#every second of enjoyment I get out of it is immediately canceled out by shame

[spyruce]

I’ve reached such a low of how I’m in a friend group of so many neurodivergent people and yet the current interest is so cringe that THEY will judge me if I talk about it. I’ve reached a new low. Cringe and NOT free. Cringe and Caged.

[villainousshakespeare]

Bobby’s Play Date Part 1

The pandemic is keeping Tom idling in London by himself. One positive is that wearing the mask helps him avoid recognition, allowing him to wander in the park with his dog, Bobby. On one of their walks, Bobby becomes smitten with a dog named Lulu and Tom is equally enchanted by her human. Can the Hiddleston men manage to find a way to see the lovely ladies again?

Tom Hiddleston/OFC

Rated M - Pandemic, Fluff, Quarantine, Masks, Adorable Puppies, Meet Cute, Second Part May (will) Contain Smut

@yespolkadotkitty @just-the-hiddles @hopelessromanticspoonie @wine-and-whines @arch-venus25 @caffiend-queen @devilish–doll @enchantedbyhiddles @hiddlesholic @i-do-not-fangirl-i-fanwoman @kellatron55 @ladyoftheteaandblood @latent-thoughts @gorgeous1974 @maryxglz @myoxisbroken @nuggsmum @nildespirandum @pedeka @redfoxwritesstuff @sinfully-lustful-darling @vodka-and-some-sass @wrathkitty @kingtwhiddleston @wolfsmom1 @poetic-fiasco @shiningloki @dangertoozmanykids101 @bookworm-christina @thecutestlittlebunbunfairy @amwolowicz @delightfulheartdream @frostbitten-written @what-a-flammable-heart @tom-hlover @nonsensicalobsessions @myraiswack @loki-yoursaviourishere, from-hel-i-with-love, @sweetsigyn, @fictiondoesitbetter, @ms-cellanies @evieplease @viviennes-tears @turniptitaness @cynic-spirit​

It was months into the pandemic that had ground the world to a halt. Tom desperately hoped things would go back to normal soon, and that a vaccine would be found to help more people from getting sick and dying. There were, of course, many changes to the world at the moment that Tom was not pleased with. Being unable to work, for instance, or travel to visit his sisters was both frustrating and depressing. One change, however, he had to admit he was not completely adverse to.

Tom loved his fans. They were usually polite, often intelligent, and had donated millions in his name to charities. He often said that he couldn’t consider himself an actor without an audience, and he meant it. It was just that there were times when he wanted to enjoy a little anonymity. Particularly when health advisories suggested a six foot distance between people, Tom was relieved to be able to slip on a plain black mask along with his baseball cap and sunglasses and blend in with the other people wandering about on errands.

He was enjoying just such a stroll now despite the warmth, grateful for the ability to hide in plain sight. Bobby frisked happily on his lead, chasing after imaginary prey as they ambled aimlessly down the winding path. It was a lovely, sunny day, but fear was keeping many people at home and they had the park largely to themselves.

When they reached a bend, Bobby began barking excitedly and pulled Tom along, his human chuckling as he was dragged by his furry companion. The reason for Bobber’s excitement soon became apparent. Sitting on a bench placed beside a scenic little river was a woman in a flowered mask, holding the lead of a small, gold and white shih tzu dog in a ridiculous pink and white checked dress.

Tom had to take a firm hold as Bobby frantically tried to go over and meet the smaller dog, who had begun barking herself as they rounded the bend. Her fluffy head, complete with bow to keep the hair from her eyes, perked up, and she began jumping up and down in a little dance. Bobby calmed down a bit as he felt Tom’s pressure on his lead, but his tongue still lolled out of his mouth in a dopey smile.

“Steady,” Tom commanded, feeling embarrassed as Bobby continued to hover as close as allowed to the silly looking strange dog. “I’m sorry, I promise he is completely friendly.”

“It’s okay, so is she,” the woman replied, smiling with her eyes even though he could not see her mouth behind her mask. “You know, she’s usually quite shy, but she seems to like him! May I pet him?”

“Please, and thanks for asking.”

Letting the lead out a bit, Tom watched as the woman reached down to give Bobby a good pet, complimenting him on being a handsome boy. Her fluff of a pup had advanced timidly, and she and Bobby commenced sniffing and circling each other with obvious enjoyment.

“Wow, I have never seen her respond like that to a strange dog!” the woman laughed.

As she spoke, Bobby rolled onto his back and waved his paws in the air with a complete lack of dignity.

“Safe to say he is rather taken as well,” Tom chuckled. “Absolutely shameless! Mind if I have a seat? It seems a shame to deprive them.”

He gestured to the bench next to hers, wanting to keep a safe distance and indicate he respected her space, and the woman nodded. She was dressed much more simply than her dog, he noticed. Black leggings and long rose colored tee shirt, a pair of keds. Apparently, she got all of her whimsy out on her pup.

“What’s his name?” she asked, watching as the dogs frolicked with each other.

“Bobby,” he supplied. “I’m Tom.”

“I’m Leia, and that ridiculous creature is Lulu.”

“Like the princess?” he couldn’t help but ask with a chuckle.

“General,” she answered without missing a beat. “It’s what happens when you are born during the release of a cultural phenomenon. Pity all of the little girls out there now being named Daenerys or Gamora.”

Tom held his breath for a moment. If she was a Marvel fan, then did he have to worry about her recognizing him? Fortunately, she seemed more interested in the game of tag their companions were playing, and he let himself relax.

“There’s a dog run about half a mile from here,” he suggested after a few minutes of companionable silence. “It’s actually where we were headed.”

“I know, but Lulu is so skittish,” Leia sighed. “She just huddles in a little ball when the bigger dogs come near her.”

“She seems fine with Bobbers.”

“I know! Your adorable boy is some sort of sorcerer! It makes me so happy to see her playing with another dog!”

“I have to ask…”

“The dress?” she guessed; voice wry.

“Yeah.”

“She’s a rescue. When I got her, she was a pathetic, bedraggled little thing that had been there for ages. It was winter, and the first times I took her out I had to put a coat on her. After that, she started equating dressing with going out, and would get so excited every time I took a coat or sweater out for her. When the weather warmed up, I realized that I missed the way she would jump up and literally throw herself into whatever I had picked out for her to wear. It’s completely silly, I know, but it makes her happy, and she just looks so cute!”

Tom’s heart melted a little as he listened to her explain. Yes, the dog looked silly, but it was such a sweet reason that suddenly the little dress transformed into a symbol of kindness rather than an eccentricity.

“She does look adorable,” he said.

A beeping noise had him drawing his phone from his pocked, and he was surprised at the time. He had to get back home soon for a virtual session with his trainer. Oddly, he found himself reluctant to go. It had been so long since he had just spent time with another person, it had felt good just to sit in her presence and relax.

“I’m afraid I have to get going. But Bobby and I usually walk this way around lunch time,” he blurted out, lying through his teeth. “Hopefully we will run into you lovely ladies again. So that the dogs can play.”

He was more grateful for the mask than ever, as it hopefully hid the blush he could feel coloring his face. Once more her vivid eyes sparkled and she stood up too, twisting around with him as they attempted to untangle the leashes.

“I’m sure Lulu would love that!” she told him, picking up the golden dog as she whined and tried to follow after her new friend. “We’ll see you around, Tom. Bobby.”

With a jaunty step he let his long legs take him away, looking forward to tomorrow already.

It rained the next two days. Not just a soft drizzle but am early summer storm that made the idea of a pleasant walk a fantasy. Tom and Bobby both resented the weather, and it was a toss up which of them was more disagreeable as they were forced to stay indoors.

When the sun shone on the third day, Tom immediately cancelled all of his afternoon plans. He had waited patiently, he told himself, he was not going to let this day go to waste. It was for Bobby’s sake, after all. The pup deserved a nice day out after being shut up inside.

They left home mid-morning, Tom unable to sit still any longer. He couldn’t say why exactly he was so keen on meeting Leia and her silly dog again, but he had been able to think of nothing else during his enforced isolation. Perhaps it was simply the novelty of meeting someone new who didn’t instantly faun over him or act nervous and shy. She treated him as though he were just an ordinary guy walking his dog in the park; which of course was what he was!

He arrived at the benches where they had met earlier that week, but they were empty. It was still early, so they made a circuit of the nearby trails. His eyes always alert for their new friends. They passed a few other people walking their pets, but both Tom and Bobby were uninterested beyond a nod hello and brief sniff. The Hiddleston men were both to focused on finding particular companions.

It was, as it had been before, Bobby who first discovered their presence. As they were walking through a more secluded, twisting section of the park, the dog’s ears pricked up and he began barking in excitement. Tail wagging frantically, Bobby yanked on the lead and pulled Tom along behind him as he took off around a curve. A high pitched yip sounded from the direction he headed.

“Well hello there!” Leia greeted him, leaning down to scratch Bobby’s head as he and Lulu danced around each other. “We were hoping to run into you boys again!”

“Eh heh heh,” Tom laughed, dancing around to keep his leash from entangling too badly with hers. “Obviously Bobby here was looking forward to that as well! As was I.”

“Well then, I am so happy you found us.”

He felt absurdly pleased as they fell into step beside each other. The two dogs were happy to walk along, darting back and forth in play as they went.

“Were you going anywhere in particular?” Leia asked casually.

“Oh, just wandering about,” Tom answered, not wanting to admit that they had been on a mission to hunt down the ladies.

“Well then, we can wander together.”

As the dogs played, Tom and Leia chatted happily. He learned that she was an aspiring writer working on edits to her first novel, and a tour guide, specializing in guiding small groups around literary sights in London as a way to earn money.

“Of course, it’s hard to be a tour guide with no tourists,” she sighed. “You would think it would give me more time to write, but its hard to focus. Anyway, I talk too much. What about you?”

“Oh, I’m on furlough,” he shrugged, staying vague. “Just loafing about the house, annoying Bobby. So what is your novel about?”

He managed to direct the conversation back to her, even though she avoided the subject of her book. Instead, she brought up some of the more interesting places she had brought tourists. Tom, a proud Londoner, had been to many of them, and they happily discussed the more interesting locations. She seemed impressed that he had read books by most of the authors they discussed and was quite ready with a line or two from memory. In turn, Tom loved how expressive she became when describing the joy people experienced finding themselves walking in the footsteps of their favorite fictional characters.

By the time Leia announced that she and Lulu needed to head home, (Tom thought he detected regret in her voice) he was surprised to realize that they had been talking for almost two hours. It was the most pleasant afternoon he had passed in some time.

After that, Tom and Bobby spent every afternoon in the park. At first, they managed to “stumble” upon their companions most days. The days they did not were frustrating for both of them and usually ended with them barking at each other. After a few run-ins with Leia and Lulu however, Tom took the plunge and asked if they would like to make their daily meetups official. Leia seemed pleased, but with the caveat that some days she did need to stay home and write when she was struck by the rare inspiration. Tom deflated momentarily, thinking she was looking for an out, until she offered to text him an let him know if they would be absent. He happily gave her his cell phone number and took hers in return, letting her know that she should feel free to text anytime and then feeling like an idiot the minute the words left his mouth.

Over the next two weeks they met all but three days – two because of her writing and one when the skies once more conspired to thwart him. Their conversations ranged from literature to films to favorite places to travel. Leia sometimes teased him about his obvious upper class life style, jetting about to Viet Nam, Hawaii, Australia… but that was the closest his celebrity status ever came to being brought up. He would occasionally feel a stab of guilt over keeping that part of himself from her, it felt dishonest to lie by omission, but he was enjoying being just Tom, and didn’t want to spoil it.

Tom started taking more care in his appearance as the days went on. Gone were the torn running shorts and frayed t-shirts, and in their place were his slim fitting dark jeans and more presentable tops. If those tops also stretched a bit tight across his chest to better show off his muscles, well, he had worked hard enough to achieve them! He made some attempt to style his untamable locks as well, experimenting with different products until he found something that made the curls less crunchy. If he was remembering Leia’s off hand comment about how she liked his natural curls no one else needed to know that.

On the one month anniversary of meeting them in the park, Tom paced nervously back and forth near their favorite bench as he waited for them to arrive. He had a proposition for Leia and hoped desperately that she would say yes. When Bobby started frisking about he knew that he would see her walking Lulu, and spun around to see her come towards them.

“Sorry I’m late!” she smiled with her eyes. “This one managed to hide my house keys, and it took half an hour to track them down to her stash under the sofa.”

Lulu looked unrepentant as she pranced around Bobby, and Tom chuckled good naturedly. He gestured to the bench and sat after Leia, leaning back and stretching out his legs.

“No worries, honestly,” he assured her. “I am just delighted you are here now.”

“You are the perfect gentleman.”

“All lies, I assure you,” he waited for a moment, wanting to sound casual, and then launched into it unable to delay any longer. “I was wondering… The park is lovely, of course, but I thought it might be nice – for Lulu and Bobby – if they had a bit more freedom to run about. Lulu being afraid of the dog run, she has no opportunity to be off leash, and that can’t be too fun for our furry companions.”

“They seem to be having a good time to me,” Leia laughed, looking at where the dogs were investigating a small pile of leaves by the side of the trail. “But what did you have in mind?”

“Well, you see, our house has an enclosed back yard. Not huge, mind you, but large enough they would be able to chase to their hearts content without fearing larger beasts. I thought that perhaps you and Lulu might want to come over this Friday evening for dinner. There’s a testing sight not far from here. We could each get swabbed to make sure we are uncontagious. My bubble is only my Mum and Bobbers, and from what you’ve told me yours isn’t much bigger. It should be reasonably safe for you to come. I could make us dinner, and we could eat outside. If you would be comfortable with it, that is.”

He tried to look calm, but inside Tom was a riot of nerves as he waited for her answer. Leia’s brow crinkled in thought, and she glanced again to where the dogs were once more hopping back  and forth across the path.

“I can’t do Friday,” she told him, and his heart fell.

“Oh, alright then. It was just an idea.”

“Friday is my virtual book club,” she went on, talking over him. “Would Saturday work?”

“Saturday would be perfect!” he beamed.

“Great! I’ll go to the clinic for a test tomorrow then. Would you like me to bring anything?”

“Just Lulu and a healthy appetite.”

“Excellent! Now what do you say we walk over to the little waterfall?”

Tom practically floated through the rest of their walk. He had enjoyed getting to know her so much, but he wanted to spend more than an hour or two at a time with her. Dinner would give them a chance to really relax. Plus, he was dying to see her mouth. After a month of imagining her smile he wanted to know if what he had in his mind was anywhere close to reality. She would see his full face too, but if she hadn’t recognized him by now it was doubtful she would from the lower half of his face.

His confidence dipped a bit when they returned home. Looking around, Tom began to panic. Between photos of him in his full Loki regalia to a group picture with the cast of Skull island, there were far too many give aways of his fame. She might not recognize him, but you would have to like on another planet not to know who Sam Jackson was!

Tom spent the next few days rearranging his home. His awards, normally discreetly placed in a cabinet in his living room on the insistence of his mother, were moved to a back shelf in his office closet. The set photos from a decade plus of filming were shoved under his bed and various pieces of memorabilia were secreted away in the spare bedroom. By the time he was done his guilt had increased but he was fairly confident that all trace of his career had been tucked away safely.

“Well, Bobbers, let’s hope we don’t blow this,” he sighed, adjusting the bandana he had bought to go around the dog’s neck. Bobby whined slightly and Tom grinned. “None of that, you want to look good for your date. She has a fondness for clothing, after all.”

Bobby gave him a look that said he clearly knew Lulu was not the one Tom was trying to impress with his new fashion statement, but Tom cheerfully ignored it. Tonight was going to be a wonderful night.

[acnelli]

A Moment of Truth

My second entry for Ron’s Chessboard Fest 2021.

Pairing: Ron/Harry

Rating: T

Prompt 13: A Moment of Truth

Summary: Harry ruined the best thing that ever happened to him. But the Boy-Who-Lived is determined to make it right again.

Thanks again to TheUltimateUndesirable and to the best beta @accio-broom!

This story is kind of a follow up to the fic Thinking About You by Solstice Muse. You don't have to read that story to understand mine, but I highly recommend getting on LiveJournal and befriending Solstice Muse for their amazing stories. Pure talent, believe me! I also got permission from the author to write my story based on theirs.

You can also read this story on AO3 & FFN.

Harry wondered if he had ever felt more alone in his life as he stared up at the ceiling of his bedroom. If he would’ve thought about it hard enough, he might’ve remembered several instances where he felt just as lonely, but Harry simply didn’t possess the strength right now.

Ron left him.

The  thing he would miss the most left him, and the only person he could blame for it was himself. It took the better part of the last two weeks for Harry to realise it and all of yesterday to really accept that ugly truth.

The day Ron had walked out of their flat was nothing but a giant blur. He had drunk himself into a stupor, and if the broken mirrors were any indication, he pretty much had lost it. When he woke up the next morning, violently retching into the toilet, he called in sick and just went to bed again.

Although he had gone to work the following days, he floo called his PR manager, telling Liam to cancel all events for the time being, offering a half-arsed explanation and reminding him that it was  his  job to make up stories for him.

Harry had appeared at work as early as possible and left for home when the cleaning staff threw him out of his office. He didn’t want to return to the vacant flat, Ron-free and, therefore, absolutely miserable. But he was also trying to avoid Arthur, Percy and Hermione. Especially, Hermione.

Harry’s favourite pastime these last two weeks had been to curse and blame Hermione for all of this. She had obviously waited outside that day, escorting Ron to her parents’ place where she lived at the moment. Harry had watched them through their living room window as they walked hand in hand to the next apparation point.

Everything had been fine, after all, hadn’t it? Taking his manager’s advice to feed the monster to protect his actual private life and his loved ones from the press, he had found his celebrity life rather comfortable and even enjoyable. After years of Harry having been announced to be Bachelor of the Year, rumours started to form about why he had still been single. Together with his manager, he worked out a way to lure the press away from the truth, and there hardly had been an instance anymore where Harry wasn’t accompanied by one beautiful witch or another. Events and parties full of photographers did not bother him anymore as long as they only captured him socialising and having fun. Almost every day, the papers had a story to tell about him, but never about who he really had gone home to. Never about Harry being gay and him being madly in love with his best mate.

Most of the time, he concentrated on this feeling of betrayal and silently cursed Ron and Hermione for wanting him to come out officially. Didn’t they see how intrusive and destructive the press had been all his life? Didn’t they see how dangerous this could be for Ron? For himself?

But deep-down, Harry knew it wasn’t like that. Ron would never demand Harry come out. The only thing Ron wanted from him was the freedom to live his own life out in the open. It had been a perfect situation for Harry these past months; working, going to parties and then coming home to Ron.

But for Ron, it hadn’t been perfect.

Harry remembered that horrible night when he came home from some Ministry ball, only to find a note telling him Ron went out with Hermione to some Muggle gay club in London and that he doesn’t have to stay up should he come home earlier than Ron.

Shame and guilt threatened to choke Harry when he thought about his terrible actions that night. Harry had seen red the second he read the words  Muggle gay club, immediately assuming some dirty fuck will try to steal his Ron.

When he finally found them, he watched Ron and Hermione dancing like there was no tomorrow, looking absolutely ridiculous, but like they had the time of their lives. He watched Ron having fun, smiling like Harry hadn’t seen him smile in a very long time. He watched as Ron got approached by a very handsome Muggle and Hermione finding herself another dance partner, winking at Ron. He watched Ron turn the man down. And he stopped watching when that fucker ignored it and tried to kiss him. Before Ron had the chance to shove him away, Harry forced himself between them and snarled into the muggle’s face to fuck off, seconds away from beating the shite-eating grin out of him.

Harry knew now that this night must have been the turning point for Ron because after screaming at Hermione for luring Ron into that gay club, he completely lost it on his boyfriend. They had a terrible row that night, but Ron had forgiven him once more.

All feelings of betrayal got soon replaced by guilt. Over and over again, he recalled Ron’s wounded expression every time Harry asked him to not join him for one party or another, Ron’s anger and hurt when Harry exploded on him the few times Ron had gone out for the night without him or asked more than accusing questions afterwards. He imagined himself at these parties, having fun, drinking and talking about Quidditch most of the time. And then he imagined Ron, sitting alone in their flat, waiting for Harry to come home, just as alone as he was now. Ron wasn’t happy anymore, but Harry had refused to listen to his words and see Ron’s misery.

He suddenly hated himself — not just hurting his lover but also his best mate. Harry most likely ruined the most wonderful and perfect thing in his life and probably killed any chance to get Ron back. Maybe he even bollocked up their friendship for good, just like he had with all his other friendships if all the declined Birthday invitations Ron sent out before their break-up were any indication. Hermione always had been very vocal about what she thought about Harry’s treatment of Ron, and he just had been too deliberately blind and busy to notice everyone turning away from Harry.

That’s why he lay in bed. All alone. On his Birthday.

The only guest he had today had been Ginny, bringing him a little basket with some snacks Mrs Weasley prepared for him. She had been smart enough to not wish him a Happy Birthday.

While Ron hadn’t asked him to come out of the closet, Harry wanted to keep Ron inside it. He should’ve known better than anyone what it means to be hidden away for being different from the rest, for a dirty secret not allowed to get out. This comparison with the Dursleys made him hate himself even more.

If he wanted to have a real shot at getting Ron and his friends back, Harry had to clean up his own life first. Slowly, he got out of bed, determined to get a long overdue shower. Before he went into the bathroom, though, Harry summoned some parchment and a quill, writing a short note and a rather long letter (for Harry’s standards anyway).

He quickly delivered the note to his manager’s assistant through a short floo call, telling her it was urgent.

His owl Athena nibbled on some owl treat he gave her while Harry tied the letter to one of her claws. “Alright, Athena,” he said, his voice unusually wavering, “please, deliver this letter as fast as possible, okay? And make sure Hermione reads it.”

*******

Ron was well aware of Hermione’s worrying glances in his direction.

They both sat on Hermione’s bed, with their backs leaning against the headboard as Ron distracted himself with the wonder that is a television, and his best friend unsurprisingly reading a book beside him. He was glad she didn’t force him to talk about his feelings right now.

Over the last two weeks, Hermione had gone out of her way to keep Ron from thinking and worrying about Harry. An impossible task, really, but she did such a great job of trying to cheer him up and even succeeding sometimes that Ron often felt overwhelmed by the need to hug her.

Today though, Hermione knew Ron couldn’t be kept from thinking about Harry. It was the last day of July, after all, and Harry’s Birthday. And it would be the first Birthday since Harry turned 17 that Ron and Hermione wouldn’t be with him. It would be the first Birthday in the last four years that Harry and Ron weren’t a couple anymore.

In the moment, sadness and hurt seemed to choke him, and he wondered if Harry had even considered them a couple in the first place. Right at the beginning, when they started dating after some unbelievably awkward confessions of feelings, it had been like a dream come true. Finally, the times of mutual pining had been over, replaced by a sense of such content and happiness that Ron often had woken up in the morning, sure it all just had been a dream. A second later, though, with Harry’s arm around him, reminded Ron that it was genuine.

Despite Ron missing Harry terribly, he knew it was the right decision to move out. For the sake of his own sanity and happiness, he had to leave Harry. Ron knew that Harry loved him more than anyone else. It had taken him a long time to realise that sometimes, love wasn’t enough.

Hermione wrote a short letter to Harry this morning, wishing him a Happy Birthday. They both signed it, deciding it would be best if they sent one letter together. The other day he floo called Ginny, asking her to check on Harry today because Ron knew that his best mate wasn’t fine. None of all these parties, charity Quidditch matches and Ministry galas could change that. At least, not after two weeks. A very selfish part of Ron hoped it never would.

Ron was about to suggest to Hermione to grab some ice cream when Harry’s owl tapped on the window glass, wildly flapping her wings. Instead of letting Athena in, Hermione looked at Ron with her eyebrows furrowed but with a questioning look directed at him.

Letting out a deep sigh, Ron stood up and opened the window. The owl flew inside, flying straight towards Ron’s opened and still not fully unpacked trunk. Landing gracefully on top of one of Ron’s bright orange Canon t-shirts, she lifted the claw the letter was tied to and hooted loudly at…Hermione?

“Well, it’s yours, apparently,” Ron said, pointing at the cream-coloured envelope. “Maybe he just wants to say thank you for the Birthday wishes.”

“Ron, you know th–“

“Please, just open it, Hermione.”

Her brown eyes held the kind of anxiety he felt too, but she still freed Athena from the letter and gave her an owl treat. Apparently, the bird got the order to make sure Hermione read the letter, as Ron knew that she would’ve been long gone after receiving her treat.

“Are you really sure, Ron?” Hermione asked, looking up from the unusually thick letter, “Will you promise me to not floo over, right away? Regardless of what that letter might say.”

He slowly nodded at her, his gaze fixed on Harry’s letter. This certainly wasn’t a simple ‘Thank You’ note, and the fact Harry wrote such a long letter at all scared him to the point of pure panic.

“Please, open the letter, Hermione.” If it was because of his panicked voice or Hermione’s own curiosity what the letter might say, Ron couldn’t tell, but she finally opened the envelope, took out the note and held it in a way both of them could read it.

Dear Hermione,  

First of all, I’m sorry for any potential annoyance Athena might have caused, but I told her not to leave before you have read this letter.  

What I have to tell you is crucial for both you and Ron. I know you will show Ron this letter right away; maybe he is even reading it with you right now. But this letter is actually primarily for you. What I want to tell Ron, I have to tell him in person, and maybe after today, he’ll give me a chance to hear me out.

Hermione, I’m sorry.

I’m sorry for all the reasons you expect me to be sorry for, but I’m also sorry for letting our friendship crumble and fall apart. I had been so angry at you for stealing Ron. Stealing him, like he is some kind of possession to lose. The last two weeks, I was consumed by this unreasonable rage that I thought was gone after Tom Riddle’s soul left me forever. Yes, it took me two weeks to finally realise that you just were a good friend to Ron.  

Because a good friend is what you are. And I know you tried to be a good friend to me for the longest time. I took you for granted. Just like I took Ron for granted and everyone else I turned away from during last year. I turned into a horrible person without noticing it, or rather, refusing to acknowledge it. And because of that, I also turned into an awful friend.  

I could blame many things for my behaviour, like fame or the press or my manager or my childhood. But after taking a hard look at myself, I concluded that I can’t blame anyone or anything for this but me.  

Before I even try to make it right with all of you, before I can look into Ron’s eyes again, I have to sort out my life first. Actually, I’ll start to do this today.  

Both of you have to up your security. Use any charm you can think of. I doubt you will be in any serious danger, but I have no idea what kind of reaction this will cause. It’s best if you stay away from Diagon Alley tomorrow. I won’t mention Ron’s name, of course, but expect journalists trying to corner the two of you for interviews.  

Do you remember the beach cottage we celebrated my 19th Birthday? I will spend the whole day there tomorrow. Would you and Ron join me? I have a lot to say.  

Love,

Harry

A heavy silence fell over Ron and Hermione when they both finished reading Harry’s letter. Hermione slowly folded the parchment and laid it down on her nightstand before looking up at Ron with wide eyes.

Ron didn’t know what to say, let alone what to think of this. Harry did not outright say it, but the indication was clear enough. Whether he’ll write an official statement or give a press conference, Harry planned to come out today.

Wasn’t this what Ron wanted? For Harry to not give a flying fuck what the rest of the world would think about him? For finally being able to live a life out in the open?

But instead of feeling relieved and happy, he felt an old terror creeping up his neck. Like in a trance, he sat down on the bed again and stared at Harry’s letter. Ron ran his hands over his face and groaned from the overwhelming sensation of guilt and anxiety washing over him. Did he force Harry to do this? Did he force Harry to expose himself to the nasty side of the public?

Soft hands tugged on Ron’s arms until he was forced to look up. Hermione knelt in front of him, a determined look in her warm, brown eyes. “What do you want to do now?” She asked, lightly caressing Ron’s cheek.

“Well, the letter was for you…” Ron joked, his attempt to lighten the mood earned him one of Hermione’s trademark eye-rolls. “Fuck, Hermione, I have no idea. What if Harry is just doing this because he’s hurt?”

“Harry always acts impulsively,” Hermione answered in a thoughtful tone, “but his words sound sincere to me. And as he said in his letter, he really needs to sort out his life.”

“He shouldn’t have to come out though for that.”

“No, he doesn’t have to do this. But for his own sake, I really think it’s the right way to go.”

“I can try to get a hold of him and check how he’s doing if you want me to,” Hermione added when Ron didn’t respond.

“You would do that?” Ron looked down at her once more, feeling grateful to have Hermione by his side.

“Of course,” Hermione stood up from her kneeling position to sit beside Ron and took his hand into hers, “But Ron, just because Harry is doing this doesn’t mean you have to go back to him. I’ll support you, no matter how you decide, but please promise me you won’t let yourself get treated like that again. I don’t want to see you getting hurt like that anymore.”

He smiled at her and softly squeezed her hand. “I promise, Hermione. But I think I can’t just continue as if nothing happened. Not so soon, anyway.”

“Good,” Hermione stood up and went over to Ron’s suitcase where Athena still sat, looking expectantly at them, “Come on, Athena. I bring you back to Harry.” The owl hooted at her as if in protest but still flew up to Hermione’s right shoulder.

“Hermione?” Ron said before she could disapparate.

“Yes?”

“Thank you.”

*******

The press room of his manager’s company resembled a cozy living room rather than the place he held all his important meetings. Aside from the chairs for the reporters and photographers and the speaker’s stand at the front, it was decorated like a room he would suspect to find in some Lord’s castle. It had an impressive fireplace, a golden chandelier and was decorated with several large paintings and fancy looking rugs.

As Harry took a quick look into the press room from the door that led to Liam’s office, he saw that some news outlets had sent their reporters early. They clearly expected big news from him, considering the last and only press conference he gave had been the one right after the war. Harry was sure they thought he would announce an engagement. It was the obvious conclusion, and if he wouldn’t have been in such a grave mood, he maybe could’ve found it amusing to imagine their faces after he gave his statement.

You’ll see their reactions soon enough, Harry thought.

Despite what he was going to do in less than ten minutes, he felt strangely calm. It could’ve been the years of experience handling the press, but Harry knew this wasn’t the case. Talking about the Quidditch Cup final or the latest decision of the Wizengamot was one thing. Telling the world he was gay was something else entirely.

No, Harry’s calmness didn’t come from years of navigating the press, but rather Hermione’s visit an hour ago. She didn’t say much, just that Ron wanted him to know he didn’t have to do this. And she made it very clear this outing wasn’t a safe ticket to get Ron back. He told her that all he had said to her in the letter was true and that he needed to do this for himself more than anything else.

Hermione had simply nodded and turned around to floo home, but she had stopped in her tracks.

“Be safe,” She said softly, without turning around. Not waiting for an answer, she stepped inside the fireplace, leaving behind the orange flames dancing inside it.

Hope sparked inside his heart because, obviously, Ron and Hermione still cared and tried to look out for him. Even if he ruined every chance of a relationship with Ron, not all seemed lost considering Harry’s friendship with his two best friends.

“Are you ready?” Liam’s voice came from behind him. The short, grey-haired wizard stepped up beside Harry, looking up at him with his ever-professional mask of indifference.

“Ready,” Harry answered, testing his voice, glad it sounded strong and unwavering.

Without missing a beat, Harry’s manager opened the dark, wooden door, and the two of them walked to the podium. Several cameras flashed already when Harry cast  Sonorous  at himself. The room was filled with at least one journalist and a photographer from every news outlet in Magical Britain.

The news of Harry Potter being gay was going to spread like wildfire.

“Good evening,” Harry started to speak, his amplified voice quieting down the low chatter of the audience. He planned to make this short, wishing to be back at his flat already.

“I’m here to inform you that I won’t be attending any official events for the rest of the year.” The voices grew louder again, but Liam stopped the chatter by simply raising his hand. The way this short man managed crowds never ceased to amaze Harry.

“This is simply a way for me to get my life back on track, and I know I need this time for myself in the upcoming months. I-”

“Mr Potter,” Rita Skeeter interrupted, her acid green Quick-Quotes Quill and a parchment hovering in the air beside her, “Does your-”

“Mrs Skeeter, I don’t remember my manager giving you permission to ask questions,” Harry cut her off, trying very hard to not let her admire his middle finger. “And if you wish to attend this press conference until the end, I advise you to not interrupt me again.”

Raising an eyebrow at him but otherwise remaining silent, Rita sat down again, her quill still scribbling wildly. Harry knew he would pay for this. He was just about to give her the perfect ammunition, after all.

“I could just leave it at that. It would definitely prevent my manager from being forced to read through a lot of hate-mail, and it would spare me from having to hide from the public for a while. But these past months, my relationship with the press and official events destroyed everything I really hold dear. And no, I don’t blame you for this. You intruded on my life more than once, but what I have let my life become is entirely my fault. That’s why I have to make the reason for my retreat public. Before I reconcile with the people I hurt, I have to make it right with myself, first and foremost.”

Complete silence settled over the room. Not a single whisper could be heard, and even Rita Skeeter’s quill stopped scribbling, simply hovering beside the witch.

Harry closed his eyes for a brief second as his heartbeat threatened to beat out of his chest. It was now or never, so Harry took one last deep breath, and then, he finally told the world the truth.

“I’m gay.”

*******

A gentle breeze greeted Ron and Hermione when they apparated to the beach Harry mentioned in his letter. The slight wind felt like a relief compared to the stuffy heat in the city. Hermione could only shake her head at Ron for complaining about the hot days, given how rare they were in London.

They could already see the small cottage from their apparation point, the security charms still allowing them to notice it and enter its wards. It was a short walk to the small wooden cabin, but it was enough time for Ron to break out in a sweat.

Yesterday night they had heard about Harry’s press conference on the radio. The news station recited his speech word by word before analyzing it, also word by word, and taking wild guesses on which wizards were most likely to be a past or present love interest of the Boy-Who-Lived.

Harry’s words kept repeating in Ron’s mind, making him feel guilty, relieved and sad, all at the same time. More than anything else, he wanted to know how Harry felt about all of this, but at the same time, he feared what Harry might expect from Ron now.

With a gentle wave of his wand, Ron alerted Harry of their presence, and a second later, he walked out of the cottage. His black hair looked even wilder than usual, fitting his red-rimmed eyes and the wrinkled shirt he was wearing.

Despite Harry's ruffled appearance, Ron immediately felt a pang of deep longing inside his chest. All he wanted to do right now was to run his hands over Harry's five o’clock shadow and kiss away the dark bags under these brilliantly green eyes.

Instead, he just stood in front of Harry, willing his heart and mind to slow down.

After what felt like an awfully long time of awkward silence, Harry cleared his throat. “Would- would you like to come in?”

“I won't come in with you,” Hermione answered, and before Harry could protest, she turned to Ron, “We'll meet at Neville’s at 7?”

“But Hermione, I want to talk to you too.”

“I know, Harry,” Hermione looked back at him, her lips tightly pressed together, “But I think you should talk to Ron first. Alone.”

Ron could see Harry didn't expect this. He probably prepared a whole speech for Hermione and was now at a loss for words after her announcement.

“We will talk, just the two of us. And I will try to rebuild our friendship, regardless of what Ron might decide for himself.” Hermione paused for a brief moment and took a step closer towards Harry. “But should Ron decide to give your relationship another chance, remember that our friendship will stand and fall on how you treat him. I won't watch one of my best friends hurt the other again.”

And as if to make a point, she took her wand out of its holster, gripping it tightly. Without waiting for Harry's response, though, Hermione quickly squeezed Ron's hand before turning around and disapparating with a quiet plop.

“I really wanted to talk to her,” Harry sighed, weaving a hand through his unruly hair.

“How are you?” Ron asked instead of saying something about Hermione's decision to keep out of this conversation.

Apparently surprised about Ron's sudden change of topic, Harry looked at him with a puzzled expression. A second later, though, his gaze softened, and Ron squirmed under the longing Harry's eyes held.

“Better than I thought I would be” Harry took a small step closer.

“You didn’t have to-”

“I know,” Harry quickly interrupted him rather loudly, and with a much quieter voice, he said, “I know. But I wanted to. I needed to do this.”

Ron nodded and stared at his feet, not knowing what else he could say right now.

“Would you like to sit in the backyard? I have some beer and coke in the fridge.”

“Sure. I'll take the coke.” Ron didn't trust himself to not throw all resolve into the wind if he drank something stronger than Butterbeer. Booze combined with Harry's toned legs on full display on this hot summer day? Ron wouldn't take any chances.

Five minutes later, the two of them found themselves sitting on the small porch, overlooking the ocean. The sea was calm today, and the sound of the waves lulled them into a companionable silence.

Ron couldn't tell how much time had passed when Harry finally started to speak. He told Ron about his past two weeks—all the feelings he went through, from fiery anger over crippling guilt to unbelievable longing. He talked about how much he had hated himself and how this feeling shrank to a tiny flame after yesterday's coming out. And when Harry looked at Ron, telling him he was sorry and he was well aware Ron most likely couldn't see a meaning anymore behind his apologies, a single tear escaped Harry’s eye.

Ron wanted nothing more than to brush it away, but he didn't. Instead, he braced himself for what he needed to tell Harry.

“Harry, I-,” Ron sat up a little straighter, making sure to look Harry in the eyes, “I need time. I need time for myself, at least, for a while. I realised that I stopped being my own person in the last months of our relationship, and like you, I have to find my way back to myself.”

“I obviously want you back, Ron,” Harry's shoulders slumped down a little from the disappointment, but at the same time, Ron thought he saw something like resolve shining behind his green eyes, “But I'll be happy as long as you let me be a part of your life. Maybe- maybe we could just hang out for a while. Just as friends. Go to the pub, watch a Quidditch match, stuff like that.”

Ron gave him a small smile. “That sounds good.”

They didn't say anything else after that. The sun wasn't ready to set yet, but its late afternoon glow gave the sea a beautiful reflection.

At some point, Harry's hand that lay between them on the wooden bench accidentally bumped against Ron's. Harry jolted and wanted to pull his hand away, but Ron stopped him. He softly grazed over Harry's wrist with his fingertips, eliciting a small sigh from him. Ron watched as his hand interlaced their fingers; Harry's olive scarred skin against his pale, freckled and equally scarred skin. It was a beautiful sight.

They kept sitting this way until it was time for Ron to go, just staring out into the sea and holding hands.

*******

Resisting Harry Potter had never been easy for him, but nowadays, everything his best mate did seemed to drive Ron crazy.

Christmas was a week away, and a month ago, Ron and Harry started dating again.

One day, after attending one of Ginny's Quidditch games, they had gone to a small, cozy Muggle Café, trying to warm themselves up from the cold November weather. The Polyjuice Potion they used to disguise themselves from the watching crowd in the Quidditch stands had long worn off, but a rather persistent strand of blonde hair on Harry’s head refused to turn back into its usual raven black state.

Ron had reached over their tiny round table to point it out to Harry but instead almost knocked his glasses off in the process. They burst into laughter, and Ron didn't know if it had been the rush of cheering for his sister today or something else entirely, but for some reason, he had chosen this moment to ask Harry out on a proper date.

And it could have been all in Ron's head, but he failed to remember if he had ever seen Harry smile as he had at that moment.

Without further discussing it, they had kept it slow. Their dates had involved a lot of kissing again, but they always had gone home alone in the end; Harry to his flat and Ron to the tiny apartment he currently shared with Hermione since early September.

Now though, they stood just outside of The Leaky Cauldron, which Hannah and Neville reopened today. After taking over the pub from Tom, they had renovated the large terrace, surprising most of Tom's old guests that it even existed.

For the reopening, they had decorated it with fairy lights and some plants that didn't mind the season’s cold weather. High, round tables stood everywhere where the guests could have some drinks and snacks.

Together with Hermione and her new boyfriend Martin, they stood around one of these tables, drinking the most delicious hot chocolate Ron ever had. While Hermione was busy introducing Martin to their friends, Harry was busy running his hand over Ron's arse.

From their place right in front of the wall of the Leaky Cauldron, they were able to observe everything, but no one was able to see how Harry’s hand seemed to have found a new home in one of Ron's back pockets.

After about an hour, Ron finally had enough. Before Harry could sneak his hand there again, Ron grabbed his wrist and pulled him behind one of Neville's monster plants which happened to be the perfect hiding place.

“You noticed all the bloody journalists out there, right?” Ron asked but clearly didn't expect an answer from Harry as he kissed him as he had wanted to all night. Harry didn't miss a beat and pulled Ron tightly against him, returning the kiss with equal enthusiasm.

Harry moaned into Ron's mouth when Ron sucked at his lower lip, making him want to apparate home with Harry right away.

As Harry set to kiss Ron's neck, it was now the redhead’s turn to bite back a groan. “Let's- let's- Oh Merlin, Harry.”

“Let's what?” Harry whispered as his hands slowly wandered down Ron's body.

“Let's go home,” Ron said in a breathy voice, lips swollen from kissing, “Let's say goodbye to Hannah and Neville and then go home.”

Harry shook his head as he stepped away from Ron, but tugging at his hand as he went into the direction of the party guests.

“Before we go home, let's show them,” Harry stepped up to Ron again, this time just kissing him softly on the lips, “Only if you're okay with it, of course.”

“But you already had your moment of truth. Everyone knows you're gay.”

“They don't know about us, though,” Harry said, softly stroking Ron's cheek, “And besides, my real moment of truth had been when I apologized to you and our friends. The public outing was nothing compared to admitting I had been a shit friend and partner.”

“You know, I don't care about the press knowing about us, but you don't have to prove anything to me, Harry.”

“I think I do. Let's show everyone the wizard that won over The-Boy-Who-Lived,” Harry said, and without another word, he led them into the crowd again.

Nobody was paying attention to them, despite the great Harry Potter standing in the middle of the expansive terrace, holding hands with his best mate. Mistletoe hung from above them, and Harry grinned at the coincidence.

“Doesn't seem like we have much of an audience,” Ron stated as he observed all the party guests who were too busy chatting and drinking, “But I think one of the fucking paparazzi has spotted us.”

“Do you think that's enough, Weasley? Simply holding hands in front of a paparazzi?”

Ron was well aware Harry was daring him, but Ron had been sorted into Gryffindor for a reason, after all. Never breaking eye contact with Harry, Ron put his thumb and middle finger inside his mouth and whistled so loudly, everyone startled out of their conversation and turning their heads towards them.

And without missing a beat, Harry put his arms around Ron's neck and kissed him. Ron heard surprised gasps and camera flashes and cheering, but all he could focus on were Harry's lips and his heart beating so fast he was sure everyone could hear it.

As they broke the kiss, Ron put his forehead against Harry's and grinned like the bloody, lovesick fool he knew he looked like right now.

“Take us home, Potter,” Ron whispered, feeling freer than ever before in his life.

They never made it back to the party.

[chucklegigglechortlesnort]

“Levi’s”

👉👈 i wrote this a while ago and... it’s been sitting in my drafts for a few weeks bc i’m not really sure about it but i mean it’s something right???

this concept popped into my brain after i bought a levi’s hoodie and connected the dots a little later

i hope it’s enjoyable

warnings: minor angst to fluff

Shoving open the door to your room, you flopped onto your bed with a dramatic huff.

You had spent the day in the human world, having accompanied Lucifer and Diavolo on business and the days events had left you completely drained.

Well, almost completely.

You still had enough left in you to spend some time with Levi, who you had promised earlier that day that you’d at least start a new anime that he’d been excited to watch.

You were exhausted and running on fumes but you couldn’t bring yourself to cancel on him last minute. He was just so excited about it and you didn’t want to ruin that by going back on your plans.

You pushed yourself up with a huff, rummaging through the bag of belongings you had managed to convince Diavolo and Lucifer (more so Lucifer - Diavolo was actually curious to see where you lived and therefore easy to convince) to let you snag from your apartment before you returned home to the Devildom.

You quickly shed your daytime wear for an over-sized hoodie and a pair of pajama shorts. Vastly more comfortable, you stepped in front of the mirror - more out of habit than anything else - to check your appearance. The hoodie you had chosen had a large “Levi’s” logo displayed on the front and you snickered to yourself. It was by pure coincidence that you had it, but you couldn’t help but snag it when you saw it hanging in your closet. It was too perfect to pass up and you figured you’d wear it as a joke, even if it wasn’t that funny.

You completed the look with a pair of fuzzy socks before leaving for his room.

When you reached his room, you knocked three times followed by two taps and a jiggle of the doorknob.

“What’s the pass-code?”

“No matter how deep the night -”

“- It always turns to day eventually.” 

There was a click and the doorway opened a crack. Levi peers out, looking around before yanking you into his room. You roll your eyes at his theatrics but allow a smile to creep onto your face as he shuts the door behind you.

“Ready to get this party started?” You asked.

Immediately his face lit up in excitement. It was cute how enthusiastic he was about every new anime or game he started and you couldn’t help but share it. He launched into rambling about how many rave reviews it had gotten, and how it was animated by one of his favorite studios and written by one of his favorite manga authors.

A giggle escaped you on accident and Levi glanced up to defend himself, but any retort quickly died in his throat as soon as his gaze landed on your hoodie. 

A flush rose to his cheeks as he stared at the Levi’s logo splayed across your chest. 

“Levi? Hello? You-”

“Y-your shirt- it- why does it have my name on it?”

You glance down, having momentarily forgotten about your little joke. You let out another giggle, much to Levi’s dismay. 

“Oh, yeah! It’s a popular brand up in the human world and I couldn’t pass up the opportunity. Funny right?”

Funny.

Levi guessed one would consider that an amusing coincidence, if they weren’t him. 

Or if they didn’t have a massive, ugly crush on you.

Or if the fact that you were basically wearing an item of clothing that declared you as his didn’t nearly send them into a cardiac arrest.

Then yeah he guessed that maybe ‘funny’ would be a way to describe this particular coincidence.

“Y-yeah. Sure.”

The oddly curt response caught you slightly off guard as he turned to stiffly stride over to the gigantic bean bag stationed in front of the obscenely large flat screen that sat opposite of it. You were slow to trail after him, hesitant after the rather cold exchange.

You plopped yourself down beside him on the beanbag moving in to cuddle up to his side, as usual (it had taken him a while to get used to this in the beginning, but luckily he had warmed up to the affection and was often reluctant to let go at the end of the night). However, he not-so-subtly scooted away from you, much to your disappointment.

Had your joke really been that bad?

You knew he may not have found it that funny but... still. You had at least expected a ‘dumb normie’ comment or something.

The terribly familiar concoction of anxiety and shame crept up on you as you settled into your seat, grabbing a pillow from nearby and hugging it to your chest to try and muffle the feeling. You crushed the cushion against you and wrapped your arms around your knees as Levi grabbed the remote and started the anime.

Unfortunately, you couldn’t bring yourself to pay attention, your brain was too occupied with picking apart and replaying the scenario. The soft flashing images only encouraged this hypnotizing lull of negative thoughts and none of your efforts to snap yourself out of it seemed to work. Somewhere in your mind you knew you should stop and that it was ridiculous to get so worked up about such a small issue - if you could even call it that - but the mindset to put that into action eluded you.

At some point your gaze had drifted over to Levi, who was seemingly fine, as well as completely engrossed in the show.

It must’ve been just you then. 

Levi must’ve felt your gaze burning into the side of his skull, because his own eyes flicked over to meet yours and his face went crimson.

“What are you staring at?”

The bite in his voice only managed to strike you deeper.

You felt a tightness in your throat and a stinging sensation beginning to rise behind your eyes.

Nonononono this wasn’t happening. Not over something this freaking stupid.

‘It’s not a big deal.’ You told yourself. ‘You’re reading way too much into it, just stop you idiot.’

However, much to your further disappointment in yourself, you couldn’t manage to hold back your tears.

You tightened your hold on the pillow and buried your face into it in order to muffle your sniffles. The patheticness of your situation did absolutely nothing to improve your mood and all you wanted to do was leave and go to bed so you could cry yourself to sleep like a loser and forget about it in the morning. And probably never where this hoodie again.

This stupid hoodie.

You could feel your sinuses plugging up with mucus and the urge to sniffle came once again, except this time you forgot to hide it with your pillow.

Levi’s gaze fell on you once again at the sound. How were you crying already? You were only on episode three and nothing major happened- it was a slice of life for hell’s sake. It took him a second to register that your eyes weren’t even on the screen and that they were glued to somewhere on the floor and as soon as he saw the welled up tears in your eyes, he panicked.

“_-_____? W-what the hell are you crying for?!”

That’s it. You were absolutely mortified.

“I-it’s nothing, I’m fine, Leviathan. I’m probably overtired. I think I’m just gonna call it a night, okay?” Your voice came out rushed and cracked as you uttered ‘fine’ but you didn’t waste any time dwelling on it as you slid off the bean bag.

Oh. Oh no. You used his full name. You only ever used his full name when you were upset. With him. Oh god oh fuck what had he done.

You were already halfway across the room when he had finally worked up the nerve to chase after you. 

“Wait! _____, I-”

“-Was my joke really that bad?”

Levi froze as you turned around to face him, eyes glossed over with tears and directed anywhere but back at him.

“Huh? No!”

“Well then are you mad at me because we had to postpone tonight a bit because I went to the human world? I thought you were fine with that.”

“No that’s not-”

“Then, why?” Your eyes finally met his, but Levi wasn’t sure if he was relieved or if he just felt worse.

The avatar of envy’s mouth snapped shut and he thought over his next words carefully.

“Why... what?”

Nice. Good one Levi.

Your shoulders dropped and you stepped away.

“...Never mind. Goodnight, Leviathan.”

Levi flinched at the use of his full name, watching as you turned toward the door and crossed the rest of the room.

You placed your hand on the door knob, gently turning it with fatigue that showed in your every move. 

The way your shoulders sagged and the hecitance in your step caused a heavy dread to settle in Levi’s gut and in less than a second he had crossed the remainder of the room, wrapping his arms around you from behind and tugging you into his chest. His face settled in the junction of your neck and shoulder and you had to keep yourself from shuddering when his breath hit your skin.

“Levi-”

“I’m sorry.”

It was barely a whisper but you had heard it perfectly clear.

“I’m sorry for being mean, and for not laughing at your joke, because it was really c-cute and you’re really cute and- um I guess I just didn’t know how to react but that’s because I’m just a stupid shut in and I don’t want you to think that I’m an icky creep or something even though I’m probably not doing that great a job of convincing you other wise and I’m sorry about that too- “

“-Levi.”

“Y-yeah?”

“You’re not just a stupid, creepy shut-in, okay? And I definitely don’t think you are.”

His grip loosens around your shoulders and you wiggle around in his grasp to face him. Your eyes are glazed over and tired, but despite that he can see sparks of something akin to adoration shining in them.

“You don’t?”

“Mm mm.” You hum, shaking your head.

It’s at this point that Levi realizes that your faces are inches apart, and the entirety of your body is pressed flush against his. His face is immediately overtaken with red and he slowly eases away from you. His large hand wraps around your smaller one and he grazes his thumb back and forth over your palm.

“D-do you... want to stay the night?”

You nod softly, a smile gracing your features once again, much to Levi’s relief.

“Yeah, sure.”

He’s quick to tug you back over to the plush bean back in front of the TV, figuring it’s a bit more spacious than his bathtub. He plops down and pulls you into his lap before he can chicken out, wrapping his arms around your waist so you’re pressed against his chest once again.

There are a few beats of silence before Levi’s voice rings softly in your ears, mumbling groggily as he drifts off to sleep.

“...You should wear that hoodie again.”

“...Hm... mabe I will.”

. . .

“Oh, and Levi?”

“Hm.”

“Apology accepted.”

The next thing Levi feels is a pair of lips ghost across his neck, but not a second later you’re out like a light.

You were certainly, with out a doubt, going to be the death of him.

[sethrine-writes]

Devil-sitter May Cry, Ch. 7

Pairing:  Dante x F!Reader, Vergil x F!Reader (Undecided)

Words:  2071

Warning:  Vergil being Vergil

Story Summary:  Low on cash and desperate for a job, you reply to a flyer for a babysitting position. Little did you know that the opportunity to watch over two special boys would bring your life so much mayhem and adventure…and, perhaps, a chance at a family of your own.

A/N:  Whew, what a hot minute it’s been for this bad boy! I’ve not forgotten, just merely had a bad case of the “wtf should I do next?” But I got it figured out! Let’s get into the thick of it, shall we?

------

Chapter 7 - Not Necessarily Needed

Finding things that both V and Nero could eat together had become somewhat of a challenge for you.

Nero was the child every parent hoped for - nonplussed by veggies or fruits or temperatures, and cleared his plate every time with absolutely no fuss. V was the complete opposite, finding issues with flavors and textures at nearly every meal time and only eating small portions, though you could hardly blame that last part on taste and more on his underlying medical conditions.

Since taking up babysitting them, you felt you were starting to learn how V operated, taking careful consideration of the things he wouldn't eat and asking what it was he didn't like about the foods he ignored. It was quite the conundrum, but you were more than willing to learn how to incorporate things in a way that would be more enjoyable for him during mealtime.

So, you had promised to make the boys a special dinner that they would both enjoy, keeping exactly what it was a secret, much to the lament of two curious minds. Another evening scheduled for babysitting meant you would be in charge of dinner for the boys, so it was the perfect time to try it out.

Luckily for you, the little grocery store on your way to Devil May Cry wasn't terribly crowded. The inside was much bigger than you anticipated, however, longer rows of nicely lined canned goods and sections for both a tiny little meat market in the back and a nicely stacked produce section immediately to your right.

Despite yourself, you were immediately drawn to the stack of packaged strawberries on display, their sweet scent enticing you into grabbing a carton, and then a second one, for good measure. They would make a great snack later into the evening, and both Nero and V seemed to love them, much to your relief.

You smiled at the thought of the two boys, remembering what you had set out to get in the first place and beginning your trek through the store to find the ingredients you would need.

Peering down the aisles, you scanned the shelves slowly and with purpose, almost missing the pair of familiar faces at the end of one aisle and having to do a double-take when your mind caught back up with you.

It was rather odd seeing Vergil, of all people, in a grocery store rather than at the shop. It was almost just as strange seeing him dressed down from his usual get-up, though the nice slacks and collared shirt looked very becoming on him. He also seemed a bit more relaxed, though you weren't completely sure if it was because of the different environment, the clothing, or that he simply felt more comfortable-

You were staring, you realized rather abruptly, blinking a few times as you reorganized your thoughts, almost wanting to laugh at how easily your train of thought had derailed.

With an amused huff, you moved towards the pair, catching V's attention as you got closer. His eyes lit up considerably, and you were sure he was smiling excitedly, though it was thoroughly hidden behind the simple cloth mask shielding his face from his cute little nose downward. It was a necessary precaution, you knew, but it still felt like a crime to hide his sweet smile from the world.

"Papa, look!" he exclaimed excitedly while tugging at his father's hand, breaking away seconds later to excitedly wrap his thin arms around your legs.

Vergil didn't appear too worried that V had wandered away, and part of you had a feeling that the demon hunter already knew you were approaching almost as soon as you stepped foot in the same aisle. 

"Hey there, V," you greeted with a chuckle, carding your fingers through his hair as he pulled back to look up at you with happy eyes. "I was just on my way to the shop, but I had to stop to get a few things. Looks like you and your dad had the same idea, hm?"

"We don't have anymore soup," V lamented, leaning a bit heavier against you in a feigned show of dismay.

"Truly a tragedy," you answered with a mocked tone of seriousness, smiling and winking at V when he peeked up at you. His following giggles were too precious for words.

"Where's your partner in crime, huh? Surprised I haven't seen him yet."

"Nero stayed home with uncle Dante," V explained, his voice lowering to that of a not-really-at-all whisper as he added, "they're working on something secret."

"Vitale," Vergil spoke suddenly, his tone baring a light warning. V gasped and popped his little hands over his mask-covered mouth as he moved back to his father's side. His eyes still held a giddiness to them when he looked back up at you, however, so he wasn't in trouble, just being reminded to keep the secret, whatever it may have been.

You looked up at Vergil, then, who seemed to still be focused on the selection of canned soups before him, seemingly deep in consideration, though you knew better than to doubt how very much aware he truly was of his surroundings.

"I'm surprised to see you without your, ah, katana," you spoke as a means of small talk, hoping you had remembered the style of his sword correctly.

"It tends to frighten the public without need of it," he replied matter-of-factly, eyes darting to you for a fraction of a second. "Why are you here?"

The question caught you off-guard, and for a moment, you felt as if you were being reprimanded for something you didn't know you had done.

"I...well, I had an idea for a dinner the boys would both like," you explained while looking down at V and smiling, "or, well, I hope they do, at least. I just needed to pick up a few things before-"

"You're not needed, tonight."

The statement alone shouldn't have made you feel any sort of way, really, but Vergil's intimidating self made it feel like a jab in the chest. It was just the way he was, succinct to the point of almost too harsh, too serious at times, but it still hurt for reasons you could not explain.

You were well and truly confused.

"Dante said you both had a job-?"

"It was canceled this morning," he answered. "Dante tried calling you, though claims you did not answer."

Your brows furrowed in further confusion before realization dawned on you.

With a quiet, barely muttered curse under your breath, you reached for your cell phone in your pocket, flipping it open to find you had three missed calls and a voicemail from the shop, of which you had labeled DMC in your contacts. From the time stamps, he must have tried to get a hold of you right after you left for the bus.

“This stupid thing,” you groused, frustrated and just on the side of embarrassed for basically having left the house for no reason.

“I’m so sorry,” you started aloud as you pocketed your phone once more, “I should have looked before I left the house. Stupid ringer hasn’t been working properly...oh, but that’s no excuse. I guess...I guess just give me a call on my home number the next time you guys need me.”

An apologetic smile crossed your lips as you looked down at V, who seemed to understand that you wouldn’t be visiting that day and held a particular kind of disappointment in his gaze.

“I’ll see you in a day or two, okay, kiddo? Say hello to Nero for me.”

You then looked back up at Vergil.

“Sorry, again. I’ll be more mindful to check my phone before I leave the house, just in case this happens again.”

Unsure how else to end the conversation, you gave a curt nod and turned around, mumbling about how stupid you were for not having checked your phone, of all the days to forget, c’mon, it really had to be today?

As you began your walk of shame down the aisle, you were unaware of the way V looked at his father imploringly, tugging lightly at his wrist to gain his attention. You missed the way Vergil caught on to the look his son was providing, missed how the usually stoic man’s intense stare followed you for a short moment, how his calculating gaze actually softened just a fraction...

"We don't have plans."

You paused in your retreat, turning back around to fix yet another confused stare on Vergil, who looked rather stiff all of a sudden despite having done nothing but intently look over the cans of soup before him.

"I'm sorry?"

"For dinner, that is," he clarified, gaze cutting over to you briefly, purposefully. "Nothing set in stone, though knowing Dante, he'll want to order in, as usual. It's quite tiresome, eating from the same three places everyone can agree on."

There was a moment of silence as you ruminated on what was said, feeling as if, perhaps, you were missing something. You may not have known Vergil very well, just yet, but you knew enough to figure that he wasn't much for saying things without intent, and it definitely felt like there was some intent hiding somewhere in his words.

Vergil's eyes cutting over to you once more had you jumping into action at their piercing intensity, stepping closer subconsciously and speaking nearly without thinking.

"W-well, uh, I did have plans for dinner...for the boys, of course," you stammered through, hoping you had caught on correctly to what was being implied behind his words, "and it'll be another hour or so before the next bus comes around. I'd be more than happy to cook for everyone, if you don't mind me waiting around."

You could see the line of Vergil's shoulders visibly relax, his posture not as stiff as it had been before, and it took you a moment longer to realize that the seemingly apathetic man had actually been nervous over what you would say. The knowledge alone was nearly jarring.

There was no way a man like him would be nervous over a woman like you. What a silly notion!

"I've no doubt no one would object to your presence, or your cooking, if the praises of young minds are anything to go by," Vergil responded coolly, "though for your recipe, do keep in mind how voracious the two at home can be."

"I've seen how much Nero puts away," you mused with a chuckle, "so I can only imagine what Dante is like. I'll make sure to double everything."

"If cost is any concern," Vergil spoke up suddenly, finally meeting you head-on for the first time during your impromptu meeting, "I'm prepared to cover anything you hadn't anticipated in your budget."

The sincerity behind his words was...actually rather sweet, if you thought about it. Granted, you hadn't anticipated needing to double the recipe, but you were certain you had enough to cover everything you needed. Still, that he had offered to pay the extra was actually very kind of him.

"I should be able to cover it," you answered with a smile. "Dinner's on me, tonight. You can cook for me, next time."

You meant it as a joke, following up your nonchalant words with a light chuckle. It was a moment too late that you realized your joke could have been misinterpreted or in poor taste, however, and you nearly spluttered in your haste to rectify yourself.

"Oh, I-I didn't mean it like- what I meant was-"

"It would only be fair," Vergil cut in, his icy gaze having moved back to the canned goods as he finally selected something from the shelf and placed it in his hand-held basket.

"Right, yes," you agreed in a rush of breath, mentally hitting yourself for being so damnably awkward in that moment.

You were a trainwreck, truly. And it wasn't even a Monday!

"I'll just...go grab everything, then. I'll, uh, meet you at the strawberries when I'm done?"

You were met with an affirmative hum, followed by V's excited little gasp as he looked up at Vergil, speaking for the first time since you had addressed his father with a much more chipper outlook.

"Ooh, strawberries?! Papa, can we get some?"

Perhaps you would only need one carton of the fruit, after all.

------

Tag List:  @v-vic, @astridstark13

[lia-nikiforov]

Spring 2018 Anime Final Review

So, uh, this is six months late. I’ve had half of this post in my drafts forever. To make it short, as I’ve mentioned previously, mom lost her job, which has not only been a heavy hit to my sense of stability for the last six months, but also means my time to watch anime was seriously reduced and even now a slight change of plans fucks up my whole schedule and sets me back for a full week. Anyway, nobody cares about any of these shows anymore so let’s get straight to it? I’m gonna ommit the two-cours that continued into the Summer - hopefully I’ll be able to make that post soonish? idk. Worst to best, same as usual

The crappy gender politics pit of shame

Darling in the FRANXX: I think everyone has ripped this show to threads at this point and there isn’t much I could add to that. It is quite funny to me to see how many people flipped out when the show went completely bananas in its last few episodes. Feels a bit like KADO, I’ve been telling y’all this was a ton of empty crap since episode 2, it just took the writing to completely self-destruct for everyone else to notice. A part of me feels tempted to do a long post breaking down just how badly the show collapsed in its final shebang, specifically how every single twist and turn completely nulled any remote kind of message or central thesis the show may have had, but at the same time it doesn’t seem worth the time. In the end, I may have given What is Internal Consistency, The anime way too much credit. It’s not hateful antigay propaganda, it’s just dumb as shits, with a writer and creators who didn’t think for half a second of the implications of what they were doing, and who were so incompetent they couldn’t even conserve the minimal plot and character coherency within a single episode, let alone 24. In other words, Darling isn’t saying “gays shouldn’t exist” but “I have no idea of anything regarding gay people”. What makes it egregious is that the show spent so much time acting like it was “meaningful” and “important” and yet it ended saying absolutely fucking nothing. Except mayb “have babies”. Down to oblivion you go, along with the likes of KADO, to the void of shows that couldn’t even be offensively bad and no one will remember a year from now. Bonus garbage points for the half-assed “bury your gays”.

Nil of Libra Admirari or whatever this show was called: I’m not trying to diss on the show, I just genuinely never remember the title because I have the JP and EN all mixed up. Not that it matters much, as far as I could tell, the show could call Shalabalabatuna and it would have the same significance in regard to the content. But the title isn’t important. In fact, it may be a bit unfair to have this show in this section. For the most part, Main Girl is very self-determined and has an active role in the story.... but then the last two episodes heavily featured a lot of rape threats or rape themes and forced pregnancy (real and threat) and I don’t really understand why they’d go there all of a sudden. One of them was treated relatively well, even empowering the victim in the process, but when the ikemen bad guy was rambling endlessly about how he wanted to impregnate the protagonist it really turned me off :/ I’m also not a fan of “main boy was her secret fiancé all along”, but at least they also handled that somewhat decently. It’s a very disposable series, but since I watched all of Amnesia, I think I owe every otoge adaptation at least the smallest chance to clear that very low bar, and Libra of Nil does it, more competently than most other stuff in the same genre.

Hisone to Masotan: I really, really wanted to love this show. Even now, as I put it in the pit of shame category, I’m pained. There was a good show in this, and a lot of it made it to the screen: an adorable, charming little story about a woman finding her place in the world, making new friends, finding her calling and bonding with an adorable dragon. Unfortunately, it got buried down under this opressing, horrendous gender politics that tried to do something with bringing attention to sexism in the military only to cancel it out making the one dude that embodied that sexism getting rewarded with the affections of a girl he explicitly tried to crush. It also called back on the virgin or whore fallacy and even managed to shove in a “bury your gays” trope. Even though Hisone challenges the ritual bullshit, it’s too little, too late, and she does end up carrying it out anyway, so the defiance to the status quo is of little importance in terms of problematizing the ritual itself. Sorry BONES, it wasn’t meant to be this time. 

The ni fu ni fa section

Ni fu ni fa is a Mexican colloquialism for “It was okay but it didn’t change my life.”

Binan Koukou Chikyuu Boueibu HAPPY KISS: This soft reboot of the franchise had some really great episodes and did an actually good job of developping its characters. For the most part, it achieved what its predecessor did in terms of satirical comedy and I enjoyed it quite a bit. However, what bunked it down so low in the list was the final episode. At some point, the writers forgot they were doing a parody and made the show somewhat self-serious, way closer in tone to the magical girl anime it was supposed to be making fun of, rather than the satire its predecessor was. Whereas S1 ended with the whole Magical boy stuff being revealed as a crappy space reality TV show, this one ended with a real cheesy conflict about happiness and family and blablabla. Which is not bad by itself if this were a Precure show, but that kind of self-serious plot development just didn’t work for this series. I still enjoyed it, and the fanservice episode is one of the best of the whole franchise, but I’m a bit sad the finale missed the mark so badly.

Hinamatsuri: Hinamatsuri was very hit-or-miss for me. There were some truly brilliant episodes, a lot of funny vignettes and heart-warming stories, and then there was some stuff that made me uncomfortable -like every single Hitomi story- or felt unnecessary and dry. It also threw me off that the superpower dynamic completely disappeared in the second half of the show, especially in Anzu’s part of the story. It was okay but I feel like I needed something that felt like a closing, and choosing to end it with Mao who featured very minimally in the show overall didn’t cut it. It’s a fun show, I’d reccommend people check it out, but it felt a bit too disjointed for me

Persona 5: The Animation: This is a hard show to place because I love the looks of it and I think the concept is interesting and pretty cool, but there is something that’s keeping me from connecting emotionally to the story. The part where changing the villains’ heart makes them repent from their sins and become “good” feels very artificial and very tasteless when you’re dealing with rapists and abusers. I ended dropping it at episode 16, I just couldn’t find the motivation to catch up with the 6 episodes i’d fallen behind on because my schedule is a tragedy

Tokyo Ghoul: Re: I guess it’s fair to say I’ve kind of outgrown Tokyo Ghoul. There’s something messy and confusing about how this season panned out, and there comes a point in which misery porn just doesn’t cut it anymore. I still watch because Ishida has a way to make every single goddamn character extremely sympathetic, which makes for an emotionally engaging viewing even when you’re not sure of what the plot is supposed to be or who you should be rooting for. I tried picking up the new season that just started airing and immediately found I had no idea of what was going on, who was on who’s side and in general, who the fuck were 90% of the characters, so I dropped it.

Nanatsu no Taizai: Imashime no Fukkatsu: I’ve mentioned it before, this second season had the opposite problem than the first one: the pace was too slow. It took more than half of it to get to Escanor, and then the season ends at a kind of random spot. I really thought we’d get further along on the story, since Gowther’s backstory was hinted at in the openings, but no such thing happened. They did manage to give us a variety of cool moments and fights, and I love Ban so his scenes with Zhivago and Elaine made me quite happy, though I really wish the romance between Elizabeth and Meliodas wasn’t su dubious and cringy. In light of some revelations that take place further along the manga, going out of their way to emphasize that Meliodas was a sort of mentor figure for Elizabeth when she was a toddler seems unncessary and just very squeamish. I do hope we get a third season though, and an OVA of the Vampires of whatever side story would be great too.

Rokuhoudou Yotsuiro Biyori: I was pleasantly surprised by this show, and it’s closer to being one of my top of the season than it is to “meh”. It had some weaker, cheesier segments, but it also managed great whacky moments and a genuine soothing atmosphere. What surprised me most is that the vanilla looking cast of moderately handsome dudes managed to develop into interesting, funny individuals with a dynamic that made every episode enjoyable. A solid reccommendation for anyone wanting to see delicious looking food and moderately handsome dudes being ridiculous. Also, the cat episode is the best episode of anime ever produced.

The I’m probably the only person alive who enjoys these shows

Mahou Shoujo Ore: This is a difficult show to place because it wasn’t quite as great as I wanted it to be and its parodic nature took me by surprise, but somehow I was still seriously entertained more often than not. The twists in the final quarter and the absolutely bonkers finale was a total riot, but I definitely advise caution before going in, given that some of the jokes may seem insensitive or in poor taste in regards to gender presentation, sexuality and there are even some mild harrassment jokes that certainly made me roll my eyes.

Yowamushi Pedal: Glory Line: I don’t know if anyone’s noticed, but I think through half of the show’s 25 episode run, I was convinced the title was actually Glory Road. It’s kind of anticlimactic that it’s called Glory Line if they don’t actually reach the final Goal btw. Anyway, I feel I say this a lot, but really, if you didn’t like the previous Yowapeda seasons, there’s nothing here for you, and if you did, you’re probably not gonna hop off this late in the game. This season does suffer from the same dragging than its predecessors, with the added issue of being quite pessimistic for no reason in about half the episodes, and a diminished presence for Onoda. I really wish they hadn’t dragged the Day 2 goal so long, I really hoped we’d see the end of the race, but no such luck I guess. Still love most of it and hope we get one more season or a movie to complete the story.

The favorites of the season

Golden Kamuy: In spite of its pacing issues, terrible animation and general clunkiness, I can’t help but love this show. When season 1 ended my feelings for it had mellowed quite a bit, but as soon as I picked up season 2 this Fall I just fell in love all over again. It’s fun, unique, over-the-top in some ways, incredibly grounded in others, and the dynamics between the characters are incredibly charming. 

Hozuki no Reitetsu: It’s hard to talk about this one because it feels repetitive, given how tonally the show remains just the same across its three seasons. It could’ve very well been a one-season, 36 episode show, for how little it changes in spite of the time that transpired between the first season and the second. But in short, the comedy continues to be as spot on as always, the Zashikiwarashi twins are the best addition to the cast. It’s definitely a show I could watch endless episodes off, and the rare case of an episodic series with no overarching plot that I can enjoy wholeheartedly. 

Card Captor Sakura: Clear Card arc: Over the course of the series, I’ve expressed a few concerns and misgivings about how the story of this 20th anniversary sequel was playing out. The final episode was particularly troublesome in that it left the story unfinished in spite of deviating from the manga. In spite of this, more than anything I’m very happy that this continuation still retains what made the original so special, that they captured the magic behind Sakura’s “everything will be alright” spell and gave us the chance to spend more time with these beloved characters and see their stories continue. The slow but sweet development of Sakura and Syaoran’s puppy love is a definite highlight. Needs more Touya/Yukito and Yue in general.

Piano no Mori: This show got heavily overlooked because it was kidnapped by Netflix (pls stop immediately), and then when it was finally unceremoniously dumped a month or two ago, it came under fire for the wonky CGI during the piano scenes -and it is indeed very wonky-. But beyond that, I found the story very engaging, especially because Kai is such a fascinating protagonist, his intense rivalry-friendship with Megane-kun (sorry, it’s been six months, i can’t remember names) is exactly the type I can’t help but root for. Kai’s participation in the final episode gave me goosebumps. I’m very happy we’re getting a continuation,  can’t wait to see how the Chopin competition develops.

Wotaku ni Koi wa Muzukashii: Sweet, funny and absolutely delightful from start to finish, Wotakoi was easily one of the highlights of the season. Although there were some aspects about Cosplayer-senpai and Yuri Otaku-senpai’s (I’m really trying to remember the names, I’m sorry!! ;---;) that didn’t work for me -namely the izakaya segment- Narumi and Hirotaka more than made up for it with their clumsy yet adorable romance. I spent the entirety of the amusement park episode screeching. I really hope we get a continuation -and get a chance to see more of Hirotaka’s brother and his gamer friend too- and that in general we can get more anime about adult stories

Megalobox: Who would’ve thought that a show that wasn’t even in my radar before the season started would’ve end as one of my favorites, possibly of the year? Even as someone who’s only marginally acquainted with Ashita no Joe and has no interst in the sport of boxing, I was completely enthralled by the style and passion of this production. As I said a bit above, intense rivalries are very appealing to me, and the build up in the tension between Joe and Yuri was almost palpable, their mutual respect gave me chills. Definitely the surprise of the season, made even better by its optimistic happy ending to contrast with its predecessor’s tragedy. Megalobox is a unique anniversary project that is closer to an homage and it works perfectly. Definitely check it out.

That’s it for the Spring season! I hope i can do the summer season this weekend and maaaybe even my watchlist for the Fall season. Fingers crossed i won’t get swallowed up in other stuff :’D 

[noteworthynotes]

As a mother of six and a Mormon, I have a good understanding of arguments surrounding abortion, religious and otherwise. When I hear men discussing women’s reproductive rights, I’m often left with the thought that they have zero interest in stopping abortion.

If you want to prevent abortion, you need to prevent unwanted pregnancies. Men seem unable (or unwilling) to admit that they cause 100% of them.

I realize that’s a bold statement. You’re likely thinking, “Wait. It takes two to tango!” While I fully agree with you in the case of intentional pregnancies, I argue that all unwanted pregnancies are caused by the irresponsible ejaculations of men. All of them.

Don’t believe me?

Let’s start with this: A woman’s egg is only fertile for about two days each month. Yes, there are exceptions, because nature. But one egg which is fertile two days each month is the baseline. And those fertile eggs are produced for a limited number of years. This means, on average, women are fertile for about 24 days per year.

But men are fertile 365 days a year. In fact, if you’re a man who ejaculates multiple times a day, you could cause multiple pregnancies daily. In theory, a man could cause 1000+ unwanted pregnancies in just one year. While it’s true that sperm gets crappier as men age, it doesn’t have a fertility expiration date; men can cause unwanted pregnancies from puberty until death. So, starting with basic fertility stats and the calendar, it’s easy to see that men are the issue here.

“But what about birth control?” you might ask. “ If a woman can manage to figure out how to get an abortion, surely she can use birth control to avoid unwanted pregnancy, right?”

Great question. Modern birth control for women is possibly the most important invention of the last century, and I’m very grateful for it. It’s also brutal. The side effects for many women include migraines, mood swings, decreased libido, depression, severe cramps, heavy bleeding, aneurysm — and that’s just a small fraction of them.

Discouragingly, a promising study on a new male contraceptive was canceled in large part due to… (wait for it)… side effects. To be clear, this list of side effects was about one-third as long as the known side effects for commonly used women’s contraception. There’s a lot to unpack in that story alone. I’ll simply point out that, as a society, we really don’t mind if women suffer, physically or mentally, as long as it makes things easier for men.

But, men, I’ve got good news. Even with the horrible side effects, women are (amazingly!) very willing to use birth control. Unfortunately, it’s harder to get than it should be, but that doesn’t keep women from trying. Birth control options for women require a doctor’s appointment — sometimes multiple doctor’s appointments — and a prescription. They’re not always free, and often not cheap. Some are actually trying to make female birth control options more expensive by allowing insurance companies to refuse to cover them. In addition, contraceptive options for women can’t be easily acquired at the last minute. In most cases, they don’t work instantly.

The pill requires consistent daily use and doesn’t leave much room for mistakes, forgetfulness, or unexpected disruptions to daily schedules. Again, the side effects can be brutal — and not just in rare cases. Despite the hassle and side effects, I’m still grateful for birth control. (Please don’t take it away.) But it’s critical to understand that women’s birth control isn’t simple or easy.

In contrast, let’s look at birth control for men — i.e., condoms. They’re readily available at all hours, inexpensive, convenient, and don’t require a prescription. They’re effective and work on demand, instantly. They don’t cause aneurysms, mood swings, or debilitating cramps. Men can keep them stocked up just in case, so they’re always prepared. They can be easily used at the last minute. I mean, condoms are magic! So much easier than birth control options for women.

As a bonus, most women are totally on board with condoms. They keep us from getting STDs. They don’t lessen our pleasure during sex or prevent us from climaxing. The best part? Cleanup is so much easier — no waddling to the toilet as jizz drips down our legs.

So why would there ever be unwanted pregnancies? Why don’t men just use condoms every time they have sex? Seems so simple, right?

Oh. I remember. Men don’t love condoms. In fact, it’s very, very common for men to pressure women to have sex without a condom. It’s also not unheard of for men to remove the condom during sex without the women’s permission or knowledge. (Pro tip: That’s assault.)

Why would men want to have sex without a condom? Because, for the precious minutes when they’re penetrating their partner, not wearing a condom gives them more pleasure. So… that would mean some men are willing to risk getting a woman pregnant — which means literally risking her life, her health, her social status, her relationships, and her career — so they can experience a few minutes of slightly increased pleasure. Is this for real?

Yes. Yes, it is.

Imagine a pleasure scale, with pain beginning at zero and going down into the negatives. A good back-scratch falls at 5, and an orgasm without a condom is a 10. Where would sex with a condom fall? A 7 or 8? So, it’s not that sex with a condom is not pleasurable, it’s just not as pleasurable. An 8 instead of a 10.

Let me emphasize that again: Men regularly choose to put women at massive risk in order to experience a few minutes of slightly increased pleasure.

For the truly condom-averse, men also have a non-condom, always-ready birth control option built right in: the pull-out. It doesn’t protect against STDs, it’s an easy joke, and it’s far from perfect. However, it’s 96% effective if done correctly, and 78% effective in practice (because it’s often not done correctly).

Still, many men who resist wearing condoms never learn how to pull out correctly. Apparently, it’s slightly more pleasurable to climax inside a vagina than, say, on their partner’s stomach. Once again, men are willing to risk the life, health, and well-being of women in order to experience a tiny bit more pleasure for roughly five seconds during orgasm.

Think of the choice men are making here. Honestly, I’m not as mad as I should be about this, because we’ve trained men from birth to disassociate sex and pregnancy. We’ve taught them that their pleasure is of utmost importance.

As a general rule, men get women pregnant by having an orgasm. Yes, there are exceptions — it’s possible for sperm to show up in pre-ejaculate — but in most cases, getting a woman pregnant is a pleasurable act for men. But men can get a woman pregnant without her feeling any pleasure at all. It’s even possible for a man to impregnate a woman while causing her excruciating pain, trauma, or horror.

In contrast, a woman can have nonstop orgasms with or without a partner and never once get herself pregnant. A woman’s orgasm has literally nothing to do with pregnancy or fertility — her clitoris exists simply for pleasure, not for creating new humans. No matter how many orgasms she has, they won’t make her pregnant.

Pregnancies happen when men have an orgasm. Unwanted pregnancies happen when men orgasm irresponsibly.

A woman can be the sluttiest slut in the entire world, she can love having orgasms all day and all night long, and she will never find herself with an unwanted pregnancy unless a man shows up and ejaculates irresponsibly. Though our society tends to villainize female pleasure, women’s enjoyment of sex does not equal unwanted pregnancy and abortion. Men’s enjoyment of sex and irresponsible ejaculations do.

Let’s move to the topic of responsibility. Often, men don’t know, don’t ask, and don’t think to ask if they’ve caused a pregnancy. There are often zero consequences for men who cause unwanted pregnancies.

If the woman decides to have an abortion, the man may never even know he caused an unwanted pregnancy with his irresponsible ejaculation. If the woman decides to have the baby, or put the baby up for adoption, the man may never know he caused an unwanted pregnancy with his irresponsible ejaculation either. He may never know there’s now a child walking around with 50% of his DNA.

If the woman does tell him he caused an unwanted pregnancy and that she’s having the baby, the closest thing to a consequence for him is child support. Our current child support system is a well-known joke. Only about 61 percent of required payments by men are actually made, and there are little to no repercussions for skipping out. In some states, failing to pay child support doesn’t even affect your credit.

If a man does pay child support, it doesn’t come close to what is required by a woman in the case of an unwanted pregnancy.

Let’s talk about abortion. When the topic comes up, men might think: Abortion is horrible; women should not have abortions. Never once do they consider the man who caused the unwanted pregnancy.

If we’re discussing abortion law — and not how to hold men accountable for irresponsible ejaculations, and the unwanted pregnancies caused by them — we’re wasting our time. Shift the conversation. Stop protesting at clinics. Stop shaming women. Stop debating whether or not to overturn abortion laws. If you actually care about reducing or eliminating the number of abortions in our country, simply hold men accountable for their actions.

What would that look like? A real and immediate consequence for men who cause an unwanted pregnancy. What kind of consequence would make sense? Should it be as harsh, painful, nauseating, scarring, expensive, risky, and life-altering…

… as forcing a woman to go through a nine-month unwanted pregnancy?

If you consider abortion to be murder, consider this thought experiment: Would you be on board with having a handful of men castrated to prevent 600,000 murders each year? If this argument sounds too provocative, could it be that many of us have a hard time wrapping our heads around a physical punishment for men? We seem to be more than fine with physical punishments for women. Perhaps we care more about policing women’s bodies, morality, and sexuality than we do about reducing or eliminating abortions.

Here’s another prevention idea: All males in the U.S. could get a vasectomy when they are ready to be sexually active. Vasectomies are very safe, highly reversible, and about as invasive as a woman getting an IUD implanted. In most cases, there’s some soreness afterwards for about 24 hours, but that’s pretty much it for side effects. (Take a moment to remember that female contraception options, used by millions of women in our country and billions across the world, have well-known side effects which can be brutal and severe — and yes, also include soreness.) If and when a man becomes a responsible adult, finds a mate, and wants to have a baby, the vasectomy can be reversed and then redone once the childbearing stage is over. Each man can bank their sperm before the vasectomy, just in case.

Don’t like my ideas? That’s fine. I’m sure there are better ideas, and I challenge you to suggest your own. My point is we need to stop focusing on women if we’re trying to get rid of abortions. Think of abortion as the “cure” for an unwanted pregnancy. To stop abortions, we need to prevent the “disease” — meaning, the unwanted pregnancy itself. And the only way to do that is by focusing on men, because irresponsible ejaculations by men cause 100% of unwanted pregnancy.

If you’re a man, what would it take for you to never again ejaculate irresponsibly? A loss of money, rights, or freedoms? Physical pain? Ask yourselves: What would it take for you to value the life of your sexual partner more than your own temporary pleasure or convenience?

Men mostly run our government, and men mostly make our laws. In theory, men could eliminate — or drastically reduce — abortions within months without ever touching an abortion law or even mentioning women. They’d simply need to hold men accountable for irresponsible ejaculations, and legislate accordingly.

To reduce or eliminate abortions, stop attempting to control women’s bodies and sexuality. Because unwanted pregnancies are caused by men.

[tinymixtapes]

Live Blog: Morrissey

Morrissey Peabody Opera House; St. Louis [11-22-2017] by Adam Rothbarth on 12-15-2017 I‘m not going to start this review by proclaiming my love for Morrissey and The Smiths — caring about their music is something that can more or less be assumed of any 31-year-old music critic. If the music of Morrissey and The Smiths means a lot to you, then you have a pretty good idea of where I’m coming from. Recently, I went to see Morrissey at the Peabody Opera House in St. Louis. I’ve heard horror stories for years about Morrissey concerts — the cancelling, the despondency, the theatrics, the politics — but I’ve fantasized about seeing him for years, and when I heard he was coming to town, I made sure to seize the opportunity. I wish I hadn’t — it was probably the worst concert I’ve ever attended. The concert began at 8:30 PM with a series of punk, new wave, and Civil Rights-era music videos and speeches. Watching The Four Tops and The Ramones, I initially thought it was a neat idea to forgo an opening act in favor of a few videos that could grip and unite the audience in a unique way. Yet, as that project moved past the 30-minute marker, it began to lose its novelty (the t.A.T.u. cover of “How Soon Is Now” didn’t help), and I started to feel like I could be doing the same thing at home — never a good sign at a show. Portentous hints of bad mixing started seeping in, with the mids and highs being almost unbearably shrill during some videos. Naturally, I had forgotten to bring my earplugs, which I don’t always use, but like to have just in case; two hours later, with a torn-up napkin stuffed in my ears, I would vow to carry them with me every day for the rest of my life. Eventually, he came. His stage set-up wasn’t bad, a bare-bones, industrial club site with five supporting musicians and minimal props. But as the lights went down and the musicians powered up, it became apparent to me that something very bad was happening. Immediately, blinding lights and searing, aggressive strobes showered every inch of the venue with scalding waves of light. It became literally painful to look at the stage, as one of the permanently shining lights was aimed directly into my retinas, making me grateful for once to have a tall person seated in front of me. He was and remains an unknowing shield, a silent hero. Indeed, there is a light that never goes out — it’s part of Morrissey’s irresponsibly-handled scenography. You may witness its majesty in the photo above. As for the sound, it was absolutely deafening. Only seconds into his set, it became clear that this show was mixed for a Super Bowl halftime performance, not an opera house. The mids and highs became even more overpowering, blocking out the richness of Morrissey’s actual voice, which is literally the single reason that people go see a Morrissey concert. And rightly so — his voice is one of the most incredible instruments in the history of pop music. What a shame that it was so muddled, mixed directly into the center of a swampy explosion of electronics and guitars. I know Morrissey is not The Smiths and that no guitarist alive is Johnny Marr, but I nevertheless did find myself longing for the clarity, ingenuity, and joyous balance of their music. My life is peppered with abrasive rock, noise, and metal concerts, but Morrissey’s is probably the most aggressively loud show I’ve ever seen… and in the past month I’ve seen Swans and Bell Witch. I know it wasn’t the venue’s fault, because I’d previously seen Wilco and Sufjan Stevens there, and both shows were produced with the care and precision those artists deserve. That said, it certainly is the venue’s fault that its cheapest beer is a $9 bottle of Miller Lite, and it’s also its fault that the promise of the fourth-floor bar’s “Cash Only” sign was only fulfilled after a 20 minute search that involved no less than three employees having no idea where the machine was. Sure, my review is laced with truths that probably contributed to my experience: I’m getting old, my seats weren’t great, I forgot my earplugs, I didn’t bring cash. Somehow, I can’t imagine my experience having been any better if those things had gone down differently. Those four conditions have been true for numerous other concerts I’ve seen in the past few years, and many were still quite enjoyable. And for the record, I’m not the only Smiths-loving professional in town that has had a bad time seeing him. The setlist was OK. I want to say that it was cool to see him perform “How Soon Is Now,” but it wasn’t. The show was heavy on new songs, which is fine, but a number of them were prefaced by tepid, pseudo-political ramblings (“Free speech is dead!” and “I’m ashamed to be British!”). My friend and I chose to leave during “Meat Is Murder,” which was lackluster, and I later found out that we missed a (likely bemired) reading of “Shoplifters of the World Unite.” I’ve been to hundreds of concerts, but I’ve never left one because it was physically untenable for me to be there (I am a pretty tough guy when it comes to noise, light, and other caustic external conditions). It became very clear to me that night that a Morrissey concert seems to primarily exist for Morrissey, for him to bathe in adoration from fans, for him to reproduce his personality, for him to continue reliving the good old days. Throughout the night, I was painfully aware that I was simply there to enjoy the price of the ticket, to “see Morrissey,” and to “enjoy myself;” the flip side of this, of course, was seeing Morrissey enjoying a Morrissey concert. It’s true that both sides exist in all concerts, but the greatest performers always seem to obfuscate this dark essence, the cold, hard reality that the whole experience is just a function of the culture industry and its laws. Sure, there were people in the front row that got a handshake or a hug, and there were probably people on the ground floor that had a completely different audio-visual experience; sadly, it’s not my job to review the show from their point of view. If I hadn’t been in that seat, somebody else would have been. When more attention seems to be given to PETA kiosks, half-baked political one-liners, and overwhelming light shows than the comfort of the audience, it will likely always result in something less than grand for some who attend. When all was said and done that night, there was something deeply poetic about my friend’s invocation of the lyric, “Heaven knows I’m miserable now” as we headed to the stairwell mid-concert to leave, the sacred describing the profane. http://j.mp/2zee5Td