#god i hate the camera angles but this line was so fucking funny

[very-straight-blog]

This might sound funny and cringey, but I feel like I lost something I cared about and now it's just sadness and depression. Like it's a TV show, I get it, but we waited 2 years and for what? To get the two worst episodes imaginable. I'm really starting to believe that Sapochnik was responsible for everything good in s1, bcz Condal and Hess ruined this show. S1 wasn't perfect and I didn't like a lot of things in it, but it still managed to keep me invested so I hoped that in s2 everything would be improved. And yet, I'm so terribly disappointed. Alicent's characterization makes no sense anymore, like they want so badly to show her as a bad mother and a hypocrite and really - after ruining bnc with Alicole sex now it had to follow with her not being able to console her son but hoping on Criston is a must do?? What sort of degenerates write this??

Aemond is also ruined for me and I would love to erase that crappy brothel scene from my memory. What was it for? To show his mommy issues, vulnerability... Idc. The dialogue was bad and they did him dirty with the angles and the pose. And now he's apparently going to be there *again* in e3 and we'll get full frontal nudity. Idk why the actor agreed to this since they are obviously making a joke and meme material of his character. Not to mention that he straight up lied in the promos about being loyal (if the RR leaks are true and I'm almost 100% sure they are). I get that they are told what to say, but a more general answer would have been much better than a lie. In brief, one of my favourite s1 characters is also destroyed.

Then Cole. My god, I only waithig for him to look at the camera and say "do you hate me enough already hahah?" He's the writers punching bag atp.

Helaena barely exists.

Otto is Viserys' fanboy and ofc, appalled by his grandson. It's not as he just has lost a son and was forced to take the crown in the first place by him and his mother, no less.

Aegon got more screentime and I love Tom's performance, but I'm not fooled. He is still depicted as weak, politically inept and rash. And he'll still be a bully, apparently. Just to justify his brother's treason. F*ck you Condal, Hess and whoever else is responsible for this mess.

Anyway, sorry for the rant. I just don't get how anyone can seriously praise this shitshow anymore. It could have been great, but the creators are obviously not up to the task which is now painfully obvious. I wouldn't mind the greens as villains, but don't write them as a walking joke. I'm quitting the show and would like just to forget about it. This adaptation of the Dance was a huge mistake.

I feel you! By the way, I haven't participated in any fandom life, I think, for 10 years or more, but thanks to HOTD, I started this blog, I write some critical (well, kinda) reviews, and English isn't even my native language. I've been waiting for the second season for two years and now I just feel tired and empty. So far, the only thing I've liked about these two episodes is Aegon's storyline, that's all. Everything else is bad, very bad, and judging by the leaks, it'll be even worse.

Firstly, the series has a very strange pace of the narrative. We didn't get a bunch of important plot scenes, and even those that remained were shown in a hurry, but at the same time we have many scenes like "Rhaenyra stares at the dust for three minutes", unnecessary dialogues and PAUSES between lines.

Secondly, again, an insane amount of important plot details are left behind the scenes and this is absolutely wrong. Aemond's return home, the family's reaction to what he did. Aegon's reaction when he learned of his son's death. Aemond's reaction when he finds out what his actions have led to. And so on and so forth. Many of the characters' actions are shown without context. Alicent fucks with Criston - cool, but can I have some additional information? How long has this been going on, what feelings do they have for each other, how have they developed, like, anything? The same can be said about the scene in the brothel - no context.

Thirdly, it's unclear what's going on with the characters, as if the screenwriters decided to make the greens the most unpleasant people in the world. So far, I only like Aegon and Helaena. I can't even say anything about Aemond, because his only dialogue scene is built around Daemon and Luke, damn them. I just can't.

Everything annoys me except Aegon lol. So yes, I understand you.

[ac3id]

Plaything | 18+

plaything 0/ ?? | part 1

pairings: yandere! bully bakugou katsuki x fem! reader

warnings: [series] blackmail, bullying, dubcon/ noncon, filming w/o consent, yandere themes, no quirks au. ALL CHARACTERS ARE ABOVE 18 YEARS OF AGE.

↪ for chapter 0: dubcon, blackmail, humiliation.

summary: by luck, you get enrolled into u.a high the best school in your town. the only catch is that the school is filled with rich, spoilt, and powerful brats who just seem to hate you, and among them, a certain red-eyed blonde dreads you the most

↪ for chapter 0: you reject bakugou’s proposal to fuck in the dirty boys' washroom so he teaches you a lesson.

— navigation

wordcount. 2k+

a/n: hello !! so this is like a little introduction to my yandere! bully! bakugou series fic. there’s also going to a lot of other bnha character mentions but the main pairing will be w/ baku n reader. enjoy!

“bakugou, i don’t want to do this,” your voice is weak as you bite on your lower lip, trying to stop sinful moans from leaking out of your mouth. bakugo has you bent over the cold and wet sink counter, your chest pressed against the dirty marble while your skirt is flipped over your displaying your bare, perky round ass to his stalking eyes. “who are you calling bakugo?” he spanks your ass with force, making you lose your footing as your head bumps lightly against the mirror.

“sorry, master,” you answer barely above a whisper but it’s loud enough in the empty washroom for him to hear yet he makes you repeat yourself,

“what was that, brat? i couldn’t fucking hear you.” he spanks you again, his heavy hand coming in contact with your soft ass with ferocity sending you flying off your feet.

“i am sorry, master!” you exclaim a little loudly, hoping it would satisfy him. and it does. he scoffs crudely, ghosting his fingers over your pussy lips before dipping his large fingers between them and petting your dry hole. he plays with your cunt, stroking his fingers lovingly over your little pearl, gathering wetness as he slips one finger into your hole. pumping them in and out at a slow pace. he takes his time, building up your orgasm while laughing wickedly as you try to hold in your moans. his fingers inside your cunt increase their pace as your juices start dripping down to your thighs,

“you said you don’t want this?” while his right hand destroys your cunt, his other hand wraps around your small neck. grasping it lightly, making it harder for you to breathe. “why are you dripping everywhere like a slut? hm?”

he had pulled you aside from regular classes, declaring them boring as fuck and that he wanted to do something much better like; fucking you in the boys' washroom. you denied, you told him no. you wanted to attend the lesson and besides skipping with him wouldn’t be any good to you. he was not kind to you, he was a meanie. he still insisted; telling you it’s fine, he knows the material. he can just tutor you later. no harm done, see? see?

if there was anything you hated more than being stuck in the prestigious u.a. high where everyone seemed to be out for your blood was spending time with bakugo katsuki. and being with him alone was another nightmare. he hated you. you didn’t know why, he’d never say why. you just assumed it was because of that one time you accidentally spilled coffee on him or maybe it was just because you breathed. honestly, both seemed favorable in this situation.

after many failed attempts of convincing you to come with him, he gets fed up. he pulls out his phone and shoves it into your face. his screen displays pictures of you which he had taken before and the ones which you had sent him. they are all lewd shots. pictures of you sucking him off while looking into the camera with glassy eyes illuminated the screen and as you swiped right it changed to another with the same background, lighting, and angle but the only difference being that your face was now covered with his seed while you posed for the camera with an innocent smile.

a look deeper into his gallery and you find your nudes which bakugo had forced you to take. it was necessary for you to be naked with your tits and ass being visible, he also wanted to see your face and would never settle for anything else. he never settles for anything without your face in it, makes you take those shots again and again until he’s satisfied with the results. he saves them, all of them. even the ‘bad ones' have been screenshotted and saved onto his phone for his personal use. he never tells what he uses them for but you don’t need to hear it from him. you already know he’s jerking off to each one of them every night before he goes to sleep.

it’s funny, anyone could take a look at those pictures and find out they are not photos exchanged between lovers. your expressions- no matter how hard you try, you always end up looking like you want to cry. there’s fear in your eyes and it just doesn’t feel authentic. it looks forced. like someone had put a gun to your head while you sat and took them. and well, that’s not a far-fetched idea.

he promises these are for his eyes only, “no one else gets to you like this. you are mine.” his words exactly but when his friends also start staring at you with lust-ridden eyes, you can’t help but question his words.

he blackmails you into coming with him. threatening he’d leak those pictures all around the school if you didn’t come with him as if he hadn’t already. as if your compromising photos weren’t already saved in all of your classmates’ phones anyway. bakugo should give himself a pat on the back, he’s such a great actor!

“for someone who doesn’t want this,” his demeaning, rude voice pulls you back from the dreamland you were trying to escape to. he forces you nearer to your edge, tiny whimpers leave your lips accompanied with loud moans as his fingers brush deliciously against your sweet spot. your precious cunt greedily pulls him in deeper and deeper, inviting him graciously into your womb but unfortunately, his fingers aren’t that long. but you know what is?

“you sure are dripping like a whore.” with every whimper which leaves your supple lips, bakugo feels himself get harder. his pants tighten as a bulge starts straining against his expensive, pleated bottoms. the hand prettily choking your neck detaches itself leaving you inhaling puffs of air as he works his pants off his hips. as you hear the rattling of his belt coming undone, a loud cry enough to draw attention from others outside of the room leaves your throat.

it catches bakugo off guard but nonetheless helps him get even harder, he likes to make you cry and get off to it. “why are you crying, bitch? it’s not doing you any favors here.” his fingers rub against your swollen, little pearl while lining up his fat cock to your blinking hole. “please, bakugo, don’t. i will do anything, anything else. just not this, i’ve never done this before.” you sound pathetic. your voice breaking with every word you utter. big, fat tears rolling down your cheeks while you ugly cried. bakugo almost feels sorry.

but in all honesty, he really couldn't care less about you. all your whining and crying only incite him further as ruthless ideas to break you down flood his mind. the kindest so far being him taking you right here and now but, but a sudden flash of seeing you utterly broken and in misery flashed before his eyes and he couldn’t let go of it. he wanted to see you tremble much more than you were right now. he wanted to see you cry much more than you were crying right now. Maybe he did hate you, he always pushed you around like you were his little pet of some sort to prove a point- that he is better than you. he is superior, you must respect him. you should kiss the ground he walks on, you should let yourself be his little plaything. then maybe, he’ll let you loose? who knows, he might just get even more obsessed.

as he watches you cry beneath him, your pathetic whimpers reverberating off the marble walls, a wicked idea pops into his head. he pulls his dick away from your exposed hole instead, replacing it with his fingers like before. “fine, brat.” his voice is softer, it surprises you. was he not going to rape you after all? “just because you said anything.” there it is again, the edge in his voice that makes you regret what you said. now, you know he has something worse planned for you. but it’s too late, you can’t go against your word now. you said anything, get ready to do anything. “stop squirming, i’m trying to make you cum. god knows whether you can even do that for yourself.” you most definitely can.

"a bitch like you needs someone to do everything for her.” again, you are probably the most independent student in the whole school,

“am I right, princess?” you are so wrong. “yes, master.”

no matter how crude and humiliating his words were and how much you hated his voice, you still found yourself clenching around his fingers almost ripping them off. your cunt squeezed his digits tightly as the coil building in your stomach tightened. moans of his name echoed all over the room as you felt yourself come closer. bakugo was taking his time playing with you, drawing you out making your release painfully slow as a form of revenge. you begged for him to play with your little clit so you could achieve ecstasy but he was too petty. after minutes of agonizing you to the point, there were tears streaming down your face and drool escaping your lips, falling onto the wet counter. he finally decided to flick his finger against your hardened bud. rubbing tight circles, he played with it aimlessly until he felt the gush of wetness around his fingers and the high-pitched scream which left your mouth as you came. his other hand pumped his still-hard cock. he was still pissed that he wouldn’t be able to cum inside you but it was fine for now. he had something much brutal set up in his mind for his plaything, he was aware that what he was planning might completely destroy but he figured it was worth it. much better to have a mindless slave who lives to fulfill her master’s wishes anyway.

he lets go of you, backing away with his hard cock still out and aching for relief. the huge head blushed red and leaking with pre, too bad he won’t get to finish inside of you yet. you quickly walk away from him, bending forward to search for your discarded panties. bakugo grunts at the sight of your wet pussy presenting itself to him, riling him up even more than he already was. He wastes no time pumping his cock at the sight of your exposed bottom, gasp and groans of pleasure escaping his lips,

“oi, what the fuck are you doing?” he asks, catching you sliding your panties on your legs. you turn around to face him, face burning when you are met with him stroking his cock at your movements. your eyes almost can’t leave the sight of his leaking cock, hard and begging to be played with and as much as you to admit it; it lights a fire inside you.

“stop fucking staring, you’re making it worse,” he growls and you immediately turn your eyes to his face. he smirks, “what? do you want it now? too bad, it’s too late,” he taunts. his eyes trail your body, eyebrows furrowing when he looks down your legs. “who told you to wear them,” he points at your panties between your legs. you give him a confused look, “you’re not allowed to put them on. give them to me,” he commands and panic crosses your eyes. you hesitate for a moment, debating whether you should listen to him or not. his fists clench as he glares at you, sending shivers down your spine, “what are looking at! give!” he speaks louder this time in a demanding tone as if he was scolding a little child who had picked up something from his office. your fingers tremble as you reach out to give the pink fabric to him, “leave.” what? you look at him in confusion. your big, doe eyes racking fear and anxiety. you wait for him to laugh or make a sarcastic remark about how gullible you are but it never comes. instead, he wraps your cotton panties around his cock, right in front of you, and begins jerking himself off. you are disgusted and petrified by his shameless actions, “what are you standing here for? leave. remember you said anything?” yeah, so you did. and you regret it already.

your legs tremble as you walk towards the door, pushing it open and peaking your head to check for people in the hallway. once you find it empty you walk out to the outside before sparing one last glance inside the dirty washroom. you hope for bakugo to call out to you, call you back but all you see is him cumming thick ropes into your panties while his eyes are screwed shut in ecstasy. yeah, you weren’t getting those back.

with shame and defeat written all over your face, you make your back to your classroom. your face is heated with embarrassment and humiliation as you remember you are walking around practically naked just an accident away from flashing yourself to anyone who cares to see. for the better half of the day, you walk around tugging your skirt as low as it can get. you don’t see bakugo for the rest of the day as he leaves you alone but when you do catch his eyes for a second or two, the wicked grin stretching over his features is hard to miss. He knows exactly what he is doing.

just as the day is about to end, he walks behind you squeezing your bare ass from under your skirt managing a surprised shriek from you when you feel his warm palms caress your ass pervertedly, “cute.” he whispers in your ear before turning you around and pinning you the wall. his fingers slide up your thighs moving closer to your cunt. warm digits graze over your slit earning a gasp from you, “come over, I will tutor you on the subjects you missed.” he kisses your neck, “come just like this.” he spanks your ass lightly before he leaves you be. his words are absolute and you know better than to disobey him, all of this was happening because you disobeyed him. you gather your things and walk up to his dorm room dressed just as you were before: in your school shirt, blazer, skirt, and no panties just as he wants it. when you arrive in his room you are met with his entire friend group sitting there with their books and pencils out. kaminari, kirishima and sero are not as surprised to see you as you are to see them. they greet you with happy faces which you return with a light smile.

“hey,” bakugo says with a smirk, guiding you to sit between sero and kirishima. between them the two humongous men, you feel like a child. with kirishima being tall and muscular and Sero being tall, lean and surprisingly packing a few too, makes you feel like a dwarf. you feel small and tiny in their presence and they very much notice it, sending knowing looks to one another while bakugo tries to tutor you. you know something’s up.

not a lot of studying takes place as kirishima grows impatient and slides his hand under your skirt and settles it over your cunt, rubbing his fingers on your pussy lips, occasionally pressing them on your clit. sero flips your skirt displaying your naked cunt to peering eyes. kaminari whistles, “wow, she really wasn’t wearing anything the entire day,” he comments. with one hand, Kirishima captures your wrists behind your back and pushes you on his lap. sero holds your legs to prevent you from squirming around like a dead fish, trying to break free. “so who goes first?” kaminari asks, walking over to you and crouching at your level. kirishima holds tightly with him seated on bakugo’s bed, kaminari flashes you a charming smile before his fingers run to unbutton your t-shirt, pulling your tits out of your bra. he tugs on one of your nipples while kishima’s large digits tugs on another.

“obviously me, dumbass.” bakugo barks coming closer to you. tears prick at your eyes as you beg him to stop, you tell him you’re sorry and that you will never disobey him ever again but he’s too far gone. the other men in the room might feel a little shitty about what they were going to do but there is no remorse in bakugo’s eyes. he looks at you like a predator looks at his prey, stalking about to pounce at any given second, “shut up, whore. you asked for this.” tears break loose as kirishima starts spreading your legs on command. wandering fingers rubbing at your pussy, trying to get you ready are forced to stop as bakugo declares that it must hurt for you. he wouldn’t have it any other way.

“you know you should have never said no to me right? be grateful for what’s being given to you, you’re our little plaything. a cute, little slut. you don’t get to say no,” his rough fingers grab at your jaw, prying it open as he spits in your mouth. “now just shut up and take our cocks, okay?” you cry out yes but he’s not satisfied. His hand strikes against your face, your cheek stings with burning hot pain as more tears leak out of your eyes. grabbing your face harshly, he lifts it up so you’re facing him, “okay?” he repeats. you calm your breath before answering him, fear and anxiety fucking you up in dread for what’s to come.

“yes, master,” you say in the most submissive voice you make out.

[internalsealpanic]

Respectful Cannibalism

Summary:  Watching mystery movie with a bunch of detective was a bad idea

A/n: While this is part 3 to my Space Case series, you’re not required to read Art Gallery Smile or Cosmonauts to understand the context to this. The only note I do have is that Dick and Steph are friends with Reader much to Tim’s everlasting horror.  Special thanks to @littleredwing89 and @glorified-red for proof reading this mess.

Warnings: Tooth rotting fluff and a confusing amount of batkids in one scene.

Main Masterlist

Tim Drake Masterlist

Tim coughs, loud and ragged into the speaker. You find yourself wincing at the phone tucked against your ear. Tim sounds like he’s dying or, at the very least, he’s on his way there. 

“I’m so-”

“Fucking tired of saying sorry that you decided to go skinny dipping in Gotham Harbor? Yeah. Great, I’m sick of hearing it too. Glad, we’re on the same page, Space Cadet.” You exasperate, pulling on your jeans violently enough for Tim to hear the angry shuffling of fabric. 

“Skinny dipping?” Tim huffs, a fond smile playing on his lips as he drinks in the timber of your voice. Even when you were absolutely exasperated, your voice was still soothing or maybe he just misses your company. God, he’s such a sap. 

You shake your head in disbelief. That was his take away? “Yes, Timmy, Buck-ass skinny dipping,” you laugh, coming out derisive and sharp. Tim groans this time filled with guilt. The first few sounds of another ‘I’m sorry’ form in the back of his throat as he runs his hand through his bed head. For once, you’re thankful that you’re nowhere near Tim because you are one apology away from decking him and you’re pretty sure that that’s a terrible thing to do to a sick person, especially one with no brain cells to spare. 

“I- You were really looking forward to this (Y/n), don’t try to deny it.” You weren’t going to. He was right. You were looking forward to this date. You were impossibly, unreasonably giddy over the prospect of going to the planetarium with Tim this afternoon. WITH Tim. Sure, you’re pretty down about it but you were the tiniest bit more  concerned about the fact that your boyfriend had water in his lungs and almost died of hypothermia for a hot second. You pinch the bridge of your nose, hoping that worry and murder radiate off of you in equal measure.  “I was also looking forward to my letter from Hogwarts,” you sneer, pausing dramatically to look at your watch, “and it’s been roughly a decade.”  You hear Tim swallow and the hairs on your neck bristle in petty satisfaction. 

Tim chortles, a lively sound that startles you, then coughs but the sound comes out somehow sounding doubtful and teasing. Embarrassment flares up in you. “You were too!” you protest, hackles drawn to full height. A short breathy laugh leaves Tim and you feel the flush on your face ease into something softer and more rounded. All the sharpness in your veins dissipates as the flash of fondness for that stupid laugh takes over. You can imagine him warm under the covers smiling at the phone at your blunder. “Please, (y/n), my hopes were dashed when I was 4  and still not in the Jedi order.”

“Bullshit, you were never a child,”  you snort, sharpening the grin on your face into something vicious. “I refuse to believe you were ever a child! You probably sprang out of a textbook fully formed- Wait, I’m getting off-topic. ” Tim hums innocently and you narrow your eyes at the phone, hoping he can feel the ‘I am revoking your breathing privileges’ look.  “You always are.” Tim says before falling into a coughing fit. 

“Sorry, Cosmo, I just keep getting lost in your eyes,”  you whisper, pitching your voice rich and caramel smooth. There’s a sound on the other line. Tim is babbling you realize. You hear a shuffle of fabric and a body rising. Tim sucks in a breath, red-faced and caught off guard by the sudden shift in tone. He can practically see the cocky grin playing on your face, the light of the sun reflecting as golden flecks in your eyes.  “You can’t even see them!” Tim stammers, glowering at you through the phone. You cackle at him as if sensing the venomous look he’s giving you. “You can barely open them!” Tim rolls his, very much, open eyes, falling back into an unnecessarily large pile of pillows that Alfred insisted was necessary for bed rest with a loud ‘fwoof’. “Yes, I can,” Tim mumbles, sounding young for once. You do your level best to smother a grin on your face. “I’m just really drowsy from the chamomile tea Alfie gave me.” You stop dead in your tracks, one hand half in your coat the other on the doorknob. You blink. “You’re at the Manor?”

Tim pauses, making a frustrated noise. He shouldn’t have said that.  “Dick and B… insisted.” This draws another one of your sharp laughs. He says insisted as if it was ever negotiable. “Did they ‘insist’ before or after they blow-dried and hung you out to dry?” Tim squawks and you hear shuffling again. Tim tries to remember why he doesn’t hate you. “Tell me again how you found out about me getting sick? Steph? Cass?”

“Hmmmmmm, Dick.”

“THAT TRAITOR”

“Funny way to pronounce older brother,” you hum smug. You can feel Tim glaring daggers at you. “You-”

“There’s a home theater, yeah?” 

Tim pauses, this time longer. “I don’t like where this is going.”

“Answer the question, Space Case.”

He sighs. “Yes.”

“Great! It’s a date then,” you say, mentally preparing a route to the Manor from the vague directions Steph told you once. You could just use the maps app- 

“NO!” You freeze. Tim flinches at the volume of his own voice. He  whispers an indiscernible  ‘I’m sorry’. You turn it over in your mind before speaking. “No?” You ask, trying your best to sound hurt instead of amused. Maybe you should have pitched your voice higher, more shaky. “Look, Tim, I-” Tim heaves a loud sigh. “-(Y/n), you’re fine-” Well, you aren’t, you think. You bite your tongue, physically to make sure you don’t say anything unnecessary. “-It’s got nothing to do with you. It’s- It’s just my siblings...” Tim knows that his siblings have been talking about you.  

“Timmy, I can take whatever shovel talk they can give me,” you say with the confidence of someone who has never been dangled over the edge of a roof top. Ok, to be fair, YOU had nothing to worry about. Tim, on the other hand, was going to get roasted alive. Maybe he can persuade you into not- Tim hears the tell tale sputtering of your bike’s engine and he feels his blood pressure spike. The engine genuinely sounds like a death rattle. 

“You’ll get sick.”

You swear and he hears another sputter of the engine. “You’ll get sick,” he croaks again, louder this time hopefully over the dying engine. Maybe if your engine dies right now, he’ll be spared from a slow agonizing death via siblings. “Relax Cosmo, I have the strongest ward against whatever you got,” you say, giving the engine a light kick. Tim hears a few metallic clunks then the engine stutters to life. Tim looks up past the ceiling trying to glare at whatever cosmic being resurrected your engine. 

“Which is...”

“Being broke. It does wonders for your health.”

“Yeah, I don’t think that’s how it works,” Tim says, shifting burying his head against the too soft pillows. The soft fabric makes his eyes feel heavy. He yawns. He hears the sputter or your laugh. It’s hard to tell from the sudden drowsiness making his head swim. 

“I promise I’ll explain to your typical rich kid ass when I get there, Tim.”

“That’s not how it works,” Tim slurs, face pressed into a pillow. 

You laugh, he’s sure this time. 

“I’m-” Tim’s mind unfocuses and the words you say garble together ”-Tim. ”

Tim blinks, mouth moving to ask you to repeat that but the last thing he hears is a soft click. 

On the bright side, it would just be him and Alfred at the manor.

_________________________________________________________

Batmanisfake: I heard (y/n)'s coming over😶

Nightwingingit:👀 How do you even know that?

Batmanisfake: What are you? A cop?

Nightwingingit: say that again but slowly 🙄

Batmanisfake: ...

Damian: He bugged Drake's phone. For blackmail purposes, of course. 

Nightwingingit: JASON

The Cool One: Shush Dick! He's onto something

Batmanisfake: Thank you 

The Adult: I for once had nothing to do with it😌

Theactualbatman: I'm assuming we're all coming home tonight?

The Cool One: I'll bring popcorn

Damian: Nonsense Pennyworth will likely have some prepared

The Cool One:😭 We really do not deserve that man

Nightwingingit: Definitely

thesaneone: We're recording Tim's face when he sees us, right? 

Batmanisfake: From all angles

The Adult: You're all horrible

Batmanisfake: Please like you're not hacking into the cameras as we speak, Babs

The Adult: You have no proof👀

_________________________________________________________

Tim’s head felt thick and gooey like one of Alfred’s custards. He feels like he’s floating, like he’s in a fish tank. There’s a sickly Chlorine smell clogging his nostrils; it smells powdery and sterile and reminds him vaguely of aspirin. Tim blinks. His eyes hurt; they feel puffy and sore and hot. His vision is further obscured by a thick layer of fleece blankets Alfred had piled high over him. He shuts his eyes still feeling too overwhelmed by the low light coming from the window.

Tim thinks he hears his window open with a soft click. Tim quiets his breathing. His hearing is too muddled to process anything beyond it.  There’s a soft thud of heavy boots in the room; it’s imperceptible and dreamlike the way it reaches his ears that it has him shifting under the covers trying his best to discern the sound. A dozen lighter footsteps follow it and he can sense 6 shapeless bodies hovering over him.

“Should we wake him up?” asks a voice that vaguely sounds like Cass. 

There’s a shuffling sound. Leather, he thinks. “Wait, lemme take a picture.”

“Red, why? It’s not like you can blackmail him with pictures of him sleeping.”

“Because, flashlight, I need proof that Timbo sleeps. ”

“Because?”

“Ok, how many times have you seen him asleep?” 

“Uh...”

“Exactly!”

Tim hears a laugh that distinctly sounds like Dick. “Does it count if Alfie drugged him?”

“Maybe?” Steph says, shrugging. 

“It doesn’t, Brown.”

“Damn it.”

“Does that mean B doesn’t sleep?”

“Nope.”

Maybe if Tim keeps sleeping, they’ll go away on their own. Tim wraps the sheets tightly around himself, hoping the large stack  of fleece would be enough to muffle his siblings. 

“I’m pretty sure I have dibs on waking him for opening the window for you shits.”

“Red, anyone could have opened that,” Duke laughs, stepping slightly behind Cass, who at the moment was paying more attention to the moving pile of fabric. Maybe if Tim stays really still she’ll turn her attention to something else. 

“Cass and Dickface would have just broken it.‘

“I would not!”

“Sorry, Cass, you would.”

“Steph, whose side are you on?”

“Why is no one defending me?” Dick sighs. 

“No one cares, Dickface. And Blondie’s clearly playing for the right team-” Steph cackles. “-none of you have any finesse.”

“Not all of us can be drama queens, Todd.”

“You’re like the third to the last person I wanna hear this from.”

“Third? You’re ranking us now? Who gave you the right?”

“Alfred,” Jason deadpans, “And yeah. Bruce and Dick are first and second.”

“Hey!”

“Can it Mr. Pretty Man Down.”

“That was one-”

“What rank am I?”

“uh … fifth.”

“Fifth?!”

“Sorry, Blondie, Cass has you beat with that ballet kick thingy.”

“Ok, yeah I can accept that. What about Babs?”

“What about Babs? The woman can kick my ass six ways to Sunday. ”

Tim’s head throbs all over. There are soft pin pricks pressing on the sole of his left foot; his leg jerks involuntarily. He wants to scream. Tim swears under his breath. A gloved hand pries the covers away from Tim’s face. Tim squints his eyes open only to be greeted by Dick’s kind, but still very punchable, face. Tim takes a long rasp, pinching his features in a mix of annoyance and despair. “Why are you-” Cough! “-here?”

There’s a slight quirk to Dick’s smile.“They wanted to meet (y/n),” Dick explains in a sweeping theatrical motion of his hand across the room directing Tim’s attention to the expressions on his sibling’s expressions which were all a variation of devious scheming. 

“How did-” cough. “- you even know-” cough. “-(y/n) was coming?” Tim asks, shooting up from his pile of pillows causing a couple of blankets to topple to the floor to the ground. Tim’s lightheaded.  He suddenly feels a shift in his balance, a feeling of vertigo.   He nearly topples to the ground, his blood not quite catching up to his movements, when feels hands wrap around his shoulders. “Woah there Baby Bird, slowdown.”

“Answer-” Cough!

“It was Todd.”

“You mutant sperm!”

“Jay, aren’t we all mutant sperm?” Steph laughs, slinging one arm over an irate Damian’s shoulders and another over a fuming Jason’s shoulders. Tim groans, sounding pained. “How much do I need to pay each of you to get all of you to go away?”

“A lifetime of IOUs,” Dick says, casually. 

“NO!”

“All of your share in W.E.,” Duke says, laughing. Steph elbows him lightly, also laughing. “You’re shooting prelow there, Slick,” Steph teases. Duke shrugs still grinning. “Gotta  keep it realistic, yanno?”  Steph and Duke keep bickering. 

“Drake, kindly, pay with your life.”

Tim scrunches his nose. “I’m already on my deathbed, you know, dying. What else do you want from me?”

“A more agonizing death.”

Jason grins, tilting his chin. “C’mon, Timbo, we can help with your little impromptu date.” Tim groans, placing his face in his hands. “Please just help me dig my own grave.”

“What would be the fun in that, Timbo?”

“For you or for me?”

“Come on, Tim, it’ll be fine,” Cass says,  clearly not believing the words herself. All seven of them dissolve into another round bickering. Damian, Jason, and Steph hellbent on giving Tim an aneurysm.  Duke and Cass playing at being neutral; Duke leaning on Tim’s side but laughing way too hard at Steph’s well placed jabs; Cass is only mildly siding with Tim to spite Jason. Why this time? Tim has no clue. 

The string of banter is broken up by the echoing the doorbell. Tim’s heart seizes as they all fall silent, enraptured by the odd sound of a doorbell filling the hallowed halls of Wayne Manor. The chiming of bells ends with the creaking of the large oak doors in the front of the manor. 

Before Tim’s sluggish brain could even formulate a thought, all of his siblings are all bounding towards the door, bouncing off the walls and flipping over obstacles. Tim scrambles, lagging, after the hoard of vigilantes barrelling towards you. Tim tries to shout after his siblings but his voice is drowned out by raucous laughter and bickering. 

You stand at the door, head haloed by the pale afternoon light as the sky catches fire, flecks of snow sparkling in your hair. You tuck a strand of your hair behind your ear as you sheepishly thank Alfred as he takes your coat.  

Tim struggles to breathe an he genuinely doesn’t know if it’s because of his lungs, you, or the fact that of all his siblings, Babs was the one who got there first and Tim genuinely doesn’t know if Babs is there to hold off the gaggle of vigilantes or to scare you off. From the jovial grin wrinkling your features, Tim’s pretty sure Babs just gave you some blackmail material instead of putting you through the ringer- an equally scary outcome. For your part, you don’t look even slightly phased by the fact that Babs is in a wheelchair or even by the way she’s clearly sizing you up. All of this rolls off of you with an easy motion of your shoulders as you answer her questions in the most frustratingly oblique way based off of Babs’s expression. Tim can’t help the curve on his lip as you blatantly dodge another of Babs’s questions with a smile. You spot him, winking, and the tips of Tim’s ears flush. 

Your cocky demeanor fades when a gaggle of batbrats crowd you; nervousness creeps into your form, ironing out your posture into something unnatural and defensive. “Is this a bad time?” You ask through a tight lipped smile. Babs glares at them but doesn’t make any effort to hide the satisfaction at your shaken demeanor. “Don’t mind them, Sweetie,” Babs says, patting your back and guiding you away from the gaggle. You shuffle awkwardly, trying to coax your spine back into a more natural curve. 

“(Y/n)!” Tim manages between gasps for air. Making a person with non functioning lungs run has to be some sort of human rights violation. His voice is  louder than he anticipated. He realizes, but the apprehension in his body flits away when you beam at him-a  wide cheeky smile that has his body vibrating with delight. He made you smile like that, Tim thinks, heart swelling almost enough to soften the impact of the next few words. “Hey, Duckie!” you chirp tilting your face in a cute lopsided smile. 

“Duckie?” Jason sniggers. 

Duke’s face passess from confusion, realization, then amusement in a matter of three seconds.“Duckie? As in ‘quack quack’?” Duke asks, pretending to still be dumbstruck. 

“Yes, Duckie, Tommy Terrific,” you say, the lopsided smile curving into a playful grin. The dumb nicknames earn you a loud, surprisingly nonthreatening, approving laugh from Jason who then says “We’ll keep those nicknames in mind” which just drags pained looks from both Tim and Duke. Dick and Damian on the other hand look absolutely delighted. 

“(Y/n), tell them about the other nicknames,” Steph says, grinning savagely. Your eyes widen and you wrinkle your nose, mouth twitching from side to side, trying to pretend away the heat rising from your cheeks. “Not on your life, Stephie.”

“Aaaaaw! Not even for lil ol’ me?” Dick pouts, throwing his arms around you. The familiarity of the action has Tim bristling. “Pleeeeeaaase,” Dick whines; a smile hidden in your hair, “not even for Alfred’s cookies?” You make a noise caught between a laugh and a groan. “Hmmmm… maybe? Throw in some candy.”

“Deal.”

Tim blinks. “You’d betray me for sugar?” 

“Cus I ain’t getting any while you’re sick,” you cackle, grinning along with Dick who looks way too pleased with the outcome of the conversation.  Tim desperately wants to melt into the floor. Looking at all his siblings who are eagerly awaiting for the litany of nicknames, Tim cuts in. “Let’s just go watch that film.”

“What are we watching?” Cass asks, leaning to look over your shoulder, clearly shoving Dick out of the way. Dick does his best to not budge. 

“What do you mean ‘we’?”

“We are under a communist regime, Timbo. We’re all watching it together,” Jason says, slinging Tim over his shoulder. 

“Have a heart, Drake. We only want to spend family time together,” Damian says, somehow still looking imperious even from where Tim is dangling. A dull ache starts spreading across Tim’s like his skull is being squeezed. 

“Hope you guys like Clue,” you say, fishing it out of your cornucopia of unhealthy junk food. “I figured you detectives would like a good mystery.” Dick snorts taking the disc from you and reading over the contents efficiently. “Bet you I can get the ending even before any of you.”

“No, you won’t,” Jason barks, setting off a long winded argument about who the best detective is. 

“Didn’t you say you would eat me if I spoiled another mystery movie for you? Are you planning to eat my entire family?” Tim croaks quietly. You scrunch your nose, twitching your mouth four times to the left and four and a half times to the right.  “Technically, what I said was ‘I’ll respectfully go back to juvie for cannibalism if you spoil another movie that night’,” you hiss low, trying not to draw attention to your conversation. Unfortunately for you, his siblings have good hearing.  

“And this is different how?” Tim asks, this time not bothering to control his volume. 

“You’ll never figure out the ending,” You say smiling innocently. Tim rolls his eyes and huffs a ‘we’ll see’. It doesn’t wipe the smile off of your face. 

As it turns out, the Wayne Manor theater is less of a theater and more of a bean bag storage closet with a large screen. Jason tosses Tim unceremoniously into one of the random bean bags in front of the couch before gracefully pirouetting into the couch. You chuckle and continue your search for something to put your Bluray in, just now realizing that you should have probably just asked for their Netflix password or something. Alfred appears out of nowhere handing Jason and Cass each a bowl of buttery popcorn and scolding Jason about manhandling his brother in front of  a guest. Jason looks unrepentant. No surprises there. With a swat on  the back of Jason’s head, Alfred turns to you, gloved hands extended out to you.  “I can take that."

“Oh… Uh thanks- Thank you,” you stammer. To your left, Tim snickers and your hand slip, somehow the blanket Babs handed you finds its way to Tim’s face. “Shut up, Ducktective. He’s practically your grandpa and I kinda wanna make a good impression,” you hiss, cheeks warming. Tim coughs, a little dumbfounded. Somehow it hadn’t occurred to him that you were nervous about this. 

Tim checks if his brain is on straight before speaking. “Relax, you haven’t physically assaulted me or any of my family yet so you’re immediately at the top of Alfie’s list.” You open your mouth to speak then curl it into a frown, looking appalled and concerned. Apparently, his brain wasn't on as straight as Tim thought. "Am I going to have to fight your exes? At some point?" 

"No!" 

"Yes!" Steph says, handing you a red bean bag. Tim scowls at Steph as he watches the color drain from your face. She just shrugs and goes off to annoy Dick. 

“Mr. Boddy?” Damian asks incredulously, reading the box summary again. “You’re kidding.”

“Nope,” you laugh, setting your bean bag next to the one Jason dropped Tim in. Damian rolls his eyes. “This is a stupid movie. Do people really consume this drivel?”

You scrunch your nose but don’t put too much heart into glaring. Thankfully, color is now returning to your face. “The movie hasn’t even started yet!”

“Relax (y/n), the tiny mutant sperm is just playing elitist,” Steph says, plopping next to Jason and eyeing his bowlful of buttery popcorn. 

“As long as it isn’t as bad as the Happening-”

“Dude, you live in a city with Poison Ivy. That thing is pretty much a documentary,” Duke says hesitantly taking the spot between Steph and Cass. 

"Please, for the love of Alfie, please, talk about something else," Dick whines, plopping a bean bag next to Tim. Jason’s face twists in confusions before his eyes light up and untwists into an expression with amusement. "Is it because of the-" Dick hits him square in the face with a pillow, all the while screeching "Think of the children!"

"Where, Dickface?" Jason ask, prompting Dick to point(jazz hands)  at Damian who rolls his eyes. Jason does the same, looking younger than the toughened exterior suggested. "That's a gremlin, Dickface. Not a child." 

"He is-"

"SHUSH! The movie is starting!" 

You giggle, curling into Tim's side and placing your head in the crook of his neck where you usually like to put it. Tim's insides shiver from the contact and his hands automatically coil around you, pressing his nose into your hair. 

"Jeez, her melons are big," Babs says flatly taking another handful of Dick's popcorn from Damian. Cass snorts and Tim feels embarrassment creep into his skin. He flicks his eyes to you, only to find you smiling into his side. 

"They're almost as big as Dick's," you chuckle. 

"Nah, Jason is bigger," Cass pipes. 

You eye Jason openly which makes the large man cross his arms over his chest.  "Huh, you're right," you note with more confusion than anything. 

"Bruce has moobs too!" Jason protests, red-faced. 

"Son, why?"

The chatter falls silent when the figure at the edge of the room settles itself into the large leather recliner in one corner of the room. You squint your eyes to distinguish its features from the rest of the shadows in the room; only to be greeted by the solemn features of Bruce Wayne. Your breath catches and you feel your skin jump twenty feet in the air. Everyone else in the room seems to have about the same reaction even as he pulls a lever to raise the foot rest.  You all follow his movements with interest. 

“Is Bruce trying to relax?” Duke whispers to Cass who shrugs in response. Steph rolls her eyes, reaching over Duke to try and snatch some popcorn from Jason who just raises his bowl higher. “Shhhhh, Duke, let the B man try to play human,” she says, snatching at the popcorn til the bowl just falls on Jason’s head. 

“He’s trying I guess.” This draws a startled chuckle out of you that you try to press in Tim’s neck. The vibrations against his skin has him shivering. 

“B, are you ok?” Dick asks. This makes Bruce’s features move in a slightly concerned fashion which in Bruce speak is very concerned. “Yes, why?”

“Ooooh, no reason, old man.” He turns to Babs. “Yeah that’s not Bruce. Five bucks says it’s a robot.” Babs snickers, grabbing a ten from her purse. “Ten says it’s an alien.” You twist to look at them, taking out a twenty. “Twenty says it’s just Mr.Wayne.” Jason sneers at you, taking your money. “You clearly don’t know the old man.”

“Can we please just watch this film in peace?” Bruce groans, running a hand over his face, finally looking more like the long suffering single dad of eight kids that he should be.  Babs looks over her shoulder, slinging Bruce an absolutely disbelieving look. “Do you even know your children?”

“Yes, father, have you even watched us bond?” Damian asks, using his free hand to do air quotes for the word ‘bond’ while using the other to try and swipe some popcorn from Cass. It doesn’t work. 

“That definitely isn’t Bruce,” Dick hisses, trying to shield his own bowl of popcorn  from an irate Damian. 

“SHHHHHH! I can’t hear the movie!”

“It’s definitely the butler,” Dick declares.  Damian scowls, throwing a pillow at him which Dick catches with ease. “Grayson, the movie has barely started.”

“It’s definitely the butler. It’s gotta be. It’s always the butler.”

“That’s very offensive to Alfred, Dick,” Cass says, grinning. Alfred sniffs poshly in his own recliner. Dick recoils but Jason piles on. “Very classist of you, Dickiebird.”

Duke snorts. “Nah, I think he’s just saying it because Tim Curry was Pennywise the Clown.” 

“Why would you trust a clown?” 

“Oh my god, why are you guys comparing Alfred to a clown?”

“We are not!”

“This conversation is a trainwreck,” Tim groans into your hair. “Dunno, Tim, it sounds like a success,” you laugh, pressing closer. His eyes flick between you and his siblings. “You planned this.” You look up at him, failing to flatten a smile. “Nope.”

“I say it’s Ms. Scarlett,” Bruce says, rubbing his chin contemplatively. 

“You’re just saying that cus she reminds you of Selina,” Tim huff, grinning and you’re half tempted to pinch his cheeks. Bruce cuts him a scathing look that has you shrinking; the grin on Tim’s face just broadens which just makes the playful scowl on Bruce’s face deepen. “Need I remind you who pays for the internet?”

“Alfred?” Tim asks, innocently. 

“Careful Tim, B man might actually do it. Hell, he’ll probably do it if he finds out what you did last Thursday.”

“Do you mean the explosion on Fifth?” you ask, turning to Steph.  Steph gives you a firm nod; in the corner of your eye, you can see Bruce arching a brow. Tim gapes at you looking absolutely gutted. “What happened to snitches get stitches?” Tim protests. 

 You shrug, grinning. “Sorry, Duckie, I stand by my cookie dealer. Who do you think sneaks Duke and me cheetos in Western Civilization? I stand by my fellow barbarian.”

“You know Duke?”

“I pay him to-”

“Shhhhh!” 

“You guys are talking too!”

“At least, it’s movie related!” Damian hisses. 

You throw up your hands with an exaggerated flail. “Fine!”

“I say it’s the shifty looking lady,” Jason declares, reaching over Duke and Steph to try and snatch some popcorn from Cass. You wonder why Jason doesn’t just snatch some from Alfred since he’s closer. You try to ask Tim but he just shakes his head at you.  “Ms.Peacock?” Cass asks, shoving Jason’s face away with butter covered fingers.  Duke tries to snatch a few kernels in the confusion only to get his hand swatted. “I think he means Mrs. White,” he says, waving his hand.  “Yeah that one.”

“It’s the butler! It’s always butler!” Dick protests. 

“I will fucking riot if it’s the butler!” Steph shoots back.

“It can’t be the butler.”

“Why not, Dami? He has motive.”

Damian rolls his eyes.“Gordon, why are you siding with Grayson?-” Babs opens her mouth to answer but Damain continues before she can get another syllable out “-nevermind. He doesn’t have as much motive as the rest of them. Besides, does he really look competent enough to hold a gun left alone with a knife?”

Tim raises his chin from your head. “Demon Spawn, your standards for butlers is too high. Alfred is-”

“You say this like you have plenty of references.” 

“Oh, Tommy Terrific, Duckie here is a posh bastard,” Jason sneers ruffling Tim’s hair. From the way, some of his hairs stick up you could guess that he still had some butter in his hand. Tim makes a face of disgust; you try your best to help him with his hair. “Jay, you say that but you’re like Mr. I need the correct type of wood for my bookshelves,” Steph laughs.  “Just because I’m not a slob like the rest of you walking disasters doesn’t mean I’m posh.”

“Yes, it does. You lived here. Yanno with Alfie,” Dick says, pulling out another pack of snacks he’d managed to snag from your bag. You’re not gonna ask at this point. Tim gives you a look which roughly translates to ‘I am very sorry for my trainwreck of a family’. You snort at him before turning towards his sibling. “I mean look at Cass. She’s still feral.” If looks could kill, the look Cass give you would melt your bones. Thankfully, Damian opens his mouth. “They’re all feral.” You have a sense that you’ve also been insulted. You hear Babs to your right laugh derisively. “You say this like you’re any less feral than the rest of us.”

“I am-”

“Are any of you still watching the movie?” Bruce asks and for the second time that night, your body tries to divorce your soul. You had almost forgotten that yes, you are watching Clue with the fucking Batman. You shift in your seat suddenly feeling a twinge of nervousness. Before the discomfort could nestle in you, Jason speaks up. “No, Bruce, we’re just watching Cass vacuum the popcorn into her stomach. What do you think?”

“You guys didn’t ask,” Cass says through a mouthful of popcorn knowing full well that’s a lie. 

“How can any of you be watching it? All you’ve done is talk over the dialogue.” You almost laugh at how exasperated he sounds. Beside you, Tim just snickers and shakes his head. 

Damian just looks at his father from his bean bag next to Dick. “Father, we can talk and listen. ” Dick, like the mature adult that he is, slaps his knee laughing. “I don’t think B is capable of that.”

“PREACH” was followed by a chorus of AMENs. 

"Alfred, what have I done to turn my children against me?" Bruce asks, tiredly leaning back into his recliner. 

"Master Bruce, how would you like me to list it?" 

"Alfred not you too," Bruce groans, putting his hands in his eyes. 

"Yeah! Alfie's on our side!" Jason cheers. 

"Quite."

"Alfie is always the sensible one," Cass chuckles sensibly between bites. You hear varying noises of agreement and Bruce ages from suave debonair to extremely tired single dad. 

"I assume Alfred is actually the boss here."

"Yeah, Bruce is actually on the bottom of the food chain here," Tim says. You tilt your head in  contemplation. "Yanno that makes Batman so much less scary." 

"B-man's just a giant softie," Steph chirps, slinging her legs over Duke and Cass's laps narrowly missing the nearly empty bowl of popcorn. 

Dick turns to you winking. "Yeah, just give him the puppy eyes and he'll  get you anything you want in 2 seconds flat." 

"Dick…" 

"It's true!"

"Even a carnival?" 

"Can we please just watch the movie?" Bruce says, in an almost pleading voice. 

"I wouldn't hold my breath, old man," Jason chuckles, earning a glare from both Bruce and Damian. "It's not like you know how to shut up, Todd." 

"Sorry, I don’t speak gremlin."

"That's bull Jay!" 

"MOVIE IS STILL GOING ON! SHUT YOUR CAKE HOLES." 

“I TOLD YOU IT WAS THE BUTLER.”

“Yes, yes, it has been publiced and noted, Birdie,” you giggle into Tim’s side, shaking your head. He wraps his arm around you, pressing a kiss into your hair, winking at you. “Does it count?” Tim asks over his shoulder. A look passes between him and Cass. “I don’t think so,” she says grinning. 

“It so does! It’s one of the endings,” Dick protests vehemently. Jason’s mouth flattens then curls into a grin. “By that logic, the old man is right too.”

Dick thinks for a moment, tapping his chin. “Well, we can’t have that.”

“Why not?” Bruce protests. 

"I'm still sticking with the butler. I'm sorry this is the only logical conclusion." 

"He wasn't even an actual butler you butter brain!" Steph protests, throwing a pillow at Dick. 

"I'm sorry but can we address why you're all mounting a mutiny against me?" 

"Teenage rebellion!" Dick answers. 

"Chum, you're not even a teenager." 

"Father's right. At most, Grayson is five years old," Damian pipes from beside Dick seemingly unaffected by his brother's pout. 

"Alfred, you're going to have to check my blood pressure before patrol." 

"Quite, sir."

“They’re all so dramatic just like you said,” you whisper into Tim’s shoulder. 

“I AM NOT DRAMATIC”

“Ah, yes, because the pretty man pose is so pragmatic.” Damian deadpan.  

"That was one time, you assholes!" 

"Hey, what else did Timmy say?" 

"Well he- Oh wait!" You fish out your phone and Tim snacthes it away faster than you can blink. "No-" cough "-you don't." Cough. 

Jason snatches it from him, snickering at the photo of Tim kissing you on the cheek. You're pretty sure Tim has a matching photo with you kissing him on the cheek. "Nice lockscreen, (y/n)."

"Oh, you should see the homescreen!" 

"No. Please don't. You might need eye bleach." 

"Relax Space Cadet, it’s not that one." 

"Ohohoho, what didn't you want big daddy bats to see? Haaa, Timbo?" 

Tim turns every shade of red before settling on fire hydrant red. "None of your business!"

Bruce clears his throat, looking at a stupidly expensive watch. “It’s time.” Dick springs up, stretching and showing off.  “Is it really that time already?” Steph asks in almost a whine. Duke and Cass take the opportunity to shove her off and sadly, she lands with a loud thud and a mangled curse. You wince but laugh unsympathetically which simply earns you a face full of dust covered popcorn. You frown at her and she grins at you as Jason hauls her up by her hoodie. “C’mon Blondie. Let’s leave the love birds alone.”

“It’s not like they’re actually gonna be alone. Alfie’s here. So is Babs.”

“I’m going back to my place. You people give me a headache.” 

“You say that like you weren’t having fun,” Dick teases, walking after her. 

“I’ll be down in the cave if you need me,” Alfred says waving at both of you. “Will do, Alf,” Tim yawns, nuzzling into your hair. 

Cass pops her head back in. “Make sure Tim doesn’t do anything stupid,” She calls back. You grin, bright and wolfish. “Don’t worry! He can’t do me while he’s sick.” You hear Bruce choke in the hall and you just know that you’ll mentally kick yourself for that later. Luckily for you, Tim physically kicks you now. “What the hell?!” Cough. “Sorry, got caught in the moment.” You huff, trying to look a little sorry. Tim just glares more. “You’re not even close to sorry.”

“Ok. Yeah.”

“I have no idea why I love you sometimes.”

“My amazing personality?”

“Sure.”

“Love you too, Tim,” you chirp, kissing him. Tim’s lips feel hot after the quick peck and he pulls you closer. “I love you but I was pretty sure my family was gonna eat you alive.”

“They would have done it,” you hum, pausing before adding, “respectfully.”  

  Tag list: @batarella, @anothertimdrakestan, @lucy-roo, @multifandomgirl-us, @idkmanicantenglish,@birdy-bat-writes,  @boosyboo9206, @americasmarauders , @l-inkage, @arestorationofbalance , @cloudie-skay, @wunderstell   @hyp-oh-critical @glorified-red

[fandom-hoarder]

Cowboy bebop live action spoilers ahead

Godddddd it's SO BAD omg

Wtf did they do to Spike

Wtf did they do to JET???!! THEY DID MY BOY SO DIRTY (eta: looks wise, casting is on-point to what I wanted/expected. This rant is about his dialogue and characterization)

Daughter: "how many people did Spike kill in the 15 seconds after his entrance?! This isn't Spike."

Are you FUCKING SERIOUS?! THEY GOT THEIR FIRST BOUNTY?!?! HAVE YOU WATCHED THE SHOW?!

Why does drug girl seem to have an English accent?

Also note: yes they still did the Hollywood lighting change to show they are now in NEW TIJUANA🙄🙄🙄🙄🙄

They're like... trying so hard and yet not hard enough. These camera angles are falling so short, mate.

FAYE?!?! WTF?! What direction were you given for this acting?? WHAT are these lines? Also I'm torn on the costume change. THE ADDITION TO THIS STORYLINE IS SO STUPID

I know it's very of the time to rant about shitbag corporations and dirty cops--believe me IRL I'm about that--but stuffing that shit into this in the places they did is so stupid and unnecessary. Cringe.

Jet ranting about his daughter and buying her a doll? Getting cucked by a stupid white cop?? GIVING THE WHITE COP AND SPIKE THE 'TJ' LINES?! Tell me why it feels like Jet has been slotted into 'absentee black father' stereotype?! Tell me why they took his personality. TELL ME NOW🤬

Wasting good Spike/Jet banter for setup of their financial and working situation, making them sound like they hate each other, and instead making Jet a caricature that rants to people that are charging him?!

All the dialogue feels really forced.

Making Spike invincible by having JET be the one to get choked

OH. MY GOD. THE WAY THEY DID THE FINAL FIGHT AND ASIMOV'S DEATH. YOU FUCKING RUINED IT WTF

They traded emotional buildup for epic, unemotional gun battle.

WHY IS THE SYNDICATE EVEN INVOLVED IN THIS EPISODE

Ew is that supposed to be Julia?!?!?!

They removed all the humor and character, added more death and blood, and made a spoof that's missing the 'funny' aspect.

[the-minus-four]

Spring

Summary: Tom discovers who you most enjoyed watching him as, and when finding out about your little crush, he doesn’t hesitate to take advantage.   Rating: 18+, (Smut) WC: 1964 Tags: Tom Hiddleston/Loki, smut, Dom/sub, spanking, fingering, blowjob, anal sex, role play, face slapping, choking, orgasm denial. A/Ns: Spring, part 3 of my first mini-series, hope you enjoy! You can read parts 1&2 here if you haven’t already: Seasons of Smut

Dressed in a floor length dark blue gown you smiled up to Tom, grounding yourself amidst the chaos. Tom’s arm wrapped around your waist as he grinned down at you, leaning forward he kissed your forehead. Cameras flashed incessantly and the noise of screaming and shouting roared as people wanted more, trying to get the money shot. You giggled, blushing at the attention. Tom winked reassuringly, knowing you were about to frustrate those paparazzi who had missed the shot the first time around. You moved forward, his arm guiding you with him towards the next set of cameras lined up. You were at the premiere for Tom’s latest film release, you didn’t hate it, but it definitely wasn’t your favourite activity with him. But you wanted to support him, and it always meant a lot for him to have you around. The fact that he wanted to bring you at all was enough of a reason for you to have agreed to go. You continued your way along the red carpet towards the entrance of the building.

“Thank you for coming with me, I know you don’t like the attention,” he stroked his fingers up your waist, sending butterflies through you.

“It’s okay, I like seeing you in movies anyway, it’s funny to think that’s my boyfriend on a giant screen, being someone completely different.” 

He chuckled at you, “yeah? Who’s your favourite character I’ve played?”

“Well, I um, I liked you in High Rise…” you trailed off, blushing. He smirked at you raising his eyebrows, he knew you were avoiding the truth. “Okay, okay, I’ve got a crush on Loki.” 

His laugh rang out, “is that so?” 

“Everyone has a crush on Loki though!” you whined defensively, “he’s… well, he’s bad, but actually, he’s good deep down, he cares.” 

“Uhuh, so you like me with dark hair and horns better?” he teased.

“No, of course not! Just that I love you, but I’d definitely shag Loki if I could.” Laughing, your attention was pulled away as someone approached you, guiding you onwards.

…

The next few days, Tom had dropped quotes of Loki’s in every situation he could. He was quite ridiculous but never failed to make you giggle. Today, it seemed, was no different. 

“I assure you, Y/N, the sun will shine on us again,” he stood by the window, watching the grey clouds move across each other as blossom billowed down to the ground. 

“Hey, I only said I had a crush on Loki, not that I want to live with him” you pouted playfully, rolling your eyes. 

“So, you just wanna fuck him?” he said, but you couldn’t read his tone.

“Well, yeah.” He turned slowly on his heel to look at you, his face expressionless, and you knew you were about to be in trouble. He strode towards you and scooped you up, lifting you over his shoulder, and gripping your legs together.

“Tom!” You laughed breathlessly, “put me down, you know I hate being picked up.” He ignored you and carried on walking towards the bedroom. He threw you down onto the bed and walked across to the wardrobe rummaging in the bottom.

“What are you looking for?” you asked. He ignored you and pulled something out of a box that you’d never noticed before, a glint of gold catching your eye. He placed it on his head and you realised he’d stolen Loki’s helmet from set. Reaching into the box again, he pulled out a long cloak to go with it, shoulder-pads and all. He stood up tall and puffed his chest out majestically, the horns giving him extra height. You were in hysterics, you couldn’t take him seriously with his plain white t-shirt and jeans, but the serious expression and giant horns, not to mention the cloak. He glared at you.

“Kneel before me” he projected across the room at you. Wiping the tears of laughter from your eyes, you skipped over to kiss him. You reached up on your tiptoes to kiss his mouth, but his expression hadn’t changed, and he didn’t move. 

“I said… KNEEL!” you flinched, unable to tell whether he was serious or not. He fixed his glare on you, and you looked at him quizzically, eyes wide. “You said you wanted to fuck me didn’t you? Well it’s now or never slut. I am Loki, and I could have anyone, so you’d better be good.” he growled at you with Loki’s voice. 

His long fingers gripping around your throat, he pushed you down and you sank to your knees. You looked at his crotch and saw his jeans bulging. You hadn’t noticed he’d become hard. He removed his hand from your neck, and opened his jeans, his cock free. Stroking it gently, it grew harder in front of you. You bit down on your lip, eager to take him into your mouth. His belt clinked as he removed his belt and wrapped it around your head, pulling you towards his length. You took him into his mouth, tasting him and coating his cock in your saliva, you felt the belt tighten around the back of your head. He guided you further down his cock. Without warning, he thrust into you, holding the belt in place and you gagged around him, blinking the tears out of your eyes. Spluttering, you tried to push him away. 

“Tom,” you gasped. He slapped you. 

“Name’s Loki, whore.” 

He replaced his cock in your mouth, and began fucking your mouth hard and unforgiving. He pulled out, letting you breathe, before sliding back into you. The taste of precum leaked onto your tongue and you moaned gently around him, sending vibrations through your tongue and lips. He growled and pulled out, and you wiped the back of your hand across your mouth.

He slipped the end of the belt through the buckle and tightened it around your neck, using it as a leash to pull you up. Pulling you towards him, his lips melted against yours, fingers running through your hair. Heat ran through you, wetness pooling between legs. He’d not been this rough with you before, and you didn’t know what was to come. Bringing his hand up to your face, he brushed your cheekbone, and his muscles rippled, popping out of his sleeves. Fuck, how did you get so lucky. He pulled the belt loose, keeping it in his hand. Towering over you he guided you towards the bed.

“Turn around” he commanded. He ripped your shirt open, buttons flying across the room, and pulled your bra down, revealing your breast. Grabbing your nipple between his fingers his other hand stroked across your stomach, the leather of the belt sending warmth to your core. You leaned back against him trying to coax him between your legs. He pinched your nipple hard and pulled you away from him.

“Now now, sweetheart, let’s not forget, you exist for my pleasure. You will serve me in whatever way I want. I might not even let you come today, or I might rip as many orgasms from you as I can, that’s my choice. Bend over the bed, and spread your legs.” you whimpered at the thought of not being allowed to orgasm, but it only made you more aroused. You obeyed him walking slowly to the bed, and accentuating your ass as you bent over, teasing him. You heard the belt jingle, and it came down on your ass, the wetness between your legs immediately pooling in your underwear, you were desperate for him to touch you. Screaming, you reached back where it had hit you, he hadn’t been hard, but it was unexpected. Loki was certainly rougher than Tom, and you suspected he wasn’t through with you yet. 

“Do not tease me, you will find that I am quick to punish.” He stroked a hand between your legs, and up to the waistband of your leggings. In one stroke he pulled them and your underwear to the floor. Gliding his hands, fingers outstretched up your legs, he reached your slit and pushed a finger into you. 

“What a wet little slut you are. You like being punished and treated like a whore don’t you?” he goaded. 

“Yes, yes sir,” you gasped, and tried to rock on his finger to find some relief. He grasped your hip and stopped you, sliding the finger out and up to your puckered hole. Stroking around your entrance, he coated you and gently stretched you as his finger glided into your ass. You groaned with the intrusion, and the thought of what might come next. With his forefinger gently working you, he pushed a second inside, opening you up. The tip of his cock pushed towards your pussy, and slid along you, your juices covering his cock. You bit your lip as his fingers, still working you, pulled out and were swiftly replaced by his length. 

He gently pushed into you, deeper and deeper past each ring of muscle inside you, until you felt his stomach against your ass. He began to thrust in and out of you, slow at first, but as you got used to his size he thrust forward harder. Reaching forward, he pulled your hair making you arch back, and his hand reached around for your throat. Squeezing tightly, you quickly sucked in a breath. Your hair dropped and he moved his hand around to your breasts, grabbing hard and tweaking your nipple. He released your nipple and his hand slipped down your stomach and began to rub your clit, never easing up his thrusts. You mewled at the onslaught of sensation, your throat clamped, barely able to breathe, your ass a little sore, but his cock hitting you at a perfect angle, and now his fingers circling your nub. 

“Please, please Loki, I want to come.” you begged. He removed his hands from both your clit and your neck and you whined in protest. The hand on your neck swiftly moved to behind you and grabbed your hair. He pushed your face into the bed and continued to fuck you relentlessly.

“You will not come,” he growled, “you’re here to serve your God, remember?” 

Whimpering you nodded into the bed, not sure how much more you could take of him. You weren’t usually able to find release from anal, but today you just might. He thrust hard into you and stopped, filling you completely, with every breath you took, you could feel him deep inside you. Slowly, he slid out of you, and your body protested at the sudden emptiness.

“Stay still.” You heard him begin to slide his hand up and down his shaft, his other hand grabbing your hip, and you could feel the tip nudge your ass cheek. His pace got faster and suddenly he moaned, hot fluid spraying onto your ass. He stepped back and reached for your underwear, in a pile by your feet. Guiding your feet into them he pulled them up, leaving you with his cum. He bent over and kissed you on the shoulder, your sign that he was finished with you. 

You turned to face him, and he grinned down at you, planting a kiss on your forehead, the horns still looking ridiculous on his head without a costume. 

“Well?” he smirked down at you.

“I’m glad I fucked Loki, but, well, I definitely prefer Tom,” you gazed up to him, and he leaned down, lying next to you. He wrapped his arms around you, enveloping you in his cloak, warming you. Stroking the back of your head, he kissed you softly on the forehead, and along the cheek he’d slapped you on. 

“That was intense baby, are you okay?” 

“Never better,” you sighed into him, comforted.

@fire-in-her-veinz I’m taking the liberty of tagging you in this, since you did kinda request Loki roleplay :D hope you enjoy sweetie!

Taglist cuties:

@negans-lucille-tblr @markofdean79 @just-the-hiddles @morgueswrld

[spnreactionblogging]

INHERIT THE EARTH

SPOILERS BELOW but I guess I’m late to the party huh

oh boy here goes, it's 12/10/2020 as I write this and I've had social media blacklisting SPN tags for the last month so I could get into the headspace to deal with this, I have not heard good things but although I got 15x19 spoiled for me I have somehow avoided 15x20 spoilers so let's see joining me is Two Brothers Pinch of Grace beer and Angel's Envy rum cask rye whiskey a "familiar face" returns? the dog? oh boy it's a buckleming episode I can't wait. how much of this footage was shot after lockdown, is what I want to know. what changed. I am upset that I'm walking into Jack Dying, the episode, on the heels of Cas Dying, the episode the violin is soulful and good at least thank you Jack. thank you for asking where he is. I love this shot of sam against the power lines. he looks so small. dean I really don't want you to be the one pretending you give a shit and trying to "comfort" jack. nice reverse establishing shot of the earth. "hokay. so, here's the earth." oh hey jake abel. I guess I knew that. doesn't mark pellegrino show up too. they're the only PCs left oh sweetheart :( he's trying to pray to him. so buckleming remembered that was an option, huh, just not like. in the ma'lak box jack sitting on that giant retail planter is so damn sad man the fucking uh, the empty news chair with the camera rolling is wild. I love you sam I love rob and every time I see him I'm sad that they made chuck such an asshole calling jack a "lapdog" wow. indeed. okay chuck you're ripping off The Road or whatever, we get it jack has like honest to god pajamas. maybe they were from the dryad or whoever for christmas dean passed out on the floor huh he found a liquor store and he drank it is jack hearing angel radio again doggo "I love you miracle dog" this dog honestly is the best thing oh there he goes :( rickrolled "maybe that's the point. no one left to save. no one but us." sam is better at reading than dean is okay that is a COOL fucking camera angle looking down from above the crucifix this does feel a lot lonelier, like early seasons are we looking at the stations of the cross, is that what the pages were turned to. I couldn't quite see jake abel, I wish I had not missed your baking show with misha that instagram failed to record :( "poor bastard never caught a break" no fucking kidding, RIP adam (finally) michael's been running PR on earth I can't get over how much it looks like jack and adam/michael should be related can michael read the death book? lmao this is how a lot of people seem to feel about books in general, like it's causing them pain to try to read. dramatic music as no one can read it's chuck pranking them again. guaranteed. LMAOOOOO OR LUCIFER so the empty can eject angels back onto earth. fascinating. ah, betty is a reaper. she's gonna come back as death, huh so she can read the book tbh good for her the headbutt was good death starter kit with the decoder ring lmaooooo GOD talking to them like they're petty children is honestly making my day!!! "not a group project" I mean even if she was with them she could just lie about what it says. not okay with leaving jack and lucifer alone "almost-mighty" is really funny the house of cards is good lucifer's right about "fuck god" is betty the empty hahaha you guys got fucked "mikey's a cuck" wow. thanks buckleming. cuckleming? archangel blade??? jack u ok did sam hook michael up with that??? sam is smart. thank fuck. sam'll have it cracked in an hour. sam's got the book of the damned and google translate: enochian (that he cowrote with castiel) sam's a witch wherever they're filming is gorgeous GET HIM, SAM, PUNCH GOD IN THE FACE that was inspired. that was like bobby singer shooting lucifer levels of inspired. buckleming had to get their torture in. last hurrah for the torture train where's jack??? this is what people mean when they say "I like to torture my OCs" you know you didn't have to be an asshole to your grandchild, dude I like when everybody's eyes glow but especially jack's this empty book is trump's COVID plan. just blank sheets of paper stapled together sam is smart. jack's like a mushroom. just soaks up all the good juices in the pan. what if sam and dean make out in the next episode and we find out becky wrote the whole show. maybe you just have to be a regular jackoff, chuck. dean pretty much is the ultimate killer. I mean yeah that is who you are, dean how victorious. you die sick and alone and forgotten with no healthcare. america! this is a bummer. is this victorious? did we win? lmao the sign "ONE MORE!" is that a teal impala over there how do you have extras in this episode, yeesh how much was stock footage, if any "What do we call you?" "Who cares what we call him? All that matters is that we got him back online." fuck off dean at least let jack answer "of course he's coming back" fuck off dean why would he come back with you if he can do anything he wants GO FIND CAS fuck off dean just fuck off dude, you don't get to boss him around how freudian, kill your grandfather who is god very demiurge of you, jack jack's off to be a blind watchmaker I love how he waves, jack is adorable god they're like literally red oni blue oni (red jackass, blue jackass?) over here lmao, these shirts when did cas and jack write their names on the table, they only count now that they're dead? or did I miss something earlier this shot of "what is and what should never be" absolutely breaks my goddamn heart. top fave. fuck. this is a sweet tribute how is this not the end???? I like how kim rhodes and misha collins get special guest star credits for their voicemails/fake phone call literally how is this not the ending to the show. why is there another episode. sans undertale appears to warn me not to watch the next episode. "you're gonna have a bad time." a friend who's not in the fandom asked me "is the tetanus thing for real" and I was like "??????????" and that's the only thing I know going into this. what do they do, drive into toluca lake have a jared and jensen spa day I caught wind of someone saying like "what if sam wakes up to 'heat of the moment' again" which would be BRILLIANT but they're not that clever do they just get stabbed by a regular-ass ghost? do we delete the whole universe and salt and burn the show itself? where do we even go from here. how many sharks are left to jump. someone said "sam gets shot by navient for unpaid student loans" and that is fucking funny and too real sam dies of muscular dystrophy and dean sings "heat of the moment" to congress to allow stem cell research? what. what could you possibly write from here. and why would you. I feel like any shitpost thing I say is still gonna be more clever than what they came up with and I'm not sure I should even watch it. I also hate the idea that buckleming would have the last word but it was surprisingly watchable is this SPN's equivalent of the candy epilogue, but with zero self-awareness? the network swooping in for a final "fuck you" like they did to mark sheppard? what. what even. I don't know if I want to know

[colbybrocksmolder]

All Love - Colby Brock x Bi F Reader

TW : coming out

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

Over the last year your career had taken off. You had always had a decent following for posting odd but beautiful photos of yourself and your friends, but almost exactly a year ago you met someone that would change your life.

You remember walking into the studio and watching your friend Shelby position their current model in front of the camera. He was beautiful. He had dark hair and bold eyebrows. Pouty lips. He had a very masculine body, but it was still soft. You couldn’t look away. He was wearing fishnet sleeves, listening to every instruction she gave him.

“Colby, stop smiling!” Shelby called out, scolding him for yet again breaking his pose.

“IT’S NOT MY FAULT! She’s making me nervous!” he laughed, finally breaking you out of your stare.

“Me?” you asked, laughing and walking over to your friend. She had asked you to pick up food on your way to the studio.

Shelby looked over, realizing you were in the room. “Oooo, a good time for a break anyways. Colby, I never took you as someone who got nervous around girls.”

“Feed me, don’t tease me.” Colby laughed, joining the two of you behind the camera. “And your friend……” he looked at you, waiting for you to share your name.

“Y/n” you smiled over at him.

“Your gorgeous friend Y/n was staring at me. Who would have been able to keep a straight face?” He explained, taking a bite of the food.

“Sorry.” You blushed “This shoot is stunning, Shel” you complimented, clicking through the photos she had already taken of Colby.

“You wanna hop in there?” she asked, looking between you and Colby.

“I don’t want to interrupt.” You answered, looking through more photos.

“Come on, y/n. You’ll only make it better.” Colby had smiled over at you.

You never in a million years thought this boy would end up being one of the best friends you’ve ever had.

As time went on, you two shot dozens of photo shoots together. One night he had convinced you to start a YouTube channel with him just showing the behind the scenes of being a model. The ups and downs of dealing with social media. The sometimes-ugly truth behind what the internet called beauty. This all blossomed from a video he had done talking about how he wanted his fans to understand that almost all of his photos were edited. He had been struggling to cope with some of his own body image issues and well…being Colby he wanted to help others that were also going through it.

“Leave that in.” Colby had said, watching you edit one of the videos.

“Colby, your fans already think we’re dating. Do you really think they’re going to just let this slide on by without freaking out?” You laughed, pulling back the clip to re-watch it.

*the clip*

You and Colby were posed together. His hands wrapped around your waist supporting your weight as you leaned back as far as you could. Your arms posed like you were falling.

Shelby had taken a few photos to test out the angles and the lighting and the three of you were looking them over. “Oh, god. Delete those. Colby you’ve gotta move your hands.”

The two of you had gotten back in front of the camera. “Where do you want my hands?” Colby had asked, already knowing why you were so unhappy with the photos.

“Move your right hand up and make sure it stays flat.” You instructed, leaning back to allow Shel to snap a few more photos.

“I think you’ll like these more.” She said, you and Colby joining her behind the camera.

“Oh my god, so much better.” You said, clicking through them.

Colby had slipped his arms around you from behind. “Y/n, I know you looked at those other shots and thought you looked bad.” He said, kissing your shoulder, then your shoulder blade, then moving his lips over your ribs. “But you looked beautiful. You were bent over backwards. You’re not fat. That was just your waist.” he said, kissing down to your side and then finally to the spot that had made you insecure.

You had closed your eyes and smiled. Colby always knew. He knew you better than anyone on the planet. And he knew how to settle you. To calm your worries and your insecurities. “Everyone needs one of you in their lives.” You said, feeling Colby stand back up behind you.

He had put his arms back around you and pulled you to lean back against his chest. “What’s our next pose?” he asked, moving on like he hadn’t just come to your rescue.

*end of clip*

“Dude we’re almost naked, your hands are all over me, and you kissed me multiple times. Do you really want that out on the internet?” you looked over at him, seriously asking. You always seemed more worried about his image than he did.

“I want that whole clip left in.” He answered, scooting down on the couch to lean into your side, literally shoveling handfuls of popcorn into his mouth.

“As you wish.” You plopped the clip back into the timeline, laughing at how ungraceful and dorky such a beautiful human could look. He heard you laugh and shoved a handful of popcorn into your face, the whole thing ending in a mess.

You shared more moments like that than you ever thought you would. Both of you had insecurities, but not with each other.

“I don’t like this.” Colby had said during a shoot. “I’m twisting funny and I feel like I keep sticking my stomach out and I seriously just fucking don’t like this.” You watched as he sighed, dragging his hands over his face. “I’ll be right back.”

Following him out onto the balcony of the studio, you walked to stand in front of him. “Stop” is all you said, your hands resting against his chest.

“I’m sorry” he said, his eyes closed. You could tell he was trying to break himself out of his thought process, his lips moving like he was repeating something to himself.

Your hands slowly moved down his chest, over his stomach. Your fingers gently moving back and forth over the flesh just above his jeans. “Stop flexing.”

“Y/n” he sighed, still caught up in his head. He always thought that because his body wasn’t super lean like some of his friends that it meant he looked pudgy. He hated those bottom few inches of his stomach and you happened to find them incredibly sexy.

“Colby” you said in a warning tone. “Stop flexing or I’m going to bite you.” You smirked up, seeing him finally open his eyes and look down at you.

“What the fuck?” he laughed.

“You’re still flexing.” You said, slowly moving down to bite at the soft flesh he hated most.

“How is biting me going to make me feel better?” he asked, keeping eye contact with you as your mouth neared where your hands were rested against him.

“It’s just something I’ve always wanted to do” you said, pressing a few kisses to his skin. “Every time you move to cover this up, I just want to bite it.” You pressed an open mouth kiss to one side of his belly button before biting down and dragging the skin gently with your teeth.

Colby’s gasped, his eyes never leaving yours. “I just hate it.” He said, finally relaxing and unflexing his torso.

“There you go, baby.” You said, leaving tiny love bites from one hip bone to the other and standing up. “I’m proud of you.”

The two of you walked back into the studio, you were clung to Colby’s back. “Great” Shelby said. “Now I need to cover up teeth marks.” The three of you laughing.

There were times that yours and Colby’s friendship was very physical. You had spent numerous nights loving each other’s bodies. Each other’s flaws and scars and dimples and freckles…To say you knew each other’s bodies as well as you knew your own seems fairly accurate. And while you two were unfathomably good for each other’s self-love and confidence, you weren’t in love. You loved each other, yes. You’d kill for the other. No one knew each other’s minds or bodies better than the other. Sex definitely hadn’t complicated your friendship at all…but it deepened your connection and you started to feel bad. There was one thing you had never shared with your friend and you almost felt ashamed…but the truth was, you hadn’t told a single other soul.

One morning, too early for the sun to come up, you were sleeplessly draped across Colby’s body. You had laid there with your head to his chest, hearing his heartbeat slow after indulging in a wonderful and passionate night with your friend. But now you were thinking. Overthinking. And the tears you had been holding back were slowly pooling on the warm bare chest below you.

“Y/n?” Colby’s sleepy voice rasped. You didn’t answer, hoping he’d just go back to sleep. “Baby, I can feel you shaking.” He said, his hand gently caressing your hair and then resting on your back.

“I’m sorry.” You whispered, unable to truly speak.

Colby moved to sit up, pulling your naked form into his lap. “Y/n, why are you apologizing? What’s wrong?”

“I promise I trust you. I didn’t mean to keep it from you.” It felt hard to breathe. Your chest heavy with a secret you had kept for far too fucking long.

“Y/n, please. Just tell me what’s wrong.” He had never seen you break down like this and you guys had seen each other’s worst moments. He ducked his head to press kisses to your face. “Beautiful girl, why are you hurting?”

You turned your face to his, your hands distracting themselves by tracing his collarbone. “I have a secret.” You said, trying to calm your breathing. You hid your face in Colby’s neck, your fingers still tracing the beautiful lines of his body.

Colby took a second to think about how to proceed, one of his hands moving up and down your back. “You’re allowed to have secrets.” He said into your hair, pressing a kiss to the top of your head.

“I don’t want it” you replied.

“Then give it to me” he wrapped you in his arms.

“I’m…I uh. I’m not straight” you said, your breath catching in your chest.

For a second, Colby panicked. All he could think was that you two had been physically together over a dozen times and the thought of you letting him touch your body for any reason other than WANTING him to touch you made him feel sick. “Baby, why would you let me touch you…you didn’t think you had to…Y/n I love you. I never ever wanted to force anything…”

You interrupted him the second you figured out what was going through his mind. “Colby” you said, pulling his face to look directly at yours. “No. No no no. I like girls AND boys. You never hurt me.” You pulled his lips to yours, pushing him back down on the bed.

“Jesus Christ.” He said, breaking the kiss and catching his breath. “For a second there I thought I was the worst person on the planet.”

You chuckled, laying your head back on his chest. “Don’t worry. I’ve felt that way for a while. I never meant to keep this from you.”

“You told me when you were ready” he answered, simply, like you had no reason to have worried over this for weeks.

“It’s hard being born with a secret, you know?” You felt Colby’s hand trace patterns into the naked skin of your back. “I mean, YOU never had to tell people you liked girls. Why do I have to?”

“That sounds unfair” Colby replied. You could hear his heartbeat begin to slow again, the anxiety leaving his body.

“Thank you” you whispered to the beautiful human that had continued to fend off your worries and anxieties and bad thoughts.

Colby would continue to be the best friend a girl could ask for. He sat next to you when you told your mom and literally threatened to kick your dad’s ass when that visit didn’t go as planned. He convinced Shelby to do a few lgbtqia+ photo shoots when you were afraid to ask because you hadn’t come out to anyone. He knew you wanted to and that it was important to you. He even participated in them and posed with other men. He accompanied you to your first Pride and wore the most obnoxious shirt. It was a pink tank top with “My best friend likes (cat emoji)” printed on the front. You made him take a picture with Sam while wearing it because it made you laugh. He let you take the picture. He pretended to “accidentally” shove you into the girl you were checking out at the bar and he gave you bomb clickbait for your “I’m not single” video where you came out and introduced your very first girlfriend. He even cancelled a week’s worth of plans when that relationship went downhill and you were left with a broken heart.

So here you two were, looking out at a beautiful skyline. He had canceled his plans and packed a bag for the both of you, pulling you to his car and driving north. No clue where you’d actually end up. Turns out, Portland is gorgeous. You two spent the week taking pictures of each other in the wonderful nature scenes that surrounded you. You really only checked your phones to tell Sam and Shelby you were safe.

“It gets better” he said to you, pulling you closer to him.

You two were spending your last night in Oregon camping up in the mountains. You were laid out on a blanket, the sounds of nature and animals and running water more peaceful than any night either of you had ever spent in LA.

“Love sucks” you said, snuggling into his warm familiar body.

Colby laughed. “No, it doesn’t.”

“It sure feels like it.” You sighed.

“Love is beautiful. Love can be hard or temporary…maybe it’s not always in its right time, but Y/n…” he kissed the top of your head. “All love is beautiful.”

[moviestorian]

Queen on Fire - Live at the Bowl 1982 concert (Hot Space Tour) LIVEBLOGGGGGGGG

As promised! :) Initially I was supposed to go directly from Montreal to Wembley, but dear @his-majesty-king-mercury convinced me to do Live at the Bowl before, and I’m glad she did!

Background: The concert is dated at June 5, 1982. As I wrote in the title, it was part of the Hot Space tour and was initially supposed to be played at Arsenal Stadium in Highbury. A day before the gig Freddie had a nasty fight with his then-boyfriend who had bitten him between a thumb and forefinger.

Let’s begin! - ugh Hot Space - but hey, it's gonna be fun! It's Queen, and Queen always puts the bestest live shows! - oh wowzie, this is mah first liveblog since April, long time not seen right? - my pizza's ready, my coffee's ready, my dip is ready - I think I can start watching now - Ooo wow, this concert lasts an hour and 43 minutes? I would die if I had to play on stage for that long - I can already feel the enthusiasm!!! The ENERGYYYY - FLASH AAAAAAHHH AHHHH - they're leaving the plane and look so hella cuuute - oh hi Crystal! oh hi Phoebe! Great to see you all! - gotta say... Freddie's outfit is fabulous. - Brian: plays the guitar and jumps the Crowd: HELL YEAH - I'm only 3 minutes in and my current mood is: fuck the critics whoever trashed Queen and disrespected their music skills - WE WILL WE WILL ROCK YOU - I love the fast version, slaps 100 times harder than the studio version - Deaky looks awesome in blue, I mean I already noticed that when I watched Rock Montreal, but let me reiterate - It's only been 5 minutes but let me tell you...not enough zooms for Roger - Freddie's in a good shape and form... not that I'm surprised - ROGER - cute red little scarf on mah boi's neck - THE FIRST FREDDIE AND ROG INTERACTIONS, I LIVE, I'M HAPPY - "hello everybody" "hey hey hey" good time to miss Freddie - Action This Time... Anyone surprised that it sounds better live than on the album? - ROGER'S VOCALS HOTDAMN - Brian's hair is floofy as usual... why am I acting like it's an unusual thing - I really really miss hearing Freddie and Roger together... POWER DUO - the synths get introduced... I neither love nor hate it tbh - okay not Queen related but the pizza is not bad, for a frozen one - Freddie, you feeling too hot for that jacket? And you Deaky, too? Get undressed, babes, I certainly don't mind - Play the Game! I love this song... Also Freddie playing on a piano is a blessing to us all - He really puts his soul into this one... Bless this man - Brian's backing vocals always sound so soft... My tenor angel - THANK FRICKING GOD THE SYNTHS IN THE BACKGROUND ARE BARELY AUDIBLE - LOL FREDDIE - he put a towel on his head I'm XDDDD what a legend - this and the famous plastic bag is a thrilling saga - AAAAA YOOOO - LMAO at Freddie throwing his...water?beer? at the audience - *Hot Space apologist speech* :P - we're at the funky part, I guess... - Brian and John's synchronized movements :)))) - ah okay it's Staying Power... I forgot what the song sounds like - Roger in black... I'm swooning - Roger has a nice closeup view on Freddie's butt, I mean back :D - This is not bad, but I'm gonna bet that I'll forget what this song sounds like again in less than two hours - John's haircut is cute and adorbs :D - OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO - Somebody to Love!!!!!!!!!!!!! - The intro...sounds so sublime, soft, and raw at the same time - I love that it sounds slightly different, depending on the concert - This is really emotional... We shall see how it goes, but so far it surpasses even the god tier Montreal version! - Forgive me for not saying too much now... I'm fully sunk in the sheer beauty of this sincere performance - Love Roger's drumming and the crowd clapping to the beat! - "I like it" ME TOO FREDDIE - I wish we could hear Roger a tiny bit better! I love the crescendo part - That was beautiful :') - Now I'm Here!!!! asjgashasashjgas - I love it when they perform it at higher speed - The jumping crowd fairly represents what my brain cells currently look like - I hella love Roger's drumming in this song - well not just this song but y'know - Freddie...what was that??? WHAT DID YOU DO WITH THAT FINGER??? - hehe you can tell that Brian's very into it :D - Brian trying to get Roger's attention... Rog is, however, fully dedicated to his drums :D - Freddie lying down after the song is a post-exercise or post-dinner mood - "Let's play a game" YES SIR - yeah yeah yeah yeah yeah - "Go pretty boy, go" I'm SOFT - hear that bassline? YES ME TOO - (it's Dragon Attack if anyone's wondering) - Freddie Mercury: lead singer AND fitness instructor - wish I could make some screencaps, alas I'm watching this online so it would take too much effort so here we are - Fred, let BRIAN PLAYYYY nooo don't distract him! - out of context those cuts and shots look like John is jealous of Freddie and Roger XDDD this is gif and meme worthy (around 39 minute) - btw probably no one is interested because you came here for the Queen concert liveblog, but I got my period and I'm starting to feel it - IT SUCKS - ooooo Brian speaking! His voice is so soothing, I could listen to him all day and it would probably calm my nerves - acoustic guitar...I'm already in - WHY SO QUIET THOUGH - Love of My Life, I'm cry - Everyone's singing along from the very first line... this is beautiful - Everyone united by this song's pure beauty :))))) I'm not crying you are - Do you sometimes think about Brian playing the acords for this gorgeous track and there is no Freddie sitting beside him? - Yeah, I hate myself for that thought too - I might be a little bit emotional - No wonder it was this particular song was the one that finally convinced Bri's father to FINALLY accept his son's career - Brian's gentle smile I'm :') :') :') - *clap clap clap clap* SAME - We're at Save Me now... Are we doing a crying compilation or what? - This is almost as bad as the Queen Forever album I recently bought.. TOO EMOTIONAL - Don't get me wrong, I ADORE Save Me - But this is too much - Almost 50 minutes in and Freddie's voice is still STRONG AS A BELL - Remember what I said about the "fuck the critics" mood? Yeah the mood is back - Even the cute Roger/Freddie interaction almost makes me cry I'm agsahjhsAAAAAAAAA - I need a more lighthearted now BLEASE - I'm a tough cookie but when I have Queen feels very little can help! - Is this Back Chat? OH GOD - Please bring me back to the crying mode, I DIDN'T MEAN THIS - (I'm sorry Fidan and all the Back Chat fans over there, I'm not a huge fan of this song :-*) - We get a nice view on Roger's back, though *Lenny face* - The synths sound like a main theme for some mystery-drama tv show from the 1980s XDDD - I forgot how long this song is... - Get Down Make Love *insert Lenny face again* - Okay I gotta admit... lyrically this song is a mess and borderline cringey in the first verse, but I really like it musically - I GIVE YOU HEAT - I GIVE YOU MEAT *three Lenny faces* - Okay, let's just listen to the song and pretend we all forgot the English language, maybe? - That mid parts always makes me feel like I'm about to be abducted by aliens - Thank God I don't do drugs, I would start thinking I might be hallucinating - I assume that Brian's guitar solo starts now? - Nice intro! - And Roger gets time to breathe, the boy needs his oxygen - Actually, this may be one my favourite of Brian's guitar solos? - Brighton Rock :))))))))))))))) - Brian's hands are very pretty - oh noooooo - an error? - poor Bri - that disappointed guy who screamed "No" when the guitar stopped playing :D - thankfully he issue quickly got solved! - hi Roger, nice to see you back <3 - It's Roger's time to shine! - YEs, Under Pressure! - The Montreal version is gonna be hard to beat, though - Let's see - uu I like Fred's red jacket! - ...do you have any shirt underneath, though? Naughty boi - he does not LOL - "HIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIGH" - let me tell you again...Roger's mic is definitely not turned loud enough - This is great but still, I prefer the Montreal one - That beer always amuses me XD - Freddie, you want us to slap your ass? - Oh no, he's just announcing Fat Bottomed Girls XDDDD - "I was just a skinny lad" the editing team: cuts to the camera angle which shows Brian first and Freddie after him - Roger's "oooh" is funny because he's really into it :D :D :D - Freddie is now a pole dancer, he changed profession - The crowd, always cheering when Freddie gets undressed :P - I sense Crazy Little Thing Called Love incoming! - yes it is Crazy Little Thing! - Freddie's joke about the three guitar cords XDDD - This song always slaps - "she drives me crazYY" - ReAdY fReDdIe - FREDDIE PLS STOP FCKING YOUR GUITAR - this is pretty - BOHEMIAN RHAPSODY YEAH - he sounds so soft :)))) - and now so raw - "Momma UwU" - can't unsee this fricking meme now ajsdhjgdhjds - My favourite guitar solo :')))) - they actually played the video??? - I miss spaniel haired Deaky tbh - *instense drumming* *fireworks* - Oh Brian is wearing this cool shirt he also wore in Montreal! - jumpy Deaky...too bad you can onnly see him from the distance - GONG - that was sexy - Roger hitting that gong in the black outfit is sexier than shirtless Rog hitting the gong, change my mind - TIEE YOUR MOTHER DOWN TIEE YOUR MOTHER DOWN - There's only some 15 minutes left... The time always passes so quickly when I'm watching a Queen concert - Another One Bites the Dust! I've been waiting for thiiiis - Deaky: happy jump - He knows it's his time to shine - wait a second, when did Roger change his shirt? - I need a good closeup - Freddie be like *imma slap my thigh now* - ooo I see Roger's Japanese shirt now! It's pretty cool! - Brian looks great too - Those flashing light are kinda migraine-inducing, thankfully I don't have an aura today - SHEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEER heartattack - Looks like Freddie is flirting with Red Special :P - they're going absolutely crazy XD - WE WILL ROCK YOU DRUMLINE INTENSIFIES - LOL the sombrero on Freddie's head :P - ups mr editor dropped a frame - And now we're truly heading towards the end... I'm gonna start associating We Are the Champions with farewells soon - Well done, boys - I know I say it every single time - But you can't stress this enough - :)))) I'm glad I did this liveblog - They look exhausted but very satisfied :))) - Bye bye!

Next time I’ll be doing Wembley 1986, hopefully soon!

Tagging all the people who expressed their wish to read my ramblings. :) Enjoy!

@his-majesty-king-mercury, @x5vale, @radio-ha-ha, @mephisto92, @39-brian, @melisa-may-taylor72, @silapril, @kitty-rushes-in, @lydiannode, @an-abyss-called-life, @litsy-kalyptica, @importantmuggoophero, I hope I didn’t forget anyone! ^^ Comments are nicely welcome! :3

[ladyplantpots]

Fresh from discord and edited to read better, an AU where Hizashi runs a hair-styling YouTube account, and Shouta comes across it whilst looking up how to braid his adopted daughter Eri’s hair.

Shouta needs to braid Eri’s hair, because dammit she deserves pretty hair and a competent dad able to provide her with cute styles. He scours the internet for videos to follow along, as he’s a hands-on learner, but finds them all dull and confusing. Then he comes across a video from a man who practically yells a welcoming introduction before passionately explaining exactly how to do a simple braid. The man, who calls himself Hizashi, is upbeat, loud, and easy to follow. The ultimate opposite of Shouta, he thinks, but his instructions to braid hair are just so easy to understand, and Hizashi is so damn HAPPY as he braids his own soft and golden hair for the camera. Shouta soon successfully braids Eri’s hair, and her smile is blinding. And then he sees another one of Hizashi’s videos preparing to load. He should DEFINITELY turn it off now. He ends up watching all his videos. The man, Hizashi, is everything Shouta is not. Bright, funny, likeable, confident, and his long blond hair flows all the way down his back at the start of each video, before he decorates it with flowers, or braids it, or sticks it in buns - he always looks so goddamn flawless. Shouta has never been so damn enamoured, and especially with someone so utterly unobtainable. A month after he first finds the channel, he gets drunk with Kayama. Kayama teases him on his obvious crush, and Shouta is annoyed as hell. He doesn’t get crushes. He has no time for them. And anyway, those videos aren’t even hard. He could do his own hair like any of Hizashi’s styles easily.  The night slips away in a blur. What he wakes up to the next day, is a disaster. His hair is a gross mess, he has a killer hangover, and whats that on YouTube? A video of him, filmed by Kayama, drunk, and he’s glaring into the camera and slurring shit like 'stupid hot blonde perfect hair Hizashi, i bet he cant do this with VODKA' as he attempts to knot his own hair into a plait. It’s already went viral as ‘Drunk Guy Destroys Own Hair and Cusses Out Top Beauty Vlogger’ before he can even delete it. Shouta is mortified, and hopes for death. Hizashi has uploaded a new video the very next day. 'I Make Perfect Fishtail Braids Whilst Drunk!' Shouta is mad and definitely not panicking that Hizashi saw his video. Why would he even respond? Was he annoyed? Upset? Did he think Shouta was a total and utter idiot? Hizashi at the end of his video says something along the lines of 'Wow! I guess I CAN do perfect hair with vodka,' and signs off, but not before enthusiastically giving a wink to the camera. Shouta, damn it all, is smitten. Against his better judgement, Shouta uploads another video the next week. He’s gained a mass of followers despite deleting his first and only video, but he refuses to acknowledge them. He doesn’t need this dumb attention. He just needs to prove he ISN’T a drunk moron, and set the record straight. But that new video he uploads, his second ever one, is kind of just.... A rant. And he isn't drunk, but he is extremely, extremely tired after the longest day, and he'd just watched another video of sunshiney Hizashi just being lovely and jolly and perfect. So, Shouta borrows Kayama’s camera, and makes a video. The video shows him surrounded by coffee mugs, and his daughter Eri is in bed so his voice isn't loud, just, annoyed, but, it's all kind of... Hilarious? He has no set plan. He just complains about, 'Stupid sunshine people with stupid hair that isn't THAT pretty dammit and why cant sunshine people be NORMAL and hate life with everyone else?' It lasts 10 minutes, five of which is just Shouta trying not to fall asleep, and some of his hair dips into his coffee when he tries to take a drink just before the video ends. It, again, goes viral, because Shouta is a tired mess and makes zero sense, and the next day Hizashi uploads a new video. 'Doing your hair for non-sunshine folk. A normal boring guide.' In the video, Hizashi greets everyone in a flat, monotone voice, and he's wearing a stark black wig. His happy comments and general fun spark is replaced by thickly manufactured doom-and-gloom, his fingernails painted black and his clothes plain and dull. He then does a perfect set of space buns in the black wig, all whilst giving instructions in a complete and utterly boring drone. At the end of the video, he holds up a coffee cup, and in same unvarying pitch, says 'and remember. Coffee is bad for hair.' before breaking into the biggest, brightest laugh, and giving a cheeky wink. Shouta doesn’t know whether to laugh or cry. And so, Shouta rants again. And Hizashi replies in a timely and fun manner. Shouta tries not to pay attention to the weirdly large following he has gathered, which for some unknown reason has opted to refer to themselves as ‘SleepyHeads’. Hizashi’s own following calls themselves ‘SunRays’. Shouta thinks it’s all completely ridiculous. After almost a solid two months of this back-and-forth via teasing and odd videos, Shouta finds an email in his inbox. No prizes for guessing who from. Hizashi is just as sweet in email as he is in video, and just as witty. Shouta’s crush couldn’t be bigger if he tried. But, the email asks something of Shouta that makes his heart stop. Hizashi asks to do a collab video, in which Hizashi styles his hair for him. Shouta should say no. This is getting way too out of hand, and it won’t help his dumb crush, and it’s just ridiculous to even consider it. Three days later, he’s awkwardly stood in front of Hizashi’s apartment.  And Hizashi? Yup, more beautiful in person than Shouta thought possible, dressed in a cosy mustard-yellow turtleneck, and his hair cascading past his shoulders as his wide grin warmly welcomes Shouta inside. And Shouta, he’s certainly made an effort to be more presentable - he’s wearing his favourite jacket, though it does have a cat face drawn on the front pocket in black marker by Eri, and he’s washed his hair in the most expensive conditioner he could find, in hopes Hizashi doesn’t cringe doing his hair.  There’s not much conversation before the video, Hizashi just gives him the basics of what he wants to happen before pushing Shouta towards his scarily professional setup, in front of an expensive-looking camera. Hizashi is like a precise whirlwind, knowing exactly what to hit next, and soon enough, Shouta is sat in a comfortable high seat, stony-faced and definitely not freaking out as Hizashi leans down and chuckles in his ear, ‘Oh yeah, by the way, we’re doing this show LIVE baby!’ Shouta has no time to object before Hizashi hits a button, and falls into his usual opening spiel. And Shouta? He’s ready to die. Its going to be him, sitting there, live, as Hizashi hates on his gross nasty hair and laughs about what an idiot he was in his videos. He wishes he had never come, he is SUCH an absolute fool, but then he feels a hand on his shoulder, pulling him out of his own head, and there’s Hizashi, smiling softly down at him. ‘Don’t look scared, this will be fun!’ And then, Hizashi is perched behind Shouta, at an angle that the camera can still see him too. Shouta tries not to look at the monitor in front of him, which shows exactly what the camera sees as hundreds of comments fly by.  Suddenly, there’s a brush going through Shouta’s hair, and Hizashi talks as if they’ve done this for years. ‘Now, my dear viewers, this is the infamous Aizawa Shouta, or Vodka King to his SleepyHead fans!’ Shouta cringes, but Hizashi just continues. ‘I have to admit, his first video shocked me! But I mean, who wouldn’t be shocked by such a handsome man not only challenging me, but ruining his own fantastic locks too!’ Shouta freezes, and he wonders if Hizashi notices. Handsome? He thinks Shouta is handsome? He must be joking. But Hizashi continues, loudly and happily, as he brushes Shouta’s hair and reaches for some bobby pins. ‘Doing my own Vodka Hair Challenge was the most fun I’d had in a long time! Though of course, no alcohol if you’re not old like me!’ Hizashi tuts at the camera, quickly pulling his hand away from Shouta’s hair to waggle it at the screen. ‘Anyway! I am just so so lucky to have this hilarious man here, and I can only hope to do justice to all of this gorgeous thick hair! I’m thinking a cute crown plait, and some red flower clips to keep it all in place, because viewers, it would be a CRIME to cover this gorgeous face!’ Shouta’s cheeks are burning. This is not what he expected. But, they’re live, he has to keep his cool, he can’t be dragged along at this loud idiot’s pace or he’ll have a meltdown there and then. So he drily says, ‘The only crime occurring here is the annihilation of my ear drums. You are WAY louder in person.’ Hizashi pauses his brush, and Shouta thinks ‘oh God no I fucked it all up’, before Hizashi is releasing the heartiest laugh Shouta’s ever heard. It’s as if the room moves with him, and Shouta wonders what he wouldn’t give to hear it again. He hopes nobody has picked up the pinkness of his own cheeks. Hizashi’s camera cant be THAT good. From there, Hizashi just talks to Shouta and occasionally the viewers as if it’s the most normal thing in the world, and Shouta quickly finds himself doing the same. Talking to Hizashi is surprisingly easy, and damn it all he’s actually laughing with the man over literally nothing. And then his hair is done. ‘Ta-da!’   Shouta stares at his reflection in the hand-mirror Hizashi hands him. He’s done a good job. A fantastic job. Shouta’s hair is sweeping up into a braid that crowns his head, little bits of hair artfully poking out, staying true to his naturally curly ‘do, and cute red flowers adorn the style - all different shapes and sizes. ‘A beautiful mess’ comes to mind, and Shouta can’t help but feel he doesn’t actually deserve to have hair so nice. Hizashi is silent for once, the camera still rolling, and he’s looking right at Shouta, for the first time looking vulnerable, before he quietly says, ‘Do... You like it?’ And Shouta bits his lip, lowering the mirror, before sighing and genuinely smiling, his expression warm. In that moment, he KNOWS he doesn’t want this man to leave his life, and it’s scary, and it’s illogical, and it’s thrilling. Hizashi’s face is the one that goes red this time, as Shouta speaks up in an undeniably admiring and genuine tone,  ‘It’s absolutely and utterly perfect, you wretched sunshine man.’

[lightsandlostbells]

Druck season 2, episode 4 reaction

I want to thank turtleneck boy because I truly miss the fandom running wild with every detail and coming up with theories, I mean that sincerely. God bless you, sweater man.

Episode 4

Clip 1 - Motto selection 

We have the graduating class looking at mottos. Amira and Leonie are leading the meeting. Leonie sure likes to lead school activities. We also have Mia, Hanna, Jonas, and Matteo in attendance. I really like seeing more school activities, especially since the hero party thing wrapped up last season, and this seems like a particularly German tradition from what I can tell, so it’s a cool thing to include.

Jonas is wearing a fedora today and like, he’s rocking it and twirling it around and stuff, but baby, you gotta be aware of the implications.

They’re picking out a motto, but as Leonie emphasizes with finger quotes, these are “the best” and Amira says none of them are great. “Photoshop-Philipp” put together some examples of the logos. His name is Markus. He’s the theater kid from the first season, with his hair tied back and I never would have recognized him if fandom hadn’t pointed him out.

That dude in the black turtleneck sent us all into conspiracy mode. Initially he was giving me German Even vibes, too. Was this their version of kosegruppa? He smiles when Matteo starts laughing at Photoshop Philipp, and his body language is angled toward Matteo, kinda, could that be a clue??? Why would they give us a random close-up of that guy when Jonas starts talking about CannABIs, when he doesn’t have a line at that moment or anything? Why was he tying his shoe for so long? Surely Druck is trying to tell us something!

Yet apparently it has been confirmed that he is not German Even, but is some random extra who’s been popping up in school scenes. That was a fun few days of speculation, though.

When the cannabis-themed logo pops up, Jonas says that there are some students in this school who are critical of the dangers of smoking weed, and he’s definitely directing that toward Hanna (he looks at her at the end, and Hanna looks over her shoulders and rolls her eyes). Nice bit of passive-aggressiveness there.

Another one is a parody of the alt-right Germany party (AFD) logo. Jonas likes that direction. Some random girl doesn’t like it and doesn’t want to give more attention to the party, but Amira and Mia think it’s funny. You know, kinda cool that these random students are getting a voice this season - like in the classroom debate, or the discussion here. It’s not just the main characters having all the dialogue in these scenes, it makes it feel a little more like an actual school, if that makes sense. (ETA: @randomfinny and @hyperfictional pointed out that she’s actually German Sara. Lol, I never would have recognized her, so thank you!)

I laughed at Jonas and Matteo being lazy in the back of the class. and them both putting their heads down. They’re in sync!

Suddenly there’s Axel walking in! Good thing Kiki isn’t part of this meeting. Did he join just to hang out with Mia? 

I will say this, I am not complimentary toward Alex, but we’ve seen more of a personality from him thus far than with William, imo. He’s been shown to have some political opinions, and this shows a little bit of creativity/initiative on his part. He seems pretty pleased with his design/logo. He thinks it’s pretty gangster.

His logo is Abi Chaker Clan 2019, which is a reference to a family in Berlin with ties to organized crime? It doesn’t mean much to me as a non-German, but I’m going to take that it’s clever. Most of the group seems to like it. Jonas and Matteo approve. Markus doesn’t understand it. He’s like the only one other than Mia who’s not on board, lol. They take a vote, everyone puts their hands up except Mia. Hanna tells her that it’s better than others, so Mia reluctantly raises her hand. Even when she does so, she’s pointedly looking away from Alex.

As they leave, Jonas sticks his fedora on Matteo’s head. Be still my heart.

They’re going to have another meeting on Friday, Alex offers his place. Mia isn’t gonna be happy about that!

I will say this, this is what I wanted for Noorhelm remakes - give them something to work on that isn’t them dating, like a school project or whatever. Although now I’m like … they could have started with this stuff, the graduation committee, and not gotten into the whole renewed Kiki/Alex angle which makes this all messier and more complicated and harder to be on team Alex or team Winterberg. And I get that’s probably what they were going for, throwing more obstacles into the story so Mia still has doubts about being with Alex, but it also means I need that I need certain aspects addressed before I can fully get on board with this ship, and I’m afraid they won’t do that. Or I’m afraid that Mia’s flaws will be addressed but Alex’s will be excused.

That being said, I’m on team Amira with the decision to let Alex into the group. Sometimes you have to put personal feelings aside, and Alex’s involvement will benefit everyone else in the class by making the yearbooks cheaper. And tbh I don’t think it’s right to exclude someone from participating in a school group like this unless they’re actively disrupting the group itself, regardless of how much that person may have wronged me or my friends romantically.

When Mia starts to argue, Amira says that she knows the cost isn’t a big deal to Mia and some others, but other students came to her and said they couldn’t afford it. I wonder if Kiki was one of them… she probably wouldn’t tell that to Amira, though. Not in those words.

This isn’t Amira’s big secret, though, is it? Like Pawel isn’t some dude at the printing company, and she was just trying to keep it under wraps so Mia didn’t find out? I feel like her secret has to be bigger and more personal than that.

The question is, did Alex do this to get on Mia’s good side or to hang out with her? Or is he trying to engage and do something nice without expectations? Because I respect that second one more, obviously.

Amira is so lovely, I truly hope we get her season.

Clip 2 - Alex is hyped for Game of Thrones to return

Mia runs into Alex. She says they need to talk. He smirks and says, “Winter is coming,” and GOD FUCKING DAMMIT that made me laugh out loud. It’s so obvious but I laughed. 

You know, Mia looks a tiny bit like Daenerys Targaryen. 

There’s a shot of them walking down the path thing with the divider in the middle, oooo, ~symbolic. They meet at the end.

Mia tells him to stop grinning, and he says yes, sergeant Winter, and salutes. FUCK OFF that’s the second time I’ve laughed in this clip at this dude. I hate myself. 

She chews him out for becoming a “committing patron” and he’s all “??? I wanted to help??” And I will give this to him, he did actually help out the group regardless of intentions, so maybe let that one slide, Mia, in the spirit of utilitarianism. Then she mentions NYE and the midnight voice message, which he does deserve to be chewed out for.

SOMEONE IS WATCHING THEM. It’s Sam??? Oh shit, she saw them talking! Hopefully she assumes Mia is just yelling at Alex. But she’s going to know Mia and Alex are in cahoots. Will she end up using this against Mia, or will she go to Mia and offer her support when Mia feels like she can’t tell anyone what’s happening?

Clip 3 - Ironing soothes the soul

Mia checks her phone and sees a bunch of messages from people praising Alex’s motto and hyping him up as the man. She gets off the bed, puts on a Chopin record and we are treated to a slow-montage scene of Mia ironing her clothes, including stuff like pajamas and socks, things that do not really need to be ironed if you asked me.

But I like the purpose of this scene! Mia feels out of control and frustrated and helpless with Alex’s inclusion in the group and everybody praising him and talking him up, and on top of it she doesn’t feel in control of her own feelings, so she has this ritual where she puts on music and makes her clothes neat and orderly. She uses order as a coping mechanism. Even the way this is shot makes it feel very precise and serene, the way she goes about this ritual so calmly, the way she smooths down her ironed items, the way the camera moves upward at the end, like all Mia’s anxieties are just floating away. You can just sink into this moment and realize how Mia clears her head.

Also that it’s classical music - something that also feels very orderly. And as we learn later in the episode, Mia can play piano including classical pieces so perhaps she has a strong history with it.

This was something indicated with Noora - for example, she was throwing out and getting rid of stuff once William had left her, and tidying up her room before she was supposed to meet with William prior to him going to London. She was thrown out of balance when Eskild ate her fish cakes. So I like that they’re going into it with Mia, and as others have mentioned it might be another sign of Mia’s ED. (Perfectionism is a common trait in people with eating disorders, and excessive tidiness/need for order is a sign of perfectionism).

Ironing complete, Mia searches for Alexander Hardenberg online. She considers following Alex on IG - too far, girl, he’s gonna take that as a marriage proposal.

Mia’s phone background includes Hans, awww.

She finds various links including one talking about his sister Sophie, who was two years older than he was. There are theories that Sophie will take over the Niko role, but I don’t buy that. For one, Alexander got very defensive over people talking about his “sister” in the classroom debate, and I don’t think he’d care if his sister was a creep. Second, it would be in EXTREMELY poor taste to have the biggest wlw rep on this show be a woman preying on and assaulting another woman, especially as a counter to Mia and Alex’s heterosexual relationship that’s probably going to be True Love. Just. The worst. I wrote this speculation post, but I think Sophie’s probably dead or something bad happened to her. Björn is some dude who was involved in what happened to her.

I don’t know what song this is as Mia is falling into the Alex Hardenberg rabbit hole, but it sounds like classical to me, and it’s like her coping mechanism/mental safe space is getting conflated with this guy.

Hans bursts into the room saying the Mia needs to look at his dick, because he thinks he has an STD, specifically tripper (gonorrhea) and he needs her to compare with some picture online. OK, I have to say, I have never ever heard that term for gonorrhea before. I’ve only heard it called the clap. Did Druck just teach me something? Yes, it did.

I have to praise Milena’s reactions here, they are restrained but suitably horrified.

Hans exposes his junk to Mia and she notes that yeah, it looks similar to the picture. He storms out and yells his fury to the heavens. When Mia asks if she should go to the pharmacy for him, he says he needs a chamomile tea first. LMAO. I feel like it was implied Mia would make the tea, right?

Clip 4 - Dingalings

Matteo’s just hanging with the girls as they talk about Hans’ clap, I guess. This child is not in a good state. He doesn’t seem very engaged in this conversation, but then again … would you want to hear about someone’s gonorrhea? 

The girls are like HERE LOOK AT THESE GONORRHEA PICS and Matteo is just sitting there shooting them looks of WTF.

Sam calls it a “dingaling”. It’s nice to know she uses the same euphemism as my mom. She wants to know what a “gay penis” looks like, compared to a straight penis, I guess. Babe, you can go onto the Internet and find that out with a few clicks.

I laughed again at Matteo giving this side-eye to the girls while he looks at something on his phone. Or him nervously looking at them while they talk about what gay penis looks like.

Matteo picks up a banana as Sam asks about his dingaling. Druck going for that subtle symbolism, I see.

Sam asks Matteo how he measures dingalings, and he’s like, “...what?” There’s a nice moment where Hanna and Mia react and Mia tries to change the subject and divert attention from Matteo, in case this gets into uncomfortable territory for him. I liked that! Different from Eva and Noora having a fun time with Isak’s mysterious sexuality.

However, Sam really wants to know. Matteo mumbles that you do it with a ruler and Sam immediately gets out that ruler like she’s prepared to put this into practice. Not at the table, darling. Matteo isn’t even looking at them as he explains the rest.

Sam writes down “only when it’s hard” and underlines it, like she’s taking notes and this will be on the final exam for Dingalings 101.

Matteo sees Jonas walk in, and Matteo waves him over, probably thinking OH GOD SAVE ME, but Jonas just backtracks out of the room. NOOOOOO. I saw people think he was mad at Matteo, but I thought he was trying to avoid Hanna, which was confirmed in a text. If he and Matteo had a tiff, Matteo probably wouldn’t be waving him over so chill, unless he didn’t know Jonas was mad at him.

Matteo is not even looking at Hanna when she asks if Jonas has someone, just at his phone. What is he so engrossed with on his phone? Is it something specific or just generic sad teenage disengagement? Is it just him being one of The Youths?

Matteo waited until Sam left to tell Hanna that Jonas waits for her to post stuff on IG, IDK if there was a reason he waited. And there wasn’t any real reason Sam had to get up and leave during this scene, so is it at all important? Unless they just wanted the three sadsacks at the table together for the end of this clip, and Sam is not sufficiently angsty about her love life right now.

But Matteo tells Hanna that Jonas doesn’t have a new girl, he waits around for her to post new IG stories. Hanna is confused why, and Matteo is like, why does someone spend an entire evening stalking someone? Ohhh, damn. Mia is gonna feel that comment resonate uncomfortably.

Also, nice of Matteo to help out Hanna and Jonas’ relationship instead of snaking on her. As far as we know. (I think he’s being nice, not a snake this time.)

In case we didn’t get the connection, Axel texts Mia if she prefers wine or beer, for the yearbook meeting tomorrow, I guess. Checking in to see what she likes, her preferences. 

We see Mia, Matteo, and Hanna at the table, all of them a little out of sorts. Mia thinking about Axel, Hanna thinking about Jonas, Matteo thinking about … something ... or someone … dude is very busy on his phone.

Clip 5 - After party at Axel’s

Mia brushes her teeth before going over to Alex’s - I guess that’s supposed to be her showing interest in him? A sign that she wants to be at her best? Or, you know, a sign that she practices good oral hygiene. 

Hanna texts her and hopes she’s coming soon, because Hanna doesn’t want to be there alone because of Jonas. Damn, kids, you’re really tearing my heart out about this. Get back together already!

Axel texts Mia that she doesn’t need to bring a toothbrush because he has a new one ready for her. Well, that’s rather presumptuous. Mia seems a little amused, though.

She locks herself out of the apartment and texts Hans about it. Hans will be back at midnight to let Mia in. Also the tripper situation is still causing him pain and he stole money from his sick aunt to pay for medicine? Hans is so much more of a mess than Eskild was, like he’s going to have to evolve fast if he’s going to adopt Matteo.

This next part is beautiful, as we cut between Mia getting on the bus and traveling to Alex’s house, and shots of the characters looking into the camera as someone reads the comments about them. Isn’t this kinda like those character descriptions from pre-season? That promo stuff? So maybe it wasn’t just for promo, but an overall theme of the season, about the labels we stick on people or the shallow ways we perceive them.

Hanna - Gets bitch, red devil, arrogant. Who called Hanna a bitch?? Red devil?? Get the fuck out. Ex-BFF is from Leonie. Someone calls Hanna the “best decision of my life” and I think that was probably Jonas, please take that dagger out of my heart, oh my God.

Amira - Gets “hijab” like 8 times. So sad that this is all people know about her or think about her. They see the hijab and think that’s the sum total of who she is, rather than part of it. And it’s also othering, because the hijab stands out, it’s different from everyone else. I feel like Amira is used to it, too, like she probably expected that response. She also gets called ISIS. Man, fuck that edgy piece of shit person who wrote that. At least she gets some other comments like how she’s cool, like the people who actually know her and don’t stereotype her or judge her think she’s the best.

Matteo - Basically he’s a chill bro and fades into the background, although one person thinks he’s a good kisser. Hmmm, has he been going around smooching girls like Isak did?

Alex - gets almost all negative comments about how arrogant or jerkish he is, or his car compensating for his lack of dong size, except for some comments about how he’s hot. Look, if you want me to feel sorry about that, how people are just judging him unfairly, you’ve gotta show me more proof that he hasn’t been a major asshole throughout his high school career and this isn’t an accurate assessment of how he’s treated people or behaved this whole time, even if he’s supposed to be a nice guy underneath.

Mia - gets lots of comments on how hot she is, with some about her feminism or being boring. Habibi comes from Amira. Lesbian? Final one is “prettiest woman on earth” which probably was from Alex, honestly, and she seems kinda OK hearing him read that one out loud. (Although my kingdom for those “lesbian?” and “prettiest woman on earth” comments to have both come from like, Kiki.)

Matteo is once again lying on the couch on his phone, checked out. Someone send that kid an Even to bring him to life.

They talk about whether everyone should be able to cross out comments and that they don’t have time to chase everyone down, but I agree with Mia that everyone should be able to censor theirs, not just the committee. Alex agrees with Mia and gives a sensible option, that people have two weeks to contact the staff if they want to censor their comments. He says he doesn’t want to censor his comments because in twenty years he wants to remember what an arrogant ass he was, and everyone laughs, and you can take that as a sign of character growth that he wants to evolve past being an ass, or him thinking it was a fun time rather than something he regrets.

There’s turtleneck boy again. Who isn’t Even, but maybe could be German Julian Dahl. 

Alex ordered pizza and beer, and the meeting gets more like a party. Hanna and Matteo throw pizza at each other and Hanna gives him the finger, cute! Alex arm wrestles Markus the theater photoshop kid. All throughout the evening, Mia seems attuned to Alex’s presence and keeps looking his way. I know that kind of feeling, I’ve been to parties where I was Mia and someone’s presence was like a magnet.

Hanna and Matteo talk in the kitchen about Jonas. Hanna asks where Jonas is, seeing as he’s not at the meeting, and Matteo says he doesn’t know, Jonas wanted to come. Which is a lie seeing as Jonas told Matteo he wasn’t going in a text message that we saw. At least Matteo is trying to spare Hanna’s feelings.

Mia is in Alex’s bathroom, looking at the stuff on the counter. I guess she’s just inspecting his stuff? She opens a jar and it’s overflowing with condoms, lol. I guess Alex got over his “latex allergy” at some point or learned his lesson about not wrapping it up. Maybe he had his own adventure with tripper. (I’m imagining him in his own version of the scene with Hans, wailing and opening his robe to a befuddled Toilet Sam.)

Hans texts her that now he won’t be home until 1. When Mia comes out of the bathroom, everyone else is leaving. Now Mia’s first option is that she could totally leave with her friends and chill with them, and if she’s locked out, she could crash at Hanna’s. But Amira has to study, Leonie has a date, and Hanna is going to the cinema with her dad. (What if Hanna was going to Jonas’ instead ... no, I won’t get entertain that happy delusion.) Anyway, Hanna suggests that Mia just kill time at Alex’s until she can go home.

Mia and Alex look at each other across the room. There is some nice nonverbal tension. The toilet flushes and Markus comes out of the bathroom. Now there are three of them, I like this shot of them in a triangle. Lol, Markus is so drunk he doesn’t know if he puked on himself. He doesn’t know how he broke up the Mia/Alex staring contest.

Alex and Mia look at each other and laugh after Markus leaves, which is a genuinely nice moment. Mia explains her situation and says she’ll go to the cinema or hang out in the park until then. Alex says she could stay and he’ll drive her home later. There’s a funny bit where Mia says he’s not allowed to drive, and Alex says he’ll call his chauffeur, and then does an imitation of Mia’s inner monologue - “Is he that rich? No … or maybe he is?” I do like that they’ve given Alex so much more of a sense of humor.

Lmao, Alex jumping on the random skateboard and gliding across the floor, I have to say if I lived in a big empty place like that, I’d be doing shit like that a lot. Speaking of, that is one big, spacious apartment, like there’s some art on the walls and stuff but it still gives off that cold lonely rich kid vibe.

I like Mia walking around examining the place as he makes her rosehip tea. Alex mentions that his sister used to live here - again, we don’t get more details than that, like whether she moved or died, what happened to her. It seems like he might have cut off that line of inquiry when he asks Mia if she wants honey in her tea - either a coincidence or a deliberate attempt to change the subject.

However, that does throw into context Björn’s appearance in the next clip, because Björn was showing up to the sister’s old apartment. Why was he messing around in there? I think that dude might be the sister’s boyfriend or ex.

There’s a piano. In that same room are a lot of moving boxes; either because Alex was moving in, or because the sister was moving out. Or maybe they were packing up Sophie’s things because she died?

Mia asks him whether he plays or whether it’s there to impress girls. Alex says no, so I’m betting it was the sister’s piano. He also asked whether they should go sit in the other room to drink the tea, I think that he didn’t want to answer questions about the piano or be near it, like it probably reminds him of whatever happened to the sister.

Gold star to Mia for not playing without payment and for not negotiating. I love her.

Was that the theme music from Titanic she was playing and acting like she was really into?? Lmao.

Finally, she plays something legit, “Montagues and Capulets” (or “Dance of the Knights”) from the ballet Romeo and Juliet by Prokofiev. HMMM could there be any connection to star-crossed lovers with this subject matter? Hey, it’s subtler than a banana.

At first I was wondering why her playing seemed out of sync and was like ... did they get a body double to play for her or something? Because I think Milena can really play. But then we see that it’s intentionally out of sync, as we see them eating and talking over the music. Perhaps to symbolize things being out of sorts; earlier this clip we had Mia using classical music as a way to restore order in her life, and here that order is rapidly dissolving, so the music isn’t really soothing, and the images aren’t neatly in line with it. 

When Alex asks what song that was, Mia says it’s Drake. L M A O I adore her.

Hans texts Mia that he’s not coming home tonight as he’s met some other dude with gonorrhea and they’re going to hook up. Er, have fun with that, Mr. Currently Peeing Shards of Glass. Anyway, he asks if she can stay at Hanna’s. Alex says Mia can just stay there, she can take the bed and he’ll take the sleeping mat. Mia asks why doesn’t he just sleep on the couch and he says the fridge is too loud. We are treated to the sounds of the thunderous fridge. Actually, it is pretty loud for a fridge, if you’re sensitive to that kind of thing I can see it being a problem.

He says she can rent his bed for the night, like in a hotel. Which is what seems to convince her, him framing it not like a benevolent gesture but a transaction. So Alexander sets up the bed for Mia. He gives the new toothbrush that he had mentioned, and she pays him back what he gave her.

Mia climbs into bed and smells the fresh linen. She checks her phone and Hans says that Emilio finished fast so he’s coming home, and Hanna says Mia can come over. But Mia pulls an Isak, telling Hanna that Hans is home and Hans that she’s with Hanna. Wow, there is no chance of that backfiring, not with these two people who appear to be on friendly terms.

They don’t share a bed as Noorhelm did; true to his word, Alex sleeps on the floor, and she gets the bed. I think that’s indicative of where they’re at with each other right now; they still have distance between them, but they’ve developed a state of comfort and can let down their guard to a degree.

They wish each other good night, and she calls him Axel. That makes him smile. And then he asks that that wasn’t really Drake, was it? Which makes her smile. Let him go to his grave thinking it was Drake, Mia.

Social Media/General Comments

I’ll say this, Chris Veres is doing well as Alex, performance-wise. Previously he was my least favorite William, and I thought he was very flat in S1, which I guess was intentional, since I heard he tried to play Alex as very cold and unfeeling. Now we’ve seen him showing more personality and especially glimpses of humor and levity. So regardless on my thoughts of the character overall, I think the actor is doing a fine job. 

A lot of people seem to have hopped on board with Alex after this episode, even people who hated William, and I think that largely has to do with the performance. I’m not sure I would say I’m completely on board with Alex as a character - he still has a lot of stuff to account for, and there are things that I really need Druck to redeem about him in order for me to like him. I especially need apologies - or at least some sense of regret and humility over his specific mistakes, rather than him trying to defend himself and Mia falling for it. But I get why fandom is starting to like him, he’s showing more charisma here. There are things I certainly like about him compared to William, for instance that he seems to have more interests and opinions on things that don’t have to do with his love interest. He had some genuinely funny lines in this episode. 

Also, I’ve said it before, but I wasn’t sold on Mia entirely in S1, but Milena Tscharntke is really winning me over this season. Mia feels like her own character, certainly one with traits in common as Noora, but also not a Noora clone. 

Kiki was totally absent this episode, and I wonder if that was to lull us into forgetting the Kiki/Alex drama so we, like Mia, could start to fall for him. In putting Kiki aside for an episode, it’s kind of like we don’t have this reminder of what Alex and Mia have done to her, something that I’m sure will come crashing back and causing conflict in the next episode. It also makes you wonder what Kiki has been doing since we last saw her. How is she coping? Breaking more hearts?

The music needs to be used more sparingly. This episode had some good selections but basically it’s falling into a pattern that’s plagued some of the remakes, where the music always gets used the same way: a song at the start of the clip, a song at the end of it, so that it starts to lessen the impact of the music because we can predict when it will appear. I think it happens in some remakes, like Skam France or Druck, because they run some previews/production credits at the end, and they want music to go over it instead of silence. But last season I think they did have some clips that ended with silence over the credits, or things like Hanna sighing, or random banter, and that didn’t bother me, that helped to retain the atmosphere of the clip. 

There’s a theory that S3 and/or S4 have been running in the background of this season, and while I can see evidence for that, I really hope it’s not the case. Especially after this last clip - I thought it was great, the pacing worked and there were some inspired directing choices, so imagine what we could get with Matteo or Amira’s seasons with that kind of style. It would work so well with one of the long Evak or Yousana clips, something like Mekke øl or The Best of Islam.

Mia is like, “Won’t we get in copyright trouble for this?” as a feeble attempt in the committee chat not to pick Alex’s motto, lol. Give her credit for fighting a losing battle to the end.

Hans had like three text messages about his clap. First he accuses a dude of infecting him with the clap, while the dude is like, nah, just went to the doctor yesterday, I’m good, and Hans is like … oops … embarrassing. Then he goes after the next dude he banged, who reciprocates his electronic shouting match. Finally messages Michi, who’s like, thank God, I thought you were breaking up with me again. Dude. Hans. I know you find Michi a bore, I guess, but some dude whose reaction to hearing he has the clap is “at least you didn’t break up with me” to the dude who gave it to him, is someone you might wanna hang on to. And not in a boomerang way, in a “this is a keeper” way.

Matteo and Jonas text and apparently Jonas planned to skip the yearbook meeting/party because of Hanna. So that’s probably why he ran away in the dingaling clip, because he saw Hanna there. I’m wondering if they’re going to get back together this season or if they’ll string us along for a few more.

According to Matteo’s IG stories, that was the first time Photoshop Philipp/Markus got drunk, and Matteo made sure to document the highs, followed by the inevitable lows.

I’m not German, so feel free to correct me if I missed anything.

If you got this far, thank you for reading!

[dylanobrienisbatman]

Rewatch: Episode 1x08, Day Trip

Some of our best commentary from our rewatch 

Why does Clarke mention never having ‘floated in the water’ in her little monologue? it seems weird. Like not, felt the breeze in her hair, or seen plants, or felt the grass on her feet? Bri got us thinking about this. 

Bellarke was a perfect ship and then Clarke went bonkers and ruined it all. 

We got strangely into the minutia this week. 

Bellamy sitting there staring at Lincoln, the GUILT in his face. god, we love our sad son. 

Why does Miller get that job, telling parents their kids died?

Bri just reminded us to mention how pretty s1 Bellamy is. Very important

Miller getting head butted is so fucking funny. 

Where did they get a camera, for that video chat?? 

Bri said probably the art supply store lol

Always all up in the Jonty feels during s1. 

We’re all so pumped for High Jonty

Shumway is the fucking worst. 

Octavia is such a petulant child, we love it. S1 Octavia gets to be a part of Pettykru. 

Her little “why do you even care, if i ruined your life”... man, siblings. 

Bellamy is such a grumpy boy. He needs to find a book and chill out. 

Elyse said he’s grumpy because there are no books. 

We love our Grumpy Boy™

Bellamy Blake, at it again with the iconic lines

Seeing Monty just makes us sad

EW RAVEN FINN SEX IS THIS EPISODE. 

Raven bby leave him you deserve so much better. 

Finn needs to stop being stressed about Clarke when his peRFECT GIRLFRIEND RAVEN REYES IS RIGHT THERE. 

Octavia asks Lincoln “its good right” when she giving him a drink. Babe.. Honey.. its WATER. he has definitely had it before. 

Elyse reminded us that she was never properly socialised. We will give her a pass. 

The line about Bellamy being a dick always makes me laugh, its so true. I love my dickhead son. 

A Necessary™ shot of Ricky Whittles Abs. 

Octavia taking responsibility for something? are we hallucinating? did WE ingest jobi nuts? 

Octavia being Petty again, but Raven is such an adult. 

Why are Raven and O always best friends in fics? like obviously no shade on any fic writer your stuff is always amazing everyone, but the show never really digs into that friendship, far as we can remember. They actually kind of actively dislike each other for a while.

I said i wanted to Vom about finn, and Elyse told me to drown him with it. So thats gross.

RAVEN GET AWAY FROM HIM YOU DESERVE BETTER. 

Clarke talking about the dirty bunker, such a princess

Bellamy is so grumpy about the blankets? like dude. Chill. 

He DOES chill, almost immediately, upon finding guns. the nerd. He’s like a kid on christmas. that smile is blinding. 

High Jonty is the best Jonty tbh. 

Monty is such a calm stoner. Just wants to hug the Earth. 

The camera angles used in this to show us that they’re all high is so cool. 

this is such an awesome episode all around. 

THE ANTI GROUNDER STICK. 

Octavia definitely only knows slang because her entire socialisation is a bunch of teenage criminals. 

Miller definitely doesn’t have siblings because if he did he would have never ever trusted those nuts Octavia gave him. His lack of suspicion is entirely because he doesn’t have a sister. 

INTENSE keysmashing over the bellarke gun shoulder touch. THROWN BY THE INTIMACY OR SOMETHING RIGHT?!?! 

They banter like an old married couple “we NEED to do this” “No we NEED to do that” lol. 

WHy couldn’t bellamy have a nice happy trip like Monty. poor sad boy. 

The difference in everyone’s trip was really awesome as a narrative choice

How is Clarke not MORE messed up after a year in solitary. 

okay we all love the ‘i can’t change the tide’ line, but i never noticed that when he comes into Finn and Raven’s tent, he starts with “Is the moon in here?” lmfao monty is an angel 

Raven making finn come out because everyone is so high is so funny. 

Clarke is so YOUNG. Like sometimes we all forget how young she was in the first season. Shes literally 17, season 1 doesn’t even go a whole month and in episode 1 she says she doesn’t turn 18 for another month. 

She just misses her dad, its so sad. 

They’re all just kids! Even Bellamy is only like 22/23 which is just about our age. 

Clarke being such a Teenger™ to her halucinated!Dad is so funny 

Okay but actually how old is Lincoln supposed to be? 

I have made Bri reevaluate the entirety of Linctavia. 

“The most beautiful broom, in a broom closet, of brooms” and then the kid just sort of hums at her. What a great Raven line. @the-most-beautiful-broom we miss you <3 

On first watch we were definitely all nervous that Lincoln wouldn’t get away. This is one of Finn’s few good moments. 

Elyse pointed out that Finn is like two separate characters, and Bails (no surprise) mentioned how they talk about that a lot in the @metastation podcast, about how they just sort of attribute random traits to Finn to fit his plot line. Go listen to the podcast, especially for s1. 

Jaha’s line “You want the peace of death” is so intense and well delivered. 

Bell saves Clarke, Clarke saves Bell, they save each other, they forgive each other, god s1 Bellarke is so alsdhfinsakldmjsdkjfh

Bullet to the neck Bell? *Jake Peralta Voice* Smort

Augh the forgiveness scene

Forgiveness... can you imagine. Hamilton references are always necesary. 

Bellamy is SO SAD AUGH. 

He just wants to be the man his mom raised him to be (our thoughts on aurora blake are... not so positive but its still super sad.) 

We all just wanted to cry because Bell is so so sad. 

Can they please ACTUALLY parallel the forgiveness moment in s6, and not this half assed shit they did at the end of s5? because thats not forgiveness. 

God these babies need a nap. 

Monty the Pine Cone Eater

“They’ll kill us” “Or Worse!” Okay, random kid... whats Worse? exactly? 

That synchronised Power Couple Strut™ and dropping of the guns, the epic power couple speech. Iconic.

Bellamy definitely made them practice this before they went in. “No clarke, you gotta say it like this”. He’s a Drama Hoe. We love our Drama Hoe. 

For real though, even with all the problems they have later, the way they actually write the Blake Siblings is so good. They feel like real siblings. There are a lot of shows that write siblings that you can just tell the writer doesn’t have siblings and didn’t ask anyone’s advice. But the Blakes have that dynamic of like “I’ll definitely kill you, but if anyone else says a bad word about you, I’ll kill THEM.” They have this petulant back and forth, but its always sort of underlined with this deep love. The writers know how to write a sibling relationship. Even when it becomes abusive and terrible later, that sort of weird dynamic is still there. Problematic, but the dynamic is well done. 

Finn is so high up on his own pedastal. Bellamy tortured Lincoln to SAVE YOU. How are you gonna shit all over him for it. How are you gonna question him like that. 

Clarke saying she trusts Bellamy is so lakdhjflsjhafkd;sa

Finn is such a fucking tool. 

The whole scene where Bellamy and Clarke talk to Jaha is so amazing

The scene where Diana kills shumway is intense. 

Kills: Bellamy: 1 Diana Sydnee: 1  Attempts:  Dax: 1 

“How many times did we talk about hating Finn” Tally: 6

Countdown till Raven meets Zeke: 6 years 6 months and 15 days, 56 episodes.

Times Bailey mentions the @metastation podcast (because she has a problem):  2

Times Octavia takes actual responsibility: 1 

How many times we called Octavia Sneaky: 5

Times Clarke’s Canon love interest is jealous of her relationship with Bellamy: 1

Countdown to Finn’s Death: 26 days, 13 Episodes  

 @granger--danger @raven-reyes-of-sunshine

[lettertothedead]

To Me, if I Succeeded

It was a bitter cold October in an unheated apartment at the corner of Ramsey and Kathleen. Snow had arrived before Halloween this year, something that you were informed was quite common in Northern Idaho. If not for their warnings, you wouldn’t have expected it. Like always, you were a newcomer to this town. You had no expectations and you didn’t have much of a choice in the matter. Like a discarded doll, you had let them place you here. You were seventeen years old.

The last four years had been spent in and out of rehabilitation, traveling through Utah, Texas, and California. Perhaps that's why time meant so little to you, and space even less. While most teenage girls took this particular span of time to experiment with identity, you had never really gotten the chance to create your own. You had spent the entirety of high school as a traveler, always the new girl in every school, thoroughly examined by your peers until diagnosed as normal. You had learned to act, had learned to be quiet and pliable. You were a passive bystander to your own life.

Of course, the implication of having a life never fit on you either. You spent high school in a variety of different houses, apartments, and wards, but you never had a home. A home implied a seat by the fireplace, family game nights, petty quarrels with your brothers and sister. By the age of sixteen, you forgot what your parents looked like between their visits. You saw them once a year, if that, the imprint of those visits on your psychology lessening every time. One day, you realized that you had not been raised by your parents, or anyone. You had simply sprouted. You were a weed.

For the brief time you spent in psychiatric care in Texas, between guardians, you were allowed a ten minute phone call with each of your siblings. It struck you then, how gentle they were with you, as if they had been told you were fine china or a feral dog. They didn’t prod you or tease you over the phone, they simply talked in slow, quiet voices. This was your identity.

At the turn of the nineteenth century, at the advent of tools like the bicycle, the telephone, the camera and the expansion of the railway, the meaning of time and space shifted. It rattled in its grave before dying entirely, taking Europe with it. It was beautiful, they said, an Englishman could travel to the continent in mere seconds by telephone call. His world suddenly stretched around empty space, light and color blinding him from all angles. The fierce white Russian winters, hot red Spanish summers. Things that the masses could have only shaped with the written word and imagination became vivid reality.

Humans, confused and frightened in shoes too big to fill, stuffed the void where space and time had once been defined with war. I remember sitting in my Modern Poetry lecture in college learning so much about the human impact of such inventions, through the eyes of other writers. I was effectively wearing the skin of Walt Whitman looking out on bountiful, diverse America in all of her hopeful, brutal glory. I remember reading old poetry zines, published in 1919. War, having squashed creatives under his angry boots, milked them for their lifeblood. That’s what we get for trying to play God, by the way, a lot of dead people and some really great writing to add to the portfolio of human suffering.

In the 21st century, narrowness does not exist. Our minds have been stretched so far around space and time that they are aching. The only cavities still left full are the locked perspectives of our neighbors and the vein-like missed opportunities that twist out of our past selves. And we are still probing them. I don’t believe objective truth comes when all space and time has been shed like lizard skin. I want to hold onto something concrete and grounded, even though I know you never believed in it. I hold on so tightly to God, using words I think you can understand to describe his majesty. Then again, you were always cynical.

In a 1952 Dublin lecture hall, Erwin Schrödinger told the crowd that, mathematically, they were inconsequential. He said that the suspension of different histories, the possibility of different realities, were "not alternatives, but all really happen simultaneously". He warned the listeners that this was lunacy and I believe he was right. I know you would think of me as a zealot for believing that some stones should not be turned over, but God’s shoes are too large for you, and me, and Dr. Schrödinger. Then again, you never went to college.

Here’s a laundry list of things you never did. You never looked in the mirror and saw a woman. You never pulled your own strings. You never sat passenger while Tyler drove you to the Safeway parking lot, talking God, and life, and love over cigarettes and The Pixies. You never quit smoking. You never fell in love with anything but yourself, and her reflection in other women. You never learned how to stop being a pendulum between love and hate, happiness and sadness, chest-tightening fear and total calm and by that, I mean you never conquered addiction. You never had the confidence to publish your poetry. You never fell into another person and had them bear your entire weight without faltering, like you would do for them. You never walked down the aisle wearing your mother’s dress and watching your father cry with joy. You never forgave your parents for fucking you up, and you never let them forgive themselves. You never lived to see eighteen.

The crinkled leaves make me wistful and leave me wanting. I live here still, not because of someone placing me, but because I love it. I wouldn’t want to leave. Last year, I graduated college and this year, I’m going to get married. The snow hasn’t fallen yet and it’s already January, but I suspect that has more to do with climate change than divine providence.

My savior was a girl I’ll likely never see again, and I don’t even see her as my savior. She was the Anyman, the good Samaritan. The weight of savior is too heavy for a stranger so instead I am just grateful that time and space lined up to help me, despite the fact that I had forsaken them.

On the ride to the hospital, my vision was blurred, I was slipping in and out of consciousness, humming to the radio under my breath. I could feel myself dying, the pills aching in my stomach as my head knocked against the window. I crashed into the threshold. The driver kept trying to make conversation desperately, bless his heart, trying to keep me with him as he sped past fast food restaurants and neon, the landmarks of this physical body. The radio was loud. I still listen to that station sometimes.

Once I was there, they put tubes in my body and fed me charcoal. I remember thinking vaguely that I had ruined my nicest panties when I shat black and vomited black on my winter coat. It didn’t cross my mind until later how funny such a thought is, when you’re dying, and you’re only thinking about your name brand underwear, the only pair of name brand underwear you own. In the psych ward, I watched Signs on VHS no less than three times as I tried to drown out the screaming child with schizophrenia. I missed the adult ward by a month.

You never lived to see eighteen. You never lived to meet your best friend or the love of your life, to travel to Prague as I did last summer, and stand on the edge of a Tesco cart, picking out cheese that only cost a few cents. You never lived to grow old, to remake the construct of family and home, build a fireplace with your bare hands and prove you are more than fine china. Somewhere inside of your rotting corpse, there lives a dragon. You never lived to get it out. To hell with the other timelines, I am a dragon and I’m here to burn them down.

Some choose to worship the emptiness, the stretch of free will that enables us to bomb or run or smoke or scream at the top of our lungs that we are the highest power in the world. Some worship the erosion of consciousness and meaning that comes with a many-tiered reality, a multiverse where simultaneously, I am you and me, dead and alive, free and in chains. There is no right or wrong in this fog and snow, there is no meaning in this endless winter.

I worship the unknown, the workings of time and space that pushed together so that she would find me lying half-dead on the bed, fingers loosely wrapped around a bottle of pills. So call me a zealot, I am worshiping my purpose. I am paying back this mortgage on my tiny inconsequential life, with every shred of hallelujah. I am relishing my existence.

[lollytea]

Make something.

"When life gives you lemons," is a fun phrase. It's go getter-y, endlessly optimistic. 

But the frustrating part is when you're TRYING to make lemonade but it can only drip drop drip out into a few blops of watery dribble. And its a moldy green. Lemonade is not supposed to look like that.

When life gives you good emotions, its self explanatory. Its useful. Gets shit done. But when you're being leeched from the inside with the bad feelings, you can't produce lemonade. You try but it's never good lemonade.

The only good use for being slumped is making something out of it. Like those writers did in your old school poetry book. Scraping the barrel so you can mass produce words into flowing and "thought provoking" prose, inspired by that concept of a tortured artist's angst. 

Its not like you're a tortured artist though. Not even close. You've always imagined their feelings as more....dynamic than yours.

You see the Great herself who somehow never struggles to find her vocabulary as she weaves the words together to describe what her turmoil is in a way that sways your insides like a cradle.

You see a man hunched with curled fingertips over a bleeding canvas. He's screaming for some unfathomable reason. Probably a part of his process. You really don't understand.

But you can't find those words like they can. You're not nearly as cinematic either. You don’t exist to be considered complex or to be fixed into artistic poses. You exist in order to walk the dog in the mornings, the cold air making you feel sick but only mildly so.

Your fat little face isn't wrung in any kind of angst right now. Its barely focused on the world at all, zonked out and gormless looking as usual, unresponsive to the way life blurs. The moderate amount of dizziness.Your brain is some kind of faulty digital camera. You can't capture anything that's not through a fuzzy lens.

It's quiet and it's anti-climactic and you can't word it in a way that sounds poetic. Because there's nothing poetic about it. It's not inspiration, it's a nuisance.

You can't make something out of this.

You like to think you don't feel anything. But that's not necessarily true. You're 70% numb but there are still those feelings that gnaw persistently until they break through the core and then you break apart.

You're anxious, that's usually what it is. It's an urgent kind of indecisiveness that hops between a crossroads, deciding whether or not you want isolation or to hear a friend say your name again. Its awful when you decide on both, becoming a floating head with a transparent disconnect.

You're no fun when you're like that.

You don't know to handle friends in a way that's both affectionate and indifferent. You can't risk getting upset if you get cut off. You've been left without warning before and you will be left without warning in future. You've decided you need to be mentally secure if that happens again. You need to be ready to convince yourself it wasn't that big a deal in the first place.

But even as batshit bizarre as you are, you know that's no way to live. You can't keep them fully at arm's length and you shouldn't and you WON'T. You need to love them for the sake of your own happiness. And theirs too. Because even in the indeterminate time they're in your life, they matter.

And you're anxious BECAUSE they matter.

You talk too much. You talk not enough. You can never figure out the right amount to talk and either way, it feels like you're doing it wrong. You like to let them do most of the talking but maybe that's not what you're meant to do either. Maybe that just sucks away at what little of a person you already are. You don't like to accidentally talk over anyone. It's never anything important you have to say.

You hope that you'll talk more when you're older. Or at least speak and not bother anyone.

You hope you'll have friends when you're older too.

But you own uncertainty just plays across as a riot inside your own head. It's messy. It's complicated. And it's so, so tired.

You can't make something out of that either.

You're bad at eating. Which is hilarious in its own right. One of the most basic tasks a human can possibly do in order to function and you're bad at it.

When you were a kid, being hungry was the worst way to feel. You couldn't cope with it. You would whine and whinge to be fed and then you were fed. And you would eat.

You ate too frequently, actually. In fact, you can't help thinking about what sixteen year old you would think of your current weight. She'd be ecstatic.

You probably wouldn't even have the patience to deal with her. You'd be too pissed that she was talking about your weight in the first place.

You'd tell her to shut up. It wasn't the way you wanted her to accomplish this. Because even if you reached it, you feel gross and guilty for what you do in your slumps. The idea that she'd be so happy about it makes your skin crawl.

Black Market Dieting.

The stomach groan lasts for days sometimes until it subsides when it realizes its plead is being ignored. You hate it. And you don't hate the way it feels, you hate that it's become an addicting way to feel.

And now you're afraid of weighing scales. You don't like that they know so much about you. You don't like hearing what they have to say. They're not alive, sure, but during this point in your life, no living person can give you worse news.

The eating problem is a stale situation, at best. It's not intense nor interesting nor can it be viewed from any alternative angles or metaphors. Because it's just a problem of yours. It's just uncomfortable to deal with on a day-to-day basis.

Can't make something out of that.

You use "Unlovable" a lot easier now. You say it in your head a lot. Which is a big development, considering that word used to scare you. You don't use it in an overtly anguished sense but in a resigned sort of way. Childishly bitter though. 

Its a thought that has set itself permanently into your subconscious. You don't slink away from it anymore. Though you're still beyond terrified, you sit still in it and accept.

You haven't decided on your final excuse just yet but by god, you have a plethora of them. What is it today, huh? Too sad? Too shy? Too boring? Too mean?

Sometimes it's that you're not smart enough or funny enough or SOMETHING enough. There's some kind of barrier and while you haven't pinpointed the exact flaw yet(maybe it's all of them.) something is certainly stopping you from trying.

You can't connect easily either. A fucking puzzle piece with some weird shaped grooves. Not a lot of people can attach themselves to it. You can barely make FRIENDS so how in the name of FUCK are you supposed to find-.....

And maybe, above all else, you're just afraid of them realizing their mistake. You hate being someone's mistake.

And of course, there's the obvious thing as to why you refuse to get anywhere in that regard. Another aspect in which you're "faulty."

You don't really like the word "Broken." It feels overdone. A little deviantart diary-esque for your own liking. Using faulty makes it sound like less of a problem. Like it's just a few glitches that won't cause any major inconveniences. 

Though you're not really sure if it's only just that.

You don't even know if you're proud of it like you try to pretend you are.

Like a bicycle with one training wheel. It's not necessarily a big problem to you. You can ride just fine on your own. It's them that aren't a big fan and would prefer if you were a little less wonky. Not that there's anything WRONG with you per say, they just can't imagine themselves with...you know.

And you understand. And you CAN do that. Obviously if you loved them, you would screw on the extra wheel for them. You'd try to fix whatever they wanted. You can adapt.

But what kind of delusional idiot goes around advertising a faulty bicycle that only CAN be repaired, if there's so many shiny, perfectly four wheeled bikes down the line.

They're not expected to screw the extra wheel in. It's already there and ready to go at a moment's notice. They can just as easily be purchased with zero of the hassle that comes with you.

So why bother exactly?

That's why you use Unlovable a lot now. Or at least why you're more accustomed to using it. You're all puberty-ed out so i guess you know some stuff for certain now. You've had a lot of time to think about it.

You're in a slump now. Another one. You forget when you got out of the last one and slipped into this one. You know there's a word for it but it's one you prefer not to use. At least when referring to yourself.

It's just slumps. Slumps are like being made of molasses. You do nothing, feel either too little or too much, drone like a librarian and the clock fingers whirl like pinwheels.

Sometimes you worry about slumps. What if they're not slumps at all. They happen too frequently that you could potentially call them your default state. Maybe the real "slumps" are the happier times in-between.

You don't do much of what you're good at when you're in slumps. Which is unfortunate considering you're only good at one thing.

And sometimes you're not good at what you're good at. Honestly, you don't know who decided you were good in the first place. It was probably you. You, saying you were going to be a writer and your family took your word for it that you were talented.

They always say you're good but you've never let them read anything of yours. It baffles you why they continue to say it. Support, you suppose.

But if you're really only good at what you're good at 1/8th of the time, can you really say you're good at all? It's such a small fraction of your time and energy. It can't be done most of the time. Sometimes, you just get lucky.

You can't even make something now. Despite the fact that you know you have to try.

But even with all that, you're still so much of an insufferable writer that there are some terms you refuse to say, even when writing closure vomit like this.

"I hate myself." Tired.

"Useless," Old.

"Worthless." No. No, that just doesn't work either. When you go yelling into the void, you're trying to not use the overused words. You want to acknowledge that you can at least see it from a logical standpoint instead of an old chicken scratch diary one.

You're obviously not above that but you're pretentious and like to believe you are.

You want to be taken seriously. Even when you're so obviously losing your mind, you want it to seem like your head is still on your shoulders.

You've incited multiple eye rolls already and you can live with that. It's what happens when you put an essay this long and this rambly on a public platform. An attention seeking post if you ever saw one.

But all you wanted was to write something. And during a time like this, its all you can write. All you can think about. Your objective is not to be told everything will be alright. If that was the case, you wouldn't be writing it all out to clear your head and fix it on your own.

It is solely to have your current headspace read, self dissected and understood and then it can all be ignored.

Like writing letters in paper airplanes. Throwing them to the wind and hoping someone out there hears you.

Because attempting to write about why you can't write is the most productive thing you can do in that scenario. You made some shitty lemonade but it's better than nothing.

And for the love of fucking God, let's hope that you will eventually make something.

[lovesickjily]

Cuffed

Summary: Lily wonders, as she stares at the messy-haired man currently handcuffed to her bedpost, if this bizarre situation could be considered as kidnapping.

FFN or AO3

inspired by a dream that i literally forget the events to lol

If she were to be asked how the heck she got into this situation, Lily supposed that it all started with an email. One, simple little mistake of an email.

Who even used emails nowadays? Texting was a completely acceptable alternative, and unless one wanted to send a lengthy message, or, in some cases a virus to those that they hated, emails were extremely unnecessary. Of course, Lily was completely biased, because she’d had literally no problem with sending them until today, when she’d gotten an email from James Potter.

Tall, dark, and handsome, with hair so wild that it just exudes sex vibes, and god, not to mention those lovely honey-colored eyes of his framed behind dark glasses that brought more attention towards his pretty face, it was no surprise that Lily didn’t at all have a problem with the man, not when he looked like that. She’d open up anything from him, an email being just one of such, and  it seemed friendly enough, saying:

Hello, Lily!

I’m James Potter, if you don’t know me, and I’m attaching a rough draft from what I’ve got so far concerning this month’s issue. Sorry that it’s not our usual friend Frank that’s doing it, but I hope I can meet your expectations as his fellow graphic designer. Have a good day!

Best regards, James.

P.S. Please be as critical as you can. I strive for perfection, which I think I can only achieve if you point out everything that you hate about it.

He was quite endearing, really, being one to skip the professionalism and getting straight to the point. She’d never met the man before, but she had quite a good idea of his personality through the email, and she quite liked those people whose personalities shone through their writing.

She decided to leave the attachment to look at later, having far more enough on her plate and trying to balance her other tasks, and, because she quite liked to take a break, she opened out her other email from Mary, switching to her personal email quickly. Though on opposite ends of the city for work— but across the hall when it came to flats—, they still found time in their lives to send each other strange things that only they would find funny as far as best friends went.

Today, apparently, was ugly picture day.

Mary had at first attached a photo of herself from their high school days, captioning it with ‘at least I got prettier. goddamn,’ to which Lily responded with her own high school photo, and Mary responded by telling her to ‘sit the fuck down. you’ve always been pretty.’ Lily didn’t entertain to her thought, knowing that her best friend would only accuse her of being a narcissist, even if for good reason.

The email chains were quite hilarious, and sometimes, she’d find herself scrolling all the way to the beginning of it all to read again on slow days. She looked around the room, and upon seeing that Dumbledore was strolling merrily along with her computer in his line of vision, she quickly clicked back to her personal email, pulling up James’s email to show that she was ‘working.’

When he’d walked away, seeming to have taken his good old time like the view of the boring gray office was enough to admire, she pulled open the camera on the computer, and, because it was an unspoken rule for all computer webcams, the quality was quite terrible, but that was fine, she supposed, as it would only enhance the unflattering aspect that she hoped this photo of her would achieve. She contorted her face together, quite unattractively, she’d say, and pulled her chin towards her neck to achieve that desired double-chin look, snapping four pictures of her in different poses before nodding in content. It was Mary that was going to receive the photos, and what kind of best friend would she be if she didn’t receive terrible pictures of her on the daily? They’d created a photo album solely for each other’s faces, Mary having named Lily’s ‘Wank Bank,’ which she supposed fully explained their friendship.

She was quick to send the email, and the computer made a small chime to indicate that it had been sent, before returning back to work, for real this time. She’d only begun typing away at the computer when she heard a sound from her emails, and usually, she’d ignore it, but there was this sinking feeling of some sort that had growing within her since she’d sent those faces of hers, that she’d—

Oh my god.

No.

No, no, no.

She’d sent the email to the wrong person.

There, instead of Mary’s usually peppered responses, was a new email from James Potter, who she would have coined as a bloke who was not afraid to double email in times of clarification, had it not been for the fact that the email was part of a thread, meaning that she’d sent something back to him.

Her mortification at the mere fact that she sent it to him of all people grew at least a million times.

She was reminded of one of those scenes in the movies, the ones where the idiotic main character, who had a passion for seeking out the supernatural rather than running away, found herself walking towards a room with a stick in her hand as she knew full well that she was about to be sliced apart by an unknown force. Yes, that was her, only the impending doom that she felt bubbling inside of herself was due to the fact that she already knew what she’d done, that she was fully aware of the fact that she was about to be face a gruesome murder by the hands of embarrassment.

And there it was, like a colorful banner spread across the drab walls of the room, was an email from James saying:

Thank you for the acknowledgement? I don’t know what the appropriate response is, because saying anything else would mark me as unprofessional. Nice pictures, by the way. I’m fairly certain that’s the most I could say.

Best regards, James.

She didn’t know whether to slam her head against the keyboard or against the screen, but she supposed that the screen was the better option, seeing as she might accidentally send another wrong email again. Computer shortcuts were both a blessing and a curse, after all. She sighed, composing another email to explain herself, but no, that wouldn’t do at all. She needed to properly apologize, and a simple little email would not do it.

Dear James,

I’m so sorry regarding the last email I sent you. I swear it wasn’t at all intended towards you, and as much as I’d like to write about a million paragraphs to properly convey my remorse, I’m sure we’ve loads to do in our 9-5 jobs. Please, let me make it up to you. I’ll prepare a special dinner for both of us, and we can discuss the original email concerning the graphics, among other things, of course. Does Friday at 7 work for you?

Sincerely, Lily.

He responded nearly immediately, and she wondered if he was slacking off like she was or he was just quick to reply to everything.

Dear Lily,

That will do very well.

Best regards, James.

P.S. I sincerely wish I could be more informal in my emails.

The knock at the door came just when she’d deemed the meal finished in the oven.

She agreed that she might have done it a bit too much, having changed out of her blouse into a low-cut top that made her tits look really nice, and she’d applied three layers of mascara and a nice, cherry-red lipstick, because even if it wasn’t a date, James Potter was still gorgeous. She’d like to at least look presentable after he’d seen terrible photos of her face.

She answered the door and was greeted by him, his eyes raking over her body, which was just the effect she wished for, because maybe that was enough to make up for the fact that he’d seen her at an angle she wished no one but Mary could ever see her in. She was fairly certain that she looked the same, unsubtly admiring his body, his strong arms being displayed with the black tee that he was wearing, and his hazel eyes looked so much prettier with him being a mere foot away from her.

“Hey,” he breathed, and she gave him a small smile.

“Hi. Come inside,” she gestured, and he responded with an easy smile, his eyes taking in the view of her apartment. “The food’s still in the oven. You should seat yourself, and I’ll prepare everything.”

“Is this a restaurant, Lily? Only I think it’s only fair if I help you.”

His voice was quite lovely, and she internally beat herself up for wondering how it’d sound with him atop of her, but she quickly shook the thought out of her head, smiling sweetly up at him. “No, I insist. You’re my guest, aren’t you?”

“As a guest, I consider it quite rude of me to let you do all the work.”

“As the host, I consider it quite rude of me to make you do some work.”

“If I’m eating here, I think I should at least assist you.”

“Yes. You can help me by sitting your pretty bum down and wait. Besides, I’ve already set the table, so unless you’d like both of us to carry out the Shepherd’s Pie together, please make yourself acquainted with a dinner seat.”

He stared at her incredulously, and she wondered if he was contemplating whether or not he should actually carry it out with her, but then he smirked in defeat, making a great deal of emphasis of sitting down. “You’re more clever than I thought.”

“Did you have low expectations, then?” she responded, grabbing a pair of oven mitts, but she didn’t pull open the oven just yet, turning to gauge his reaction.

“Nah. My expectations of you were already up here.” He made a gesture of raising his hand above his head to demonstrate where she would be on his invisible scale. “But now, they’re right about here.” He reached up as high as he possibly could while sitting to the point that the bottom of his shirt lifted, revealing the abs that had unfortunately been obscured behind the tee, and if she followed that trail of hairs, god.

Not now, Lily. There was a time and place for everything, but now was most definitely not the time for dirty, perverse thoughts.

She focused her eyes on the oven instead, carefully taking out the Shepherds Pie and placing it down on the table gently. He made a sound of content, saying, “Smells delish.”

“I’d rather hope it did,” she replied easily, and she picked up her utensils, baring them in her hands as they did in the movies to demonstrate just how excited she was to eat. The Shepherds Pie, of course, not the man sitting across from her, though he looked just as delicious, maybe even more.

They dove right in, Lily allowing James to cut the first piece for himself, and they talked about the graphics for the magazine that they worked for, the information not being all that important for right now, though she did tuck away everything they exchanged with one another for later. It was really easy to talk to him, and she quite liked talking to him, because it wasn’t just the sound of his voice, but the way he could make conversation out of anything.

The little Tardis-themed salt and pepper shakers that she had lying atop of the table? He was quick to make a remark about that, and it was well worth the 20 quid that she paid for them if just for him to compliment them. It spurred into a well-heated debate. Could you believe? An argument concerning salt and pepper shakers?

Time seemed to fly by fast when she was talking to him too, and she wondered where had he been all this time she had been bored out of her mind in her office, knowing that if she knew just have amazing of a time she’d have with him, she’d bloody talk to him all day. The office hours would definitely pass by much more quickly. She voiced that thought to him, and he looked so bloody pleased with himself that she’d say it again if it meant that he would give her that same quirky smile of his.

And with time, she was quite concerned with how quick it had taken for her to develop feelings for him, and it was quite discombobulating how fast her heart speed up when he did smile, which appeared after just about every one of her little comments and retorts. And god, when his eyes raked over her, even if it might have been just because of how daring she had been with her fashion choices, it made the butterflies in her stomach fly at full force, like they were speeding up her heart rate solely by flapping.

The next thing she knew, the tray was empty, a signal that he was going to leave soon, and the fact of the matter was that she didn’t want him to go yet. She wanted him to stay, and she didn’t mean for the entire night, though she wasn’t at all partial to that idea, but long enough for her to get to know him more.

They’d sipped a bit of wine as they ate, and though she was far from drunk, she had just about enough of that liquid courage, standing up just as he stood up, presumably to leave for the night. “It was really nice to formally meet you, Lil—”

“Do you want to have a look around?”

His eyebrows drew up in surprise, and she honestly didn’t even blame him, as she literally just strung that question out at him, but then he gave her a small smile, nodding. “Sure. I’d love to have a look around Casa de la Evans.”

Her own lips drew upwards. “Well, don’t let me stop you. I’ll be behind you, in case you accidentally— or purposely— break something.”

“Is that so?” he asked teasingly, “Or do you want me to be your tour guide?”

“I lied. It’s your explanation that’s correct. I actually don’t know my way around the flat at all.”

“After this tour, you’ll know every inch of it by heart,” he replied, and he made a wide sweeping motion with his arms, “This is the dining room.”

“Evidently,” she smiled.

He whirled around to the living room and pointed, simply stating ‘living room.’ He was being the absolute cutest, but she wanted him in her bedroom, having concocted quite the plan, and she followed him down the small hallway, opening the first door. Upon the sight of the toilet and shower, he turned to her, a small cock of his eyebrow, saying, “This is the bathroom, where you get rid of your waste and then clean evidence of said waste.”

“That’s the strangest way to put it.”

“It was either that, or something concerning shit.”

She quirked her lips up at him, wondering how he could make talk about the bathroom sound endearing, and they walked out, closing the door behind them as they made their way to the adjacent bedroom. “Here is thy fair maiden’s bedroom, where she slumbers and retreats for the night.”

“Have a look around,” she replied, dropping their faux tourist act, and she watched as he eyes skimmed over the room, stopping prompt at—

Oh god. She’d left her bra out in the open, lying right near her bedpost, and there was nothing wrong about a bloke seeing her bra, seeing as she’d been the one who’d invited him in the first place, not to mention the fact that she had tits, meaning that it was a dead giveaway that she’d wear said products. Of course she’d have bras, but still, it was a bit embarrassing for it to be out in the open like that, because if she wanted him to see her bra, it’d be on her very chest, ready for him to remove.

“I’m sorry about that,” she told him, plucking it from the ground and stuffing it into her drawer.

“Don’t be. Was just surprised is all.”

He was looking at the pictures she’d framed on her bedside table now, and it contained a drawer, filled with miscellaneous things, like some candles, a few documents, and a pair of—

Could she?

Yes, she could, there was no doubt about it.

Should she?

Well.

No, but one only had just the one life to live.

She did the next action out of a whim.

She opened up the drawer, pulling out the pair of handcuffs that she’d bought out of pure boredom one day and looped them around his hand, not even trying with both of them because that would have been a hassle, and he’d undoubtedly catch on quickly and resist. She secured it around him and put the other cuff around her bedpost, glad that it locked in place once she’d shut it.

His reaction was priceless. His eyes were widened, only just taking in the event when she’d finished her work, and his eyes shifted from his hand and then towards her, looking to be in sheer disbelief. “Lily, what the fuck are you doing?”

That was a good question.

What was she doing?

She was more rational than this, she thought, and she scoured her brain for an excuse, as telling him that she wanted him to stay made her sound creepy. He waited for an answer, not at all looking mad, when she remembered what had caused this apology dinner in the first place. “We need to talk.”

He cocked an eyebrow at her. “We’ve been talking for the past hour.”

“Yes, but I mean…” she trailed off, biting her lip softly as she desperately hoped that he caught what she was referring to, even though she didn’t at all want to bring it up.

His eyes widened at her, and he reached out with his other hand, placing it on her shoulder. “Listen, Lily. You don’t have to worry about it. I’m not going to report you to HR, if that’s what you’re scared of.”

“I— thank you,” she replied, her cheeks flushing red, and she felt the color on her throat, “I don’t know why I did that, to be honest. I suppose it’s my idea of a joke.”

“The handcuffs or the email?”

“The handcuffs,” she answered, “The emails was directed to a friend, so that was completely intentionally. I— I’ll unlock you right now.”

She avoided his eye, the embarrassment of the situation fully creeping up on her now, and she dug around in her drawer in an attempt to look for it, but it was nowhere to be found. She checked under the candles, atop the documents, even going as far as reaching all the way back and pressing her fingers against the very edge of the drawer, hoping that it was there. No luck.

Oh, great. She’d done it now.

She had completely, unintentionally handcuffed someone to her bed, wondering if she’d broken any laws because of her own foolishness, because of something that was meant to be funny. “Lily?”

“I’m so sorry,” she nearly whispered, not sure whether to laugh or cry at this predicament that they were in, “I can’t seem to find the key anywhere.”

His lips curled up, evidently amused by her despite the fact that he was literally locked up in her room at his own mercy. “Lily, it’s honestly fine.”

“It’s not,” she insisted, “I— Here, I’ll make it up to you. What’s your favourite song? I’ll play it for you, and I— I’ll massage you! I’m sure working in an office all day has put some sort of strain on your back. Please, sit down.”

He made a half-arsed attempt at sitting on the bed, looking quite awkward with one hand held up in the air, and she started thinking of other circumstances where he’d look that way, circumstances that would ultimately end up with both his arms handcuffed with her atop of him— sans any clothing of course. She burst that bubble, because again, now was not the time.

“Lily, you don’t have to do anything. I—”

“No, you’re going to shut your pretty mouth up and let me give you a massage.”

He quirked an eyebrow up at her but raised his other hand up in defeat, to which he promptly made a motion of zipping his mouth shut. She climbed up on the bed behind him, and as she tentatively placed her hands on his shoulders, she was reminded of how akin this was to the intro of an adult film, with mediocre acting at best and the scene escalating quickly.

The only difference being, however, was that there would be no shagging, as far as Lily was concerned.

She kneaded his shoulder, just once, when he turned his head back to look at her, winding his free arm around her neck and pulling her beside him. She stared at him in shock, her heart beating at the speed of a race horse, but she didn’t budge, knowing that his grip on her would keep her in place. “You didn’t really think that I’d let you give me a massage, did you?”

“Well, you’ve no other choice, considering the fact that you’ve nowhere else to go. At least let me massage your wrist when you break free.”

“Break free? Am I your prisoner now?” he joked.

“Please don’t say that, because it makes me feel like I kidnapped you.”

“And you haven’t?”

“No, actually, believe it or not, my plan to seduce you did not involve a case of Stockholm Syndrome.”

“Seduce me, did you say?”

“Yes,” she affirmed, because there was no point in beating around the bushes. He had eyes, and he had to know that she dolled herself up to impress him, if she could judge by the way his eyes had lingered on her person the entire time they’d had dinner together.

“Can I be honest with you, then?”

“Are you implying that you’ve been lying to me this entire time?” she teased, and he smiled at her.

“Sort of, yeah,” he replied, and he turned his gaze away from her, though his hand, which had been looped around her back, wound its way towards her own hand, intertwining them together. “This might be a little embarrassing, but the reason why I reached out to you instead of Frank like he usually did was because I asked him for the switch. I, er, I sort of, really wanted to get to know you better? I really do like you, Lily.”

His confession was like music to her ears, a symphony that she wanted to hear for practically the rest of her life, but he wasn’t going to get her that easily. She was going to take advantage of this situation, because maybe, maybe she’d attempted to assert her dominance like the powerful woman that she hoped that she was, and she was not going to let him make her feel like putty when he was the one who was handcuffed to her bed.

Maybe, she begrudgingly admitted, she was a bit drunk from the wine, but she was still very much in control of her thoughts, or at least for the most part she was.

She shot up from the bed, pulling James’s arm off of her, and she stood in front of him, leaning down so that they were face-to-face, or face-to-chest. “And what are you going to do about it, James Potter?”

“I dunno, really,” he breathed, and she noticed that his eyes were trained on her lips rather than her chest, most likely because he wanted to be a bit more of a gentleman, “The current course of action is to accidentally email you some pictures of myself.”

Her cheeks flared up. “They were meant for my best friend.”

He cocked his head to the side like the smarmy idiot that he was. He was supposed to be defenceless in this situation, not getting the upper hand from it. “Really? That’s quite tragic. Could you make that face in the email for me right now, then? It’s quite cute.”

“It was not.”

“It was the cutest thing I’ve ever seen.” He pulled out his phone from his pocket, unlocking it and flipping to his camera roll, revealing that he’d gone as far as saving the pictures. “See? Bloody adorable, you are.”

She didn’t at all think she looked adorable in those photos, the camera catching her worst angles, and they brought shame to her nice pictures, the ones she’d taken in pretty lighting with a proper smile, not an overly-exaggerated pout. Out of all the emails that she could have sent to him, why that one? She’d sent Mary loads of nice photos of her, so why couldn’t James be the recipient of those photos instead of what she’d actually sent to him? “Why aren’t you mad?”

“Why would I be mad? Because you handcuffed me to a bed because you accidentally emailed me something?”

It sounded even worse coming out of his mouth, and she visibly flinched. “That’s precisely why.”

“I figure if it meant that I get to talk to you more, there’s virtually nothing wrong with it.”

James Potter. Charming. Gorgeous. Smooth.

She was undeserving.

“I’m going to look for the key again,” she said instead, and she turned around, pulling up her other drawers in case the key had somehow wounded its way in another part of her room, but she just didn’t quite get it. She’d never even touched the key, never even used the handcuffs, so just how did the key go missing? Perhaps she’d dropped it one time when she took out a candle, not knowing that it was attached to it. Yes, that had to be it.

“Need a little help over there?”

“Yes, actually, but seeing as the only person who could assist me is unable to move from his fixed spot near my bed, I’m afraid this is a one-woman expedition.”

“I’ll support your expedition. I’ll be a one-man cheerleader.”

She smiled in spite of herself. “Is that an excuse to throw compliments at me?”

“How else am I supposed to stress how gorgeous you are?”

“Then what am I supposed to do about you? I can’t very well cheer you on for sitting there and being pretty.”

“I disagree. There’s something called multitasking, you see.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah.”

“Well, that’s rather unfortunate. Give me some time to look for the key, and I’ll cheer you on in other ways.”

She heard him take in a shuddering breath, and she felt her lips curving upwards. She beat him at his own little game, despite having absolutely no idea what she meant by ‘other ways.’

She expected that she’d turned her entire bedroom upside down looking for the bloody key, and James, having stayed true to his word, cheered her on the entire 21 minutes that she’d spent searching, his words including, but not being limited to, a compliment of some sort, each one getting more and creative than the last, or was it less creative? She didn’t know. She surely wasn’t going to be picky about the compliments if he was so willing to give them to her in the first place.

But 21 minutes were put to waste, and the only difference between that time span and now was that her room was significantly messier than before. Even worse, she still hadn’t found the bloody key.

Would she have handcuffed the gorgeous bespectacled man to her bed had she known that she’d be unable to find that key?

Probably, probably not.

Who knew?

The fact of the matter was that she didn’t have the key, and there was no use in dwelling the possible outcomes that she could possibly be experiencing had she not locked him up. He’d probably be at home right now, and she’d definitely be lying on her bed contemplating how much she should have handcuffed him.

She just couldn’t win.

He was standing up again, probably due to the strain that the cuffs might have made to his wrists when he was sitting down, and he was nearly beginning to throw another compliment at her, she could tell. His compliments weren’t even simple ones that anyone could throw at her if they saw her walking down the street. No, James Potter seemed to be studying her— had to be— because no one could give her one glance and say something like— Oh.

Speaking of a compliment. “You know that feeling when you study your arse off for a test and you end up failing it anyway?”

“Yes?” She really hoped that he wasn’t going to tell her that looking at her gave him that same feeling, because what a blow that would have been, especially after this night that they had.

“Well, I reckon the sight of you is enough to forget that I fucking failed because then I’ll feel like I’m winning.” Ah. There he goes.

“But then—”

“Nope,” he cut her off, “I fucking won.”

“Have you?” she asked, moving towards him, his words giving her further courage as her fingers skimmed across his chest, “Have you really?”

“Yeah,” he let out, and she noticed the way he’d swallowed when he looked at her, his eyes growing slightly darker at the sight of her. Her fingers traced the outline of his jaw, admiring the curve of it, and she was completely aware of how frantic her heart was at the small distance between them, but she wouldn’t let that deter her. She drew her lips up close to him, and he watched carefully, and she allowed a small kiss to the corner of his lip, just barely tasting it, before easing her way towards his ear as she slightly slid her lips over his skin.

She stopped at his ear, whispering, “No, I don’t think you have.”

And with that, she pulled away, grinning victoriously when her actions had the desired effect on him.

Lily Jane Evans. Smart. Pretty. Confident.

“Fuck, Lily.”

“Maybe later,” she replied coyishly, adding, “I’m not going to do anything to you when you’re helpless.”

“I’m not bloody helpless,” he insisted, and he waved his free hand in the air, “If I wanted to, I’d have pushed you off of me.”

“The Stockholm Syndrome has gotten to you, apparently,” she joked, and he rolled his eyes at her halfheartedly.

“What will it take? More compliments? I don’t think I’ve ever had to pay someone with compliments.”

“Credit card transactions work just as fine,” she replied easily, “Only I’d feel awful if you actually paid me money.”

He smiled. “You know, if it wasn’t unprofessional, I would have gone on for hours about how bloody gorgeous you are after you sent me photos of your face. It took about fifty tries, I’d wager, before I finally came up with an email that didn’t imply that I thought you were pretty.”

She blinked, staring at him. “You’re kidding.”

“Nah.”

“Why would you—”

“I think we both know the answer to that.”

She scoured his eyes, his pretty, golden eyes that seemed to glitter as he stared back, for any signs that he might have been deceiving her in any sort of way, but all she saw was solemnity and, if she was correct, some adoration, like she hung the stars. And if she did hang the stars if his eyes bore the truth, then they were dangling in his eyes, shining brightly.

His hand flew up to cup her face gently, and he parted her lips open before leaning in as much as he possibly could, stopping a few centimeters short from her face. “Could I kiss you?”

A man who acted from consent. Lovely. “And ruin my lipstick?”

“Funny, I thought you wore it for me.”

“Funny, because then you’d be correct,” she replied, and the next thing she knew, her lips were on his, savouring the sensation as the feeling in her heart skyrocketed, and who knew James Potter could be so good at kissing with only one hand? His hand flew from her chin and down towards her waist, playing with the bottom of her shirt but not advancing any further.

She hoped that when she pulled away, there would be red staining his lips, because that meant that they’d done a great job of smearing it off. On the flip side, she didn’t want to know, because that meant that they’d stopped kissing, and oh god could she please stay like this forever?

It was almost as if her lips were made to fit against his, like their molds completely complemented one another in the sense that if one were to be made, the other had to be as well. He tugged slightly at her bottom lip before pressing one last light kiss on her, pulling away sweetly as he reached his forehead against hers.

“That was— wow,” she said, and she couldn’t at all help the smile that grew on her lips as he mirrored her actions, a light chuckle falling from his lips.

“Wow?”

“More than wow, actually.”

“I’d hope so,” he responded, “There’s hardly any lipstick left on your lips.”

She gently poked his mouth, a nice cherry colour now from their ministrations. “And there’s loads on yours.”

“Does it make me look pretty?”

“Very,” she nodded, and his smile grew more.

He brought her arms around his neck, saying in a quieter undertone, “I have something to tell you. Don’t be mad?”

“I’m the one who handcuffed you to the bed. I don’t think I’ll get mad.”

“All right,” he said, “Come here.”

“I’m right here.”

“Closer,” he elaborated, and he used his hand to bring her towards him so that she was flush against his chest, “Promise you won’t be mad?”

“I promise.”

“Pinky swear on it.”

She quirked an eyebrow at him but intertwined their pinkies together, smiling. “Will you tell me now? I’m getting quite antsy over what you’ve got to say.”

He paused, quite possibly for dramatic effect more than anything else, and—

“I’ve had the key in my pocket this entire time.”

She pulled away from him quickly, his eyes widened. “You what?”

“Oi,” he said, bringing her back towards him, “You promised you wouldn’t be mad.”

“I’m not,” she insisted, “Only that I didn’t expect— oh my god. You— When?”

“It doesn’t take that long for a bloke to notice that he’s about to get handcuffed to a bed, so I swiped the key from the drawer when you weren’t looking.”

“Oh my god,” she repeated, her voice filled with exasperation and amusement, “All this time I thought I lost the key.”

“Nah, it’s been right here all along,” he replied, patting the pocket in his trousers.

“Why’d you do it?” she asked him.

“Isn’t it obvious? I reckon it would have been the funnier approach by playing along with you. Was quite cute of you, I’d say.”

“That’s why you weren’t mad.”

“Wouldn’t have been mad if I didn’t steal it. Do you want to do the honours of releasing me?”

“Will you report me to the authorities for kidnapping?”

“Nah. I’ll report you for stealing instead.”

“Stealing?”

“My heart,” he quipped, and her lips curved upwards, watching as he took the key out of his pocket as he’d said and placing it into the lock on the handcuff, turning it and watching in satisfaction as it opened with a click. He threw it to the side, cupping her face gingerly with both his hands this time. “But, I’ll let it slide just this once.”

“Just this time?”

“And every time after.”

With that, he pressed his lips against hers, and she responded eagerly.

An email and a handcuff were quite possibly the strangest combination in getting two people together, but if she were to contemplate it later, she’d agree that it was all very well worth it.

[emilywatchescursedshow]

S2 E6 - No Exit

Uhoh I'm watching the recap and it's edited to be about Jo and Ellen so I guess that's what the episode is about. "You're afraid of my mother?" "I think so" still hits

No one else but me cares about this but keyboard shortcuts in the tumblr text editor do not read in dvorak. I'm in dvorak layout rn and the "B" key is coded to X but if I want to bold I do ctrl+"B" not ctrl+"N" which is the key that B is coded to. Explains why my copy/paste shortcuts have been all fucked up while I make these posts. And is just kind of interesting from the perspective of what even is the tumblr text editor??? Unknowable.

But here we are, I can't eat, I've been sleeping like shit, I have to stick around (on Long Island) until I meet with my advisor until 2:30pm and I've already read too much spn fanfic for someone who hasn't seen this show so let's keep watching shallllll we?

Blonde girl has checked the fuzes and is now getting covered in creepy goo. OOO creepy goo is oozing out of the outlet, and now there's just a guy's eye. That was kind of a strangely paced scene.

Had to rewind to get a sus on the camera work they did - a flyover shot of the roadhouse comes down to an OTS shot on Dean, a little disorienting. Don't know why the name Katie Holmes is funny and/or bitch "for Dean" but I also don't know why we're describing Jo and Ellen arguing as a "catfight" so I'm taking a lot of stuff on spec real fast with this episode.

Ellen wants Jo to go to school. "Nebraska is for Lovers." Why is a family with two children coming into a bar at 10 am.

All young blondes missing from a building uhoh is the fact that Jo is blonde going to be relevant are they going to use her as bait?

Dean Jo literally punched you in the face so hard you dropped a rifle I feel like you shouldn't be so quick to judge.

Sam picked up on the goo real fast. Dean is having a weird attitude about this episode.

Jo is here and feeling Dean up real hard to sell the "bf" thing. Got a screencap for my new profile pic lololol.

Ellen has the opposite parent syndrome to John.

Jo is having to go through Dean hazing I don't love watching this. Why are we having this Dean being an asshole.

"You think women can't do the job" no experience... what is happening right now.

I see where both characters are coming from here but I just wish Dean wasn't such a fucking jerk to her before, great way for a person to be defensive is to give them something to be defensive over.

Is this going to be like that one xfiles epsiode with the stretchy man? Is that why that one scene was paced so weirdly to focus on the screw? Bc the xfiles episode was all about unscrewing things from the inside.

Dean reaching blindly into a hole to find a piece of scalp. Gross.

Ah yes, me when I am a hot blonde lady receiving flyers for a lingerie party and have a countertop absolutely stuffed full of apples. And then I get my ankle grabbed by something in a vent and just fall over and start screaming?? I'm sorry but you need to sell the monster a little more than that. What's it going to do? pull her into the vent??

Uhoh we got another screen-cappable moment. Literally the worst sleep position in the history of the world Dean. Great job. Yeah no wonder your back hurts.

Is Dean going to have to confront the fact that Jo is very much not ok? Or are they going to keep not talking at each other until Jo inevitably gets murdered by the fans.

Uhoh Dean telling a story about his dad. The chain necklace is back. The Jacting around "I bulls-eyed every one of them.. but I don't know."

Jo is a Dean foil in this episode I guess? Or she's what Sam could have been if his mom didn't die and his dad wasn't a fucking asshole. Whatever - she's someone Dean has to bounce off of in a "self recognition" type of way. Which makes me happy their romantic "tension" hasn't really been played as such during this episode.

There's apparently "nothing wrong" with being a hunter to get close to your dad. Who is dead. From being a hunter. I hate this stupid logic.

OH MY GOD OH MY GOD. A) Sam still has his ghost broke hand in a stupid cast and B) ash sent them. a text file. a fucking. a fucking text file list. of the people executed. I love this show.

Herman Webster Mudgett the three name serial killer classic. Sam is fangirling over HH Holmes. Sam listens to my favorite murder and is a little bitch on the facebook page.

I guess we're just going to fucking destroy this apartment building that keeps leasing to blondes for some reason. "Jack squat" when you can't curse on a ghost show.

Dean's "you're inexperienced line" is ancient history at this point he just let's Jo go on by herself.

Yeah I mean, duh. They had zero plan.

Now it's time for Dean to come to the rescue. At least by now we can be confident that Jo isn't immediately dead.

"She's taking care of ... feminine business"

If John is the reason Jo's father is dead.. that would be interesting.

"There's nothing you could have done." Actually, he could have stopped her from going lmao, that seems pretty clearly like something he could have done.

Jo baby just breathe.

Oh we're having prisoner to prisoner communication.

Where did the hand come from? And he's just yanking some hair?

Me when I'm normal walking down the street with what I'm assuming is a metal detector turned EMF reader and a shovel. Time to dig.

Sam take your cast off.

Extra spiders in the hole just so you know it's creepy.

They could have like, actually used her as bait. That would have been an interesting test maybe of like, her commitment to hunting bc then she would have to deal with the fear of being in danger as something that didn't happen like, accidentally. They could have had her foil be Sam, who didn't want to be a hunter, who wanted to go to school, and now has chosen to be a hunter to be close to his dad. Why Dean??? The bottle shooting story was good but like, is that advancing his character that much? Like Dean should not capitulate to Jo's desire to be a hunter so easily, whereas that would be a much more interesting angle for Sam's character to be challenged. Whatever.

She's bait now I guess. And HH Holmes is just. Here now. And is doing an amazing performance of being completely .. uh.. trapped by salt.

H o w and whyyyyyyy?? But.. yes?? (About the cement mixer with weird rock anthem stings.) Filling that sewer with cement will take 1 million years I'm not sure they thought through this.

Is Ellen going to tell them what "that's not the first time I've heard that from a Winchester" meant? Or is she going to continue the not explaining herself routine she had with that one hunter.

Yessssss give us the dirtyy backstory Ellen.

Why are Dean and Sam being blamed for something their father did.

Okay the why still holds what the fuck??

[royalrastafariannaynays]

“Hey.” “Hi.”

((thank you for the prompt @notedchampagne! for this davekat soulmate/wedding/enemies to friends to lovers/fake boyfriends au!!))

Your ass was unlucky enough to be saddled with the absolute worst EVER soulmate. Fucker just had to say a normal greeting when he met you. No inflection, no tone, no punctuation, nothing. Nada. Zip. Zilch.

Embellishment? Who’s heard of it.

Originality? Ha.

Hints as to which poor and sorry fucker it could be in your life? yeah right.

The only way you would ever know which soulmate was yours, would be if you kissed them right on the mouth. Or shared some other body fluid, but it’s not like you’re gonna be drinking tears or playing blood brothers - how unsanitary.

No. You have to just wait and see, for your entire goddamn life.

And the best part?

You have to show up to Rose’s wedding.

With a literal life partner.

That you told her you have.

And you absolutely, positively, don’t.

Now, of course, is when you’re sitting at the airport, and you’re waiting on your drink to get to your little space on the bar.

It’s almost too late to find a fake soulmate. It was a stupid idea to begin with, but at least you could fake it easily since your mark was so easy to match with… literally anyone. Jesus. Just a nice fake meetcute story and bam. There it is.

And then you could break it off! One of those ‘I thought I met my soulmate but it was actually not them because I’m a dunce’ stories.

No one is going to let it go if you don’t show up with someone, though.

Your soulmate tattoo is located just below your right nipple.

It says “Hi.”

Literally.

Fucking stupid, isn’t it?

The waitress is looking like a pretty good candidate for fake-soulmate. Just a few good lines, a promise of getting her some sweet fat stacks when you get home (not like you couldn’t afford it honestly), and she’d be an Oscar-winning actress.

Or maybe the bartender? He’s pretty fine. Big, burly, redhead. Probably more hair on his chest than you would know what to do with. Pretty much your type, but bears were always more of Dirk’s thing.

You sigh into your martini. Two hours until your flight takes off.

No one even bothered to hit you up on craigslist about your ad, and that almost always worked for like. Black tie events and parties and shit. Usually, then, you were glammed up. But you’d had to leave the ad cryptic so that your sister wouldn’t immediately find it upon trying to uncover your ruse.

Fuck.

And you’re carpooling with some friend of Rose and Kanaya’s that you’e never met, to get to their nice little rented vineyard once you’re there. His name started with a K, right? The only name that comes to mind right now is Karkat. Vantas, to be specific. Your biggest critic.

But no way he’d be Kanaya’s best man of honor or whatever. No way.

The world ain’t that small.

Rose is getting married to Kanaya, her soulmate. Your whole goddamn family will be there, as well as about a billion trolls. It’s gonna be a pretty big and fancy affair. Likely in tabloids.

And you’re already going to have to be putting on a good face for the paps and the fuckin’.....

Ugh.

You really screwed the pooch this time.

Someone sits next to you.

“Can I get something strong?” he asks, and.

Ooh.

Well if you’re gonna get truly and definitively fucked this weekend, you might as well get fucked by someone with that voice. Like ayyyyy, who are you fella.

There’s a short conversation, in which you turn to examine the dude out of the side of your eye. Okay, nice, dark skin, black hair, too much bangs, strong nose, tall, thick as fuck, okay. Damn.

The Jack and Coke is making you feel adventurous, and your normal grace is totally here, which means when your eyes reach his face, he’s glaring at you like you’ve sprung eight cysts and one of them is leaking on his cashmere sweater.

Fuck.

“Hey,” you stammer out at him, and.

For a second, you swear you see him freeze.

Maybe it’s the uh. Maybe it’s the alcohol?

“Hi,” he says.

And you don’t think anything of it.

“Take a picture, it’ll last longer,” the guy growls at you, and ohhhhhh. Oh yeah. That’s a good one right there. His tone sends unruly shivers down your spine and you’re thoroughly embarrassed by how easy you are.

Like seriously, for a guy who spent his entire life like a mule in a horse courtship corral, you’re incredibly easy. Meaning that, no matter how awkward and uncomfortable you are, you will basically take anyone attractive.

Look, touching people is nice, okay?

And it’s usually only makeouts that you go for, maybe a handy or something.

Cuddling is the SHIT.

“I would, but I think a ghoul like you might break my camera,” you reply, instinctively, and. Oh god. Oh god oh god oh god what did you just say???? What???????

Luckily, he laughs instead of getting angry and throwing his fruity nonsense drink in your face. And he gives you a look that’s halfway between begrudgingly tolerant and something like a half-assed smolder.

The lemon wedge wouldn’t have felt good on your eyes.

“Okay, what’s your name, pain in the ass?” he asks, and.

Huh.

Somehow that worked.

Weird.

“Dave Strider,” you say, and wink. “Care to get a bat up in my belfry?”

…. What. You were trying for funny again.  

And apparently that was a mistake.

Okay, so it didn’t work.

His face is frozen in a mask of stone so solid you could break a diamond on it.

One of his hands is coming up to his mouth, and his eyes are widening in horror.

That’s when you look down and see his luggage tag.

[Karkat V. Vantas]

Shit.

This fuck.

Is your.

Oh my god.

“I thought she was joking,” he whispers, and you look back up at him. Your shades flip down from the top of your head and onto your nose and he.

He visibly recoils.

Ouch.

“I prayed that she was joking.”

Double ouch.

“Your movies…. They’re terrible.”

You wince, and remove your glasses.

Instant soberity.

“I know. I make them,” you say.

And he.

He gets up, chugs the rest of his drink, and.

He walks the fuck away.

You think you’ve seen the end of him.

That is, until you find your seat on the plane.

And despite it being first class, guess who’s sitting right next to you? Holding an identical invitation to yours in his left hand?

Karkat fucking Vantas.

It’s at this point that you realize that yes.

Rose’s critic friend, and Kanaya’s best man of honor, is indeed, Karkat Vantas.

The critic who hates you the most in the world is going to be a part of Rose’s wedding.

And if you didn’t know better, you would think that Rose married Kanaya just for this exact fucking moment. She orchestrated the entire soulmate thing with Kanaya.

Fuck.

He’s glaring up at you, and you’re trying not to scowl down at him, and the whole thing is so ridiculously inconvenient you could just cry.

“So you’re in this wedding, too?” you try, as you throw your carry-on up into the overhead storage.

The guy sighs so loud, you’re surprised heads don’t turn.

“Yes, idiot, I’m also in the wedding,” he says, and you try not to slump. Okay. Whole flight seated next to him. Maybe you could ignore him, and he could ignore you, and it’ll all be kosher?

“Right,” you mutter, and sink into your seat.

There’s a decent margin between the side of your chair, and his. It’s that kind of cheaper first class seating. The kind that doesn’t have like. Massive partitions, but instead has a little semi-clear divider between your chairs, and then some extra pillows and blankets, and better reclining.

It’s not your usual fare, but what can you say. You reserved the flight… a little late. Definitely not in fear of Rose’s judgey eyes.

Judgey at the fact that you’ll be arriving to her wedding, sans the soulmate you thought you had.

This is going to be a shitshow. You can imagine it now.

Rose, laughing at you per usual, saying that yes, she was correct in assuming you wouldn’t be bringing a plus one, yet again. Dirk, shaking his head very slowly at you. Jade, and Roxy all with identical blank faces destined to turn into glee the moment you turn around. And John. Who will be the only sad sap to actually feed you any sympathy.

;alsdkjf;lakjs.

There’s absolutely no chance at you finding anyone at this very short notice.

Someone knocks your face with their bag as they pass down the aisle of the plaine, and you just sit there and take it. Like a particularly smarmy penis, just slapping you continually, regardless of the fact that you don’t even want to suck his dick. Hhhhhhhg.

“Hey, watch it!” you hear from your left.

And you look over, to see Karkat V. Vantas, your biggest critic, glowering at the dude whose bag is entirely too phallic for its own good.

“Stop hitting random people in the face with your luggage, you careless piece of shit,” Karkat V. Vantas says to that man.

Huh. Defending you.

Maybe he doesn’t think you’re all that bad?

And you get the absolute worst idea.

The absolute best idea.

You wait until the flight has taken off, and they’re walking the little carts up and down the plane with snacks and shit.

“Wanna pretend to be my soulmate?” you blurt out.

And Karkat chokes on his complimentary soda.

“Excuse me?” he asks.

And yeah. This is gonna be a great idea.

From the angle you’re at, his coughing perfectly outlines his jaw, and you wanna get your mouth on it. Attraction from your side won’t be hard to fake, at all.

“I told Rose that I was coming to the wedding with a soulmate, and I don’t have one,” you say, waving one hand, once he’s done hacking his lungs out with enough force to make a flight attendant look pretty concerned.

You take a sip of your own beverage, and give him a look across the space between the two of you.

He looks more disgusted than he did back when he first found out who you are, and that he would have to be staying on the same floor of a hotel with you.

“How tasteless. How do you know I don’t already have one?!” he asks, patting his chest with his fist. He’s still working off the dregs of the coughing, and he waves away the flight attendant with his eyes still glued to you.

Ah yeah. You hadn’t considered that.

“Do you? Have one, that is?” you ask, and his face fills with red.

“No, I don’t, thank you very much,” he says, and you grin.

“Oh no! Don’t you dare give me that shit-eating smile, you nasty little sub-human,” he splutters, and you just grin a little wider. Your chances are increasing. And as he’s getting riled up, you’re getting a rush in your chest. The newfound coloring on his face is great to look at, and highlights his cheeks just so.

In that moment, you understand that you might be attracted to him more than sexually.

See, before, it was just physical.

But with every word, he’s etching out another little crease for himself in your mind.

Maybe after this, you could try to be friends.

He’s talking again. “...because of that, I hate your films anyway, so why would I waste my time on this farce for more than five seconds!”

You’re distracted, and you answer honestly and instinctively.

And for whatever reason, it’s something you’ve never told anyone before.

It sounds cheesy as fuck, and hokey and stupid. But it’s true, somehow.

“You only hate my films,” you tell him, simply, “Because you fail to realize that each and every one of them is an attempt at multi-faceted social and political commentary on the current state of events in Hollywood.”

Shit.

“Your very first review of my work was the most correct one yet,” you add.

And shit. More shit.

And, for the first time in maybe his entire goddamn life if you had to guess, Karkat Vicente Vantas is stunned into gape-mouthed silence.

“And now, you’re the only one who knows it,” you finish.

Something like long-coming realization is dawning on Karkat’s eyes.

His lips purse, and he looks like he’s going to throw up.

When you open your mouth again, he puts a finger to your face, and you close it promptly.

“You read all my reviews?” he asks, after a few minutes. “And you remember them?”

You just nod, not sure if you’re allowed to talk again yet.

“God, you’re full of shit,” he says.

And yeah.

You are.

That stunt with wearing a dress made of only recycled avocado skins to the People’s Choice Awards, and then telling a reporter that it was in defense of the avocado-consuming millennials everywhere? Classic Dave Strider.

Using your given name instead of a pseudonym, ridiculous as it sounds? Classic.

Skateboarding into celebration party of your tenth film, not wearing anything except one of those socks they use to strap penises to dudes’ thighs in filming sex scenes? Very you.

“No one is going to believe me,” Karkat V Vantas whispers, seemingly to himself.

“Nah,” you agree.

And he glares at you, then. The realization is still happening. Every little cog is flicking into place, every little moment that you orchestrated in your films, every little theme that you hid in the music scores and named as coincidence to the public.

“I did lie about you being the only one, though,” you say, sighing. “My siblings also know. John knows but doesn’t believe me. Jade doesn’t give a shit.”

“But I’m… holy shit.” he puts his hands on his head.

“You believe me now? Go ahead and ask Rose about it,” you offer, pulling up pesterchum on your phone.

Yeehaw for the in-flight wifi.

Karkat refuses.

“Oh no, I believe you,” he says.

“So will you pretend to be my soulmate?” you ask him, and he glares at you again.

Like, this, ‘how dare you suggest such a thing be done to my fragile countenance’ glare. Like you’ve asked him to shovel shit directly into his own mouth from the anus of a bull with really bad irritable bowel syndrome.

“Fine,” he says.

And you’re ready to beg again, but instead you’re the one leaning back now, surprised.

“What?”

“I’ll do it, but not for you,” Karkat tells you.

And uh.

Okay then.

“Alright, cool,” you say.

“But only to get back at that filthy wizard-fucker for making me wear a lime green suit to her wedding,” he says.

And oh. Okay.

“How would that get back at her exactly?” you ask, dumbly. “I mean I hate our lady-in-waiting attire as much as the next guy, but…”

“Fooling Lalonde is a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity, Dave,” he says.

And. Oh.

Hearing your name come out of his mouth feels really good. For no particular reason.

Like every soulmate romcom ever. Like this is reality.

You ignore that bit with iron blinders on.

“And she did this awful wedding trope just to spite me,” Karkat continues, examining his fingernails. “Because I mentioned the movie ‘27 Dresses’ and she almost creamed herself with bliss at the idea of making a man wear a suit that he could only use for one occasion.”

It hits you, and you groan.

“Like a hideous bridesmaids’ dress,” you sigh, sinking into your seat.

“Exactly,” Karkat says, and you slide your eyes over to look at him.

“So if we do this, what’s our story?” you ask.

And Karkat already has one planned, damn him. He improvises with the skill and speed of a practiced veteran.

Over the process of the next four hours of plane trip, you work it out.

The two of you met at a press party, and ended up kissing over a glass of champagne, and from there it was magic.

No, you weren’t planning on getting married anytime soon.

Yes, you didn’t tell anyone because you’re keeping it under wraps for the press.

Et cetera Et cetera for hours of making details happen. Karkat also takes a bribe with stride, just some extra assurance from you.

He wanted your new car for the bribe.

You bitched and moaned about it, but eventually agreed to sign over the title for him. It was no skin off your bones right now, anyway. You make enough money.

It was going to be an interesting weekend.

So, you were off the plane.

Karkat took your hand as soon as you left the gate, bags over your respective shoulders, and led you down to the baggage claim.

It’s for the press, you have to remind yourself. It’s for the press, and then once you’re in private he won’t have to put on a show anymore.

But his hand feels… nice.

It’s hard not to focus on it as you’re brought down to the baggage carousel, and you stand there, waiting. Your hands are almost always cold, and just from this moment you can tell he runs hot. Something about thermodynamic equilibrium and memes runs across the forehead area of your thoughts, and you snort softly.

Karkat gives you a weird look, and squeezes your hand.

When he tells you to stop giggling like a newborn moron, he leans in close to do it, and you can feel the put-upon smile on his mouth.

You’re getting a few stares, and you can see some press out of the corner of your eye.

They’re waiting for you outside, just a few since you’re not really quite that famous. And you hid your destination pretty well, you think. After one of them got a restraining order, they stay at least thirty feet away from you.

Having Terezi as a friend is fantastic.

“David?” you hear, just barely within earshot.

You turn your head slightly and see Rose, just out of the truly visible range of your periphery.

There are people with her, maybe two or three. One of them would be Dirk, since he insisted on being there to see your ‘new soulmate’. The other either Kanaya, or maybe, Jade?

Who knows.

The point is, before you can fully turn your head to them, the carousel starts up behind you.

The metal creaks and whirs, and the little blaring bell rings, and you can’t even focus on it, or be scared, or remember your little acting role in all of this.

Because Karkat Vantas is kissing you.

His hand is warm on the back of your neck.

His lips are so soft, but not too soft. You feel them, strong and moving against yours.

And his breath is sweet.

And your own air is just taken away.

Because all of a sudden, you feel it.

Galaxies burst into being in your chest, in your soul.

The mark on your chest burns, for a split second. Like the worst itch imaginable. And then it’s gone, and Karkat is panting against your mouth. And you’re leaning down to him, hearing a wolf whistle in the background, and sarcastic clapping from Rose.

And you know.

Holy shit.

There’s so much intent, and there’s so much knowledge and incredible awe in Karkat’s eyes. And you feel like you’re going to throw up, it’s so much.

You know.

He’s yours.

Yours.

He’s your soulmate.