#it means a lot when people try to make it easier

[anakinstwinklebunny]

Fake dating with hockey player Anakin 😵‍💫😵‍💫

HOCKEY PLAYER!ANAKIN HEADCANONS

Author's note: have no idea if you meant headcanons or fic so im sorry :// also this is also an opportunity for me to ask anyone who want to send a request to be more specific! It helps a lot

You should have said no.

You knew it'd be a disaster when ANAKIN SKYWALKER said, "I need a fake girlfriend."

And you need a freaking bag full of money

The words had barely left his stupid, pretty mouth before you rolled your eyes and continued walking. But, of course, he'd not let you go that easily. He chased after you, hockey bag slung over his shoulder, smelling like cologne and screaming trouble.

"C’mon, bookworm. It’s just for a little while. My ex won’t leave me alone, and Coach says I need to ‘grow up’ and ‘be responsible.’ You’re, like, the most responsible girl I know.”

Your mistake? Stopping to listen.

Your second mistake? Agreeing.

HOCKEY PLAYER!ANAKIN who sat with you to set the rules;

"Alright, we need some ground rules,” you began, tone serious as you laid your notebook flat on the table.

Anakin leaned back in his chair, arms crossed and that signature cocky smirk on his face. "Go ahead, princess. What rules you got in mind?"

You rolled your eyes at the nickname, ignoring the way his gaze lingered on your lips for a second too long. "First off, no unnecessary touching."

He raised an eyebrow, smile widening. "Unnecessary? So what's necessary touching? Hand-holding? Arm around your waist? Kissing?"

Your face heated up instantly, and you cleared your throat, trying to ignore the flutter in your stomach. "Only in public, and only when we have to sell it," you replied, writing it down in your notebook, though your hand shook slightly..if your mother would see this, she would instantly deprive you

Anakin chuckled softly, leaning in closer over the table. "Does that mean I get to kiss you whenever people are watching? Maybe slip a hand down to—"

"Rule two!" you cut him off, cheeks flaming as you forced yourself to focus. At least one of you had to be focused "No… suggestive comments."

"Can’t promise that, sweetheart."

You glared at him, though the effect was ruined by how hot your skin felt. "You have to try."

"Fine, fine," Anakin waved it off playfully. Then he leaned forward, a glint of mischief in his eyes as he took your notebook from your hands, flipping it closed. "My turn for some rules."

You blinked, confused. "Your rules? I thought this was—"

"Rule one," he interrupted "When we’re together, you don’t look at anyone else but me."

You scoffed, trying to sound unaffected, but the possessiveness in his tone made something inside you stir. "And why would I need to look at you all the time?"

His lips curled into a slow smirk as his eyes locked with yours. "Because if we’re selling this, I want people to know you’re mine. Fake or not, you’ll have to act the part."

"Fine. But that goes both ways."

"Of course, princess," he said, winking. "I wouldn’t dream of looking anywhere else."

You bit the inside of your cheek, trying to keep your composure as he continued. "Rule two: when we’re alone, we still act like we're dating."

Your eyebrows shot up. "Wait, why? No one’s around to see it."

"Because I want you to get used to it," he said, voice low and teasing. "It’ll make things easier in public, right?"

You swallowed hard, trying to form a retort, but the way he was looking at you had your words caught in your throat. The way he said it—like he was daring you to admit just how much he was getting under your skin—made your heart race.

You let out a heavy sigh, feeling your cheeks flush again as you looked away. "Fine. But if you cross any lines, this deal is off."

"I wouldn't dream of it"

He nodded at whatever you've been lecturing him about before he leaned back in his chair with that cocky grin of his. "Agreed. But there’s one thing I won’t agree to—you can’t limit how many times I call you my pretty little girlfriend."

He tapped his chin, pretending to be deep in thought. “Hmm... how about rule three? You have to wear something of mine to class.”

"Wait, what?" You blinked, caught off guard.

He smirked, clearly enjoying your reaction. "You heard me. Just something simple. A sweatshirt, a jacket—anything. It’ll make the whole thing look more real."

You let out a breath, shaking your head but still writing it down. "Alright, anything else, mister 'I’m perfect’?"

He chuckled, leaning forward now, arms on the table “Oh, I’ve got one more. You have to come to my games. Obvious, right?”

You raised an eyebrow but wrote it down anyway, handing the paper to him with a sigh. “Sign it.”

He scanned over the rules with exaggerated care for someone like him, then grabbed the pen and signed it with a flourish. "With pleasure, pretty girl."

HOCKEY PLAYER!ANAKIN who walked you to another class;

Ball rang and you stepped out of your classroom, only to lock eyes with the devil himself. Anakin stood a few feet away, surrounded by his friends from the hockey team. When your eyes locked, a smirk tugged at his lips before he excused himself from the group and made his way towards you.

"What are you doing here?" You whispered, heart pounding at the sight of him.

He gave you a charming smile, hand quickly finding its way to the small of your back as he leaned in close "I’m here to walk you to your next class, of course."

You stiffened at the unexpected contact, but he didn’t seem to notice, of care, as he led you through the bustling hallway. His hand slid even lower, brushing your pocket, before coming dangerously close to your ass. "What are you doing?" You hissed, voice barely carrying an edge of irritation.

His hand didn’t move though, instead it pressed against you as if to make a point, before sliding in fully to your pocket..on your ass.. His voice got lower, just for you to hear. "I’m just doing my part to sell it, pretty girl. Can’t have everyone think I’m not totally smitten with my girlfriend, can we?"

He glanced around, clearly taking pleasure in the stares from other students. "See? They’re all watching us."

"I don't like that," voice tense but a little breathless from the mix of discomfort and... something else you refused to acknowledge

He grinned again, sensing your unease, and leaned in closer, his hand giving your ass a tiny, teasing squeeze. "Come on, loosen up. You’ve got to act like you enjoy it when I touch you if we’re gonna make this look real." His tone softened for a moment as his gaze met yours. "Where’s your class? Can’t walk around aimlessly with you."

"Chemistry... second floor." You said, words escaping your lips almost automatically as youso desperately tried to focus on something else to keep your composure.

Anakin nodded, still trailing behind you, large hand slipping down a little further, lingering just below your waist as he gave your bum a subtle pat. His words came out smoothly, as if this was just another normal conversation between a boyfriend and his girlfriend. "Looks like we’re headed to the second floor then, sweetheart." then he continued "So, how were classes today? Anything exciting? Any tests?"

"It was okay..." You muttered, wanting the conversation to be over.

He chuckled, clearly not buying it. The grip on your hip only tightened as he pulled you closer, breath warm against your ear. "Just ‘okay’? C’mon, at least one thing had to be interesting." His hand gave your ass a firmer squeeze, body pressing up against yours as you both moved up the stairs.

"Anakin, the PDA, remember?" You whispered, trying to pull away just a little.

He smirked, eyes scanning the hall to make sure no one was paying too much attention. When he didn’t spot anyone, he leaned in, lips brushing the shell of your ear. "I’m just keeping up our cover, baby. Can’t have anyone thinking you don’t like my touch, now, can we?" voice sending a shiver down your spine.

"I want to stab you." You muttered

He laughed "Now now, let’s not get too violent. It’s not very ‘girlfriend-like’ to be plotting to stab your boyfriend, is it?" He teased, amusement screaming from his eyes

You furrowed your brows, about to fire back a retort when Anakin closed the gap between you, pressing his lips to yours in a swift kiss before pulling away. His hand gave your ass one final squeeze, smirk never leaving his face as he whispered. "See you after class, pretty girl." And even when he left, you swore you could still feel his touch on your body..and it definitely did not help you treat this as a normal «fake dating» thing

HOCKEY PLAYER!ANAKIN whose eyes made you feral - the way he looked down at you, a little too possessive, a little too protective, a little just too much for your liking. Gaze didn't leave you for a second while you would speak, eyes would soften, be so hypnotized/captivated by you, you caught yourself thinking if he was really pretending

HOCKEY PLAYER!ANAKIN who shamelessly grabbed your hand in front of his teammates..which obviously was flustering for you but weird for his friends, cause since when THE Anakin Skywalker dated some random?

HOCKEY PLAYER!ANAKIN who brought you to parties;

You should have stayed at home.

The party was loud, sweaty, too overwhelming— simply and shortly, not your scene at all. But Anakin had looked at you with those stupid, stupid big blue eyes and said, «I need you there, bookworm. Just one night. It's in the deal, remember?»

So you were standing in the middle of someone's packed house, hugging a solo cup to your chest, while Anakin—the guy you’re fake dating for reasons you’re still not sure of—was locked in an intense stare-down with his ex.

Padmé Amidala. The school’s golden girl. The one everyone thought Anakin would marry someday.

And maybe that's why your stomach curled in a way you couldn't process right now. The idea of competition, the thought of the real reason you were kind of stuck to fake-dating Anakin hit you like a wall.. He was doing it for her. To win her back, in this weird, so-anakin-like way..

Suddenly, before you can contemplate further, Anakin’s turning to you, hands finding your waist. Breath is warm against your ear when he leaned down.

"Kiss me."

Your brain short-circuits. What?

"What?" you echoed dumbly. The music was too loud, the bass feeling like it shook the floor. It all mixed with your beating rapidly heart in the perfect rhythm

"Kiss me," Anakin repeated, voice lower, rougher. His eyes are still trained on Padmé across the room, but his fingers squeezed your waist just enough to make your stomach do a flip.

Twice.

You didn't even have enough time to think properly

Because Anakin cupped your face and crashed his lips with yours. The kiss was deep, hungry, a little desperate. His tongue slide against yours, and your knees literally went weak. None ever kissed you this way..none kissed you in general with such..passion.. precision, as if he was too skilled in this matter

His hands tightened on your waist after he deepened the kiss, pressing you back against the nearest wall as if the idea of any space between you frustrated him.

You're gone. Done. Wrecked. Destroyed. Out of any power.

When he finally pulled away, with those pink lips glistening, being swollen, sinful, tempting, even. He swiped his thumb across your bottom lip, wiping away the evidence of what he just did.

You stared at him dazedly

"Too stunned to speak, kitty cat?" Anakin smirked breathlessly

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[ijustmissyouraccenths]

A Real Good Doctor (Part 2)

Doctor Harry

Part One

Where Y/N and Harry run into each other and one thing leads to the next.

Word Count: 8,273

Content Warning: Mentions of blood, falling, surgery, and light smut.

Harry pulls open the door to the café, stepping aside to let Y/N walk out first before following close behind. The air is crisp, carrying the scent of muffins  from the bakery next door. They walk side by side in a comfortable silence for a moment, sipping their coffees as the city moves around them.

Then, without any hesitation, Harry speaks. “Why didn’t you text me?”

Y/N glances up at him, caught off guard by how straightforward he is. He is not teasing, not smirking just asking. She shifts her coffee cup between her hands, looking down at the sidewalk as they walk.

“I didn’t think I was supposed to,” she says honestly. “I figured the number was just for medical stuff. Like if something went wrong with the stitches.”

Harry nods slowly, considering that. “That’s fair,” he says. “But you could’ve texted anyway.”

She exhales, still looking ahead. “I just didn’t want to bother you,” she admits. “You’re a doctor. You have way more important things to deal with.”

Harry stops walking for a moment, and she pauses too, turning to face him. He studies her for a second, then shakes his head. “I wouldn’t have given you my number if I didn’t mean it.”

Y/N presses her lips together, feeling a small pang of regret. She had not considered that. She had assumed it was just a polite gesture, nothing more.

She nods, shifting slightly on her feet. “I guess I didn’t think about it that way.”

Harry gives a small shrug. “Well. Now you know.”

There is no pressure in his tone, no expectation—just a simple statement. And somehow, that makes it feel even more significant.

Harry takes another sip of his coffee, his gaze flicking toward Y/N before he speaks again. “It’s not every day you rescue a cute girl off the sidewalk.”

Y/N lets out a short laugh, shaking her head. “Is that in the medical textbooks? Proper procedure for stumbling across injured pedestrians?”

He smirks slightly. “Something like that.”

The conversation settles between them as they continue walking, the cold air biting just a little more now that they are no longer inside the café. Y/N tucks one hand into her coat pocket, shifting her coffee cup to the other as they pass a row of shop windows, each one glowing softly with warm light. The displays are decorated for the upcoming holidays, twinkling string lights casting a golden hue onto the sidewalk.

Harry glances at one of the windows, where an array of books is stacked beneath a sign that reads Winter Reads to Get Lost In. Y/N follows his gaze, her lips twitching slightly.

“You a big reader?” she asks.

He hums, considering. “Not as much as I’d like to be. Work keeps me busy.”

She nods, taking another sip of her drink before tilting her head slightly. “Speaking of work, what kind of doctor are you?”

“Trauma surgeon,” he answers easily.

Her eyebrows raise slightly. “That sounds… intense.”

He gives a small shrug. “It can be.”

She studies him for a moment. “So my knee was probably the least exciting thing you’ve had to deal with.”

He huffs a quiet laugh. “I wouldn’t say that. At least you were conscious. That’s more than I can say for a lot of my patients.”

Y/N winces slightly at that, imagining the kind of high-stakes situations he must deal with on a daily basis. “And you still had the energy to stop for coffee and go on a run?”

“I try,” he says. “Some days are easier than others.”

She watches him as they walk, noting the way his shoulders sit slightly tense, like he is used to carrying more weight than just his own.

“So when you’re not patching people up, running, and drinking overpriced coffee, what do you do?” she asks, shifting the conversation to something lighter.

Harry glances at her, the corner of his mouth lifting slightly. “You make it sound like I have no life.”

She grins. “Do you?”

He laughs under his breath. “I guess you’ll have to stick around and find out.”

Y/N rolls her eyes but feels herself smiling as they continue walking, the city stretching out ahead of them.

As they walk, their conversation flows effortlessly, jumping from books to coffee preferences to the best running routes in the city. The air is crisp, but the warmth of their drinks and the easy conversation makes it feel less biting.

After a brief lull, Harry glances at Y/N, his expression thoughtful. “What are you doing this weekend?”

Y/N hums, taking a sip of her coffee. “Not much, I think. Why?”

He hesitates for only a second before saying, “I was thinking… maybe we could get dinner?”

She slows her steps slightly, looking up at him. There is no teasing in his expression, no smugness—just a simple, casual invitation.

“Oh,” she says, a little caught off guard, though pleasantly so. “Like a ‘thank you for stitching me up’ dinner or…?”

Harry smirks. “I mean, if that’s what you want to call it.”

Y/N bites her lip, suppressing a smile. “I think I could be convinced.”

“Good,” he says with a nod. “Any place in mind?”

She thinks for a moment before her eyes light up. “There’s this Thai place I love, but it’s kind of a hole in the wall.”

Harry raises a brow. “You’re not talking about Saap Thai, are you?”

Y/N’s jaw drops slightly. “Wait—you know it?”

“Know it?” He scoffs. “I’ve been going there for years. Best pad see ew in the city.”

She laughs, shaking her head. “I don’t know whether to be impressed or concerned that we both love the same obscure Thai place.”

Harry grins. “I’d say it’s a good sign.”

Y/N pretends to consider. “Fine. I guess I can meet you there this weekend.”

“Looking forward to it,” he says, his voice warm.

As they continue walking, Y/N feels a quiet excitement settle in her chest. A few weeks ago, she never would have imagined any of this happening. But now, here she was—planning dinner with the doctor who quite literally picked her up off the sidewalk.

Their walk naturally loops back around to the coffee shop, the familiar scent of espresso and baked goods greeting them once more. Through the window, Y/N spots Poppy sitting at a small table near the front, scrolling on her phone, but not-so-subtly glancing up every few seconds as if to check on her progress.

Harry follows her gaze and nods. “Looks like your friend is waiting.”

Y/N exhales, part of her wishing she had a little more time before they had to part ways. “Yeah, I should probably get back before she starts interrogating me.”

Harry smirks, shifting his coffee cup between his hands. “I should let you go, then.” He tilts his head slightly. “But I’ll see you this weekend?”

Y/N nods, feeling an unfamiliar flutter in her stomach. “Yeah. Looking forward to it.”

There is a brief pause before Harry steps closer, wrapping one arm around her in an easy, natural hug. For a second, she freezes, caught off guard, but then she relaxes into it, letting her arms wrap around him in return.

He is warm, solid, and his scent—clean, fresh, with a hint of something woodsy—lingers in the air between them. It is the same scent she noticed in his car, the same one that clung to his hoodie when he had wrapped her knee. Now, pressed against him, she can tell it is just him, and something about that makes her heart pick up slightly.

Harry pulls back first, his expression unreadable but not unkind. “Take care of yourself, alright?”

Y/N nods, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear as she steps back toward the door. “You too, Doctor.”

He huffs out a quiet laugh before turning and walking down the street, disappearing into the flow of city traffic.

Taking a deep breath, Y/N steps back inside the café, bracing herself for the inevitable interrogation waiting at Poppy’s table.

The moment Y/N steps inside, Poppy looks up from her phone, her eyes already wide with excitement. She doesn’t even try to hide her smirk as she leans forward on the table, both hands wrapped around her coffee cup like she has been waiting for this moment all her life.

“Well?” Poppy says, dragging out the word. “Are you going to tell me, or do I have to start guessing?”

Y/N sighs, setting her coffee down before sliding into the chair across from her. “Nothing happened,” she says, though the warmth in her face betrays her.

Poppy scoffs. “Nothing happened? Babe, I watched you walk off with a literal doctor who carried you through the streets of New York. And then you come back forty minutes later looking all—” She gestures vaguely at Y/N. “Like that.”

Y/N raises a brow. “Like what?”

“Like someone who just got asked on a date,” Poppy says, eyes sparkling.

Y/N groans, covering her face for a second before peeking through her fingers. “Okay. Fine. Maybe he asked me to dinner this weekend.”

Poppy gasps dramatically, nearly knocking over her coffee. “I KNEW IT!” She slaps the table, drawing the attention of the barista behind the counter. “I knew there was something there! Oh my god, tell me everything. Where? When? What did he say?”

Y/N sighs, unable to fight back a small smile as she leans back in her chair. “We’re going to that little Thai place we love.”

Poppy gasps again, clutching her chest like she has just received the best news of her life. “Oh, this is fate. This is a rom-com. He just happens to love the same restaurant? Babe, this is how love stories start.”

Y/N rolls her eyes, but the truth is, a small part of her is thinking the same thing.

“It’s just dinner,” she says, though even she does not sound convinced.

Poppy grins knowingly, stirring her coffee. “Mmmhmm. Sure. And next week, I’ll be helping you pick out an outfit for date number two.”

Y/N shakes her head, laughing, but she does not deny it.

On the weekend, Y/N stands in front of her closet, scanning through her options with a mix of excitement and nerves. It had been a while since she had gone on a proper date, and despite telling herself that this was just dinner, she could not ignore the way her stomach fluttered at the thought of seeing Harry again.

She pulls out a nice top, something flattering but not too dressy, and pairs it with high-waisted pants that hug her just right. She slips on a pair of flats, knowing she wants to be comfortable but still put together. The outfit is simple, effortless, exactly the balance she wants to strike.

Stepping in front of the mirror, she smooths her hands over the fabric and exhales. Her hair falls just right, and her makeup is light but enough to make her feel confident. She wants to look nice without feeling like she is trying too hard.

Checking the time, she grabs her purse and phone before heading toward the door. Her heart beats a little faster as she steps out, the anticipation settling in as she makes her way to the Thai restaurant where Harry is waiting.

Y/N arrives at the Thai restaurant just a few minutes early, the familiar scent of spices and sizzling dishes drifting through the air as she approaches the entrance. The small, tucked-away spot is just as cozy as she remembers, warm light spilling from the windows onto the sidewalk. She pulls open the door, stepping inside, her pulse quickening slightly as she glances around.

Harry is already there. He stands near the entrance, scanning the room before his eyes land on her. His expression shifts instantly, a small, genuine smile appearing as he takes her in. He looks effortlessly put together in a dark button-up with the sleeves casually rolled to his forearms, paired with well-fitted trousers. He looks good—really good.

��Hey,” he greets, stepping forward slightly. “You made it.”

She laughs softly. “Would’ve been awkward if I didn’t.”

He smirks, then gestures toward the host stand. “I got us a table. Ready to eat?”

“Absolutely,” she says, feeling the warmth of anticipation settle in her chest.

The host leads them to a small table near the window, tucked away just enough for them to have some privacy. The restaurant hums with quiet conversations and the clinking of plates, the atmosphere intimate but relaxed. They sit across from each other, the flickering candle on the table casting a soft glow over their faces.

Harry leans back slightly, resting his forearm on the table as he glances over the menu. “So, do you already know what you’re getting, or are you one of those people who has to read through the whole thing every time?”

Y/N tilts her head playfully. “I like to consider all my options.”

He huffs a quiet laugh. “I already know what I’m getting.”

“Let me guess. Pad see ew?”

Harry raises a brow, impressed. “Good memory.”

She shrugs, smirking slightly. “You said it was the best in the city.”

He nods, then gestures to her. “What about you?”

“I always go for the green curry,” she says, setting the menu down.

“Solid choice,” he acknowledges, closing his own menu just as their server approaches. They place their orders, and once the server leaves, Harry leans in slightly, his gaze settling on her with quiet curiosity.

“So,” he says, “is this the part where we ask all the typical first-date questions?”

Y/N arches a brow. “Is that what this is?”

He tilts his head slightly, considering. “Would you be here if it wasn’t?”

She exhales a soft laugh, shaking her head. “No, I wouldn’t.”

His lips twitch with amusement. “Good to know.”

She sips her water, meeting his gaze. “Alright, then. Typical first-date questions. What made you want to be a doctor?”

Harry thinks for a moment, his fingers tapping idly against the table. “I guess I’ve always liked the idea of being able to help people. My mum was a nurse, so I grew up around it. Seeing the way she cared for people, how she made a difference in their lives��I wanted to be able to do the same.”

Y/N listens intently, watching the way his expression softens slightly when he talks about it. There is no arrogance in his voice, no sense of self-importance. Just sincerity.

“That’s a good reason,” she says, nodding.

He shrugs lightly. “What about you? What do you do?”

“I work in publishing,” she says. “Mostly editing manuscripts before they go to print. It’s not quite as life-saving as your job, but it has its moments.”

“Don’t sell yourself short,” he says. “Books have probably saved more lives than I have.”

She smiles at that, tilting her head. “That might be the nicest thing anyone has said about my job.”

Their conversation flows easily, moving from work to travel, to childhood memories, to the small quirks that make them who they are. Time seems to slip away as the food arrives, the dishes filling the space between them as they eat and talk, neither of them feeling the need to check the time.

At some point, Y/N realizes how natural this feels—how easy it is to be here with him, to talk to him like they have known each other longer than just a few weeks. It is effortless, but not in a way that feels fleeting. It feels like something that could last.

And judging by the way Harry looks at her, like he is just as caught up in the moment as she is, she thinks he might feel the same way.

They were caught up in the moment, lost in the conversation, in the warmth of good food and easy laughter, until the sudden vibration of Harry’s phone cut through it. He barely noticed it at first, but when it rang again, more insistent this time, he sighed and pulled it from his pocket.

His eyes flicked to the screen, and immediately, his expression shifted. His relaxed demeanor tensed, his jaw setting as he read the caller ID.

“Sorry,” he murmured, glancing at Y/N before standing. “I have to take this.”

She nodded, watching as he stepped away from the table, pressing the phone to his ear. She could not hear much, just the low hum of his voice as he spoke in short, clipped sentences. His hand raked through his hair at one point, his posture stiff as he listened to whatever was being said on the other end.

When he finally returned, his expression was tight, his lips pressed together in a way that told her the night was about to change.

“I have to go,” he said, exhaling through his nose. “There was an accident. I need to scrub in.”

Y/N immediately sat up, nodding in understanding. “Of course. Go.”

He hesitated, glancing at the half-finished plates in front of them. “I feel bad cutting this short.”

She smiled softly. “You don’t have to. This is your job. People need you.”

His brows furrowed slightly, like he wanted to say something else, but he did not have time to linger.

“I’ll pay for it,” she added, waving a hand. “Consider it repayment for saving my leg.”

Harry shook his head, clearly not liking the idea. “I should at least—”

“Harry,” she interrupted gently, tilting her head toward the door. “Go.”

He sighed, but there was a flicker of appreciation in his eyes. Without another word, he stepped forward and wrapped her in a quick hug. It was warm, firm, and over too soon.

“Rain check?” he asked as he pulled back.

She smiled. “Absolutely.”

He lingered for only a second before nodding and rushing out the door, disappearing into the night.

Y/N watched him go, the space he left behind feeling oddly empty. With a quiet breath, she sat back down, staring at the table before shaking her head with a small smile.

So much for a typical first date.

When Y/N got home, she kicked off her flats, set her purse down, and immediately pulled out her phone. She already knew Poppy was waiting for an update, probably pacing her apartment in anticipation.

Y/N: So… the date was going great.

It took less than five seconds for Poppy to reply.

Poppy: WAS??? Babe, what happened???

Y/N: His job called. There was an accident, and he had to go into surgery.

Poppy: NOOOO. You’re telling me your date got interrupted because he had to go save lives?? That’s both tragic and ridiculously hot.

Y/N: I mean… yeah, basically.

Poppy: Ugh. What a man. Okay, but how was it before he had to go be a hero?

Y/N: Honestly? It was really nice. We talked, laughed, and we even like the same Thai place. It was just easy.

Poppy: So you like him.

Y/N stared at the message for a second before sighing.

Y/N: Yeah. I do.

Poppy: I KNEW IT.

Y/N: But what if his schedule is always like this? What if this happens all the time?

Poppy: That’s something you’ll figure out if it turns into something serious. Right now? It’s one date. And judging by the way you’re texting me, I don’t think it’s going to be the last.

Y/N chewed on her lip, thinking about the way Harry had hugged her before leaving, the way he had asked for a rain check like he wanted to see her again.

Y/N: Yeah… maybe not.

Poppy: Oh, babe. You’re done for.

Y/N laughed, shaking her head before tossing her phone onto the couch. Maybe Poppy was right. Maybe she was done for. But strangely enough, she did not mind the thought.

Later that night, as Y/N sat curled up on her couch, half-watching a show she had no real interest in, her phone lit up with an incoming call. The name on the screen made her heart stutter for a second.

Harry.

She hesitated, unsure if he had meant to call her or if it was some kind of mistake. But after a moment, she swiped to answer, bringing the phone to her ear.

“Hello?” she said cautiously.

“Hey,” Harry’s voice came through, low and warm, a little more tired than it had been earlier. “I hope it’s okay that I called.”

Y/N sat up slightly, tucking her legs beneath her. “Yeah, of course. I just… wasn’t sure if you meant to.”

He let out a quiet chuckle. “I did. Texts felt too informal. I felt bad about leaving so abruptly and—” He paused for a second. “I don’t know. I wanted to hear your voice.”

Her stomach flipped slightly at that. She swallowed, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. “You really didn’t have to feel bad, you know. You were literally saving lives.”

“Still,” he murmured, then exhaled. “How was the rest of your night?”

“Uneventful,” she admitted. “Poppy demanded a full debrief, obviously.”

Harry huffed a quiet laugh. “I can only imagine.”

Y/N smiled before tilting her head slightly. “How did surgery go?”

There was a brief pause, then a sigh on the other end. “It was rough,” he admitted. “Multiple injuries, a lot of moving pieces. But we managed. Patient’s stable now, which is what matters.”

Y/N could hear the exhaustion in his voice, the weight of whatever he had dealt with tonight still lingering. She could not even begin to imagine the kind of pressure that came with his job.

“You must be exhausted,” she said softly.

“Yeah,” he admitted, “but I wanted to check in.”

A warmth spread through her chest at that. “Well,” she said, smiling slightly, “I appreciate it.”

There was a quiet hum on the other end, followed by a brief silence that felt comfortable rather than awkward.

“Rain check still on?” he asked eventually.

Y/N’s smile widened. “Yeah. It is.”

“Good,” he murmured. “I’ll let you get some sleep, then. Just wanted to call.”

“Thanks for calling, Harry.”

“Night, Y/N.”

As she hung up, she stared at her phone for a long moment, unable to shake the small, ridiculous smile that had settled on her face.

The next morning, Y/N woke up to a text from Harry. She had not been expecting it so soon, but seeing his name pop up on her screen brought an immediate warmth to her chest.

Harry: Morning. Hope you slept well.

She smiled, rubbing the sleep from her eyes before responding.

Y/N: Morning. I did, surprisingly. You?

A few minutes passed before her phone buzzed again.

Harry: As well as I could after a long shift. But I’ve got the evening off. I was thinking… if you feel comfortable, maybe we could have dinner at mine instead of a restaurant.

Y/N sat up a little straighter, rereading the message.

Harry: A proper date this time. No stitches involved.

She huffed out a quiet laugh, shaking her head.

Y/N: That does sound like an upgrade.

Harry: I promise I won’t make you run this time either.

Y/N: You’re really selling this.

Harry: So is that a yes?

She hesitated for only a second, not because she was unsure, but because the idea of going to hisplace made this feel a little more personal, a little more real. But she wanted that.

Y/N: Yeah. I’d like that.

Harry: Perfect. I’ll cook. Do you like red or white wine?

Y/N: Red. But now I feel bad that you’re doing all the work.

Harry: You can bring dessert if it’ll make you feel better.

Y/N: Deal.

Harry: See you at seven?

Y/N: See you then.

She set her phone down, feeling an unfamiliar flutter in her stomach. This was different from meeting at a restaurant. This was stepping into his world, seeing him outside of work, outside of the rushed moments they had shared so far.

Y/N stood in front of Harry’s door, balancing a sheet of homemade brownies in one hand while smoothing down her sweater with the other. She took a deep breath, trying to shake off the last bit of nerves before pressing the doorbell.

Within seconds, the door swung open, and there he was. Harry, in a dark knit sweater and fitted jeans, his hair slightly tousled, looking far more relaxed than he had the last time she was here.

“You actually baked?” he asked, glancing down at the brownies with a small smirk.

She scoffed. “Excuse me, I happily took on the responsibility of dessert.” She lifted the tray slightly. “And these are homemade, by the way. Not store-bought.”

Harry placed a hand over his heart dramatically. “I’m honored.”

She rolled her eyes, laughing, as he stepped aside to let her in. The warmth of his home greeted her instantly, the scent of something rich and savory filling the air. He reached for her coat, sliding it off her shoulders before hanging it by the door.

“Make yourself at home,” he said, gesturing toward the living room as he took the brownies from her.

Y/N stepped further inside, taking in the space properly for the first time. The last time she had been here, her focus had been entirely on her bleeding knee, on not ruining his furniture with her mess. Now, she could actually look.

His home was beautiful, but not in a showroom kind of way. It was warm and lived-in, filled with small details that made it feel personal. A large bookshelf lined one of the walls, stacked with an impressive mix of medical journals, classic literature, and a few well-worn novels that she suspected were old favorites. A record player sat near the corner, a small stack of vinyls beside it. The couch looked plush and inviting, a cozy knit blanket draped over the armrest.

“This place is beautiful,” she said, turning back to him. “I can actually appreciate it now that I’m not panicking about getting blood everywhere.”

Harry chuckled, setting the brownies on the counter before leaning against it. “Yeah, you were a little preoccupied last time.”

She smirked. “Just a bit.”

He crossed his arms, watching her as she took everything in. “Wine?”

She turned toward him, nodding. “Please.”

As he grabbed the bottle and two glasses, she let herself settle into his space, feeling more at ease than she had expected. This already felt different from their rushed encounters before. This was slower, intentional, and as Harry poured the wine, she realized just how much she was looking forward to the night ahead.

Harry poured the wine, handing her a glass before raising his own slightly. “To a proper date,” he said with a small smirk.

Y/N clinked her glass against his. “No injuries this time,” she added before taking a sip. The deep red was smooth and rich, warming her instantly.

Harry leaned against the counter, watching her with an amused expression. “So, homemade brownies, huh?”

She arched a brow. “Surprised?”

“A little,” he admitted, tilting his head. “Didn’t peg you for the baking type.”

Y/N scoffed, feigning offense. “Excuse me, I am a woman of many talents.”

He smirked. “Oh yeah? Like what?”

She tapped her fingers against her glass, pretending to think. “Well, I can run—most of the time, without falling. I can read an entire novel in a day. And I make a mean grilled cheese.”

Harry laughed, taking a sip of his wine. “Impressive resume. But I’m gonna need to try one of these brownies before I believe the baking claim.”

Y/N rolled her eyes. “You’ll be thanking me later.”

He nodded toward the living room. “Come sit while dinner finishes up.”

She followed him to the couch, sinking into the plush cushions as he took the spot next to her. The warmth of his home, mixed with the lingering scent of whatever he had cooking, made everything feel comfortable. Easy.

“So,” she said, turning toward him slightly, “is this how you usually spend your nights off? Cooking elaborate meals and drinking expensive wine?”

Harry huffed a quiet laugh. “Not exactly. My nights off are pretty rare, so when they do happen, I try to enjoy them. Sometimes that means cooking, sometimes it means catching up on sleep.”

Y/N took another sip of wine. “Well, I feel honored that I made the cut.”

“You should,” he teased, smirking over the rim of his glass.

She nudged his knee with hers. “And here I was thinking you were this super serious doctor with no time for fun.”

Harry raised a brow. “You think I’m serious?”

“At work? Absolutely,” she said. “You were all business when you stitched me up.”

“To be fair, you were bleeding all over my floor,” he pointed out.

She laughed, shaking her head. “True. But you did joke about battle scars, so maybe I should’ve known you weren’t completely serious all the time.”

Harry shrugged, the corner of his mouth lifting. “I have my moments.”

Their eyes met, and for a second, the playful teasing faded into something quieter. Warmer. Y/N felt it settle in her chest, the realization that she liked sitting here with him, talking with him like this.

Before she could say anything else, a soft chime sounded from the kitchen. Harry glanced toward it, then back at her. “That would be dinner.”

She smiled, leaning back against the couch. “Alright, Doctor. Show me what you’ve got.”

Harry chuckled, standing up. “Prepare to be impressed.”

Harry made his way to the kitchen, rolling up his sleeves as he moved with practiced ease. Y/N watched him for a moment, sipping her wine, enjoying the sight of him in his element. There was something effortless about the way he moved—graceful, confident, like he belonged in any space he stepped into.

“You need any help?” she called out.

He glanced over his shoulder, smirking. “I’ve got it under control.”

She grinned, setting her glass down before getting up anyway. “I don’t mind playing sous-chef.”

He shook his head but didn’t argue as she wandered over, leaning against the counter beside him. The warm, savory scent of spices and herbs filled the air, and she peeked over his shoulder at the dish he had been preparing.

“That smells amazing,” she said, genuinely impressed.

Harry gave a modest shrug. “It’s a simple dish. Just takes a little time to get the flavors right.”

Y/N raised a brow. “So you can stitch people up and cook? Overachiever.”

He chuckled. “I try.” He glanced at her, a playful glint in his eyes. “What about you? Besides baking world-class brownies, what’s your specialty in the kitchen?”

She exhaled dramatically. “Grilled cheese, remember? I do it really well.”

“Ah, right,” he said, nodding seriously. “That’s a tough one to master.”

She smirked. “Don’t mock me, Styles. You haven’t tried it.”

He held up his hands in surrender. “You’re right. Maybe next time, I’ll let you cook.”

Something about the casual way he said next time made her stomach flip. She busied herself by grabbing a couple of plates from the counter, trying not to read too much into it.

A few minutes later, Harry was plating the food, and Y/N helped set the table. Once everything was ready, they sat across from each other, the dim lighting adding an unexpected intimacy to the moment.

Y/N took her first bite, humming in approval. “Okay, yeah. This is incredible.”

Harry smirked, taking a bite of his own. “I’m glad you approve.”

They ate and talked, falling into the same easy rhythm they had earlier. Y/N learned more about his life outside of work—his love for music, the way he sometimes played the guitar to unwind, his favorite places to travel when he had the rare chance. He asked about her job, about the books she had worked on, about the things she wanted to do outside of publishing.

Time passed quickly, their plates empty before they even realized it.

Harry leaned back in his chair, sipping his wine. “Alright. I think I’m ready to try these famous brownies now.”

Y/N grinned, standing to grab the tray. “Prepare to have your expectations blown.”

She set the brownies down between them, cutting a piece for each of them. Harry took a bite first, pausing as he chewed.

Y/N narrowed her eyes. “If you say anything less than amazing, I’m walking out that door.”

He swallowed, setting his fork down before nodding. “Alright. I won’t say it.”

Her jaw dropped. “Harry.”

His lips twitched, and finally, he gave in. “Fine. They’re amazing.”

She let out a satisfied hum, leaning back in her chair. “That’s what I thought.”

He chuckled, shaking his head. “You’re very competitive.”

“Only when I know I’m right,” she said, flashing him a teasing smile.

Harry took another bite, shaking his head fondly. “Noted.”

The night continued, conversation flowing effortlessly between them. At some point, they had both abandoned the dining table, moving back to the couch with their wine. The music from the record player hummed softly in the background, adding a warmth to the space that Y/N found herself completely at ease in.

Harry motioned toward the couch, nodding for her to join him. “Come sit. I’ll clean up later.”

Y/N hesitated for only a second before giving in, grabbing her wine glass and settling onto the couch beside him. Maybe it was the warmth of the room, the soft music playing in the background, or maybe it was the wine, but she felt drawn to him in a way that was impossible to ignore.

He sat close, not enough to cross any lines, but enough that she could feel the heat radiating from him. He took a slow sip of his wine, his gaze flickering toward her before he smirked.

“You know,” he said, setting his glass down on the coffee table, “for someone who nearly took themselves out with a sidewalk crack, you carry yourself pretty confidently.”

Y/N let out an incredulous laugh, lightly nudging his arm. “Are you ever going to let that go?”

He grinned, tilting his head slightly. “I mean, I did quite literally save your leg. You might owe me a little good-natured teasing.”

She rolled her eyes but could not help the smile tugging at her lips. “Fine. I’ll allow it. But if you ever trip over something, I will be keeping score.”

Harry hummed, pretending to consider. “Fair enough.”

She took another sip of her wine, setting the glass aside before shifting slightly to face him. “So, is this your signature move? Luring women in with wine and homemade meals?”

He raised a brow, smirking. “If it was, do you think it’s working?”

Y/N’s breath hitched slightly, caught off guard by how effortlessly he turned the teasing back on her. She bit her lip, narrowing her eyes. “I think I’m going to need more evidence before I make a final judgment.”

His smirk deepened, his green eyes flickering over her face. “Guess I’ll just have to prove myself, then.”

Something shifted in the air between them, a quiet tension settling in, thick and unspoken. Y/N could feel her heartbeat pick up slightly, her stomach flipping at the way he looked at her—not in a way that was rushed or expectant, but like he was simply waiting. Giving her the space to decide what happened next.

She exhaled, shaking her head with a soft laugh. “You really are annoyingly charming.”

Harry grinned, resting his arm over the back of the couch, his fingers just inches from her shoulder. “I try.”

Harry tilted his head slightly, his smirk softening into something more genuine. “How’s the knee?” he asked, nodding toward her leg.

Y/N glanced down, instinctively reaching for the fabric of her pants before looking back at him. “You want to see your handiwork?”

He chuckled, setting his wine down. “Of course. I take pride in my work.”

Rolling her eyes but smiling, she shifted slightly, pulling up the leg of her pants just enough to reveal the faint scar where his stitches had been. The skin had healed beautifully, barely a trace of the injury left behind.

Harry leaned in slightly, his fingers brushing over her shin just above the scar. “Not bad,” he murmured, tilting his head as he studied it. “Looks like I know what I’m doing.”

She laughed. “I’ll give you credit where it’s due.”

His thumb traced lightly over the skin for just a second before he looked up at her. “You said this one healed better than most?”

Y/N nodded, exhaling through her nose. “Yeah. I’m kind of clumsy. I have a few more from… various unfortunate incidents.”

Harry raised an eyebrow. “Oh? Care to share?”

Smirking slightly, she pulled up the sleeve of her sweater, revealing a faint, thin scar along her forearm. “Kitchen accident. I may or may not have grabbed a baking sheet straight out of the oven without a mitt.”

Harry let out a deep chuckle, shaking his head. “Impressive.”

She moved her hand to her knee, pointing at a faint scar along the side. “This one was from when I fell off my bike as a kid.”

He nodded, his gaze flickering over her skin, his fingers still resting against her shin. “Seems like you’ve been keeping me in business for years without even knowing it.”

Y/N rolled her eyes, but before she could respond, Harry’s voice dropped slightly, his smirk returning.

“Well,” he murmured, his thumb grazing over the edge of her knee, “if you ever need a more thoroughcheck-up…”

Her breath caught as his words sank in. She looked up at him, finding his green eyes already locked on hers, dark with suggestion. His hand rested lightly against her thigh now, the warmth of it seeping through the fabric of her pants.

Her gaze flickered over him—the sharp lines of his jaw, the way his tongue flicked briefly over his bottom lip, the tattoos that curled up his forearm, disappearing beneath the sleeve of his sweater. Everything about him in that moment felt intentional, his presence heavy in the best way possible.

She swallowed, tilting her head slightly. “Is that part of your medical expertise?”

Harry’s smirk deepened, his fingers pressing slightly into her thigh. “Only for special patients.”

Y/N exhaled slowly, her heart hammering against her ribs. She had known there was something between them since the moment he had knelt in front of her on the sidewalk, but now—sitting here, with his hands on her, his voice low and smooth, his eyes watching her like he was waiting for her next move—she realized just how much she wanted to find out where this could go.

Y/N barely had time to process before Harry's hands tightened around her waist, his grip firm but gentle as he pulled her flush against him. The heat from his body engulfed her, the air between them humming with a palpable desire.

His eyes scanned her face intently, gauging her reaction. "Is this okay?" he asked in a hushed tone, his voice hoarse with anticipation.

She nodded, a gasp escaping her lips. It wasn't enough. She nodded once more, this time with urgency, her fingers clutching onto his sweater as if to pull him even closer herself.

That was all the permission he needed.

Harry's lips found hers, tentative at first, seeking permission as their mouths explored each other. But when she responded eagerly, he deepened the kiss with fervor. One of his hands trailed up her back, his fingertips dancing along her spine, while the other hand remained on her thigh, pressing her firmly against him.

His taste was intoxicating – reminiscent of rich red wine that warmed her in a way that made her head swim. It was how he kissed her that left her breathless – unhurried yet confident as if he'd been longing for this moment.

Y/N's hands wandered up to Harry's broad shoulders, feeling the tense muscles beneath her fingers. Her heart raced as he tilted his head, their noses brushing against one another before their tongues tangled in an intimate dance that sent shivers down her spine.

When they finally broke apart just enough to catch their breaths, Harry's forehead rested against Y/N's as they shared a hot exhalation.

"Well," he breathed out, a thumb caressing circles on her hip. "That escalated."

Y/N released a shaky laugh, keeping her eyes closed. "Yeah. Not complaining though."

Harry chuckled softly, tightening his hold momentarily before relaxing again – as if still unsure whether or not to let go. "Me neither."

She opened her eyes, finding his already locked on hers, the green of them dark with desire. He scrutinized her for a moment, and for the first time since this began, he appeared hesitant.

"I don't want to rush anything," he confessed in a gentle whisper. "Tell me if this is too much."

Y/N smiled softly, shaking her head. "It's not."

His lips curved at the corners as his hand moved from her back to cradle her cheek, his thumb stroking softly along her jawline. "Good."

And then, as if that was the reassurance he needed, their mouths fused once again – an explicit display of unspoken yearning. 

Y/N barely had time to catch her breath before Harry kissed her again, deeper this time, like he had been holding back. His hand cradled her face, fingers threading through her hair as he pulled her even closer. The warmth of his body, the way his lips moved against hers—it was overwhelming in the best way.

She felt herself sinking into him, her hands exploring the solid planes of his shoulders, the way his muscles tensed beneath her fingertips. Harry let out a quiet sound against her lips, his grip tightening at her waist before he shifted, guiding her back against the couch.

“Tell me if you want to stop,” he murmured between kisses, his voice rough with restraint.

“I don’t,” she whispered, her breath hitching as his lips trailed along her jaw, down to her neck. “I really don’t.”

Harry exhaled sharply, pressing his forehead against hers for just a moment before nodding. “Come with me,” he said, his voice lower now, edged with something deeper.

He stood, pulling her up with him effortlessly, his hands never leaving her as he guided her toward his bedroom. The moment they stepped inside, the energy shifted—more intimate, more charged. The dim light cast soft shadows across the space, the faint scent of him lingering in the air.

Harry’s hands found her waist again, but this time, they moved slower, more deliberate. His lips hovered just over hers, waiting for her to close the distance. She did.

Their movements became unhurried, hands exploring, lips seeking. Harry took his time, his touch reverent, like he wanted to memorize every part of her. He guided her gently onto the bed, his body pressing against hers, his kisses deepening, his breath growing uneven.

“Are you sure?” he asked one last time, his green eyes searching hers, his thumb stroking slow circles against her hip.

Y/N swallowed, her heart pounding, but there was no hesitation when she whispered, “Yes.”

Harry exhaled like he had been waiting for that, then kissed her again, slow and consuming, as the rest of the world faded away.

The night unfolded slowly, each moment stretching with quiet intensity. Harry took his time, his touch gentle yet sure, as if he was memorizing her, learning her in a way that felt deeply personal. There was something unspoken in the way he moved—no rush, no urgency, just deliberate care, like he wanted her to feel everything, every thrust, to know this was not just a fleeting moment.

Y/N responded in kind, matching his pace, her hands mapping the lines of his body, tracing the tattoos inked into his skin. She felt the strength in him as he moved within her, the way his muscles tensed beneath her touch, the way his breath hitched when she explored the places he liked most, like the spot where his shoulder met his neck. It was intoxicating, feeling him unravel beneath her hands just as much as she was beneath his.

The room was warm, wrapped in the soft glow of the bedside lamp. The faint sound of the city outside was distant, muted by the heavy presence of him—the weight of his body, the heat of his breath, the way he murmured her name against her skin, and the way he moaned with pleasure.

He kissed her deeply, lingering as he pulled back just enough to look at her. “You okay?” he asked softly, his thumb brushing against her cheek, his voice quieter now, rough with emotion.

She nodded, her lips parting as she exhaled, still catching her breath. “Yeah,” she whispered. “More than okay.”

A slow, satisfied smile pulled at his lips before he kissed her again, sealing whatever words might have come next.

Everything about him was careful, intentional. The way he moved, the way he held her, the way he whispered her name like it meant something more. And maybe it did.

By the time they finally settled, tangled in each other beneath the sheets, the night had stretched into early morning. Y/N felt the rise and fall of Harry’s chest beneath her cheek, his arm draped lazily around her, fingers tracing light patterns against her skin.

Neither of them spoke for a while, content in the silence, in the warmth of the moment.

Then, after a long breath, Harry murmured, “That was worth the wait.”

Y/N huffed a quiet laugh against his skin, tilting her head up slightly. “Yeah?”

He looked down at her, his expression softer now. “Yeah.”

She smiled, letting her fingers trail along his arm, tracing one of the tattoos there. “So… do I get to keep my status as your favorite patient?”

Harry chuckled, shaking his head as he tightened his hold around her. “You were always my favorite.”

Y/N felt warmth bloom in her chest at his words, though she knew he was teasing. Mostly.

She sighed, her eyes growing heavy as sleep started to pull at her. “Hope you don’t have an early shift.”

Harry hummed, pressing a slow kiss to her forehead. “Don’t worry about that,” he murmured. “I’m exactly where I want to be.”

And with that, Y/N let herself drift off, safe in the warmth of him. 

Y/N woke to the feeling of warmth surrounding her, the faint scent of something woodsy lingering in the sheets. The room was dim, early morning light barely filtering through the curtains. It took her a moment to remember where she was, why she felt so comfortable, why the bed beneath her wasn’t her own.

Then, she felt movement beside her.

Harry.

She turned her head slightly, blinking the sleep from her eyes as she found him still lying beside her. His arm was draped over his pillow, hair slightly tousled, his breathing slow and steady. He looked completely at peace, his features soft in the early morning light.

A small smile tugged at her lips. She had not expected to wake up like this, wrapped in his sheets, in hisspace, but it felt… nice.

She shifted slightly, stretching out her sore muscles. Harry stirred at the movement, inhaling deeply before his eyes fluttered open.

His gaze met hers, and for a second, he just looked at her, like he was still processing where he was, too. Then, a slow, sleepy smile spread across his face.

“Morning,” he murmured, his voice thick with sleep.

“Morning,” she echoed, her voice quieter now, almost hesitant.

Harry let out a low hum, stretching his arms above his head before rolling onto his side to face her. He reached out, brushing a strand of hair from her cheek. “Sleep okay?”

She nodded, her smile growing. “Yeah. Better than I expected.”

His smirk was lazy, teasing. “Better than your own bed?”

She scoffed, nudging him lightly with her foot beneath the sheets. “Don’t push it.”

He chuckled, letting his hand rest on her hip, his thumb tracing absentminded circles against her skin. The weight of his touch was grounding, making it hard to focus on anything but him.

“Stay for breakfast?” he asked after a moment, his voice quieter now.

Y/N hesitated, not because she didn’t want to, but because she hadn’t expected the night to bleed into the morning like this. She thought maybe she would slip out before he woke up, before they had to talk about what this meant. But now, with him looking at her like that, like he wanted her to stay, she felt the hesitation fade.

“What’s on the menu?” she asked, raising a brow.

Harry grinned. “That depends. Do you trust me in the kitchen?”

Y/N bit her lip, pretending to consider. “I suppose you did impress me with dinner last night.”

He rolled his eyes, tugging her closer playfully. “You’re impossible.”

She laughed, but the sound was cut off when he leaned in, pressing a slow, lingering kiss against her lips. It was different from last night—less urgent, more lazy, like he had all the time in the world to do this.

When he pulled back, he rested his forehead against hers. “So… breakfast?”

Y/N sighed dramatically, pretending to give in. “Fine. But only because I want to see if you’re as good at pancakes as you are at stitches.”

Harry smirked, his fingers grazing over her bare skin beneath the sheets. “Guess you’ll have to stick around and find out.”

She laughed softly, knowing full well that she had no plans of leaving just yet.

[caffinated-squid]

i really liked your eltingville club character analysis’s!!! in the bill one you mentioned how bill was showing vulnerability in the intervention, do you think he was also showing vulnerability at the beginning of this fan this monster? considering how his friends weren’t around for him to belittle or reinforce his power to, i’d love to see an analysis from you for bills behavior in this fan this monster and how joe influenced bill. ty and keep up the good work!! <3

Thank you, happy that you enjoyed them! Regarding Bill in This Fan This Monster, I think it could be argued that it shows up a little bit in the beginning considering that Joe is probably the closest thing that Bill has had to a consistent father figure in his life. Focusing on this comic by itself, (the inclusion of the first comic makes it a bit more confusing) its mentioned in the hospital that his parents are divorced and while when it specifically happened is unclear, his presence is also absent in other Eltingville comics. (excluding the first) 

Bill’s mom probably did not play much of a role in his life as well, considering how much resentment they both have for each other, which can be seen though Bill’s mom preferring to get people to tie him up in a chair for hours to fix his comic obsession rather than just talking to him herself in The Intervention and accusing him of blaming her for the divorce in This Fan This Monster.

In summary, Bill is not on good terms with either of his parents and probably latched onto Joe because he appeared to care about similar interests. (though he just sees Bill more as a source of money rather than an actual person)

** From this, Joe probably influenced Bill's behavior the most since a lot of Joe's behavior seen in This Fan This Monster (saying customers have to be treated like idiots, that women don't actually like comics) reflected in Bill once Joe needs to leave for an emergency and in the Epilogue. (especially in his rant to Mandi)

** Though I don't think that Joe was someone that Bill would ever open up to regarding his personal life and issues, its idolization rather than an actual familial relationship at most

I would say that the beginning of the comic has a mixture of two things, Bill trying to appease and learn from Joe while looking up to him as somewhat of a father figure, but also constantly testing to see how much he can get away with, he is still just as willing to break rules if it means he has easier access to the things he wants. Though that appeasement definitely comes back in when he attempts to blame his friends for the destruction of the comic shop in order to still cling onto the power he just obtained.

On his friends not being around, I don’t think that Bill got better without them present. Although he is the leader of the Eltingville Club, Josh and Pete are there to constantly challenge his opinions which prevents his ego from going completely unchecked. With their absence, you can see Bill’s ego gradually become more inflated the more he is around Joe, getting worse when Joe temporarily puts him in charge. Joe ignores Bill a majority of the time aside from making fun of him for doing grunt work, which allows Bill to believe that he can get away with being an asshole because he now has a higher status, and with this higher status, he doesn’t need a friend group to control.

**I tend to see This Fan This Monster as Bills Icarus moment, in the sense that his ego rises over the comic only for it to come crashing down when he sets the comic shop on fire out of spite.

(Hopefully this answered your question/request! I have 2 other analysis essays I am going to write related to Eltingville, then I'll probably be done and focus on another topic of interest)

[swampgallows]

Transcription:

Wearing a mask was not political, but they made it political, so now wearing a mask is an act of resistance. I don't care how stupid that sounds to you and I'm gonna be very transparent, my goal here is to try to get you to wear a mask. So I need you to take whatever I'm about to say, pick the thing that resonates with you the most, and then have that be what drives you to wear a mask. Trump pulled the U.S. out of the World Health Organization and he instructed the halt of all communications from public health agencies. This includes the CDC, the NIH, the FDA on recalls, so we are even more in the dark than we were before on how bad things are right now. If you've been sick recently, you might know what I'm talking about. Flu A, COVID, Norovirus, all high—high transmission—but now with the halt of communications we are not gonna know what's going on. The CDC already sucked on that—I'll get to that shortly. All across the country, cities have called for and/or enacted bipartisan mask bans. Do you want to know what led to these mask bans? Well, it was anti-genocide protests. They don't want you to be able to hide your face because then you're easier to target. But what is the side effect of this? Going after people who mask to protect their health and the health of those around them. They don't like our calls for a free Palestine. One of these people who called for that was mayor of L.A., Karen Bass, and now that the fires have been raging, of course the city didn't have any stockpile of PPE for all the people who are inhaling ash, and wildfire smoke, and asbestos, and all the other chemicals that are burning with homes in the fires. No, that fell to mutual aid groups, specifically, anti-COVID and clean air groups. In the age of AI under fascist regimes, both Biden but especially Trump, when facial recognition technology can be weaponized against anyone, masking is an act of resistance. And finally, and most importantly, the number one core reason is because COVID still rages on. Wearing a mask is an act of resistance when corporations and billionaire CEOs can lobby the government to shorten COVID isolation periods, and then Biden does so. Since the very beginning of the pandemic when they said, "No, it only affects this group of people", and so we said "Okay, yeah, no, that's not me. We don't have to protect them." They tried to get you to not care, further harming disabled and high risk individuals, and lying to your face in the process because we're all high risk. In 2024 we got to see COVID rip through the Olympic Village. What we did not hear so much about is all of the athletes that didn't make it to the Olympics despite their training all of their lives because they were disabled by COVID. A recent study showed that 1 in 4 U.S. Marines that got COVID met the criteria for Long Covid. Wearing a mask is an act of resistance when COVID cases persist. When you feel sick all the time and everybody is having brain fog and you wonder why you are so tired, when they didn't bother clearly communicating that COVID is airborne, and that it moves like smoke, and that a lot of spread is asymptomatic or pre-symptomatic, meaning you don't feel sick, you don't know you have it, but you're spreading it.

Wearing a mask is an act of resistance when the World Health Organization told us that 10 to 20% of COVID cases result in Long Covid, and that doesn't account for consecutive infections. When that Long Covid can be mild, like the POTS [Postural Orthostatic Tachycardia Syndrome] that I got from my COVID infection while being a previously healthy individual, or it can be severely debilitating and leave you bedbound. Wearing a mask is an act of resistance when you get sick and they want you back to work and they gut worker protections—in a country that provides no universal healthcare, so you're left either in debt or without options, untreated, in a country that loves its Big Pharma and counts on you getting sick. Wearing a mask is an act of resistance when all of this is in the name of capitalism. They do not care if you get sick. They want you betraying your disabled and immunocompromised community members. They do not care that you want to protest for a free Palestine. They do not care that you want to protect your identity from their AI surveillance. They don't care that the general population is sicker than ever. They want you to ignore it, and they want you to attack the people who still wear masks, like myself. They want you to attack the messenger. They do not want you questioning the premature declaration that the pandemic had ended because then they don't have to atone for this: the wastewater data that shows how prevalent COVID still is in our lives. And when you think about how many COVID cases lead to Long Covid, they don't want you thinking about how they allow for the general population to become disabled, because that would mean that it costs them something to prevent it, that would mean that they owe you. By the way, with Trump's halting of communications we can count on this [wastewater data] to go bye-bye because the CDC can't give us that data anymore. Biden gave that "pandemic is over" premature declaration after the Democrats had an internal memo declaring that they would do so because it earns them political points. It would be cheaper to not provide you with what you need and it would score political points by declaring the pandemic a victory on Biden's part. I don't want this video to be too long even though I could go on, but take whatever I just said that resonates with you and have that be what drives you to wear a mask. It is the easiest way to care for your neighbor and simultaneously give Trump the finger. Because we can't do anything if we're all sick, we can't do anything if we're constantly disabling each other. Lock in. [End of transcription.]

"Mask" here refers to a KN95, KF95, or N95 respirator, not a cloth or surgical mask. A cloth or surgical mask is better than nothing, but they are nowhere near as effective at preventing airborne transmission as a well-fitting respirator. The goal is to form an airtight seal against the face so that all incoming and outgoing air you breathe is filtered through the respirator.

If you need access to free or low-cost masks, testing, air purifiers, and more, get in touch with your local mask bloc. Find one near you at CovidActionMap.org.

Listen to her. Please.

[laz-kay]

Having analysed both Brad Bakshi and David Brittlesbee's characters so heavily over the course of the last few years, I can safely say that my theory of them being endgame has solidified.

Now, "endgame" doesn't necessarily mean they need to become romantically involved. I'm saying this as a diehard BradDavid shipper (maybe the BradDavid shipper), but there's a strong probability we have - in fact - been queerbaited with these two mfs. Shocking, I know.

We know there's a female character making an appearance in a later episode, and she's - supposedly - an ex lover of Brad's. I, for one, am thrilled we're getting an insight into Brad's personal life, and I think people are losing sight of that. There is every possibility Brad and David are two straight guys, and I still believe - with this theory - they belong together somehow.

There have been far too many circumstances where David and Brad have found comfort in each other, have shown vulnerability with each other, and have shared interests. The parallels between their characters - despite them being completely juxtaposed versions of the other - are stifling.

Being together doesn't automatically constitute a romantic relationship. Maybe these two trauma-filled individuals deserve to have someone who listens to them, who helps them become a better version of themself, and makes their life that little bit easier.

Brad and David are opposite ends of the same spectrum. The spectrum here being "fear of rejection and getting hurt". They go about hiding this phobia is completely different ways. David - being the open book he is - forces us to think nothing else is going on underneath his surface. He lays it out for all of us to see so we needn't ask about his mental health or his greatest fears, because we believe we already know everything there is to know.

Brad, on the other hand, is ambiguous as fuck. He's an aloof guy who's masquerading as a sociopathic capitalist in order to keep people distant. Keeping people distant - and somewhat frightened of you - means there'll be no questions. No questions means no opportunity for vulnerability, hence no reason to get hurt by any of his colleagues.

Analysing from the first season, it's apparent how much the two have changed; how much they're moving along the spectrum towards each other. Evolving, if you will. David has become more closed off, and Brad - miraculously - has opened himself up to helping people without any ulterior motive/self-gain.

It’s almost as if their job roles have shifted too. David becoming more corporate based and Brad leaning towards creative because of Dana. All David seems to talk about right now is monetary value and how COVID was great because it gave the video game franchise so much revenue. And Brad, despite having money at the back of his mind at all times, does have the creative team at heart. Every financial decision Brad has forced down the team’s throats has somehow benefitted creative more than corporate. Battle Royale? The Casino? Playpennies?

It's as if they're closing in on each other somehow; becoming more like the other because it makes them a better person? Their initial plans of hiding their fears haven't worked, so why not try the mirrored response?

Look, they both come from abusive households, have a crippling fear of losing people close to them, and hate showing vulnerability. There's a lot that is different too, but it's become increasingly obvious that these two dorks need each other in their lives. As friends and companions.

When David asked Brad to help him move, I'm convinced he thought he and Brad were already best friends. Hell, they'd worked together for the better part of a decade, still shared an office at that time, consistently called each other during lockdown to play a dumb video game for a bet, and Brad even helped David find a girlfriend. I'd believe we were buddies if I were David.

Brad is never seen without a long sweater/shirt on. During "Quarantine" when he's on a solo call with David, we see him for the first time in a short sleeved shirt exposing his arms. Almost like a subliminal way of letting Brad express vulnerability without meaning to. He's very slowly becoming softer and more "David-ish", and that's probably a good thing.

Idk, man. I just think these nerds need to get a shift on and move in together or something. Sit and have wine nights and talk about their shared trauma because societal norms suck and men should talk more and have more friends. They need to look after each other, because it's quite clear no one else is/will for a while.

[nahisummerhold]

Love is Love

Daily Writing Challenge February 2025 Day Six - Annoy/Holiday

Walking out in the evenings had been a little thing Nahi had started, she didn’t often go far, but The Shielded Mind was someplace she tended to stop by lately. The woman wasn’t shy by any means, but she did prefer spending time when she wasn’t entertaining with people she knew over total strangers. Constant strangers that felt like they knew you, or felt they had the right to know you up close, was part and parcel of being on stage, but stage Nahi was a lot different than everyday Nahi. This was the first year in a while that she hadn’t been performing and, oddly enough, when she was on stage she didn’t notice a lot of the decorations and celebrations up close, in some ways she was really pleased about it. If she had one more invitation to something where they wanted her to state her sexuality, her current relationship status and some kind of color to let people know what kind of a connection she was there to make she would just throw her hands up about the whole holiday. 

Stopping by a candy vendor she picked up a few bags of cinnamon hearts, some going in her bag, and one opened immediately on her way to the clinic where she spent the much of the night coming up with new ways to describe the holiday each time they said it and sharing cinnamon hearts with Veilos. When Nahi had made the decision back in camp to ask Nara for training she never would have imagined that she would prefer to spend a night talking about vasovagal syncope than at a party somewhere. Six months ago she had sat in the frozen Tournament of Ages grounds and whispered a thought into the air, at the time just thinking of learning how to be more intimate with someone had felt like a life altering change to make, one she was still struggling with if she was honest, but it seemed so miniscule now. They had talked the other night about her luck guiding her to where she was and they couldn’t be more right, she went from living in Dalaran, performing 5-7 nights a week and caring for her mother to buying her first home in Silvermoon, being a mercenary and spending more nights on the stoop of the clinic that she did in some strange bed.  Nahi was challenging herself daily to open herself, which meant she was cutting through layers of emotional scar tissue and all it took was one harsh statement from someone that she was warming to, to annihilate those freshly opened spaces and make her wonder why she was even trying to be more than the damaged child she was inside. Luckily for her, she was stubborn and since people seemed to like her, or she felt they might anyway, it was easier each time to begin moving forward again.

Maybe she was not entirely into Love is in the Air as a holiday for couples, but she was seeing the upside to it being a learning to love herself a bit more holiday.

(@veilosdaigoa for little tag)

@daily-writing-challenge

[chocodile]

Hi ! I’ve been a massive fan through the years, seeing you develop Hyden and his world and how full of life and wonder and details is so awe inspiring and cool! I really love your work and your style is so vibrant and electric! It always makes me happy when I see your posts pass by

I wanted to ask if you had any advice about wanting to share your stories with the world. I get so anxious that no one will care and I’ll just be posting to no one. I don’t want fame , just mutual interaction or have people genuinely curious , hear about others stories and be able to tell my own

How did you start? I don’t want to assume , but you do have so much confidence and are very well spoken in the way you explain your lore, what helped you get over any fears or worries?

Gosh, thank you so much for the compliments! That's so sweet of you to say… it means a lot to me that people enjoy my stuff.

My thoughts on your other questions about sharing stories are long, rambling, and disjointed… apologies in advance for the length, I swear I tried to edit this down:

Regarding sharing stories, I'd say the most useful thing you can possibly have is to have at least one friend you share story stuff with who is totally on board with it and having fun too. I've been coming up with stories and characters my entire life, and only twice have I really had an audience for it. Every other time it was just me and my sister, or me and a couple friends, or me and my wife doing creative stuff semi-privately just for the joy of the craft.

(Of course, I know that's easier said than done… but if you do have creative friends, organizing some plans to share stories with each other, ask questions, create AUs where your OCs from different stories interact with each other, etc can be very psychologically nutritious.)

Regarding feeling anxious, I suppose I never felt much anxiety about it myself, so I'm not sure how to advise there… I was a teenager on Neopets where putting massive amounts of work into character stories that nobody might ever read was the norm… unless you were astronomically popular, it was expected that you would probably never hear from your audience and would never know how many people read your stories. Everything was primarily for your own entertainment, and I carried that approach forward into other creative works. Of course, it's hard not to feel a little self-conscious these days, when you can easily see what people are saying and see who is getting "engagement" and who is not... but I do think that aiming to entertain yourself (and perhaps one or two friends) first and foremost is the healthiest approach. Plus, if you are really invested in something and constantly producing lots of art and info about it, people tend to pick up on that positive energy.

Apologies if this isn't super useful... I know "just don't care and also happen to have a bunch of friends with very specific interests!" is not very helpful advice in itself.

I have many other thoughts on "launching" a story, how to meet other OC creators, and trying to build an audience who interacts with your characters... it's something I've thought about a lot. I can share my insights for others in this boat, if anyone's interested? I'm unsure if I should include them here since it might feel lecture-y to Anon (and also this post is long enough, PHEW). Let me know if you're interested in hearing them though!

[mqriuss]

As an Apt-06 model, does Aptroid reader look like all the other Apt-06’s? Does Rindou walk on the street and get startled by the ghost of your face on a different person? Does he go home and hold Aptroid reader a little closer that night when he recalls seeing snother Apt-06 model left abandoned, bent and broken in a dark rainy alleyway? Or did Renji modify Aptroid reader before sending the package to Rindou’s place, customizing her face and body to be unique so she’s one of a kind despite sharing the same model number with others?

These are all really good questions, but every Aptroid looks different regardless of their model! (Unless for some reason they wanted to invent twins or triplet Aptroids then... yeah, they would look identical lmao). Aptroids look like humans and looking the same (as other Aptroids) would only make them easier to identify. Though maybe the earlier models of Aptroids looked the same until they started increasing in number and things were becoming more advanced so they started getting unique features.

Also 04, 05, 06, and 07 Aptroid models are the same as in they don't have any distinct and visible physical features that differentiates them from each other. The only way to know what model they are is by checking under their tongue with a flashlight, without the flashlight you won't be able to see their code. An example of an Aptroid code looks like this: 0720801230. 07 is the model type, 2080 is the year it was created, 12 is the month it was created and 30 would be the date. Another example: 0520670415.

Ok let's talk about reader's appearance now. Her case is honestly pretty weird cuz she's actually the default LIV Aptroid. To jog your memory, LIV is an Aptroid Girlfriend brand owned by one of the mega corporations in this au.

So... Renji did not customize her at all before giving her to Rindou. And sometimes Rindou really wishes Renji did it for him beforehand. Why? Well, there's two reasons: can you imagine being Rindou, walking along the streets lit up by neon signs and suddenly an advertisement for LIV, a hologram that looks exactly like you walks up to him, and starts flirting with him in ways he has never seen you do.

That, and there's a scene I kinda scrapped from my first post for cyberpunk Rindou where he actually gets a message from Renji saying that he kept her on default because he wasn't sure what kind of appearance and personality Rindou would like in a girlfriend. So then there's a scene of Rindou trying to customize her but... he just can't.

The thing is, most people do that with their Aptroid partners BEFORE interacting with them and normally they keep that appearance forever. Though some people want to use their Aptroid partners as some kind of barbie doll and change up their look every now and then.

But Rindou got to interact with you first. I mean, you literally welcomed him home after work on his birthday and startled him. You were his girlfriend before he even knew it. He felt... weirded out by the idea of changing your whole appearance and personality in general. He's never really thought about dating an Aptroid anyway, so if he ever found someone he likes, he wouldn't try to change them. So he treats you the same way. Also that guy is really chill, he'll get along with just about anyone so it never would have mattered to him.

I like to think Renji brings it up to him like, "you could have the girl of your dreams! Why keep her on default?"

But Rindou would simply shrug, it just feels weird to him. There's no other explanation.

However, Aptroids adapt to their surroundings and the people they spend a lot of time around. So for you, that's Rindou.

(fun fact: the newer models like 06 and 07s have shown to adapt in a quicker timespan compared to older models).

Perhaps it's wishful thinking, but Rindou really does think you've started becoming... real. The LIV advertisements bothered him more in the early stages of your relationship, but over time, he's started to see them as just different people—well, Aptroids—compared to you.

But those are advertisements. The LIV advertisements are customized differently to attract different customers. Not every customer has the same reasons for having Aptroid partners anyway. My point is, Rindou doesn't think the advertisements are actually default LIV Aptroids. You were a default. Your base personality was a standard one. Your body, face and hair type were also default LIV settings. But as time went on, you started feeling more and more like your own person, and Rindou could be a part of the reason. You adapted to him.

So to test this, Rindou would probably go to one of the LIV showrooms and ask for a true default LIV.

(Out of boredom and genuine curiosity of course! He's totally not trying to justify his thoughts about you becoming real)

Anyway, he isn't even given the original and first ever LIV Aptroid because she, too, has adapted to her surroundings. So they show him a new one. And it's hard to describe the way he feels when he interacts with her and compares her to you.

You're just not the same. She isn't his.

collection masterlist

note: kinda wish i could expand more on that last part where he meets a default LIV Aptroid, i might do that in a separate post one day, but here's what i got for you guys today! and happy valentines <3

[fragmented-deity]

Innerste wheezed. He doesn't truly think this variant understands what Umbra is attempting to say.

"Currently unpleasant given you are squeezing me like a grape."

Umbra doesn't seem amused by Mephiles' response, though his brow furrows. It's the first time really that he's been confronted with the idea of what could have happened had he chosen not to help Innerste as he had. Orange light flickers in flame patterns along his hands and up his arms, tinting his red stripes.

"...I think you may be willfully misinterpreting my own speech. I don't care if there's anything 'good' left in you. I'm asking for your plans. So far all I see if you attempting divine retribution and taking your 'gift' away from this timeline because some people out of millions... if not billions of people decided to abuse it." Umbra stated, "I'm trying to understand your thought process. Your... end game. So to speak. But I suppose I forgot that a lot of you tend to speak in circles instead of answer properly."

Umbra gives an annoyed expression before throwing a Iblis-charged Doom Spear into the tendril holding Innerste - Silver's - body, not quite severing it so much as the heat of the energy that isn't quite Chaos energy forcing the limb to recoil on reflex.

He doesn't know if the Shadow of this world has these powers yet, it'd been an unerringly painful process to unlock them, as two wings sprout from his back, the ends black and red fleshy looking tendrils wound together into deadly sharp clawed points.

He'd found the wings were of similar caliber to a super form, just without the need for the emeralds. He wasn't invincible by any means like the emeralds had given him...but he'd made do by getting much faster and more agile.

"I can't imagine that Chaos is terribly happy with what you did to the emeralds." Umbra rumbled as he flew over and caught Innerste and landed in front of both, "Considering that the emeralds weren't part of your gift to the planet."

With Innerste and him both around each other, it's not hard when both know how to zone hop. As Umbra handed Silver's body a time stone to make it easier since they held a similar strength to the emeralds. He let's Innerste take hold of Silver, while he grabs Mephiles. The two using enough power for a hope between zones for two entities to bring them to their zone.

"Undo what you did to swap us, Mirror. I want to be back in my body." Innerste hissed in annoyance, he was slower to irritate than he used to be, but his mirror self was really pushing it. Iblis is present in his more Mobian form, the draconic shape still massive, but more maneuverable than the behemoth form it used when moving through all the lava.

"Look at you, trying to plead with what "good" you think lies within me. Is that trait consistent among most hedgehogs, or is it just you ANNOYING three?" Mephiles' voice gains an edge to it as Umbra speaks. His grip on Silver's body tightens. Even if Innerste is a god, Silver's body is still painfully mortal, as powerful as the young hedgehog is.

Seeing the small form tensed in pain makes the dark god smile wider.

"You think this fusion was forced?" Scoffs Mephiles. "In a sense. When I was split from Iblis for the second time, thanks to three annoying RODENTS, my existence was shattered across time. Thankfully, those my peices found were like-minded to my goal. Our desires are aligned."

"Together, we are the all-consuming DARKNESS that will bring an END to this pathetic world, and when all of TIME and SPACE are brought to ORDER, I will finally be satisfied."

Mephiles cackles. "Any pathetic fools like the Interloper you've swapped bodies with attempting to interfere will be delt with in due time. I'd rather watch his hopes be crushed myself when he realizes his efforts are futile. But for now, toying with this situation is proving rather enjoyable."

The tendril tightens. "Tell me, have you ever needed to BREATHE before, mirror? Please, tell me how it feels."

[shimmershy]

Buttercups and Golden Flowers

[noelxbe]

bexstevie

god, stevie hopes he doesn't. if things don't work at studio delta, then he's probably done after that; a third stint? he doesn't have it in him mentally to do it again. "never again a contestant. please-- we did our time." he says in a rush, making a motion of prayer. he's not sure if he'd join a show similar to next gen or not-- depending on the prize pool, maybe. "returning back as a coach would be cool. i like that they brought them back on this past season." it was nice to see familiar faces again. "really?" stevie blinks. he kinda knew that, even if he wasn't sure what applied where. he knew studio delta was more of a self-produced powerhouse, but he truthfully didn't pay too much attention; he just listened to what most people were saying online. "they're all pretty good at what they do though, no? must means whatever they got going down is working." "everytime i think i have it down, i mess it up." there's been so many instances of mess-ups because of his language barrier when he started working; to be honest, it's kinda given him a bit more of a push to try and learn more, but it's hard when there's so many other things he'd rather be doing. "i'm the same way dude. we should try learning together! or wait...do you think that might be a bad idea?" he laughs at the idea. they might get caught up chatting too much to actually get any real work done. "mine too! unless we're talking like...serious business. once they switch to english, i usually know i'm in for something." he rubs the back of his neck. "i prefer it, anyway. easier to get my thoughts out. you can always switch it to english with me, promise!"

“man i did it once and it felt like more than enough, you managed to survive through the show twice though…” noel truly finds stevie cool for being able to handle the show twice. had noel not gotten the contract the first time though, he might just have given up on the idol dream, so he was quite lucky he got that contract the first time he joined next gen. “i would say i would never return to a survival show again” he runs a hand through his hair “but if the prize was debut, i’m not sure what i’d do” he pouts, thinks about the possibility, he’s grown a lot since next gen, but he fears the evil editing would return if he ever joined a survival show.

“as far as my understanding goes, it seems like sr media, lime and studio delta are some of the biggest companies at the moment” that knowledge he got simply by his sister, he’d never investigated her words, simply chose to believe them. “so i suppose you’re lucky if you become a trainee in one of the companies” he shrugs “but they must know what they’re doing since they’re all big companies? i’m sure they all have different things that work out for them”.

“i’ve always been a quick learner, but when it comes to korean… not sure what happened, but i’m still not completely fluent” he sighs. “perhaps we should practice together, might not be the worst idea” he leans a bit back, “man i just finished school, and i’m still not done studying” a short laugh escapes his lips. “i don’t think us speaking english together will help with our korean, but… i just miss speaking english so bad” he pouts.

[xxplastic-cubexx]

Honestly your tags are so fun to read every time, i'm almost more excited for them than the actual post (but not entirely because your art is SO GOOD!!!! i adore it). If you don't mind me asking, what are you studying?

i am studying psychology because i refuse to see a therapist so ill figure out whats wrong with me myself !!!!!!!

[transannabeth]

hi. for people who saw gatsby: an american myth. do you remember mckee asking nick for lunch. and then gatsby in like the next scene inviting nick for lunch. because i remember.

[presiding]

What is your favourite thing about Billie Lurk?

(Answers are obvious possibly but i love when people talk about her👍)

thanks for the ask!! YEAH ME TOO I love when people talk about Billie! I can't say I have a favourite thing specifically, but I can explain why she's my fav. apologies for not taking this qn literally, but -

short answer: she’s really cool

& you can stop reading there, or, for the maybe 2 mutuals who might have time to read this my thoughts on her as a character, her meta, and her character as raw potential...

long answer:

i considered making this entire thing a gush so you could read a gush about Billie. but, part of what draws me to her is that she’s not always well written, and in fandom she’s underrated for a literal protagonist.

since you ask...

billie is a cool character

when I played Dh2 (hadn't played Dh1), I was excited to see a black woman with disabilities who was captaining a massive ship by herself. wow.

then I discovered Billie’s backstory with Deirdre, the way she responded to that, then having to survive while living on the run, and her bisexuality. as well as her history with daud & delilah. fascinating!

she’s an outsider who has so much to lose, and knows what it's like to lose everything - having lost everything not once but three times - but nevertheless speaks truth to power. she's so brave! she went and helped Emily & Corvo and she must have known they might kill her! plus, she’s smart, she’s funny, she gets shit done, she’s gorgeous.

but... the meta

mild critique of fandom & arkane incoming.

skip this bit if you want - you've been warned twice now - jump to tired Hayao Miyazaki and read from there if you'd like my thoughts on writing her.

i thought Death of the Outsider was going to be amazing and then... well. *sad trombone* i've written about that before so i won't keep banging on. i figured others must be disappointed too, so I joined a few fandom spaces in hopes of finding camaraderie.

most people with complaints about DotO didn’t like how the Outsider and Daud were handled. which is valid & I agree. but it seemed like most paid no attention to Billie; when people talk about her it’s with respect to Daud, as opposed to in her own right. you could argue for fandom misogyny because people don’t talk about adult Emily Kaldwin that much either, but in Billie's case, it’s misogynoir (compare & contrast with the popularity of thomas, particularly the popularity of thomas portrayed as a white man for no particular reason that i've been able to discern - i keep asking around, is it in the books???).

i think this is a LOT better now than it used to be, which is fantastic. or perhaps i have found the correct echo-chamber? ha.

ultimately, The Fandom is a fraction of the entire picture, and not even the important bit since The Fandom is not who these games are made for. you can't make money relying on only your hardcore fans even if all of them spent a fortune on merch, this is true for any AAA game.

while it's true that Billie is underrated from a fandom perspective - but Billie as an underwritten protagonist is squarely Arkane’s fault.

it was reasonable when she was a side character - the lack of info in Dh2 makes perfect sense (if anything there was more lore in Dh2 which is kind of wild)-

- but as a protagonist in Death of the Outsider?

.... there’s lousy writing, and there’s whatever is going on with Billie Lurk, a black woman who mostly exists as a foil or saviour for light-skinned characters. In her own game there’s barely any of her own lore except where it's relevant to saving two dudes.

lore hints at, but barely touches on what race means in the Dh universe (xenophobia is stronger in Dh1; separate essay i guess), but Arkane has patted themselves on the back for portraying non-white characters, which feels like the same thing as the aesthetic of diversity we're seeing in advertising currently because it’s in marketing trend guides. it's self-congratulatory and it's a missed opportunity for deeper storytelling.

you can see an example of diversity at its most shallow in the way that Billie’s written: there’s little engagement with her as an entire person with history & wants & preferences, and the world she walks through in that game feels like it has nothing to do with her. you could make a case for alienation as a theme, but then, how do you handle the titular premise of 'Dishonored' without ever letting Billie make changes in an environment without a chaos system? it's disappointing from that angle too.

in my opinion, whatever it's worth, it was an accident Arkane created such an awesome character - they needed someone to betray daud. congrats billie.

all this said, it makes her an underdog as far as characters to enjoy & create art & stories for. it's nice to find so many like-minded, switched on people! <3

billie's character potential

she’s got a wealth of unexplored lore, being deeply intertwined with both Karnaca & Dunwall’s fates & criminal underbellies, as well as her connections to the witches & whalers, and three Empresses.

she’s lived a few distinct lifetimes and in the games we get to meet her at two peaks (KoD & DotO) & a low (Dh2 as Meagan).

her voice is very distinct, her dry & often dark humour is entertaining & fun to write. her perspective is really interesting - she’s had the widest variety of void-powers of anyone canonically, and she’s also lived through the highest highs and lowest lows.

she's got everything going for her :) i couldn't really pick a fav thing!

[peaches2217]

One of my favorite things about my job is that our office is actually a semi-stylized cabin, complete with a covered porch. So on days like today, when business is slow and the rain’s coming down, I can stand outside, take some deep breaths, and just enjoy the view for a while.

Moments like this aren’t particularly special, I guess, but they always leave me feeling at peace and happy to be alive, so I cherish them all the same.

[keikoayano]

Anyone want to talk about how Zeus is one of the only things in the world that COULD damage Odysseus’ pride, by making him choose between lives multiple times, some of the hardest choices Ody has had to make on his journey home, and he is WELL aware of that?