you’re getting better and that you just need to rest,” you told her. She didn’t need to hear about the troubles you were having at work, she had enough to deal with. You squeezed her hand lightly. “I need to get going, mom, I have a lot of work. I’ll come by and see you tomorrow night, okay?”

Jinyoung grinned. “I’ll come too! I can bring you a copy of-”

“No you won’t,” you told him firmly. “Let’s go.”

Jinyoung turned to your mother and made a face. “Has she always been this grumpy? How did you deal with her when she was younger?” he asked while your mother chuckled. You reached out and grabbed Jinyoung’s sleeve to pull him away. 

“We’re leaving, Jinyoung.”

“Yes, ma’am,” he replied with a roll of his eyes. He followed you out of the care home and got back into his car with a small smile on his face. He was still smirking even as he pulled out of the parking lot and you could feel your anger building. 

“What is so amusing?” you demanded. 

Jinyoung shook his head, chuckling to himself. “Nothing.”

“Tell me.”

“It’s nothing.”

“Tell me what you’re laughing about, Park Jinyoung, or I swear to god-”

Jinyoung laughed. “Okay, okay, I’ll tell you. Your Mom uses a baby picture of you as a bookmark and I saw it,” he told you. You instantly flushed red. Fuck. You knew what picture that was. It was the one where you were two years old and wearing a horrible princess dress as you snuggled with a large teddy bear. 

“Fuck. Okay, fine, let’s not-”

“You were a really ugly baby,” he said with a laugh. 

God. Why did you put up with this man again? You resisted the urge to punch him in the face. 

“Thank you.”

“It’s okay. You’re pretty now,” Jinyoung told you with a smile. His dark eyes twinkled mischievously as he looked at you. “You’re kind of annoying and you act like a grumpy school teacher who's never been laid, but you’re pretty.”

“Please just drive.”

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

[savrenim]

oneemotionperday replied to your post “oneemotionperday replied to your post “trying desperately not to let...”

Omg you followed me back sjkalshflakasjsns I'm SCREAMING I LOVE YOUR BLOG AND YOUR WRITING

aaaah oh my gods I am just a Simple Person you show up in my notifs a fair amount and scrolling through your blog was an ‘oh huh this seems like the sort of content I like on my dash’ and that about fully informs my tumblr habits, tbh if you’ve commented on things before I’m almost surprised I didn’t follow you earlier

answering everything in one -- it is.... fairly unlikely that an actual fic will happen, a short one-shot that gets posted to tumblr very well might because the idea is just so funny but it’s also.... it almost feels like the idea needs no more building on? like just. the scenes are there and so funny to imagine like the whiplash of Andy going “oh gods do I need to take care of these immortals too” when she meets Isaac and Miria and then learning nope there’s a whole immortal Mafia that has it under control

(like alt if the story was to start in an action setting and not a comedic setting of running into Isaac and Miria when both on a heist, there would be a dramatic shootout between Andy & Co and Everyone Dies and then there’s a realization on both sides of “OH FUCK, IMMORTALS” and then a realization that the rules work slightly differently? because just “all of our rules apply to ourselves and see you as immortal, but do not apply to you” is such a cool weird setup.) 

(like also the clear and obvious world background to that one is just “two different demons gave out immortality a bit differently” that at least writes itself)

the other, like, HILARIOUS scene in my mind is Czes runs into one of them, tries to introduce himself as Thomas, introduces himself as Czes, and then immediately goes “who the fuck made you immortal bc we thought we knew everyone who had access to that information” and Andy & Co go “oh my GODS IS A CHILD IMMORTAL IS THERE NO MERCY IN THIS WORLD” (and then immediately “...wait....more immortals......” “actually um hey funny question has anyone else in this group had a really funny dream about a train that then just turned into a series of dreams about increasingly improbable robberies because I wrote it off on account of it being too ridiculous but, uh....”)

there are possibilities just I don’t think enough possibilities and enough of a plot to draw me away from all my active writing projects all of them

also can I rant for a moment about how much I love magic rules, the current set of magic rules that I think I’ve maybe got the answer on both counts namely “can immortals get haircuts”

bc in Baccano it is pretty strongly implied that nah you’re frozen exactly the way that you are when you took the elixir, as well as we have evidence from Czes and acid and fire and what-not still having hair that nah hair is also a thing that follows the same regeneration rules. EXCEPT. if you look at screenshots of Huey on the ship and Huey in the 1900s, Huey has clearly gotten a haircut in between. which leads me to my theory that is not my theory it was my friend’s but it’s gotta be the answer: your hair does not grow and it does re-attach and if you want a haircut what you gotta do is lock your hair in a box really quickly so it cannot physically re-attach itself to your body and is just stuck in the box 

which also leads to my hilarious idea of “okay but if you want your friends to find you, you should give all your friends little clippings of your hair that they can put in clear boxes and then they will have little hair compasses that will always point towards you”

anyways. hair works differently in The Old Guard!!!!

because first of all Andy clearly has had a haircut in the modern day vs centuries ago. so they can cut hair!!!! but also nobody’s hair looks different in the movies after explosions / gunshots / etc. specifically, when Nile is shot all the way through the head in the first scene with Andy, I’m fairly certain that the blood marks on the back of her head indicated that the bullet had gone all the way through, and, given their placement, should have totally messed with two of her braids, but her hair was perfect and not ripped up afterwards

so clearly something interesting is going on in the hair department there. my theory is that their regeneration has to do with being hurt, and that their bodies will reset back to what they were just before they got hurt, which means that if your hair is harmed in the line of duty dying it will return to the perfect state it was in before, but if you’re just chill and want a haircut it’ll be fine you can get a haircut 

can you tell if I was the evil scientist in charge of interrogating the captured immortals I 100% wouldn’t have bothered doing evil things like stealing samples of their DNA in painful ways etc etc I just would have sat them down in very comfortable chairs and had a long conversation with them about exactly how their hair worked because it’s Very Important, Inquiring Minds Need To Know, what are the rules of your immortality CAN YOU GET HAIRCUTS